Joyce wasn't a big fan of eulogies.
She wasn't interested in
what people thought about her.
She used to say,
"I play the music,
and that's enough."
But since she died,
a huge number of people
have talked about her
and what her music
meant to the world
and - sorry, Joyce -
just to give you a tiny flavour.
Radio Three called her musicality
an inspiration.
"A virtuoso with
an awesome pianistic technique."
The Independent, "I know of
no pianist in the world
"who is her superior,
musically or technically."
And some people have said
how sad it was
that illness cut short
her concert career
and that her recording success
came so late in life.
Joyce didn't say that.
She wasn't interested in success,
she was only interested
in the music.
Joyce Hatto doesn't matter,
she would say,
it's only the music that matters.
So I'm going to shut up now.
I can imagine Joycey looking down
saying, "Get on with it, Barrie."
I'll leave you with the most
important bit of Joyce.
The music.
Just one picture, please!
'Hi, Barrie - James Inverne again.
I'm sorry about the tabloids,
'we had no choice
but to publish the story.
'I'm afraid we now have even more
evidence about Joyce's recordings.
'I suggest you call me. Thanks.'
This is Barrington-Coupe here.
I'm prepared to talk.
Give you the whole story.
She's jolly good.
She's not a student, is she?
Yes. Joyce Hatto.
She must be going places.
Well, girls - they always have that
toss up about babies, don't they?
Lovely.
No, I agree, she's one to watch.
Very, very good!
Well done, Miss Hatto.
A round of applause, boys, please,
for our rehearsal pianist.
Golly, sorry.
No, no, it's my fault, sorry.
I forgot I was holding them.
Oh, Lord, are they all out of order?
Oh, I'll sort them out.
I'm Barrie, by the way.
Barrington-Coupe. Barrie. Either...
"Eether". You say potahto.
And I know who you are - obviously.
Do you want a hand?
No, no, no, I'm used to
wrestling with chunks of music.
I work for a music publishers.
Hence my manly physique!
Mr Coupe, when they're in order
I'll have them, thank you.
Two ticks, Miss Guisely.
Just wrestling with them.
That was brilliant, by the way.
I'm just the rehearsal dogsbody,
not needed on voyage.
Oh, well, it won't get any better
tonight - it couldn't.
That was just...
It was very moving.
We aim to please.
You wouldn't fancy a cup of tea
or something, I suppose, would you?
Well, I suppose I could.
As long as I get the bus by...
I don't know any places. I'm...
I'm a Thermos kind of girl.
I'm sure we could strike out
and find somewhere.
Mr Coupe, lovely to see you
and all that
but I was rather hoping you might
bring me up the music... Sorry.
Which, I believe,
was the reason for your visit?
I bet you've had all the agents
sniffing around, haven't you?
Oh, no, I haven't, really.
I haven't really
had any big recitals.
I'm not really one of
the sort of chosen few.
The golden boys? Yes!
Some of them have
concert tours booked
and they haven't even graduated.
You could do a concert tour.
Liszt.
I bet you're brilliant at Liszt.
Go on, you love him, don't you?
Oh, I do love him.
And Chopin!
I have this mad urge to do
the Godowsky Variations.
Do you know them?
No, I do know them.
I'd love to hear you play them.
Well, come back to me
in about ten years, then.
Actually, I sort of think
I play a little bit better
when no-one's listening.
Not much of a career,
playing in the front room!
I'd love to do
the whole concert thing,
but you have to be pretty tough.
No, you don't need to be tough,
you just need someone in your corner
who'll do all
the tough stuff for you.
I don't really have too many people
in my corner.
Well, um...
I'm all for love's young dream, but
some of us have got homes to go to.
Seems a bit peculiar, why are you
auditioning for a French man?
French genius.
Alfred Cortot is going to take
five of us next term, one-on-one.
We're all going to play
and he's going to choose his five.
Five's not many.
Barrie thinks I'm in with a chance.
He thinks Cortot and I
are very sympathique!
Oh, so, this was
BARRIE'S suggestion?
You don't have to say his name
like you're holding it with tongs.
I'm not sure that I approve
of all this boosting you up.
If that's viscose
it'll need a cloth.
Where's the bottle?
Barrie thinks I have a future
doing big concerts.
Barrie didn't see you
run off the stage with nerves
at the Chelsea Town Hall.
That was years ago.
Sleeves first.
Or sit there like a rabbit
in headlights at that charity do.
Oh, I was mortified.
Barrie and I are working on that.
What exactly is he, this Barrie?
He's a classical music impresario.
You want to talk to Daddy
about music people.
Daddy's a baker, what does
he know about music people?
Remember the Beverley Sisters'
wedding cake
and all those shenanigans?
They were music people,
if you call that music.
I think he sounds wily, this Barrie.
You can't go living on compliments.
Sorry, sorry, I'm late. Shirt collar
debacle. What time's kick off?
Cortot's gone in.
I should go and warm up.
Are you ready for this ordeal?
Yes, I'll see you in there, Erich!
I'll see you in there!
He's German.
Joyce, you can absolutely do this.
Keep your eye on the prize -
learning from Cortot.
This is your big chance, Joyce.
Keep telling yourself -
you deserve this.
Oh, Lord, now I'm getting emotional!
Thank you, Robert.
And can we have Joyce Hatto, please?
Playing?
Sorry?
You are playing?
Oh, sorry. Schumann.
Fantasie Opus 17.
Sorry...
Sorry, I just need to...
OK. So Cortot's a blithering idiot
and he's picked five no-hopers
who won't threaten him, but...
how'd it go for you?
How much did you hear?
Me? I never even
went into the college.
Well, I was pretty pleased.
Good! Couple of bishes,
but the emotion was there.
That's what probably scared him off,
all that womanly passion!
Steady the buffs!
Old Erich didn't get through either.
Well, frog's not going to
pick a Kraut, is he?
Anyway, this time next year,
Miss Hatto,
you can forget that bunch of
desiccated old shirt-lifters,
because you will be under the care
of Barrington-Coupe
Artistes Management
and you will be heading
straight for the stratosphere.
Fancy a bun? Oh, yes, I love buns.
I'm not sure you should be
signing a contract
without showing it to your father.
What does Daddy know about
artists' management? Nothing!
He knows about invoices.
Yes.
This isn't an invoice,
it's a management agreement.
Between me and Mr Barrington-Coupe.
It's not an order for
two-dozen coffee eclairs.
What's he going to do,
this Barrington-Coupe,
once you've signed it?
He's going to manage my career.
Your teaching?
I'm not doing teaching!
How many more times...
I mean, I might do
a bit of teaching,
but basically I'll be
building up my concert profile
and if you don't want to
witness my signature
then I'll take it to Barrie's office
and get one of the girls there
to do it.
Sorry to have bothered you.
Morning, Joyce.
Sorry, excuse me,
I was just looking for
Mr Barrington-Coupe's office
and I only have his card from when
he was working here. Barrie? Yes.
I wasn't sure where
his new offices were.
He doesn't have another office,
but I think he's in now.
He's here? No, he'll be on the fifth
floor. It's his late morning.
Seidelman Music Publishing.
I know, that was my posh voice!
I was looking for your office.
Is this where you live?
The thing is...
The girl didn't seem to know
anything about a new office.
And I thought you lived in Henley.
Look, Joyce... No, I don't think
I will look, thank you.
Because I seem to be
looking at a liar
and someone who's made a pretty good
idiot out of me by buttering me up.
Why did you say
you could help my career?
What on earth did you think
you were playing at?
Because I can help your career.
Managing someone's career is about
passion and instinct and empathy,
and I've got all that.
And no, I don't have filing
cabinets and switchboards.
But you said you did!
Because I will have!
I visualise things
and then I make them happen.
And now I've ballsed it all up.
So, yes, I'm a liar.
Live in one horrible room.
It's my mother who lives in Henley
and she's not very keen on me.
And I saw something in you
and I wanted to make it work for you
and I got a bit ahead of myself
because I could see it all
so clearly.
And I am heartbroken
that I've messed it all up.
Oh, Lord, don't cry.
Well, I will cry.
Because I can't bear
that I've lost you.
Do you really believe in me
as a pianist?
No question.
I'm sorry for the muddle.
Be careful going down the stairs,
they've got a bit of a dip in them.
You're a lovely girl, Joyce.
Hardly. I've got wonky hair!
That's what your mother makes
you see, that's not what I see.
You're lovely.
And you're sweet. And funny.
That's what I see anyway.
Or did see.
We can't have any more muddles.
We won't.
Scout's honour.
Were you a Scout? No.
Thought not.
Can you make tea?
Oh, yeah.
I'll, erm... I'll get the milk.
I'll, erm, I'll just get the milk.
That's enough, Horace.
Three's enough.
Shall I get someone
to take the four of us?
No, don't go bothering people.
Excuse me.
Sorry, daughter's wedding.
Are you sure you don't want to
go out for a nice supper?
No, honestly, we've got
so much to do at the house.
Wallpapering waits for no man.
Oh, are you waiting for a man?
We could have given you
the name of a man.
No, no, we're going to
do it ourselves.
I thought you were waiting
for a man. Say cheese.
Or should it be Tchaikovsky?
Don't try and be funny, Horace.
Your case is upstairs, Mrs BC.
Do you, er, fancy turning in?
Yes, yes, let's go up.
Did I, erm... Did I hear
something about a negligee?
Yes.
Would you want me to put it on?
I'll say.
Let the dog see the rabbit.
What?
Er, nothing.
Look, I'll, er...
I'll go for a stroll.
Nice married man's stroll.
And, er, you sort yourself out
and I'll see you in the boudoir.
Do you think I should
just check the piano?
It's fine, it's got all its legs.
In a while, crocodile.
Joycey?
Oh, Lord, negligee,
wedding night, sorry.
You carry on.
I'll have another
scrape at the banisters.
Yes, I shall get my secretary to
type that up for you
and I shall see you with
Miss Hatto on the 24th...
Looking forward to it...
OK. Bye, bye.
Mrs Barrington-Coupe, just putting
in another booking for Miss Hatto.
What do you do when they ask to
speak to the secretary?
I say she's on the other line.
Have you got two lines?
No. Now, look at this.
Kirkcaldy and Pitlochry
all booked in.
Letchworth, Evesham, Spalding,
music club circuit
looks like it might happen.
Golly, it's really filled up!
I said it would.
Oh, and look what came
back from the printers!
I'm hardly acclaimed or
international.
Just one nice review from Ventnor.
Let me explain something to you.
I go to see Joyce Hatto.
The poster says -
Joyce Hatto hasn't done much.
I don't have
much of an evening, do I?
But if I give over my 17 and 6
to see Joyce Hatto -
acclaimed international pianist...
I have a fantastic evening!
But the playing will be the same!
Everyone in this agency can play!
What matters is the story.
Now, you play,
I'll figure out the story.
No-one to move Miss Hatto's
stool, thank you!
OK, gents, OK, OK, OK.
I just need to hear the strings on
their own - this is Jealous Lover.
You've all got
Jealous Lover, haven't you?
If nine of you play Jealous Lover
and one plays Dangerous Moonlight
it'll be a long day.
I shall see you in there.
Er, shall I play, Barrie?
Why not?
It is your album, after all.
Do you want to count them in,
Joycey, just for now?
OK.
On my wife's count.
Two, three, four, one, two.
Barrie!
We'll get there with
the babies, Ducky.
The doc said it was nobody's fault.
Nice, aren't they, those radios?
I'm bringing 4,000
in from Hong Kong.
I'm on a whacking profit.
Velly nice.
Have you given up
the record label, then?
No! In fact, we've just
signed a new artist!
Oh...
just Joyce.
Music from the Films.
You look quite beaky in profile,
you'd have done better full-face.
This is more like it -
Dream Of Olwen.
We thought we'd make some more
albums this year.
And get Joyce
back on the road next year,
when she's bounced
back from the, erm...
And I'm going to do
a bit of teaching. Mother?
You could play the accordion, Joyce.
Just two days a week, nice private
girls' school in Hertfordshire
What will you do, go from Euston?
Sshh, Andy Stewart -
turn it up, Barrie!
Faster! Faster!
Now, how do we think Chopin would
have played it?
I'm Miss Hatto, and you are?
I'm Elizabeth Jane Pilkington,
Miss Hatto.
EJ Pilkington at 11:30, very good.
So, who are you?
Please, she's Eleanor Margaret Bird
and she doesn't
have to do Domestic Science
because her mother's just died.
So, I thought she might like to come
and help me have my lesson.
Pilks!
Eleanor Margaret Bird, do you find
that in any way an appealing plan?
Yes, it is, please, thank you.
Shoes off, then, girls!
Now, Miss EJ Pilkington,
are you Elizabeth,
Betty, Beth, Lizzie?
What do I call you?
Oh, I'm Pilks. And she's Birdy.
Very good. Birdy and Pilks - hop up!
Each of you put a foot
on the pedal. Birdy, you're soft
and Pilks, you're sustain.
Now, I'm going to play and when
I shout out, you're going to pedal.
Mm-hm?
Sustain!
Soft!
Sustain!
Soft!
Oh, Serge!
You called, m'lady?
I was talking to the dog.
So hard to tell.
Now, I bet Miss Hatto has never
mentioned this, has she?
Wow!
Or this?
And this, you are
the first people to see this.
Now, this isn't even
in the shops yet.
Bax?
Not easy to play, unless you happen
to be Miss Hatto, of course.
And when Miss Hatto plays
the Festival Hall... there will,
of course, be two seats reserved
in the name of Birdy and Pilks.
The Festival Hall - that's so posh!
And just to prove I'm not completely
useless myself - make a tray -
make a tray!
Present from Golders Green via
Hong Kong - the smallest
Dictaphone in the world.
It's like Crackerjack!
Do you have any comment to make?
Right, scrap that one...
suppose we start with the Bach?
No, these are big concert halls,
you have to start with a bang,
set your stall out.
Prokofiev.
No messing about.
Right, scribble this down
because I am in the groove, daddy-o.
Right, Prokofiev to kick off.
I've got a big hole in my second
half, then.
Yes? Mr Coup,
we're from Customs and Excise.
Joyce. What?
It's not about the dog again, is it?
We try and keep him in!
It's about the radios.
Radios?
It's just a muddle.
Are they all here, Mr Coupe?
No, no, there are some
in the garage and, er,
some in the box room
on the top floor.
Start upstairs, Mendelssohn,
you can get Parker to help.
A policeman called Mendelssohn!
We'll need all the paperwork,
of course.
Yes, yes, of course.
Sorry, er, I don't understand.
Are the radios faulty,
are they being recalled?
It's a purchase tax issue.
We're impounding them.
It's just a muddle, Joycey.
I'll just have to go with them
to sort it out.
Not today, though, surely!
I'm preparing some
important concerts
and we need to sort out
the programme.
I'm afraid we don't usually arrest
people at their own convenience.
Can we take the gentleman
up with us, sir, make sure we're
taking the right things?
Do you know how long it will take?
I was going to do chops.
I can't say. We won't starve him.
I don't understand what's happened.
He's been importing all sorts
of things for nearly a year.
So we've gathered.
He may have got in a muddle
with his paperwork.
We've been a bit distracted
planning these concerts.
I mean, it's not a serious of fence?
It's a very serious of fence.
Dog behaving himself?
Yes. That's good.
Not knocked over any more gnomes?
No.
How's the playing?
What playing would that be?
Oh, come on, Joyce.
Would that be the playing
for the big concert series?
I had to cancel that, didn't I?
Because the promoter's
on trial at the Old Bailey.
Why do you bother to come,
Joyce? Well...
I'm still hoping to hear
some kind of explanation.
I was just doing what every other
bugger in business does,
if they think they can
get away with it.
I didn't rob a bank.
I just skimped on some paperwork.
We needed the money... We needed
money because you made
such a lamentable fist
of being a concert promoter.
No, Joyce, we needed
the money because...
Because what?
It doesn't matter.
Don't stop.
I'm sure that's one thing you didn't
miss - me murdering Godowsky.
I missed all of it.
I was a nit.
They're doing a big Chopin
thing at the Festival Hall.
They called me.
I thought I might give it a bash.
Toe in the water.
No boosting required.
Are you going self-op,
or can a pal come along?
Pal's always nice.
Getting the feel, Miss Hatto?
Everyone's parked up, your mother's
been to the Ladies, all serene!
I can't get this...
Here, let me...
Leave it. I'll do it later.
Come on...
we've worked for this.
Play how you play at home.
Never mind about the stool
and people fanning themselves
with their programmes,
just play the music.
This is us back in the game, hm?
The old firm!
The two before you, they're not
going to set the Thames on fire.
No hoper, no hoper, Hatto,
interval, perfect.
Get on, get off, get out. Yep?
See you later, alligator.
Good luck, Miss Hatto!
Ready for off?
Always has to fiddle.
I thought I could do it.
But I couldn't do it.
Look, there's...
There's a thing you
have to have inside...
to really make it.
And I don't have it.
Maybe neither of us do.
Maybe we just flew too high.
Melted our wings?
Melted our wings, Ducky.
We'll be all right.
We'll be all right.
People say to me, "Oh, Liszt
is so romantic," and I say,
"No, you're wrong, he's not
romantic, he's passionate,
"and there's every difference
in the world."
And I say, "There's no point in
waving your arms about like a dying
"duck in a thunderstorm, because if
you don't feel the power from here,
"then it doesn't matter
what you feel about Liszt,
"you won't be doing him
justice when you play."
Absolutely, we'll remember
that when Claudie gets on to Liszt.
Say thank you
for the KitKat, Eleanor.
Thank you, Miss Hatto.
See you next Monday - thank you!
People think it's from the wrist,
but the wrists have nothing to do
with it. It's all from here.
'...Into a full blown
squabble.
'But there is still no dominance,
despite...'
'..and Simon definitely
needs the discipline.'
I'm back.
Big drama with the new monkey?
Simon?
He's just bitten Arthur
and they've got rid of him!
I knew it.
It's an accident waiting to happen.
How was the post office?
Very boring. Big queue.
Lots of old dodderers.
Isn't that the pot calling?
But what I did spot
while I was waiting...
Fanfare?
Oh, that's jolly nifty.
I should cocoa... Put them all in of
a Sunday night, Bob's your uncle,
and Fanny we don't talk about.
You didn't put the answer
machine on. I like this.
I know. I remembered
while I was in the queue.
You didn't pick up?
No, it rang a couple of times.
Oh, right, well, I'll just
put your horse pills in here
and then, erm, how are we feeling
about macaroni cheese?
We're feeling reasonably positive.
Hah, turn up the monkeys and call me
if the girl with
the bottom comes on.
'Now, it's low-ranking male
Arthur's turn.'
What's that idiot child
forgotten now?
I'm so sorry just to ring
the doorbell.
I did phone earlier,
but got no reply.
I am looking for Concert Artists,
the record label?
Yes, yes that's us. How can I help?
I'm only in England for a couple
more days and you have a couple
of records on your website I would
very much like to get hold of.
I don't know if you keep stock here.
Well... I do.
Just tell me what you want
and I can pack them up.
Only take a few minutes.
Do you have the
Bax Variations by Hatto?
Yes, I can let you have that.
I've sold a surprising
number of those.
There's more Bax lovers
in the world than I knew.
I had never warmed to him
but I read a couple of positive
comments on Piano Fanatic
about the Hatto recording.
I'm sorry. Where was this?
Online.
I was intrigued to read these
comments about Joyce Hatto
because we were
at the Royal Academy together.
You were at the Academy with Joyce?
Yes, I studied piano
for a while there.
Get away! Well, Joyce is here!
We live together here!
Joyce is my wife. She'll be
delighted, come in, come in!
Joyce! Joycey!
Turn the monkeys off!
And do you remember that
ghastly audition for
the blessed Cortot masterclass,
and neither of us got it?
I was absolutely heartbroken, went
off and sobbed in the ladies...
My mind sings so much...
But you were not to be defeated,
whereas I did not have the right
sort of guts
to make it as a soloist.
Oh, Joyce has the guts but fate
hasn't been entirely kind to her.
Oh, it's just I have this silly,
silly cancer which I'm absolutely
not going to talk about,
but obviously it's meant that I
can't really perform much in public.
So sorry. But you've been able to
make recordings?
Yes. Yes, we haven't let
the grass grow.
I don't think I saw more than
a couple on the website,
there was the Bax and the Gershwin.
Well, I'm a little bit of a
fledgling at this website malarkey
but give me a couple of months
and hopefully it'll
be a different story.
No, because several posts have
asked, where you can buy more Hatto?
"Have you heard Hatto?"
"What else has she done?"
Ah, ah there you go - got it!
"Wowee, Crotchetman was right -
Hatto is awesome."
What does that mean?
And who the heck is Crotchetman?
Well, maybe he's a bit
further down here somewhere.
Yes, look!
"Thanks, HG, for posting Nocturne
from Bax Symphonic Variations.
The CD arrived and it is awesome
playing. Who is she?
What does it mean, posting Nocturne?
Yeah, well, move out the way a sec.
It means that some bright spark
on the other side of the world
has put a little bit of
Joyce Hatto on here...
and if you...
click it...
Golly.
You're on the world wide web, Ducky.
Nice to hear you play.
Hardly "playing!"
Who knew you had
an international following?
From one ancient CD!
Yeah, well, leave 'em wanting more.
What are you thinking, Ducky?
Oh, the Academy.
High hopes.
We've done all right.
We do pretty well for old codgers.
Do you remember what you said to me
when we met?
A lot of rubbish, no doubt.
You said all I needed was
someone in my corner to protect me,
make it all happen for me.
Sorry, have I
remembered that incorrectly?
Didn't I say I was worried I didn't
have the nerve for a solo career
and you said you had enough
nerve for both of us?
I was a bloody idiot. I was young.
Young people make promises because
they don't know what life's like.
What did you just say?
"We'd done pretty well"?!
If you call teaching piano
to dim-witted children
while you run a potty, one-man
record label in the spare bedroom
in a town that hasn't
even got a concert hall...
then your standards are even more
poverty-stricken than I imagined.
Don't leave your cocoa too long.
Are we ready? Yes?
Hang on, I just need to wedge it...
That should hold it.
Yes? Is it on? Yes - go!
Joyce! Come and listen to something.
Coming!
What do you think?
It's about the tempo
I used to play it?
Yes, it is.
Who is it? Please tell me it's
someone English,
I get so tired of
those endless Koreans!
It's someone very English. Good.
She's called Joyce Hatto.
No!
Was that one of my tapes?
Did you find the old tapes?
Oh, it was jolly good quality -
I thought you were up to something!
Did you do some computer things
to it?
No, well, I did try, I took them to
the chap at Wheathampstead
and he had a go at cleaning them up
but they're very old.
And they're not top quality.
I mean, they were only for fun.
Oh, so...
So, I was thinking about
what we'd been saying
about all those internet chappies
wanting a bit more Hatto,
and they're ain't no Hatto
to give them,
so, I took another recording,
and I followed all the temping,
the dynamics,
and so on, from your recording,
and I sort of did a new version.
What, you took another of my
recordings?
Well, no, because you didn't do any
other recordings.
I found one that was most like yours
and I stuck to your score markings
and I sort of...
Hattoised it.
So what you just played -
it's not me?
Well, in a musical sense it's you.
Yes, but in any sense that anyone
else would recognise it's not!
You are quite astounding!
Oh, get off your high horse.
You can't play.
You've got one brilliant recording
out there
and everyone's itching for more.
And you like to read about yourself
on the internet.
I just thought I'd do something
that would cheer you up.
All modern recordings are put
together note by note,
so what I was doing I didn't think
was so bad, or so different.
But, of course, in Joyce's world,
Barrie is always in the wrong,
because he can't be as clever,
or as right, or as good,
or as wronged as Joyce.
That's a big cake.
Don't you know there's a war on?
What can I get you?
In here? Botulism, I should think.
You know you're quite
right about modern recordings.
People today don't even have to
play the right notes.
I mean technicians do all that
afterwards, don't they?
Take out the bishes,
blend one note into another.
Since we've gone digital,
the sky's the limit.
Not like your day, Ducky,
where you had to struggle to get
through it without a mistake.
But there you are.
Oh, go on, I'll try a tiny bit.
Coffee and walnut.
You know, it would be jolly nice to
have a few more CDs whizzing around
the internet.
But thanks to the old lurgy, I can't
play like I used to, I haven't got
the feeling.
You can be as musical and
interpretative as you like,
but if you can't feel your finger
ends you might as well be
playing with mittens.
As you say, there we are.
Quite funny you should have made a
recording and I thought it was me.
Well, if you thought it was you,
think how many other people would
think it was you.
You've got a very naughty twinkle
in your eye, Mr Barrington Coupe.
Got to do something, Joyce.
We're both near enough
the bucket to kick it.
I could run a couple up
the flagpole, see if anyone salutes.
Keep Crotchetman happy?
I'm rather fond of Crotchetman.
You know this isn't half bad,
considering the place is so ghastly.
One in the eye for those
shirt-lifters on Radio Three.
Why, would you send them
to be reviewed?
Yes. We've got nothing to lose.
Joyce Hatto on the wireless...
that would be rather satisfying.
Would you, erm,
would you like a latte?
A latte?
Yes, all right, Mr BC.
I'll have a latte.
It's a great life
if you don't weaken!
It's my own fault for marrying
a blooming concert pianist.
Ducky, what say we get one of those
posh cakes with the strawberries on?
Can we afford?
Can we afford?
Have you seen the orders coming in?
The website's buzzing. Hattomania!
And you haven't had to lie on top of
a flipping concert grand to do it.
It's never too late.
I could give you a bunk up?
Did I hear your name on the radio
this morning?
Oh, probably.
They're just reviewing
one of Joyce's Chopin
recordings on Building A Library.
No biggie!
What time will that be on?
The programme starts at ten...
I shan't be listening, I've
really no interest.
You're not going to listen?
I don't believe in critics, it's the
music that matters.
I'd want to hear what
they were saying about me.
I'm not as high-minded as you!
Toodle-oo!
What time is it?
Starts in ten minutes.
Shall we go in now?
'And although I loved the
delicacy of the Ashkenazy, it didn't
'quite have the verve and, well,
just the sheer sparkle of the Hatto.
'In fact, I hope to be taking
a look at more Hatto
'recordings on a future programme.
'This lady seems to be having
something of a late flowering -
'can one say that,
or should I say a renaissance,
'that's possibly more polite.
'Anyway, that's my choice
for Building A Library,
that's
Joyce Hatto - Chopin Complete Etudes
and that's on the Concert Artist
label and...
Sounds like you might have your own
radio programme, Ducky.
Hardly,
but he seemed fairly intelligent.
Well, this isn't going to buy
the baby a new bonnet.
I've got to pop to the printers,
check the new cover for your Rach
Three,
because the one they faxed through
was absolutely shocking.
The things you have to
keep an eye on. And you love it.
Orders coming in, parcels going
out, fans all over the world,
of course I love it!
And because it's all for you, all
for Joyce Hatto.
Fan-dabby-dozy.
Right, and I'll pick up the bird
seed.
Don't forget the horse pills,
they should be in today.
Roger Wilco,
no peace for the wicked.
Barrie?
We're not wicked, are we?
Get away!
I'll tell you what's wicked.
The fact that it took forty years
to get Joyce Hatto on to the BBC.
That's wicked.
Did you put the machine on?
Oh, Barrie, you never remember!
Oh, er, Concert Artists,
can I help you?
'Yes, my name is Philip Hill.
'I wanted to speak to someone
about one of your artists.
'I actually did the review of the
Joyce Hatto Chopin this morning
'on Radio Three
on Building a Library
'and A: I wanted to order
more Hatto discs,
'but also I wondered whether you
had any way of contacting her
'as I'd be interested in talking
to her for a piece
'I'm writing for
Gramophone Magazine.'
Oh. Well, you are actually
speaking to her.
'One doesn't really expect a concert
pianist to answer the phone.
'I don't know if you heard
my review this morning?'
Er, no, I was playing the piano,
I'm afraid. I forgot to tune in.
My husband says that I'm
ridiculously non-publicity-minded,
very behind the times in that way.
I hope you were kind to me?
Ducky? Do I smell baking?
Buns? This is a turn up.
I've had a gentleman caller.
Oh, yes?
Well, telephonic caller, because you
didn't put the answer phone on.
Darn it. Sorry.
When I picked up, who should
it be but the gentlemen
who was so enamoured of
the Hatto Chopin Etudes
on the wireless this morning.
Oh, Philip thingy.
He was very delighted to find that
he was talking to the lady herself.
I bet he was. And we had a very nice
chat about Chopin
and the Liszt Transcendental Etudes
and Godowksys
and all sorts of things.
And it rather lifted my spirits
and I thought, we shall have buns,
buns is what we shall have.
Jolly good.
He phoned Concert Artists did he?
He's doing a piece
for the Gramophone
and he wants to talk to me.
About what, though, Ducky?
About my recording techniques.
Well, that's going to be a bit
awkward, isn't it? Why?
You don't have a recording
technique.
No, but I can tell him
how I play the pieces
and how I tackle a new piece.
Yes, I suppose so...
Well, when he rings, Joyce,
keep it vague.
You can talk about how you feel
about the music,
but we don't want to get into
the nuts and bolts of where we
record the things.
He's not ringing, he's taking us
out for lunch in Cambridge.
Are you potty?
No! I'm not potty!
He's got a lot of my CDs.
In fact, he was calling to order
some more, it's all on the pad.
Joyce, selling online,
getting reviews online,
chaps talking about you on
the radio, that's all fine,
but you can't sit down
with a journalist, face-to-face
and talk about how we make
these records.
Why? Because we didn't make them!
Think, sweetie! I mean, yes, they
sound like you, but they're not you!
Joyce, trust me, this is a bad idea!
Trust you? I remember trying
that a long time ago,
so, I'm very much once bitten there!
Oh, don't worry, I'll call him back.
I'll explain that
I'm not able to have
a nice lunch with an intelligent,
cultured music critic,
because MY husband has a very
limited view of my capabilities
and would rather I stayed at home
with nothing else to think about
but how long I've got to live!
Not too mutton?
Not mutton at all.
There you go!
Merci.
Hair? Luxuriant. Hmm.
I wasn't trying to spoil your fun,
Ducky,
putting the kibosh on meeting
Philip, I just thought,
we're safer flying under the radar.
I just fancied flying
a little higher.
Fly too high, your wings fall off.
My wings aren't going to last me
much longer anyway, are they?
Get your skates on,
the train waits for no man.
Bags I forward.
I said it first.
Come on then Mrs Barrington Coupe,
let's take Joyce Hatto out to lunch.
Thank you.
So, basically, Joyce,
since you gave up live performance,
you've just been working away
and when you feel a piece is ready,
you record it.
So, what do you do?
Just book a studio?
Well, I leave all that to Barrie.
I say my job is to make the bread
and Barrie has to put it
in the oven!
Yes, Joyce always says
working on a piece
is like making a loaf of bread - you
know, first you have to work it...
Yes, you work it and you knead it
and then you leave it to rise.
You have to let it become
what it wants to be.
Yeah, and once it's recorded,
Joyce never listens to it again.
Really? Not interested.
No, not interested. I don't do
retakes or whatever they're called.
I record it, I go home
and what people want to make of it
is up to them,
it's none of my business.
So, not much editing time,
then, Barrie?
Yes, as far as recording goes,
Joyce is a very cheap date!
When Barrie and I met, I was giving
a concert at the Strathmore
and he was a little bit bowled
over, weren't you?
He took me for a cup of tea
and he said,
"Would you like a cup or mug?"
I was desperate for a mug but I
thought it wasn't very ladylike,
so I said, "I'll have a cup ..."
A cup was thrupence.
And a mug was fivepence. That made
me a cheap date in Barrie's eyes!
Tired, sweetie?
Do you know, I'm absolutely not.
Wasn't it lovely talking about music
to someone who knew about it?
While you were in the ladies, he
said he was going to e-mail me
to get some facts straight.
We can cobble something together,
at least on the e-mail
you've got thinking time.
I thought we did very well with our
ducking and diving over lunch.
While you were in the gents, I told
him I was working on the Godowskys.
You didn't say you were
bringing them out?
I think I may have done.
You don't make life easy, Ducky.
You know there are only about
three versions to choose from.
Did you set the video
for Monkey World?
I did. End of a perfect day.
'Where do you usually
do these recordings?
'Well, you use a studio one year
'and the next
it's a blooming coffee shop.
'Or one of those tanning places,
we have one of those
'down the road, don't we, Barrie?
And if you can believe this,
'you have to stand up!
I mean it's umpetty pounds
'and you can't even lie down.'
Larry... 'How are you?'
I'm good. I'm doing a big piece
on this woman, Joyce Hatto.
'Yeah, I'm just reading about her,
I might do a piece myself.'
Yes, well you know,
the Gramophone found her first.
'Is she for real?
It's a heck of an output.'
No, I know, she does everything -
Bach, Messaien, Gershwin...
it's remarkable.
It's like listening to about
eight different pianists.
"Her illness has brought a depth
and gravitas to her playing"
Someone here thinks
she's more than one person.
Is she? More than one person?
'People are so bloody cynical.'
She's old, she's ill and she's good.
End of story.
I've got to go, Larry,
I'll ring you back.
Joyce Hatto?
Yes, I need to talk to her again.
I've had a call from someone
who knew her husband years ago.
Really?
He just said the husband doesn't
have the most blameless career path.
Well, he's a harmless old beggar
now, I mean, I've met him.
Well, this person, someone we both
know, said he heard Joyce Hatto
play in the '60s sometime.
I think at the Festival Hall.
And she did fistfuls of wrong notes
and then practically conked out
at the keyboard.
Well, I don't see what that's got
to do with her recording career.
No, but do check
all the facts won't you?
Of course. Now I know you will.
I mean, 40 years down the line,
she's obviously improved!
Yes.
Hope for us all!
Ah-ha! Hot-air balloon!
You don't want to drop the piece
in the Gramophone, do you?
It seems to have turned
into quite a big thing. No.
I think Mr Hill's going to make
a jolly good fist of it.
Bah, I thought that was bulrushes,
and it ain't.
It could be reflected bulrushes?
Oh, he's not as dumb as he looks!
Why are you saying drop it?
There was an answer phone
message from Philip, fact checking.
Said he couldn't find anything on
Rene Kohler, your esteemed
conductor.
Not surprising,
seeing as he doesn't exist!
I don't want to call him about it as
he will have more awkward questions.
Oh! Got the top of the lupin.
I could pop a little biog
on the internet, I suppose?
Poor Rene, obviously a foreigner.
So, just fit in there, thank you.
I think he may have trained
in Dresden.
Somewhere sadly flattened by bombs.
Philip, it's Larry.
Can you call me back?
Some more Joyce Hatto weirdness.
And how is Joyce?
Well, yeah, cancer isn't
a barrel of laughs, as you know.
We're keeping our peckers up
pretty well.
Having something to look forward to,
like your piece in the Gramophone.
That's as good as buns to
Joyce, that is.
Right. Now, we have a slight
problem. I believe the Gramophone
still hasn't received the
information they asked for.
That's very odd.
That was all sent in the post many
moons ago. I'll track it down.
But it will involve talking
to someone in Bangalore
with a slim grasp of the language.
There's something else, Barrie. A
friend of mine in New York, you see,
he ordered Joyce's
Transcendental Etudes.
Now he put it into iTunes,
the database recognised
it as the Etudes,
but, well, it came up with a
different name.
Well, that doesn't surprise me.
We've had Joyce Natto, Hitto...
No, no, no, it came up with the name
of another pianist, Laszlo Simon.
Well, there's no logic with
these computers.
Look, Barrie, people are asking
questions about Joyce's output,
questioning the names
of the orchestras.
Now, you've seen all the online
traffic, I know... Philip,
I beg you, do not
say anything of this to Joyce.
And I can't discuss it now.
But I need every little
bit of spirit I can muster
to go in there and be the person
I need to be for my darling wife.
I won't have her for long, Philip.
So I want us to go in there, both
of us with big smiles on our faces,
because Joyce is very sensitive.
Your championing of her
and the prospect of the piece
in the Gramophone are literally
what's keeping her going right now.
Can we carry on this
conversation later?
Oh, yes. We must, we must.
This Laszlo Simon snafu,
I'm as baffled as you are
and I certainly don't want him
getting all of Joyce's royalties!
Barrie was very good-looking.
Yes, and not quite as confident
as he looks there.
Really?
He had a certain air which was
misleading, as it turned out.
We were both vulnerable, I suppose.
Vulnerable people can protect
each other.
Oh, they can.
Or they can double their weaknesses.
But that's the gamble
in a marriage, isn't it?
Now, do have some of Barrie's
Swiss roll, baked in your honour,
and you can use any of the photos
you like for your piece.
Oh, thank you.
Could I just ask you
about your recording
of the Transcendental Etudes?
Of course.
Where did you record them?
Well...
we did them
in a tiny studio in Cambridge
and I was very tired
when I went in to play them.
But if you've done the work,
then somehow... the music can
take over and it did take over.
I almost didn't need to do anything.
And when I finished
playing the last piece...
there was just...
silence.
And all the technical people
on the other side of the glass...
just...
still.
Hmm.
Now, I have a little
parting gift for you.
I don't imagine we'll be
meeting again,
if I can contradict
dear old Vera Lynn.
Ah! Never gave you
my famous marmalade!
Ah, that's fine.
I... I had my present from Joyce.
What was that?
She gave me a test copy
of the Godowsky.
Did she?
I hadn't realised she'd been well
enough to record them.
Look, it's not one of her best.
She hasn't heard it, of course,
but it's not one of the finest.
I won't release it.
As a courtesy to me, Philip,
don't play it.
Look, Barrie, the editor
of the Gramophone wants to get
the Hatto Etudes compared
with the Laszlo Simon.
A proper digital comparison
by an independent source.
Now, can you tell me
if you think that will show up
any problem as far as Joyce's
recording is concerned?
No, I'm sure it won't.
So I can tell him to go ahead.
You fully accept the consequences?
Absolutely.
I'm pretty tired
of all this carping.
I see all this bumf the classical
music buffs put on the internet.
Well, if they think an F sharp that
Joyce played last Wednesday
sounds like a B flat Martha Argerich
played 20 years ago,
then quite frankly,
to use an expression Joyce hates,
which I rather like,
"They need to get a life!"
Now, this isn't just chocolate.
This is Belgian chocolate.
Mmm, Lovely.
Philip get off all right?
He said you gave him the Godowsky.
Yes.
Was I a naughty Hatto?
No harm done.
I forgot to ask him
when the piece was coming out.
It's coming out quite soon.
There hasn't been any more
stuff on the internet?
I thought Philip seemed
a little distant.
No. That's all died down.
Eat up, Ducky.
It wasn't so wrong to do, was it?
No.
If things had been different, you'd
have been selling them all along.
Because I could play, couldn't I?
Oh, I'll say.
I knew that from the day you had
them standing in the aisles
at the Strathmore.
Typical Barrie exaggeration.
Just you and... Miss Guisely.
Enhancement.
Like the recordings.
No harm done.
Hertfordshire's Bonnie and Clyde.
We shan't die in a hail of bullets,
hopefully.
You'll manage, will you?
Looking forward to it, Ducky.
Fill the place with dancing girls.
Hmm...
You sure?
Go on.
Shame to waste it.
Don't you know there's a war on?
'And in a change to our
advertised programme,
'there will now be a tribute to the
acclaimed pianist, Joyce Hatto,
'whose death
was announced yesterday.
'Joyce Hatto had renaissance
in the last few years of her life,
'when unable to perform in concert
because of illness,
'she concentrated on recording.
'Many tributes have been paid...'
Got away with it, Ducky.
The top one's the Laszlo Simon
and the bottom one's Hatto.
They're identical.
And that can't happen unless one's
been copied from the other.
Now, here's the Rachmaninov
second and third.
That's Joyce on the top and that's
Yefim Bronfman on the bottom.
They're slightly different because
they've taken his and speeded it up
and then pitch corrected.
So you'll go ahead with the story.
We need to find one more fake
to put me in the clear legally.
Look, he...
He might just talk to me.
Sure. I mean, it's sad, isn't it?
I'm not trying to crush
the poor old bugger.
If he tells us the truth, I'll print
it and if he doesn't, he's had it.
I'm sorry the Gramophone has
got its knickers in a twist,
but from our end, there is no story.
It's Joyce on the box
and it's Joyce on the recording.
So, the two they've found
are sheer coincidence?
All the others are genuine?
Absolutely.
What about the Godowsky?
We didn't release the Godowsky.
I told you, Joyce wasn't
up to scratch on it.
The Godowsky was clever because
it was nicked from three pianists
and it was speeded up.
So, you could've played it
to Marc-Andre Hamelin
and he wouldn't have had a clue
he was listening to himself.
I mean, it was brilliant, really.
Right, that's going online.
And once the red tops
get hold of it...
Heaven help Barrie.
'So far the husband of Joyce Hatto
'is not, as far as I know, coming
forward with his side of the story.
'But if it does turn out that some
or all of Joyce Hatto's recordings
'are from other sources, that really
will be very sad indeed.'
Mr Coupe.
Mr Coupe.
Look, this is vile.
My father-in-law had cancer. It
makes people absolutely desperate.
That's what we'll pay for
an exclusive. Just call me.
Then you can get rid of this lot.
It's desperately sad, and we want
people to see your side.
Nobody will think the worse of you.
Mr Coupe?
You dumb cluck,
we're cooking for one, aren't we?
Well, we could have predicted it
ending like this, couldn't we?
Typical Barriean muddle.
I'm trying to think if
anything you ever did came right.
No answer came, none.
I hope you're not going to say
I had anything to do with this.
No, we can't have Joyce's name
dragged through the mud, can we?
No, that's right.
Because what you have to remember
is that all the things that
happened to me were your fault.
Because nothing is ever
Joyce's fault, is it?
No.
Joyce mucks up her audition for
the BBC. Is that Joyce's fault?
No, that was Barrie's fault.
He made her nervous.
He was too jolly
or he was too encouraging
or he wasn't encouraging enough.
Joyce has a miscarriage -
not usually anyone's fault
but in this case,
it was Barrie's fault.
Oh, and then, of course,
Barrie went to prison!
Did he murder someone?
Did he hit an old lady
on the head with a brick?
No, he just messed up
on his purchase tax returns,
trying to earn a living so that
Joyce could stay in the house
and Joyce could carry on
playing the piano,
which, by the way, wasn't anything
anyone wanted to pay money to hear.
You said you'd make me famous!
I was stupid, then, wasn't I?
Cos I tell you what,
when I first walked into
the Strathmore and heard you play,
I was quite a happy chap.
I was nothing special,
mucking about at the publishers',
joking with the girls in the office,
but I tell you what, I was doing OK.
You loved me. Yes, I did.
But living with
a disappointed person is hard.
It drains the flippin'
life out of you.
Maybe it was a daft scheme
putting out those recordings
but I thought it might cheer you up.
Simple as that.
So, what are you going to tell
your sympathetic lady journalist?
I could just tell her the truth.
Golly. That would be a novelty.
That you hadn't recorded in years.
That you were too ill to play.
That every interview
you gave was a lie.
That would make my obituaries
pretty meaningless, wouldn't it?
You went down
with the Titanic, Joyce.
I'm the poor sod
clinging to a deck chair.
It's every man for himself.
We're Birdy and Pilks.
We were at the funeral.
We've seen the news
about the recordings
and we've been so upset,
haven't we, Pilks?
Because we loved her and we just
can't see how it can have happened.
You've come to get the full story,
is that it? Well, not...
I'll be giving my story to the Daily
Mail, you can read it in there.
That do you? Oh, dear.
We haven't just come poking around.
Pilks said we shouldn't just turn up
but no-one was answering the phone
and your website's shut down.
Well, I can tell you what I'm going
to tell the Daily Mail, if you like.
But you're not going to like it.
Give Barrie the...
God, I'll forget my head next.
I was having a clear-out
and this was in a cupboard.
Do you remember?
I should say.
They're what landed me
in the Old Bailey.
Look, girls, I...
Girls!
Well, you're girls to me.
Shall we sit down?
You're going to read it
in the paper anyway
so you might as well hear it now.
Your Miss Hatto and my Joyce were
perhaps not quite the same person.
Oh, my God! It still works.
Oh, yes. That's why we brought it.
We interviewed Miss Hatto
for the school mag.
We thought you might like to
hear it. The tape was still in it.
'Miss Hatto...
'Oh, sorry, Birdy,
what am I asking first?'
'What's the best thing
about being a concert pianist?'
'Yes, sorry. Miss Hatto,
can you tell us, please,
'what is the best thing
about being a concert pianist?
'Well, I think it's that
every time you sit down to play,
'you don't actually know
what's going to happen
'because every concert is different,
every audience is different.
'And you don't always want them to
say, "Wasn't Joyce Hatto wonderful?"
'Or you don't even necessarily
want them to say,
'"Wasn't Chopin wonderful?"
or Bach or Beethoven.
'I want them to go away feeling
'something wonderful and special
has happened just to them.
'And what's the worst thing?
'Birdy! What?
'Well, it... it can be quite lonely.
'I'm very lucky,
I have the most encouraging husband.
'I can get a little bit
discouraged sometimes
'when a piece doesn't quite go
as I think it should
'and I say, "Oh, Barrie I can't do
this," and "Barrie, I can't do that"
'and he says,
"Go on, you can do it."
'And he's right, I can.'
Sorry.
I just thought you might
like to hear her voice.
We should scarper, Birdy.
No, no, stay. No, no.
We can read it in the papers.
You don't owe us an explanation.
It's just that
because she always said playing
music was about being honest,
we couldn't really believe
that she would have had anything
to do with something fraudulent.
She didn't.
She didn't?
Oh, Pilks. She really didn't?
She didn't know anything about it.
As far as she was concerned, the
recordings were as she played them.
So they were her recordings?
Absolutely they were.
The trouble was, poor thing...
When she played,
she would make these little noises,
little cries of pain.
She didn't even know
she was doing them.
So I had to find a way
to patch them up
and yes, it's a fair cop in a sense,
I... I made little edits,
but I never took a whole movement,
not even a whole bar.
'It can get a bit lonely,
'but I'm very lucky,
I have the most encouraging husband.
'I can get a little bit
discouraged sometimes
'when a piece doesn't go
quite as I think it should
'and I say, "Oh, Barrie,
I can't do this,"
'and "Barrie, I can't do that,"
'and he says,
"Go on, you can do it.
'And he's right, I can.
'He always says that I'm the
engine driver and he's the oily rag
'and sometimes you need an oily rag
to get the engine going.'
I don't care if the only thing
you ever manage to play
is The Teddy Bear's Picnic.
You know, if you play it with
passion, commitment and truth,
then you'll have my vote.
And you'll make me
a very happy Hatto.