Original subtitles

PART TWO

We resume our story of Molière's life

as he begins 15 years of wandering.

He is by humors possessed!

These humors will rise up through your duodenum

until they reach your cerebellum!

I have found you out, my faithless wife,

while my head is on the pillow, you peccadillo!

He flatters you in order to betray you.

In the provinces, they don't like tragedy.

We might at least try it.

I have tried. They threw baked apples at me.

So I stopped trying.

That never happened to me.

I don't know.

I don't know how to act like that. I can't!

Calm down and try again.

Poor Sganarelle, you're old and sick.

No, no, no!

Old people don't want to be sick.

Just think about it!

They try to walk erect!

The flesh may be weak but the spirit is still willing.

Follow me.

That's better, it's all in the eyes.

That's it.

Madeleine!

Got it!

Got it!

I'm sick.

I'm old.

What do you want?

I'm scared.

Good evening, Thérèse.

Move, Hercules!

Madeleine, come and see!

Just try!

Push!

Wait till Maimé tells us to push!

Because you can't push until you're told to?

You, too, push!

I am pushing!

Who got us into this mud-hole?

I'm seven years older than he is.

It worries me sometimes.

In 20 years it won't show.

You're wrong.

That kind of breach always grows.

Tell me, did you hate me for it?

No, I'm not jealous of you.

That even surprises me, in fact.

And Thérèse?

She's no threat, she's a brunette!

Madeleine, we were just talking!

Madeleine!

When you depict heroes

it's just a portrait.

It needn't be life-like.

But ordinary men must be drawn from nature,

recognizable as men of your times.

Otherwise you've done nothing!

So Corneille has done nothing!

Muses, grant me patience!

Who's talking about Corneille? Forget Corneille.

A serious play, to be above reproach,

only needs to be sensible and well-written.

In comedy, that's not enough.

You must be amusing, too.

Have you finished?

And so the years went by

with their joys and their sorrows.

Stand back, actors!

Stand back, heretics!

Away from the benediction of the Lord!

The child, Menou, was becoming the girl, Armande.

Louis XIV was also growing up.

Always comedy!

They're at it again!

A tragedy is a thing of beauty.

A tragedy is a thing of beauty, when well-written.

I prefer a comedy.

Both are difficult.

You must admit the farces we present

do not resemble comedies.

There is no comparison between such absurd farces

and the beauty of serious plays.

Comedy is more difficult.

Fool! Ignoramus! Idiot!

It is easier to accuse...

Keep still!

Let us eat in peace!

It is wrong to accuse fate and insult the gods,

rather than to share the shortcomings of men.

Then forget the sublime, forget sacrifice,

forget courage, forget honor and there is nothing.

Eat slowly.

One day, along the way,

they encountered Charles Coypeau d'Assoucy,

vagabond and poet.

They liked his looks and took him with them.

What news from Paris?

England has been a republic for a year now.

The leaders of the Fronde have been exiled to the provinces.

One of them, the Prince de Conti, took refuge near here.

Descartes is dead.

Descartes is dead?

The King has returned to Paris.

In short, all is not well,

except for an Italian musician sent to us by the heavens.

His name is Lully. He is highly talented and knows it.

He is trying to win the King over.

I dare say he will succeed.

- Tell me you love me. - Oh, my Gros-René!

Gentlemen...

We serve Monsieur de Conti! We will receive you

at his chateau.

At last!

We're going to perform tragedy.

Pack up, we're going to be warm this winter.

First we finish, then we pack up.

We have a patron now.

You can't refuse the Prince de Conti.

I want no more of this repertory.

I want no more of this wandering!

I'm through, too.

Then leave!

We'll go on performing.

For whom?

My lord,

Monsieur Molière is here.

My lord,

may I present the actresses

and the actors of our troupe to you?

Mademoiselle Madeleine Béjart,

Mademoiselle de Brie,

Monsieur Joseph Béjart,

Monsieur Louis Béjart,

Monsieur Du Parc

Mademoiselle Marquise Thérèse Du Parc.

You will have to make me laugh a great deal.

L'Etourdi... The Blunderer

If the title's bad!

It's excellent.

The characters:

Lélie, son of Pandolfe, Célie, a slave,

Mascarille, Lélie's valet, Hypolyte, son of Anselme,

Anselme, his father, Trufaldin, an old man,

Pandolfe, a gentleman, Andres, thought to be Egyptian,

Ergaste, Mascarille's friend, a messenger

and a troupe of mummers, no, two troupes.

The set is set in Messina.

Music...

Act I,

Scene I.

Lélie and Léandre,

Lélie: "Well, Léandre,

"we shall have to begin.

"We'll soon see...

"who'll win"

"who'll win."

Preamble, out!

I didn't have enough time.

Act I,

Scene II.

Marotte!

No one's listening.

Everyone is!

- Louis isn't. - He is!

- I am! - With your eyes shut,

you can't hear!

- I can. - You can't!

- I can repeat it. - Repeat it!

L'Etourdi, a comedy by Molière. Get on with it!

Let's hear if it's a good comedy.

Act I, Scene I...

Léandre

and Lélie

Lélie:

"Well, Léandre, we shall have to begin.

"We'll soon see who'll win.

"We shall compete for this young miracle,

"each hoping to overcome any obstacle."

The season has started badly.

We're having November

in the month of May.

Monsieur de Conti

is not here.

He is visiting

Monsieur d'Apremont,

who is most devout

and highly partisan.

May heaven grant

that he not return to us

in the guise of a fanatic.

The state of grace in which I now find myself,

the order of truth...

and the law of Christian discipline

condemn the immoral pleasures of your spectacles.

Sensuality

exerts such power over men!

I was damning my soul, with your help.

You condemn to hell all who listen to you,

enchanted by your grimaces which blaspheme the Holy Name of Jesus.

You are evil.

But we know

how to silence you.

Cover yourself, madame!

And now

stop barring the path to my salvation!

I shall soon be in Paris.

If you need help, you may count on me.

Armande, come see.

Menou, come see Paris.

Their friend kept his promise.

He introduced them to Monsieur, the King's brother.

If Your Highness will do us the honor,

these are the gentlemen of the troupe.

And Monsieur La Grange, a newcomer.

Make way for the King!

The King has passed.

Monsieur de Cosnoc,

I give my name to the troupe of Monsieur...

I take them under my protection.

In ten days they shall play at the palace.

Your Highness has, in Monsieur Molière, a loyal servant,

whose devotion knows no bounds.

Come see, he's wearing an enormous hat.

With feathers! And he has a big nose...

He's there!

I must relieve myself.

Wait, I'll go with you.

Me, too.

I'm going, too.

Thus returned in glory

it is sweet, my Lord, to greet thee,

to behold again

thy honored dignity.

Though fate has been kind

and to mercy inclined,

my heart is sore-stricken,

and troubled is my mind.

I sorrow to see thee

though with loving eyes,

for fear that it be true

that my love is unwise.

They're making a Nicomess out of Nicomède!

To disguise her fears and jealousy

behind this lying mask

of false constancy

is her sole task.

Hold me back or I'll strangle him!

Take up once more your royal scepter.

A true king is neither husband nor father,

he looks to his throne,

naught else must matter.

Rule!

Rome shall fear you

more than you fear Rome.

I don't understand.

Could the play be bad?

The play is very good, one of Corneille's best.

Go apologize to the King and his brother!

Apologize to the Cardinal and everybody!

Do Le Docteur Amoureux and make them laugh!

Get to work...

Get to work...

Get to work...

Get to work...

Sganarelle... scoundrel!

Sganarelle... scoundrel!

Sganarelle, sweep that up!

Sganarelle, sweep that up!

All that!

Your Majesty, look at all that.

Your Majesty, I don't want to sweep all that.

Your Majesty, please...

We were much amused by you, monsieur.

The King's given them the Petit Bourbon.

To share with the Italians? Good luck to them!

Monsieur Scaramouche...

You see before you your most devoted disciple.

The Pretentious Young Ladies

Sganarelle or The Imaginary Cuckold

The School for Husbands

And the troupe began to change little by little.

What's the matter?

I'm thinking of leaving.

I need a change.

And Thérèse?

She's free, she can do as she likes.

Are you staying or leaving?

She's going to the Marais!

I'm old enough to speak for myself.

And too old for some things.

I'm not still playing virgins at age 35!

Looking at you, I can play virgins till I'm 150!

You're getting so fat

he'll have to write a role for an elephant.

After all,

why force them to stay?

I'm not forcing anyone to stay.

I'm waiting for your advice.

Try the Marais.

They'll write roles for you.

As if that were the point.

What else are we talking about?

Who writes plays for those two?

Who always gives them the best roles?

- That I must say... - Keep still, Beauval!

Leave it to women to argue about their roles.

Who cares about that?

Not you! You've been pampered.

Pampered? Me?

You can have my roles...

take them!

If you're capable of playing them.

It's what you've waited for!

I'm not leaving.

- I'm being chased out! - I'm being chased out, too.

We're not needed now that you have your royal stipend.

Paris is at your feet, you'll be rich and famous.

I want some glory for myself!

And we're not married, to the best of my knowledge.

They'll come back.

- Don't worry. - What do I care?

La Grange was right.

Thérèse and Gros-René soon came back.

The contract.

Were present: Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, Sieur de Molière,

René Berthelot...

That's me!

Damoiselle Marquise Thérèse de Gorla, his wife

and Madeleine Béjart, being over 18...

The aforenamed

have, of their own free will,

voluntarily formed

an association

to perform in the theater together

for a period of four years.

Four!

They may not perform separately,

for any other troupe...

Any other troupe!

in Paris or in the provinces.

Not even the Hotel de Bourgogne.

Not even the Hotel de Bourgogne!

Penalty for infractions shall be 10,000 pounds,

as damages.

I want to...

I want to take advantage of this moment...

I want to take advantage of this moment

to ask the troupe here united

for an extra share of the profits

in addition to those I now receive.

It's not for me.

It's for me!

It's for my wife,

in the event that I should marry.

I would like to remind the company

of costumes I lent to The Illustrious Theater.

I've never been paid for them.

I claim for that debt today.

- After 20 years? - After 20 years I need money.

What could these rags have been worth?

100 pounds.

Are you joking?

Do I look like I'm joking?

This troupe was never The Illustrious Theater.

You were!

3 torn dresses...

and 2 rusty breastplates.

That was enough for you then.

You'll have to wait.

We don't have the money now.

I'd like it as soon as possible, or else...

Or else?

I'll send for the bailiff.

For 100 pounds!

Want me to raise the price?

Take back your costumes.

I don't need them any more.

I give them back to you.

They're worn out.

After 20 years...

haven't you got enough put away?

I'm insatiable, you know that.

You'll have to wait.

I have other worries at the moment.

I'm not waiting for anything.

By the authority of the Church we command all here,

under threat of excommunication,

to speak out now

if you know of any impediment

to this marriage

about to be celebrated.

Lord, bless this coin as a token

of the marriage settlement for the bride.

And to ensure that she is worth of it,

endow her with divine wisdom.

Do you, Françoise Jeanne Marie,

confess, acknowledge and swear before God

in his Holy Church,

to take for your lawfully wedded husband,

Henri Edmée Louis, here present?

As your father, I order you to say yes, madame!

Ô lord shed thy bounty

on this woman, thy servant.

May she be, for her husband,

as gentle as Rachel, as wise as Rebecca,

as patient and faithful as Sarah.

What did you think of that bit of theater?

Will it inspire you as did those precious mannerisms of ours,

that you ridiculed so cruelly?

Ladies, had I but known you...

God forbid!

You are so discerning

you would have been even more cruel.

It's true

that I strive to be impartial,

to depict what I see, to say what I think.

That is very well said.

With our hearts, our minds

and our souls we applaud you.

Here is the independent author who accepts the truth

as the only limitation on his talent.

Therefore, monsieur,

your fidelity to the truth

obliges you to cast your eyes

upon events of more gravity

and more difficult to combat than our eccentricities.

Monsieur, let's be friends.

Join us in fighting fools and knaves.

School for Wives

Ballad for an old man newly wed,

who can't fulfill his connubial duties.

Love

No longer is my master

No more his serf am I

Such is my disaster

Away from love I now must fly

Fleeing ever faster

To my resting place in the sky

Madame, I am old

Madame, I am old

Don't.

It's a lovely song.

At the dance my heart kept cadence

My feet were quick

As any maiden's

Now my heart can't stand the violence

It smells of trash here. Shall we go?

Such small trash!

We're leaving.

I'm staying!

They haven't done anything to me.

Ever warm was I then

Ever seeking to quench my thirst

In that sweet fountain

I would soon be immersed

Now if the truth be told

Madame, I am cold

Madame, I am cold

Now my poor anatomy

Will not obey me

Like a relic

I am enshrined, once heroic

Now broken and melancholic

I retire to my bed

Madame, I am dead

Madame, I am dead

Thank you...

for teaching me such a lovely song.

I've learned much about the hearts of men.

I saw your play tonight... most boring!

Instead of "School for Wives"

wouldn't "School for Whores" be a more suitable title?

You laugh at the world crumbling, you scorn authority!

You mock liturgy, commandments, the Church!

But you will be a cuckold, too!

That's uncalled for, monsieur!

Let him get what he deserves! I've waited ten years.

That's enough, monsieur!

How old is your wife?

After the mother, you had to have the daughter!

Don't waste your time, monsieur.

You're still in favor but the King forgets quickly!

I'm not going home right away.

Where are you going?

You know very well, Jean-Baptiste.

Get in with me!

No!

Not this evening.

Not in front of them.

Get in... you can get out one league from here.

Have his coach follow you.

Two years later, more serious trouble for Molière

erupted in Monsieur Colbert's office.

That he is sacrilegious and abominable enough

to write such a diabolical play

hardly surprises me, for I know him.

But that the King allows it to be performed

with its derision of the Church,

its contempt

for all that is sacred and divine.

The King should order it suppressed

under pain of death.

All copies should be destroyed.

No trace of it should remain.

Thus the King

would demonstrate the nobility of his heart

and his respect for God and the Church.

Mother Church hopes that her eldest son

will take this heroic and royal action.

She awaits this revenge

against all the heresies,

from which she has suffered in silence

until today.

Exactly what is meant by

"until today"?

Nothing more than that, monsieur.

That reassures me.

I thought I detected the shadow of a threat,

which surprised me very much.

Gentlemen, I bid you good day.

You haven't replied, monsieur.

Replied regarding what subject?

Regarding "Tartuffe".

You are most solitary, my lord.

And it is most extraordinary of you

to renounce our sex.

At your age, you shun the gallantry

which is the pride of your peers.

It is not so extraordinary.

Examples can be found not far from here.

And you cannot condemn my vow never to love

without condemning your own sentiments.

There is a vast difference.

What befits one sex does not befit the other.

It is good for a woman to be insensitive

and to preserve her heart from the flame of love.

But what is virtue in her

becomes a crime in a man.

And since beauty is woman's proper estate...

if you refuse your love

you rob us all of our due homage.

You commit an offense

that all women must resent.

I do not see why women who do not wish to love

should take any interest in such offenses.

That is no excuse, my lord.

Even without wishing to love

it is always pleasant to be loved.

That is no excuse, my lord.

Even without wishing to love

it is always pleasant to be loved.

Say it again.

Again.

Even without wishing to love

it is always pleasant to be loved.

That's well-said.

Go to the end of the scene.

La Grange, you step forward.

Madame, I have intruded upon your privacy.

I must respect your love of solitude.

Let me die! I can bear no more.

This unexpected blow

has triumphed over my resolution.

The blow is surprising indeed.

I thought your stratagem had succeeded.

Next scene, as you walk out...

By what emotion unknown...

By what emotion unknown

is my stricken heart now moved?

By what disturbing secret

is my soul overcome?

Could it not be what has been said to me?

Without knowing it, could I be in love with this young prince?

I that were true, I would despair.

But it cannot be, I swear.

I know that I cannot love him.

Would I be capable of such cowardice?

I have had the world at my feet...

I have had the world at my feet

and have remained completely indifferent.

The homage and respect

failed to move me.

Now this proud disdain has conquered me.

I have spurned those who love me,

could I now love the one who spurns me?

No, no, I do not love him.

No, I do not love him!

It cannot be.

But if what I feel is not love,

what can it be?

And whence comes this poison...

And whence comes this poison

that courses through my veins,

not leaving me a moment's peace?

Out of my heart

whoever you are!

Hidden enemy

attack me openly!

Though you be the most fearsome of beasts,

I shall slay you and be done with you.

And be rid of you.

Now for Tartuffe.

I believe you are sincere, monsieur.

I'm convinced your play is not an attack on religion.

But that's what the spectators will think.

This is a time of religious foment.

There are Protestants, Jansenists, Gallicans,

Bigots, the Papal party...

Too many factions for a country like ours.

These quarrels grow more violent each day.

Soon, if we let it go on,

there won't be one truth, there will be many.

The King must not be exposed to such factionalism.

I know too well the power a play can exert.

I shall speak against you, to the King.

I cannot hide that from you.

I've kept you from your work on the King's festival.

I nearly forgot!

As of today

you can hope to have your royal stipend doubled.

I'll appeal to the King.

For your stipend?

Consider it done.

For my play.

If the King...

You're going to make us lose our theater!

I don't care.

We do!

Can't we at least change the word "Bigot"?

Bigot?

"Bigot".

Two beats.

Narrow, shallow, bellow, Boileau...

Say anything you like.

We have to cut from...

..."an admirable example and the lady is well-meaning..."

at least to the line...

..."she has made good use of her advantages."

- Why? - It describes the Queen.

Indeed it does.

This is maddening.

Cut the part about the Queen Mother.

As the scene is constructed, I can't cut anything.

Make the end funny, win your foes over.

Soften Cléante's speech.

Those few lines won't make things worse.

They make me feel better.

Orgon says:

"I do not often see him at church."

Dorine replies:

"Must he attend at your hours

"like those who come only to be seen?"

- Cut that part. - Why?

It describes the Court.

Indeed it does.

We haven't time to change everything!

I don't want to.

- Change the end. - I don't want to!

Change nothing.

Put on a different play.

I don't want to!

Then we'll be banned.

Just change the end.

Add a scene for laughs.

Have Madame Pernelle come on stage.

Write her some funny lines.

She harangues the spectators, you leave them laughing.

The way it ends now you leave them deep in tragedy.

Is that what you wanted?

Yes.

Exactly.

But double the length.

- Where is the King? - Down near the fountains.

- Candles keep going out. - Put up torches.

It's starting to rain.

It won't rain on the King's festival!

I have a problem.

The elephant won't follow the camel in your procession.

It's disrupting the order.

Tell that elephant to stop being capricious.

Threaten him... flatter him!

Will it work?

I think so, but, above all, leave me in peace

or I'll eat your elephant and you with it.

Where is the King?

He just passed on his way to the Music Court.

I beg Your Majesty to hear me out.

I designed this site

for the music of the waters.

Not for Monsieur Lully's trumpets and cymbals.

I hear bad reports on your play.

I implore Your Majesty

to judge for himself in this matter.

For it is certain, Sire,

that I must forget about writing plays

if the Tartuffes have the advantage.

They will persecute me more than ever

and will find fault

with my most innocent phrases.

I hear you.

Listen to the music of the waters proposed by my architect.

Monsieur Lully, kindly silence your trumpets and tympani.

Monsieur, my brother, what do you think?

Sire, I think...

I think, Sire,

that a King favored by heaven and earth

is the sole arbiter possible in this dispute

between Nature and the Muses.

Then we shall favor the Muses.

We wish you and Monsieur Molière

to collaborate on an entertainment as soon as possible.

And for my play, Sire, what may I expect?

Have no fear.

We admire your talent, monsieur.

Those men

whose very souls know where their interest lies

make of devotion both profession and merchandise.

They try to buy credit and dignity

with false smiles

and prating of divinity.

Those men, I saw,

are to be seen ardently preaching each day

eagerly pointing out heaven's way,

yet somehow making their fortunes all the while.

Living in style,

they continue to exhort

others to flee the world while they remain at Court.

They know how to adjust their smiles and vices.

Vindictive and full of malice.

They have no faith except in artifice.

Here he comes!

Out, impure spirit!

Leave this creature of God.

Penetrate no further!

Damned spirit,

enemy of the human race, attendant of death...

Take pity

on a poor beggar, monsieur.

Alms for the love of God.

Instigator of hate,

lying beast...

Beware of him

who was sacrificed with Isaac,

hanged with Joseph,

put to death with the lamb,

crucified as man...

Do you know why I gave you alms?

For the love of God.

Imbecile!

Withdraw

before the power of Our Lord Jesus Christ,

who shall judge the living and the dead

and the world, by God's fire.

Amen!

I have read

the reports you sent me

regarding the troubles beginning

to take place in my provinces.

I shall be in Saint Germain on Monday

and at the Finance Council meeting on Tuesday.

We shall see what action should be taken.

But, in advance...

I will tell you my thoughts.

We must not permit any activity

against my authority

to go unpunished.

How tall

How noble

This proud conqueror

His visage dazzles

None could be fairer

And though by his position

He already ranks high in grace

Something still more

Shines in his face

Versailles was being built

and for the King's festiva/

the Republic of Venice sent some gifts.

It is only fitting

that the music of the greatest King in the universe

should be the greatest music in the world.

If Your Majesty so wishes

he shall rule over music,

as he does over this world.

Entrust me with this task

and not one note, not one sound,

not one voice will be raised in this empire

that does not sing the glory of Louis.

I need austerity, not domestic society.

Our profession, our situation

run counter to my deepest sentiments

and to the mood I am in now.

What I seek

is a certain philosophical detachment.

Everything keeps me from it,

my wife, my troupe,

the service of the King.

Too many friends have betrayed us...

Racine... Lully...

The King himself

will soon abandon me to my fate.

I miss the Dufresnes.

And the strange death of Thérèse affected me.

La Grange,

I want to go away.

I want to leave you all.

You can run the theater. Armande will help you.

If you need an author, there are plenty of them.

More than ever!

What do you say?

You must let me leave.

I'm old.

I'm old and I'm tired.

I have such a great need for solitude.

What are you thinking?

I was listening to you, monsieur.

And thinking George Dandin isn't drawing well any more.

We need a new play.

Yes, that's true.

I've started one about a miser.

I'll have to hurry and finish it.

May I see you for a minute?

Come close.

George Dandin isn't drawing well any more.

We need a new play.

Is your work going well?

How is your invalid doing?

I can't write anything.

I've dried up.

I'm empty.

I scribble, I scrawl...

I write gibberish.

By the end of Act I, I'm written out.

I can't get the scene between Toinette and the invalid.

Want to know the truth?

I'm a plagiarist.

I've never created anything.

Even if I were capable of it, everything stops me.

Constraints.

Lack of time.

I've stolen from Plautus, Terence,

Italians, Spaniards

and Greeks.

And I'm stuck on a simple scene between a servant and her master.

You're in real trouble, my poor friend.

Why not use the same scene for Toinette and Argan

as you did for Scapin and Argante?

Why not?

What would people say?

Don't worry about that.

I can't even remember it.

I can.

"I'm sure he won't do it."

Change "he" to "she" and you've got your scene.

- "I'll force her to!" - "I say she won't do it."

"He'll do it or I'll disinherit him!"

No. Stop and think!

"She'll do it or I'll put her in a convent!"

"You?"

- "Me!" - "Good!"

"What's good?"

We can cut out the "you, me etc..."

Why?

It's very good. That's what keeps the scene moving.

- Word for word? - Word for word.

"You wouldn't put her in a convent!"

"I wouldn't put her in a convent?"

"That's ridiculous!"

"I wouldn't disinherit my..."

"I wouldn't put my daughter in a convent..."

"...if I want to?"

- You're adding that? - Yes.

Good. "No, I say!"

- "Who'll stop me?" - "Yourself!"

- "Me?" - "You won't have the heart."

"I will."

"Paternal affection won't let you."

Change that to: "Paternal affection will stop you."

"Paternal affection will stop you."

"It won't stop me!"

Now there...

You can improve on Scapin saying, "Yes, yes."

You're shameless.

What will people say?

They'll laugh.

They won't notice anything.

You've tired me.

We had some good times together.

Yes.

Thank you.

See you tomorrow.

She left me alone, a poor invalid.

The bell isn't loud enough.

We're ready.

Let's go.

Curtain!

How was it?

Splendid.

I'm cold, I want to go home.

A doctor, quick! He needs a doctor!

Tell me...

where's Madeleine?

He's dying! Faster! He's dying!

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