All language subtitles for Copying.Beethoven.2006.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]-eng

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Anna. . .

Oh, you're awake.

I was waiting for you.

The fugue, Maestro, I heard it.
I heard it just the way you do.

I knew. I hoped you would.

Rudy, get the doctor.

Calm yourself.

Morning.

The storm, I hear the storm.

He's coming for me.

Don't be frightened.

Do not weep.

- Morning.
- Yes.

Maestro?

Herr Schlemmer?

- Herr Schlemmer?
Oh, I have to pee, my dear.

I'm afraid there is a mistake.

I've come from the conservatory.
I received this note.

How did you get this?

You sent it to Dr. Rauch requesting
his brightest composition student.

He was kind enough to send me.

You said you needed a copyist
as a matter of great urgency.

But. . . But you're a woman.

- Yes, sir.
- Oh, God. Help me up, please.

I used to be a strong man.
I hunted boar in the forest.

Now this is all that's left.

Now, you must go back to Rauch.
Tell him to send someone else.

But you insisted on his best student.

And forgive me, Herr Schlemmer,

I may be a woman
but I am the best student.

I'm certainly capable of any
copying tasks you may have.

Do you know why you're here?

Do you know whom we're talking about?

No, Dr. Rauch didn't explain.

- The Beast.
- The Beast?

Beethoven.

They're premiering his Ninth Symphony
and the parts are not ready.

- What remains to be done?
- The chorale.

Can you imagine?
A chorale in a symphony?

How many voices?

Four soloists and a chorus,
and they don't sing until the end.

They just stand there waiting,
hundreds of them, for an hour.

- He's utterly losing his mind.
- When is the premiere?

Four days time.

This cancer is a gift from God.
Death will be a vacation.

Herr Schlemmer, from what I understand,
there is really no time to waste.

The premiere is Sunday,
you have no copyist.

I really should get to work right away.

On my desk. That pile.
That's part of the chorale.

This is his handwriting? This. . .

Schlemmer?
- Oh, my God, it's him!

Get away, get away.

Schlemmer, where are you?
What are you doing?

I'm dying, Maestro.

And I am on the cross!
God in heaven, why am I abused this way?

You will not drive nails into me, not you !

B flat, B flat, B flat!

Moron!

Oh, my God.

You will do it all over again.

You will bring it to me, you personally,
to my apartment,

or I'll kill you, Schlemmer!

I'll destroy you !

Herr Schlemmer?
I will go.

- You're in no condition.
- I must go.

- Please, calm yourself. I'll go.
- Oh, yes, you go.

That makes much more sense.
I'll stay here.

But first, we must attend to this.
He will be expecting this.

Good afternoon.
I'm looking for Ludwig van Beethoven.

He can't hear you.
He's deaf, you know. Just go in.

Thank you.

- Your corrected copy, Maestro.
- My dear girl, what is it?

What?

The corrected copy that you asked
of Herr Schlemmer this morning.

Copy?

That you asked
of Herr Schlemmer this morning.

Oh, yeah. Poor Schlemmer.

I do hope he's coming.
I owe him an apology.

No, I'm afraid he is too ill. He sent me.

Too ill, you say? Well, thank you.

I'm working, as you see,
as you no doubt heard.

A hood helps to concentrate the sound.
The vibrations, I feel the vibrations.

Here, I want you to take these to Schlemmer.

Tell him that I must have someone
to work with me here.

That is why he sent me, Maestro,
to work with you.

What?

I am the one
he sent to work with you.

Mercy.

- You old letch. He sent you, did he?
- Yes.

Now, you go back, my sweet girl.

Tell Schlemmer I'm going out
for my dinner,

and when I get back,
I expect a copyist to be here.

I told you, that is why I am here.

- What?
- That is why I'm here, Maestro.

You're serious, aren't you?

If you will look at the pages
I copied for you this morning,

- you will see that I am fully qualified to. . .
- How could he do this to me?

I'm not a well man.
I've rheumatism, gout, water on the lungs.

You were saying something.

Never speak to me
when my back is turned.

What were you saying?

I was asking you to read
the pages I copied.

Read the pages. All right, I'll do that.
I'll read the pages.

Nice, very good.

What's this?

Right before the choir comes in,
B major, D major.

You have it in B minor.

I wrote it in B major.
Why did you change it?

- I didn't change it.
- What?

I didn't change it. I corrected it.

Corrected it? You corrected it?

Yes, I knew you didn't intend
to keep it in B major.

Really?

Well, the Italians would keep it in B major.

Rossini would keep it in the major,
Cherubini would keep it in the major.

But you wouldn't.

You would change it just for a moment,

to build the suspense
before the explosion.

If you will permit me. . .

That's neither Rossini or Cherubini.
That's Beethoven.

You're saying that
I accidentally miswrote it?

No, Maestro. I think you did it deliberately.

- I think it was a trap.
- A track?

- A trap.
- A trap?

- To test Herr Schlemmer.
- Why on earth would I test Schlemmer?

- To see if he truly understood.
- Understood what?

- Your soul.
- My soul?

- You think it works in the minor?
- Am I wrong?

You approve of what I've done?

I think it's brilliant.
I think it's all wonderful.

- You like it?
- Very, very much.

- How old are you, my dear?
- Twenty-three.

Twenty-three years old.

I can just imagine you at the creation,
with your two decades of experience,

saying to the Almighty,

"I think you've done
a brilliant job with the world.

"I especially like South America.
Beautiful shape.

"That wonderful bulge
and the slender taper.

"The Straits of Magellan,
lovely little touch.

"Africa, on the other hand,
bit wide for my taste.

"And Asia is entirely out of proportion.

"I'm afraid, Herr Godhead,
you'll have to do it all over. "

I cannot tell you how much it means to me

to know that you approve of my work.

- What are you doing?
- Nothing.

You must look at me when you speak.

- What is your name?
- Anna. Anna Holtz.

Anna Holtz.

Well, Anna Holtz, I'm going
to Krenski's tavern for my dinner.

We can work when I get back.

Meanwhile, start on these.

You may put your things over here.

Please excuse the condition of my rooms.
I'm a bachelor, you know, without a wife.

What an existence.

Thank God for my nephew Karl.
He's my whole life, yes.

My whole life.

- Have you eaten?
- No.

I'll bring you something. Do you like trout?

- Thank you.
- Very good.

I'm a very difficult person, Anna Holtz,

but I take comfort in the fact
that God made me that way.

- Krenski, another.
- Maestro. . .

- Come on, I've earned it.
- It's getting late, Louis.

- What?
- It's late. Shouldn't you be working?

I can't go home.
There's a woman in my apartment.

- Young woman?
- Twenty-three.

If I had a 23-year-old girl
waiting in my apartment, I'd never leave.

Will I be seeing you
later tonight, Maestro?

- Thank you.
- Not tonight, Magda.

He's already got a fish in the fire.

Yeah, how about you, Rudy?

Oh, Magda, I haven't had a hard-on
since he could hear.

What?

Rudy. . .

This is serious.
She wants to work with me.

- Copy my work.
- So let her.

Yes, well, it's not just that.
She changed something I wrote.

You understand?
She did what I should have done.

- Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?
- It's frightening. How did she know?

This new symphony, it's my farewell.

- You're not that sick.
- No, no, no, no.

My farewell to music
as I've always known it,

as I've always written it.

You've been talking
about that for years, Louis.

I'm starting a new chapter in my life.

New forms, a new language.

And now this woman is sent to me
at this very moment.

What if she was sent by him?

- Women are usually sent by the other one.
- Well, suppose it's a sign?

- A sign for what, Louis?
- That it's time.

- A time for what?
- A time for me to join with him.

Well, if it's true and she was sent by him,
and she's waiting in your apartment,

you shouldn't be sitting here drinking,
should you?

Maestro?

What are you doing here?
Why aren't you upstairs?

There are rats in your room. Big rats.

Yes, they keep away the cats. I hate cats.

- Why?
- They don't make any noise.

How long have you been here?

- Two hours, maybe.
- Oh, goodness.

We won't work tonight.
You come back in the morning.

- I'll get you a cab. You go home now.
- Thank you.

- Where do you live?
- The Convent of the Sacred Heart.

The Convent of the Sacred Heart.

Convent? You live in a convent with nuns?

- Yes.
- They're worse than cats.

The mother superior is my great-aunt.

It was the only way my father would
let me come to Vienna to study.

To study? What do you study?

- Composition.
- Oh, my God.

A woman composer.

There have been many women composers.

Like a dog walking on its hind legs.

It's never done well,
but you're surprised it's done at all.

Driver!

- Take her to the Sacred Heart.
- Yes, sir.

I almost forgot. Your trout.

- Come tomorrow. Early.
Thank you.

- You are aware of the time, Anna?
- I'm sorry, Mother.

- But I have a job.
- A job?

Yes, I'm working with Beethoven.

Beethoven, the black Catholic?
He was nearly excommunicated.

Anna, I really don't think this is wise.

Excuse me, Mother,
but I can learn a great deal from him.

About what?
Drunkenness, profanity, heresy?

How long do you intend
to continue with this job?

- Until the premiere of his new symphony.
- I see.

Your young man was here today.
I sent him away again.

Anna, your father has entrusted me
with your well-being,

and I take that role very seriously.

I understand, but I am not a child.
I came to Vienna with a purpose.

Purposes can change.
I came here to study with Salieri

when he was composer
to the emperor's court.

I wanted to sing with the Paris Opera.

I know what it is to be a girl
who has dreams.

Then perhaps you can find it
in your heart to respect mine.

I'm going to trust you, Anna,
but remember,

dreams can be wonderful,

they can also be dangerous.

Sometimes all the more wonderful
because of the danger.

Thank you. Good night.

Anna?

Martin, are you crazy?

Yes. This is the twelfth window
I've tried, and I must say,

there are some very attractive nuns
in this convent.

I couldn't wait to tell you.

Anna, I've been invited to submit
my design for the competition.

- The Archduke's competition?
- Yes.

- And if I win, it will make my career. . .
- Martin!

- I have some news, too.
- What?

Can you make it fast?
I can't hang on much longer.

- I'm copying Beethoven.
- Beethoven. . .

Come tomorrow and see my bridge.

All right.

- Excuse me, Herr Schlemmer.
- Now, that was Beethoven.

Was Beethoven.

He wrote it for a young woman, you know.
A young woman named Elise.

You see, he was a romantic,
and then something changed.

- His deafness?
- No, more than that.

It's as if his soul has gone deaf.

He doesn't listen to the public anymore.

The Last Piano Sonatas.
Have you heard them?

What is this? You tell me, what is this?

Who does he write for nowadays?
It's certainly not for money.

I'm lucky if I can get anyone
to pay for his works.

So how am I going to pay for you?

I don't mind, Herr Schlemmer. Really.

I see this as an opportunity sent from God.

To make restitution for your sins?

- To show him my work.
- Promise you won't do that.

He'll tear you to pieces.

Did you hear what he said to Rossini,
my most popular composer?

- What if I have talent?
- Please.

Excuse me, my dear,
but don't show him anything,

not before the premiere.
Promise me that much.

I'm off to his apartment now.

Tell him he must finish today.
Don't tell him I said that. You tell him.

It may be that he likes you.

They're rehearsing
the first three movements now,

and he insists on conducting.

What's he going to do? Lip-read?

- He can't hear the orchestra?
- Oh, the last time he conducted them,

he threw them off so badly
they had to start all over again twice.

Please, try to convince him not to conduct.

Why have we stopped?

We start over.

- From where, Maestro?
- From the beginning, you idiot!

A little higher, please.

You won't last long. They never do.

Did you empty out the piss pots?
Good girl.

He's a filthy old bastard, isn't he?

I must say,
you're the prettiest one he's had.

- You should really come and work for me.
- Who are you?

I'm Karl van Beethoven, the nephew.

- You're the one who. . .
- Who what? Ruined his life?

Made it impossible for him
to compose for years?

The ungrateful little brat
who only borrows money?

Yes, that's me.

I was going to say, the one he dotes on.

Dotes on? Yes, in his dotage.

- How long have you been working for him?
- Since last night.

It's like that.

He usually chooses the more mature,
developed kind.

Since I started this job,
I've been mistaken for a nurse,

a maid and now a prostitute!

- No more!
- Jesus, then what the hell are you?

- I'm his copyist.
- Copyist?

- Yes.
- Then why are you cleaning?

Because I can't work
under these conditions,

- and I doubt that he can.
- Are you joking? He lives this way.

- Yes, and you let him.
- Let him?

You can't stop him from doing anything.
He's a force of nature.

Just ask my poor mother.
For Christ's sake, ask me.

Trying to force me
to become a pianist, like him.

- What's wrong with being a pianist?
- What's. . . I have no talent.

But still he thunders on.
He tears down everything in his path.

He destroys anyone he meets
with his monumental ego.

"Oh, I am Ludwig van Beethoven,
and you, you are nothing. "

At least not by the time
he's done with you.

- I will wait for your uncle outside.
- No, no, no. I'm sorry, I'll go.

It is not my place
to make you leave this apartment.

Miss. . .

Holtz.

I'm not what everybody
says about me, Miss Holtz.

He's trying to destroy my mother.

I mean, for years he's kept me from her
so that he could, well, possess me.

Because he loves you.

Yes, but I can't bear it.

Everybody is used to
being despised by him.

Can you imagine what it's like
to be the only one who is loved by him?

I see you two have met.

My nephew Karl. Isn't he fine?

And you should hear him play
the piano, Anna Holtz.

He's a Beethoven, all right.
Play something for her.

Not now, Uncle, please.

You have to get over that shyness
if you want to go on stage.

I don't want to go on stage.

You should have been with me
this morning.

That would have braced you up.

There's nothing like
the rehearsal of a new work

to get the musical juices flowing.

Look, Anna Holtz, I finished.

All your hard work inspired me.
You must be an angel, a muse.

Herr Schlemmer will be delighted.

Schlemmer. I've arranged for Krenski
to send him some pickled carp.

That will put him back in the pink.

- He's got cancer.
- Shall we celebrate?

Let's go up to the lake
to Kahlenberg for lunch.

I must copy these
for tomorrow's rehearsal.

- Well, you then, Karl. Come with me.
- I'm a bit short this month, Uncle.

- What?
- I say, I'm a bit short.

Oh, nonsense. You're taller than I.

That was a joke, Anna Holtz. A family joke.
We have lots of good jokes in our family.

Don't worry, Karl.
I'll pay for everything. My treat.

Well, actually, I'm very short this month.

Oh, well, yes.

Where's my. . .

Shit.

The cleaning woman,
she's stealing from me. I know it.

- Well, will 20 do?
- Well. . .

Here, 30, then.

- You'll have supper with me tonight?
- Well, I've promised some friends that. . .

I'm the greatest friend you have
in the world, Karl.

- I'll try.
- Karl.

Kiss me.

He won't come.

Went to gamble with his friends.

That's why he wanted the money.

What do you think of my nephew?

I think he's confused and unhappy.

He's my blood.

- Are you unhappy?
- I'm not confused.

You shouldn't ask me
such things, Anna Holtz.

Don't say such things to me.

You don't have the right.
You haven't earned it.

- I apologize, Maestro.
- Did you speak?

You're doing it again. I can't see your face.

What did you say?
I suppose you apologized.

- Yes, Maestro.
- Well, don't apologize when I attack you !

Fight back!

I can't stand people who whimper
and simper and apologize!

Well, you do it all the time!

You abuse people, you insult them,
and then you send them a pickled carp!

That's true.

That's better.

Did he. . .

Did he say anything about me?

He said you wanted him to be a pianist,
and he has no talent.

I'll be the judge of that.
What better judge than I?

I've given Karl every advantage.
The best teachers. Me, for God's sake.

The boy has talent.
It just has to be brought out.

- Forced out?
- What?

- I was just. . .
- What?

I was just wondering
if you can force someone to be an artist.

Go back to work.

What's that?

God damn you, you son of a bitch!

Do you hear me?

We are trying to eat, God damn you !

You've ruined the goulash again!

Did you study my piano sonatas
at the conservatory?

- Of course, Maestro.
- And which is your favorite?

The Waldstein? The Appassionata?

Oh, I know. I know.

The Moonlight.

I can only stay a moment.
I have to take these to Schlemmer's.

- Oh, stay longer.
- I can't. I. . .

Besides, should the nuns find out. . .

The nuns, the nuns. I'm going to
break you out of that place. It's a prison.

- Let me see it. Show it to me.
- Show you what?

- The bridge, you blockhead.
- All right, all right.

What do you think?
- It's amazing.

A year's work. Every day,
every night, every spare moment.

Now all I have to do is build the model.

Anna, if I win, they're going to build it
across the Danube. My bridge.

The Martin Bauer Bridge.

Don't be silly.
They'll name it after the Archduke.

Archdukes come and go.
Technology lasts forever.

Beethoven wouldn't agree.
He always says. . .

Beethoven! Beethoven!
Beethoven is an old hypocrite.

He claims to be one of the people,
but he lives off the rich.

He fawns on the nobility.

The Archduke, that prissy Russian count.

I wish you weren't working for him.

I don't work for him. I work with him.

Excuse me, Maestro.

I thought it would be
the greatest privilege in the world.

And it is.

- It's just that. . .
- That what?

He's a brute. He's filthy rude.

He was lovely with me until he found out
I was to be his copyist and then. . .

And then what?

He mooned me.

He did. . . For God's sake, Anna,
you have to get out of there!

- But I want to show him my work.
- Why?

- Because it's a great opportunity.
- Show it to him and get out.

After the premiere.
It's Sunday. Will you come?

Two hours of Beethoven's music.

Anna, nobody listens
to this stuff anymore.

This is the new music. This is the future.

Very well, then. Don't come.
I have to go now.

To spend an evening with you,
I would even listen to Beethoven.

Good day, ma'am.

Glorious, isn't it?

The quiet.

He's been out all day, since before dawn.

Walks in the woods, you know,
out in Kahlenberg.

I have no windows.

This is the only chance I get
to open my door.

That must be terrible,
to be shut in all the time.

I live for these moments,

these peaceful hours.

- Excuse me, but why don't you move?
- Move?

I am the next-door neighbor
of Ludwig van Beethoven.

I hear all the pieces before anyone,
before they're premiered.

The whole of Vienna envies me.
I've been with him since the 7th.

Wonderful stuff.

The new one's coming along, isn't it?

- Very well, thank you.
- Keep him at it.

I will.

- Excuse me!
- Christ.

What are you doing?

You're the one stealing from him,
aren't you?

- It's not stealing.
- What is it, then?

It's what he owes me.

He's trying to arrange a recital for me.

Do you understand?

I don't want to play the goddamn piano.

- Put back the money.
- No, I can't.

I have debts,
debts I owe to very dangerous people.

I mean, you have no idea.
You're just a girl. Sheltered.

Vienna is not a healthy place.

You know, they say it's the center
of culture, of civilization. . .

Karl, give me the money.
I'll put it back for you.

- I can't.
- Give me the money!

I'm not a bad person, Miss Holtz.

I just can't stop,
and I need this money now.

Oh, my God. He's coming.

Karl !

Uncle.

Good morning, Karl.
Good morning.

I'm late.

- I've set the recital a week from Tuesday.
- Okay.

Anna Holtz, isn't life a beautiful thing?

I was walking out at Kahlenberg.
Do you ever go there?

Nature. Man lives for nature.

If you ever really want to compose,
you must take rooms at Kahlenberg.

I saw Karl. I met him on the stairs.

Yes.

Did he tell you? I've arranged
a recital for him. He's very excited.

Maestro.

- He doesn't want to do the recital.
- What?

- He doesn't want to do the recital.
- Nonsense. He said that to you?

I just saw him. He said nothing of the kind.
He didn't come here for that?

No. He came here for money.

Money? He didn't ask me for any money.

Are you saying that he stole from me,
that he came here to take my money?

It's the cleaning woman.
I've been meaning to sack her for weeks.

Karl, a thief?
Why would you say such a thing?

Because I know that you love him.

Love? And what would a girl your age
understand about love?

My God, you're in love, aren't you?
Who? Let me guess.

Your professor of counterpoint.

Young, good looking,
frilly-shirted, fifth-rate Rossini.

- He's an engineer.
- Engineer?

Yes. He's designing a bridge
for the Archduke's competition.

One of our men of steel.
One of our new iron men.

- Martin is an artist.
- Martin? Well. . .

I'm very aware of Martin's kind of artists.
They're slide rules without souls.

You shouldn't be his lover,
you should be his enemy.

I'm not his lover.

So, that's why you came to Vienna?
To chase a man.

I came to Vienna because God
wishes me to be a composer.

Well, then, he made a serious mistake
in making you a woman.

You should not talk about God that way.

I assure you, Anna Holtz, the Almighty
and I understand each other perfectly.

We're like two bears in one den.

We growl and snarl and claw
at one another.

Sleep at each other's backs.

No one dares come near us.

That sounds like a very lonely religion.

Loneliness is my religion.

Why aren't you working?
The premiere is tomorrow night.

Do you think I ought to
cancel Karl's recital?

- Yes, Maestro.
- He wants to join the Army, you know?

Abandon music, become a cavalryman.
He always loved horses.

Perhaps that would be for the best.

Yes, perhaps.

Perhaps.

Why are you so frank with me,
Anna Holtz?

Because I esteem you
as one of the greatest. . .

Don't flatter me!

Why do you wish to be near me?

Because. . .

Because it makes me believe
that I, too, can write music.

Music?

The vibrations on the air

are the breath of God
speaking to man's soul.

Music is the language of God.

We musicians are as close to God
as man can be.

We hear his voice.

We read his lips.

We give birth to the children of God
who sing his praise.

That's what musicians are, Anna Holtz.

And if we're not that, we're nothing.

Please, have a seat.

It's two hours long.

Should be interesting, yes?
- Yes.

- His first symphony in 10 years?
- Yes.

Anna.

Excuse me, sir. Would you mind?

Excuse me.

- I was looking for you in the balconies.
- For my Anna, only the best seats.

How did you get them?

Well, there are some advantages
to having wealthy parents.

The Archduke.

Fortunately, we're upwind.

- You look wonderful.
- Thank you.

Miss Holtz! Miss Holtz!

You must come with me, please!
You must come!

- They're about to start.
- It's Beethoven.

He wanted me to stand in the wings
and read time for him.

Can you imagine standing for two hours?

I can't stand for two minutes.

I had to tell him Karl is not here.

I went to his seat, and he had sold it
to an American in a loud suit

and a wife half his age.

You must go to him. He needs you.

Maestro.

You sent for me?

- Karl did not come?
- No.

Perhaps he's ill.

- That must be it.
- He would have, if he could.

I'm here.

Everyone thinks I live in silence.

It's not true.

My head is constantly filled with sound.
It never stops.

The only relief I have is to write it down.

God infests my mind with music.

And then what does he do?
He makes me deaf.

He denies me the pleasure
he allows everyone else, hearing my work.

Is that a loving God?

- Is that a friend?
- He is our father.

My father was a brutal, drunken sod.

If God is my father, I disown him.

Maybe. . .

Maybe I'm losing my mind.

That's what they think, all of them.

What do you think?

I think God is speaking to you. I know it.

I can't do this, Anna Holtz.

- I can't keep the orchestra together.
- Maestro, I will help you.

I will stand where you can see me.

I'll keep the beat for you,
give you the entrances.

Don't worry.

Are they here? The vultures?

Yes.

The Archduke.

All the composers.

All of Vienna.

My coat, please.

- Anna Holtz.
- Yes?

- You look like a woman.
- Thank you.

But can you conduct?

We're in trouble.
God help us.

Now music changes forever.

Thank you so much.

Maestro, brilliant! Heavenly!

- I know.
- Divine.

Anna! Anna Holtz! We did it! We did it!

Yes.

We're going to Krenski's tavern.
Come celebrate with us.

I can't, Maestro. The convent.

Oh, the nuns. Well, bring them along !

We'll get them drunk
and give them a good job!

Good night. Bravo, Maestro!

For the love of Christ, you filthy bastard !

What kind of a life can I live down here?

Anna Holtz. Did you hear it?
Coming up the stairs, could you hear it?

Yes, Maestro. What is it?

It's the Grosse Fugue.
The fugue for the new quartet.

It's been going round
in my head for weeks.

I've been up all night working on it.

- What do you think?
- May I?

This is the beginning.

Well? Well, do you like it?

- I. . .
- Be frank. I value your frankness.

I think it's ugly.

Ugly? You think it's ugly?
Of course it's ugly.

But is it beautiful?

- I don't understand.
- She doesn't understand.

It's meant to challenge
your sense of beauty.

I'm opening up music to the ugly,
to the visceral.

How else can you get to the divine
except through the guts of man?

See, here. See, this is where God lives.
Not in the head.

Not even in the soul, but in the guts.

Because this is where the people feel it.

The intestines twist and coil to heaven.

Bowels are closer to enlightenment
than the brain.

You can't have your head in the clouds

unless there's shit
on the soles of your boots.

- Come on. Sing it with me.
- What?

Come on.

So? So?

I'm sorry, Maestro. I don't understand it.

Oh, no. Of course you don't understand.
It's not about understanding.

You must experience these works of mine.

It's a language, Anna Holtz,
a new language I'm inventing

to talk about man's experience of God,
my experience of God.

That's why you were sent to me,
to write down this language.

You are God's secretary.

You read his lips through me,
but understanding. . .

I have something for you.

Christ! I'm not even dressed.

Where did I put it?

Oh, here, look.

It's the score I conducted. . .
We conducted from.

Look. I've inscribed it to you.

Maestro.

"My dear Anna,
you're the angel of my soul,

"the only hands I can trust
to bear it across the tides of time. "

Well?

It's such an honor, Maestro.

It's no less than you deserve.

Maestro, I have something for you.

What?

- You wrote it?
- Yes.

It's in C minor, huh? My favorite key.

This is amazing.
I've never seen anything like it.

It's completely cerebral, isn't it?

This here. . .
This bit actually shows promise.

But this. . . This. . .

This here is. . .

It's a little bit like intellectual
wind-breaking, isn't it?

Handwriting is very neat. But this. . .

You've invented a new musical genre.
Fartissimo!

Oh, God, what fun.

Let's get down to work, shall we?

Oh, my God. What have I done?
It was the fugue.

Anna Holtz, I didn't. . . I didn't think!

Sometimes I don't think! Ask Karl !

Anna, please!
Let me look at it again! Anna!

Anna! I'm a fool !
I'm an old, stupid, deaf fool !

You gave me the gift.
So, why are you telling me not to use it?

Why are you doing this to me?

I didn't ask for this gift.
What do you want me to do?

Anna, your gift is from God.

Use it to serve him.

But that's not my calling.

Music isn't my calling.
I came here to study.

You studied with Salieri.
You must know what I mean.

I didn't even get to meet Salieri.

They sent me to work
with one of his assistants.

I was 17. He was French.

I didn't get to sing at the Paris Opera,
but I came here.

And I sing his praises every day,
where it is safe.

And so can you.

But what'll I say to my father, Aunt Clara?
He's sacrificed so much for me.

It's what your father wants.
It's why he sent you.

He wants to know that you're safe with us.

Give him that peace.

Anna Holtz!

Where is she?

- What is the meaning of this?
- I demand to see her!

- Who do you think you are?
- I am Ludwig van Beethoven.

Sisters, leave now. What do you want?

You will bring Anna Holtz to me now.

- Or what will you do?
- I command you to bring her to me!

- Get back to your room.
- It's all right, Mother.

This is for you.

My composition.

- What have you done to it?
- Made some notes.

Look, I've even marked the good passages.

- It's a mess.
- But it has promise.

I told you, it has promise.

Let me develop it with you.
We can work on it together.

Anna Holtz, forgive me.

I beg you to forgive me.

Come back to me. Please.

Please.

What?

I just don't understand it, Maestro.

- Where does the movement end?
- It doesn't end. It flows.

You have to stop thinking
in terms of beginning and ending.

This is not one of the bridges
your iron man builds.

This is a living thing.

Like clouds taking shape or tides shifting.

- But musically, how does it work?
- It doesn't work, it grows.

You see, the first movement
becomes the second.

As each idea dies, a new one's born.

See, in your work,
you're obsessed with structure,

with choosing the correct form.

You have to listen to the voice
speaking inside of you.

I didn't even really hear it myself
until I went deaf.

Not that I want you to go deaf, my dear.

You're telling me that
I must find the silence in myself,

- so I can hear the music.
- Yes. Yes. Yes.

The silence is the key.
The silence between the notes.

When that silence envelops you,
then your soul can sing.

Anna Holtz, do you know
what you mean to me?

In past years, I've lived in fear because
I've been alone, like a man in prison.

Then God sent you to me.

I slipped my notes
through the bars to you.

You were the key to my release.

Wash me.

What?

Anna!

Anna, you've come. Thank you.
I'm so glad you're here.

I've been waiting for you.

I want you to be the first to see it.

- Are you ready?
- Yes.

Well?

It's very big and complex.

- It's interesting.
- But you like it?

- Honestly, I'm overwhelmed.
- Thank God.

I was so worried.
- Maestro, what are you doing?

I couldn't wait.

- I only just left.
- You may have time. I do not.

Maestro, this is my friend, Martin Bauer.
Martin, Ludwig van Beethoven.

- A pleasure, sir.
- This is your famous bridge?

Are you going to win?

- I don't know.
- How could you not know that?

Anna tells me you're an artist.
Aren't you an artist?

Well, that depends on
what you mean by an artist.

An artist is someone
who has learned to trust himself.

Maestro, what do you think?

- It has no soul.
I beg your pardon?

It lacks life, grace, passion.
It is a dead and worthless thing.

- You have no right.
- Martin. . .

No. I don't care who he is.

I don't care what the world thinks you are.
What gives you the right?

I tell you what gives me the right.

You build bridges
to connect points of land.

I build them to connect men's souls.
God gives me the right.

God whispers into some men's ears.
Well, he shouts into mine!

That's why I am deaf.

When you go blind, sir,
then you, too, will have the right

- not to be judged, but to judge.
- Beethoven. . .

I didn't know. . . I didn't know you. . .

I didn't know you had an interest
in such things.

Macaroon?

Excellency, this is Martin Bauer
of the Polytechnic Institute.

- A friend of yours, is he, Beethoven?
- No, your Excellency.

But because of the gratitude
I bear for Anna,

I'm going to do you a favor, Martin Bauer.

- I'm going to give you a gift.
- What are you doing?

Now how do you feel?
Sad? Angry? Furious?

Do you want to kill? Start over?
Build your bridge from that?

Didn't like that one, Beethoven?
- I expect you this evening.

Make a note of that.
Beethoven didn't like that one.

I didn't like it, either.

Martin.

If you ever go near that man again,
I'll have nothing more to do with you.

Do you understand me?

Nothing.

How could you do that to him?

The fire has gone out.
- I'm not your servant.

I said, I'm not your servant!

I heard you.

You've destroyed Martin.

You talk about God, and then you do this?

I may have saved his soul, if he has one.

Has it ever occurred to you
that I might love him?

You don't love him. Not him.

And I suppose I love you.

No. You want to be me.

I don't even want to be near you.

I didn't mean for you to see that.

Why did you leave it on the piano?

I was going to. . . I was planning. . .

It isn't finished.

It's good.

There are a few points to be worked out,
but on the whole it's very good.

It has strength and lyricism.
Above all, simplicity.

There's only one problem.
You're copying me, Anna Holtz.

Is that such a bad thing?

World doesn't need another Beethoven,
but it may need you.

You may leave if you wish,
but that won't free you from me.

If you work the ending of the fugue,
it's finished.

This is my bridge, Anna Holtz.

My bridge to the future of music.

If one day you will cross over it,
perhaps you will be free.

Anna Holtz.

Yes?

Martin Bauer's bridge,
what did you think of it?

I think you improved it.

Now, let's copy out the fugue
and see what the world thinks of it.

Excellent! Excellent!

You did it! You did it!

My God, you're deafer than I thought.

I just don't hear it
the way you do, Maestro.

I'm sorry.

It's all right, Anna Holtz.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't.

It had to end this way.

Maestro!

Maestro. Help!

Anna Holtz?

You're awake.

I just stopped in to look at you
and fix the fire.

This is excellent coal.
Anthracite makes the best fire.

You know about coal?

My father is a miner in Silesia.

- How are you feeling?
- I've been dreaming.

Melodies, prayers.

I've been to Krenski's. I have your lunch.

I must work.
I have to get it down before it escapes.

Please, no. Don't get up.

I'll write it down for you.
You can dictate to me.

All right.

- What key does it start in?
- No key.

No key?

You can't write music in no key.

Well, I can't write this
in anything but no key.

It's common time,
molto adagio, sotto voce.

First violin, quarter notes.

Middle C up to A.

Measure.

G up to C, tied, F.

Second violin, bar two.

Middle C up to A.

Double note E, G, C.

Have it.

Viola clef, 2B pressed.

- It's a hymn.
- Yes.

Hymn of thanksgiving.

- Thanksgiving?
- To God, for sparing me to finish my work.

After the pianissimo, the canon resumes.

First violin takes the theme.

Viola, C to A.
It's growing, gaining strength.

Second violin, C to A.

An octave higher.
- Yes.

Then the struggle. First violin, C,
up an octave, and then up to G.

And the cello. . .

- Down.
- Yes, down. Pulled down.

Half notes, F, E, D. Pulled constantly down.

And then, a voice,
a single frail voice emerges,

soaring above the sound.
The striving continues.

- Yes.
- Moving below the surface.

- Crescendo?
- Yes.

First violin longing, pleading to God.

And then, God answers. The clouds open.

Loving hands reach down.
We're raised up into heaven.

Cello remains earthbound,
but the other voices soar suspended.

- For an instant.
- Yes. For an instant.

In which you can live forever.

Earth does not exist.

Time is timeless.

And the hands that lifted you
caress your face,

mold them to the face of God.

And you are at one.

You are at peace.

You're finally free.

Yes.