Original subtitles

- How is he? - Worse.

He coughs, he grumbles...

It's a bad day.

Where are the others?

At church.

Today is the 17th...

Madeleine died a year ago today.

He shouldn't go on stage today. He's too sick.

I'm in perfect health! I want to be left in peace!

But start on time or you'll have to perform without me.

It's a bad day.

It is a known fact

that Molière died on February 17, 1673

after the 4th performance of "Le Malade Imaginaire".

Jean-Baptiste Poquelin (Molière) was born in Paris in 1622.

Our story begins when he was 10 years old,

some 346 years ago.

Ace!

Jean-Baptiste?

Are you playing?

Another sou.

I haven't any more.

No more money?

I'll have some tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes!

Let him die!

That's enough!

You will be judged.

What'll we do to him?

What'll we do? Burn his feet?

Yes! And throw him overboard!

Make him eat his snot!

Come down.

You shall remain here in pillory. So say your judges.

No one knows I'm here, they'll never find me!

Too bad!

If you call for help, you're a coward.

If you call for help, you're a coward.

Jean-Baptiste...

I'd have come back.

Want me to rescue you?

Ho, you Moors!

Heretics, damned Jews!

Show yourselves, I see you.

You're hiding behind the armchairs.

Steady, my noble stead.

Rash demons, dare to come forth and face me.

Your eyes will pop out of your heads,

astonished at the sight of my courage.

The stars shine only for me and my just cause.

Courage!

Vile traitors! Stabbed in the back...

Dare to touch

one strand of hair on my mistress's head

and this trusty sword will disembowel you!

I feel my strength declining.

Quick, I must set you free.

My friend, my friend,

do not leave me, do not die, I beg of you.

Come now, courage!

It's my death scene!

It's more dramatic when it's the woman who dies.

Mollier, I need to pee.

God...

God punishes all whenever He chooses.

God punishes all whenever He chooses.

The last ones in, close the door.

The last ones in, close the door.

Sing to an ass and he'll fart in your face.

Sing to an ass and he'll fart in your face.

Do you have lice?

Of course, don't you?

No, give me one.

How many?

One's enough.

The exterior form of the human body

reveals an admirable regularity

in the proportions of all its parts.

But the interior mechanism

is even more admirable.

God's order is revealed therein

in all its glory.

Each organ inhabits this body in order of rank.

The basest ones are near our fundament, the subtler ones

in the chest,

and the highest in that sovereign of the body,

the head, which reigns over

this dear city, even as our beloved King

reigns over his humble subjects.

A foreign heretic,

an Englishman,

now claims that a perpetual circular movement

agitates our blood.

How

could anyone believe

that a man's blood can circulate inside him?

Such a movement

could only unbalance him.

Would it not so derange him

as to make him lose his mind?

Similarly,

can we believe that the earth we live on is moving?

Could we endure such a movement?

Wouldn't the wind be whistling in our ears?

What a din,

what insanity,

what confusion upon this earth turning, turning every which way,

with our entrails agitated by the same diabolical movement.

Where then the serenity needed to contemplate God?

These marvels prove beyond all doubt

that we are the work of God.

God holds us all accountable.

God holds us all accountable.

God punishes all.

God punishes all.

God sees all.

God sees all.

Madame, some bread!

Move, you tub of lard!

Make way and be quick! This is heavy.

You flea-bag, out of the way!

Back up, you bearded goat!

Back up!

Let me pass!

Clear the way!

Move or I'll run you down!

Who do you belong to?

The Duke of Pernes.

The coach belongs to the Duke of Pernes.

My master, the Duke of Villeboeuf, takes precedence.

Make way!

The Duke of Pernes will not retreat. Give way!

Are you going to stay there long, you ass?

Until you melt, you tub of lard!

I get fed, I do! I don't get buggered!

But you'd like to, eh? Wait for me, pretty flower.

How you've grown, Jean-Baptiste.

Dirty again.

Get out!

Get out!

Good day my heart Good day life's sweetest

Good day beloved Good day my dearest

Good day my beautiful lady

Good day my precious

Good day my delicious Good day my love

My sweet springtime

My cherished young bloom

Go help in the shop, you're tiring your mother.

My sweet pleasure

My sweet pigeon My dear little sparrow

My kind turtledove

Good day my sweet love

Crowns!

Crowns for sale!

Crowns for kings on Twelfth Night.

Two of your best.

The very best.

And almonds tomorrow.

Amen for the almonds.

Crowns!

Crowns

for the kings' delight, chosen by fate on Twelfth Night.

Welcome the king's fool tonight

or you will be in a sorry plight!

Let's get on with it, children.

Nicolas, get under the table.

Who gets this beautiful piece of cake?

It's for Mama!

For my daughter, so beautiful in spirit and soul.

And this one.

La Forest.

For La Forest.

And who gets this very, very large piece?

It's for Papa!

Did you hear me well, Nicolas?

Who did you say gets this very, very large piece?

It's for Papa!

- No! - Yes!

Did you hear me?

It's for Grandfather.

As you wish, my dear boy.

And this one?

For Papa!

Who gets the bigger piece?

It's for me.

And this miserable piece?

Jean-Baptiste.

For Jean-Baptiste.

And this

shall be for God.

Who has it?

Why it's me!

And now...

she must choose a king.

Here is my king.

The king drinks!

My little king drinks.

You can't stay there, you children.

Can't see very well.

You can't stay there.

You children can't stay there.

Get away from here. Go on.

Off you go.

Faster than that!

There's no more wine! They promised plenty of wine!

You children can't stay there. Go away.

La Forest.

Why aren't there any fish in there?

Why are you being so quiet?

Are there any fish?

Whose is it?

The next day, returning from school,

they found the courtyard empty.

The doctors were gone.

There's water...

Are you crying?

Come on, you three.

Let's not stay here.

Come with me, children.

Is Mama still not well?

Come in.

- Is he mean? - Yes, he's mean.

I've seen that somewhere before.

What can it be?

Where could I have seen it?

No, it's not possible. Never!

Come, little boy,

give me your hand.

For pleasure,

not for money.

I see so many things there.

What a life!

People,

many faithful friends, women.

Glory.

Glory.

The light

shining on you.

The sun.

Jean, called Jean-Baptiste,

son of Jean Poquelin, master upholsterer,

know you the rules of the trade

of upholsterer?

Work not at night, for the light

is insufficient to work at this trade.

Teach not the trade to a woman,

for it is too serious for a woman.

Work not with any yarn but good and loyal wool.

Make nothing mediocre or false which can be faulted.

Honour Saint Geneviève

as you do Saint Louis or Saint Francis.

Neither blaspheme nor take the name of the Lord in vain.

Do nothing to demean your position.

Know you these rules?

I know them.

Do you so pledge?

I do so pledge.

What's the matter?

What is it?

Will you answer me?

What am I going to do with you?

With all of you?

The more I observe you,

the more worry you cause me.

For the last time, Jean-Baptiste, what do you want?

Answer me!

Why are you hiding there and listening?

I'm not hiding!

You see I'm calm and ready to listen.

I advise you to answer me, Jean-Baptiste.

I'm losing my patience.

Can't lose what you haven't got.

Will you keep quiet?

What are you going to do?

What's to become of you?

Do you want to be a man with no trade?

An idler,

of no use to anyone?

- Poor? - Even worse.

A vagabond, haunting our cities?

A vagabond...

Enough! I want you to keep quiet!

You! Speak up.

- Will you obey me or not? - I'm not talking.

What are you doing?

I'm thinking.

He may not want to be an upholsterer.

What does he want?

He may want to study.

What a beautiful day.

- Heard the news? - No.

Your grandson doesn't want to be an upholsterer.

What good news!

Monsieur has an idea.

Monsieur wants to study.

What a good idea.

But I don't want it!

Do you know these admirable lines by Corneille?

"Heaven's decisions are not governed

"by our wishes."

I've talked myself hoarse telling him that.

Jean-Baptiste, do you hear what Corneille says?

But the quotation is meant for you, monsieur.

Thus it was that Jean-Baptiste Poquelin,

an upholsterer's son,

set off to study law in Orléans.

And there, for the first time in his life,

he encountered pious men.

God, in his wisdom,

has inspired us to form, here in our city of Orléans,

an Order of the Holy Sacrament,

so the Kingdom of Jesus Christ

may be established here in our sinful city.

As you know, the Order in Paris

governs all the other orders in the kingdom.

Therefore we asked them to send us the statutes

and also a few sparks of the sacred fire

that inflames the members.

We have received the statutes

and I propose that we study them today.

Our task is to understand them without changing any rule.

The Order's principal goal will be to combat

the sins committed in our city,

as well as in the provinces

under our safeguard.

We cannot tolerate any confrere who does not live like a Christian.

Anyone not living like a good Christian

will be charitably warned by the director of the Order.

And if he doesn't heed the warning?

Then I think the Superior must help the director

to reason with his errant brother.

And if that is insufficient?

Then we gather all the officers,

to seek gentler and more persuasive means,

to set the brother back on the right path.

And if he's obstinate?

He is crossed off.

Two brothers will be named to visit the galleys

to confess and instruct convicts who curse, blaspheme

or otherwise misbehave.

Galleys in Orléans?

Lacking galleys, we'll visit

hospitals or the prison.

Neither misery nor our devotion will be found lacking.

As for atheists,

deists, free-thinkers, heretics, schismatics,

profaners and blasphemers, we shall try to show them the way.

What if they're incorrigible?

We must threaten them with the magistrates.

And if threats fail?

Then we denounce them.

We must observe,

be vigilant...

and have necessary information reported to us.

Jews must not be allowed to settle in our city.

We must work to suppress

the terrible immodesty of the nudity of women.

We must see to it that all bohemian women

are run out of our city.

We must open a house of refuge

to incarcerate prostitutes,

brothel-keepers and other shameful women.

We shall make every effort to oppose

the debaucheries of Carnival-time.

Monsieur Nefle,

that is your concern as Lieutenant of Police.

How will you prevent such licentiousness?

Carnival starts tomorrow.

Tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow morning.

And what if the population learns, as I have,

that the tax collectors have arrived?

Tonight? On the eve of the Carnival?

Weren't they mauled enough in Tours?

And I am to protect them during Carnival?

There will be no Carnival

if our new and holy Order so decrees.

Eradicate the blasphemy at its very roots.

Let's put a stop to the Carnival!

Such an action will go down in our annals.

Instate the order of God in our provinces.

Such is our mission.

The entire city takes part in this festival.

It might be sufficient

to forbid the university students

and your students here, to participate.

That way, my task might be simplified.

We'll simply restrict our students to the college.

I'll have it announced right away.

Father Guillaume, can you notify the students?

I think you can announce it immediately.

To prevent the licentiousness,

disorders and sacrilege

which characterized the past few Carnivals,

and so that you can search your souls

and pray before Lent,

we have decided, gentlemen,

that you are confined to the college for four days.

You are strictly forbidden to leave the grounds

or to permit entry by any unauthorized person.

That's settled.

That's settled.

They've understood. They're staying at home.

Gentlemen, we must repel them!

The Carnival has been banned.

Courage, gentlemen, courage.

You can't stay there, it's forbidden!

Silence!

The students are confined, they'll stay in their rooms.

Go home!

Repel them! Repel them!

Please go home!

Go home!

Listen!

The tax collectors are here,

free to squeeze us dry like the grapes in autumn.

Meanwhile we are locked in

on this traditional day of joy and liberty.

Keep still! I order you to keep still!

Remember our song? "These friends of bandits

"are the ones who trouble the order of things.

"They abuse their pastoral powers."

The Church has become a cavern of thieves.

Disperse these birds of prey.

Stop! Go back to your rooms or you are damned.

My hat!

Give me back my hat!

The tax collectors!

- To the river! - To the Loire!

Into the Loire!

Have we forgotten

the horrible spectacle

of brutal desires

being fulfilled without obstacle?

When any violence

and total abandonment

prevailed in plain day

by his commandment.

In every quarter

the people called out in fear

and the blood flowed,

mingled with tears.

Everywhere was heard

sounds too terrifying for words.

Heaven's vault was pierced

with pitiful cries,

rising from our misfortune

which had taken us by surprise.

The women, the children,

half-dead with fright,

rent the air

with their laments.

But it is time to act,

the time for talk is past.

Our knives are ready

to slay the tyrant at last.

You have vomited the word that seals your fate.

You shall die a hundred deaths, ordered by my hate.

Threaten rather to compel me to live under your rule.

No other misfortune could seem as cruel.

Only the fear of such a fate

could make me tremble.

Bravo!

Come in, monsieur.

And close the door, please.

And don't just stand there.

I don't want to be a lawyer.

I'm revolted by it.

I hate chicanery.

What do you want to do?

He wants to be an actor.

I must have misunderstood.

Jean-Baptiste...

explain yourself.

I want to be an actor.

Go up to your room, my boy.

Think it over.

Think it over carefully.

When you've changed your mind, come down again.

I've thought it over.

I will be an actor.

Were present in their person...

And so he joined the Béjart family.

Were present in their person,

Germain Clairin, Jean-Baptiste Poquelin,

Joseph Béjart, Nicolas Bonenfant...

The soup's hot!

Georges Pinel,

Madeleine Béjart, Catherine Desurlis...

Let's eat.

and Geneviève Béjart.

The agreement they have signed voluntarily,

as cited below, unites and binds them

as a theatrical company.

The name of their troupe is

The Illustrious Theater.

Drink.

Item:

New plays proposed to the troupe shall be conceived by the authors,

so that none may complain of the role he is assigned.

One prerogative agreed to by all,

is that Madeleine Béjart may choose her roles.

Item:

That all things concerning their theater,

all matters foreseen or unforeseen,

shall be decided by a plurality of voices.

No one among them may contradict such decisions.

Duly signed in Paris, before Marie Hervé,

widow of the late Joseph Béjart, residing in Paris,

mother of the named Béjarts,

in her home,

before this notary, in the year 1643, on the 30th and last day of June.

Duly signed by all.

A toast!

Here.

The Illustrious Theater!

The Illustrious Theater!

To us.

And to Corneille!

Take me with you, I'm coming with you.

Later.

To drama!

What fun we're going to have.

My little bird, my little urchin,

my lovely baby, my sweet Menou!

I say it's a mistake to put on a tragedy.

A good comedy is what we need,

not a bad tragedy.

Mama, go to bed.

- I'm not sleepy. - Quiet!

Why?

Because you tire me out.

You two aren't too tired?

Nicolas, it won't be seen.

This is a theater, not a goldsmith's shop.

What about the pleasure?

It's ready.

Jean-Baptiste!

- Where is he? - At his father's house.

He's looking for an armchair for Act II. Why?

Descartes is in Paris.

Where are you going with that?

- With what? - My armchair.

I'm borrowing it.

Leave it here.

I need it.

So do I.

- You never use it. - I was going to.

It's just for the theater.

Precisely!

I'll pay for it one day.

Liar! You'll never have any money. Thief!

My armchair! Out of my sight!

Fine, I'm leaving.

Without my armchair.

Jean-Baptiste, Descartes is in Paris.

He'll be speaking at Dupuy's place.

Father!

Hurry, he'll have started.

...that there is a God who is omnipotent

and who created me as I am.

Perhaps some of you here

would like to deny the existence of such a powerful God.

Let us not dispute them for the moment.

Let us suppose, in their favor,

that what has been said about a god is a fable.

I would therefore suppose

that there is no true god

who is the sovereign truth

but rather some evil genius.

What do you think of Molière?

Listen to Descartes.

Molière.

I would then think

that the sky, the air,

the earth,

the colors,

all these external things that we see,

are only illusions.

And I would consider that I was

falsely assuming that I saw all those things.

But such a project is tortuous

and laborious.

And I fear that this project,

instead of illuminating my search

for truth,

is not even adequate

to cast light upon the shadows

that have been stirred up.

There you are, gentleman.

Tomorrow I shall read you more of these Meditations

before I leave for the kingdom of Sweden.

Monsieur, why not stay

here in France?

Because, madame,

I thought I noticed during my last sojourns

that France was a heavily policed country.

That does not suit the free spirit I am trying to be.

To serve you, madame.

Meanwhile, in the Palace at the Louvre

there was much concern about a new young king.

The death of the late king, my lords,

came as no surprise.

However, his long illness

filled me with such grief,

that until now,

I have been unable to find consolation

or to place my trust.

The Queen's beauty

and dignity

are so radiant

that no prince of the realm does not think as I do.

The regency should not be shared.

The Queen is most worthy of assuming it alone.

How heavy is the blow

that now lays me low.

The temples of the false gods

and their false idols of gold

shall see in their debris

the effects of my words so bold.

And I shall know,

wherever my power holds sway,

how to make my subjects

adore the true God's way.

This glorious God,

who is my salvation,

and who, in my privation,

by His holy favor

reinforces my dedication.

Shall console my heart

by his secret voice's declaration

and make me

conquer all

in the shadow of the cross's thrall.

Here now is Probe,

returned eftsoon.

Probe, returned so soon?

Does the haughty beauty still contrive?

Or is she now resolved?

She is no longer alive.

What so soon?

Was iron,

fire or rope her doom?

No, Sire,

she died in a tub full of water,

as from one bathing room

to another she did go.

She herself started

the hot water flow.

The water, through four ducts at once

poured in like a torrent,

filling the vessel

to the brim in one moment.

The boiling water's steam

stifled her final scream.

And

while the superb

and sad empress...

And while

the proud empresses mourn her,

laced in her sash was found

a coffer filled with gold.

That evening

the resident troupe of the Hotel de Bourgogne celebrated.

They were still the best.

Well?

A fiasco! The worst I've ever seen!

How could they be so bad?

My God, I pity them.

They're so young.

The night is ours.

Farewell!

Pommier, we owe him 1100 pounds.

Giraud, I don't know how much.

Lenormand, 3000 pounds, I think.

Antoinette Simon, that bulldog won't let go!

You'd have to kill her first.

Never again will I act with your company!

What can we do?

I'll go talk to them.

Stop worrying, he's going to talk to them.

I understand your concern.

We're poor,

without resources.

You gain nothing by throwing us in prison.

Poquelin, out!

A mountebank, that's what you are!

A juggler! A marionette!

A parasite!

And what are you? Upholsterer!

A good-for-nothing, and with my money.

That's it, your money.

And my armchair?

Where's my armchair?

But this is the last time!

Adelaide, look at me.

I'm going to travel. Farewell, my dear.

Thus it was that Jean-Baptiste and his tribe left Paris.

They set out to find the celebrated troupe of Monsieur Dufresnes,

whose patron was the Duke of Epernon.

They discovered

the kingdom of France.

She wants water. Where's the gourd?

Raped by foreign soldiers no doubt.

The French, the French.

Bread.

We have nothing to eat.

I tell you we have nothing more, madame.

If we had the smallest crust

we'd give it to you.

We have nothing for ourselves.

You not know any more.

Try again but eat slow.

Eat slow.

Good, we share.

They're eating our horses. I want some, too.

It was just outside Toulouse

that they found

the famous troupe of Monsieur and Madame Dufresnes.

What is it? Is it good to eat?

Here, Menou.

What is it?

- That's not the Dufresnes. - Yes, it is.

They're blowing away.

They are the Dufresnes?

Of course they are the Dufresnes. That's them.

You're as stubborn as a mule.

Perform, perform, no matter what happens.

Let's keep calm, my dear wife.

Set up the stage, in spite of everything.

In spite of winds and storms.

A plague on stubborn mules.

My sweet better half, keep calm, please.

Nothing vexatious finally happened.

Nothing vexatious!

We were half over the cliff,

half smashed to bits.

And you say nothing vexatious happened to us?

Do you think you are stronger than the wind?

The wind! The wind!

The wind, my dear wife,

is the servant of sailors and millers

but it will never be

the master of thespians!

Madeleine!

You old madman!

Madeleine Béjart, my favorite actress.

Catherine de Brie.

Edmée de Brie,

her husband.

Too bad she has a husband.

Maxime, our valet.

Not Maxime, Maimé.

René du Parc, known as Gros-René.

Let's go.

And in all this movement

they also took along the Italian woman named Thérèse.

So ends

the first part of the life of Molière.

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