Io, Don Giovanni (I, Don Giovanni) (2009) Movie Script
Oh my God!
Don Giovanni!
I, DON GIOVANNI
I baptize you in the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Ghost.
Do you take the name
of Annamaria Conegliano?
This farce disgusts me.
Poor Jews forced to accept
a religion they don't belong to
so an old widower may marry
a young Christian girl.
Do you take the name
of Emanuele Conegliano?
Do you take the name
of Emanuele Conegliano?
Sig. Casanova, have you gone mad?
- Why?
- Don't cause an outrage, please!
Emanuele Conegliano, do you wish
to convert to Christianity?
That's Beatrice.
Beatrice was the muse
and great love of Dante,
whose poem "The Divine Comedy"
is one of the most peerless
creations of the human mind.
Yes, my son,
a genuine masterpiece.
Return to the altar
and you can visit my library
whenever you wish,
and study this magnificent book.
Do you take the name
of Lorenzo Da Ponte?
- Say: "Yes, I do".
- Yes, I do.
I give you my name.
Are you aware
of what this blessing means?
You'll be called Lorenzo Da Ponte,
like me.
This name will open
all the doors of Venice to you.
I will help you prosper
in the bosom of the Church.
And perhaps, one day...
Lorenzo Da Ponte,
you will reach great heights.
Serf of the devil!
- Traitor!
- Rat!
- God will punish you!
- Death to this vile excrement!
- That's enough!
- May God curse you!
This man doesn't deserve
such despicable humiliation!
What have they done to you?
Did you mention my name?
Come with me.
Your hands are bloody,
Lorenzo Da Ponte.
Especially now that Barbarigo's thugs
are on the alert in Venice.
Have you gone mad,
going out like this?
That poor devil's
in the stocks because of me.
He printed your verses so he could
resell them at a high price.
One can be an idealist
and love risk-taking...
I can understand.
But it's not enough.
Danger must be avoided
if it puts one's life at risk.
One can be impetuous
and impassioned...
but not stupid.
That printer
could have cost you your life.
"'But tell me,
in the time of gentle sighs,
with what and in what way
did Love allow you
to recognize
your still uncertain longings?"
And she to me:
"There is no greater sorrow
than thinking back
on a happy time in misery
and this your teacher knows." '
Father...
can love...
transcend the barriers
of spirituality?
Do you mean physical love?
Carnality?
- He pesters me, Father.
- Who?
He molests me, persecutes me,
takes me to bed.
Your adoptive father?
Your Uncle Barbarigo,
head of the Holy Inquisition,
is not your real father,
Francesca.
Although you're
his adopted daughter,
you're free to choose
your lover.
You're in the bloom of youth,
beautiful.
I love you.
You're all I think about, Lorenzo.
I love you.
I can't sleep...
for thinking about you.
I want you, Francesca!
I want you, my love.
- Good morning, Your Excellency.
- Good morning, Marcello.
"In the time of gentle sighs..."
Francesca.
Your Excellency, Father Barbarigo.
What are you reading?
"Inferno", Canto V,
which describes the hellish
torments inflicted by lust.
"I learned that those
who undergo this torment
are damned because
they sinned within the flesh,
subjecting reason
to the rule of lust."
I'm sorry to interrupt
your lesson, dear Lorenzo...
but I must speak with you.
I have been trying
to flush out that blasphemer
who accuses the Holy Inquisition
of clouding minds
and setting Venice
on the road to ruin.
A cheap versemonger...
who scribbles satirical rhymes
quoting the heretical ideas
of Voltaire and Rousseau,
two French "Illuminati".
- Illuminists, Your Lordship.
- Damn Illuminati!
And no doubt inspired...
by the blasphemous notions
of that Giacomo Casanova.
Your friend.
A sinner who will soon repent,
God willing.
We finally set hands...
on one of the peddlers of these
verses in Venice.
An underground printer.
He told us the man
we're looking for
belongs to the Freemasons.
And that he may also be a priest.
A Masonic priest?
The enemy is in our own ranks?
We went to great lengths
to make the wretch confess.
Oh, my God.
Humble food cannot satiate
One who has left this mortal coil
Lead me to another desire
Different from eating
Lorenzo, please...
I'm trying to watch the performance.
Pasquarello, where are you?
Go back to your place at once
I no longer have an appetite
Back outside,
back outside, do not tarry!
A debasement of a character
as noble as Don Giovanni.
Master Giacomo,
don't take it to heart!
What was so noble
about that libertine?
You, of all people, ask that?
Don Giovanni represents
the only true virtue:
The freedom to savour
our nature
without the bondage of morals
and feelings.
A moment of earthly life was worth
more to him than eternity.
Even numbers, red.
Inside, underneath.
Damn!
Money, priest!
What rotten luck, we're flat broke!
If you'll allow me, dear lady,
I'd be delighted to help you.
- Then you may continue playing.
- The lady is with me.
To refuse a gentleman's money...
is not ladylike, it's extremely rude.
Lorenzo,
allow yourself some rest
in the chamber of sighs.
Thank you.
Betting is closed.
Sir.
Sir.
Help me,
a few coins will do.
I'd like to help you,
but I've been dogged
by ill luck too.
Brother!
Here, take this.
Thank you, brother.
I promise you
that we'll split the winnings.
San Gregorio, 12
I have your share
It must be at least 50 ducats!
Money comes and goes.
It doesn't give life,
it helps make it bearable.
But I didn't summon you here
for the money.
Listen to me.
Come with me, look...
I'm old, worn out and sick.
I don't have much time left.
I'll depart this world
without leaving anything...
to ennoble a life
wasted between gaming tables
and moneylenders.
With one exception...
She's my only daughter.
Her mother died in childbirth.
I love her more than anything else.
- Beatrice!
- No.
Not Beatrice.
Annetta.
Annetta!
Swear to me
that you'll look after her
when I'm dead.
I swear.
I cannot.
I'm unworthy of your trust.
Stop!
Lorenzo Da Ponte.
You are under arrest in the name
of the Holy Inquisition.
The tribunal of the Holy Inquisition
finds you guilty of conspiring
against Church and State.
For violating the oath
to observe the rules that bind you
to Our Lord, Jesus Christ.
For licentiousness,
forbidden affiliation
to a Masonic fraternity,
blasphemy,
sacrilege
and public concubinage.
And as an example and warning
to the whole population...
we condemn you...
to fifteen years in exile
and to banishment...
from the Republic of Venice.
Splendid!
You had a narrow escape.
Come on, a mouthful for each year.
With your talent,
you'll easily find work in Vienna.
Besides, it's a beautiful city
full of people open to new ideas.
We're respected there.
It's a letter to Antonio Salieri,
composer to the emperor's court.
He'll help you.
Just introduce yourself to him
with my recommendations.
You don't know how grateful
I am to you, Maestro.
Your wise teachings have guided
me over the years.
And now I'll never be able
to repay you for saving my life.
Oh my God!
Look!
Stop.
Don Giovanni!
This Don Giovanni
was doomed to failure.
Quite right
when they ill-treated a character
worthy of loftier consideration.
- Well, sir?
- Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you.
Allow me to introduce myself.
I am Lorenzo Da Ponte.
Pleased to meet you,
brother Lorenzo.
I'm Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
- Odd. I thought I knew everyone.
- Actually, I've just arrived.
I was going to the Court theatre
but your music attracted me.
- Are you a musician?
- No, a writer and poet.
I'm looking for a fellow countryman:
Antonio Salieri. He's a musician.
Yes... the great Antonio Salieri!
The great Italian family.
I'm pleased, you're in good hands.
Salieri enjoys
the favour of those in power.
Brother Lorenzo...
welcome to Vienna
and good luck.
A titbit of a lover
All of a sudden found
To discover that he's mad
Weighs heavy on the heart
Weighs heavy on the heart
I don't want a critical,
sober lover who'll bore me
But critical and a madman
But critical and a madman
That would be even worse
That would be even worse
A titbit of a lover
All of a sudden found
To discover that he's mad
Weighs heavy on the heart
This...
is downright rudeness!
And you, Maestro Salieri,
how can you tolerate such rudeness
without intervening?
Please, Madam Cavalieri,
there's no need to get angry.
I want him jocular and lively
He must jest, laugh, dance and sing
With a quip or story ready
Gallant manners, gay words
and of witty disposition
And if he must go mad
It must be mad with love
And if he must go mad
It must be mad with love
But critical...
Critical and a madman...
Madwoman
Well, a brief pause for everyone.
This is downright rudeness!
Is this how Vienna treats artists?
Is this how fine singing
is extolled here?
- Listen, my love...
- Don't say a word.
You wanted to humiliate me,
putting that hussy in your opera.
Maestro Salieri,
I am Lorenzo Da Ponte,
I've just arrived
and I wanted to ask you...
Wait for me outside please.
- I can't attend to you now.
- Giacomo Casanova sent me.
Excuse me
if I appeared unfriendly.
It hasn't been
a particularly easy day.
Your Majesty!
Your visit is a great honour.
The honour is mine, you know
how your work stirs me.
But perhaps I chose a bad time.
You told me there were
rehearsals today.
Your Excellency,
the Count is correct.
But we were just taking
a brief pause.
- We'll start again immediately.
- Do not trouble yourself, I can wait.
Even like this,
there's much to admire.
And how is our second Grace,
Madam Ferrarese?
Your idea to reunite
Madams Cavalieri and Ferrarese
in my new opera
is proving to be most excellent.
In fact, I'd even say wonderful!
Your Majesty, may I present
Lorenzo Da Ponte,
a dear friend and talented poet
just arrived from Venice.
It is a great joy
to find myself in the presence of
Europe's wisest
and most enlightened monarch.
You are respected and admired
in Venice.
- So, you are a poet.
- Yes, Your Majesty.
And also a priest,
libertine and troublemaker.
A reputation that does not
befit me, Sire.
Mr Da Ponte has left Venice
and is looking for employment.
Perhaps Your Majesty
can do something for him.
Of course.
Vienna needs new poets
with a reformist impulse,
especially in opera.
Why not entrust him with the libretto
of your next work?
Forgive me, but I'm afraid
I wouldn't be capable.
I've never written opera lyrics.
Lack of experience
is not a serious hindrance.
On the contrary,
we need new talent, new ideas
to renew our opera.
And Maestro Salieri
is in full agreement.
We'll have fresh inspiration.
May I remind you
that Maestro Salieri is already
in talks with our poet...
Oh yes, Casti.
I'd quite forgotten.
But there's a remedy for that.
Is there another composer
with whom you'd like to work?
Why not Mozart?
Our little rebel from Salzburg!
Excellent idea!
Mozart has been wanting to broach
an opera in Italian, and so he shall.
And to the sound of the gay march
Let's hasten to the revelry
Let's hasten to the revelry
Let's hasten
Let's hasten
Let's hasten to the revelry
Let's hasten
Let's hasten to the revelry
The revelry
The revelry
Your friend Lorenzo fobs you off
with his worst lyrics
and saves his best poems
for Mozart
and that strumpet Ferrarese.
You ladies
Who know what love is
See if it is
What I have in my heart
See if it is
what I have in my heart
All that I feel
I will explain
Since it is new to me
I don't understand it
I have a feeling
Full of desire
Which now is pleasure
Now is torment
I freeze, then I feel
My spirit all ablaze...
Forgive me my friend,
I didn't hear you come in.
I'm glad you didn't undertake
the voyage from Vienna alone.
Allow me to introduce a dear friend,
Madam...
Adriana Ferrarese!
The unequalled soprano.
I was in raptures when I heard
"The Marriage of Figaro" in Prague.
But now...
seeing you closely,
I must say the rest of your person
fully honours your splendid voice.
And I see that the stories
I heard about you...
were not far-fetched.
Poor me! Those are not stories,
but history.
At my age,
I've reached the peace of the senses.
And the spirit's task is to lovingly
administer the memories
those senses recall.
His Excellency, the Duke of Dux
has entrusted me with the care
of his magnificent library.
Now I live among
dreams and desires
written down...
among mad adventures,
secrets and impossible loves.
Books have become my consolation.
We all have a book capable
of moving us, isn't that so?
This one...
is waiting for you.
No...
it is for you.
It looks like the book I saw
the day I was baptized.
It does not look like, it is.
After you were banished
I found it in a bookshop
and I thought I'd buy it
and give it to you.
When we took leave
you were a banished wretch
and now you're one of the most
acclaimed lyric writers in Europe.
Thanks to your
recommending me to Salieri.
He helped me enter
the world of music.
Forget Salieri.
He's an excellent musician
but his obligations at court
are a great limit for him.
You must work with Mozart again,
he's a truly talented artist.
Your Figaro...
delicious, light,
full of imagination:
The future.
This is the path you must follow.
That's what I keep telling him.
After the triumph of Figaro,
Lorenzo must work
with Mozart again.
And, of course... with me.
You should be aware
of who has renounced my voice,
because Salieri is a boor.
He imposes his mistress,
La Cavalieri...
and all she's capable of doing
to perfection is...
well, you can imagine.
Salieri is not a boor,
La Cavalieri is not a prostitute
and I am not married to Mozart.
The truth is that Mozart
has very singular tastes
and refuses all the operas
that are proposed to him.
If you want, I have a story
worthy of your talents.
What?
A new Don Giovanni.
Come along,
you have guests waiting.
- Who?
- Da Ponte and Salieri.
- Send them away, I'm not interested.
- They want you to write a new opera.
They've already given us
a handsome advance.
Don't let yourself be taken in,
negotiate a decent fee.
Remember that we can't even
pay the maid
and neither of us are in good health.
I must take the waters in Switzerland
and medical cures are...
Enough of your whining!
Always telling me what to do!
Stanzi...
I'm sorry.
You know there's nothing in the world
I care about more than you.
Let's hear what these two
scheming Italians have to say.
My dear Maestro!
Good Lord, you're frozen.
- Maestro Salieri.
- Maestro Mozart.
I am here to inform you
that His Majesty
has charged you with composing
a new opera.
In Italian, of course.
And aided by the poetic talents
of our friend Da Ponte.
The Emperor was pleased
with "The Marriage of Figaro".
We shall do our best to please
His Majesty again.
Well then...
permit me to enjoin you both
to avoid any scandal,
since the subject you will broach
is risqu in itself.
What is it?
All in due course, Maestro.
When staging an opera,
one must be mindful of good manners,
as if one were at a banquet.
One must infuse a little sweetness
into the public's daily travails.
Therefore,
if you'll allow me to suggest,
you should compose music that is
simple, light and listenable.
Then even delicate palates
will digest and savour the show.
Sweetness, banquet,
savour, digest!
If I understand correctly,
Maestro Salieri,
composing an opera is like
baking a pudding to you.
Let's see...
Iovesickness is the egg.
A spot of intrigue, the flour.
And the comic interlude
is the sugar!
Then, this lovely mixture
of Maestro Da Ponte's words
and my music
is popped into the oven
until the pudding is ready.
Please excuse me, gentlemen...
I have other business to attend to.
Make a good job of it.
You're too harsh with him.
Salieri is much more sensitive
than he appears.
Tell me of this risqu subject
that Salieri mentioned.
An opera that will cause
more of a stir than "Figaro".
- Namely?
- "Don Giovanni".
"Don Giovanni"?
- It's been done so many times!
- But not our way!
We'll unveil a version
that no one will forget!
You know there's something of me
in everything I write.
That which I feel,
that which I love...
I leave shreds of my life
on the manuscript!
It's more than just work to me!
My music is like an inner flame
that consumes me.
Why should I suffer
for such a second-rate tale?
To convince you,
I'll relate the opening.
Imagine...
a man wrapped in a voluminous cloak
stealing through woods
around a luxurious dwelling.
The snow falls. It's night.
A full moon looks down from the sky,
but its beams are blue, not white.
In this blissful landscape
we see a man,
his face concealed by a large hat.
As you've guessed,
it's Don Giovanni,
out to seduce Donna Anna,
a young noblewoman.
In a bedroom
on an upper floor...
a beautiful maiden, Donna Anna,
is sleeping in a spacious bed.
Through the spotless white
of her nightgown
we discern a luscious body,
but we cannot see her face
because her back is turned on us.
She is restless, her long hair
flowing over the pillows.
The balcony door is open,
and between the billowing curtains
we see Don Giovanni's silhouette.
He enters Donna Anna's room.
He undresses.
Don Giovanni can control himself
no more.
He whispers into Donna Anna's ear:
"Donna Anna... my love...
my life."
Donna Anna...
my love, my life.
Donna Anna realizes that it is not
her betrothed, but a stranger.
Help! Assistance!
Don Giovanni leaps from the bed,
dons his garments as best he can
and with a daring,
cat-like leap from the balcony,
lands in the open space
before the house.
He then flees into the woods.
Still shrieking, Donna Anna
looks out from the balcony.
Help! Assistance!
Don Giovanni disappears
through the spectral trees.
A dazzling beginning,
sensual and audacious.
But of course,
this is just the background.
What?
We can't begin the opera like that,
it would cause an outrage!
It would never open.
Have you forgotten
Salieri's recommendations?
What do I care
about Salieri's recommendations?
All right then, how will we start?
We'll start outside the house.
With Don Giovanni leaping down
and fleeing?
Firstly, he must fight
a duel with the Commandant,
Donna Anna's father
who has come to her aid.
The Commandant draws his sword
and confronts the rake.
It's an uneven match,
Don Giovanni is an able swordsman.
He kills the Commandant
with a thrust through the heart!
The whole premise
is based on that killing.
Because once the Commandant is dead,
he will return
at the end of the opera...
as a marble statue.
You wish to start like that?
Slap in the middle of a duel,
without acquainting the public
with the basics of the story?
As Don Giovanni enters
Donna Anna's bedroom...
someone is acting as lookout
down below.
Who is it?
- Leporello.
- Leporello?
Of course!
Don Giovanni's manservant...
who is always in trouble
because of his master's follies!
A clownish manservant,
how original!
When one wants to raise a laugh
but has no imagination,
one introduces a servant in a mess
because of his master.
Leporello! Well done, Da Ponte!
"Thus I'm tortur'd
night and day."
Yes, my love.
Remember you promised me
a scene to myself.
An aria to show off
my full range of talents.
You know me so well,
write me a beautiful aria, my love!
Yes, my love.
I love you.
I love you too, Adriana.
"Thus I'm tortur'd night and day
and no thanks I ever get.
Now I'm chilled by piercing winds.
Now with rain
I'm dripping wet.
I'm resolved to change my state
and be a gentleman so great."
Some milk.
Wolfi, you've written so little!
You've had your nose
to the grindstone all morning!
Please, my love, I'm working.
What is it?
It's unlike you to spend
so many hours on so little verse.
It's not easy.
This is the opera's first aria,
the most important:
It must win the public over!
Come on, let's go!
"Thus I'm tortured night and day
And no thanks I ever get..."
Dearest, let me compose in peace.
- Stop now, or you'll be late.
- For what?
Today's lesson, heaven above!
I'd forgotten.
- Send a messenger to cancel it.
- Cancel it?
- I have to work, I cannot go.
- Come on!
We need the money.
Tidy yourself up and go.
Maestro?
- Are you all right?
- Of course, dear.
- Can we go from the reprise again?
- Yes.
I'm resolved to change my state,
yes, yes, yes!
And be a gentleman so great
- What do you think, Annetta?
- Is it from your next opera?
Yes!
Excuse me, is Lorenzo Da Ponte
your librettist?
Yes.
- Do you know him?
- He was friend to my father.
I'm resolved to change my state
And be a gentleman so great
I'm resolved to change my state
Yes, and be a gentleman so great
Not bad, Leporello.
No sooner has Leporello finished
than you enter, breathless.
Still trying to dress after
fleeing from Donna Anna.
Donna Anna, in her nightgown,
follows Don Giovanni
and shrieks with fright
and indignation,
since a stranger has molested her
in her sleep.
She grabs Don Giovanni's arm,
withstanding his violent tugging.
You must conceal your face
with the cloak.
Donna Anna must not see you,
you're a stranger to her! Try.
Till thy name I've learn'd thou viper,
from this spot thou shalt not go.
Foolish girl, beware my fury!
Who I am thou ne'er shalt know.
- Villain tremble! Help, what ho!
- Be silent or my rage you'll rue.
- Miscreant!
- Impudent woman!
Well done!
Till thy name I've learn'd thou viper
from this spot thou shalt not go
Foolish girl, beware my fury!
Who I am thou ne'er shalt know
Till thy name I've learn'd
thou viper...
What a tumult! Oh what screaming!
My master's in some trouble now!
Villain tremble! Help, what ho!
Be silent or my rage you'll rue
- Miscreant!
- Impudent woman!
Miscreant!
Some fearful act!
And I must share it too.
I'm desperate,
and my persecutor fain would know
Some fearful act she'll surely
make me do
Miscreant!
Some fearful act!
And I must share it too
- Miscreant!
- Impudent woman!
Miscreant!
Be silent or rue
I'm desperate
and my persecutor fain would know
Some fearful act she'll surely
make me do
Some fearful act!
And I must share it too.
Unhand her, villain
Turn and defend thee
Hence fool. I deign not
with thee to combat
Dost thou fear me?
Dost from me fly?
I wish I could
I think I'll try
Hence fool: I deign not
Dost thou fear me?
Dost from me fly?
- Coward!
- Tremble!
Tremble, for thou
Must surely die
Ah, great Heaven
- Powers of Mercy
- The meddling fool lies prostrate
'Neath t'assassin's hand expiring
Agony his frame is wringing
Terror dire, my blood congealing
thru my veins like ice is stealing
Forth, from out my quiv'ring bosom
fast the life-blood wells away
Fast his soul its flight is winging
as his life-blood wells away
I know not what to do or say
I know not what to do or say
Terror dire, my blood congealing
thru my veins like ice is stealing
I know not what to do or say
Very good.
And now a well-deserved break.
Madam Cavalieri, magnificent!
Commandant, perfect.
A couple of things...
Annetta...
is it really you?
I told Mozart
that I would like to see
preparations for an opera.
I hoped to meet you here,
but I was afraid of seeing you too.
- Afraid, why?
- You need to ask?
The first time I saw you in Venice,
it was like a dream come true.
I felt a sensation
completely unknown to me.
But you fled from me
as if I were the devil himself.
In your presence
I felt dazzled by a perfection,
by a harmony that I never thought
could actually exist.
Life gave me a gift
that I did not truly deserve.
I felt unworthy, without appeal.
My father heard you were exiled
and had come here to Vienna.
He wanted to join you,
but was too ill to come.
- I'm sorry.
- And after his death
I decided to abandon Venice
and move here.
Why did you not look for me
immediately?
I had no wish to be
one of your many trophies.
What are you referring to?
Your notorious womanising
and dissolute life.
Wait.
I dedicated these verses to you.
See, that's your name.
They're for you.
"Then with thy hand in mine, dear,
thou'lt whisper gently yes.
The castle's lord be thine dear
Come, and thy lover bless."
Annetta...
my love.
It no longer makes a difference
if I believe you or not.
What do you mean?
It is too late.
Why?
I am betrothed,
I am to marry next month.
Who?
Not you. Forgive me.
Adriana, what a surprise,
what are you doing here?
Who is she?
- Who?
- Don't feign ignorance.
Annetta Dei Fiorini.
A pupil of Mozart's.
How can you be jealous?
She can't even sing.
You start rehearsals without me
yet ask me that?
You promised me a leading role
but shut me out.
- I'll be a laughing-stock!
- What do you mean, my love?
Today we only rehearsed
the opening scenes.
Of course, now you have that
Cavalieri whore.
And in exchange for her favours,
you gave her the lead role.
Please, calm down.
Your jealousy
is driving you to madness.
I had to give her a small role
to gain Salieri's support
or Don Giovanni wouldn't
have been approved at Court.
And my role?
It just needs a few corrections,
a little polishing.
I promise you that in a few days
you may start rehearsals.
And stop thinking I chase
other women behind your back.
Even La Cavalieri!
How absurd.
You are my one and only.
My nightingale.
Ladies and gentlemen...
let me introduce Lorenzo Da Ponte.
My lover.
He swore love and fidelity to me.
And after many lies,
he has now abandoned me.
Without even having the guts
to tell me face to face.
Leave me alone, you madwoman.
Is this how you repay all I did
for you, you wretch?
Maestro, I've been searching for you
all over town!
I must speak with you,
I hope it's not inconvenient.
Of course not.
- There's deep trouble ahead.
- The new scenes aren't ready?
If only that were the extent of it.
- La Ferrarese...
- Has cut La Cavalieri's throat.
Cavalieri cut Ferrarese's throat?
They cut each other's throats?
I'm being serious!
I dismissed La Ferrarese today.
Now do you understand the gravity
of this dilemma?
Full well.
La Ferrarese
wants to cut your throat!
Forgive me, I don't mean
to laugh at your misfortune.
But that woman
is as poisonous as a viper.
I wouldn't like to be in your shoes.
I advise you to let things lie,
time erases everything.
You don't understand!
We're in trouble:
Me, you and the opera.
What do the opera and myself
have to do with this?
That woman is vindictive,
I've a feeling she's out to ruin
"Don Giovanni" to get at me.
Believe me, we're up against
Machiavelli in a corset.
Machiavelli in a corset...
She can't do a thing if she
doesn't have a role in the opera.
That's the point: I promised her
a leading role that doesn't exist!
A leading role?
What about a proud woman,
seduced and abandoned,
who swears revenge?
Of course...
Besides Donna Anna,
let's put a second enraged woman
on Don Giovanni's heels.
I at least hope this character
won't be called Adriana Ferrarese!
What about...
Donna Elvira?
Why these sighs?
What checks my utterances?
Though by him I've been neglected
Though my peace has fled, alas!
Though his falseness
I've detected
Prayers for him my lips still pass
Though by him I've been neglected...
When I think on wrongs I'm bearing
Vengeance only steels my heart
When I see him perils sharing...
After our first meeting,
I asked myself
if it is enough for
a man of your stature
to leave just a book of memoirs
for posterity.
And so I thought of Lorenzo.
He shares many characteristics
with you.
And the Don Giovanni
that you suggested to him
with such sly dexterity...
is partly a mirror-image
of your own life.
And?
Would you like Don Giovanni
to marry and turn into...
a faithful little husband?
Explain.
Lorenzo believes he's met
the woman of his dreams.
He's in seventh heaven.
And he's even shared the joy
for his new love with...
Don Giovanni.
You're a jealous woman.
I'm starting to get bored.
This is not a trick.
See for yourself.
This...
is the marriage scene.
Written by his own hand
and distributed yesterday.
What do you want from me, Adriana?
Annetta...
Her name is Annetta
and she is part of his Venetian past.
I'm sure she wouldn't like to hear
about all Lorenzo's conquests.
Take it and read.
You have perspicaciously noted
that I modelled Lorenzo
in my image.
By way of comparison,
I noted all his conquests
with great attention to detail,
I assure you.
You may copy the list, if you wish.
Some names can even debunk
stories I heard.
Of course, I wouldn't want
Lorenzo to know.
Bastard!
Even Gertrude, my maid!
You appear on the list too.
Prayers for him!
Prayers for him my lips still pass!
I am Lorenzo Da Ponte.
I'm looking for Miss Dei Fiorini.
- Is she at home?
- I'm sorry, I don't know.
I'll go and see.
Lorenzo, what are you doing here?
I came to pay a courtesy call
and bring flowers.
I am betrothed, I can't accept them.
Annetta, who is it?
You misunderstand,
they are not for you.
Please, come into the salon, sir.
- Allow me to introduce myself...
- I know who you are, Mr Da Ponte.
I am delighted to meet you,
Madam Dei Fiorini.
I had the great fortune of being
acquainted with your brother.
A kind gentleman.
My brother, rest his soul,
was an idler who squandered
the family fortune
at the gaming table.
But please, Mr Da Ponte,
sit down.
Adele,
put these flowers in a vase.
Excuse the disorder,
we were folding sheets.
You must forgive me,
I called unannounced.
Let me help you
with the chore I've interrupted.
I told my aunt
you're writing the libretto
for Mozart's new opera.
We were bewitched by
"The Marriage of Figaro".
I'm flattered. I hope my new opera
will also be to your liking.
Why have you come?
We'd said everything.
You did not forbid me
from seeing you again.
Besides, I wouldn't have obeyed you.
Why not tell us something
of your new opera?
It's the story of a libertine,
a subject that may seem indelicate,
but our treatment of it
reaches a highly moral conclusion.
It tells of a dissolute
who places the fatuity of vice
above genuine feelings,
until a woman kindles within him
a love he's never felt.
He decides to change his life,
and give himself to his
redeeming angel.
Forgive my prying,
but is all this linen
part of your trousseau?
You are inquisitive, but to satisfy
your curiosity: No, it isn't.
But tell us more
about this redeeming angel.
A maiden betrothed to another man.
His love seems impossible.
He's desperate, but doesn't desist.
She feels
the same rapture for him,
but doubts his sincerity...
though she finally realises
his love is genuine.
You see, the story ends
both happily and instructively.
I am not betrothed.
I am not about to marry.
Annetta...
how can you still doubt me?
Why don't you open the door?
Excuse me.
Miss, this was delivered for you.
I never want
to see or hear from you again!
You and your glib tongue!
Get out of this house
and my life,
and don't you dare come back.
Were you working all night again?
You promised to take
more care of yourself.
You can't go on like this,
your health is already poor.
Don't worry,
it's just a spot of tiredness.
A cup of hot coffee and I'll be fine.
I'll make some immediately,
but lie down.
At your request
See, here I come
I am your guest...
My dear!
Gently...
It's nothing, just a mild attack.
I'm all right.
Forget this "Don Giovanni",
it's ruining your health!
What?
The work is almost complete.
And wasn't it you who insisted
I accept it?
I know.
It was a serious mistake.
This damned opera is killing you.
Don't be so dramatic.
I can't leave an opera unfinished.
We can't afford
to give the advance back.
Besides,
"Don Giovanni" is a splendid work.
Splendid?
The lecherous adventures
of a sexually excited degenerate?
That kind of rubbish could only
appeal to your friend Da Ponte,
who's not much better
than Don Giovanni.
Maestro Casanova,
Lorenzo tells me that you
are the true inspirer of our opera.
I cannot tell you how thrilled I am
to know that you have set
"Don Giovanni" to music.
This is not childish adulation,
this is one of the most
important moments of my life.
Thank you.
Allow me to introduce our Leporello.
And our Don Giovanni.
Pleased to meet you.
Young, handsome...
We're waiting for Donna Elvira,
she's about to arrive.
- Isn't that so, Lorenzo?
- Yes.
The scent of the theatre...
Here she is.
What a nice surprise, Mr Casanova!
You look wonderful, Adriana.
Our Lorenzo is truly brilliant.
His ideas are so astonishing
that I sometimes wonder
where he gets his inspiration!
Let's sit down,
you can enjoy an advance preview.
I read here that Don Giovanni's
Italian conquests number 320.
Permit me a little national pride,
but such a miserable score
gives the impression
that our hero looks down
on Italian beauties.
Why don't we increase it?
In Spain his total is 703...
Ladies and gentlemen,
he's the world's greatest seducer.
Is it possible that
in his own country he chalks up
such a poor result?
Let's be more lavish.
- Let's make it 1,003.
- 1,003?
Pray behold, ma'am,
in this long list I've made, is:
An account
of my master's fair ladies!
Not Jove
so renown'd for his trade is:
Pray observe it,
and read it with me!
Pray observe it,
and read it with me!
First in Italy, ma'am,
seven hundred
Then in Germany
eight may be number'd
Then in Turkey and France,
one and ninety
But in Spain, ma'am...
But in Spain, ma'am
one thousand and three!
One thousand and three
One thousand and three
Here are chambermaids
by dozens
City dames and country cousins
Countesses and Baronesses
Marchionesses and Princesses,
all descriptions, ages, classes
Not a woman could go free
Could go free
First in Rome,
we have seven hundred...
I don't wish to meddle with
your muse's whisperings,
but I gather that you intend
to end the opera
with a chastened Don Giovanni who
even goes so far as to marry
the love of his life.
Is that true?
All nonsense.
Whoever told you such rubbish?
Baronesses, Marchionesses,
Princesses
All descriptions, ages, classes
not a woman could go free
Not a woman could go free
Not a woman could go free
First the fair one
He bewitches
By the softness
Of his speeches
Makes the brown ones
In a fever
Warmly vowing
Love forever
With the pale ones
he will languish
Melt and sigh in tender anguish
The great
And tall ones
Sometimes warm him
But the short ones
But the short ones
But the short ones
always charm him
He who loves but one woman
is merely a selfish oaf.
High and low, ma'am,
young and old, ma'am
Own the music
Of his tongue, ma'am
Though if I must
tell the truth, ma'am
He'd give the choice
to youth, ma'am
Ugly, pretty, fat or thin
Something a petticoat within
Something a petticoat within
It matters not,
For, short or tall
'Tis very plain
He loves them all
'Tis very plain
He loves them all
'Tis very plain he loves them all
Excellent. Thank you!
Please excuse me for a moment.
I'm sorry to hear
about your father, Wolfgang.
My heartfelt condolences.
Thank you, Lorenzo.
Don't leave me alone.
I loved my father.
He was often unjust
and cruel with me.
He obliged me to play the piano
instead of playing
with the other children.
But I was a prodigy,
touched by the gods.
I received compliments,
I was applauded wherever I went.
And my father reaped the benefits.
I was suffocating
in the world he built around me.
He'd hound me continually so he could
earn more money off me.
Always for the good of the family.
One day he told me that if I didn't
do as he said,
the devil would come
and bear me away.
What do you think of that?
His very words.
The devil would bear me away.
Yet, despite all this, I loved him.
Very much.
I loved him and feared him.
I feared his rebukes, his criticism.
He distanced himself when he realized
my music was better than his.
He was jealous of his own son!
Of my popularity!
He wanted to have
complete control over my life,
he'd always tell me what to do.
He loathed Costanza.
When we married he sent me a letter:
He wrote that I was in debt to him
for all the money
he had invested in me.
What do you think of that?
What meanness.
Sometimes, in my thoughts,
in my dreams...
I wished for his death.
Ah, great Heaven! Powers of mercy!
Come along, Mozart!
You're merely upset.
You must get over this misfortune
and there's nothing better
than work for that.
I cannot continue
with "Don Giovanni".
My wife is right, it's bad for me.
I must stop.
- What are you saying?
- You haven't understood?
If I complete this opera,
I will damage my soul.
That's absurd!
If you feel something
burdening you inside,
see a priest and ask him
to give you absolution.
Why don't you give me absolution?
I didn't mean that...
- Aren't you a priest?
- Yes, but it's been a long time...
I beg of you,
if you really are my friend...
free me from this torment.
Kneel down.
Well done!
Bringing me here
was a splendid idea.
Well done!
The best thing you can do
is forget Annetta.
Stop thinking about that woman.
That depends on you.
Are you going to name
a serenade after her?
It's your fault
if my heart is broken.
What do you mean?
It was through you
that I met Annetta again.
You're the culprit.
The Vizier!
- Were you bored, my beauty?
- Yes, my love.
Without you,
the minutes are never-ending.
My love,
I brought you this jewel
as a token of my feelings.
You are doing me
an invaluable service.
It's difficult to replace a musician
who falls ill at the last moment.
It's an honour for me to play
with so many virtuosos.
I don't know if
I'm equal to the task. Look.
You're merely afraid
of being in the forefront.
Annetta, you are my best pupil.
Once you begin to play,
your fears will disappear.
Thank you.
Maestro, are you sure...
That he will not come?
Of course.
- Which ring do you like most?
- This one.
The biggest.
Very well.
At length, my sweet Zerlina,
we are rid
Of this troublesome fellow
Say, then, my angel,
have I not well contriv'd?
My lord, he is my lover
What? He?
Do you think that a nobleman
A man of rank, as I am
Can suffer such bewitching beauty
To be profaned
By such a base clown?
But, my lord,
I have promis'd to marry him
Such a promise is void in itself
You were not born to be
the wife of a country booby
Those roguish eyes
Those pouting lips
Those little fingers,
so white and tapering
Ensure you
A better fortune
Ah, but I would not...
Would not what?
Not like to be imposed upon
I have heard that noblemen
are seldom frank and sincere
With women
It is vile calumny of the vulgar
Nobility and honour
always go together
But do not let us lose time
This very moment I will marry you
You?
Certainly
That house you see is mine
There we shall be alone
And there, my angel
We will be married
Then with thy hand in mine
Thou'lt whisper gently yes
The castle's lord be thine
Come and thy lover bless
I would, and yet I would not
My breast with terror heaves
'Twould be the happiest lot
Unless this lord deceives
Come, then, with me, my beauty
Masetto claims my duty
I wish to change thy state, love
I yield myself to fate, love
Come then
Then with thy hand in mine
I would and I would not
Thou'lt whisper gently yes
My breast with terror heaves
Come and thy lover bless
Unless this lord deceives
Come, then, with me, my beauty
Masetto claims my duty
I wish to change they state, love
I yield myself to fate, love
Then come
Then come
Then come
And share with me the pleasure
Of innocence and love
Of innocence and love
How did it go?
For the best.
- Annetta?
- She played perfectly.
That's not what I meant.
What did she say?
She left immediately
after the rehearsal.
She said nothing about me?
You must have patience
and let her contemplate in peace.
Meanwhile, occupy your mind
with other things.
Perhaps you could finish
the opera's concluding scenes.
May I remind you that we open
in less than a week.
You'll fall ill out here.
Why not stay and dine with us?
Lorenzo Da Ponte!
Come and make love with me.
Come on, Lorenzo!
I'll warm you up.
It's so cold.
I left the door open for you.
You were so certain
that I would come?
No.
But I hoped.
And now you're here with me.
Good heavens, Lorenzo.
You're boiling hot.
Wait.
Don Giovanni has extended
a dinner invitation to the statue
of the Commandant he killed.
He certainly doesn't expect
the Commandant to accept.
Let's go then.
Repent!
And change thy life,
or thy last hour has come!
No, no.
I'll not repent.
Far hence, away, begone!
Lost man! Repent!
No, obstinate old man.
- Repent!
- No.
Repent!
No!
No...
Are you truly convinced, Lorenzo?
No?
Why not, for once, abandon
this inane journey to hell
and fly upwards to heaven?
A goal would save his soul.
The just price
for one who has been
a slave to earthly pleasures.
Let us save his soul,
let her say no.
No.
Don Giovanni must accept
his responsibilities.
Otherwise he would be a hypocrite.
You yourself said:
"A moment of earthly life was worth
more than eternity to him."
I said that?
Well, so what?
Why consign him to the flames?
You see me in him
and wish to condemn me?
No, Giacomo.
I recognize myself in Don Giovanni.
If that's so, then his fall
would also be yours.
I only see part of my life in him,
that part that I now wish
to free myself of.
Why?
For her?
For a love story,
for love!
All my lessons scattered to the winds.
Freedom!
You do not, perhaps,
approve of our love?
I'm sorry.
I act according to my conscience.
Oh, my lord, for mercy's sake
Not a step now farther go
The man of stone, the man in white
Ah, my lord, I'm fainting quite
If you'd seen his dreadful figure
if you'd heard his footsteps sound
This I do not understand
Certainly you are gone mad
'Tis someone knocking
- Open
- I tremble
Open, I say!
Open!
So, this prodigy to witness
I must myself unclose the door
I do not wish to see him more
and I'll hide myself at once
Don Giovanni
At your request
See, here I come
I am your guest
Never could I have believ'd it
But I'll do the best I can
Leporello, another supper
order them at once to bring
Ah, my lord, I freeze with horror
Go, I say!
Pause an instant!
We partake not earthly banquets
Who with
Heavenly food are fed
By other motives
Hither led
Other cares
Have brought me here
Speak!
What would you? I attend
While I speak, listen!
My minutes are few!
Speak, speak! I'm all attention
Listen!
My minutes are few!
Speak, speak!
I am all attention
Thou didst invite me here
And now I invite thee!
Reply!
Reply!
Wilt thou come
to be a guest with me?
Alas, we have no time, excuse us
The stain of coward fear
Shall never spot my name
Decide then!
Already I've resolv'd
Thou wilt come?
Say no!
Doubt dwells in my bosom
No fear have I: I'll come!
Give me thy hand, in proof!
Take it
- What is it?
- What chill freezes my heart?
Repent and change thy life,
or thy last hour is come!
No, no, I'll not repent.
Far hence, away, begone!
Lost man, once more, repent!
No, obstinate old man!
- Repent!
- No!
- Yes!
- No!
Henceforth 'twill be too late!
Through ev'ry nerve I tremble
and icy chill o'erpowers me!
What mean these dreadful gulfs
that open to devour me?
Horror more dire awaits thee!
And dread is thy dark doom!
My heart bursts in my bosom
the serpents gnaw my vitals
What torture, oh, what madness!
What horror! What despair!
What cries! What lamentations!
They pierce my heart with woe!
My heart bursts in my bosom
The serpents gnaw my vitals
What torture, oh, what madness!
What horror! What despair!
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.
Thank you everyone.
- Ladies and gentlemen.
- Well done, my dear Mozart.
Excellent work. Well done.
- Thank you, Your Majesty.
- Yes, excellent work...
but the point is...
how can one put it...
It seems a rather heavy dish for
the palates of my Viennese subjects.
A heavy dish, Your Majesty?
Then why not give them time
to digest it,
Sire?
What impertinence, Your Majesty!
Mozart is finished...
Thank you for your sensitivity
and wisdom.
It is I who must thank you.
It was worth it, being contaminated
by you and your demons!
And by my own. Thank you.
- Annetta, did you like the opera?
- Are you that Don Giovanni?
I was, but I came back from hell
to be with you.
Sir, try to behave more fittingly.
Who are you
to tell me how to behave?
That is Lorenzo Da Ponte.
The librettist of the opera.
It's disgraceful!
With what effrontery do they dare
to portray the doings of a libertine!
I liked it.
The music was magnificent.
W. Amadeus Mozart died
at the age of 35.
Lorenzo Da Ponte died in New York
married with children, aged 87.
Don Giovanni!
I, DON GIOVANNI
I baptize you in the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Ghost.
Do you take the name
of Annamaria Conegliano?
This farce disgusts me.
Poor Jews forced to accept
a religion they don't belong to
so an old widower may marry
a young Christian girl.
Do you take the name
of Emanuele Conegliano?
Do you take the name
of Emanuele Conegliano?
Sig. Casanova, have you gone mad?
- Why?
- Don't cause an outrage, please!
Emanuele Conegliano, do you wish
to convert to Christianity?
That's Beatrice.
Beatrice was the muse
and great love of Dante,
whose poem "The Divine Comedy"
is one of the most peerless
creations of the human mind.
Yes, my son,
a genuine masterpiece.
Return to the altar
and you can visit my library
whenever you wish,
and study this magnificent book.
Do you take the name
of Lorenzo Da Ponte?
- Say: "Yes, I do".
- Yes, I do.
I give you my name.
Are you aware
of what this blessing means?
You'll be called Lorenzo Da Ponte,
like me.
This name will open
all the doors of Venice to you.
I will help you prosper
in the bosom of the Church.
And perhaps, one day...
Lorenzo Da Ponte,
you will reach great heights.
Serf of the devil!
- Traitor!
- Rat!
- God will punish you!
- Death to this vile excrement!
- That's enough!
- May God curse you!
This man doesn't deserve
such despicable humiliation!
What have they done to you?
Did you mention my name?
Come with me.
Your hands are bloody,
Lorenzo Da Ponte.
Especially now that Barbarigo's thugs
are on the alert in Venice.
Have you gone mad,
going out like this?
That poor devil's
in the stocks because of me.
He printed your verses so he could
resell them at a high price.
One can be an idealist
and love risk-taking...
I can understand.
But it's not enough.
Danger must be avoided
if it puts one's life at risk.
One can be impetuous
and impassioned...
but not stupid.
That printer
could have cost you your life.
"'But tell me,
in the time of gentle sighs,
with what and in what way
did Love allow you
to recognize
your still uncertain longings?"
And she to me:
"There is no greater sorrow
than thinking back
on a happy time in misery
and this your teacher knows." '
Father...
can love...
transcend the barriers
of spirituality?
Do you mean physical love?
Carnality?
- He pesters me, Father.
- Who?
He molests me, persecutes me,
takes me to bed.
Your adoptive father?
Your Uncle Barbarigo,
head of the Holy Inquisition,
is not your real father,
Francesca.
Although you're
his adopted daughter,
you're free to choose
your lover.
You're in the bloom of youth,
beautiful.
I love you.
You're all I think about, Lorenzo.
I love you.
I can't sleep...
for thinking about you.
I want you, Francesca!
I want you, my love.
- Good morning, Your Excellency.
- Good morning, Marcello.
"In the time of gentle sighs..."
Francesca.
Your Excellency, Father Barbarigo.
What are you reading?
"Inferno", Canto V,
which describes the hellish
torments inflicted by lust.
"I learned that those
who undergo this torment
are damned because
they sinned within the flesh,
subjecting reason
to the rule of lust."
I'm sorry to interrupt
your lesson, dear Lorenzo...
but I must speak with you.
I have been trying
to flush out that blasphemer
who accuses the Holy Inquisition
of clouding minds
and setting Venice
on the road to ruin.
A cheap versemonger...
who scribbles satirical rhymes
quoting the heretical ideas
of Voltaire and Rousseau,
two French "Illuminati".
- Illuminists, Your Lordship.
- Damn Illuminati!
And no doubt inspired...
by the blasphemous notions
of that Giacomo Casanova.
Your friend.
A sinner who will soon repent,
God willing.
We finally set hands...
on one of the peddlers of these
verses in Venice.
An underground printer.
He told us the man
we're looking for
belongs to the Freemasons.
And that he may also be a priest.
A Masonic priest?
The enemy is in our own ranks?
We went to great lengths
to make the wretch confess.
Oh, my God.
Humble food cannot satiate
One who has left this mortal coil
Lead me to another desire
Different from eating
Lorenzo, please...
I'm trying to watch the performance.
Pasquarello, where are you?
Go back to your place at once
I no longer have an appetite
Back outside,
back outside, do not tarry!
A debasement of a character
as noble as Don Giovanni.
Master Giacomo,
don't take it to heart!
What was so noble
about that libertine?
You, of all people, ask that?
Don Giovanni represents
the only true virtue:
The freedom to savour
our nature
without the bondage of morals
and feelings.
A moment of earthly life was worth
more to him than eternity.
Even numbers, red.
Inside, underneath.
Damn!
Money, priest!
What rotten luck, we're flat broke!
If you'll allow me, dear lady,
I'd be delighted to help you.
- Then you may continue playing.
- The lady is with me.
To refuse a gentleman's money...
is not ladylike, it's extremely rude.
Lorenzo,
allow yourself some rest
in the chamber of sighs.
Thank you.
Betting is closed.
Sir.
Sir.
Help me,
a few coins will do.
I'd like to help you,
but I've been dogged
by ill luck too.
Brother!
Here, take this.
Thank you, brother.
I promise you
that we'll split the winnings.
San Gregorio, 12
I have your share
It must be at least 50 ducats!
Money comes and goes.
It doesn't give life,
it helps make it bearable.
But I didn't summon you here
for the money.
Listen to me.
Come with me, look...
I'm old, worn out and sick.
I don't have much time left.
I'll depart this world
without leaving anything...
to ennoble a life
wasted between gaming tables
and moneylenders.
With one exception...
She's my only daughter.
Her mother died in childbirth.
I love her more than anything else.
- Beatrice!
- No.
Not Beatrice.
Annetta.
Annetta!
Swear to me
that you'll look after her
when I'm dead.
I swear.
I cannot.
I'm unworthy of your trust.
Stop!
Lorenzo Da Ponte.
You are under arrest in the name
of the Holy Inquisition.
The tribunal of the Holy Inquisition
finds you guilty of conspiring
against Church and State.
For violating the oath
to observe the rules that bind you
to Our Lord, Jesus Christ.
For licentiousness,
forbidden affiliation
to a Masonic fraternity,
blasphemy,
sacrilege
and public concubinage.
And as an example and warning
to the whole population...
we condemn you...
to fifteen years in exile
and to banishment...
from the Republic of Venice.
Splendid!
You had a narrow escape.
Come on, a mouthful for each year.
With your talent,
you'll easily find work in Vienna.
Besides, it's a beautiful city
full of people open to new ideas.
We're respected there.
It's a letter to Antonio Salieri,
composer to the emperor's court.
He'll help you.
Just introduce yourself to him
with my recommendations.
You don't know how grateful
I am to you, Maestro.
Your wise teachings have guided
me over the years.
And now I'll never be able
to repay you for saving my life.
Oh my God!
Look!
Stop.
Don Giovanni!
This Don Giovanni
was doomed to failure.
Quite right
when they ill-treated a character
worthy of loftier consideration.
- Well, sir?
- Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you.
Allow me to introduce myself.
I am Lorenzo Da Ponte.
Pleased to meet you,
brother Lorenzo.
I'm Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
- Odd. I thought I knew everyone.
- Actually, I've just arrived.
I was going to the Court theatre
but your music attracted me.
- Are you a musician?
- No, a writer and poet.
I'm looking for a fellow countryman:
Antonio Salieri. He's a musician.
Yes... the great Antonio Salieri!
The great Italian family.
I'm pleased, you're in good hands.
Salieri enjoys
the favour of those in power.
Brother Lorenzo...
welcome to Vienna
and good luck.
A titbit of a lover
All of a sudden found
To discover that he's mad
Weighs heavy on the heart
Weighs heavy on the heart
I don't want a critical,
sober lover who'll bore me
But critical and a madman
But critical and a madman
That would be even worse
That would be even worse
A titbit of a lover
All of a sudden found
To discover that he's mad
Weighs heavy on the heart
This...
is downright rudeness!
And you, Maestro Salieri,
how can you tolerate such rudeness
without intervening?
Please, Madam Cavalieri,
there's no need to get angry.
I want him jocular and lively
He must jest, laugh, dance and sing
With a quip or story ready
Gallant manners, gay words
and of witty disposition
And if he must go mad
It must be mad with love
And if he must go mad
It must be mad with love
But critical...
Critical and a madman...
Madwoman
Well, a brief pause for everyone.
This is downright rudeness!
Is this how Vienna treats artists?
Is this how fine singing
is extolled here?
- Listen, my love...
- Don't say a word.
You wanted to humiliate me,
putting that hussy in your opera.
Maestro Salieri,
I am Lorenzo Da Ponte,
I've just arrived
and I wanted to ask you...
Wait for me outside please.
- I can't attend to you now.
- Giacomo Casanova sent me.
Excuse me
if I appeared unfriendly.
It hasn't been
a particularly easy day.
Your Majesty!
Your visit is a great honour.
The honour is mine, you know
how your work stirs me.
But perhaps I chose a bad time.
You told me there were
rehearsals today.
Your Excellency,
the Count is correct.
But we were just taking
a brief pause.
- We'll start again immediately.
- Do not trouble yourself, I can wait.
Even like this,
there's much to admire.
And how is our second Grace,
Madam Ferrarese?
Your idea to reunite
Madams Cavalieri and Ferrarese
in my new opera
is proving to be most excellent.
In fact, I'd even say wonderful!
Your Majesty, may I present
Lorenzo Da Ponte,
a dear friend and talented poet
just arrived from Venice.
It is a great joy
to find myself in the presence of
Europe's wisest
and most enlightened monarch.
You are respected and admired
in Venice.
- So, you are a poet.
- Yes, Your Majesty.
And also a priest,
libertine and troublemaker.
A reputation that does not
befit me, Sire.
Mr Da Ponte has left Venice
and is looking for employment.
Perhaps Your Majesty
can do something for him.
Of course.
Vienna needs new poets
with a reformist impulse,
especially in opera.
Why not entrust him with the libretto
of your next work?
Forgive me, but I'm afraid
I wouldn't be capable.
I've never written opera lyrics.
Lack of experience
is not a serious hindrance.
On the contrary,
we need new talent, new ideas
to renew our opera.
And Maestro Salieri
is in full agreement.
We'll have fresh inspiration.
May I remind you
that Maestro Salieri is already
in talks with our poet...
Oh yes, Casti.
I'd quite forgotten.
But there's a remedy for that.
Is there another composer
with whom you'd like to work?
Why not Mozart?
Our little rebel from Salzburg!
Excellent idea!
Mozart has been wanting to broach
an opera in Italian, and so he shall.
And to the sound of the gay march
Let's hasten to the revelry
Let's hasten to the revelry
Let's hasten
Let's hasten
Let's hasten to the revelry
Let's hasten
Let's hasten to the revelry
The revelry
The revelry
Your friend Lorenzo fobs you off
with his worst lyrics
and saves his best poems
for Mozart
and that strumpet Ferrarese.
You ladies
Who know what love is
See if it is
What I have in my heart
See if it is
what I have in my heart
All that I feel
I will explain
Since it is new to me
I don't understand it
I have a feeling
Full of desire
Which now is pleasure
Now is torment
I freeze, then I feel
My spirit all ablaze...
Forgive me my friend,
I didn't hear you come in.
I'm glad you didn't undertake
the voyage from Vienna alone.
Allow me to introduce a dear friend,
Madam...
Adriana Ferrarese!
The unequalled soprano.
I was in raptures when I heard
"The Marriage of Figaro" in Prague.
But now...
seeing you closely,
I must say the rest of your person
fully honours your splendid voice.
And I see that the stories
I heard about you...
were not far-fetched.
Poor me! Those are not stories,
but history.
At my age,
I've reached the peace of the senses.
And the spirit's task is to lovingly
administer the memories
those senses recall.
His Excellency, the Duke of Dux
has entrusted me with the care
of his magnificent library.
Now I live among
dreams and desires
written down...
among mad adventures,
secrets and impossible loves.
Books have become my consolation.
We all have a book capable
of moving us, isn't that so?
This one...
is waiting for you.
No...
it is for you.
It looks like the book I saw
the day I was baptized.
It does not look like, it is.
After you were banished
I found it in a bookshop
and I thought I'd buy it
and give it to you.
When we took leave
you were a banished wretch
and now you're one of the most
acclaimed lyric writers in Europe.
Thanks to your
recommending me to Salieri.
He helped me enter
the world of music.
Forget Salieri.
He's an excellent musician
but his obligations at court
are a great limit for him.
You must work with Mozart again,
he's a truly talented artist.
Your Figaro...
delicious, light,
full of imagination:
The future.
This is the path you must follow.
That's what I keep telling him.
After the triumph of Figaro,
Lorenzo must work
with Mozart again.
And, of course... with me.
You should be aware
of who has renounced my voice,
because Salieri is a boor.
He imposes his mistress,
La Cavalieri...
and all she's capable of doing
to perfection is...
well, you can imagine.
Salieri is not a boor,
La Cavalieri is not a prostitute
and I am not married to Mozart.
The truth is that Mozart
has very singular tastes
and refuses all the operas
that are proposed to him.
If you want, I have a story
worthy of your talents.
What?
A new Don Giovanni.
Come along,
you have guests waiting.
- Who?
- Da Ponte and Salieri.
- Send them away, I'm not interested.
- They want you to write a new opera.
They've already given us
a handsome advance.
Don't let yourself be taken in,
negotiate a decent fee.
Remember that we can't even
pay the maid
and neither of us are in good health.
I must take the waters in Switzerland
and medical cures are...
Enough of your whining!
Always telling me what to do!
Stanzi...
I'm sorry.
You know there's nothing in the world
I care about more than you.
Let's hear what these two
scheming Italians have to say.
My dear Maestro!
Good Lord, you're frozen.
- Maestro Salieri.
- Maestro Mozart.
I am here to inform you
that His Majesty
has charged you with composing
a new opera.
In Italian, of course.
And aided by the poetic talents
of our friend Da Ponte.
The Emperor was pleased
with "The Marriage of Figaro".
We shall do our best to please
His Majesty again.
Well then...
permit me to enjoin you both
to avoid any scandal,
since the subject you will broach
is risqu in itself.
What is it?
All in due course, Maestro.
When staging an opera,
one must be mindful of good manners,
as if one were at a banquet.
One must infuse a little sweetness
into the public's daily travails.
Therefore,
if you'll allow me to suggest,
you should compose music that is
simple, light and listenable.
Then even delicate palates
will digest and savour the show.
Sweetness, banquet,
savour, digest!
If I understand correctly,
Maestro Salieri,
composing an opera is like
baking a pudding to you.
Let's see...
Iovesickness is the egg.
A spot of intrigue, the flour.
And the comic interlude
is the sugar!
Then, this lovely mixture
of Maestro Da Ponte's words
and my music
is popped into the oven
until the pudding is ready.
Please excuse me, gentlemen...
I have other business to attend to.
Make a good job of it.
You're too harsh with him.
Salieri is much more sensitive
than he appears.
Tell me of this risqu subject
that Salieri mentioned.
An opera that will cause
more of a stir than "Figaro".
- Namely?
- "Don Giovanni".
"Don Giovanni"?
- It's been done so many times!
- But not our way!
We'll unveil a version
that no one will forget!
You know there's something of me
in everything I write.
That which I feel,
that which I love...
I leave shreds of my life
on the manuscript!
It's more than just work to me!
My music is like an inner flame
that consumes me.
Why should I suffer
for such a second-rate tale?
To convince you,
I'll relate the opening.
Imagine...
a man wrapped in a voluminous cloak
stealing through woods
around a luxurious dwelling.
The snow falls. It's night.
A full moon looks down from the sky,
but its beams are blue, not white.
In this blissful landscape
we see a man,
his face concealed by a large hat.
As you've guessed,
it's Don Giovanni,
out to seduce Donna Anna,
a young noblewoman.
In a bedroom
on an upper floor...
a beautiful maiden, Donna Anna,
is sleeping in a spacious bed.
Through the spotless white
of her nightgown
we discern a luscious body,
but we cannot see her face
because her back is turned on us.
She is restless, her long hair
flowing over the pillows.
The balcony door is open,
and between the billowing curtains
we see Don Giovanni's silhouette.
He enters Donna Anna's room.
He undresses.
Don Giovanni can control himself
no more.
He whispers into Donna Anna's ear:
"Donna Anna... my love...
my life."
Donna Anna...
my love, my life.
Donna Anna realizes that it is not
her betrothed, but a stranger.
Help! Assistance!
Don Giovanni leaps from the bed,
dons his garments as best he can
and with a daring,
cat-like leap from the balcony,
lands in the open space
before the house.
He then flees into the woods.
Still shrieking, Donna Anna
looks out from the balcony.
Help! Assistance!
Don Giovanni disappears
through the spectral trees.
A dazzling beginning,
sensual and audacious.
But of course,
this is just the background.
What?
We can't begin the opera like that,
it would cause an outrage!
It would never open.
Have you forgotten
Salieri's recommendations?
What do I care
about Salieri's recommendations?
All right then, how will we start?
We'll start outside the house.
With Don Giovanni leaping down
and fleeing?
Firstly, he must fight
a duel with the Commandant,
Donna Anna's father
who has come to her aid.
The Commandant draws his sword
and confronts the rake.
It's an uneven match,
Don Giovanni is an able swordsman.
He kills the Commandant
with a thrust through the heart!
The whole premise
is based on that killing.
Because once the Commandant is dead,
he will return
at the end of the opera...
as a marble statue.
You wish to start like that?
Slap in the middle of a duel,
without acquainting the public
with the basics of the story?
As Don Giovanni enters
Donna Anna's bedroom...
someone is acting as lookout
down below.
Who is it?
- Leporello.
- Leporello?
Of course!
Don Giovanni's manservant...
who is always in trouble
because of his master's follies!
A clownish manservant,
how original!
When one wants to raise a laugh
but has no imagination,
one introduces a servant in a mess
because of his master.
Leporello! Well done, Da Ponte!
"Thus I'm tortur'd
night and day."
Yes, my love.
Remember you promised me
a scene to myself.
An aria to show off
my full range of talents.
You know me so well,
write me a beautiful aria, my love!
Yes, my love.
I love you.
I love you too, Adriana.
"Thus I'm tortur'd night and day
and no thanks I ever get.
Now I'm chilled by piercing winds.
Now with rain
I'm dripping wet.
I'm resolved to change my state
and be a gentleman so great."
Some milk.
Wolfi, you've written so little!
You've had your nose
to the grindstone all morning!
Please, my love, I'm working.
What is it?
It's unlike you to spend
so many hours on so little verse.
It's not easy.
This is the opera's first aria,
the most important:
It must win the public over!
Come on, let's go!
"Thus I'm tortured night and day
And no thanks I ever get..."
Dearest, let me compose in peace.
- Stop now, or you'll be late.
- For what?
Today's lesson, heaven above!
I'd forgotten.
- Send a messenger to cancel it.
- Cancel it?
- I have to work, I cannot go.
- Come on!
We need the money.
Tidy yourself up and go.
Maestro?
- Are you all right?
- Of course, dear.
- Can we go from the reprise again?
- Yes.
I'm resolved to change my state,
yes, yes, yes!
And be a gentleman so great
- What do you think, Annetta?
- Is it from your next opera?
Yes!
Excuse me, is Lorenzo Da Ponte
your librettist?
Yes.
- Do you know him?
- He was friend to my father.
I'm resolved to change my state
And be a gentleman so great
I'm resolved to change my state
Yes, and be a gentleman so great
Not bad, Leporello.
No sooner has Leporello finished
than you enter, breathless.
Still trying to dress after
fleeing from Donna Anna.
Donna Anna, in her nightgown,
follows Don Giovanni
and shrieks with fright
and indignation,
since a stranger has molested her
in her sleep.
She grabs Don Giovanni's arm,
withstanding his violent tugging.
You must conceal your face
with the cloak.
Donna Anna must not see you,
you're a stranger to her! Try.
Till thy name I've learn'd thou viper,
from this spot thou shalt not go.
Foolish girl, beware my fury!
Who I am thou ne'er shalt know.
- Villain tremble! Help, what ho!
- Be silent or my rage you'll rue.
- Miscreant!
- Impudent woman!
Well done!
Till thy name I've learn'd thou viper
from this spot thou shalt not go
Foolish girl, beware my fury!
Who I am thou ne'er shalt know
Till thy name I've learn'd
thou viper...
What a tumult! Oh what screaming!
My master's in some trouble now!
Villain tremble! Help, what ho!
Be silent or my rage you'll rue
- Miscreant!
- Impudent woman!
Miscreant!
Some fearful act!
And I must share it too.
I'm desperate,
and my persecutor fain would know
Some fearful act she'll surely
make me do
Miscreant!
Some fearful act!
And I must share it too
- Miscreant!
- Impudent woman!
Miscreant!
Be silent or rue
I'm desperate
and my persecutor fain would know
Some fearful act she'll surely
make me do
Some fearful act!
And I must share it too.
Unhand her, villain
Turn and defend thee
Hence fool. I deign not
with thee to combat
Dost thou fear me?
Dost from me fly?
I wish I could
I think I'll try
Hence fool: I deign not
Dost thou fear me?
Dost from me fly?
- Coward!
- Tremble!
Tremble, for thou
Must surely die
Ah, great Heaven
- Powers of Mercy
- The meddling fool lies prostrate
'Neath t'assassin's hand expiring
Agony his frame is wringing
Terror dire, my blood congealing
thru my veins like ice is stealing
Forth, from out my quiv'ring bosom
fast the life-blood wells away
Fast his soul its flight is winging
as his life-blood wells away
I know not what to do or say
I know not what to do or say
Terror dire, my blood congealing
thru my veins like ice is stealing
I know not what to do or say
Very good.
And now a well-deserved break.
Madam Cavalieri, magnificent!
Commandant, perfect.
A couple of things...
Annetta...
is it really you?
I told Mozart
that I would like to see
preparations for an opera.
I hoped to meet you here,
but I was afraid of seeing you too.
- Afraid, why?
- You need to ask?
The first time I saw you in Venice,
it was like a dream come true.
I felt a sensation
completely unknown to me.
But you fled from me
as if I were the devil himself.
In your presence
I felt dazzled by a perfection,
by a harmony that I never thought
could actually exist.
Life gave me a gift
that I did not truly deserve.
I felt unworthy, without appeal.
My father heard you were exiled
and had come here to Vienna.
He wanted to join you,
but was too ill to come.
- I'm sorry.
- And after his death
I decided to abandon Venice
and move here.
Why did you not look for me
immediately?
I had no wish to be
one of your many trophies.
What are you referring to?
Your notorious womanising
and dissolute life.
Wait.
I dedicated these verses to you.
See, that's your name.
They're for you.
"Then with thy hand in mine, dear,
thou'lt whisper gently yes.
The castle's lord be thine dear
Come, and thy lover bless."
Annetta...
my love.
It no longer makes a difference
if I believe you or not.
What do you mean?
It is too late.
Why?
I am betrothed,
I am to marry next month.
Who?
Not you. Forgive me.
Adriana, what a surprise,
what are you doing here?
Who is she?
- Who?
- Don't feign ignorance.
Annetta Dei Fiorini.
A pupil of Mozart's.
How can you be jealous?
She can't even sing.
You start rehearsals without me
yet ask me that?
You promised me a leading role
but shut me out.
- I'll be a laughing-stock!
- What do you mean, my love?
Today we only rehearsed
the opening scenes.
Of course, now you have that
Cavalieri whore.
And in exchange for her favours,
you gave her the lead role.
Please, calm down.
Your jealousy
is driving you to madness.
I had to give her a small role
to gain Salieri's support
or Don Giovanni wouldn't
have been approved at Court.
And my role?
It just needs a few corrections,
a little polishing.
I promise you that in a few days
you may start rehearsals.
And stop thinking I chase
other women behind your back.
Even La Cavalieri!
How absurd.
You are my one and only.
My nightingale.
Ladies and gentlemen...
let me introduce Lorenzo Da Ponte.
My lover.
He swore love and fidelity to me.
And after many lies,
he has now abandoned me.
Without even having the guts
to tell me face to face.
Leave me alone, you madwoman.
Is this how you repay all I did
for you, you wretch?
Maestro, I've been searching for you
all over town!
I must speak with you,
I hope it's not inconvenient.
Of course not.
- There's deep trouble ahead.
- The new scenes aren't ready?
If only that were the extent of it.
- La Ferrarese...
- Has cut La Cavalieri's throat.
Cavalieri cut Ferrarese's throat?
They cut each other's throats?
I'm being serious!
I dismissed La Ferrarese today.
Now do you understand the gravity
of this dilemma?
Full well.
La Ferrarese
wants to cut your throat!
Forgive me, I don't mean
to laugh at your misfortune.
But that woman
is as poisonous as a viper.
I wouldn't like to be in your shoes.
I advise you to let things lie,
time erases everything.
You don't understand!
We're in trouble:
Me, you and the opera.
What do the opera and myself
have to do with this?
That woman is vindictive,
I've a feeling she's out to ruin
"Don Giovanni" to get at me.
Believe me, we're up against
Machiavelli in a corset.
Machiavelli in a corset...
She can't do a thing if she
doesn't have a role in the opera.
That's the point: I promised her
a leading role that doesn't exist!
A leading role?
What about a proud woman,
seduced and abandoned,
who swears revenge?
Of course...
Besides Donna Anna,
let's put a second enraged woman
on Don Giovanni's heels.
I at least hope this character
won't be called Adriana Ferrarese!
What about...
Donna Elvira?
Why these sighs?
What checks my utterances?
Though by him I've been neglected
Though my peace has fled, alas!
Though his falseness
I've detected
Prayers for him my lips still pass
Though by him I've been neglected...
When I think on wrongs I'm bearing
Vengeance only steels my heart
When I see him perils sharing...
After our first meeting,
I asked myself
if it is enough for
a man of your stature
to leave just a book of memoirs
for posterity.
And so I thought of Lorenzo.
He shares many characteristics
with you.
And the Don Giovanni
that you suggested to him
with such sly dexterity...
is partly a mirror-image
of your own life.
And?
Would you like Don Giovanni
to marry and turn into...
a faithful little husband?
Explain.
Lorenzo believes he's met
the woman of his dreams.
He's in seventh heaven.
And he's even shared the joy
for his new love with...
Don Giovanni.
You're a jealous woman.
I'm starting to get bored.
This is not a trick.
See for yourself.
This...
is the marriage scene.
Written by his own hand
and distributed yesterday.
What do you want from me, Adriana?
Annetta...
Her name is Annetta
and she is part of his Venetian past.
I'm sure she wouldn't like to hear
about all Lorenzo's conquests.
Take it and read.
You have perspicaciously noted
that I modelled Lorenzo
in my image.
By way of comparison,
I noted all his conquests
with great attention to detail,
I assure you.
You may copy the list, if you wish.
Some names can even debunk
stories I heard.
Of course, I wouldn't want
Lorenzo to know.
Bastard!
Even Gertrude, my maid!
You appear on the list too.
Prayers for him!
Prayers for him my lips still pass!
I am Lorenzo Da Ponte.
I'm looking for Miss Dei Fiorini.
- Is she at home?
- I'm sorry, I don't know.
I'll go and see.
Lorenzo, what are you doing here?
I came to pay a courtesy call
and bring flowers.
I am betrothed, I can't accept them.
Annetta, who is it?
You misunderstand,
they are not for you.
Please, come into the salon, sir.
- Allow me to introduce myself...
- I know who you are, Mr Da Ponte.
I am delighted to meet you,
Madam Dei Fiorini.
I had the great fortune of being
acquainted with your brother.
A kind gentleman.
My brother, rest his soul,
was an idler who squandered
the family fortune
at the gaming table.
But please, Mr Da Ponte,
sit down.
Adele,
put these flowers in a vase.
Excuse the disorder,
we were folding sheets.
You must forgive me,
I called unannounced.
Let me help you
with the chore I've interrupted.
I told my aunt
you're writing the libretto
for Mozart's new opera.
We were bewitched by
"The Marriage of Figaro".
I'm flattered. I hope my new opera
will also be to your liking.
Why have you come?
We'd said everything.
You did not forbid me
from seeing you again.
Besides, I wouldn't have obeyed you.
Why not tell us something
of your new opera?
It's the story of a libertine,
a subject that may seem indelicate,
but our treatment of it
reaches a highly moral conclusion.
It tells of a dissolute
who places the fatuity of vice
above genuine feelings,
until a woman kindles within him
a love he's never felt.
He decides to change his life,
and give himself to his
redeeming angel.
Forgive my prying,
but is all this linen
part of your trousseau?
You are inquisitive, but to satisfy
your curiosity: No, it isn't.
But tell us more
about this redeeming angel.
A maiden betrothed to another man.
His love seems impossible.
He's desperate, but doesn't desist.
She feels
the same rapture for him,
but doubts his sincerity...
though she finally realises
his love is genuine.
You see, the story ends
both happily and instructively.
I am not betrothed.
I am not about to marry.
Annetta...
how can you still doubt me?
Why don't you open the door?
Excuse me.
Miss, this was delivered for you.
I never want
to see or hear from you again!
You and your glib tongue!
Get out of this house
and my life,
and don't you dare come back.
Were you working all night again?
You promised to take
more care of yourself.
You can't go on like this,
your health is already poor.
Don't worry,
it's just a spot of tiredness.
A cup of hot coffee and I'll be fine.
I'll make some immediately,
but lie down.
At your request
See, here I come
I am your guest...
My dear!
Gently...
It's nothing, just a mild attack.
I'm all right.
Forget this "Don Giovanni",
it's ruining your health!
What?
The work is almost complete.
And wasn't it you who insisted
I accept it?
I know.
It was a serious mistake.
This damned opera is killing you.
Don't be so dramatic.
I can't leave an opera unfinished.
We can't afford
to give the advance back.
Besides,
"Don Giovanni" is a splendid work.
Splendid?
The lecherous adventures
of a sexually excited degenerate?
That kind of rubbish could only
appeal to your friend Da Ponte,
who's not much better
than Don Giovanni.
Maestro Casanova,
Lorenzo tells me that you
are the true inspirer of our opera.
I cannot tell you how thrilled I am
to know that you have set
"Don Giovanni" to music.
This is not childish adulation,
this is one of the most
important moments of my life.
Thank you.
Allow me to introduce our Leporello.
And our Don Giovanni.
Pleased to meet you.
Young, handsome...
We're waiting for Donna Elvira,
she's about to arrive.
- Isn't that so, Lorenzo?
- Yes.
The scent of the theatre...
Here she is.
What a nice surprise, Mr Casanova!
You look wonderful, Adriana.
Our Lorenzo is truly brilliant.
His ideas are so astonishing
that I sometimes wonder
where he gets his inspiration!
Let's sit down,
you can enjoy an advance preview.
I read here that Don Giovanni's
Italian conquests number 320.
Permit me a little national pride,
but such a miserable score
gives the impression
that our hero looks down
on Italian beauties.
Why don't we increase it?
In Spain his total is 703...
Ladies and gentlemen,
he's the world's greatest seducer.
Is it possible that
in his own country he chalks up
such a poor result?
Let's be more lavish.
- Let's make it 1,003.
- 1,003?
Pray behold, ma'am,
in this long list I've made, is:
An account
of my master's fair ladies!
Not Jove
so renown'd for his trade is:
Pray observe it,
and read it with me!
Pray observe it,
and read it with me!
First in Italy, ma'am,
seven hundred
Then in Germany
eight may be number'd
Then in Turkey and France,
one and ninety
But in Spain, ma'am...
But in Spain, ma'am
one thousand and three!
One thousand and three
One thousand and three
Here are chambermaids
by dozens
City dames and country cousins
Countesses and Baronesses
Marchionesses and Princesses,
all descriptions, ages, classes
Not a woman could go free
Could go free
First in Rome,
we have seven hundred...
I don't wish to meddle with
your muse's whisperings,
but I gather that you intend
to end the opera
with a chastened Don Giovanni who
even goes so far as to marry
the love of his life.
Is that true?
All nonsense.
Whoever told you such rubbish?
Baronesses, Marchionesses,
Princesses
All descriptions, ages, classes
not a woman could go free
Not a woman could go free
Not a woman could go free
First the fair one
He bewitches
By the softness
Of his speeches
Makes the brown ones
In a fever
Warmly vowing
Love forever
With the pale ones
he will languish
Melt and sigh in tender anguish
The great
And tall ones
Sometimes warm him
But the short ones
But the short ones
But the short ones
always charm him
He who loves but one woman
is merely a selfish oaf.
High and low, ma'am,
young and old, ma'am
Own the music
Of his tongue, ma'am
Though if I must
tell the truth, ma'am
He'd give the choice
to youth, ma'am
Ugly, pretty, fat or thin
Something a petticoat within
Something a petticoat within
It matters not,
For, short or tall
'Tis very plain
He loves them all
'Tis very plain
He loves them all
'Tis very plain he loves them all
Excellent. Thank you!
Please excuse me for a moment.
I'm sorry to hear
about your father, Wolfgang.
My heartfelt condolences.
Thank you, Lorenzo.
Don't leave me alone.
I loved my father.
He was often unjust
and cruel with me.
He obliged me to play the piano
instead of playing
with the other children.
But I was a prodigy,
touched by the gods.
I received compliments,
I was applauded wherever I went.
And my father reaped the benefits.
I was suffocating
in the world he built around me.
He'd hound me continually so he could
earn more money off me.
Always for the good of the family.
One day he told me that if I didn't
do as he said,
the devil would come
and bear me away.
What do you think of that?
His very words.
The devil would bear me away.
Yet, despite all this, I loved him.
Very much.
I loved him and feared him.
I feared his rebukes, his criticism.
He distanced himself when he realized
my music was better than his.
He was jealous of his own son!
Of my popularity!
He wanted to have
complete control over my life,
he'd always tell me what to do.
He loathed Costanza.
When we married he sent me a letter:
He wrote that I was in debt to him
for all the money
he had invested in me.
What do you think of that?
What meanness.
Sometimes, in my thoughts,
in my dreams...
I wished for his death.
Ah, great Heaven! Powers of mercy!
Come along, Mozart!
You're merely upset.
You must get over this misfortune
and there's nothing better
than work for that.
I cannot continue
with "Don Giovanni".
My wife is right, it's bad for me.
I must stop.
- What are you saying?
- You haven't understood?
If I complete this opera,
I will damage my soul.
That's absurd!
If you feel something
burdening you inside,
see a priest and ask him
to give you absolution.
Why don't you give me absolution?
I didn't mean that...
- Aren't you a priest?
- Yes, but it's been a long time...
I beg of you,
if you really are my friend...
free me from this torment.
Kneel down.
Well done!
Bringing me here
was a splendid idea.
Well done!
The best thing you can do
is forget Annetta.
Stop thinking about that woman.
That depends on you.
Are you going to name
a serenade after her?
It's your fault
if my heart is broken.
What do you mean?
It was through you
that I met Annetta again.
You're the culprit.
The Vizier!
- Were you bored, my beauty?
- Yes, my love.
Without you,
the minutes are never-ending.
My love,
I brought you this jewel
as a token of my feelings.
You are doing me
an invaluable service.
It's difficult to replace a musician
who falls ill at the last moment.
It's an honour for me to play
with so many virtuosos.
I don't know if
I'm equal to the task. Look.
You're merely afraid
of being in the forefront.
Annetta, you are my best pupil.
Once you begin to play,
your fears will disappear.
Thank you.
Maestro, are you sure...
That he will not come?
Of course.
- Which ring do you like most?
- This one.
The biggest.
Very well.
At length, my sweet Zerlina,
we are rid
Of this troublesome fellow
Say, then, my angel,
have I not well contriv'd?
My lord, he is my lover
What? He?
Do you think that a nobleman
A man of rank, as I am
Can suffer such bewitching beauty
To be profaned
By such a base clown?
But, my lord,
I have promis'd to marry him
Such a promise is void in itself
You were not born to be
the wife of a country booby
Those roguish eyes
Those pouting lips
Those little fingers,
so white and tapering
Ensure you
A better fortune
Ah, but I would not...
Would not what?
Not like to be imposed upon
I have heard that noblemen
are seldom frank and sincere
With women
It is vile calumny of the vulgar
Nobility and honour
always go together
But do not let us lose time
This very moment I will marry you
You?
Certainly
That house you see is mine
There we shall be alone
And there, my angel
We will be married
Then with thy hand in mine
Thou'lt whisper gently yes
The castle's lord be thine
Come and thy lover bless
I would, and yet I would not
My breast with terror heaves
'Twould be the happiest lot
Unless this lord deceives
Come, then, with me, my beauty
Masetto claims my duty
I wish to change thy state, love
I yield myself to fate, love
Come then
Then with thy hand in mine
I would and I would not
Thou'lt whisper gently yes
My breast with terror heaves
Come and thy lover bless
Unless this lord deceives
Come, then, with me, my beauty
Masetto claims my duty
I wish to change they state, love
I yield myself to fate, love
Then come
Then come
Then come
And share with me the pleasure
Of innocence and love
Of innocence and love
How did it go?
For the best.
- Annetta?
- She played perfectly.
That's not what I meant.
What did she say?
She left immediately
after the rehearsal.
She said nothing about me?
You must have patience
and let her contemplate in peace.
Meanwhile, occupy your mind
with other things.
Perhaps you could finish
the opera's concluding scenes.
May I remind you that we open
in less than a week.
You'll fall ill out here.
Why not stay and dine with us?
Lorenzo Da Ponte!
Come and make love with me.
Come on, Lorenzo!
I'll warm you up.
It's so cold.
I left the door open for you.
You were so certain
that I would come?
No.
But I hoped.
And now you're here with me.
Good heavens, Lorenzo.
You're boiling hot.
Wait.
Don Giovanni has extended
a dinner invitation to the statue
of the Commandant he killed.
He certainly doesn't expect
the Commandant to accept.
Let's go then.
Repent!
And change thy life,
or thy last hour has come!
No, no.
I'll not repent.
Far hence, away, begone!
Lost man! Repent!
No, obstinate old man.
- Repent!
- No.
Repent!
No!
No...
Are you truly convinced, Lorenzo?
No?
Why not, for once, abandon
this inane journey to hell
and fly upwards to heaven?
A goal would save his soul.
The just price
for one who has been
a slave to earthly pleasures.
Let us save his soul,
let her say no.
No.
Don Giovanni must accept
his responsibilities.
Otherwise he would be a hypocrite.
You yourself said:
"A moment of earthly life was worth
more than eternity to him."
I said that?
Well, so what?
Why consign him to the flames?
You see me in him
and wish to condemn me?
No, Giacomo.
I recognize myself in Don Giovanni.
If that's so, then his fall
would also be yours.
I only see part of my life in him,
that part that I now wish
to free myself of.
Why?
For her?
For a love story,
for love!
All my lessons scattered to the winds.
Freedom!
You do not, perhaps,
approve of our love?
I'm sorry.
I act according to my conscience.
Oh, my lord, for mercy's sake
Not a step now farther go
The man of stone, the man in white
Ah, my lord, I'm fainting quite
If you'd seen his dreadful figure
if you'd heard his footsteps sound
This I do not understand
Certainly you are gone mad
'Tis someone knocking
- Open
- I tremble
Open, I say!
Open!
So, this prodigy to witness
I must myself unclose the door
I do not wish to see him more
and I'll hide myself at once
Don Giovanni
At your request
See, here I come
I am your guest
Never could I have believ'd it
But I'll do the best I can
Leporello, another supper
order them at once to bring
Ah, my lord, I freeze with horror
Go, I say!
Pause an instant!
We partake not earthly banquets
Who with
Heavenly food are fed
By other motives
Hither led
Other cares
Have brought me here
Speak!
What would you? I attend
While I speak, listen!
My minutes are few!
Speak, speak! I'm all attention
Listen!
My minutes are few!
Speak, speak!
I am all attention
Thou didst invite me here
And now I invite thee!
Reply!
Reply!
Wilt thou come
to be a guest with me?
Alas, we have no time, excuse us
The stain of coward fear
Shall never spot my name
Decide then!
Already I've resolv'd
Thou wilt come?
Say no!
Doubt dwells in my bosom
No fear have I: I'll come!
Give me thy hand, in proof!
Take it
- What is it?
- What chill freezes my heart?
Repent and change thy life,
or thy last hour is come!
No, no, I'll not repent.
Far hence, away, begone!
Lost man, once more, repent!
No, obstinate old man!
- Repent!
- No!
- Yes!
- No!
Henceforth 'twill be too late!
Through ev'ry nerve I tremble
and icy chill o'erpowers me!
What mean these dreadful gulfs
that open to devour me?
Horror more dire awaits thee!
And dread is thy dark doom!
My heart bursts in my bosom
the serpents gnaw my vitals
What torture, oh, what madness!
What horror! What despair!
What cries! What lamentations!
They pierce my heart with woe!
My heart bursts in my bosom
The serpents gnaw my vitals
What torture, oh, what madness!
What horror! What despair!
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.
Thank you everyone.
- Ladies and gentlemen.
- Well done, my dear Mozart.
Excellent work. Well done.
- Thank you, Your Majesty.
- Yes, excellent work...
but the point is...
how can one put it...
It seems a rather heavy dish for
the palates of my Viennese subjects.
A heavy dish, Your Majesty?
Then why not give them time
to digest it,
Sire?
What impertinence, Your Majesty!
Mozart is finished...
Thank you for your sensitivity
and wisdom.
It is I who must thank you.
It was worth it, being contaminated
by you and your demons!
And by my own. Thank you.
- Annetta, did you like the opera?
- Are you that Don Giovanni?
I was, but I came back from hell
to be with you.
Sir, try to behave more fittingly.
Who are you
to tell me how to behave?
That is Lorenzo Da Ponte.
The librettist of the opera.
It's disgraceful!
With what effrontery do they dare
to portray the doings of a libertine!
I liked it.
The music was magnificent.
W. Amadeus Mozart died
at the age of 35.
Lorenzo Da Ponte died in New York
married with children, aged 87.