Caravaggio (1986) Movie Script

Malta, Siracuse, Messina, Naples,
Porto Ercole. 18th July 1610.
Four years on the run,
so many labels on the luggage...
and hardly a friendly face, always on the move,
running under the poisonous blue sea
running under the July sun.
Salt water drips on my finger
leaving a trail of tiny tears on the burning sun.
The fisherman carrying me high
on their shoulders.
I can hear you sobbing,
Rough hands wore my dying body...
..snatched from the cold blue sea.
They are lowing me back to the village,
their breath warm on my blue lips.
and dying in time of the splash of the oars
If arms steady as this embrace me and live !
to think Gerusalemme,
our friendship should end in this room...
..this cold white room so far from home !
The stars are the diamonds of the poor.
The richman hides the diamonds in walls...
..embarrassed to compare over the riches of
the Lord, the spark in the sky
The gentlemen is confering a
great honour on our family.
Be faithful and honest, like the men of our country.
Bleah !
Poor dumb Gerusalemme,
not used as a shepherd !
You look to true St Jhon
brought from the wilderness !
I told you the colours, and how
to brighten...
..the blood red cinnabar
and dirty grease grounded poppy and linseed.
The art of priming, glazing with soft squirrel brushes
My companion in my loneliness !
Now I am counting the sheep
on the hill side of our house.
Pasqualone sometimes comes to move me.
his hand ? my hair... the ripples
of the bottom of the ocean.
Far below my mother wears
a white sheet.
Bed time, Michele. Michele !''
Her voice floating like the silver mask
beholding the evening hand.
My true love Pasqualone, laughs.
Bed time Michele of the shadows
Returns holy home. the stones
clattering under our feets...
..the white sheet is
swallowed in the twilight.
''Pasqualone!''The mountains echo.
Then the darkness comes.
How much?
- Fifty.
Thats deep
- Have you more at home?
It will cost you !
Oggetto d'arte !
E io sono molto caro !
ln plain english mate, Im an art object
and very, very expensive
Is that your money worth?
I built my world
as divine mystery..
..found the God in the wine
and talking to my heart...
..I painted myself as Baco...
..and took on his feets: I wild
orgiastic dismenberment !
I raise this fragile glass
and drink to you my audience.
Mans character
is his feet ?.
Why did you paint the flesh
so green?
I have been ill all summer,
- Is true to life.
- And art?
- It isnt art.
- I see.
A most interesting idea.
What is your name?
- Michelangelo da Caravaggio.
- Michelangelo ? Michelangelo...
''No hope, no fear.''
The motto is rather extreme.
and the knife is illegal.
The price of the painting is my knife
I see
Show me the painting.
What have you written on the music ?
''You know that I love you.''
''Safe... to they like believe...''
''..that nothing is impossible...for you.''
''Think yourself... immortal...''
''..and capable...of understanding...''
''..all arts,
all sciences...''
''..the nature...''
''..of every living thing.''
''..than the...lowest deep.''
''Most higher,
than the highest pied ?...''
''..descend lower...''
Eraclito predicted from glimpse...?
''The way up and the way down
all one and the same.''
Bruno is repeating an old truth
in new lenguage.
That is the task.
Simple you could say...
..but nothing is more difficult
that simplicity.
Matter is in life...
God all this quotes! I can build the terror ? with them
perhaps he talks himself to sleep.
''...lnfinite living atom
floating like dust in a ?sand day.''
That, of course, is heresy.
The enemies of Bruno said...
..that ideas like that will make
the fix-stars of Aristotle fall from the heavens
..and the world wonder turning round on its own... a dizzy boy.
Time to go...
You can break pause for a moment now.
- how is it coming?
- Is a piece of cake.
- You well-fixed.
- Cant complain.
- How long have you been here ?
-where? in Rome ? - Yeah.
-Four years.
-Whats that Cardinal after?
Fuck all! A few cheap thrills
What else? You must be joking
- Whats his taste in music?
- Catholic.
Radio broadcasting
-Not get at anywhere with him.?
-Youve noticed ? -Noticed.
- Whats his name ?
- Ranuccio.
-Hes not been here before. is he ?
-Youve not seen ?.
-You want the impossible. - Dont you ?
- Why dont you paint him ?
-You think is that easy ?
- It wouldnt be the first time.
- The wine is free.
- You really want to pay, dont you ?
- No, Davide. I dont want to pay.
Is a true love, then.
love at first sight !
- All right, you talk me other thing?
- Im sorry
-Oh, fuck it. What have you been up to?
- No much.
- Hows the painting ?
- The painting ?
Do you want to know?
My painting is on the rocks.
St Matteo himself cant save it ?.
Its the most successful fucking disaster
Should I say by ? in the Coliseum!
-What are you doing later ?
-Coming back with you.
Youve paid to be still !
A cold, blue doubt
a infinitive uncertainty.
A black tide ripples
againts arsenic alights
A dark is invading
''Esse in anima''... be a violate soul.
No Master need through sin us...?
..a healthy dont need a doctor,
only the jaundice sick
And the Gods?
The Gods have become diseases
Thought without image
lost in the pigment...
in the formless amber oasis.?
ll My ? are over !
- Evviva l'anno nuovo !
- Evviva i prossimi cent'anni !
Uncertainty and doubt.
long live doubt,
through doubt comes inside.
Upon my bed at night
I saw him who my soul love
I saw him but find him not.
I called him but he gave not answer.
I will rise now
and go about the city... the streets and the squares
I will seek him who my soul love.
I saw him but find him not
Blood brothers.
- You are in love with him !
- With his money. - YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH HIM !
- He aint fucks me, yet ! Fucking red ? boy
-Pay off your fucking gambling debts !
- Piss off, will you? Is my business, I pay the bills
- You ? You pay the bills?
He loves me, He loves me not.
He loves you not.
In the wound the question is answer
All art is againts live experience
How can you compare flesh and blood with oil...
..ground pigment?
The room turns slowly. I steady myself
Steading into the blue void.
Dull metallic flies
cluster like rotting greens...?
..sul ronzante sole iridato.?
Sun keeps time
to the big to the old clock deep in the church.
The clock is as old as the time itself.
Pasqualone says:
''Old father time...
..carve his will from
the ceiling in the Garden of ?. ''
The flies scattered
of my shadows fall across?The dead red grimaces.
''Time stop for no man''. says Pasqualone.
The rat play off his life
on the cock in the green wounded clock quite carelessly.
''Time stop for no man, not even the sun". says Pasqualone.
My shadows passed the fly spiral back.
Pasqualone yawns
into the blue sky.
I do adore strawberries... feel so wicked eating them out of season.
My Dear Frances.
you havent try pepper?
- Expensive but perfect.
- What an extravagant idea !
..the most incompatible
subjects make the best friends.
I spent the morning in the Vatican.
They are very concern about the risk of your new loan ?
- They are extraordinary high.
- As indeed the Michele Caravaggios fee
But St Matheu looks so very well in the gallery !
It was a godsend
priest St Luigi hate it so much !
Im commissioning something
quiet different this time round: profane love.
Perfect subject four our genius
Micheles invited me to an unveiling
- Hes invited to you too.
- Both of us? - You heard her?
They are expecting the Pope.
-Really ?
- Yes, really !
- In fancy dress.
- Well, you wont have to change, will you!
- Michele is buying the costume for you.
- What more do you want ?
Much more that you can imagine !
Ive been to others of this parties...
..I was pick on by a talent scout
an evil queen called Ambrogia.
then told: ''If Im breath
the word that I have seen it...
..non life will be few worth
than a strand spaghetti.''
At midnight holy father arrives dress as a eerie satyr.
Wearing the ? of tiara.
Very good evening to you,
Your Holiness.
Take your fucking hands off me!
Lena !
Donna Elisabeth. Allow me to introduce
the hero of the our ?
- Michelangelo Caravaggio.
- We are not related, are you ?
Donna Elisabeth
is a great admirer of Michelangelo.
Such a sweet pal
so clever with his hands !
Ice cream ?
is just another party ! darling
Lena ?
Lena ?
Scipione, May I introduce you to
my charming friend Lena ?
Hes a nephew of our dear Pope.
Mercurio invent it the arts
with an act of theft.
Takes a thief to catch a thief.
Gimme you hand.Come on !
For Eternity and the day.
Madonna. Queen of heaven !
Agony fashion !
Ugly, isnt it ? Nice frame.
keep up with the work.
Virgins are expensive !
You are my St John...
..and this is our wilderness.
''With the support of his card?...''
''..with the connivance of his Cardinal,
the second Michelangelos...''
''..stole the commission
for the painting of St Matheu.''
''A conspiracy between Church and ?.''
''Those who love art must be alerted
to this poison...''
''..which seep into the body of our Renaissance
like a pernicious drug.''
''Shadows which permeate
his painting and no less insidious...''
''..than those wich cloaked ignorance
and depravity.''
A sad reflection...
..of our time.
Pasqualone yawns
into the blue sky.
''Time stop for no man'', he says, caressing himself
I watch the ripples in his trousers,
can I put my hand in?.
The words fall over themselves
with embarrassment.
Pasqualone sights
and remove his hands without looking at me.
I kneel beside him
and reach timidly into the dark.
There are hole on his pocket
my hand slides in.
His cock closes warm in my hand.
Pasqualone says his girl Cecilia, hold it harder.
''Harder Michele'' The air hisses to the gap in his golden teeth.
""Touch mine, Touch mine", my mouth is dry and the words refuse to come.
And ice cold bead sweat
forms and trickel on my back.
The seeds spat,
His body tighten.
It swallows ''Harder Michele, harder.''
The violent word fly around me... the marble splinters
in my father workshop, sting in my chin.
''Do it, do it, now !''
Do you want to stop for a while ?
Lena ?
Bring some water.
Whats wrong with my Madeleine ?
Is my child.
Im pregnant !
- Shes pregnant.
- Fucking marvelous ?
Piss artist !
Its gonna cost you !
- I hope I wasnt interrupting it.
- Youre back !
Not back, just visited.
- Whom child is it ?
- Mine.
- What about us ?
-Well, you have Michele...
..I have Scipione and the child.
The child shall be rich...
..beyond avarice.
Your hair screams out darkest the Medussa weed ?.
Your fingers are cold.
The cold has invade it.
Your blood run slow.
The life is wash away.
A child castle drifting in the foam.
My heart miss it a bit,
I reach up to you, my Magdalene...
..drown in the water of forgetfulness.
No peace for the wicked.
Michele !
Francis !
"and God shall wipe away
the tears from their eyes"...
.."There shall be no more death,
neither sorrow nor crying"...
.."neither shall there be any more pain".
"For the former things are passed away."
I am innocent !
I aint kill her ! I never touched them, never
- She was killed by Scipione Borghese !
- Shut your ? you lunatic !
Michele !
Fuck you ! Im innocent.
Aint bastard murderer, fucking bastards !
Look, look.
Alone again, down into the back of the skull
imagining and dreaming.
And beyond the edge of the frame. darkness.
the black night invading
The soot from the candels
darkening the varnish...
..creeping round the empty studio,
reading the wounded paintings...
..smashing out in the twilight.
Sharp knife wounded steady in the groin,
of your guts...
..when gulp the air tearing
your last breath from the stars... the sea run into the patch
sheet and you fall into the night.
I float on the glassy surface
of the still dark lake... black in the night,
silence as an echo...
..a mote in your eyes.
You blink and send me
spinning swallow in the vortex.
I shoot through the violet depths.
Unalterable silence
of these waters ! A tear forms in drops.
The ripples spread out
beyond the farthest horizont...
..beyond the matter,
scintilla, star !
I love you more than my eyes.
Ive trapped your spirit
in matter...
..wont you got no value
Im gloat like the leery-lyric of the fields ...? horribly perverted.
E' posto alto sugli altari di Roma.
Che vergogna !
God catchs you, YOU !?
Years ago..
when we met...
..I dreamed the paintings
I could love.
His Cardinal should buy
una vigna. Some more wine, Michele ?
Lambrusco, Frascati,
Lacrima Cristi... from the Veneto,
wine from Sicily...
..but for the reassurning ?...
..stronger than the sun in July,
richer than the Vatican...
..We have the establishment song ? ,
vino del Moro.
This fucking artichokes swimming
in rancid oil !
- Eminence.
-Michele Caravaggio...
..The Holy Father and myself are prepared
to turn a blind eye to ''Sodom''...
..provided you make it worth it
by bringing the riffraff back to Church...
..and placing them in oath
of the path of the Holy Father...?
..who is, of course, the soul and debita
of the life of our Lord Jesus Christ on earth.
and Michele, I must advance you...
..that this slander against my
personal life must stop.
Youll address ''His Holiness'' as your "Holiness"
and kiss his ring without touching it...
..when he extend his hand.
Michele Caravaggio...
..egregio ''in urbe pictor''.
Your Holiness.
I heard you are a bit of a irascible?. One of the family
Scipione says you paint quick.
The quicker the better.
I have a bloody war on my hands !
though !
The bloody Tomassoni affair...
..that prostitute in the Tiber.
I know youve been putting it about
that my nephew did her end.?
Well, If the portrait looks good
you can have him
and good luck to you.
Revolutionary gesture in art
can be a great help to us.
but you hadnt thought about that,
you little bugger !
Keeps the ''quo'' in the ''status''.
Never heard of a revolution made
with paintbrushes !
- You are out !
- You pull it off ! Fucking brilliant
What you mean ? Trick them ?
Michele, are you blind ?
I did it for you.
- For love.
- For what ?
- For love.
- you murdered her ?
For you. For us.
You murdered her.
The first light of dawn falls
sweet? open window in my bedroom.
A swallow flies in, an swoop
dark as an arrow along the beam ...
..landing with the twin, spread,
black as a crucifix on the wall.
"It is, it is" the swallow whispers.
The gold and dust cloud
? it is in the rushed air.
I lie eyes open facing the ceiling
on the great wooden bed...
..which is the barge that beds me
across the ocean at night.
I bed my head in the pillow
and dream on my true love Pasqualone.
Im rowing to you on the great dark ocean.
You soar dolphin
like out of my sight, laughing.
Dolphins are not caught
with smiles, but cruely with hoax ''Michele"
''One day you will learn to be cruel.''
''Michele, wake up,
Cecilia stands in the doorway.''
holding her feather duster on his long bambu pole
She leaps
catlike the swallow...
..switching her broom through the dusty stars
like a palm tree in the sirocco.
The spell is broken. Pasqualone
stands at the window smiling.
- Pasqualone.
- Michele.