“The Audition (Find The Monkees)” Script

Act One

INT. THE PAD

MICKY:
Ah, we’re being invaded by martians. Ahh!

MARTIAN:
Hi, fellas.

DAVY:
Micky, will you cool it? It’s the Four Martians.

MICKY:
Oh.

MIKE:
Hi, what’s up, babe? What’s happening?

MARTIAN:
We need a guitar string.

MIKE:
Oh, okay. I think I got one. Yeah, which one do you need?

MARTIAN:
You got a B?

MIKE:
Yeah, B. Okay? What, are you guys playing a gig or something?

MARTIAN:
Better. We’re auditioning for Hubbell Benson.

MICKY:
Hubbell Benson, the, the TV producer?

MARTIAN:
Yeah, he’s looking for a singing group to star in his new TV show. Didn’t you guys get an invitation?

PETER:
Oh, uh, sure we did.

DAVY:
Yeah.

MICKY:
Sure.

DAVY:
Sure.

MARTIAN:
Oh, well, okay. We’ll see you at the audition. Thanks for the string.

MIKE:
Yeah.

MARTIAN:
Later.

MIKE:
Thanks. Uh, good luck. Hey, let’s check the mail.

DAVY:
Bill, bill, a bi…hey, there’s nothing but bills here.

PETER:
How come the Martians got an invitation and we didn’t?

MIKE:
Well, you know, there are probably very few invitations. Two or three.

MICKY:
Sure. Hey, it’s the Foreign Agents.

AGENT:
Hi men. Did you get your invitation?

DAVY:
Uh, no. You see, our mail doesn’t come ’til late Monday.

PETER:
Uh, like, Thursday.

AGENT:
Well, uh, got to split for rehearsal; this is our big chance.

MICKY:
A ha. Big chance.

GIANT:
Yo ho ho!

PETER:
Oh, hey, it’s the Jolly Green Giants.

GIANT:
Yo ho ho!

MIKE:
Hey, uh, what’s new, Jolly Green Giants? Uh, ho ho ho.

GIANT:
Hiya, Monkees. You wanna know what we got in the mail?

MICKY:
Yes.

GIANT:
An autographed photo of Annette Funicello.

MICKY:
Oh!

DAVY:
We thought you meant you got an invitation to Benson’s audition.

GIANT:
Oh, yeah. We got that too.

“(Theme From) The Monkees”

Act Two

INT. THE PAD

PETER:
Boy, it’s not fair; we’re as bad as any other group in town.

MICKY:
Right, man. But all those other groups got invitations ??? audition.

DAVY:
Yeah, except us.

MIKE:
Oh, what are we gonna do?

PETER:
Well, we can’t take this lying down.

DAVY, MICKY, MIKE:
Oh, Peter.

PETER:
Boy, I hope we starve.

MIKE:
We are starving.

PETER:
They’ll be sorry when they find us dead on the floor.

MIKE:
Oh, Peter.

PETER:
I can see the headlines now: “Skinny group found in California.”

MIKE:
Oh, Peter.

DAVY:
Wait a minute. Why don’t we just send a tape to Mr. Benson?

MIKE:
What tape? What tape?

DAVY:
The tape we did on that tape recorder we hired.

MICKY:
Oh! Man, I think I left the tape in the recorder when I returned it.

DAVY:
Oh.

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

HUBBELL BENSON:
And we’ll have those contracts in the mail early in the morning. Regards to the wife. Bye. Easy on the old trapeze muscles there, Tony, baby.

MASSEUR:
Yes, sir, Mr. Benson.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Watch your foot, Tony! Miss Chomsky?

IRENE CHOMSKY (V.O.):
Yes, Mr. Benson.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Where’s the dictaphone?

IRENE CHOMSKY (V.O.):
It’s broken.

HUBBELL BENSON:
It’s broken?!

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Olé. Olé.

HUBBELL BENSON:
I’ve got a TV show to produce, contracts to dictate.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Your dictaphone is being repaired. I rented you a tape recorder.

HUBBELL BENSON:
A tape recorder? Okay. Bring it in.

EXT. NBC STUDIOS

DAVY:
Are you sure it’s alright to come here without an invitation?

MICKY:
Man, how else are we gonna get an audition with Benson? Come on.

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

HUBBELL BENSON:
You know what you’re doing, Miss Chomsky?

IRENE CHOMSKY:
I think so, Mr. Benson.

“Mary, Mary”

HUBBELL BENSON:
Hey, who are they? What’s going on?

IRENE CHOMSKY:
I’m sorry, Mr. Benson, I can’t understand.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Sensational. Sensational. That’s great. That’s the group I’m looking for. They’re gonna star in my new TV show. Who are they, and get ’em over here.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
I can’t, Mr. Benson.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Can’t? You say “can’t”? I find the stars of my show, and you keep saying “can’t”?

IRENE CHOMSKY:
That tape was on the machine when I rented it. I can’t imagine who they are!

HUBBELL BENSON:
Miss Chomsky, if you say “can’t” one more time, you’re fired.

IRENE CHOMSKY (V.O.):
But I can’t, Mr. Benson.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Miss Chomsky, you’re fired.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Thank you, Mr. Benson.

INT. STUDIO LOBBY

MIKE:
Williams, Gaspar, uh, Benson Hubbell Productions, three-oh-two.

MICKY:
Shall we?

DAVY:
Yes.

MICKY:
Oh, Peter, please tell me it isn’t the hiccups.

PETER:
It isn’t the hic-cups.

DAVY:
How are we gonna perform as a group if you’ve got the…

PETER:
Hic-cups?

DAVY:
Yeah.

PETER:
I’m sorry about this, but I…hu…always get the hiccups…hic…when I perform for a big producer…hic.

MIKE:
What are you talking about? This is the first time we ever performed for a big producer.

PETER:
Well, it’s a hundred perc…ent so far. Hic!

DAVY:
Come on.

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

HUBBELL BENSON:
Oh, we’ve got to find that group!

IRENE CHOMSKY:
I’ve called the booking agents, every disc jockey in Hollywood, and the recording company.

HUBBELL BENSON:
The hospital?

IRENE CHOMSKY:
You don’t think we’d find them in a hospital?

HUBBELL BENSON:
No, that’s for you if you don’t find them.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Good, I need the rest.

INT. STUDIO LOBBY

PETER:
Hic!

DAVY:
Listen, I’ll get rid of your hiccups. Now, just imagine you’re in some far off place, and you’re on the rolling high seas, and you’re heading for Madagascar.

MIKE:
Hey, he’s turning green.

DAVY:
Hey, Peter, what’s the matter?

PETER:
I’m seasick. Hic.

DAVY, MICKY, MIKE:
Seasick?

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

HUBBELL BENSON:
What’s happening, Chomsky?

IRENE CHOMSKY:
I checked with the talent scouts, the movie and TV studios, all the discotheques, and still no luck.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Ha! I’ll find that group myself. When I want an idiot to do a job, I’ll do it myself. Idiot.

INT. STUDIO LOBBY

PETER:
Hic! Hic! Hic!

MICKY:
Now, forget it, Pete. Now, listen. You’re a thousand miles away, it’s springtime, and it’s a field of new mown hay.

MIKE:
Oh, he’s changing color.

PETER:
Ah, achoo! Hay fever.

DAVY, MICKY, MIKE:
Hay fever?

HUBBELL BENSON:
Pardon me, gents.

PETER:
Six, hic, eight, hic, ten, hic, twelve, hic…

HUBBELL BENSON:
When he hits twenty-eight, kid, you better sell fast.

PETER:
…hic, twenty, hic… hic… twenty, hic, twenty-two, hic…

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Did Hubbell Benson, a big man with polka dots come past here?

DAVY:
Polka dots? Yeah, he just went out that way.

PETER:
…twenty-eight, hic…

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Better sell fast, kid. Mr. Benson!

DAVY:
Hey, that guy must have been Hubbell Benson!

PETER:
Hubbell… hey, my hiccups are gone.

MICKY:
Yeah, so’s our chance for an audition.

DAVY:
Maybe we can still catch him. Come on, let’s go.

INT. BUREAU OF MISSING PERSONS

INSPECTOR:
Sure you’re alright?

HUBBELL BENSON:
Oh, it’s, it’s nothing. Some kids tried to stop me getting into my car, but I shook ’em off.

INSPECTOR:
Sure did.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Probably a bunch of autograph hounds. Now, the important thing is you’ve got to find me that singing group.

INSPECTOR:
You’ve come to the right place, Mr. Benson. We’ll find your group for you. Finding things is our business. I’ll take down all the details, and, uh, just, if I can find… what I’m looking… P… P, P… No, maybe it’s in D. Huh? Uh-uh. Not there.

HUBBELL BENSON:
What are you looking for?

INSPECTOR:
Huh?

HUBBELL BENSON:
I said, what are you looking for?

INSPECTOR:
Oh, uh, uh, a pencil. I had it here just a second ago. It just couldn’t disappear, could it?

EXT. STREET

DAVY:
We almost had him that time, fellas.

PETER:
He does wear out of sight clothes.

MICKY:
You know, I still say the only way we’re gonna get in there for an audition is to just go right up and just, just see him.

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

IRENE CHOMSKY:
You say you know Mr. Benson?

PETER:
Know him? Why, he cured my hiccups!

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Your hiccups?

PETER:
Sure, see. Hic! Like that. Hic, hic, hic. Thirty-five, hic, thirty-seven…

EXT. STREET

PETER:
Hic! Hic! Hic!

MICKY:
Oh, well. Man, there’s only one way to get rid of hiccups.

DAVY:
What’s that?

MICKY:
Scare it out of him.

DAVY, MICKY, MIKE:
Bleh!

PETER:
Hic! Hic! Hic!

DAVY:
It didn’t help much.

PETER:
Hic! Hic! Hic! Hic! Hic!

DAVY:
He’s worse than before.

DAVY, MICKY, MIKE:
Hic! Hic! Hic!

Act Three

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

HUBBELL BENSON:
You’re alright with the hangnails there, Tilda.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Still nothing, Mr. Benson.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Easy on the half-moons, Tilda.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
More newsmen outside. They want to know if there’s any truth to the rumor that you can’t find a certain rock and roll group.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Hold it.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Okay.

HUBBELL BENSON:
What’s wrong with me?

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Well, you’re rude, irritable, impatient, mean, ugly, ???…

HUBBELL BENSON:
I’ve got the greatest little publicity gimmick to promote my new show, and I don’t use it.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
…but not very nice, very stingy, and…

HUBBELL BENSON:
Easy on the half-moons, Tilda, easy.

EXT. STREET

???:
Ooh, easy, big fella.

MIKE:
Hey, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. If we can’t get in to see Benson, uh, in person…

MICKY:
Yeah, right.

MIKE:
…we’ll phone it in.

DAVY:
Right.

PETER:
Alright.

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

HUBBELL BENSON:
That’s the story, boys. I want to star ’em, but I can’t find ’em.

REPORTER:
That’s quite a story. The mystery group and the half a million dollar contract.

HUBBELL BENSON:
You better make that a million dollars; it’s going to be an hour show. Easy on the half-moons, Tilda.

EXT. STREET

MIKE:
Uh, hello, can I speak to Mr. Benson, please? Hello, Mr. Benson?

“Sweet Young Thing”

MIKE:
Hello?

WOMAN (V.O.):
Mr. Babson’s office.

MIKE:
Mr. Benson…

WOMAN (V.O.):
Mr. Babson’s office.

MIKE:
No, I wanted Hubbell Benson. Oh, uh-huh. Hey, um, I’m sorry. Wrong number.

DAVY:
Here, let me try. Hey.

MICKY:
Door!

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Mr. Benson, there’s a Mr. Jones on the phone. He says it’s urgent.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Ah, yes. Excuse me, fellas. That’s probably Byron Jones in the New York office. He’s always got something urgent. Alright, Jonesy, start talking. Easy on the half-moons there.

EXT. STREET

DAVY:
Shh!

“Sweet Young Thing”

OPERATOR (V.O.):
That will be ten cents, please, for the next three minutes.

DAVY:
Got any money?

MIKE:
No, uh, Micky, have you got any?

DAVY:
Got any money? Oh, thank you. Well, hello? Mr. Benson? How did you like that? Mr. Benson? Hello? Operator?

OPERATOR (V.O.):
Hello, may I help you, sir?

DAVY:
Oh, yeah, uh, we’re musicians, and we’re rehearsing…I mean, um, we’re, we’re auditioning in a phone booth, and we got cut off. What we gonna do now?

OPERATOR (V.O.):
Do you know “Melancholy Baby”?

DAVY:
Oh, that’s very funny, yeah. Okay, mate. The phone booth’s yours.

INT. THE PAD

MICKY:
Hit me. Twenty-one, you lose.

DAVY:
What’s happening in the morning papers, Peter?

PETER:
Lil’ Abner, Peanuts. Oh ho ho, say, this is funny. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! This little guy hits the big guy over the head with a club, and the big guy hits the little guy in the jaw. Ho ho ho ho ho.

DAVY:
What comic strip is that?

PETER:
What, comic strip? This is the editorial page.

DAVY:
You’re insane. You’re out of your mind. Hey, look at that. Hey, fellas. Did you see this?

MIKE:
“TV executive hunts mystery group.”

MICKY:
What does it say about it?

MIKE:
It says Hubbell Benson, uh, blah-blah blah-blah blah blah blah-blah, and they don’t know who they are. He’s out trying to find them. Man, that’s justice for ya; here we are trying to get in to see him, and he’s out trying to find another group that isn’t even trying.

DAVY:
And to top it off, he doesn’t even know who they are.

PETER:
Well, if he doesn’t know who they are, why don’t we be them?

MIKE:
Oh, come on, Peter. We don’t even know what they sound like.

PETER:
Well, how many different kinds of groups are there?

“Papa Gene’s Blues”

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Something wrong, Mr. Benson?

HUBBELL BENSON:
I give up. I’m tired of looking for that mystery group. What do you say we audition the crowd we sent out the invitations to? Maybe there’s something. Maybe.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Right away, sir.

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

IRENE CHOMSKY:
The first three groups are here, Mr. Benson.

HUBBELL BENSON (V.O.):
Well, bring in the first one.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Yes, sir. Okay, fellas. Jolly Green Giants first.

INT. HUBBELL BENSON PRODUCTIONS

GIANT:
Yo ho ho!

HUBBELL BENSON:
Alright, boys, let’s hear what you can do. Chomsky, let’s record this.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Yes, sir. Here we go.

“Mary, Mary”

HUBBELL BENSON:
Not again, Chomsky!

GIANT:
That’s The Monkees.

HUBBELL BENSON:
You know that group?

GIANT:
Sure, The Monkees, a no style group. They live at the beach.

HUBBELL BENSON:
The beach? That’s the group I want. Chomsky, get ready. Catch the phone book. We’re off to the beach to find The Monkees.

GIANT:
But, Mr. Benson, we’re as good as they are!

HUBBELL BENSON:
Ho ho ho!

INT. THE PAD

DAVY:
Hey, what’s that terrible racket?

MIKE:
Terrible racket? Man, it’s your playing.

DAVY:
Oh, come off it.

MICKY:
Sounds more like the Foreign Agents.

PETER:
No, no, it sounds like the Four Martians.

MIKE:
You know what it sounds like?

DAVY:
What?

GIANT:
Yo ho ho!

MIKE:
Sounds like the Jolly Green Giants.

DAVY:
Hey, it’s Mr. Benson!

HUBBELL BENSON:
Say you’re the Monkees.

DAVY:
What? Can you speak into this?

HUBBELL BENSON:
I said, “Say you’re the Monkees”.

DAVY:
Oh, we’re the Monkees, we’re the Monkees.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Oh, eureka!

PETER:
No, we’re American.

HUBBELL BENSON:
We’ve been looking everywhere for you.

DAVY:
What’d you say, what’d you say?

HUBBELL BENSON:
I said we’ve been looking everywhere for you.

DAVY:
Oh! I thought that’s what you said. Ha ha.

HUBBELL BENSON:
Quiet! Quiet! Play, boys, play!

DAVY:
Okay.

“Sweet Young Thing”

HUBBELL BENSON:
Hold it, hold it. That’s the sound. That’s the sound, boys. You’re gonna be the stars of my new TV show. Why, within one month, you won’t be able to turn on a television or radio set without hearing you play my theme song. How does it go, Miss Chomsky?

IRENE CHOMSKY:
La la-la la-la, la-la la la-la la-la, la la-la la-la la. La la-la la-la, la la-la la-la, la la-la la la-la!

HUBBELL BENSON:
That’s it! That’s the sound! Irene Chomsky, I never knew. Right under my own nose. Why, what’s wrong with me?

IRENE CHOMSKY:
Well, you’re rude, impolite, ???, cheap, ???, ???, absolute unpalatable…

HUBBELL BENSON:
Miss Chomsky, you’re the star of my new show.

IRENE CHOMSKY:
…terribly rude, mean, ugly, and furthermore, cheap, very cheap!

Tag

EXT. STREET

PETER:
You know, I really feel bad about blowing that big chance, man.

DAVY:
Don’t worry about it, Peter; we all felt bad.

PETER:
Yeah, but I felt so blue, I wanted to do something silly, like… forget show business and go to the South Seas or something.

DAVY:
No kidding.

PETER:
Then, after all, I thought to myself, so what? So we lost a hundred dollar job.

MIKE:
A hundred dollar a week? Peter, stars make more than a hundred dollars a week.

PETER:
They do?

MIKE:
Sure they do.

PETER:
How much do they make?

MIKE:
Oh, I don’t know. Some might make as high as five thousand dollars a week.

PETER:
Five thousand, five thousand dollars?

DAVY:
Don’t you worry, Peter; one of these days, we’ll get our break. Peter? Hey, Peter?

MIKE:
He’s gone!

DAVY, MICKY:
He’s gone!

INT. BUREAU OF MISSING PERSONS

MIKE:
Well, he’s about, uh, uh, five ten.

MICKY:
Has light brown hair.

MIKE:
Yeah, and he cries a lot.

MICKY:
Has hiccups.

MIKE:
Yeah, hay fever.

DAVY:
And he gets very seasick, but he still may be heading for the South Seas.

INSPECTOR:
Oh, okay. I had a pencil here somewhere.

DAVY:
Oh, a pencil.

INT. SET

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
Hey, fellas, uh, we do a lot of pictures that have fights in it and, uh, gangsters and everything. Do you ever get into fights yourselves?

DAVY:
We had an incident in Hawaii where somebody, uh, remarked about my hair.

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
About your what?

DAVY:
My hair. Being long, you know?

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
Yeah.

DAVY:
And there was like ten big guys and little old me.

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
Are you sensitive about that?

DAVY:
Um, I’m not sensitive, it…you know, if it’s, like, you know, in jest, somebody laughs and says, you know, just one thing, but if they carry on about it, it makes me mad.

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
If you went into a restaurant, uh, they, you know, refuse to wait on you because of your hair or something like that, you know, are you quick to strike back?

PETER:
I invoke my Constitutional rights.

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
Ha ha. What do you do? You leave.

PETER:
No, I go…I invoke the Civil Rights Act.

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
There’s been a lot of talk about the riots that have been going on on Sunset Strip.

PETER:
There was a riot. You know, there was a lot of vandalism.

MICKY:
There haven’t really been riots. They’ve been…ac…in actuality, since I, since I was there, they’ve been demonstrations. And, uh, but I guess lot of p…a lot of people and, uh, journalists don’t know how to spell “demonstration”…

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
What are they dem…what are they demonstrating?

MICKY:
…so they use “riot” ’cause it only has four letters.

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
First, tell me a little bit, what, quickly, what are the demonstrations and who’s taking place in them?

MIKE:
Well, it’s mostly the kids, um, that are, uh, from the ages of around fifteen to, I’d say, twenty or twenty-one. Uh, under eighteen, it’s a California law that, uh, you’re not able to go into a teenage nightclub, uh, that sells alcoholic beverage. There’s a ten o’clock curfew imposed on these young people that, uh, uh, regardless of whether it’s, uh, a good thing or a bad thing, uh, they still don’t like it. I think it probably has a lot to do with the fact that, uh, uh, of somebody telling them they have to be in by ten o’clock. Um, that’s sort of the same thing as saying that they have to cut their hair. You know, I mean, it’s, it’s against the law to tell somebody they can do that, which puzzles me.

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
Would you like to see all the kids in the country wearing hair like yours?

MIKE:
I would like to see all the kids in the country wearing their hair like they’d like to wear it.

BOB RAFELSON (O.S.):
How do you fellas, how…Micky, how do you feel about that?

MICKY:
Exactly. Exactly.

PETER:
I’m with you. I’m with you.

MICKY:
And when it first happened, there was a few comments made. One by the, the sheriff of Los Angeles. He said that the curfew should be abolished. He says take the babysitting job out of the hands of the police, put it in the hands of the parents. If the parents think their kids can be out after ten, they should be out.

PETER:
Most everybody that was there says that the vandalism was caused by kids in their very late, like eighteen, nineteen, twenty, and twenty-one, like that age kid. The only people representing the kids are the kids themselves…

MIKE:
And I…

MICKY:
But they’re not there.

PETER:
…and nobody listens to kids talking for kids because kids are only kids, you know, and they go through this vicious cycle…authority does. I’m being very general ’cause I don’t want to like call names or anything.

DAVY:
The reason I haven’t spoken all this time is because that it doesn’t matter what I say, nobody’ll listen to me because I’m under twenty-one. So I’m just keeping my mouth shut.