All language subtitles for Moliere.2007.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC5.1-[YTS.MX]

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