All language subtitles for Immortal.Beloved.1994.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG

Ludwig van Beethoven, the man
who inherited and increased...

...the immortal fame
of Handel and Bach...

...of Haydn and Mozart...

...is now no more.

He was an artist.
And who will stand beside him?

He was an artist.

And what he was,
he was only through music.

The thorns of life
had wounded him deeply.

So he held fast to his art...

...even when the gate through
which it entered was shut.

Music spoke through
a deafened ear...

...to he who could
no longer hear it.

He carried the music in his heart.

Because he shut himself off from
the world, they called him hostile.

They said he was unfeeling
and called him callous.

But he was not hard of heart.

It is the finest blades
that are most easily blunted...

...bent or broken.

He withdrew from his fellow man
after he had given them everything...

...and had received
nothing in return.

He lived alone because
he found no second self.

Thus he was. Thus he died.

Thus he will live for all time.

Which one of you is the thief?!

Produce the money,
or I will have you arrested!

Then arrest me!

I took him in when nobody--
Nobody could bear his company.

And now you want to get paid--

-Bank shares.
-Give that to me!

The money is mine!

Here. Here is his will.

"I declare that my
brothers, Caspar and Johann...

...are the heirs to my fortune,
if so it can be called."

As Caspar is long dead,
that leaves me. Just me!

Well, give me my money!

Answer!

-This is his final testament.
-What?

"All my music and all
the capital of my estate...

...shall go to my sole heir,
my lmmortal Beloved."

Signed, Ludwig van Beethoven.

A letter is enclosed.

This is....

Come on, now. Don't keep me
in suspense. Who is it?

-Nobody.
-Oh, not so.

The letter bears no name.

"To my Immortal Beloved."

"My angel, my all, my other self."

The maestro was
nursing a secret passion.

I never heard such
words from his lips.

Who could this be?

The only love he held
was for himself.

I suffered his insults, his temper.

I suffered in silence when he
spat the food I made back in my face.

-That money is ours!
-It is not.

It doesn't matter anymore.
He is gone.

We have his music.

Destroy this letter.

It would only show
his disordered life to the world.

It's his dying wish.

We owe him at least that.

You have no authority in this matter.

I have his authority.

Still the faithful dog, huh?

He was my friend.

-What friend would be so cruel?
-What brother so uncaring?

You know nothing of my brother!

Take me to Karlsbad.

"My angel, my all, my other self.

Just a few words today,
and that in pencil. Yours.

Only tomorrow will I know where I am
to stay. A worthless waste of time.

Why this deep sorrow?

If we could be united, we
would feel this pain no longer."

Good afternoon, sir.

-Good afternoon, Frau...?
-Streicher.

Herr Schindler.

Let me find your reservation.

I'm afraid I don't
have a reservation.

No matter. We have always room
for a gentleman such as yourself.

Is this the address of this hotel?

One moment.

Yeah, of course.

Do you know the name
Ludwig van Beethoven?

-The composer?
-Yes.

I knew him.

Did he ever stay here?

-Are you a policeman?
-No. No, no, no.

Then I will not
answer your questions.

Please. I'm trying
to conclude his affairs.

Van Beethoven is dead.

Alas, yes.

Best thing for him.
He was a terrible man.

Then he stayed here?

A long time ago,
too long to remember.

I can remember only the damage.

The damage?

I was never paid for the damage.

He smashed it all up. Everything.

There was a chair, three florins.

Window, five.
I had to paint everything.

Frau Streicher...

...would this be sufficient?

There was a woman.

We had been expecting
Herr van Beethoven for days.

She came instead.

She said he was to join her.

She registered in his room.

Under what name?

Illegible.

Then there was this
terrible storm, a deluge.

The woman hid in her room...

...waiting...

...ashamed to show
her face, I'd say.

And then the letter arrived.

You opened the letter.

I had to. How else
would I know who it was for?

I only read his signature.

"My angel, my all, my other self.

Just a few words...

...and that in pencil...."

I sent it to her room at once.

She can't have
liked what she read.

She left at once, right away.

Left without a word to anybody.

And then, of course,
Herr van Beethoven arrives.

When he found she
was gone, he went mad.

He was like a madman.

Threw a chair out of the window.

I called the police.
I was frightened of him.

Herr van Beethoven!

Open up!

Aye, here is her signature.

Is that a "J" or a "G"?

It looks more like an "A" to me.

She was haughty, like a countess.

What did she look like?

Never got a proper look at her.

I don't think she
wanted to be recognized.

Herr Schindler.

Lock the door.

-But countess--
-Lock the door.

We must not be disturbed.

Not everything
they say about me is true.

Holz was here with
the other one, the weasel.

Johann.

How could Luigi
have such a vile brother?

I hope they were in good health.

They say you have
stolen Luigi's money.

They seemed to think
you would come here.

Why? I told them nothing.

The price for my silence
is that you must tell me everything.

I'm afraid that's impossible.

It falls upon me to interrogate you.

And why should I submit to that?

-That is what he wanted.
-Who?

The maestro.

What I shall tell you
will never leave this room.

On my word of honour, contessa.

There is substance to the rumours.

I was the great love of Luigi's life.

I first heard the name Beethoven
when I was 17.

I had heard that
his music aroused such passion...

...as to be dangerous.

Some thought it obscene
and unsuitable for the young.

I wrote to my cousins,
Therese and Josephine.

They lived in Vienna...

...the great music
capital of the world.

Surely they would know more.

Indeed, they did.

They knew him intimately.

More intimately than
they admitted at the time.

Most nights, I dreamt of him...

...and then Father
was posted to Vienna.

We were invited to
Prince Lichnowsky's palace...

...for a musical evening.

Beethoven was going to be there.

I knew he must be so noble,
so refined in feeling, so cultured.

I could hardly wait.
I was going to hear him play.

That music affected me
like none I had ever heard before.

And as for Beethoven...

...I was soon overcome.
I feared I might faint.

Hello.

I didn't see you.

I have to go back.

You are leaving me
to listen to that ass...

...who plays like a kitchen maid,
all clipped and staccato?

This music is beautiful.

I was told that
the Viennese had superior taste.

Clearly, in your case,
it is not true.

You must be Julia Guicciardi.

I hear there's quite
a contest for your charms.

Sir, you are rude
and offensive. I am leaving.

-Do you play the piano?
-What?

I intend to be your teacher.

I shall call for you tomorrow at 10.

You shall be
barred from the house.

I could not believe the outrage.

This ugly man, surely a servant,
had called at the front door.

I have an appointment.

She has a piano.

Julia.

A gentleman is here to see you.
He says he is your new music teacher.

There's been a mistake.
This man is a common oaf.

He accosted me last night.
Send him away at once.

I will not! It would be a shame
on our household.

Sir? Sir? Sir?

May I present Ludwig van Beethoven.

So you must attend my next recital.

I heard you last week.

I remember.

The music was beautiful.

Surely not that bad.

I found the playing exquisite.

It's that damn Beethoven
I can't stand.

People only claim to admire
his stuff so as not to seem--

My dear husband, don't confirm
your stupidity in front of the guests.

Julia.

We all speak frankly here.

Tell us your opinion.

Heavens, no.
I was not looking for flattery.

It was too clipped and staccato.
There was not enough singing tone.

Julia, as you can see, is being
taught by the maestro himself.

-What?
-He comes every day to the house.

Every day?

Is that wise?

Why do you say that?

He's a harsh teacher.

He's a scoundrel and a Republican.

It is said that he's
a follower of Napoleon.

He'd have us all in
the arms of Madame la Guillotine.

He travels in polite society...

...on his reputation as a virtuoso,
but flies into a fit...

...if anyone even dares suggest
he sit at the keyboard.

Why would he no longer play?

Beethoven is a strange
and obstinate man.

He says it makes him
feel like a servant...

...and he serves no masters.

But he takes the money.

You think because l did not
stop you, that l am not listening.

A mistake is nothing.

But the fact that you
thump out the notes...

...without the least sensitivity
to their meaning is unforgivable.

And your lack
of passion is unforgivable.

I shall have to beat you.

I am writing a new symphony.

It will cause a scandal
because of its subject.

-Tell me.
-Here, take my arm.

Luigi!

They should make way for us,
not us for them.

Their days are over.
Your world is finished!

Oh, shut up!

When I was boy, they would've
had you arrested for less.

But now they are scared of
what is happening in France.

You know why wigs
went out of fashion?

Why?

Because too many ended up
in the bottom of baskets.

But I am a countess too, Luigi.

They are scared.

Scared of Napoleon.

And that is why Napoleon
is the subject of my symphony.

Julia, I have here
a proposal of marriage...

...from a composer.

Count Gallenburg.

You were thinking of Beethoven?
Julia...

...the gossip is everywhere.

He also has proposed.

Then there is no contest.

-You love Beethoven?
-Yes.

I cannot give my consent.

We are not wealthy, Julia.

He is a man without rank,
fortune or permanent engagement.

His character and temperament
are so peculiar...

...I doubt any
would find happiness with him.

-He's a genius.
-Perhaps.

But in the last year, he has not
played nor published a single note.

There are those who say there
is some infirmity that prevents him.

Untrue gossip. Lies!

Has he played for you?

No.

We made a bargain. If I could
prove Luigi could still play...

...Father would give his consent.

Obviously a fine countess.

Dear brother, you are
going up in the world.

Hand it over, you ignoramus.

As your secretary, it
is my solemn duty to read this.

"Beloved Luigi: My father
has taken delivery...

...of a new pianoforte
from Broadwood in London.

It is of the latest design
and is the first of its kind in Vienna.

Tomorrow morning, I will send away
the servants, and we shall all be out.

I have done this so that you might
try this new invention undisturbed."

Luigi.

What is the meaning of this?

-What kind of trick have you played?
-Stop it.

Herr Beethoven,
I beg you, calm down.

Now I see.

I see perfectly.

A little test!

Luigi, wait!

It is terrible!

Terrible to rob me in this way
of my most treasured feelings!

Luigi, Father can go to hell!
I'll be your wife!

Julia, it's no use.
He can't hear you.

He's deaf!

A month later,
I married Count Gallenburg.

And you never
heard from him again.

He wrote to me.

It was after the war.
There had been some...

...unpleasantness.

It was a bad time.

They who think me hostile,
obstinate or misanthropic...

...how unjust they are to me.

For they do not know
the secret reason I appear that way.

It is not possible for
me to say, "Speak louder."

"Shout. I am deaf."

How can I live if
my enemies, who are many...

...believe I no longer
possess the one sense...

...that should be perfect to
a higher degree in me than in others?

Not so fast.

So, what will you do?

See every shallow countess
Ludwig gave a dedication to?

They are all liars
who want a piece of him now.

I have the lady's signature.

I shall study his correspondence
to find the hand that matches.

It is illegible.
You are wasting your time.

-No court will uphold this nonsense.
-Help me, then.

Are you mad? Help you to cheat me?

I will tell you this:

There is no lady at
the end of your search.

Ludwig was a woman-hater. Look at
how he behaved with Johanna.

He had every right. Your brother
took a bride of low character.

You are too much under
Ludwig's influence to see the truth.

He wanted Caspar under his thumb...

...running his errands.

He hated Johanna
because she took him away.

There she is.

She is so beautiful.

A marvellous creature.

She will be mine.

So you will betray me for that?

Where is your book? Here.

"Willingly."

She can be bought.
All women can be bought.

You are insulting the woman I love.

At first, it will be all enticements.

-Then, snap, the trap shuts.
-No.

There's always a price to pay.

I would never betray you
for one of those creatures.

Brothers, l have some news,
wonderful news.

She has finally consented.

-You are to be wed?
-Yes!

You explain to him. May I...

...present my bride?

Is this a joke?

You cannot be serious.

By all means, copulate with her.

But marriage? What for?

You will be a laughingstock.

Every farmhand in the region
has enjoyed her for free.

Why should you pay more?

I know you cannot hear me,
and I don't care.

What I have to say
is for Caspar, not you.

I have had lovers...

...but that is not a crime.

Come, I told you it was impossible.

I only want what is right.

He was jealous of his brother.

Why, she will destroy him.

Jealous of his happiness.

I'm Ludwig van Beethoven,
and I need your help.

Break the door down.

What are you playing at?

Arrest that whore.

-Don't touch her!
-Arrest that whore!

That is slander.

We were married yesterday.

And she is with child.

Now, leave!

He behaved no better
when I married Therese.

He wanted us both
at his beck and call.

Give up the search.

I cannot.

I have my reasons.

I will find this lady.

And she will claim her legacy
with the full force of the law.

"The journey was dreadful.

The coach had to go and
break down on such a terrible road...

...and for no reason,
just a country road.

I have to see you.

However much you love me...

...I love you more.

Never hide yourself from me."

Excuse me, I'm looking
for the Countess Erdödy.

I'm looking for
the Countess Erdödy.

Schindler. You do not recognise me?

Please sit. Join me for dinner.

Countess--

Anna Marie. These are
my people. I'm home now.

I don't have to play the countess.
I'm free.

Poor Louis.

I miss him so much.

His death has left a void.

The way they treated him...

...disgusted me.

He was too good for them.

His fire offended their small brains.

But not you.

I could match his temperament.

You gave him rooms at your palace?

I wanted him near me.

Was he your lover?

Horns!

Clarinets!

From the beginning.

From the beginning!

That was how I met Louis...

...and how the world
learned of his deafness.

I was separated from my husband.

I lived an independent life
in Vienna with my three children.

I will arrange a housekeeper.

Please.

I had one.

She cheated me.

We had thought of Napoleon
as a liberator...

...a force for change.

Now we saw the truth.

Bonaparte had
declared himself emperor...

...and set out to conquer the world.

He said he brought
freedom from the tyranny of kings.

But he was Saturn,
gobbling up his children.

His cannon fired night and day...

...on the city of Vienna.

Mimi!

There is a strange gentleman
here to see you.

I cannot receive anybody.

I think he's deaf.

He will not go away.

The countess will see you now.

Your son....

We will speak in music.

Napoleon was victorious.

The whole of Europe was at his feet.

He took a Hapsburg princess
as his bride...

...and set up court
at Schönbrunn Palace.

He proved himself no
different than any aristocrat.

Everybody was betrayed.

This was the way of the modern world.

The year Louis lived with us...

...was the happiest of my life.

And, I think, of his too.

He opened his heart to me.

He called me his father-confessor.
He told me everything.

You must have loved him
very, very much.

With all my heart.

And he, you?

No.

I don't think so, no.

Then he was a fool.

I like you better drunk.

-It's good to talk about him.
-Yeah.

Is this why you came all this way?

No. No, not only.

You said there was unfinished business.

There is.

But how can I help you, Anton?

Perhaps it's nothing.

But then perhaps it's the key to him.

Perhaps they're right and
I should let it go, but I cannot.

It's impossible for me.

But why?

It was that damned sonata...

...the Kreutzer.

At the time, I entertained
ambitions of a musical career.

I'd gone to Vienna to study
and was fortunate enough...

...to be taken by
Schuppanzigh as a pupil.

He and George Bridgetower,
the famous virtuoso from Africa...

...were about to premiere
this new Beethoven sonata...

...at Count Razumovsky's that evening.

And I was allowed
to attend the rehearsal.

It was there that the seed
of a mystery was planted...

...that haunts me to this day.

Do you like it?

I cannot hear them...

...but I know they are
making a hash of it.

What do you think?

Music is a dreadful thing.

What is it?

I don't understand it. What does it do?

-It exalts the soul.
-Utter nonsense.

If you hear a marching band,
is your soul exalted? No, you march.

If you hear a waltz, you dance. If you
hear a Mass, you take Communion.

It is the power
of music to carry one...

...directly into the mental state
of the composer.

The listener has no choice.

It is like hypnotism.

So now...

...what was in my mind
when I wrote this?

A man is trying to reach his lover.

His carriage has
broken down in the rain.

The wheels are stuck in the mud.

She will only wait so long.

This is the sound of his agitation.

"This is how it is"...

...the music is saying.

"Not how you are used to being...

...not how you are used to thinking.

But like this."

Who was the woman?
He never told me.

I knew better than to ask.

He made me see the world
in an entirely new light.

I abandoned my petty ambitions.
I fetched and carried for him.

I wrote his letters and
smoothed over his domestic disputes.

I became his secretary.

The hag has sold it
in the market for a souvenir.

It's lost.

Gone forever.

Here.

Maybe not.

Ludwig was convinced he'd left
the sketch for his new symphony...

...in the safekeeping of his brother.

-My God.
-Uncle!

The brothers had barely
spoken for eight years.

This is Herr Schindler.

This is my brother, Caspar...

...and my nephew, young Karl.

Had I reaIized this,
I would've stopped him.

It is good to see you.

I need the papers I entrusted to you.

They were all returned to you.

I said your papers are not here.

You. Where are my notes?

I'd rather he not cause
a scene in front of the boy.

-What did the whore say?
-Get out of my house!

You've thrown away my music...

...you and this foul slut you call a wife!

You have betrayed me!

-Maestro, please!
-Stop it! Stop it!

He's sick!

Leave! Never return to this house!

He has consumption.

Caspar died before the year was out...

...but there was no relief in his death.

Rather, it sent Ludwig on a path of action
that would lead to his destruction.

That man....

He rooms with her.

My brother's bed is not yet cold...

...and he is climbing in.

If he says nasty things
about me, don't listen.

None of it is true. Promise?

I promise.

I will come and see you every day.

Come in.

Is this the lad?

Yes.

"By order of the Landrechte...

...Ludwig van Beethoven is the
legal guardian of his nephew, Karl...

...owing to the low moral character of
his mother, Johanna van Beethoven.

Rights of visitation for the mother
will be at the discretion...

...and convenience of the legal guardian."

Too watery.

Write.

Then we shall have to
find someone who can cook.

She has a swinish face anyway.

-Were you taught music?
-Yes.

I have a gift for you.

Come.

-Can you read?
-Yes.

Here.

Let me show you.

You shall be a musician.

I want to be a soldier.

A composer?

No, a soldier.

I gave my first concert
when I was your age.

And l was terrible.

Your grandfather thought that he was...

...going to make a fortune
out of me as a child prodigy...

...like Mozart's old man.

But I was pigheaded.

I wouldn't play that tinkly,
pretty stuff that was in vogue then.

But the keyboards of the day
were not up to it.

The first time I played
a chord, I broke four strings.

Here, Beethoven.

The boy is hardly a Mozart, is he?

I was 12...

...but Father told them I was 9.

Mother died of consumption...

...and l became
the head of the family.

Your papa...

...I loved most of all.

As l love you...

...my dear Karl.

His eyes shone with joy
when he looked at the boy.

All the love in his rich and deep nature
seemed to concentrate on this boy.

There was no more tender father.

You should hear him play.

He is going to be a great virtuoso.

You spoil him.

Schindler tells me you've written nothing.

Well, I have no time.

And besides...

...all the servants that Schindler
sends are scoundrels.

You're impossible.

Perhaps.

You and I....

Could Karl...

...not replace the son that you lost?

I know what it is to lose a son.

I know the sorrow Johanna feels.

She has no right to him!

She is his mother!

What new insanity is this?

It has come to our attention
that you've been bribing servants...

...in order to have
access to the boy in secret.

While you know Herr Beethoven
would not allow--

You are talking about my son.

My son who I have not seen for a year.

My son who's been taught to hate me.

-The decree of the court states--
-I know what it says.

Can you look me
in the eye and tell me...

...that a mother has no right
to see her son?

I will fight this.

You will lose.

He has many enemies.

The filth was bad enough.

That man is mad.

He cannot hear a thing.
He's always shouting and yelling.

The landlords would chuck
him out from his carrying on.

The boy is just as bad.
His uncle encouraged him.

I overheard them discussing how
they were going to beat me, so I left.

Was the boy kept clean?

He'd go a month without fresh underwear.

That man cannot look
after himself, let alone a child.

I would now like to
call Karl van Beethoven.

-Good afternoon, Karl.
-Good afternoon.

How does your uncle treat you?

Well.

-He has a hot temper, does he not?
-Yes.

-Do you fear his temper?
-No.

Did he ever punish you?

-Only when I deserved it.
-Karl...

...who would you prefer to live with?

Your uncle or your mother?

Do you want to stay with your uncle?

-Yes.
-Speak up.

Yes.

You don't sound certain.

It would be better if
Uncle had someone to be with him...

...because he is hard-of-hearing
and can't talk to me.

In fact, he is stone-deaf.

Karl...

...do you love your mother?

-Yes.
-Do you miss her?

Yes.

Then would you not prefer
to live with her?

Uncle needs me.

What I would prefer...

...is that we might all live together.

This way, gentlemen, please.

Herr Beethoven, our
most accomplished composer.

It is an honour.

Chancellor Metternich.

Due to his infirmity,
Herr Beethoven has requested...

...that I speak for him.

As you wish.

His case in the magistracy
is not going well.

Frau Beethoven has bribed
witnesses to testify--

I need your help.
My young nephew, Karl...

...is being corrupted by
this woman's poisonous character.

Why should I help you, Beethoven?

"Metternich is a worse
tyrant than Napoleon."

That was recorded
last Tuesday at the Swann Tavern.

"Metternich should be
forced to eat my shit."

And so on and so forth.

Herr Beethoven...

...there are many forces in
Austria that foment revolt.

I'd like a lively discussion
as much as the next man...

...but I fear that these days
we cannot allow quite so much--

How can I put it?

--enthusiasm.

Perhaps it would be
better if our great artists...

-Excuse me.
-...were a little more circumspect.

Herr Beethoven proposes that he write
a grand oratorio praising all Austria...

...and your magnificent diplomacy
at the Congress of Vienna...

...that has secured
the peace for all of Europe.

This court...

...has seen fit to ordain...

...that Johanna van Beethoven...

...shall be excluded from--

This court is corrupt.

Now that the boy was
delivered to Ludwig, body and soul...

...the deaf genius began what
was to be his most tragic endeavour:

To make his ward a great virtuoso.

For five long years this was his goal.

And in those five years,
Ludwig wrote nothing.

Not the oratorio
he promised Metternich...

...not the Mass he promised
the London Philharmonic Society...

...not the great symphony
he spoke of endlessly.

Nothing.

In Vienna they thought he
was finished, deaf, written-out.

Rossini had performed
The Thieving Magpie...

...and Italian opera was all the rage.

Beethoven was no longer performed.

Karl.

It's late.

I'm sorry, sir.

It's disgusting.

Why does she disobey me? She
knows my bowel's in a terrible state.

You're trying to poison me!

Well, she might appear plump
and pretty to you...

...but she's a vulgar bitch.

Gossips about me all over town.

Fräulein!

Yes, sir.

Your food is poison. You're fired.

You foul old bastard.

Write.

Where are you going?

-Where are you going?
-Away from you.

Well, leave me, then.

You're evil, like your mother.

Leave me alone, with no food.

Karl?

Have you seen Karl?

Karl?

Karl!

You are worthless!

Worthless!

I'm sending for the doctor now.

No.

Tomorrow.

Play for me.

Not now.

It will calm me.

Play.

I found this the other day.

"Maestro Ludwig van Beethoven
has the pleasure to announce a concert...

...which will be the debut
of his nephew and ward...

...Karl van Beethoven...

...a prodigy instructed
by the maestro himself."

Why, this is wonderful.

The very thing that will raise his spirits.
You must be very excited.

Anton, have you ever heard me play?

-No, but--
-You have to help me.

I'm at the end of my tether.

Endless hours at the keyboard.

For what?

He cannot hear my ham-fisted playing.

He does no work.

All he does is scribble
incomprehensible phrases.

Then he bellows this stupid, childish
tune at the top of his lungs:

He says this is the motif
of a grand symphony.

I think it's ridiculous.

-That cannot be.
-But it is.

I think he's going mad.

So I am to abandon my plans?

I am placing...

...intolerable pressure on Karl, huh?

He is...

...a mediocre talent.

Karl.

There are always...

...these asinine
fellows like Schindler...

...with their commonplace opinions...

...from their commonplace minds.

Schindler is right.

Anton Schindler, bad violinist...

...knows more about music
than Ludwig van Beethoven.

This is too much.

You're torturing the boy.

Schindler...

...I always thought
that you were a bore...

...and an ass.

But you had your uses,
and now you have none. Get out.

Get out.

Wake up, bastard!

Schindler! Schindler!

Wake up!

Karl...

...he's gone, on your account.

My Karl shot himself.

A farmer found him in the ruins.
He carried him here on his cart.

I fear the worst.

Uncle, I was expecting you.

Karl was a bungler with firearms.

The bullet did not penetrate his skull.
He did not die.

But the legend grew in Vienna
of Ludwig's cruelty to the boy...

...of how he drove him
to a desperate act.

Those who had silently disliked him
now shouted their derision...

...from the rooftops.

There is a letter.

I must find this lady.

He bequeathed his entire estate
to her.

It was not written to me.

Then who?

It was she who came between us.

I loved him completely, but he could
never return that sentiment.

He could not forget her.

Who is she?

I failed him. We all failed him.

He gave us so much. We couldn't
even make his life tolerable.

This last wish must be as he wanted.
Tell me.

Tell me her name.

The answer was always in front of you.

While still in my bed, my thoughts
turn to you, my Immortal Beloved.

What will you do?

Some happy, some sad.

I don't know.

Waiting to see whether fate
will hear us.

I don't know.

I can live only completely with you
or not at all.

Yes, it must be.

-Go to her.
-I....

It must be.

May we speak in private?

I have nothing to hide
from my workers.

I implore you.

As you can see, I'm very busy.

Frau Beethoven...

...may I see a sample
of your handwriting?

-Why?
-Please...

...indulge me.

Here.

Is this your handwriting?

What is this?

A page from the registry
of a hotel in Karlsbad.

I would like you to go.

Signed...

...by you.

Did you ever meet Ludwig
in Karlsbad?

You can hardly be unaware
of the manner...

...in which I suffered at his hands.

I find the question as insulting as it is
impudent. What are you implying?

There can be no peace without the truth.

For you, maybe.

But I have made my peace with Ludwig.

I forgave him because of the "Ode to Joy."

When they announced the premiere
of the 9th Symphony...

...the gossip was everywhere.

Ludwig had fought with the singers.

He had fought the theatre.

Even though I had hated him for so long...

...even though he had tried
to destroy me, I went.

I had to go.

I knew it would be the last time.

I could not see him.

And I imagined some last-minute
insult had sent him running home.

Then I saw him. Everybody saw him.

Ludwig!

He had revealed his
most hidden secrets to us.

The circle was broken.

I could not hate the man
who could write such music.

I saw him one more time, at his
rooms on Schwarzspanier Strasse.

That was where he died.

His belly swelled so much...

...that the surgeon had to make
a puncture to drain off the fluid.

The incision became inflamed.

His strength has gone, and I fear
the death struggle has begun.

I want him to receive the last rites
while he is still conscious.

But when I suggested l send for a priest...

...he turned his face to the wall
and called me an ass.

Then he asked for you.
I don't know why.

-Is he sleeping?
-I don't think so.

He is composing.

The comedy is over.

Yes...

...I once loved him.

He turned his back on me.

He abandoned me.

I never heard a word from him.

I was a fool.

I never meant anything to him.

But the letter...?

What letter?

Well....

Frau Beethoven, I believe
this is addressed to you.

My angel, my all...

...my other self.

Just a few words today,
and that in pencil. Yours.

Only tomorrow will I know for certain
where I am to stay...

...a worthless waste of time and such.

Why this deep sorrow?

If we could be united,
we would feel this pain no longer.

Where I am, you are with me too.

Soon we shall live together,
and what a life it will be.

-We must talk.
-Not here.

No.

No, Caspar will come.

But we must speak.

I'm talking too loudly?

Meet me in Karlsbad.

This is the address.

I can no longer skulk around
like a guilty schoolboy.

I have your child in me.

Go.

The journey was dreadful.

I did not arrive here
until 4 in the morning.

At the last stop, they warned me
against travelling at night...

...and tried to frighten me
about a forest...

...but that only tempted me.

The coach had to go and break down
on such a terrible road for no reason.

Just a country road.
And now I am held up completely.

But I have found another, and we
will surely see one another soon.

Today, I hope.

I have to see you.

However much you love me,
I love you more.

Never hide yourself from me.

Herr van Beethoven.
Herr van Beethoven.

Wait!

While still in my bed,
my thoughts turn to you...

...my Immortal Beloved.

Some of them happy, some sad...

...waiting to see
whether fate will hear us.

I can live only completely with you
or not at all.

Yes, it must be.

I must go to sleep now.
Be calm, love.

Today, yesterday,
what longing with tears for you.

You....

You're my life, my everything.

Farewell, then. Go on loving me.

Ever yours, ever mine, forever.