Original subtitles

After thirteen years in the provinces

where they grew famous performing farces,

Moliere and his troupe return to Paris.

By Jove! Without even going to the notary,

I have a cuckold certificate!

Are you moaning again, drunkard?

Madame Trollop, I find you with a man

after all the warnings I've given you

and here I am, ridiculed again!

Enough!

Not "The Jealous Husband".

Let's play "The Scatterbrain".

No! No "Jealous Husband" and no "Scatterbrain".

No more farces.

Not here.

Jean-Baptiste...

you're not thinking of staging a tragedy?

Look around.

We aren't in the provinces.

The royal Court will come here to see us.

They deserve better than vulgar farces.

Our company deserves better than farces!

I deserve better than farces.

But you can't play tragedy!

- You stutter. - Your breathing's all off.

You're a terrible tragedian.

It's the words. Corneille's texts are not for me.

I'll write my own plays.

I have things to say, Madeleine. My voice must be heard.

What do you want?

The King's brother gave us this theater to play comedy.

I'll talk to him today.

- And say what? - That I want to play only tragedies.

He'll have to find another buffoon to entertain him.

My dear Moliere, stand up straight.

Monsieur, thank you for generously sparing your precious time

to receive a wretched man.

Your Lordship is well?

- Quite, thank you. - And your spouse?

- Likewise. - Your children?

- Excellent. - And His Royal Highness?

In perfect health. His wife and children too.

Tell me, why this visit?

It's about the plays that I...

What little diversion are you preparing for us?

One of those outrageous farces you do so well?

No, not a farce. Not exactly.

A romantic comedy with endless twists and turns?

My word, not that either.

Is it about a shipwreck? I love tales of shipwrecks.

No shipwrecks, I'm afraid.

I thought I'd surprise your Highness by playing...

Very good, we love surprises.

Only please reassure me, it is a comedy?

Naturally, your Highness.

Naturally.

What did Monsieur say?

The Devil take Corneille!

I'll write better plays than he!

I say it, affirm it and proclaim it!

I am the greatest author this country has ever known.

Go on, laugh!

The day will come when my work is so famous

people won't say, "Speak to me in French"

but rather, "Speak to me in the language of Moliere".

Mr. Moliere?

My mother must see you.

Miss, it's very early for a courtesy visit.

Whoever your mother is...

Give him some time.

He needs to think.

We can't wait forever!

Fat Rene is right. If he can't make a decision, we will.

Rehearsals start tomorrow.

It will be a comedy.

Thirteen years earlier...

This empire absolute on land and on sea...

This sovereign power I exercise over the world...

This limitless grandeur and illustrious rank...

Which in days gone by cost me

such toll and blood...

In short, my good fortune which is so adored

by tedious and flattering courtiers

is merely the kind of beauty

whose sparkle

blinds.

"At the request of Mr. Antoine Fausser,

"candle merchant,

"we, Messrs Dubosc and Moissonnier,

"bailiffs of Paris,

"have come to claim the sum of..."

"We, Messrs Dubosc and Moissonnier,

"bailiffs of Paris,

"have come to claim the sum of 142 pounds."

142 pounds!

"142 pounds.

"Owed to our client

"by the Illustrious Theater Company

"and its lawful representative,

"Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, aka Moliere."

Pay us at once!

We have the power and authority to obtain such payment!

Ole!

A plague on creditors!

Long live the theater!

Mr. Poquelin, show indulgence.

142 pounds is all we need!

142 pounds? He'd earn that in one month here.

He wanted the theater? Let him suffer.

If you refuse a father's duty,

be a good Christian.

No!

Where are we going?

Here they are.

Quick, my dressing gown.

No, I shall not wear it. Take it off.

Come in.

Mr. Moliere, what a pleasure to meet you.

My notary, Mr. Bonnefoy, tells me you're a great actor.

He is too kind.

I trust him completely,

but in this particular case, I must judge for myself.

Play something for me.

Excuse me?

Go on, play.

Play.

Surely you joke.

I must judge your abilities before I hire you.

Hire me?

No one explained?

Very well.

First, please realize that anything said here

is under the seal of absolute secrecy.

For love is at stake.

My love for the most beautiful, vibrant and refined of creatures.

A young widow

who receives only the most enlightened minds

and who answers to the sweet name of Celimene.

Tell us, my dear, about Count Boisrobert.

Boisrobert?

A man of mystery from head to toe,

who's always busy though he has no business.

Always some secret to tell

that merits not the name.

He builds mountains from molehills

and murmurs even his "hellos".

And Madame de Sable, what about her?

Her cook is quite clever, it is her table one visits.

Do you prefer Madame du Breuil?

The poor woman, what dry conversation!

Certain men appreciate her.

That is true. But none are ever snared in her net.

For beauty without intelligence is like a hook without bait.

Inspired by her spirit - and to gain her good favor -

I wrote a play.

A play?

Yes, a short one-act play.

I wish to play it for the Marquise in her salon.

Which is why I need your help.

The theater I know

does not lend itself to such whims.

I'm sorry.

You're sorry...

Mr. Bonnefoy!

Take him back to prison.

I would've paid your debt but...

Good day, sir.

Good day.

What would be the exact terms of our contract?

"Master Moliere agrees to prepare Master Jourdain

"for a performance

"before the Marquise

"to gain her good favor.

"For this, Master Moliere will transmit to Master Jourdain

"his complete knowledge of acting and the stage arts,

"and Master Jourdain will follow his instructions."

I must reach perfection.

"Article 3:

"The contract shall be considered fulfilled only if Master Jourdain

"obtains indisputable signs

"of the Marquise's esteem."

This means no promises, I want results.

Final point...

"Master Moliere agrees to keep secret

"the entire undertaking

"inside Master Jourdain's home and out, notably as regards...

"Mrs. Jourdain."

Mrs. Jourdain?

Sign here.

How will you bring me home without arousing suspicion?

Take care of our guest's luggage.

A priest?

Has Sir converted?

- Bring me some hot thyme. - Yes, sir.

- And prepare my bath. - Yes, sir.

My chest feels tight, add some honey.

- To the bath? - No, to the thyme.

Yes, sir.

- Your painting teacher's here. - Since when?

- One hour, sir. - Let him wait.

- Your dance master too. - Since when?

You summoned them at the same time.

I never know which to start with.

The music teacher was here first, as requested...

Yes. I mean no.

My good man, what step shall we learn today?

Well, I thought...

Practice, no talk! Show us.

Your hand, Mr. Jourdain.

Temps ilé and two, and three, and four.

Battement ouvert,

rond de jambe and plié.

Your back, sir.

Pas de bourrée.

And port de bras...

Port de bras.

Perfect. It's such a pleasure to dance! Thank you.

If I dare give some advice...

Dare...

You must set the brush upon the canvas to apply the color.

Of course,

of course...

There you go.

Very good.

Painting is such a pleasure.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Sir?

Madame.

- Sir? - Madame.

Has there been a death?

A death? Not to my knowledge.

Is the parish in need of funds?

I've no idea.

Has anyone indicated a soul on the path to damnation?

My word, I don't think so.

Then could you explain the presence of a holy man in my home?

A holy man, Madame? Where?

Before me, sir.

Rest assured, I'm only a tutor.

For your youngest daughter,

Miss Louison.

Your name, sir?

Tartuffe. Mr. Tartuffe.

At your service.

Well then, Mr...

Tartuffe,

you must be misinformed.

I see no need for a tutor.

And certainly not a religious one.

I see one, Madame, yes I do.

Faced with today's declining morals

a bit of rigor in this house would not be superfluous.

I'm capable of ensuring Louison's education.

I'm not talking about that,

I mean dogma, the wrath of the heavens,

everything an uneducated mind tramples underfoot

through ignorance.

Strange concerns for a man who never goes to church.

I am master in my own home.

Make sure Mr. Tartuffe is comfortable.

And hide your breasts from our sight.

If Sir should need anything,

he should address himself to Sir.

Very well.

I see your mother

has taught you some basic notions.

But a mind is nothing without a good soul.

Let us start with a prayer.

Our Father...

Our Father...

Almighty

who rules over Earth and Heaven

and the entire Universe...

deliver us from Evil

and Sin.

Show us the path,

the straight path...

which...

which...

Madame, perfect timing!

I've just learned a new parry, I'll show you.

We must discuss a pressing matter.

It'll have to wait. Here, take a stick.

What should I do with this!

- Attack. - Have pity, my friend.

Attack, I said!

Have you lost your mind?

That's against the rules!

How can I dodge a side attack?

I'm not here to play a duel.

I will not suffer Mr. Tartuffe in my home.

Please leave us alone.

You think it's for my pleasure

that I shelter and feed this man?

Who's forcing you?

Need I explain that these holy men

form a powerful secret party?

Their influence extends far beyond the Church

and for anyone involved in certain affairs

it's best they owe you favors.

What affairs?

No more questions! For your salvation

as well as our family's,

we'd best leave Mr. Tartuffe in peace.

Madeleine, my love,

I don't know if this will reach you.

I find myself a puppet in a strange adventure.

Not a minute passes that I don't think of you,

my sole desire is to see you and the troupe.

Sir requests that Sir kindly join him in his office.

Here's the text I spoke of.

The one I wish to perform

for... you know who.

I want you to give me your honest opinion.

In this realm I am a sincere man who cannot tell a lie.

All the better.

I don't know whether the style is clear enough.

We shall see.

Moreover, I spent only one hour writing it.

Time has nothing to do with it.

It's a dialogue?

A love dialogue between Zeus, all-powerful god of Mount Olympus,

and Polyxena, a young and beautiful princess.

- Who will play Zeus? - Me.

- And Polyxena? - Myself as well.

What do you think?

To a friend,

who questioned me one day about a text he wrote,

I replied that gentlemen should beware

of the itch to write.

I was wrong to write it?

I didn't say that.

I explained to this friend

how...

an excess of enthusiasm sometimes leads

to exaggeration and affectedness.

My style is awkward?

I didn't say that.

But as I tried to make this friend understand,

when it comes to writing

simplicity is often your best ally.

Very well.

Now be honest, tell me what my text is worth.

Frankly, you can throw it down the toilet.

Very well.

Go on.

- Excuse me? - Go on!

If you're so brilliant, Mr. Moliere,

show us what your quill can do.

I was given very little time.

Time has nothing to do with it.

Well?

I am trying, sir, to sort out my thoughts

in order to express my feelings as clearly as possible.

Speaking from reason rather than passion,

if mine's for the toilet,

yours does not even deserve the name of shit.

In writing, as in all the arts, Mother Nature decides.

Clearly, you are not amongst her chosen ones.

Let us hope you're a more talented actor.

I wish you good night.

Sir!

Might I know who wrote this text?

Did you read it?

Answer me, who wrote this text?

A young playwright.

A young playwright?

Some boy who dabbles in the theater.

He sent me his work hoping I'd sponsor him.

I hope this request receives a favorable response.

You find it of good quality?

Of good quality?

This text is magnificent.

Magnificent. The style might still lack confidence

but the manner in which this man expresses his sentiments

is so honest, so sincere

that as I read it I felt...

I don't know... as if...

As if?

But you disliked it enough to toss it on the floor?

To tell the truth, Madame,

I found it had merit.

But Mr. Tartuffe begged me not to reply

for fear of bringing dishonor upon our family.

Isn't that right?

Yes, my word.

As I indeed explained to Mr. Jourdain,

despite the great literary quality of this text,

the theater in itself

is condemnable, for it leads honest souls astray

with guilt-ridden pleasures such as masquerade, lies and duplicity.

Just as Christ's body is inside the consecrated host

so the Devil dwells within the body of the actor who...

- Quiet! - Thank you.

Before you were born my father took me to see

the greatest actors, who taught me more...

Our dear Dorante!

You're perfectly right, dear.

Let us greet our guest.

Dorante is a man of high quality.

A companion of the King's who honors me with his friendship.

My friend, how are you?

Very well, sir.

My goodness, you're so chic.

The incarnation of good taste.

Madame, beauty and brains in one! How are you?

Holding up, thank you.

Sir.

I'm only dropping by - I know you're a busy man -

but I wanted to settle my debt.

There's no hurry.

You know the exact amount?

Of course, but there's no hurry.

No, I insist.

You insist? Wait, I have my notebook.

You embarrass me. 15,800 pounds. No hurry.

15,800 pounds. Very well.

Add another 200, which you'll give me now

- that makes 16,000 even -

which I will pay you soon.

- Is this a problem? - Not at all.

I could ask others, but you're my best friend.

I didn't want to offend you.

Of course, of course.

Come into my office if you don't mind.

Tell me, how's our little affair coming along?

Our little affair?

What affair?

- You know... - I'm teasing you.

- You're teasing me? - Of course.

It's coming along nicely. The Marquise...

Celimene told me today that she accepts your gift.

I've spent weeks on this.

I know, I know.

I impressed the great beauty of your gift upon her

and she finally gave in.

Do you think she would like this?

You've chosen the correct path to her heart.

Above all, women adore when we spend money on them.

This gift speaks far more of your love

than any words ever could.

Do you think that one day it will be possible

for me to speak to her in person?

Soon, my friend.

Maybe even earlier.

Is Mr. Jourdain so severe that his daughter must use cunning?

I don't know what you mean.

Her correspondence with her admirer.

Sir, please spare my daughter her father's wrath.

I didn't come to torment you,

but to seek peace and reconciliation.

I know I irritate you,

but I'm the first to suffer from the image I must portray

in order to...

How can I put it?

Play the role with which you were entrusted?

You've guessed?

Mr. Tartuffe...

I understood long ago that men of the Church

are for the most part mere actors

who endlessly repeat the same lines

with more or less conviction.

Since I am unmasked, it's not peace I offer you,

but total surrender.

As for the young miss,

what kind of adult could forget his own youthful faults?

You'd be surprised to discover the follies I committed from love.

You, sir?

My heart is not made of stone.

I'm sure of that.

It's always your kind who try to appear so rigid.

"Say but the word and I shall be healed."

Tell me about your follies.

Did I say follies? So little to tell, really.

Tell me anyhow.

Well there was the time I locked up my father's coachman

and took the carriage to meet a lady friend.

But I didn't know how to handle the reins

and got stuck in a narrow lane next to the house.

And one time I used my writing quill

to engrave a sweetheart's name in my flesh.

- What was her name? - Agnes.

But I was only twelve and misspelled it.

Mr. Tartuffe,

I hardly believe what I hear.

A pious man like you!

I might be devout, but I'm no less a man.

And under your spell, I confess my reason

could falter again.

Mr. Tartuffe!

Come here!

Yes, sir! I'm coming.

I'm coming.

Come in, quick!

- You need me? - Yes, to write a note.

I fear my writing style does not please you.

Don't play coy.

Dorante is bringing a gift to my sweet Celimene

and I want to add a well-turned note.

To say what?

"Fair Marquise, your lovely eyes make me die of love."

Only I wish to say it more elegantly.

You could say that...

the flame in her eye devours your heart.

I don't want that.

I want only the words I used:

"Fair Marquise,

"your lovely eyes make me die of love."

Only I wanted a prettier way of putting them.

You can leave them as you said...

Or else:

"Of love, fair Marquise, your lovely eyes make me die."

Or: "Of love, your lovely eyes, Marquise fair, me make die."

"Your lovely eyes, fair Marquise, die of love; make me."

Or yet: "Make me die of love, lovely eyes, your fair Marquise."

Yes, but which is best?

The first one:

"Fair Marquise, your lovely eyes make me die of love."

Incredible!

I got it on the first try.

The first try.

Here.

I'm ashamed to see a man of your position

lowering himself to such tasks.

Easy does it, one would think you're famished.

Seeing you whets my appetite,

you're pretty enough to eat.

A letter for you, Madame.

- From whom? - The Viscount of Chabany.

Here.

Read it to me. I have nothing to hide.

"Madame, deprived of your company, I am literally wasting away.

"My ardor is now a raging fire.

"I am yours, as you shall be mine.

"Louis-Jacques de Mesnil, Viscount of Chabany."

How presumptuous! How vulgar!

He should be whipped.

I think it shows spirit.

Madame, this letter is an insult.

Quite, only certain insults put one's heart in a flutter.

Pardon me, Madame,

for not putting your heart "in a flutter".

Perhaps this will

make up for my shortcomings?

I admit you surprise me greatly.

And you, Madame,

make me suffer greatly.

From what ill, pray tell?

I suffer from your pack of yapping admirers.

You're jealous of everyone.

Everyone is so well received here.

My word, am I to blame if people enjoy my company?

Must I throw them out with insults when they pay visits?

Come now, Dorante,

a woman's desire to please comes before all else.

A frivolous desire, I admit,

but twenty is not an age to behave.

You accuse me of jealousy, yet what do I have

that is mine alone?

The joy of knowing

that you're loved.

I wasn't bred for love on credit.

And I worry about such shows of generosity.

Beware, I'd have no use for a ruined man.

Fear not, Madame,

my plans should protect me from that for years.

Forgive me, I feel ridiculous.

Forget ridicule. Doubt's the enemy.

Continue.

You're a dewdrop, hanging from the tip of a leaf.

A drop of water that is growing larger and heavier.

Now it quivers...

and falls.

It falls, Mr. Jourdain!

- Good. Another one. - That's enough for tonight.

The rattle, the flower, the dewdrop. I'm spent.

Exactly! It's when you're exhausted and can't think anymore

that the work begins.

Come on, let's do...

The horse.

Not the horse.

No, no, no, not the horse!

What are you doing?

The horse.

What horse, please?

Are you "all horses" in one?

Don't you know, like we men

each horse has its own unique character.

You show me a man playing a horse,

not a horse.

Are you an Andalusian?

Fiery and wild...

Or a Selle Français, haughty and noble?

Are you a robust Percheron?

Acting is a profession

of sensitivity, not appearances.

Now, please do the horse.

Rest assured, I'll give it to her in person.

Yes, sir.

Very well, sir. Goodbye.

Madame.

A young man just delivered a letter for you.

For me?

Madame, the compliments with which you've honored my text

only increase the esteem

my heart has felt since I first saw you.

Please grant me a meeting,

I shall be the happiest of men.

I'll wait in the ruins at the back of the estate

at sunset.

It's...

It's a letter...

from a gardener.

He's looking for...

a job... gardening...

in a garden.

What was the young man like?

My word, a fine figure of a man.

Elegant but simple,

handsome with regular features.

Is that all?

I barely got a glimpse.

Yes. Of course.

Thank you.

Madame...

Sir...

Madame...

I am delighted to meet you.

And I, Madame, am overjoyed.

Your text aroused in me

emotions I thought forever extinguished.

My audacity was not a sin?

To the contrary,

your audacity

obliged modesty

to free the sentiments it so often smothers.

As I listen to you, modesty returns,

you make me blush...

Your mind, sir,

shows great sensibility.

My mind is nothing,

it's my heart which spoke.

Your heart?

My quill was guided by your beauty,

without you I could not have written.

Oh Sir,

you've touched me

deeply.

Which is why...

Here.

No, Madame.

It's to help you.

That is not what nourishes me.

Forgive me this disguise,

for reasons I cannot reveal, my identity must remain secret.

Sir, I'm...

It is I, Madame, who am overjoyed.

Your text aroused emotions in me...

I know. What matter if I sinned? I listened to my heart.

Sir, I came because...

Because my text touched you deeply, I know...

What do you mean, "I know"?

I find you rather smug.

What I meant to say is that your beauty...

I will not allow you.

As for your text, my words have surely been distorted.

It's not bad, but the sentiments it conveys are rather naïve.

How dare you, sir!

I thought that's what you wanted.

What I wanted?

What planet are you from?

- I thought... - You thought wrong.

This is for your trouble.

I wish you good luck.

You're burning it? I thought the author pleased you.

On reflection, I find the style heavy and pretentious.

I understand.

- No, you don't understand. - Yes, I do.

- No. - Yes.

Mr. Tartuffe...

what interest is it to you?

It does interest me, Madame.

You seem tormented.

I was in peace until you came.

Your presence is my only torment.

Your only torment?

Are you sure?

Leave me alone.

- I only wanted... - Leave me!

What's going on here?

Well, Madame?

I don't want him in our house any longer.

Ask him to leave, please.

I've already explained...

Mr. Tartuffe is not a holy man.

- What do you mean? - He's not what he pretends.

What makes you say that?

Yesterday,

in the garden...

he said inappropriate things.

Oh?

What do you mean, "Oh"?

I meant to say, "is that all?"

He made advances to me.

Advances?

Are you sure?

Sir, I'm telling you!

You must have misunderstood.

You don't believe me?

Very well.

Very well.

- Hide here. - This is absurd.

It's like a bad play.

Hide, I said!

And listen carefully.

This is ridiculous.

Ridiculous!

I'll have to play along

to trick him into betraying himself.

But it's you who forces me.

Don't leave me in a predicament.

Stop the game when your conviction is firm.

Do you hear me?

Yes.

You called me? Perfect, for I too must explain.

I owe you an apology.

An apology?

I lost my temper with you earlier. I regret it.

- I alone a.m. responsible. - No, I am.

I am.

I refused to listen to your words

as well as to my heart.

Your heart, Madame?

Yes.

I am two times guilty.

First I upset you,

then I did not even try to console you.

Who are you speaking to?

To you, Mr. Tartuffe.

- You're joking. - You doubt me?

You're always so distant with him... with me.

Come now, sir...

Do you not know the fair sex?

Certain "no's" are in fact "yes's"

that need time to flower.

- I think... - Think no more.

I always think, I can't help it.

Here, thank you for your concern.

As I attempt to explain, I am...

I am...

Well, sir,

since you remain insensitive to my advances

and my charms have no effect,

return to your prayers.

Good night, sir.

Good night.

What were you trying to prove, in fact?

Who are you?

Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, aka Moliere, at your service.

- Why are you here? - To earn my living.

I am an actor.

An actor?

Yes, an actor.

And director of a bankrupt troupe of players.

Does my husband know?

No, I lied to him.

He thinks he hired a private tutor, devout to boot.

Yes.

Dinner is served.

Madame...

Sir.

Madeleine, my friend,

things are more complicated than expected.

I'm detained by this affair, which I'll explain later.

I think often of you and our troupe.

Never say that word, Thomas!

I'll say it, Father, because...

Quiet! I don't want to hear it.

I want to work!

I want to work, Father.

I want to put my education to use,

to earn money in trade.

In this house one does not earn money, one marries it.

Work...

how pathetic!

Serve lunch without me, I won't be back before afternoon.

Father, Mother, what perfect timing!

Please meet Mr. Valere,

my singing instructor.

Your humble servant.

You're interested in singing now? This is news.

No, Father, it's a very old liking.

Did you know about this?

Yes, in effect.

Well.

- Let's see this lesson. - Pardon?

I wish to watch your lesson for myself.

Madame, I love you so

Do not resist my passion...

My sentiments are the same

Please fear not loving me...

Yet this inflexible father

How to soften such rigor?

Though his fury is frightening

I know the path to his heart...

Madame, I love you

I swear I'll love you forever...

I'll love you the same

To the end of my days...

I love you...

Enough!

No rhythm, no harmony,

and pitiful lyrics.

Daughter, find yourself a better teacher.

Sir?

Sir.

Excuse me for making you wait.

The count is impatient indeed, for he has good news.

Good news. Really?

About a meeting, you said.

Yes, a meeting.

- A most anticipated one. - That's it.

Is it possible? Could it be...

One and the same.

No later than tomorrow, you said?

Tomorrow?

Please excuse us.

She liked my diamond?

The word is feeble, she almost fainted.

She repeated your name all night, hugging the stone to her breast.

- Show me. - Excuse me?

Show me. Play Celimene so that I can imagine her.

Well...

She was like this...

I can't do it,

but believe me, it touched her deeply.

I shall finally speak to her.

You've made me so happy,

so very happy.

Did I tell you my son Thomas is back from university?

No, you never mentioned your boy to me.

Boy...

A man already.

The only thing left to confirm it is a marriage.

If only he could find

a young woman in the region

worthy of the title of Countess.

Countess... a title any father would wish for his daughter.

What do you insinuate?

You mean, your daughter and my son?

Interesting.

Audacious but interesting.

Fine then, let's marry them.

And our bonds of friendship will become family ties.

Game.

It's very strange.

These dogs usually know to avoid

the line of fire.

Let us not speak of it.

In my opinion,

his training lacked rigor.

I said, let us not speak of it.

Concerning the marriage...

We'll see about that later.

Very well.

Madame, I love you so

Do not resist my passion...

My sentiments are the same

Please fear not loving me...

Singing is a condemnable activity

for it leads honest souls astray

with the guilt-ridden pleasures of happiness and love.

Thank you, Mr. Tartuffe.

We need a bit of rigor around here.

And hide your breasts!

- Lackey! - Yes, sir.

- No, the other lackey. - Yes, sir.

- The music teacher's here? - Yes.

- Since when? - 15 hours ago.

Let him wait.

Our dear Dorante!

A man of high quality, a friend of the King!

The King, you hear me?

Mr. Jourdain, how chic!

No lie, the incarnation of good taste!

My dear friend, Dorante.

You think so?

Good Jourdain!

What a good Jourdain!

He's so cute, so cute...

Forgive me, Madame,

I got carried away.

You have true talent.

Don't make fun of me.

I'm not. You were born to make people laugh.

I said I got carried away. It's a flaw of mine.

I ask you to forget it.

You don't want to play comedies?

Now what have I said to hurt you?

Acting is a serious art that deserves respect.

Was I disrespectful?

Yes. You confound farce and theater.

Theater, Madame, is far greater, nobler and more essential

than what I've shown you here.

Very well.

Show me.

"This empire

"absolute

"on land and on sea...

Very well. Please leave me, I believe it's late.

Come now!

Is it my fault you bleat like a goat that's lost its family?

Perhaps tragedy calls for a sensitivity you do not possess.

Spare me your superior airs.

I know what touches me and what bores me.

Your pranks are more touching than any tragedy.

No, Madame. It's impossible.

Impossible?

Why?

Because comedy - of which you are so fond -

relies on mechanical effects.

Tragedy explores the infinite complexity of the human soul.

Then play comedies that explore it.

- They do not exist. - Then invent them!

You know which evil gnaws at you?

Pride.

The important thing

is to earn a living with your art.

Practice your profession.

Take to the road,

travel the countryside.

Play comedies in every town, every hamlet!

Make them laugh.

That's how you'll make a name.

The rest will follow in time.

Madame, I...

Come away with me.

It's impossible.

Nothing's impossible.

There's only what one wants and doesn't want.

Then tell yourself I don't want to.

So that's it?

What?

You like to seduce young men, excite them with your words

and shove them scalding hot between your thighs?

Remember, your meeting must appear coincidental.

I'm so impregnated with its coincidental nature

that I don't even know it's going to happen.

It's a method I use to prepare.

And don't mention the presents you've given her.

Notably the diamond.

Why not?

It's so terribly vulgar.

An elegant man pretends his gifts are insignificant.

Yes, of course.

You can count on me.

Look who we have here.

Marquise,

what a pleasure to see you.

Till now, this was a mere garden.

And now what is it?

A showcase, Madame.

Allow me to introduce my friend,

Mr. Jourdain.

Madame.

Madame, it is a great distinction for me

to have the good fortune to be so happy

that you've been so good as to accord me the honor

of honoring me with

the favor of this coincidental encounter.

The honor is mine, sir.

You've never spoken of your friend.

Some friends are so dear one would rather not share them.

To seduce this mercenary, you must have hidden talents.

I see beauty touches you.

You have beautiful hands, Madame.

My hands are mediocre, surely you mean the diamond.

Not at all.

The diamond is not much to speak of.

Honestly.

May I, Madame,

abuse your kindness and visit your salon soon

to perform a play

I had the audacity of writing in your honor.

Mr. Jourdain, this is no doubt rather fast.

I'll know how to be slow when the time comes.

My goodness, yes. If you wish.

Come visit one day.

Stay with us, Dorante.

Good day, sir.

You deserve to be whipped for what you said.

I know...

We're no longer children, Jean-Baptiste.

I know...

My place is here. Not with a troupe of actors.

Well?

My dear wife, what news?

The kitten died.

Where is Henriette?

In the garden, I believe.

I have news for her, follow me.

Sir!

That's my daughter.

He's making love to her!

- A mere kiss. - Don't play with words.

Sir,

it's my fault, your daughter did nothing.

Father, I let him, he'd never have dared.

No, I'm the guilty one.

- Don't listen to him... - Get to the point.

Sir,

I solemnly request Henriette's hand.

Are you a gentleman?

I beg your pardon?

Are you a gentleman? Do you have a title?

- No, but... - Then she's not for you.

Disappear!

My daughter,

I've come to announce your engagement to Thomas,

our friend Dorante's son.

It's agreed. We must just set a date.

- Kiss me. - This will not be.

It will be.

You'll not reduce me to this.

I shall indeed.

I'll kill myself.

You will not kill yourself.

Do you wish to break her heart?

Why force a husband on her?

We're not in need, are we?

I have enough money, I want a title. She'll become a Countess.

A Countess!

Countess. And if you make me angry, it'll be Duchess.

I am touched, Madame, by this courtesy visit.

Courtesy has nothing to do with it.

- I came to talk business. - Business?

How much do you want to call off this marriage?

What do you mean? My son...

Your son has no business with my daughter

if not to satisfy your greed.

I ask you my question once again:

how much?

We shall have to give it some serious thought.

The northern façade is cracked...

The roof leaks everywhere...

Windows need replacing, there are over 300 of them!

30,000 pounds.

30,000 pounds by tomorrow? Why did you agree?

I was desperate!

- Do you have any money? - A little.

2,000 pounds.

Calm down.

Calm down.

- We'll find a way. - How?

Tomorrow morning...

No!

This afternoon...

This afternoon you'll go out with your daughter.

You'll say you're going

for a stroll... A stroll in the forest. No!

Around the port.

Tell your husband that Henriette needs the ocean air.

- I don't understand. - Patience.

In fact, you won't go to the port.

You'll go...

You'll go to the ruins.

I'll tell Valere, he'll be waiting for you.

You'll entrust him with your daughter. And then...

Then, Madame, you'll have to become an actress.

Help! Help!

Please!

For the love of God!

What's wrong? Calm down.

Oh Sir,

it's so horrible.

- Henriette... - What about Henriette!

My little girl...

Speak, Madame, tell me!

We were at the port

when the captain of a galley invited us aboard.

Oh my God...

He ordered the moorings to be raised

and set out to sea...

- Oh my God! - Prisoners of bandits!

Oh my God!

They brought me ashore in a rowboat

to collect a ransom.

Should I fail, the galley departs tonight for Africa,

where she'll be sold as a slave.

How much is the ransom?

50,000 pounds.

50,000 pounds?

What's she doing on that galley?

Time is short, we must gather the sum.

50,000 pounds!

Do they know what that means?

They know, sir.

Why did she do this?

Quick, sir, I beg of you.

- Couldn't she have gone elsewhere? - Surely.

Blasted galley!

You're right, Madame.

Wait for me here, I'll get the money.

How was I?

Why 50,000 pounds?

Dorante only asked for 30,000.

How else will we survive with your troupe?

We?

Dry your tears, your husband will take care of it.

Here.

But you tell those pirates...

Daughter?

You're freed?

Freed of Valere, who's a fool and a lout.

And the galley?

I should prefer it to him!

Well?

It was a misunderstanding.

A misunderstanding?

Yes.

They were at odds over their future plans.

At odds over what?

Over what to name their child.

Your daughter ruined everything! A plague on her bad character!

I forbid you to say that.

Madame,

your daughter sealed her fate.

What can we do now?

- I must stay with her. - And us?

What about us?

Your father said you studied law?

- Trade law, to be exact. - What a fine idea.

I wanted a son to bequeath my business to.

How is business?

- I can't complain. - You're wrong.

Our laws are reprehensible,

business in France is impossible.

But I have concrete ideas

on ways to increase profits.

Thomas, I fear this conversation could lead to boredom.

Not at all, please continue.

Did you know you could save on labor costs

by setting up shop in Spain, where people

earn four times less.

In Spain!

And why not China?

One of our ancestors was a merchant.

Is this true?

No.

Yes, Father.

- No. - Yes.

- No. - Yes.

- No. - Yes.

No, no, no! Nasty rumors! He was never a merchant! Never!

The simple truth is, he had a flair for fabrics,

which he had made in large quantities for his friends.

In exchange for a sum of money.

He was never a merchant.

What do you think?

Did you relish the way I delivered my lines?

Yes, yes.

Honestly, I think I'm ready.

Let it be said now,

either I triumph tomorrow at Celimene's

or you shall find me dead drunk in a tavern.

There you are. I've looked everywhere for you.

We have so many things to settle before the marriage.

Hang the marriage!

What did you say?

What's wrong?

I failed miserably.

What do you mean?

- She didn't like my play! - Pure fantasy.

- I said... - All lies.

Not one person applauded! That's a sign.

Granted, a sign of respect.

- What did you say? - You were greatly admired.

You made a true impression. Applause was inappropriate.

I overheard whispering.

When faced with true beauty,

does one not wish to share it?

- I saw people yawning. - Are you sure?

Were they not sighs of pleasure?

Of ecstasy?

No, really,

you misinterpreted the reactions.

After you left, certain ladies

even requested your presence at their salons.

Really?

You think so?

Mr. Jourdain,

your play has made you the darling of high society!

The darling of high society? Really?

The darling of high society...

People sighed with ecstasy.

I worked hard, but it's really all thanks to you,

Mr. Moliere.

What's wrong?

I cannot accept this.

What about our contract?

I won her admiration, the Beauty has been conquered,

what more do you want? - Results.

I'm satisfied, I tell you.

Yes, so you tell me. Yet...

Yet?

Well...

words may not reveal the heart.

If only there were some way I could see into Celimene's mind.

Perhaps there is...

Tell me.

No, it's too complicated.

You'd never accept...

Didn't Aristotle himself prove that...

Spare us, Marquis.

Stop using Aristotle like an umbrella to hide under!

The image is amusing,

yet one must choose masters.

Or would you have us solve the world's problems alone?

I believe one must not forget to think critically.

Constant repetition

makes of one a blindfolded donkey.

Madame,

a gentleman has arrived.

A gentleman? What's his name?

He wouldn't say.

Why such mystery? Show him in.

Very well, Madame.

Please excuse my unusual entrance

but I was loath to dirty my boots

in our mud-ridden, rain-sodden streets.

Allow me to pay you my most humble respects.

Happily, once I know whom they're from.

Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, Marquis, at your service.

Your entrance did not lack bravado,

but I'd be grateful to discover the object of your visit.

Your reputation is like a magnet one cannot resist.

Merit has such allure that I seek it wherever I can.

As regards merit perhaps, that much we have in common.

But your reputation I don't know.

I came here in order to make up for this.

What better place, I say.

I'm not one to resist attacks of friendship.

Please have a seat. - I bullied my way in here,

I won't abuse your chairs.

It's our time you mustn't abuse.

Your remarkable entrance surprised us...

I'm not one of those pompous persons

who come and recite their poems uninvited.

If you have verses for us, we'd be delighted!

We love literature.

Well, since you ask,

here's something that comes to mind

which I dedicate to you...

"I was not on my guard

"As I gazed at you with no thoughts of evil

"Your eye approached on the sly

"And ran off with my heart.

"Thief! Thief! Thief! Thief!"

What angel sent you to make us laugh like this?

We're so dreadfully starved for entertainment.

What, Madame?

I thought the greatest minds jostled their way in here.

If you knew what we endured.

It's often a draw between boredom and the grotesque.

People jostle, yes,

only to declare their unwanted passion.

Like that poor Mr. Jourdain.

Mr. Jourdain... you say?

Imagine a farmyard rooster

disguised as a pheasant,

sputtering rhymes in my face a child of eight

would no longer dare read.

You see my predicament.

Then the oaf gazes stupidly at me hoping to be loved in return.

As if I could possibly be interested

in every uncouth merchant and farmer

who aspires to become a marquis.

How right you are, Madame.

How clever your mind is

at unmasking our weaknesses.

The truth be told, I admire you.

I thought it was your intelligence that made you

an exceptional being.

I realize now it's only your upbringing that gives you style

for your soul is entirely devoted to cruelty.

You amuse your suite with jokes about those who are absent.

But I say it is

an insult to your beauty,

your intelligence and your rank

that you're incapable of stating

what you truly think to one's face.

You used the donkey as an example...

An animal that waits until you're not looking

to kick you.

I shall go now, Madame,

and leave you to bray about me in my absence.

Madame!

I guarantee you, the marriage is off.

Believe me, that rascal Dorante is in a tight spot now.

You lied to me!

Shamelessly! With no scruples!

You lied from the start! You used me.

Yes.

I lied to you about Celimene's sentiments.

But answer me honestly,

blind as you were, would you have accepted the truth?

Forget about all this, let's think of the marriage.

This isn't the moment to evoke the marriage.

Quite the contrary, I think it's urgent we proceed.

Mr. Jourdain...

imagine the disastrous consequences

that breaking off this engagement

with me would have for you.

I am particularly well placed at Court.

Your reputation,

already tarnished

by this regrettable affair with the Marquise,

could be totally destroyed.

Elmire?

You were looking for me?

Yes.

My husband?

The wedding takes place tonight.

Tonight?

Tell Mr. Tartuffe I want to see him.

We wish to be left alone.

He wants to see you.

The wedding takes place tonight.

You wished to see me?

My wife has a lover.

Pardon me?

My wife has a lover. I just discovered it.

Do you know who it is?

What matter if he's the cook

or a marshal of France, the facts are the same.

Not only have I been humiliated by the one I pursue,

I've been cuckolded

by the one I neglected.

Mr. Jourdain...

your wife's lover,

what would you do if he were here right now?

What would I do?

I'd strangle him,

slash his guts, rip his heart out.

I understand your anger.

But if he were right here in front of you?

Would you listen to him?

I'd listen to him let out his last sigh.

Is that really what you'd do,

if he were here before you?

If I were able to contain my hatred,

maybe I'd listen to him.

He has some advice for you.

Advice, really?

Yes, sir. Cancel the wedding.

I don't see...

Your wife's happiness is her daughter's happiness.

This man can't give her that. Only you can.

I cannot cancel it.

In that case...

Wait!

Let's say I found a way...

would this man give me back my wife?

Give her back? Your wife does not belong to him.

No more than she does to you.

Then I expect him to retire.

I expect him to give up my wife

and disappear forever.

Will the bride please step forward.

Mr. Jourdain!

What's going on? What's wrong?

A terrible catastrophe, sir! Your warehouses burned down!

My warehouses? Which ones?

All of them! Destroyed. All is lost!

You are ruined!

Nothing shall stop this wedding.

Please continue, we'll shed tears later.

My word, I don't know, we mustn't rush into things.

I'm ruined, who cares!

Your estate will suffice for us all.

And I say we should take some time to think it over.

An odd coincidence.

What do you insinuate?

It's nothing to do with this.

Your daughter is always mulish and pouting.

Have we committed some fault?

I want a loving and good-natured woman for my son.

If Henriette doesn't want him, we don't want her.

I am your servant, sir.

And I am your valet.

I kiss your hand.

- You promised she'd be mine! - I take it back.

Congratulations, you played to perfection.

I only followed your method.

If Sir no longer needs me...

To the contrary, stay with us.

You don't think I'd pay for a wedding

and not have it?

One son-in-law departs, so be it.

Let the next one enter.

Come now! At least wait till you pronounce your vows.

You're leaving?

Yes, Madame.

I...

My honor demands it.

Your honor?

And what does your heart say?

I don't know.

You don't know?

No.

What do you advise?

I advise you to save your honor.

- That is your advice? - Indeed.

Then, Madame, it is advice I shall heed.

It should not be painful for you.

No more than giving it was for you.

I wish you a good journey.

Madeleine, I swore I'd return

and here I am!

I'll be in Paris within days.

Gather the troupe and pack your bags, I have plans.

We're going to travel.

Hang Paris and its chimeras! Hang creditors!

We must practice our profession.

We'll travel the countryside for months, years if necessary.

We'll play in every town, every village, every hamlet!

We'll make a name for ourselves,

the rest will follow in time.

Ladies,

you'll be surprised, no doubt, by the audacity of my visit.

I was not on my guard

As I gazed at you with no thoughts of evil

Your eye approached on the sly

And ran off with my heart.

Thief! Thief! Thief!

Thief!

I find this "oh" oh so...

admirable.

I don't want that, only the words I used.

Fair Marquise, your lovely eyes make me die of love.

Of love, fair Marquise, your lovely eyes make me die.

Or: Of love, your lovely eyes, Marquise fair, me make die.

Or: Your lovely eyes, fair Marquise, die of love, make me.

Or: Make me die of love, lovely eyes, your fair Marquise.

Yes, but which one is best?

500 ecus?

Yes, sir! And he only gave me two hours.

What was she doing on that galley?

You're right, hurry up!

Couldn't she go elsewhere?

No doubt.

Blasted galley!

He loves his galley.

Blasted galley! Traitors! Devils all of them!

Madame...

Sir...

Madame.

Sir.

I cannot tell you

how much I regret the manner in which events...

There's nothing to regret.

The tears I shed

were little indeed compared to the joy I felt

when I heard what you'd become.

Deliver me

from the pain that's eaten away at me for years,

which neither success nor applause have relieved.

Grant me your forgiveness.

For what am I to forgive you?

For having saved my daughter from a bad marriage?

For having opened my husband's eyes

and making of him a repentant man?

For having allowed me to see my grandchildren grow up?

As you wish.

I forgive you all that.

Come now, Mr. Moliere,

tragedy never was your strong point.

Dry your tears

and make me laugh

for my few remaining hours.

I'm afraid the situation is no laughing matter.

You're wrong.

Unhappiness has comic aspects one should never underestimate.

How could I joke about that which makes me weep?

This type of comedy does not exist.

Well then,

invent it.

I just learned some fine news of which I was unaware.

What?

You shall wed Mr. Tartuffe.

My father certainly has this plan in his head.

What does your soul say?

I don't know.

You don't know.

No.

What do you advise?

I advise you to stay with your husband.

- That's your advice? - Indeed.

Then it's advice I shall heed.

It shouldn't be painful for you.

No more than giving it was for you.

I only wanted to make you happy.

And to make you happy I'll follow it.

Come now, stop your silly banter!

Lovers are mad!

And you two love each other more than you know!

Translation: Julie Meyer DVD Subtitling: CNST, Montreal