Original subtitles

♪ Now Franz has been a naughty man ♪

♪ He has the count's wife when he can ♪

♪ But give the man his due, he is a tryer ♪

♪ The count is lookin' pretty sore ♪

♪ But if Franz lives to write some more ♪

♪ I think it will be called great balls of fire ♪

♪ Well, the fight is gettin' pretty hot ♪

♪ I've known duke Franz this chance a lot ♪

♪ I think he would do better if disguised ♪

Help!

♪ Now did you see that mighty blow? ♪

♪ Good grief that sword has stuck it low ♪

♪ I think Franz Liszt has just been circumcised ♪

♪ This fight should sort out men from boys ♪

♪ The swords supplied by bendy toys ♪

♪ Liszt defending doesn't show no fear ♪

♪ Well, Marie is lookin' purty cute ♪

♪ Already found a substitute ♪

♪ Well, bananas are quite cheap this time of year ♪

♪ The count has made a mighty thrust ♪

♪ Oh, dear, I think it's gone and bust ♪

♪ What a really nasty place he caught her ♪

♪ Soakin' wet, oh, what a shame ♪

♪ Oh, look, he's gone and done it again ♪

♪ Uh-oh, there seems to be more water ♪

♪ The fight is gettin' out of hand ♪

♪ The Count wants to remove the gland ♪

♪ That his dear wife Marie just wants to handle ♪

♪ The count now throws to his Marie ♪

♪ A girl's delight for all to see ♪

♪ There's not much else to do with a giant candle ♪♪

You'll have to content yourself with that

from now on, my love.

You have enjoyed your proletarian paramour for the last time.

But your love for me

is dead.

And soon he...

he will go to join it.

Pray... do not kill him.

Divorce me.

Drag the name of D'Agoult in the gutter?

Never!

Spare him, François.

Don't cut off his... genius

in its prime.

Is that what you call it?

Never fear.

I have no intention of soiling my blade

on the blood of a commoner.

I have a more fitting end in mind...

and one more suited to the crime.

Whatever his fate, I wish to share it.

Very well.

You have made your own bed.

So...

you shall lie in it.

I hired you to instruct the contessa

in musique, eh?

You have taught her lust!

Incarcerate them!

Perhaps this will teach you

not to bang on the piano!

François!

François!

Je t'en prie...

mercy! mercy!

Down!

Close!

Where is my opera?

It's the young man who wrote the opera about ancient Rome.

I'll look after this.

Hey, it's alright. he's one of us.

Ah-ah, come over here.

Liszt, my dear fellow.

Piss off, Brahms.

I always feel that people who like Brahms

would prefer to have no music at all.

he's a right wanker. come on, darling.

Have a drink?

Hey, Liszt!

My opera...

you thought it was a masterpiece.

Well, to be perfectly honest,

It reminded me very much of...

Mendelssohn.

Mendelssohn!

Somebody called?

So you're the Yid who only makes music on a cash register?

Music, schmusic. it's a living, dear boy.

Oh, fuck.

Franz....

why the hair so long?

And you never eat anything.

Look!

Ah, you're interested in opera.

Meet Rossini.

My name is Richard...

He's another boy who don't eat.

Look at his face.

And this young man here.

Hector Berlioz.

My name is Richard Wagn...

Why you not eat something, Hector, eh?

I tell you...

He'll be a sick boy one day 'cause he don't eat.

Eat!

Is it true that when Liszt was a kid

He played Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata at a concert

and the composer himself

jumped up and kissed him?

Certainly Beethoven kissed the boy.

By that time he was as deaf as a post.

Ah, Schumann!

You are Robert Schumann?

Oh, no, that's Schumann.

I am Strauss.

Not... Johann Strauss?

No.

Levi Strauss.

Monsieur...

Frederic Chopin?

Yes. My name is Richard...

Pardon me, but I happen to be

engaged at the moment

in conversation with...

Madame George Sand.

Madame Sand,

an honour.

I am...

Richard Wagner!

Of course you are, dear boy.

Excuse me. Oh, excuse me.

Oh, Christ.

Forgive my presumption, maestro,

but the performance was due to commence

30 minutes ago.

You wouldn't have me insult my guests, would you?

Oh, no, no.

I just thought it was worth a mention, that's all.

Whenever you feel ready, maestro.

Oh, aren't they lovely?

When's Liszt going to put on my opera?

He's a pianist, not an impresario.

These are the important ones.

Thank you, Hans.

The trouble with your friends, Liszt,

is they're all bourgeois pigs.

Pigs, if you please,

but aristocratic pigs, not bourgeois.

I thought I might play one of your little tunes tonight.

Little tunes?

Yeah, improvise a fantasy on some of your themes,

give them an airing in public.

With all that other stinking crap,

like chopsticks?

Well, we are in show business, Dickie.

Yes, because to you the piano is just a...

a... harlot!

Yes, and every penny earned by that harlot tonight

goes to build a monument to your beloved Beethoven,

which your beloved countrymen

so belovedly neglected to build.

Are you ready?

Once you've deducted your expenses.

Is he insinuating that Lola Montez is deductible?

Get me a drink, love.

Anyway, what's the piano to you?

Read this.

The piano...

as an instrument...

of revolution!

He's forgotten my music.

Franz Liszt!

Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt!

He never forgets anything.

Take this gentleman through the pass door

and make sure he gets a good seat.

Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt!

Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt!

Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt!

Franz Liszt!

Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt!

Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt!

Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt! Franz Liszt!

Franz Liszt! Franz li...

Tonight is...

Beethoven's! Beethoven's!

Before we pay tribute to the late great Ludwig,

I'd like to play some music

by a fellow countryman of his.

As yet he's unknown, but he's a great talent,

and he's somewhere in the audience tonight.

His name's Richard Wagner!

Richard! Where are you?

Richard?

Ah, Richard! Stand up. take a bow.

That's enough.

It's my show.

Besides being German,

Richard has something else in common with Beethoven.

He's a bleedin' genius.

How do I know?

You told me so yourself, didn't you, Richard?

Richard's written an opera

all about an Ancient Roman called Rienzi.

Here's my arrangement of it.

I've never played it before...

Play chopsticks!

So I hope you like it.

Chopsticks! Chopsticks!

Chopsticks! Chopsticks!

Chopsticks! Chopsticks!

Chopsticks!

Play Chopsticks!

Chopsticks! Chopsticks!

Chopsticks! Chopsticks!

Chopsticks! Chopsticks!

Play Chopsticks!

Thank you. Thank you.

Ladies, Richard Wagner!

Oh, there you go, Richard.

Guess where I come from.

Hungary! Hungary! Hungary! Hungary!

And whose night is it tonight?

Beethoven's! Beethoven's!

The last time I was here,

we were raising money for the victims of the flood

which devastated Hungary last year.

Well, between us, we raised 800,000 Francs

for the relief of the homeless,

and this is a token of their gratitude.

To all those here tonight who contributed

to that relief fund,

I would like to pass on the thanks

of both myself and my people

and to play especially for you

a fantasy on the tunes I heard as a child,

played by my gypsy friends on the wild plains of Hungary.

Right!

Play!

Oh, my God!

Franz! Franz!

Look!

Behind you!

Please, darling, it's our baby.

Oh, my god!

Look at her, darling. isn't she lovely?

Give me the baby.

She's our baby, Franz, please.

Come on, now. Come on.

She only wanted me to be his godfather.

Diamonds?

Ah... yeah.

Right.

♪ Oh, you gave to me ♪

♪ Now I'll give to you ♪

♪ No words can say ♪

♪ How I feel ♪♪

Who's the lucky one tonight?

Well, the Princess, of course.

I was afraid you'd pick her. She's indisposed.

She says if you're ever in Petersburg, to look her up.

Make it the millionairess.

The actress was prettier.

What the hell, we're going home tomorrow.

We'll have them both.

Writing a symphony?

Doing the accounts.

I'm writing a book.

I'm designing myself a coat of arms.

The king of Hungary's going to honour me with another title.

Hungary's number-one son.

He doesn't speak a single word of his own language.

I've been on tour since I was a kid.

The elite of Paris will laugh their heads off.

Watch out, they don't come off for good

like your bloody grandparents did in the revolution.

Titles, my dear, have never made aristocrats

out of peasants.

Beats me how you stooped so low to run off with one.

I believed in you then.

All you believed in was a stiff cock,

and your old man never had one.

I'd catch anyone running off with my woman.

Which one? It's not that I object to being your mistress.

I object to being one of your mistresses.

Your old man was chicken.

It was beneath his dignity to stoop so low

as to touch you.

One doesn't kill servants.

You were just a paid lackey of a piano player

hired to teach a bored wife to keep her fingers busy.

You threw it all up to run off with a servant,

and you say it wasn't for sex?

What about you?

Your big ambition

Was to stick your working-class cock

up a piece of high-class crumpet.

We had some great old times, though.

Your music wasn't so bad either.

We can't keep this place up

with me sitting home composing.

I've got to play concerts.

We'll manage. We did in Switzerland.

Take me with you on your tours.

Remember the scandal when we tried that in London.

It's not my fault if the English are prudes.

The box office took a proper bloody nosedive.

Bugger the box office.

I'm not having my kids living out of suitcases.

Even when you're at home, you never see them.

You don't know if they're alive or dead.

Marie, Marie, put your arms around my heart.

I am cold and lonely.

Clothe me in the warmth of your love.

You alone can make me happy.

You are my haven of rest

from the ugly world around me.

I am as dead till I think of you, then my pulse races,

and I still have the hope

of a few hours' wonderful happiness.

My one desire is to serve you and your music.

I love you with all my soul.

Hello, Mummy!

Hello, Daddy!

We found lots of dusty old letters in the attic.

Aren't they funny?

What's the matter?

We thought they'd make you laugh.

You wicked child!

Blandine and Daniel, where are they hiding?

Whenever your brother and sister get into trouble,

you're always the one behind it.

It's always your fault.

Blandine, Daniel,

you can come down now. It's over.

They didn't see the funny side of it.

If we come down now, she'll put us to bed.

That's not fair. Cosima made us do it.

You're not on the bloody roof!

It's perfectly safe.

We often go up there.

We can hear everything.

You wicked child! You'll be punished for this.

You can clear up all that mess.

Don't move. stay where you are.

Show me how you got up there.

It's easy.

Up the stairs down the passage into the attic.

♪ Oh, love ♪

♪ Oh, love ♪

♪ As long as love is young ♪

♪ As long ♪

♪ As love is young ♪

♪ Oh, love ♪

♪ Oh, love ♪

♪ As long as life shall last ♪

♪ As long as life shall last ♪

♪ The hour will come ♪

♪ When we shall weep ♪

♪ On thoughts of love and pleasures past ♪

♪ The hour will come ♪

♪ When we shall weep ♪

♪ On pleasures ♪

♪ Past ♪

♪ Oh ♪

♪ Love ♪

♪ Sweet love ♪

♪ As long as love is young ♪

♪ As long as life shall last ♪

♪ Oh, love ♪

♪ Sweet love ♪

♪ As long as love is young ♪

♪ As long ♪

♪ As life ♪

♪ Shall last ♪♪

God!

Shut up!

Okay.

You know she's still in the house.

Go on.

Giddyup.

Another tour?

What charity is it this time?

The one that begins at home...

Remember?

If you go away without us again...

There will be no... home.

It's a royal command performance

Before Czar Nicholas in St Petersburg.

I must go.

All that luggage...

for one performance.

They've never heard me play in Russia.

It'd be a shame to waste that free publicity.

I'll slay 'em.

And while you're storming Moscow, Napoleon,

I suppose I'm expected to sit at home, like Josephine,

saving your press cuttings and knitting your mittens.

I won't be cold, love,

not with all those Russian muffs around.

Oh, God!

Hans has packed all your gear.

And I've polished your sword.

What do you want it for...

to kill the critics?

Time kills critics, my dear.

Put that music in my bag, will you?

Why don't you write a nice tune for Mummy?

I'd sell my soul for the chance.

Careful...

Someone might hear.

Who, the Devil?

You'd better mention me in your prayers.

Look after your mum while i'm away.

Will you be gone long?

Why? Will you miss me?

Not while I've got a little daddy to play with.

Don't go using it as a pin cushion...

will you?

Don't worry, Daddy!

You shall write nice tunes again!

I'll pray to God every night

that you meet the Devil, so you can sell him your soul,

just like you wanted!

Bye!

Princess Carolyn said I was to look her up.

So, here I am.

You will approach her majesty on your knees...

and remain so

until given permission to rise.

Oy!

Here, hang on!

Hey!

Ah, shit!

Oh, Christ!

You almost look like Adam...

but he was a peaceful man.

You look like Ivan the Terrible...

and he was a killer.

Silence!

Have you forgotten protocol?

Well?

I thought you were familiar with etiquette.

Her majesty gets a lot of satisfaction...

out of a good smoke.

It's the perfect form of pleasure,

it's exquisite

and leaves one unsatisfied.

What more can one ask?

Fresh air sickens me.

My visitors invariably stink of it...

hence the fumigation.

There are some clothes behind that screen,

suitably impregnated.

Oh, no!

Oh, well.

I hear you rebuked the Czar

during your Royal Command Performance.

Well, he spoke while I was playing.

What?

Your highness.

He spoke while I was playing, Your Highness.

So?

So, I stopped playing, your highness.

And he asked why?

And I said, "even music herself

falls silent when the Czar speaks."

Yet the peasants at your concert howled like idiots.

What's the difference?

But they were expressing

their enjoyment of the music, Your Highness.

Rot!

You and the Czar

are different sides of the same coin...

false gods worshipped in different ways.

Dress the Czar as a peasant,

and you have a peasant.

Stop skulking behind that screen.

Dress Liszt in a crinoline and what do you have?

The same thing.

A sham.

Rather than walk naked through the world,

he chooses to play the impostor.

What do you say?

Bollocks!

Bollocks?

I don't speak Hungarian.

At least I'm not freezing to death.

Anyway, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.

Sod it, Your Majesty.

Oh, so the king of the keyboard

is also the king of the cliché.

Some of us have to play our role unwillingly.

These clothes are the trappings of bondage.

I have to dress like this.

My husband and I are separated.

I rule an estate of 30,000 barbaric peasants...

alone.

My subjects think me a divine matriarch,

but underneath I am...

a woman.

Do you believe

in the holy sacrament of love?

I nearly took holy orders when I was 16,

but my father talked me out of it.

He said, "You belong to art, not the church."

He was your business manager, was he not?

Yeah. but we were always broke.

When he died, I had to support my mother.

He said, "Art is holy

and inspiration comes from heaven."

Do you wish to enter the kingdom of heaven?

Once I thought I stood a chance.

What do you want more than anything in the world?

Can't you guess?

To write really great music.

Commit yourself entirely to my hands,

and you shall enjoy your desires.

How?

Never ask questions. always do my bidding.

Come...

We must pray.

Pray?

No longer must you prostitute your art.

Music, like sex, should be approached In a religious spirit

as one of the holiest things in life.

Mum always said I was married to my piano.

I'm sure that as a youth

you were as innocent as you were devout.

My confessor had to tell me the meanings

of the sixth and ninth commandments.

Let us practice the 69th... together.

Oh, I hope you haven't been praying too hard, Cosima.

That's not in the script!

Oh, God! They're tearing me balls off!

Don't just stand there! do something!

Help! Help!

Help me!

Help me!

♪You are ♪

♪ My soul ♪

♪ No strength to fight your tearing hands ♪

♪ Please spare me ♪

♪ I am alone ♪

♪ Kill me ♪

♪ But you destroy yourselves ♪

♪ Be soothed ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ahh ahh ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ahh ahh ♪

♪ You tear me up ♪

♪ Make me whole ♪

♪ These moments cannot be controlled ♪

♪ My shame ♪

♪ Be my game ♪

♪ Together we can light the flame ♪

♪ Flames of life ♪

♪ Flames of truth ♪

♪ Take my life ♪

♪ In this hell ♪

♪ Surrender with me to the spell ♪

♪ We'll grow ♪

♪ Let it show ♪

♪ Our harmony makes music flow ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ahh ♪

♪ Ohh ohh ohh ohh ♪

♪ Ohh ohh ohh ohh ♪

♪ Ohh ohh ohh ohh ohh ♪

♪ Ohh ohh ohh ohh ♪

♪ Ohh ohh ohh ohh ♪

♪ Ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ahh ahh ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ♪♪

Whoa!

Hey!

Wait for it!

No! No!

I didn't bargain for this!

The bargain was of your own making.

I have given you the power of Orpheus,

the power to make music

to soothe the savage beast.

You said you would sell your soul for such a gift,

give anything.

your soul

is embedded in your flesh.

Now...

No!

You must pay the price.

♪ Through me is a way ♪

♪ To the city of weeping ♪

♪ Through me is a way ♪

♪ To eternal torment ♪

No!

No!

No!

no!

Please, no!

♪ Through me is the way ♪

♪ Among those that are lost ♪

♪ Abandon hope ♪

♪ All ye ♪

♪ That enter here ♪♪

No! No!

It's not fair!

No! no!

No! Please, no!

No! Please!

No!

No! Please!

No!

What have you done?

The piano lid dropped

and nearly cut off my...

thumb.

Oh, I've just been going through your Orpheus score.

The passage where the musicians

soothe the savage beast is inspired.

The Hell Symphony I suggested you write

shows promise, too.

Particularly the movement

depicting the guilty lovers...

which brings me...

to us.

My husband still refuses to grant me a divorce.

He may not love me, but he loves my money.

He's trying to persuade the Czar to confiscate my estates.

I shall have to sell everything.

We must act quickly and leave Russia before they arrest us.

They've known about us for months. Why now after all this time?

Some little guttersnipe has written an obscene book about you.

The Czar, for one, is outraged.

"Lisztomania"?

Marie!

Oh, God!

It can't be.

Why should she?

I bribed a respected music critic

to put his name to an authentic biography on you,

which I shall write myself.

A quick whitewash job in case the public

think your music as black as she paints your character.

In the circumstances the children must be separated

from the corrupting influence of the mother

and their upbringing supervised by guardians acting on your behalf.

I've made all the necessary arrangements,

including their education in Paris.

All you have to do...

is sign this document.

There's just one condition.

Yes, my dearest?

That Hans looks after their musical education.

But, of course, my darling.

And now you must put away your music and pack for Germany.

We shall be safe there.

What have you been writing?

A funeral march.

Whatever for?

One of my friends has been killed

in the Hungarian uprising.

Oh, you did right to mourn his death in music.

I should have been there fighting with him.

For a lost cause?

Europe is ripe with revolution.

You will become the leader

of the only one that matters..

the revolution in music.

The whole world

will sing your songs of brotherhood.

Art is so much greater

than politics!

♪ Life is pain ♪

♪ Pain is loss ♪

♪ Life is pain ♪

♪ Pain is loss ♪

♪ Loss is mine for living ♪

♪ While the innocent ♪

♪ Are dying ♪

♪ They were pure ♪

♪ As pure as love ♪

♪ Oh, they were pure ♪

♪ As pure as love ♪

♪ But now they're crushed ♪

♪ Before the weight ♪

♪ Of man's desire ♪

♪ For self-destruction ♪

♪ War is waste ♪

♪ Waste is guilt ♪

♪ War is waste ♪

♪ And waste is guilt ♪

♪ Guilt is mine for watching ♪

♪ While my countrymen ♪

♪ Are dying ♪

♪ My land is dead ♪

♪ My love's destroyed ♪

♪ Only music lives ♪

♪ In me ♪♪

Excuse the intrusion, sir!

But we have reason to believe

there's a dangerous communist

hiding somewhere in the building.

I'm not in the habit of giving refuge to revolutionaries.

Close the door as you leave.

Certainly, Herr Liszt.

My apologies for having disturbed you.

Franz, you must help me...

or i'm done for.

You should be playing the piano,

Not playing soldiers.

As a budding composer,

you make a bloody awful revolutionary.

The people's revolution has failed, Franz.

I play your music whenever I can,

but your politics don't interest me.

Many of your friends have died for it!

I know what's going on outside.

I know you do.

I heard your music.

You're lucky it's just a flesh wound.

Now, what do you want from me?

10,000 crowns.

10,000? All I own is my music

and the paper it's written on.

I haven't a penny to my name.

I know!

But she has.

It's not for me. It's for the wife and kids.

Unless I can smuggle them out of the country,

We're all for the chop.

Even if we do get away,

we'll be homeless exiles

forced to settle in some alien town

where they've never heard of me or played a note of my music.

But for my family I would go naked in the world.

I have my beliefs to sustain me, Franz.

What beliefs?

The belief

that I shall write music

that will fire the imagination

of the German people

and bring to light a man of iron

to forge the shattered fragments of this country

into a nation of steel...

a vision you will help me realise...

Dear Franz.

What happened?

You passed out.

You're working too hard, Franz.

You were talking about going into exile with your family.

If they are to survive, it will be thanks to your generosity, Franz.

I have nothing.

Franz darling, I'm home.

But she has.

My latest pamphlet.

Darling!

It's happened at last.

World peace?

Well, yes, a kind of peace.

Peace of mind, if you like.

My husband has agreed to a settlement,

and the Russian courts have guaranteed us a divorce.

Now all I need

is the blessing of the Pope.

We can be in Rome tomorrow,

Married within the week,

and then free to go back to Russia forever.

Come, my love,

Let us give thanks to God.

Quick, get down.

How about a drink?

Leave some for baby...

Punk.

Another one of Liszt's leftovers?

She's my wife.

She also happens to be Liszt's daughter.

My name's Cosima.

Well, well.

You know who I am?

Sure.

I read the papers.

You're the one that's going to save Germany

and become the greatest composer the world has ever known.

The bum that's always begging favours from my old man.

Right.

Then it's time I paid him back.

Give him that next time you see him.

Bastard!

I hope he cops it.

Very well, everybody, that completes the entrance.

Your music is very beautiful, my son,

but more suited to a funeral service than a wedding ceremony.

I owe her everything.

But after tomorrow, I won't even be able to call my soul my own.

What do you want out of life?

Just to write good music and have a roof over my head.

That's not much to ask,

and we could do with some good music.

What are you getting at?

Come down here, dearest.

It's time to start the ceremony!

Just a moment!

You were saying?

Princess Carolyn's petition for divorce

is still under review.

Then what's all this, then?

We thought the Pope's blessing was just a formality.

Perhaps he has found an impediment.

Dearest!

You're keeping us waiting!

Coming!

As yet, the Pope has not granted a dispensation.

How do you know?

His Holiness and I are very close.

I would have entered the church at 16 but for my father.

I know. I read your press cuttings.

For the last time...

Dearest!

Coming!

Anyway...

Whatever the Pope decides,

it's alright by me.

When is a veil not a veil?

I don't know.

When it's a shroud!

It's serious, Franz. I can no longer look after you.

I've got to get even with the Pope

if it takes me a lifetime. I'll expose him.

How?

I'm going to write a book. It shall be called

"The Interior Causes of the Exterior Witnesses of the Church"...

in 24 volumes.

That just about takes care

of the rest of my life, I'm afraid.

What are you going to do?

I'll get my revenge on him, too.

I'll get him to support me for the rest of my life.

I'll become a priest.

You? A priest?

No, don't become a priest.

Become... an abbe.

An abbey?

An abbe. It's the same habit as a priest,

But you don't have to take a vow of celibacy.

Right. I'll become an abbe.

Then you can become a saint.

Saint Franz Liszt!

You must become a Franz-iscan!

Then I can preach to the birds, hey?

You would be able to walk on the water.

I can walk on air!

Franz!

Aye, aye.

Hey!

You're distracting me.

I'm going home to start my writing.

Look me up between chapters!

We'll say a few Hail Marys

and sink a few bloody marys together.

Bye!

Praise the Lord!

♪ Jesus ♪

♪ Cavit ♪♪

Huh?

I...I...I know this looks bad, Your Holiness,

but...but I can explain everything.

Oh, please, give us your blessing.

In nomine patris et filii, spiritu sancti,

♪ Amen ♪♪

Holy Father, this is my music copyist... Mr Janine.

At least, in her letter,

she said she was a mister.

she rode nonstop all the way from the Ukraine,

then slipped into the monastery disguised as a nun

and forced me into bed at gunpoint.

I know it sounds improbable, your holiness, but I...

But truth is stranger than fiction?

We've kept going for 2,000 years on that one.

Which brings me to us.

I heard one of your new compositions yesterday...

The Cantata,

glorifying Christ's representative on Earth.

The one I wrote about you?

Magnificent. The occasion inspired you.

The music is divine.

You could've conducted the Orchestra of Saint Cecilia.

Your music could've been played

in every Catholic church throughout the world.

You could've become the greatest Catholic composer on earth

but for...

but for...

Bloody female!

Raped at gunpoint.

Well, it happens to the best of us.

You are more to be pitied than punished, my son.

You haven't heard the news, then.

News? What news?

Your daughter's deserted her husband,

renounced her faith, and married antichrist.

Cosima...

left Hans and married who?

Satan himself.

Richard Wagner.

Wagner?

Wagner's in exile with his wife and children.

Much has changed since you embraced the monastic life, my son.

Wagner has sacrificed friends and family alike

in his evil climb to power.

He's become the Prince of Darkness...

singing the praises of an obscene religion

of his own creation.

His operas are cunning hymns of hate

against Christ and humanity,

a situation for which you are partly to blame.

How could Cosima do such a thing?

Poor Hans.

Poor Hans? Poor Franz.

Think of yourself for once, my son.

How can Holy Mother Church

give her blessing to music

written by the father-in-law of the Devil?

Come on, lads.

But what can I do, Holy Father?

One of your orders is that of exorcist.

Cast out the evil in Wagner.

Bring him to the faith,

and in saving his soul, you may redeem your music.

And until such times,

it is tainted in the eyes of the world

and will be put on the index and banned!

You're not going to leave me, are you?

I'll kill you if you do.

Go ahead.

You'll be doing me a favour.

Well, what shall I do?

Get back into your nun's fancy dress

and go back to the Ukraine, Mr Janine!

Where are you going?

Off to drown Wagner in holy water!

One more step and I'll shoot!

Excuse me. could you direct me to Wagner's castle?

Excuse me.

Wagner's castle?

Excuse me...

could you direct me to... Wagner's castle?

Where...

is...

Wagner's castle?

Hans! What the hell are you doing here?

You must go away from here.

You're in grave danger!

Danger?

Danger from what?

His music.

His music? You're raving.

It's an evil drug,

Masquerading as a universal cure!

Well, kick it then, and when I leave, you leave with me.

No! It's too late!

You still love Cosima, don't you?

You stay here just to be with her and the kid.

Now, stop fooling about and let me in!

He sees no one between dusk and dawn.

Now, for God's sake, go!

♪ The flowering youth ♪

♪ Of Germany ♪

♪ Was raped ♪

♪ By the beast ♪

My music!

♪ A fearful power ♪

♪ Of German gold ♪

♪ Was pillaged ♪

♪ By the beast ♪

♪ Great the sorrow ♪

♪ In the land ♪

♪ But I urge you ♪

♪ mourn ♪

♪ No more ♪

♪ Ahh ♪ ♪ Ahh ♪

♪ The new messiah ♪

♪ Ahh ♪ ♪ Ahh ♪

♪ His day ♪

♪ At hand ♪

♪ Will drive the beast ♪

♪ From our land ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ♪ ♪ Ahh ahh ♪

♪ He will restore ♪

♪ Ahh ahh ahh ♪ ♪ Ahh ahh ahh ♪

♪ Teutonic godhead ♪

♪ The hour ♪

♪ Of the aryan ♪

♪ Superman ♪

♪ Is ♪

♪ At ♪

♪ Hand ♪♪

I am his prophet.

you are his prophet.

She is his handmaiden.

She is his handmaiden.

My sacred works...

I entrust to her.

Through her, you will perform the ritual.

Through me, you will serve the superman.

You will be...

the master race!

We will be the master race.

We will be the master race!

We will be the master race!

We will be the master race!

We will be the master race!

We will be the master race!

We will be the master race!

We will be the master race!

We will be the master race!

We will be the master race!

We will be the master race!

We will be the master race!

My dear Franz!

Come in. Come in.

I'd hoped it was the devil.

Cosima said you would never come here.

"Nonsense," I said.

"Nothing can separate us."

"One day, he will come."

How long have you been out there?

Just this minute.

You're harder to see than God.

I must speak to Hans.

He's getting overzealous.

Have a seat.

True, the church wishes me dead, Franz,

but what have I to fear from an old friend

just because he's turned Franciscan?

Don't tell me

you're going in for electronic music?

German music is good enough for me,

or will be

when we've rid it of the Jews.

And who's going to do that,

your man of iron?

He's a long time coming.

But he's here, Franz.

He's here.

Come.

Once I dreamed of revolution.

I was a Communist.

I believed that one day a leader would rise

from the ranks of the people

and lead them to freedom.

Such a man does not exist.

To imagine he ever could is just a foolish dream.

No, Franz. We need a superman.

Such a creature will never be born of woman.

Such a creature must be created!

With science and a lot of scrap?

They do say music is the gay science.

My music

and my philosophy

will give him life.

Goldstein!

Eckstein!

Silverstein!

Finklestein!

Englestein!

Gluckstein!

Goldstein!

Beckstein!

Hinklestein!

Englestein!

Oh, yes!

Gluckstein!

Any Stein!

Bernstein!

Lowenstein!

Stein...

What?

Stein!

Good boy.

Good boy.

Beckstein.

Goldstein.

Gluckstein.

And maybe even...

a couple of Cohens!

Stein!

Stein!

Stein.

Look at my creation, Franz.

Isn't he superb?

Such power,

Such majesty,

Such grace!

Go forth.

Go forth, sweet Siegfried.

Drive the beast from our glorious fatherland.

Rekindle the flames of German unity!

I think he's taking a piss.

Put it away.

Leave it!

Maybe he's tone deaf, as well.

There is more work to be done.

Even if he had worked,

no one would have followed him.

He looks like a character out of a comic.

Right.

I shall remodel the features,

Modernise the clothes.

But what about his soul, Richard?

What good's a leader without a soul?

I was hoping to enlist your aid there, Franz.

That's your business, isn't it...

buying and selling... souls?

You've got the wrong firm.

We just save them.

Pity. I thought perhaps you might help me.

From the music I heard,

I'd say you'd helped yourself already.

All beautiful things are for sharing, Franz.

Fix me a bloody mary, will you?

Wine, women, and song...

we share many interests, Franz.

Like my daughter,

my money, and my music?

There's not much left to steal.

I thought Franciscans gave away everything

When they took their vow of poverty.

or is that habit you're wearing

just another fancy dress,

like your old Hungarian outfit?

Maybe.

Your health.

Why did you come here?

The Pope sent me to exorcise you.

You've been drinking holy water.

And now it hasn't worked,

have you lost faith, Franz?

the church has certainly lost faith in you.

I put my faith in the wrong thing.

I should have put it in my music,

not holy water.

I never lost faith in your music, Franz.

Never once.

I need it to make my creation live.

And if you will not give it...

then I must take it.

Your work is a creation of the Devil,

but my music will drive him out.

I'm dying.

You're responsible for this

with your decadent religion.

You ruined mother's life,

my life...

and now you want to ruin his.

Well, you won't.

Dearest, you look poorly.

Be quiet.

There's not much time.

Listen carefully to what I say.

Cosima!

Cosima!

Cosima!

Cosima!

Cosima!

Cosima!

Cosima!

Cosima!

Stop!

What does it feel like, father,

to be totally forgotten?

The greatest musical failure of the 19th century.

That's for leaving me an orphan.

And that's for leaving me a widow.

No more! No more!

Weia waga wallola weiala.

Weia waga wallola weiala.

Weia waga wallola weiala.

Weia waga wallola weiala.

He's among us! He's coming!

He's coming!

He's coming!

He's coming! He's coming!

Run for it!

Run! Run!

We are the master race!

We are the master race!

We are the master race!

We are the master race!

We are...

Help! Help!

No, Wagner...

Stay in hell where you belong.

Hans!

We are the master race!

We are the master race!

Sweet music!

It's beautiful.

I recognise the theme that Wagner borrowed...

Stole.

He was welcome to it.

I have plenty more.

I didn't mind him taking it.

It was what he did with it that was horrible.

Let's face it.

We were all pretty horrible

and selfish.

The bad is dead and buried.

The best of us lives on

enshrined in his music.

And that's for everyone to share.

Forever.

Forever.

Forever.

♪ Amen ♪♪

What are we going to do about Richard?

I at least had someone to pray for my soul,

but he hasn't even got one to save, poor soul.

What's he up to now?

Well, he's destroyed most of the world,

and now he's destroying Berlin.

I think we should put him out of his misery.

He's giving music a bad name.

Josephine.

Lola.

Marie.

Cosima.

Carolyn.

Fifi.

George.

Here we go!

10, 9, 8, 7, 6,

5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

fire!

♪ Now, love ♪

♪ Sweet love ♪

♪ Oh, now that love has won ♪

♪ Oh, now that love has won ♪

♪ Now, love ♪

♪ Our love ♪

♪ Our love has ended war ♪

♪ He'll torture man no more ♪

♪ Your words gave meaning to my songs ♪

♪ Our love created harmony ♪

♪ With faith, we'll guide the universe ♪

♪ Through ♪

♪ Infinity ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ I'll live in peace at last ♪

♪ Forgiven for my past ♪

♪ Peace at last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ We'll live in peace at last ♪

♪ Forgiven for the past ♪

♪ Peace at last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ We'll live in peace at last ♪

♪ Forgiven for the past ♪

♪ Peace at last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ We'll live in peace at last ♪

♪ Forgiven for the past ♪

♪ Peace at last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ At last ♪

♪ Oh, I'll live in peace at last ♪

♪ Forgiven for the past ♪

♪ Peace at last ♪

♪ Peace ♪

♪ Peace ♪

♪ Peace ♪

♪ Peace ♪

♪ I'll live in peace at last ♪

♪ Forgiven for my past ♪

♪ Peace at last ♪

♪ You may forgive me ♪

♪ Ohh, peace ♪

♪ yeah, I want ♪

♪ I want peace, peace ♪

♪ We got peace ♪♪