The Blood of a Poet (1932) Movie Script

THE BLOOD OF A POE Every poem is a coat of arms.
It must be deciphered.
Nothing but blood and tears
in exchange for these axes, faces,
unicorns, torches,
towers, blackbirds,
and fields of azure!
Free to choose the faces,
forms, gestures,
tones, acts and places
which please him,
he uses them to compose a realist
documentary of unreal events.
The musician underscores
the sounds and silences.
The author dedicates this group
of allegories to Pisanello,
Paolo Uccello, Piero Della Francesca
and Andrea Del Castagno,
painters of coats of arms
and puzzles.
Episode one.
The Wounded Hand,
or The Scars of the Poet.
While, in the distance,
the cannons of Fontenoy boomed,
in a modest room, a young man...
Fleeing the painting and infecting
the naked hand like leprosy,
the drowned mouth
seemed to be fading away
in a smallzone of white light.
The following morning...
The sleeper seen up close,
or the surprises of photography.
...or how I was trapped
by my own film
It's dangerous enough as it is,
wiping oneself on the furniture.
And he is right
to wake the statues with a start,
after their centuries-long sleep.
Episode two.
Do Walls Have Ears?
Do you think it's that easy
to get rid of a wound?
To close the mouth of a wound?
Open up!
You have one possibility left.
Enter the mirror
and walk around there.
I congratulate you.
You wrote
that we entered the mirror,
and you didn't believe it!
Keep trying.
The inside of the mirror led
to the hotel of dramatic follies.
In the early morning, Mexico,
the burial pits of Vincennes,
the Boulevard Arago
and a hotel room
are of equal worth.
The mysteries of China.
Room 19, celestial ceiling.
In room 23,
desperate hermaphrodites met.
- Don't switch it off!
- Yes!
Seize the butt of the gun
with both hands.
Release the safety catch.
Place the index finger
on the trigger.
Press the barrel against the temple
and fire!
Always glory!
I've had enough! Enough!
Shit, shit, shit!
Mirrors ought to think a bit
before reflecting images.
Breaking statues,
one risks
becoming one
More glory, always glory!
Episode three. The Snowball Battle.
The big boys.
The pupil Dargelos
was the class's top dog.
A snowball in his hands
could be as harmful
as Spanish knives.
Episode four.
The Profanation of the Host.
The city that evening
was elegant in the extreme.
If you don't have the ace of hearts,
my dear,
you are lost!
A documentary...
that never ends.
That is how the cheat
imagines his gesture,
faster than lightning.
You should know
that the child's guardian appeared.
He came from an empty house.
His colour was black,
and he limped a little
with his left foot.
His cape billowed out
like an ink stain,
and disappeared beneath the work
of the supernatural character,
growing pale
while absorbing the prey.
Her work done,
the woman became a statue again,
an inhuman thing, with black gloves
denounced by the snow,
on which her gait
would henceforth leave no print.
The deadly boredom of immortality!
The end!
Howard Bonsor, TITRA FILM