All language subtitles for marianne.and.leonard.words.of.love.2019.dvdrip.x264-lpd-eng

NEWSREADER:
The woman who inspired

the songwriter and poet
Leonard Cohen

to write some of his
best known work has died.

So Long, Marianne
and Bird on the Wire

were written decades ago

for Cohen's then lover
and muse, Marianne Ihlen.

They split up,

but when Marianne grew ill
and near
death with leukemia,

her close friend
Jan Christian Mollestad

contacted Leonard Cohen.

Less than two hours later,

a message came back,
which Jan read to her.

MOLLESTAD:
(ON RECORDING)
"Dearest Marianne."

"I'm just a little behind you.

"Close enough
to take your hand.

"I've never forgotten
your love
and your beauty,

"but you know that.

"I don't have to say more.

"Well, safe travels,
old friend.

"See you down the road.

"Endless love and gratitude,
your Leonard."

I wrote this for Marianne.

I hope she's here.
Maybe she's here.

I hope she's here.

Marianne.

This song is called
So Long, Marianne.

And a girl called Marianne
that I know very well,

she came to me after I sang it
for her first and she said...

She's a Norwegian.
She said, uh,

“I'm certainly glad that song
wasn't written for me."

I said, "Oh, uh, yeah?"

And she said, "Yeah,
‘cause
my name is Marianne."

NICK BROOMFIELD:
This is Marianne,

filmed on the island of Hydra
in
the early '60s.

She said the song
So Long, Marianne

was originally called
Come On, Marianne,

and was not her favorite song.

She said it was not originally
intended as a goodbye,

but came, in actuality,
to foreshadow the end

of Marianne and Leonard's
relationship as lovers.

This is Little Axel,
Marianne's seven-year-old son.

LITTLE AXEL: Film it.

LEONARD: It looks like
some kind of a lobster.

It has
all kinds of openers in there.

BROOMFIELD: It was the '60s,

and the time of free love
and open marriage,

including Leonard
and Marianne's.

I was a rather lost
20-year-old,

visiting the island of Hydra

when Marianne befriended me.

For a short while,
I became one of her lovers.

She encouraged me
to follow my dreams

and she played me
Leonard's songs

under the Greek moon
and stars.

Her smile and enthusiasm
were one of a kind.

And I felt
completely intoxicated

by the beauty
of their relationship.

LEONARD: I just left one day.

And, uh, I won a prize
for a book
that I wrote.

And they gave me some money,

and I got on a plane
and I came,

eventually to Greece
and got on a boat.

And I just saw this island

that was so beautiful,
you know?

I come from a country

that's covered with snow
half the year.

And I saw this island,
you know,

completely shining.

I just got off,
met a girl there,

and I stayed.

There were jus t
a few foreigners there

in those days.

And the Johnstons
were central figures.

They were older,

they were doing
what we all wanted
to do,

which was to write and to make
a living out of writing.

And they were there

and they were very wonderful,

colorful, hospitable people,

and they helped me settle in.

They really helped me out.

NANCY BACAL: That was first
what made him an outcast

in Montreal.

It was the journey
into the dark,

because nobody
wanted to go there.

And I remember my mother

writing me some
horrible things
about him.

He knew the dark.
He knew the struggle

from moment to moment.

You were supposed to
find a mate

and get married
and live in Westmount.

They all stayed in Westmount.

So, we left.

We had our own way of being.

We found our own lives,

but they turned out
to be synchronistic.

Can I have a sip?

LITTLE AXEL: You'll have to
even all of them.

LEONARD: The days were
very,
very ordinary.

We'd get up early
and have breakfast

and I'd go to work.

And the sandwich
would be brought to me.

I think I was on speed, too,
so I wasn't eating very much.

And the day
would proceed like that.

I'had a quota, I think
it was three
pages a day.

MOLLESTAD: She was beautiful.

But she didn't really
enjoy being beautiful

before she met Leonard
and he made her love living.

She felt that
not only did Leonard
see her

but he really loved her.

And he really
made her feel beautiful.

I think if you should
really understand Marianne,

you have to understand
her first husband Axel.

Axel could get so angry.

So he would throw out

the furniture from the window
and outin the street.

I don't think he ever hit her.

But he was violent.

Leonard was the one
who came
into Marianne's life,

who had watched

the relationship
breaking down.

Leonard saved her life

and he went into
a kind of role

as a kind of helping hand.

He helped with Little Axel

and he helped her with
talking
and practical things.

He was the father
in areal sense.

And Little Axel
still is talking about

Leonard as a very good force.

JEFFREY BROWN:
He's a very smart kid.

He was very quiet,

maybe a bit shy, even.

Axel and I would just...

We would roam the hills.
We would find fossils and...

HELLE GOLDMAN: I lived there

from the time
that I was three
months old.

And we used to
run around barefoot,

through the slightly
powdery feeling

of the dried seawater
on the stones.

Every part of it is beautiful
in every season.

Any time of the day or night.

The freshly baked bread
and things like that.

I mean, I've never experienced
those things anywhere else.

Even the air has a kind of...

You can sort of feel the air,
especially in the evening.

It feels like,
sort of silky...

You're wrapped in something
silky and velvety.

There was
so much freedom there

that people just went
too far with it.

So there was always that
danger
hanging over people.

BROOMFIELD: I was mesmerized
by the island's beauty,

and had never before met
so many golden,

sun-kissed people
of either sex

having so much fun together.

It felt like
a nything was possible.

Marianne gave me
my first acid trip,

which she said had come
from a friend
of Leonard's

in London called Malcolm,

and she took these picture
s
of me the morning after.

I had no intention of leaving,

but then one of
Marianne's other lovers

unexpectedly showed up
on the island,

and I found myself
hastily boarding

the next boat back to Athens.

My enthusiasm for Hydra,
however,

remained undiminished.

I suggested to Rick,
my best friend
from school,

that he go there as a break

from a hectic career
as a journalist.

Rick intended to go
for two weeks,

but ended up
staying for 14 years.

I came to Hydra,
which he recommended,

and suddenly this enormous
sense of relief,

because it was a combination,
I think, of beauty,

the beauty of the place,
the simplicity of the place,

and the genuineness
of the
environment there.

It was just a small group
of artists

who were either refugees
of some
kind or another,

and you could live
so cheaply then.

Leonard didn't have
much money
back then.

And there was this
sort of unwritten
rule,

certainly back when I was
first on Hydra,

that if you saw someone like Leonard
at a table,

then you didn't assume
you could
go and sit with him.

They were there to be alone
and to remain alone,

and they were
doing their writing.

LEONARD: A large part
of my life
was escaping,

whatever it was.

Even if the situation
looked good

I had to escape,

because it didn't look
good to me.

So it was a selfish life
and, uh...

But it didn't seem
so at the time.

It just seemed
a matter of survival.

And I guess the kids suffered

and people
close to me suffered

because I was always leaving.

I was always trying
to get away.

I was very much encouraged
by a friend of mine,

by the name of Irving Layton,
influenced by his manner.

After he'd ask me
what I'm doing,

he'd always say,

"Leonard, are you sure
you're doing
the wrong thing?"

And that really struck home.
That really sounded right.

And Cohen's concern

is my renunciation
of the Canadian
public.

HOST: Is this true,

or have you some other
concern, Mr. Cohen,

that you'd like to get off
your chest right now?

LEONARD: When I get up
in the morning,

my real concern

is to discover whether or not
I'm in a state of grace.

BROOMFIELD: What do you think

Leonard loved so much
about Irving?

AVIVA LAYTON:
He loved his intellect,

he loved his imagination,
and he felt that

Irving was the real thing,
in terms of poetry.

And the very first time
I saw Leonard,
Irving said,

“I'm gonna ask this man
to come around...

"this boy-man to..." He was...

I think he was 19, 20.

And I said, "Who is he?"

And he said,
"He's the real thing."

They each thought of
each other
as the real thing.

They also had a very strong
Jewish connection.

That was a very strong thing
in Irving's life.

A very strong thing
in Leonard's life.

Leonard was
an aristocratic Jew.

Leonard came
from a wealthy family,

very well-rooted
in Canadian culture.

He came
from an educated family...

Highly educated family.

I never knew Leonard's father,
of course,

who died
when Leonard was young.

But his mother, Masha,

was as mad as a hatter.

Really mad.

She had a thing about Irving.

I wouldn't be
at all surprised,

Leonard and I
would laugh about it,

whether Irving and Masha ever
actually went to bed together.

He went to bed with...

Irving went to bed
with everybody,

why not Leonard's mother?
I mean...

And she was ma...

She was very attracted
to Irving.

And Irving might have...
She was very beautiful,

but mad.

I think

really great writers
have to have mad,

oedipally mad mothers.

And if that's the case,
then that's what he had.

LEONARD: I mean, I know that

a lot of my love of music
comes from my mother,

who had a lovely voice.

She was Russian and she sang
songs around the house.

And I know that those changes,
those melodies

touched me very much.

And that's certainly
an influence.

She would sing with us.

I'd take my guitar to
a restaurant
with my friends.

And my mother would come
and
we'd often sing all night.

WOMAN: Yeah,
very good coffee...

MAN: The plague of all things.

LEONARD: Are you having fun?

Okay.

We're winning. We're winning.

We're winning
the internal battle.

We're keeping the party going.

We're keeping the party going.

BACAL: He loved women,

no question about it.

But he needed to be
his own
person in his own way.

So he could love women
from a distance,

and love them when they came
through and make them...

He could make women feel
good about themselves.

And that's how he loved them.

That's how he loved them.

But he couldn't
give himself to them,

because he couldn't
give himself away.

MARIANNE: I was not satisfied
with my life at all.

I didn't know what to do.

I was the only one who
didn't paint,
write, sculpt.

So everybody was artists.

Lots of people
came off
the boat to Hydra.

Jacqueline Kennedy was there.

Princess Margaret was there.

So what could I say?

So finally, I would say,

"I am an artist.

"Life is an art. I'm living."

Not very original.

I was looking at myself
and saying,

"Oh, everything is wrong
with me,"
you know? So...

It's a pity.

BROOMFIELD: Marianne had been
the one
to support Leonard

through the nightmare
of writing
his last novel,

Beautiful Losers, on Hydra.

LEONARD: I wrote
a lot of books there

and a lot of songs.

I published the novel
Beautiful Losers,

but I really couldn't
pay the rent.

LAYTON: Oh, yeah,
he went quite crazy.

I mean, you'd have to be crazy

to write Beautiful Losers,
it's like...

It's like
a hallucinogenic madness.

He used to stay out there
under that hot Greek sun.

And Marianne would make him

little baskets
of food and water

and drop them over to him.

I mean, he wrote that book
in a fever.

So he would never
have been able
to do that

anywhere else
except on that island.

VICK: Leonard had
always used acid.

It just gave you
that extra whoosh.

It was never just like taking
it to get out of oneself.

It was very much to do with
part of the spiritual search.

And it allowed him to go
into
his madness, I think,

which he probably couldn't
have
done anywhere else.

It allowed him to sit
in his terrace,

in the sun, take acid,

and speed.

Marianne, I mean,
she used to say,

I mean, you know,
she was there
to sort of...

Not pick up the pieces,
but to sort of,

to hold the man
that had driven himself

to the Beautiful Losers,

and writing those
extraordinary pages

day after day,

in the sun,
lunatic that he was.

LEONARD: To find
something that really

addresses my attention,

I have to do
a lot of endless versions.

Anything I can bring to it,
I try everything.

Try to ignore it.
Try to address it.

Try to get high.

Try to get intoxicated.
Try to get sober.

You know? All the versions
of myself
that I can summon

are summoned to participate
in this workforce.

So, I try everything.
I'll do anything.

But listen to what
some of the critics

said about his latest book.

NEWSREADER: "I have just read

"Leonard Cohen's new novel
Beautiful Losers

"and I've had to wash
my mind."

"This is, among other things,

"the most revolting book
ever
written in Canada."

"Verbal masturbation.”

LEONARD: After I finished
Beautiful Losers,

I thought that I would
go into music.

I wasn't really making
a living as a writer.

It was very hard to support

and feed the hungry mouths
that I was obliged to do.

So I came back to America

and I didn't know what had
been
happening in New York

and in folk music.

I was completely unaware

of people like Phil Ochs,
or Dylan,
or Joan Baez.

JUDY COLLINS:
Leonard found me.

And he came to my apartment.

And he came in
and we had some coffee.

And I said, "So?"
And he said, "Well,

"I can't sing.

"And I can't play the guitar.

"And I don't know
if this is a song."

And then he played me...

So I said,
"Leonard, that is a song.

"That's a song and I have to
record that immediately."

So he and I... Of course,
I recorded it right away.

We became friends.

He was quite clear

that he never, ever
wanted
to sing in public.

So about a year went by

and Suzanne was
a big song by then.

And I was doing a big
fundraiser in New York

and I said,
"You have to come with me.

"I wanna put you on stage

"and I want you
to sing Suzanne.

"Everybody is dying
to hear
you sing this song."

He said, "I can't sing.
I have a horrible voice."

I said, "You don't have
a horrible voice."

So he came out and he stood
in the middle there

and he began singing the song.

And I knew that he was
shaking like a leaf,

because I had seen him,
seen his hands on the guitar.

In the middle of Suzanne,
he broke down and began to sob

and walked off the stage.

He was dying of fear.

He was having
what we know as a great,

massive attack
of stage fright.

So he came off the stage
and I said,

"Leonard,
this just will not do.

"You have to go back.
I'll go back with you.

"And we can do the song
together."
He said...

Finally he said okay.

So meantime,
the whole audience

is continuing to clap and scream

and carry on,
because they'd
gotten a taste.

They could hear him sing.
They knew.

So we went out together.
He finished the song.

And by the time we finished,
he was a convert.

Total convert
to his own magical
impression.

I would like to introduce
to you,
Mr. Leonard Cohen.

COLLINS: It was one of
the most important moments

of his life and mine.

And of course,
then he was off
to the races.

Columbia signed him up
and it was
his label forever.

LEONARD: I remember her
arriving
at the airport.

She had two heavy valises
in each hand.

She couldn't wave to me

because she couldn't
lift the suitcases up,

and she didn't wanna
drop them,
she was moving.

So she waved to me
with her foot.

I remember that
very, very clearly.

LAYTON: Yeah, boy.
That was a mistake.

You know and said famously...

You know,
the famous thing...

"I want my woman."
I mean,
that was Leonard, yeah?

“I want my woman and my child
to come to Montreal."

And that was
this wonderful thing.

And of course, the minute
he said it,
he didn't...

He wouldn't have... He didn't
need it anymore.

He needed to say it, but...

And Marianne, who was
deeply
in love with him,

did come
and brought Little Axel.

We always used to call him
Little Axel.

And it was a disaster.

It was very unhappy.
Very unhappy time.

Axel would come
and stay with us.

He used to take a pencil

and pencil his name

over every wall
in our apartment.

He'd write,
"Axel, Axel, Axel "

That was a very unhappy time.

Poets do not make
great husbands,
do they?

Do you know the poet

who's ever made an absolutely
splendid husband?

Or a filmmaker? Or an artist?

No, you can't own them.

You can't even own
a bit of them.

They're just elusive creatures

who are married to their...

To their muse.

That sounds so pretentious
to say that, but it's true.

But the irony is
a man like that

is a man who other...

That every woman wants to have

and can't have.

COLLINS: Marianne came up
to me
and she said,

"We were very happy
living in Hydra.

"And we were
walking on the beach,

"and we were
swimming in the nude

"and drinking
a lot of red sena,

"and we were very happy.

"And then one day he came
to me and he said,

“Marianne,
I'm going to New York

"to play my songs
for Judy Collins.'

"And you recorded
all of his songs.

"And I just wanted to tell you
t
hat you ruined my life."

Certainly,
their dream life in Hydra

had a big interruption,
which was that

Leonard discovered himself
as a singer.

BROOMFIELD: I took
this picture
of Marianne

in the autumn of 1968,

when she came to the UK
and contacted me.

She had come to bring
Little Axel
to boarding school

and needed a lift.

We drove down to Suffolk
to Summerhill,

the A.S. Neill School,

where children didn't
have
to attend class

if they didn't want to.

Axel was eight

and I remember how upset
he was
when we drove away.

Axel would write to Marianne
nearly every day.

Marianne was in tears, too,

but believed it was
the best thing for him,

because she was
always traveling.

Marianne came
and stayed for a while

in my less than chic squat
in Kentish Town

where she took this photo.

She introduced me to the world
of protest movements

and artists using their art
to achieve incredible things.

She was close to Julie Felix,
the singer,

an old friend of hers
and Leonard's,

and working with Julie
as her muse,

encouraging her
to write her own songs

for the very first ime.

Julie had originally
met Leonard
on Hydra

before either of them
were singers.

Well, I'm very happy and proud
to have him here on the show

and introduce him
to the English public.

Here is the writer, the poet,
the songwriter...

He's a friend, but he says
he's a stranger in this song.

Ladies and gentlemen,
Leonard Cohen.

FELIX: Leonard was
always searching.

And this feeling of never
belonging anywhere...

And even in a relationship,
you know,

eventually with Marianne...

I think that was
the longest really.

But after that, he went from
relationship to relationship.

And at the end of the song,

there was a tear in his eye.

He was an emotional man.

Yeah, well, at that time,

they were already having
a few problems.

Marianne and I
hung out together

for quite a while
and we became
very close.

And we went on a couple
of trips together,

and she was the muse and said,
you know, why don't you write?

And the first song I wrote
was Windy Morning,

which was a song that
she kind of
guided me through.

BROOMFIELD: She was
a great muse,
wasn't she?

Absolutely. Absolutely.
And, uh...

I think Leonard honored that,
you know?

He said that she was,
you know?

When, um...
When he was speaking of her.

BROOMFIELD:
But she was so encouraging.

Yeah, and she was
so nurturing,
you know,

it's, uh...

Yeah. It's, you know...

Woman power.

The ability
to nurture and love and...

Encourage, you know?

It's something
the world needs.

That's why I think it's good

that we're getting
to women's
time finally,

with all the Time's Up.

And Leonard was a great, uh...

Was a feminist, you know?

He really...

He said to me once...

Because I was
talking about something,

he said, "I can't wait
until
women take over."

So that was kind of nice
to hear from him.

JOHN SIMON: Leonard's imagery
came from the poets,

from Shakespeare, from Keats,
from Marlowe.

So I found certain lines
in his guitar playing

that I could enrich.

And I decided not to do it
with instruments,

but to do i t
with female voices,

since so much of his writing

was about his relationships
with women.

There was a very female
presence
in all of his songs,

even though he was a man.

So my girlfriend at the time
had a very nice,

pure, soprano voice.

And so I started, you know,
fooling around asking her,

"Sing this over
Leonard's song.

"What do you think?"

And some of it
sounded really great.

BROOMFIELD: You can't sort of
imitate it slightly?

I'm not a singer,

and I'm not a girl either.
She was singing...

She added a little "...anne"
at the top.

So she sort of aped
what he was doing,

but it gave it
a little harder...

Put a litle harder edge
on it, you know?

The very first time
I met Leonard Cohen,

he opened the door
and he's just

absolutely naked
as a jay bird, right?

So me, coming out of
where
I come out of, I go,

"This is pretty damn weird,"
you know?

Later, of course,

throughout the time
I spent with Leonard,

the years
that we worked together,

when I look back on all that,

and if I'd have been evolved
enough at that moment

it wouldn't have been
weird to
me at all.

All the time I knew Leonard,

he was very,
very conscious of his body.

Leonard used to say that
when we're on tour,

we're at the hotel,

"Take all your clothes off."

You're going to be passing by

these things
called mirrors, right?

And when you pass by a mirror,

you're gonna notice
that little,

"Hey, I need to be doing
a few more sit-ups.”

Leonard swam, like,
all the time.

Any hotel we were in,

you would find, if they
had a pool,
he was in it.

And he would get up
early in the morning,

so he didn't have to
run into anybody.

He'd be down there
at 5:00 in the morning

and he'd be doing laps.

And if they would
let him swim nude,

he would swim nude.

I don't know why.

That was just him.

BROOMFIELD: Didn't you write
a song with him?

CORNELIUS: I did. Yeah.

I wrote the Chelsea Hotel
with him.

We boarded an airplane
in LaGuardia

and me and Leonard sat there

and worked on this song.

I'had no idea
who he was talking to

in his writing at the time.

It came out later that it was
to Janis Joplin.

And, you know, it's like,

"I remember you well
at
the Chelsea Hotel.

"Talking so brave
and so sweet,

"giving me head
on the unmade bed,

"while the limousines wait
in the street.”

That's all still there.

Nobody knows that
the second verse was,

"I remember you well
at the Chelsea Hotel

"in the winter of 1967.

"My friends of that year,

"they were all turning queer,

"and me,
I was just getting even."

MOLLESTAD: At that time,

Leonard had some experiences
with Janis Joplin,

all these things.

And Marianne
was living separately

in her apartment
with Little Axel.

That must been

very strange.

But she was still the muse.

And the interesting thing
is that,

she has read for me
the telegrams

from Leonard.

First telegrams to

"Marianne Cohen,"

was just like
they have been married.

Telegrams going to Hydra

and then to London
and then to New York.

First it's in the period

when they are together
as a couple.

But the beautiful thing is,

when they're not
a couple anymore,

he still sends money,

he's still asking
how Axel is doing,

and so he continues
to send his small

love messages,

even if they're not together.

CORNELIUS: Leonard said he was
suffering from depression

that he fought
for so many years.

So Leonard decided,
he thought,
well, it'd be

a nice thing for us to do
is
that we blow in...

Say we blew into London
to play
the Royal Albert Hall.

Well, we got
three or four days here,

why don't we, one evening,
go out and play

at a mental institution,
right?

Okay, so of course,
that went over

like a fart
in a diver's helmet
with me,

because I wasn't
about to go

out to any...

I was not going. No way.

He said, you know,
"Just go one time."

He said, "If you go one time
and don't wanna play any more,

"any more of these,

"then you don't have
to do it." Right?

So I said, "Okay." So I went.

Well, I'm gonna tell you this.

By the time
that night was over,

you couldn't drive me away
from that idea.

And we ended up playing
alot of 'em.

You know, he had a grandfather
or something like that,

that I think died
in one of those
institutions.

LEONARD:
There are a number of reasons

why I played mental hospitals.

You know, when you play
for somebody

who has really been defeated,

and it was my feeling
that the elements

of this defeat corresponded
with certain elements

that produced my song,

and that there would be
an empathy.

I mean, I feel
that I also have

an empathy
with this experience.

CORNELIUS:
That was a moment in my life

that I would never forget.

And this guy, he stands up
and starts screaming,

you know, to, "Hey,
shut it down.
Stop. Shut it."

Well, we, you know,
being musicians
and being...

Have played a million shows,

we steamed right on, right?
We're not gonna let that...

Well, no.
This guy shut it down.

He shut it down.

And then,
Leonard finally said,

"Okay, you talk then," right?

So this guy said,
"Look," he said,

"You come in here

"and you got
all these shiny guitars

"and you got
the pretty girls there

"singing background and stuff.

"And everything like..."
He said,
"I wanna know,

"what do you think about me?

"That's what
I wanna know about.

"I wanna know
what you think about me."

You could hear a pin drop
in that place.

And Leonard just walked
past me and Charlie,

walked down the stairs,
walked right out in the crowd

and just hugged him like
you wouldn't
have believed.

He almost broke his ribs,
he hugged him that hard.

LEONARD: I came to see you,
because it's...

-You don't sing anymore?
-LEONARD: Pardon?

Qut somewhere?

LEONARD:
Well, we go to Geneva.

- No, I mean now.
- Now? No.

- Why are you...
- Qut tonight.

Would you like to listen?

Yes. Yeah.

Um, I don't have
any plans, but...

You don't have any place?

No, I don't have any place.

- Do you have somewhere for me?
- Yes, a lot.

Okay.

It's hard to come onto a girl
in front of the camera.

“What?

LEONARD: I was obsessed
by gaining
women's favors

at a certain point in my life.

And, um, way beyond

any reasonable activity.

It became the most
important
thing in my life

and it led me into
very obsessive behavior

and some
very interesting things.

And probably most
of the things I learned

about myself and about
other people
were gained

from this period of obsessive,
this blue movie

that I threw myself into.

But we know that blue movies
are not romantic.

BILLY DONOVAN: It was a show.
It was more women than men.

It was like,
you'd look out there

and there was some couples
and it was mostly just women.

They read his poetry, right?

And then they see him
sing these songs

and they're all just down
there
crying and all that.

But watching him.

There was no problem
with women.

You know,
I'll tell you a funny story.

One day, I'm down in the lobby
in the Mayfair Hotel,

and he comes walking in

out of a cab with this really
nice-looking woman.

And they disappear,
come down
a couple hours later

and they're having drinks
in the lobby,

this bar there.

And she leaves, and then
he makes a phone call.

About half hour later
he comes back

with a different woman.
And they go up.

They're gone. This is in
one afternoon.

How are you?

DONOVAN: He had to have
a woman all the time.

This guy traveled the world.
He knew women and people,

and Paris and London,
and all those places, right?

He'd go, "Oh, well let me just
call so-and-so."

Yeah, there was
no problem there.

In fact, everybody was doing
pretty good, even me.

Oh, yeah.

LEONARD:
I had a great appetite

for the company of women

and for the sexual expression
of friendship.

And I was very fortunate,
because it was the '60s.

And that possibility
was very,
very present.

And for a tiny moment
in social history,

there was
a tremendous cooperation

between men and women
about
that particular item.

And so, I was very lucky
that
my appetite coincided

with this very rare...

What, religious, social...

I don't know
what you'd call it.

Some kind of phenomen on,
you know,
that allowed

men and women, boys and girls,
we were, to come together

in that kind of union that
satisfied
both the appetites.

MARIANNE: I felt much more
that Bird on the Wire

had something to do with me,
because I was there.

When you see it in the light
of how it began,

it was when the new
electricity
came to Hydra.

I gave him a guitar.
We looked out
of the window,

we saw the birds
landing on the wires,

and he had not been able
to create,
or write, or sing,

or do anything for weeks.

And he was in a very,
very deep,
deep depression.

And it also was a period
in my
life where I had to

make a decision
that was pretty hard.

And that was following
my intuition

and decided that Leonard and
I
was not going to have

any children together.

Yeah.

BROOMFIELD: Marianne came
and
visited me in Cardiff,

where I was a student
living down
by the docks.

I was concerned
she might get bored,

but Marianne was naturally
interested in everyone.

She regarded
being receptive and open

as the highest of qualities.

Marianne made friends with
all
the kids in the street

who followed her
around all day.

And she encouraged me
to make
my very first film

on slum clearance,

as the whole community
was being torn down.

Marianne liked to throw

the I Ching every day
and get stoned.

She talked
about Leonard a lot.

His favorite salt beef
sandwich
shop in Piccadilly.

His spiritual search,

even dabbling in Scientology
and EST.

Marianne, too, was on her
own spiritual search.

And Leonard was,
in many ways,
her teacher.

One day she asked me
to drive
her to Bath.

She said she was pregnant
with Leonard's child.

I think she was pregnant,

but she knew that Leonard
didn't want children

and she had abortions
even though she would have...

If any one should have
had Leonard's children,

she deserved to have them.

But she didn't,
for Leonard's sake.

But, you know,
she wanted what I wanted.

She wanted to be with him.

And you cannot be
with Leonard,

in that sense.

Although, you could say
that
I'd rather have one day

or one night with Leonard,

than a lifetime
with somebody else.

That would be easy to say,

but it's not so easy,
you know?

I could have said that
with Irving,
just to be...

I was with Irving
for over 20 years.

Whatever the ups and downs,

how wonderful it was,
and it was.

But most of that time
was anguish.

- You can't...
- Anguish?

Well, you know, was the days
of open marriage,

whatever the hell that was.
And I don't think

it ever was successful
with anybody.

One of the partners
was always jealous,

and angry, and hurt,
and confused.

I don't know any child
who came
out of it

not damaged by that period.

We just wanted to do it all.

Take drugs and fuck around
and do whatever we...

And the children were just...
They came along on the ride.

They didn't wanna come along
on that ride.

BROWN: There are a lot of us

who grew up very quickly
on the island.

There was also a lot of acid
on the island.

Like, people were actually
dropping acid

into people's drinks.

And I remember hearing

reports of people
having donkeys.

They were riding donkeys that,
like, started tripping

and getting into all kinds
of trouble, you know,

and accidents, riding...

BROOMFIELD: They'd give acid
t
o the donkeys?

BROWN: Yeah,
as well as to people.

I got... Someone
put acid in one
of my drinks

when I was about 13.

And I had no idea
what was happening.

Also, a lot
of casualties happened.

I think Marianne
and a lot
of other women

were not as nurturing
to their children, perhaps,

or as present with them
as
they could have been.

Axel was really
a casualty of that.

Marianne was going

from one love,
to another, to another.

And often he wasn't with her.
You know, so who was he with?

And Leonard, you know,
he wasn't Leonard's kid.

He started wearing long,

you know,
flowing Moroccan robes.

And he was silent for years.

And then, later
he became
institutionalized.

But I've always felt very sad
that he's been, you know,

institutionalized for most
of his adult life.

Those who could work
with Hydra
did really well.

And there weren't many,
quite frankly.

I saw so many artists who came
and either just

found their creativity just
wasn't strong enough

to sustain them,
or the booze, the sex,

the beauty of the landscape
was all too much

and they just gave up.

But Leonard was one of those

who somehow,
the whole environment,

I think, sort of coalesced
and worked for him

and he worked with it.

still,
we didn't plan it.

GOLDMAN:
He was a real success story.

He really was.

He wasn't damaged by that place,
I think, at all.

Many other people
seemed to come away

from that place
sort of irreparably
damaged.

And it was terrible
on marriages.

Very few marriages
lasted that place,

including my parents.

BROOMFIELD: I remember
Marianne telling me

of the tragedy
of the Johnstons,

the family that Leonard had

originally stayed with
in 1960,

who left the island
after nine years.

GOLDMAN: This family of such
amazing talent and promise,

and they just kind of
all fell to bits

shortly after leaving
the island.

It's my birthday today

and this is
a wonderful homecoming.

And that was a photograph
of family.

One taken on my birthday
last year
on the island.

They always speak Greek
amongst themselves.

I think it comes
more naturally to them.

And they've done all their
schooling in Greece, 10 years.

GOLDMAN: When they left,
almost penniless,

she killed herself,
like,
a couple years later.

He died a year after that,

of tuberculosis, probably,

greatly compounded
by cigarettes
and alcohol.

And then the children

that seemed so,
you know, glorious,

and beautiful, and bright,
and wonderful on the island,

they one-by-one died early
of
alcoholism and suicide, drugs.

There's only one that's alive.

GEORGE SLATER:
Numerous other children

from families that have lived on Hydra

have had a hard time
re-entering
the real world.

I think there is a depression
that sets in

if you've spent
any time there.

I've certainly felt it.

There's not a day that goes by
that I don't wake up and wish

that I were there,
you know,
literally.

I never wanted to be any other
place in the world, you know.

It's just the place.

It's just the place, you know?

It gets into your bones.

I don't know
how to describe it,

but it's just the place.

Just stepping off
the boat every time,

it's coming home.

CORNELIUS: That was
a very weird,
weird night.

There was 660.000 people
out there.

It was a disturbing night.

They even caught
the stage on fire.

Had to put the stage out
before we went on.

Maybe we out to get out
of here, you know?

Somebody's gonna get hurt.

Leonard embraced it.
He got into it.

Like I was saying before,

you either get them
or you don't.

He got them.

LEONARD: Well, I was
on mandrax
at the time.

They used to call me
Captain Mandrax.

I think it had...
It was like
a Quaalude, right?

It was relaxed
beyond any reasonable
state.

I hope she's here, Marianne.

I hope she's here.
Maybe she's here.

I hope she's here.

Marianne.

CORNELIUS:
And Marianne was one woman

that didn't seem to me
all starstruck
over Leonard.

Kind of held her own,
put it that way,
you know?

She would join us some times
for a week at a time,

or maybe ten days at a time
and be gone.

There was other ladies
that Leonard
had on tour,

but when Marianne was in town,
he was out of the picture.

She carried with her
a different feel

than any woman that I ever saw
around Leonard.

There was a need
for such a connection

between Leonard
and his audience

that would actually have
blown your mind.

One night,
he had so many people

come up on stage with him

that it was
like this big love-in

right in the middle of
our concert.

Like a pile of people
making love

without taking
their clothes off,

but if we could have
stuck around
a while longer,

who knows
what would have happened.

Can you imagine,
we're playing
in Amsterdam

and he invites
the entire audience

to come home with us
to his hotel.

And they did it.

We took a lot of acid
on those trips.
A lot.

Leonard had a buddy in London.

And he had a thing
called Desert Dust.

And if you took a needle

and touched it to your tongue,

and the tiniest little speck

that you could pick up with
that needle on your tongue...

Gone.

I mean, gone for 14 hours
with no re-entry.

None.

One time we took that damn
Desert Dust 23 nights in a row

playing the Royal Albert Hall,

and the Vienna Opera House

and all the fine places
on the...

We were...
I mean, I gotta tell you,

there's no way
I could ever even
survive

one of those nights
at this point.

LEONARD:
Trying to see my text here.

Hey.

Hey!

WOMAN: That's what you
got on you, baby.

MAN: This is the way
it's gotta be done.

LEONARD: Think that stuff
still works?

MAN: I don't know.

Il be in serious trouble
if it works
or doesn't work.

CORNELIUS:
Leonard used to say,

"You have to be in the zone."

Well, we stayed in the zone.

A lot of people
would think like,

"Well, if you burn it down
really strong

"tonight, tomorrow morning,

"you got that hang over
and all that
kind of..."

Uh-uh. We stayed in the zone.

Day after day after day.

There was only one night
we were
playing in Jerusalem,

when he wasn't getting them.

Now look, uh,
if it doesn't
get any better,

well just end the concert
and
I'll refund your money.

Some nights,
one is raised
off the ground

and some nights,

you just can't get off
the ground.

And there's no point
in lying about it.

And tonight, we just haven't
been
getting off the ground.

DONOVAN: So anyway,
we're backstage

and we're going,
"Well, what's gonna happen?"

And Marty Machat, his manager
is trying to talk to him.

And Leonard's
just zinging, right?

I knew that.

And, uh...

BROOMFIELD:
How do you mean, "zinging"?

I mean, like, on LSD.

Like his eyes are blacked out,
like they get, right?

And, uh, he's just feeling...

And so all of a sudden,
he says to me...

He goes, "Billy,
can you get me a razor?"

I said, "Leonard, what are you
gonna do? Cut your throat?"

And he says,
“No, I think if I shave,

“I might be able
to go back out."

MAN: And you got... This is
the last
concert, you know?

This is something you have
to do
and then bang...

Oh, I know what I have to do.
I have to shave.

What a life.
What a life.

Oh, this is wonderful.

Why didn't you tell me
about this?

DONOVAN:
So that's what he did.

He shaved...

Dry shaved almost with just
some water.

And then he went back
out there

with a big rash on his face

and finished the show.

At least you gotta fry it,
man.
It's wonderful.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, this is really great.

CORNELIUS: Everybody was
shooting from the hip, right?

Not welded to anything.

The idea was that, tonight,
we will play this song

better than we did
last night.

And tomorrow night,

we're gonna play it better
than we did tonight.

CORNELIUS:
There was only one night...

One night that I felt like...

That I let things
get away from me.

And I actually went
for this
beautiful chord.

It was
an F-sharp minor seventh.

I think in the song
called Suzanne.

And as I went for that chord,

I actually landed on my face,
on the ground

on the stage right there.

And Leonard turned around
and looked at me like,

"Okay, all right.

"We need to now start backing
off the mandrax," right?

BROOMFIELD:
Marianne and I kept in touch

during the '70s and '80s

with the occasional postcard
and letter.

I was delighted
when she suggested

we might work together.

And we talked
about various ideas.

Marianne was increasingly
concerned about Axel.

He'd been on a trip to India
and taken too many drugs.

She was upset
with Little Axel's father,

who had encouraged him.

Axel was now living
i n an institution
in Oslo,

and Marianne was spending
more and more time with him.

Marianne had still been
following Leonard

on his travels.

And very infrequently,

they still shared the house
together on Hydra.

Apparently, Leonard was now

living part of the year
in Montreal,

with a woman called Suzanne.

JUDY SCOTT: I've read
three of his
biographies

and I've always been surprised

that they, sort of,
partition it as,
like,

"Okay, here was Marianne.
And then that was over.

"And then
he took up with Suzanne."

But in fact, there was

a considerable
overlap of time

where he supported
both families.

LAYTON: He said that
when he was
with her and Axel

in that house on Hydra,

he felt that's where
he belonged.

But when he was with Suzanne
and the baby in Montreal,

he felt
that's where he belonged.

And so he was confused.

Suzanne, she was much more
visceral in a way,

and 14 years younger
than him.

So I guess there was

a whole bunch of
different things

that conspired
to make it come to an end.

You needed somebody
like Suzanne
who was...

Well, the word "ruthless"
is just the word

that comes to mind.

And she did
what she wanted to do

to bind Leonard to her
by any means.

To use
the Black Panther theme,

"By any means necessary."

And boy, did she do...

And she knew exactly
what to do
and when to do it.

It was like
falling into a spider's web.

And there was something...

There's always something
terribly
fascinating

about the spider.

Very fascinating.

And I think
Leonard just fell into that

‘cause it was so fascinating.

I don't even know
what drove
that whole thing,

but he knew...

He knew he was...

As Irving would say,

"Make sure you're doing
the wrong thing."

Boy, did he make sure he did
the wrong thing with Suzanne.

CORNELIUS: I think
Leonard's
quest in life

overrode the normal,
you know,
settling down

and having a home,
and a family,

and all that stuff.

Leonard always had
that feeling

that he was after something

that he couldn't get
his hands around.

The only thing about his...
I don't know what he...

I don't think he knew
w hat he was
chasing, you know?

I don't think he really knew.

And that made it,
probably darker,
you know?

He lived in darkness

because he'd disappear
for six weeks sometimes.

I wouldn't know
how to find
him or nothing.

Nobody would, you know?

And it was all
a deep, deep depression.

JOHN LISSAUER:
When we toured Europe,

and when we toured Germany

I've never seen so many
blondes
in one audience.

He was the poet for

the quasi-depressed women
of his era.

People who were
going through issues,

they'd come up sobbing,
"You saved my life.

"I was in such a dark place.

"And your darkness
led me out of it."

LEONARD: Thank you so much.

He had his thing
that he projected.

He had his black suit.

He had his look
of seriousness.

And you never saw his humor.

He was a really funny guy,

but when he was on stage, it was dark,

and it was lonely,
and it was desperate.

And it's about those
who would, uh,

sacrifice one generation
on behalf
of another.

LISSAUER: I wanted to frame
each of the songs

like a little vignette.

They all had these places
of mind.

So I was giving them...

We were using
unusual instruments.

We'd use
a couple of muted trombones

to take it somewhere

or very icy strings

and dark, shimmering things
to make these little movies.

And we came back,
and we were
ready to do

another couple of weeks
in the studio.

And he said, "I'm gonna go
to
Hydra for a little bit.

"As soon as I get back,
we'll finish it."

And I didn't hear from him
for seven years.

It turns out, Marty Machat,

who was Leonard's manager
also managed Phil Spector.

And he had made a deal
for Phil
with Warner Bros.

that got them both
a huge advance.

A really huge advance.

For the '70s,
it was unheard of.

So what had happened,

Marty called up Leonard
and just said,

"Forget the record with John.

"We'll put that
on the back burner.

"We want you to do a record
with Phil Spector.

"He's really famous.
It make you a hit."

And of course he made
Death of A Ladies Man

which, you know,
is not his best work.

LEONARD: That happened
at a curious
time in my life

because I was
at a very low point.

My family was breaking up.

I was living in Los Angeles,

which was a foreign city
to me.

I'd lost control of, as I say,

of my family
and my work and my life.

And it was
a very, very dark period.

And when he got
into the studio,

it was clear
that he was eccentric,

but I didn't know that he was mad.

The atmosphere
was one of guns.

I mean, that's really what was
going on, was guns.

The music was a subsidiary.

They were armed to the teeth.

All his friends,
his bodyguards,
you know?

And everybody was drunk.

So, you know, I mean, you were
tripping over bullets.

You were biting into revolvers
in your hamburger.

I mean,
Phil was beyond control.

I remember Phil, you know,
shoved a revolver into my neck

and said, you know,
"Leonard, I love you."

And I said,
"I hope you do, Phil."

I think that if anybody,
you know,

disappointed the project,
it was me.

I didn't have the chops
to sing those songs.

I think a song like Memories
is a really dynamite tune.

I think the tune is great,
the lyric is touching,

and it really does come out
of
that high school gymnasium.

MARIANNE: One day, Suzanne,
with Little Adam,

the same age as my son
when I came
back to Hydra,

was standing on the doorway,

wondering
when I was moving out

so she could move in.

I remember that

seeing her, I somehow felt
a little bit taller,

a little bit stronger,
a little bit older

and a little bit wiser.

I got hold of something when
I saw her there with the baby.

And then I, very calmly,

packed up, took Axel

and moved out.

Yeah, so that was...

Marianne finally decided
that enough was enough

and she did have to
come back to Oslo.

And her mother had always
wanted her to come.

Wanted her to come here
and have a normal life.

Become a secretary,
receptionist,

or something like that
and be normal.

So Marianne
had finally decided,

"Yeah,
that's what I'm gonna do."

So she came back up here,
became a secretary,

married a Norwegian man,

and became the stepmother
to his children.

Had a very average,
ordinary life.

And then every once in a while
s
he would go back to Hydra,

visit her friends.

LISSAUER: Out of the blue...
And I told you I was...

I'd done Rebecca and never
heard
from Leonard again.

I thought,
"Well, I did something.

"What did I...
I did something."

He calls up and, uh,
"Hey, man. How you doing?"

1984.

"Wanna make a record?"

I'm saying,
"Yeah, I've been waiting.

"Waiting for this phone call."

So we went in the studio

and we did Hallelujah
fairly early.

And he played it for me
and it went...

He had just bought
a little
Casio synthesizer

on 7th Avenue and 49th Street.
One of these...

one finger things.

And he fell in love with it.

He said, "I wanna record this,
use it for the track."

So we put it down that way.

We're saying, "Holy crap, man.
This
is really good.

"We've done something here."

Leonard was just grinning.

Even Marty,

who was reluctant to like
anything
I was involved in,

just said, "This is it."

We bring him up to Columbia.

There's a new guy
named Walter Yetnikoff.

This was his first big thing.

He listened and he says,

"No, I don't like this
a tall"

And there's a famous quote,
you know,

"Leonard, I know you're great,

"but I don't know
if you're any good."

Something like that.

And he says,
"We're not gonna release it."

And Marty then later says,

“John, I knew it.
You ruined
Leonard's career.

"You have ruined...
This is an unreleasable record.

"It's the biggest
disappointment
in our lives.

"I can't believe
you did this
to Leonard."

And he had loved it
earlier
in the day, but...

And I'm saying,
"Well, what do you mean?"

He said, "No, they hate it.
They're not gonna release it."

At which point,
he ceremoniously

threw my contract
in the garbage.

I never got to sign it.

And he said,

"And you're not gonna be
working
for Columbia anymore."

There was
a couple other artists

I was supposed to work with.
And I was just...

That was it. I was done.

In the morning,
we thought we had this

greatest of all
Leonard Cohen records.

And by the afternoon,
I was out of the business.

It was the end of the world.

That's when the whole
Mt. Baldy
thing happened.

That's a huge phase
in Leonard's life.

I didn't see him.

I got out of
the record business

essentially because of how
this record went down.

LISSAUER: This record was
monumentally important.

It was the anthem of anthems.

But to this day,
I've yet to see
any royalties.

GOLDMAN: I think that through
all of this searching

and searching for herself

and for her identity through

all those years on Hydra
and other places,

and having had, you know,

the first husband
who was the writer

and the second husband
who was
the writer and singer,

and never really knowing
who she was,

except in comparison to them,
somehow in relation to them.

I think
it took coming back here

for her
to really find herself.

She was a really nice person.

Very kind. And very generous.

She really listened to you
when you talked.

Not a lot of people do that.

Most people
when they're
talking to you,

they're just kind of waiting

ill they can say
their next line,
you know?

But she was really interested
and she really listened,

and she really
thought about it.

She was a very generous
and kind person.

BROOMFIELD: I hadn't
visited
Hydra for 40 years.

It had changed
from the wondrous place

you could live
on a thousand
dollars a year,

to the playground
of the very rich.

One of the only survivors
of the
old Hydra is Don Lowe,

who lives up this path
in this house

without electricity
or running water.

Don prefers candles
and has a well.

Marianne introduced me to Don
in 1968.

He has since self-published
over 30 books.

Oh, there you are.

Don has lived on Hydra
for 60 years.

The last time he left
the island
was 25 years ago.

LOWE: I made this for my...

I didn't wanna get stuck

and then
got no where to live, you see.

BROOMFIELD:
Wow, it's beautiful.

I's nice, you see?
Dug it out.

BROOMFIELD: Did one of
your children
do that?

LOWE: No, I did that.

BROOMFIELD: You did that?
It's beautiful.

LOWE: That's my idea
of paradise.

You can cook here
and you can
write a book here,

if you are that way, inclined.

It's got a view of the sea
and next door.

This is where
Marianne was gonna stay,

in the house there.

BROOMFIELD: Marianne was gonna
stay where in the house?

LOWE: Just there.
You can see
it through there.

She was very nice
at the end, Marianne,

because she mellowed
and, you know...

Because it was never easy
after Leonard...

Because every time he gave
a concert or something,

she'd get caught up in it.

Every time he gave a concert,
she had an invitation.

And she was interviewed
in Norway

and things like that
and so she couldn't really...

She married
a lovely guy afterwards,

divorced him,
and married him again.

And, Jan, a very sweet man.
Norwegian.

Yeah, I got quite fond of her
at the end, Marianne.

Even when we were younger,
we lived around way.

But near the end,
she became very close.

Mmm-hmm.

LEONARD: I had some
wonderful
moments on the road.

You know,
traveling with musicians

and playing with musicians.

But by and large,
I didn't have
what it took

to really enjoy my success,
or my celebrity.

I was never able to locate it.

I was never able to use it.

Well, that's beautiful, huh?

CORNELIUS: Doing what he did
up there,
came natural to him

because of his discipline.

He became a servant
for years
and years there.

He had to get up at,
like,
3:00 in the morning.

Some of the things he told me
that they did up there,

I don't know if I could have
hung with that.

- You're a small?
- Yeah.

- Your black bag?
- Yeah.

Uh, brown bag?
What did I do with it?

I just saw...
Oh, in here, Roshi.
In here.

In here.

- Your handbag?
- Yeah.

- It's still in car?
- Yeah.

Okay.

You want to eat something,
Roshi?

- Huh?
- You want to eat something?

Yeah, now wait.

Oh, okay. Okay.

LISSAUER: Roshi was
h is spiritual advisor,

his Buddhist monk leader.

He centered him.

It was like having mom and dad
watching you if you think

because you're likely
to be
tempted to stray.

I think it was his crutch.

And it also probably increased
his focus and concentration.

LEONARD: I'm trying to learn
some things about love.

Well, love is that activity

that makes the power
of man and woman

that incorporates into your own heart,

where you can embody
man and woman,

when you can embody
Hell and Heaven,

when you can reconcile
and contain,

when man and woman becomes your content.

In other words,
when your woman

becomes your own content

and you become her content,
that's love.

And you recognize the full
equality of that exchange

because if
she's smaller than you,

she can't fill you.

And if you're larger than her,
you can'tfill her, you know?

So there has to be
an understanding

that there really is an
absolute
equality of power.

Different kinds of power.

Obviously,
different kinds of magic,

different kinds of strength,
different kinds of movement

that's as different
as night and day.

And it is night and day.

And it is
the moon and the sun.

And it is the land and the sea.

And it is plus and minus,

itis Heaven and Hell.

It is all those antonyms.

But they're all equal.

I have experienced it.
I have experienced it.

You don't have to change
the world.

There's not gonna be
any revolutions.

CORNELIUS: I'm sure
that everybody a
lready knows

about all that transpired
along the way

when he came back
down off the mountain.

He had no money, you know?

Because this person
that he had trusted...

A person that he would have

taken a bullet for, so to speak...

What he told me...

That he spent holidays
with her children

and his children,
had absolutely
sold him out.

And that it turned out

that a friendship tha t
he thought
was the real deal,

ended up
being a really bad thing.

LEONARD: Well, the money
seems
to be gone. Uh...

As far as the manager,

you know,
who was my dear friend,

I'm still rather fond of her.

But she, um...
There's been a judgment of

several million dollars
a gainst her.

But, uh, you know...
Well, that's...

She doesn't seem
to have any money to...

It's impossible to collect it.

I don't know. I guess I should
be more worried than I am,

but I'm not.

So what can I say,
you know?

CORNELIUS: All of a sudden, here he is.

He's now in his 70s
and he has
no money now.

He said to me, "All I can do

"is get out there and tour
and try
to make some money."

He said, "I don't know
if can do
it or not."

It's been a long time since
I stood on a stage in London.

Was about 14 or 15 years ago.

I was 60 years old,

just a kid with a crazy dream.

LISSAUER: Suddenly Leonard was
the hottest ticket in town

and went
from our little tour bus

with two sound engineers
and three roadies

to an entourage of 59 people
on his own jet.

LISSAUER: And he was making

upwards of $15 million
every year.

One of the top 10
grossing acts.

He went from
l iterally being wiped out

to incredible stardom.

MOLLESTAD:
It was a love story

which had the 50 chapters
without being together.

She had a compartment of her heart

which was always married
to Leonard.

That's the beauty of

Marianne's and Leonard's
history.

That they had this place
for each other

fill the very end.

And it's not the bitter end.
It was a lovely end.

It's a very beautiful end.

Suddenly, one evening,
I got an SMS saying,

"I'm at hospital.
I'm going to die.

"Please take care of

“Little Axel and Jan,
my husband."

She asked me,
"Could you tell Leonard?"

And another thing
s he said was,

"Could you bring a camera?

"Because I still feel I have
something to say."

And in the morning,

there was this lovely letter
from Leonard to Marianne.

MOLLESTAD: "Dearest Marianne.

"I'm just a little behind you.

"Close enough
to take your hand.

"This old body of mine
has given up

"as yours has, too.

"I've never forgotten
your love
and your beauty,

"but you know that.

"I don't have to say more.

"Safe travels, old friend.

"See you down the road.

"Endless love and gratitude,

"your Leonard."

And the beautiful thing
was that

this old, sick man

reached his old, sick lover

with the message

that she had always
wanted to hear.

And I think that, uh,

for Marianne, this was a ring

that started with leaving Oslo

and going into the adventure
with Axel,

and meeting Leonard,
losing Leonard,

meeting Jan,

having problems,
of course, with her son.

And then, when this
love letter
came from Leonard,

I think she felt
that it was
all completed.

So, uh,

that's what
words of love can do.

LEONARD:
Greece is a good place

to look at the moon, isn't it?

You can read by moonlight.

You can read on the terrace.

You can see a face as you
saw
it when you were young.

It was good light then.

Oil lamps and candles,

and those little lames

that floated on a cork
in olive ail.

What I loved in my old life,
I haven't forgotten.

It lives in my spine.

Marianne and the child,

the days of kindness.

It rises in my spine
and it
manifests as tears.

I pray that loving memory
exists for them, too.

The precious ones I overthrew
for an education in the world.