Original subtitles

SAPIENCE

Sapience is more active than any action, for it reflects eternal light.

The Book of Sapience

Sapience enters not into a malicious mind,

and science without conscience destroys the soul.

François Rabelais

He made cities rise from the fields,

towers reach for the skies,

bridges to link lonely banks.

He provided pathways for those moving forward,

work spaces for the industrious,

roofs for those without shelter.

I am proud to present this Golden Cord for lifetime achievement

to Alexandre Schmidt.

Minister,

ladies and gentlemen...

it is a great honor and a pleasure to receive this prestigious award

for a lifetime of work.

My father, also an architect, instilled in me a certain rigor,

and my humanitarian mother

imparted a concern for my fellow man.

I've been asked to build churches.

And once, a synagogue.

I've always refused, for I am a materialist,

and despite my Swiss origins, a true proponent of French secularism.

But I have built factories,

the cathedrals of the modern age,

for I believe man is self-sufficient

and finds salvation through work.

However, my generation's optimism must be tempered.

Humanity has made great progress,

but we now face serious threats to the environment.

We've lost our bearings.

In the time I have left,

I'd like to blaze new trails,

so that after I'm gone,

architecture may continue to ensure mankind's well-being.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Your speech was very good.

Official speeches are quite particular.

I've had a lot of practice.

Still, it was good.

Thank you for coming, Aliénor.

Of course.

Compared to national averages, residents of Les Zinguettes

have a 37% higher rate of illiteracy,

a 57% higher rate of unemployment

and a 27% higher rate of delinquency.

Nevertheless, they are fortunate.

Our colleague, Aliénor Schmidt, has taken an interest in them

and conducted a study of their situation.

As Isabelle just pointed out with the use of statistics,

the residents of Les Zinguettes are clearly at a disadvantage.

But statistics cannot convey their true misery.

Ninety-three percent of these people are in a cultural centrifuge.

Meaning?

They come from another culture and are disconnected from ours.

Their children, raised in a hierarchy of vertical values

with the paternal referent at the summit,

witness daily the humiliation and demasculinization of the father.

The paternal model must be revalued.

In other words, they need a good shot of testosterone!

Despite the undeniable merits of your project, Mr. Schmidt,

merits that saw it win the bid,

the board members present here today and I have agreed

to ask you for several modifications.

First of all, let's not beat around the bush,

there's a value-for-money problem.

We must considerably lower the overall costs

while increasing by at least one third

the number of housing units in our new urban center.

Next -

and this is the only way to resolve the previous problem -

we must totally demolish the old town of Tourelles,

accept the urbanization of the terrain in the surrounding fields,

and fill in the two ponds.

The need for green space, which we unanimously support,

can be respected by adding a garden to the esplanade over the bypass

and balconies with planters to the housing units.

Mr. President...

I understand the specific reasons for your concerns about my project.

But this is the project that won the bid.

We do a lot of demolishing nowadays.

In the past two years,

three of my first housing projects have been flattened.

Replaced, no doubt, by equally inhumane abstractions

generating as much misery as mine did before being flattened in turn.

For the project I've created for you,

I propose we retain the nucleus of the preexisting urban concept -

the town of Tourelles -

and develop it organically.

I also wish to conserve the associated rural elements

as part of the fabric of the town.

The trail I'm blazing here is as new for me as it is for you,

and I want to follow it.

I stand by what I said.

You have two months, Mr. Schmidt,

to revise your project.

Hi, it's me.

Me, you know! Me, me.

Got the guts to talk to me?

Say something, you wet rag.

Where are your balls?

Spare me your claptrap. I've heard enough.

Yes or no?

Did you fuck her?

Answer me! Yes or no?

Yes or no?

Bastard.

May I come in?

Yes.

I'm leaving tomorrow.

Was it planned?

No.

I thought as much.

I feel a need to write about Borromini.

That's an old project.

Too old.

Where will you go?

Ticino, and Rome.

It'll also be an opportunity to think.

Can I come with you?

I also need to think.

- Are you free? - I could be.

Fine.

We'll fly to Milan,

then rent a car and drive to Switzerland.

It'll be nice.

Yes.

This is Bissone, Borromini's birthplace.

His ghost cannot fail to see the progress of the modern world.

FRANCESCO BORROMINI WAS BORN IN THIS HOUSE - 1599

Can I help you?

My sister gets dizzy spells. Nothing serious.

- Does she need a doctor? - No, we'll go home.

- Do you live in Stresa? - Yes, in the old town.

Try and find a taxi.

Come sit down while we wait.

That's a good idea.

- Is he your husband? - Yes.

My sister's name is Lavinia. I'm Goffredo.

My name is Aliénor.

Lavinia.

It's all right, Mom, just one of my dizzy spells.

This nice couple brought me home in a taxi.

Thank you, signori.

I'll take my daughter to her room.

Goffredo, offer them something to drink.

How long has your sister been ill?

It started when she was very little,

shortly after our father died.

What do the doctors say?

Apparently it's a nervous disorder.

Does she suffer from it constantly?

There are periods of remission.

Then she'll get dizzy or faint,

followed by symptoms of wasting.

Wasting sickness ceased to exist in 1914.

My sister wasn't informed.

Does she go to school?

We tried, but it's impossible.

She has private lessons and takes exams.

She has two years to go before graduating.

And what do you do?

Me?

I just graduated.

So now what?

After summer holidays, I'll go to Venice to study architecture.

My husband is an architect.

Really?

I'm very lucky to have met you then.

I don't see why.

I would be of no more use to you if I were a baker.

My grandfather was a baker before he retired.

I love him more than anyone.

You're up early.

I've been awake for a long time.

Will you go back to bed?

No.

I'm going to Lugano to do some research.

Will you join me?

Today I'd like to visit that girl.

I'll be back late afternoon.

We'll have dinner together.

Yes.

Come in.

Your mother said I could come up.

I'm glad she did. Come in.

Pull up a chair and have a seat.

How are you feeling today?

Still weak, but that's normal.

Normal?

It's always this way for several days after my dizzy spells.

How frequently do you have them?

Generally every two or three months.

But my life accommodates them, more or less.

It really has no choice.

I'd like to speak French.

It's becoming a rare language.

I studied it in school.

Then let's speak French.

Are you on holiday in Stresa?

I came with my husband.

Is he on holiday?

No.

If you go back to France soon,

maybe we could write each other.

We aren't leaving for a while.

In French, I make spelling mistakes.

So do I.

Why did you invent such a complicated set of rules?

To make work for the Académie Française.

Madam?

- It's me, Goffredo. - You frightened me.

I didn't mean to. I'd like to show you something.

- Where? - Here, in my room.

- You're not afraid to come in? - No.

Come in.

What I want to show you is over there.

What is it?

A model I built for a new city.

Where do you want to build your new city?

Somewhere in Europe.

The entire city is built around a central element,

the temple.

- Of what religion? - All of them.

People from different religions

would never enter the same temple.

Here they will.

In all temples there is a presence.

The architect must summon that presence.

How?

Through light.

What about people who do not believe in any God?

They will feel the presence.

Would you like to sit down?

For a moment.

Yesterday, a presence worked in our favor.

Why do you say that?

Because we met.

My husband says all encounters are chance encounters.

I don't believe that.

Nor do I.

But in that case,

we're not free.

When we're inside architecture,

we're enclosed in a space and yet we are free.

Do you believe you and I are inside the same architecture?

Yes.

You should talk with my husband.

I'm not sure he wants to.

Yes he does.

Would you join us for dinner tonight?

With pleasure.

Meet us at 8:00 on the main square.

I'll show you down.

No need.

See you tonight.

I was sure you two would have plenty to talk about.

Architecture is my passion.

I want to learn.

Architecture has nothing to do with passion.

And at your age, one has everything to learn.

I believe one is always moved by passion.

Otherwise one is no longer alive.

That's a beautiful observation.

In any case, we're leaving for Rome tomorrow.

I'm staying here

until Lavinia has fully recovered.

I have to go.

I understand.

But you can make the trip to Rome with Goffredo.

What?

He'll keep you company.

For him it will be a study trip.

I can't afford a trip.

You'll be our guest.

Right, Alexandre?

It will be a pleasure.

I don't know how to thank you, madam.

Call me Aliénor.

How are you feeling today?

Since you entered the room, better.

What exactly do you do?

I work in behavior.

Are you a psychoanalyst?

I've studied sociology, psychology and psychoanalysis,

but I apply it to human groups.

- Human groups? - Yes.

What's your analysis of the people of Stresa?

They seem to be doing well.

I generally focus on unhappy groups.

How do you tell them apart?

Happy groups are rich.

Unhappy groups are poor.

Then the people of Stresa don't interest you?

Professionally, no.

I could not hope to make them happy.

I'm reading Madame Bovary now.

I read it when I was your age.

Emma is part of a rich human group.

Yet she is unhappy.

Because her life has no meaning.

And lives with meaning are happy lives?

I think so.

Even for poor people?

Of course.

Are there still rich people like Emma whose lives have no meaning?

Naturally.

That must make your job very complicated.

Indeed.

Perhaps it even makes it pointless.

You speak Italian very well.

I haven't said anything.

You spoke in Stresa.

What language did your parents speak?

My father spoke German.

My mother, French.

Where did you learn Italian?

I studied in Venice.

Let's keep moving. We'll spend the night in Turin.

I reserved two rooms.

I've never been to Turin.

It's a beautiful city.

Guarini was a great architect working in Turin.

He rationalized Borromini's principles.

He did it by inserting moving forms into geometrical figures,

thus stabilizing them.

In your opinion, is that good or bad?

From a French point of view, it's good.

Borromini couldn't have had a career with us.

And in your opinion?

It's very beautiful.

And very learned.

But Borromini went beyond knowledge and beauty.

Ever since I was a student I've wanted to emulate Borromini.

But I've never managed to connect with him.

What lies beyond knowledge and beauty?

I can't find the word to express it.

Then you must do it.

That's the dome of the Chapel of the Holy Shroud,

for which Guarini took inspiration from Borromini's La Sapienza,

using the same geometric stability.

But we can't visit that chapel.

Why not?

About 10 years ago someone set fire to it.

It's still being restored.

- Someone set fire to it? - Yes.

To burn the Shroud.

Why?

When people try to destroy something or someone,

it's usually because the person or thing disturbs them.

Was the Shroud destroyed?

It was saved in extremis.

I'd like to see the Shroud.

Next time it's displayed I'll probably be dead,

and you'll be a grown man.

Hard to believe I'll be a grown man one day,

or that you'll be dead.

The photographs of the Shroud are the most interesting thing.

I believe there is an exhibition nearby.

Let's go see them.

I'm an atheist,

but it's hard not to be unsettled by these images.

The image on the shroud is a negative.

You must photograph it to get reality.

So this reality has been visible to mankind for only a century.

In theory, it can't be the shroud of Jesus.

Laboratories have dated it somewhere between the early 13th

and late 14th century.

Then it is the shroud of another Christ.

Why do you want to be an architect?

To create spaces.

Spaces?

Yes.

Spaces are nothing but emptiness.

Emptiness which must be filled.

With what?

Light.

And people.

You're right.

I congratulate you.

I neglected the light.

Then you should add it.

Better you don't come today.

She had a bad night. I think she'll sleep most of the day.

You're very kind.

I'll call this evening to see how she's doing.

Have a nice day.

Good-bye.

San Carlino alle Quattro Fontane was Borromini's first commission.

He worked on it, in stages, for a good part of his life.

First the church, then the Trinitarian convent,

then the church facade.

All its forms are based on the same ellipse.

What is an ellipse?

It's a circle.

A perfect form, closed and immobile,

that frees itself to become perpetual motion.

But this one rises.

And though the cupola prevents us from seeing the sky directly,

we can see its light.

Here, in the intimacy of the cloister,

the moving forms truly reach the sky.

The facade is also in perpetual motion,

but its form is self-contained.

It does not reveal the church's structure,

but suggests a space in constant flux,

the truth of which is hidden.

Here, it would seem,

Bernini used the same elliptical plan.

But it's more of an oval than an ellipse.

The terrestrial space, below,

ends at the cornice.

Above it are angels, in their world.

Finally, we reach God's space,

represented,

but contained within a circle

with no element to bring us inside.

Borromini is the mystical baroque,

offering, to he who enters, a personal experience.

Bernini is the rational baroque,

respectful of power,

hierarchies

and rules.

You explain it very well.

It's close to my heart.

Why?

I am Bernini.

Good morning, madam.

You said I could come this morning.

Good morning, madam.

Lavinia is still very weak, but you may go see her.

I'm not sure it was a good idea for her brother to go away.

Next year he'll be in Venice.

But she'll have all summer to prepare.

This was unplanned.

Have they never been apart?

No more than a few days.

That could be the key to Lavinia's illness.

Many brothers and sisters grow up together

without it making them ill.

Of course.

You may go see her now.

Thank you.

Come in.

Your mother said I could come up.

It's so nice of you to come. Come sit down.

Thank you.

You look tired.

Speaking French will energize me.

Does your brother's absence feel dangerous to you?

I'm not the one who's in danger.

Yet you're the one who's sick.

I'm ill, but I'm in no danger.

Who is in danger then?

Goffredo. I've known since I was little.

And you're shouldering the danger?

I have no idea.

You're a psychoanalyst,

you can explain it better than I can.

Tonight in Stresa, a French theater troupe,

Le Théâtre de la Sapience,

is performing a baroque version of Le Malade imaginaire.

I suppose you're still too weak to join me.

Not at all. I feel better already.

I'll book tickets and call at 7:00 to see if you're up to it.

I will be.

Two espressos, please.

Wouldn't you prefer to face the piazza?

No, I prefer to turn my back on it.

Why?

This place is too full of memories.

Painful ones?

At my age, all memories are painful.

Why?

Because of the distance between past and present.

There is no distance.

If you look behind you,

you'll see that your past is here now.

Like a ghost?

Yes. But ghosts never do any harm.

You have a lot of imagination.

Only normal.

Why?

I'm 18.

Isn't one in a bit of a daze at that age?

Perhaps you've forgotten.

Quite possibly.

Thank you.

Have you any news from your wife?

More or less.

Meaning?

Her telephone is always off.

Or she's not answering it.

Did you leave her a message?

I left her three.

Earlier she answered me with a text.

But she loves you.

Where did you get that information?

In Stresa, when I invited her into my room,

I could tell right away she'd never cheat on her husband.

You're a keen observer of women.

How long have you been together?

We were married 19 years ago.

Before I existed!

That's right.

Do you have children?

Not anymore.

But you did?

Yes.

A year after our marriage.

When Aliénor fell pregnant, we were both very happy.

Aliénor had a little girl. We called her Virginie.

At six months we learned she had Down syndrome.

What did you do?

I wanted to institutionalize her.

Aliénor insisted we keep her at home.

That caused a great deal of tension between us.

Did you argue?

No.

We grew apart.

I had affairs with other women.

But you're still together.

Our daughter died when she was eight.

That brought us back together.

It was like a sacrifice.

It was a deliverance, in any case.

That's when Aliénor began the work she's doing now.

But the past still torments her, like a ghost.

We're talking a lot about ghosts today.

They are souls in search of peace.

What do ghosts need to find peace?

An architect, to give them a place.

And light.

You're not too tired?

No. It did me a world of good to get out and see that play.

Argan's double resurrection is a metaphor for psychoanalysis.

Really?

His simulated deaths are the expression of his neurosis.

He resuscitates when hidden realities come to light.

And becomes less neurotic with his loved ones.

Because he's able to love them?

Maybe.

I read that when he wrote the play,

Molière was actually sick.

He even died playing the part.

Maybe his death was a sacrifice so his character could go on living.

Must there be a sacrifice for life to continue?

I think so.

I'm trying to convince myself otherwise.

The burden Goffredo and I bear

is not a secret any form of confession could deliver us from.

So what is it?

Something that has its own life,

and has attached itself to us.

Like a ghost.

I don't believe in ghosts.

Yet I am certain that you believe.

In what?

In something.

I would like to believe.

You believe in love, don't you?

I try.

You love your husband.

Yes.

But he too carries a heavy burden,

and no confession has ever liberated him.

When I met him he was full of energy and confidence.

But I sensed he was wounded inside.

It still shows.

Yes.

Before I met him, he'd founded an agency with a partner, François.

François was two years younger but he was a greater artist.

Alexandre knew that.

He felt jealousy rising up in him like a disease.

How do you know all that?

Alexandre told me.

François was fragile.

He drank.

He was unlucky in love.

Instead of trying to help, Alexandre would put him down, humiliate him.

- Did your husband tell you that too? - Yes.

What happened?

One night, François shot himself in the head.

Ever since...

Alexandre has been haunted by his presence.

It is stronger than any other.

Even stronger than mine.

- What's the matter? - Nothing.

- Yes, there is. - I'm a little dizzy.

- I'll get a taxi. - I live right nearby.

Let's go then. I'll pay at the register.

I'm sorry.

It's Aliénor.

She's well.

A young French architect I know

heard I was in Rome.

He invited us to lunch at the Villa Medici tomorrow.

I accepted.

I think you might find it amusing.

Then I shall prepare to be amused.

Good night.

You seem sad.

Not at all.

I'll have insomnia, and I'll write.

Good night.

- Alexandre? - Yes?

I never lock my door.

If you feel blue, come see me.

We could talk a bit.

I never have any trouble getting back to sleep.

That's kind of you.

It's unsafe to sleep with the door unlocked.

I always light a candle.

- So? - So I'm protected.

By the candle?

By the light.

Good night.

Adolescent, Francesco Castelli leaves his family in Ticino for Milan,

where he works as a stonecutter at the Duomo site.

Around the age of 20, he leaves for Rome.

He goes from northern fog to the golden light of Lazio...

from gothic forms to those of Ancient Rome...

and from the legacy of anonymous Medieval artists

to that of Michelangelo.

Carlo Maderno, a relative of his,

hires him to work on Saint Peter's Basilica,

alongside another apprentice architect, Gian Lorenzo Bernini.

Between the two young men, initially friends,

the tension soon rises,

culminating in open rivalry.

Francesco Castelli adopts the less common name Borromini.

The two young men work together on the Palazzo Barberini site.

Their rivalry manifests itself in many personal ways,

and artistically, in the windows,

which display details characteristic of either Bernini

or Borromini.

Though he worked mainly as an underling,

Borromini's genius is evident in a spiral staircase.

I won't tell your son.

He's not my son.

And I'm going out to look at architecture.

Borromini is hired by Pope Innocent X

to transform the Basilica San Giovanni in Laterno,

Rome's cathedral.

While his crew works feverishly to finish for the jubilee year of 1650,

a certain Marcantonio Bussone

sneaks onto the site with a big rock

and begins to destroy the sculpted ornaments.

The workers try to contain him.

There is a violent melee.

When it's over, Bussone lies on the floor,

dead.

Called before the pontifical judge,

Borromini defends his workers.

He'd asked them to give Bussone a beating,

but no one wanted him dead.

He also contends he is the victim of a plot,

claiming the vandal was hired by an enemy, whom he doesn't name.

The workers are acquitted.

Borromini is sent into exile in Viterbo.

Shortly thereafter,

he is pardoned by the pope and called back to Rome.

But the deed cannot be undone.

Hello?

Aliénor, hello.

I'm quite tired, but it's all right.

Mom always worries, so the doctor is coming over.

He'll give me something to help me sleep.

No, on the contrary.

It was very important you tell me that story.

Because now I understand.

I understand why we all met.

I do. Soon you'll understand too.

Have a good day, Aliénor.

Yes.

If I don't answer, I'm asleep.

Yes.

My regards. Speak to you later.

When Borromini was commissioned for the chapel,

the Palazzo della Sapienza already existed.

He sought not to destroy it, but to add something to it.

The facade is concave,

which appears to open up the space.

But inevitably...

we alight upon an element that rises.

We encounter many obstacles that draw us back toward earth...

but always find ourselves moving upwards again...

until, via an inescapable trajectory...

we reach a source of light.

Gentlemen.

We'd like to visit the chapel. Could you open it for us?

I'm afraid not, sir.

My colleague has the key.

The poor man is at home, sick.

I'm sorry for him.

There must be a duplicate key.

I'm afraid not, sir.

A duplicate key would be against regulations.

I understand.

When might we be able to visit the chapel?

When my colleague recovers, sir.

It's closed.

He says he came from Australia to see it.

It would be closed even if he came from the moon.

He came from far away.

Accompanied, no doubt, by a kangaroo?

He says he came with his wife.

Perhaps his wife is a kangaroo?

In fact,

the head office ordered my colleague to stay home.

The poor man is bored silly.

He comes here every morning, at dawn.

If you come first thing tomorrow, before the official opening time,

and ring the bell, I'll be able to let you into the chapel.

Welcome to the Villa Medici.

- Hello. - Hello, André.

This is Goffredo, a future architecture student.

- Hello. - Nice to meet you.

- Do you speak French? - A little.

I'll introduce you to everyone,

but first I'll explain a few things to avoid any blunders.

The girl to the left of the fountain

is Maria Rosaria Vittori, an Italian painter.

She's a countess, with a palace near Campo dei Fiori.

All sorts of things go on there.

The guy with her is Thomas Gridaine.

He's a mixed-up - I mean, mixed-media artist

currently in residence.

Up until a few weeks ago,

he was with the other girl, Charlotte de Brissac,

a writer in residence.

Rebound or revenge, she's now after that other resident,

Marc Mérancourt, a filmmaker.

But he's not into girls.

He's always been in love with Thomas.

Sounds awfully complicated.

Just everyday life at the Villa Medici.

It appears to be raining.

No luncheon on the grass for us.

Luncheon on the grass is so passé.

Let's lock ourselves up in the dark.

In the dark?

For lunch?

It'll be decadent.

And delicious.

I recently saw the rectangle on two matchsticks

you built in New York.

It's superb.

You could describe it that way.

But it's in São Paulo.

I always confuse those two cities.

What kind of building is it?

A hospital.

I designed it without windows to allow for rigorous scientific control

of the patients' conditions.

A brilliant concept.

I wouldn't do it again.

It merely habituates patients to the absence of windows in coffins.

Where will you study, Goffredo?

In Venice.

Venice is such a bore.

I've heard it's beautiful.

Meh.

And I'll have my studies to occupy me.

If you're looking for fun, Rome's not far.

There's always room at Maria Rosaria's palace.

Are you working on an architectural project, André?

I'm trying.

But lately I've been helping an archaeologist friend.

He's working on an Etruscan site in northern Lazio.

On the dig?

Partly.

But mainly on inscriptions.

Their language fascinates him.

It's a very mysterious language.

Every language is a mystery.

I thought it was incomprehensible.

A number of words have been deciphered.

My friend thinks he may understand a sentence.

What is it?

On a fragment of stone,

we recognized two known words.

“Dawn” and “treasure.”

Then, written in Etruscan letters,

was the Latin word sapientia.

How did your friend translate that gibberish?

“The treasure of dawn is sapience.”

You look anxious, madam.

Do you understand French?

I am French.

I do not wish to disturb you, madam,

but you seem awfully sad.

Perhaps I am.

Being born is a heavy load.

It takes strength to make it to the end.

Where are you from, sir?

According to my passport, Iraq.

I'm awaiting a visa to go to France.

Were you driven out by the war?

By the wars.

The first one was 1,300 years ago.

Meaning?

I am a Chaldean from the Nineveh plains.

We are Christians and speak Aramaic.

I thought the Chaldeans were extinct.

Not quite.

Was it harder for you in Iraq than for the others?

It's hard for everyone there.

But we have no place.

Did you leave with your family?

I'm a widower.

Two of my children left before I did.

My eldest son lives in the land of the barbarians who liberated us.

My daughter is in Paris.

You didn't want to leave?

No.

I wanted there to be a little place back home, a village,

where we could speak our language

and listen to French radio.

What made you change your mind?

I lost my youngest son.

Two months ago, he was beaten to death in the street.

He was 19.

What will you do?

I have refugee status.

I will join my daughter, then die.

I know my language will be lost, as will my religion.

I am stupidly trying to save my body,

though it must also disappear.

I wish I could do something for you.

I spoke to you, madam,

because I could see you were sad,

and I know you have no reason to be.

Why do you say that?

They used to say that we Chaldeans

could read destinies in the stars.

Yes, I've heard that before.

Your destiny is to find a place.

A Place?

All of our misfortune comes from being refused a place

where we could receive the light of God

and love our fellow man.

But for you, such a place will be built,

for you are loved.

I am loved?

Yes.

How do you know that?

I heard it earlier,

while looking at a star.

In his final years,

Borromini suffered from increasingly severe bouts of melancholy.

While working on Sant'Agnese in Agone,

he was appointed a guardian.

One of his young assistants, also called Francesco,

was assigned to sleep in the next room

and watch over him.

Signor Cavaliere, it's time for you to go to bed.

I want to finish.

You must rest now.

I'm not sleepy.

I was told you must be in bed at this hour.

I'll go to bed when I want!

It's for your own good.

If you take my lamp, how will I see?

At this hour, your dreams are all you should see.

Come.

Come to bed.

Leave the lamp.

No, I must take it.

You must sleep.

When I wake up, how will I draw?

You'll have the sun.

I rise before the sun!

Good night, Signor Cavaliere.

Master Francesco!

Yes, Signor Cavaliere.

Bring me the lamp!

It's too early, Signor Cavaliere.

I want to write.

You must sleep now.

You'll write with the dawn.

I want to write now.

Bring me the light.

I must obey the orders I've been given, Signor Cavaliere.

I'm the one giving the orders!

You are my master, Signor Cavaliere.

I'm learning my art from you.

But there are others I must obey.

I order you to bring me the lamp!

I no longer have a place.

I no longer have light.

How can I live without light?

Many hours pass.

Cavalier Borromini is overcome with despair.

I will make a place for myself.

I will write in the light of God.

I will wound myself,

but I will do good.

Signor Cavaliere,

what happened?

I'm coming, Signor Cavaliere. I'm coming.

Where are you, Signor Cavaliere?

In the dark.

Signor Cavaliere!

What have you done?

I've wounded myself,

and I'm going to die.

But why, Signor Cavaliere?

To find the light.

I have done wrong.

No, Master Francesco.

You're a good man.

All this is my fault.

No, Master Francesco.

I am the one who did it.

And I did it for you.

I shall always bear the blame.

On the contrary, Franceschino.

You are saved.

We are saved.

Saved.

Good morning.

Come in.

Hello?

Hello, Lavinia.

How are you?

Are you sure you feel well enough?

I'm ready to go out.

Right away.

When Dad was still alive, he would bring us here on Sundays.

It's beautiful.

Let's hope they don't build here.

In the past, when man built, he didn't destroy the world.

No.

You are doing better, Lavinia.

I'm well now.

How do you know?

I felt it this morning.

It's strange...

when I awoke this morning, I also felt better.

What did you think about upon awakening?

My husband.

I thought of Goffredo.

It was as though he'd sent me a message,

but there was no messenger.

There was.

You just couldn't see him.

These messengers are everywhere.

What might we do with that causeway?

No point destroying it completely.

What was there before is lost forever.

So what would you do?

I'd cut it open to make the lake whole again,

and get rid of the cars.

What would you do with the remaining pieces?

On that side I'd build houses.

A new neighborhood for Bissone.

On the other side, a little wood.

It's a shame you don't teach.

I always refused to teach.

The very idea repelled me.

Why?

Maybe I was afraid.

You must have had many offers.

Yes.

The school in Venice has asked me to come next spring

to teach first-year students.

And you refused?

I haven't given them my answer yet.

But I think I will say yes.

Then I will be your student.

Yes.

As I am yours.

If there's no traffic from Bissone, they'll be here any minute.

Goffredo told me to meet him where we moor our rowboat.

I must wait here.

We'll see you later then.

I'm no longer afraid, Goffredo.

What were you afraid of?

The shadow looming over you.

Now I see nothing but light.

I love you so much, Goffredo.

Because we love each other, we must part ways.

I know.

This is the last day of our childhood. Then I must leave.

Yes.

But now we are free.

Let's take a spin on the lake, then join our friends.

Yes.

Aliénor.

Was it a good trip?

Yes.

It turned out I was the student.

What did you learn?

That what I know is useless.

Ridding ourselves of the useless is perhaps the most difficult thing.

Yes.

And we can't do it alone.

Where do you want to go from here?

I thought I was an artist, I thought I was knowledgeable.

But the source of beauty is love

and the source of knowledge is light.

At the source, we find sapience.

- A beautiful word. - Yes.

But forgotten, like so many things.

I'd forgotten many things too.

I've always loved you, Alexandre.

If I have any time left, I want to love you too.

Perhaps we'll have the time we need.

If I glimpse sapience, I want to transmit it.

How?

By providing a place for those who seek light.

In my way, I'd like to do the same thing.

In the light we shall have children.

Yes.