Korol-olen (1970) - full transcript

Gorky Film Studio

The Stag King

A fairy tale, written 200 years ago
by Carlo Gozzi

and 200 years later written
for the screen (from memory)

by Vadim Korostylyov

Dramatis personae and cast:

Deramo, King of Serendippo -
Yury Yakovlev

Angela, daughter of Pantalone,
loves Deramo - Valentina Malyavina

Tartaglia, spectacular villain, First
Minister, loves Angela - Sergei Yursky

Pantalone, Second Minister,
loves apples - Vladimir Shlezinger

Clarice, daugher of Tartaglia,
loves Leandro - Yelena Solovey



Leandro, son of Pantalone, brother
of Angela, loves Clarice -Victor Zozulin

Cigolotti, servant of Durandarte,
loves a drink - Oleg Tabakov

The Zanni, who serve also as mimes

The maidens of Serendippo

A Pavel Arsenov film

This happened way back when

fairy tales roamed the land.

Back when goodness was good,

and evil was evil, of course.

This happened way back when

evil had masks to wear, but,

even back then, sometimes,

evil got what it deserved.

This happened way back when



morning arrived in the morning.

Back when night time was dark,

and trouble was trouble, you see.

And back then, occasionally,

the wise
possessed some actual wisdom,

and right now, and right now,

we are going back to then.

Durandarte, kindly magician,
also our narrator - Oleg Yefremov

A man arrived in Serendippo,

a magician, a wizard, a sorcerer.

You are heaven-sent, Durandarte.

King Deramo!

Kindly and good,
unlike all other kings.

- And you are?
- I'll have you know

I am Tartaglia.

- The king's first minister!
- Villain.

- Which type of magic do you prefer?
- What's that, signior?

Dark or light?

All kinds. Green, red, blue.

There is an azure polka-dotted magic,
I know it like the back of my hand.

Where were you tr... tr...

Where were you trained in magic?

First in the School of Mages
in Twotimestwonia,

then I continued
my studies in Threetimesthreece,

then at the Wizard School
at Fivetimesfive,

there I learned what
seven times seven was,

and received my final degree
at Trigonometris.

- So you're no second-rate wizard.
- But let's get to the point.

I'm 30 years old, and I need an heir,
which I unfortunately do not yet have.

Once I had hoped
to find a beauty,

one who would love me sincerely.

But I soon learned that sincerity and
beauty don't go hand in hand in women.

What can I do, Magician?

There is a test I can
perform which could help you.

I've created a statue.

The blockhead would fit
in this niche, I think.

- It's a secret, be qu... quiet!
- What then?

We let it be known that our king

wishes to choose a bride
from the women of Serendippo.

But they'll come in droves,
they'll trample me,

Tartaglia, the guards,
the entire palace!

And yet, you must have a tête-à-tête

with each of them
in your chambers individually.

And if even a single drop of duplicity
seeps into their words,

my stone blockhead
will warn you with a smile.

Then you can send
that young lady away without concern.

But,
if the statue remains stonefaced,

don't hesitate to share the throne
with the woman in front of you.

A priceless gift, Tartaglia!

Send out heralds
to announce the will of the king!

Why, right away.

I sent Tartaglia off because
there is a request I wish to make.

A liar always fears deception.
You can't fool me.

I'd like you to give the statue
Tartaglia's face.

Over 20 years, I've grown accustomed
to my minister's sage advice.

I'd like to take this step in the
presence of his likeness, at least.

I foresaw all this, Deramo.

The blockhead has Tartaglia's face.

Blockhead, blockhead.

We'll see who's the blockhead.

I thank you for this gift. I'd like
to see the statue as soon as possible.

You were the blockhead
after all, Tartaglia.

- What is it made of?
- Sire, this Tartaglia

is made of skin and bone.
The one made of stone

is out in the garden,
waiting to be brought in.

Then let it be brought in
and cast its judgement,

and I will follow it.

- Are you still here?
- No, I'm in the garden already.

There is another secret
I wish to reveal to you.

An incantation you can speak
that can allow you

to peer into the minds
of your courtiers.

To expose them,
if they are devious.

Please, be cautious.

The blockhead does resemble me.
The magician did not lie.

As if it were a monument to Tartaglia.

So, my counterpart.
If I lie, will you really smile?

I love Angela.

You remain serious?

But most of all, I love
His Eminent Majesty, Deramo!

Oh!

Our noble king Deramo decrees...

That all Serendippo
women of noble descent...

And no older than 20 years of age...

Present themselves
at the royal palace...

And the worthiest of the worthy...

And the worthiest of the worthy...

And the worthiest of the worthy...

And the worthiest of the worthy...

Shall become Queen of Serendippo!

Fair maidens in our city,
they are not in short supply,

a Princess on the Pea is what
you'll be if you just try!

A Princess on the Pea is what,
a Princess on the Pea is what,

a Princess on the Pea is what
you'll be if you just try!

- I am the fairest of them all!
- And I can really sing!

I will provide a healthy dozen
children for the king!

- Yes, I'll provide a healthy dozen...
- I'll provide a healthy dozen...

I'll provide a healthy dozen
children for the king!

All patriots significant,
a pageant you must stage!

And bring your birth certificate
to prove your proper age!

And bring your birth certificate,
and bring your birth certificate,

and bring your birth certificate
to prove your proper age!

Your Potential Highnesses!
Please line up in an orderly fashion,

and if you're denied,
do not enter the line again.

So, the first candidate.

O my king, in my soul

a thousand nightingales sing...

When I see you,

when I see you,

when I see you...

O my king,

in my soul...

the lilacs...

bloom...

O my king...

My king...

O my king...

O my king...

O my king...

O my king...

O my king...

O my king...

Representing the mask from Bologna,
Minister Patalone!

The king's second minister.

Pantalone's daughter, Angela.
The heroine of our story.

Heroines are often
romantic ("blue") and bold.

- And she is as blue as...
- The Italian sky.

Well, you can kiss that goodbye!

Up till now,
I was sighing and moaning,

all I did was sit around and cry.

Now I'm sick of it,
yes, I'm sick of it,

yes, I'm sick of it,
yes, I'm sick of it,

Now I need something more...
to get by.

When I looked, they weren't looks,
they were gazes,

but now,
that's no longer the case.

Now I'm sick of it,
yes, I'm sick of it,

yes, I'm sick of it,
yes, I'm sick of it,

and I'll break
every dish in the place!

Now I'm sick of it,
yes, I'm sick of it,

yes, I'm sick of it,
yes, I'm sick of it,

and I'll break
every dish in the place!

But why? Why won't you try
to gain the affection of the king?

Is it his fault it
didn't occur to him

to look among the
ladies of the court first,

- and only then try the... townfolk?
- Democrat!

Fabulous king, wonderful king, the
best king out of all fairy tale kings!

Glory to Deramo!

- Are you serious, you're not going?
- I'm serious.

But the king wishes that the
second minister's daughter

present herself first,

before
the other ladies of the court.

Which is an excellent pun,
and an excellent position in the court.

I don't want any position in the court.

Dunce. Of course, if you become
Her Highness, Queen of Serendippo,

I take that back.

But I'll never become Her Highness,
Queen of Serendippo.

Never, ever, ever, ever. Leave me alone.

I won't leave you alone!
I've got an Italian temper, myself!

I can break dishes too!
When the mood strikes me.

But why, why won't you see him?

Because I love Deramo.

You love Deramo?
That's wonderful!

Then you'll go see him tonight.

- You won't go?
- Try to understand...

Understanding's for the first minister!
I'm the second minister!

If Tartaglia understands,
then I can understand,

but so sooner!
Have these been washed?

Tartaglia understands alright.

This morning he asked me to pretend
I was sick and not see the king.

- What? What does he want?
- His daughter Clarice to be queen.

But your brother Leandro
is betrothed to Clarice!

Yes, but this is Tartaglia.

Yes. That scoundrel.

Glory to Tartaglia!
Glory to the first minister.

Glory to anyone higher in rank
than the second minister,

and who can make
head or tail of this.

- What else does he want?
- He wants me to be his wife.

- He's in love with me.
- Who?

- Tartaglia.
- What?

- In love.
- With who?

- With me.
- Who is?

- Tartaglia.
- What?

- In love.
- With who?

- With me.
- Who is?

- Tartaglia.
- Tartaglia! Why, I...

Why, I...

I'll just eat this apple,
that's what I'll do.

It seems that you have lived

beside us but not with us.

You're just an empty void,

and nothing touches you.

But here on earth there's love,

above the earth, a heaven...

I'll just eat this apple,
that's what I'll do.

Then I must do this thing.

So be it, I'll go lightly.

Deramo I'll approach,

and speak my feelings true:

"Oh, my beloved king,

"you're ever so unsightly..."

I'll just eat this apple,
that's what I'll do.

Oh, I'm sick of it,
yes, I'm sick of it,

yes, I'm sick of it,
yes, I'm sick of it...

I'll just eat this apple,
that's what I'll do.

Clarice...

Daughter of Tartaglia,
the First Minister.

- Leandro...
- Son of Pantalone, the Second Minister.

- Clarice.
- Leandro.

- Clarice!
- Leandro!

- Clarice...
- Leandro...

- Clarice...
- That's enough.

Good day.

- Father, we were just...
- Not "we", you.

You'll go see Deramo tonight.

- And we...
- Who?

Son of Pantalone,
the Second Minister...

We'll go take a nap, and forget
that there's such a person as Clarice,

daughter of the
First Minister, Tartaglia.

- Never.
- Never.

If he doesn't want to take a nap,
that's fine. But he's leaving.

- And you...
- And I'll go talk to Deramo,

and tell him I love Leandro.

- You'll do no such thing.
- Why not?

Because I'll rip off your nose
and cut off your ears...

And without ears and a nose,

even a milksop like Leandro
wouldn't want you.

- That's not true!
- So you will want her?

I'm not a milksop.

I'll go talk to Deramo.

- And tell him you love Leandro?
- No, I'll tell Deramo I love Deramo.

If you didn't take after your mother,
I might have even believed you.

But you're up to something.

I've already used my smile to reject

the stunning beauties of Serendippo,

now comes the decisive moment...

Once Clarice enters,
I'll remain stonefaced,

no matter what nonsense
my beloved daughter Clarice speaks,

and I, Tartaglia,
will be the king's son in law.

And if... Angela... enters first...

Well, no matter what she says,

I'll grin from ear to ear,

and I'm certain
our good king will reject her...

the way he did the rest.

Deramo's caught in his own trap.

He wanted a blockhead
in Tartaglia's likeness...

and I would be a blockhead indeed

if I didn't take advantage of that.

Tell me, Clarice, daughter of Tartaglia,
what do you feel towards me?

Love.

But you profess your love too evenly.

No, I love you.

My blockhead doesn't even smirk.

Is my palace truly destined to be filled
with this indifferent love?

Perhaps
the blockhead is malfunctioning?

Are you so cold by nature?

You yawn while professing
your love for me?

Just nerves, my king.
I yawn out of trepidation, I assure you.

And where did you lose all loving words?

I love you so much...
I cannot find the words.

It seems I need to lie
more ostentatiously.

Oh, my king, I found the loving words,
I simply forgot them out of fear.

Oh goodness, Angela
said all these things to me,

professing her love for Deramo.

This is so unseemly.

I love you like the birds
love the heavens,

like the wind loves the sails,

like the waves love the land!

Oh, my king, I love you so much,

why, it would be
impossible to love you more!

Clarice, please give Tartaglia
my regards and my apologies

for his daughter not becoming queen.

One last time: Do you love me?

No, my king.

And the statue remains stonefaced.

You didn't lie to me.

Please, only tell me the truth
from now on. Only the truth.

Go on, then.

Send in Angela,
the daughter of my minister, Pantalone.

Well then... shall we talk?

What do we have to talk about,
King Deramo?

The humiliating way you've treated
the maidens of Serendippo?

Do you know, none of my subjects
have ever rebuked me.

I know. That's why
I got up the nerve to come,

to reveal your unseemliness to you.

"King, king..."
You call yourself a king?

You've become the loyal subject
of a blockhead.

Blindly trusting his smile, you've lost
your will, your shame and your honor.

I could see for myself
the maidens were dishonest.

What can you see
for yourself right now?

No one has ever dared
speak to me this way.

The only thing you saw in me
was insolence.

- You're too unforgiving with the king.
- Yes, because I...

- Because you...?
- Because I...

- Because you...?
- Because I... love him.

You love me? But can I believe you?

Of course you can't.
The statue's laughing.

Why look at me?

Turn around
and look at the blockhead.

I think I've fallen in love
despite myself.

But the statue laughs.
I'm lying to you.

I just can't pull myself away
from your eyes, which are so bright

that dark doubts fade away before them.

But your blockhead,
look, he's laughing.

He's laughing.
What a blockhead, indeed.

Divine one, you have
made me so light-hearted.

What kingly luck,
to be in this position.

And so, I will allay
all your suspicions,

and smash the gift
received from Durandarte.

- Love is a thing...
- Love is a thing...

Of which youngsters
are not yet aware.

It's only in movies for grownups
they show love affairs.

Love even exists in real life,
so the rumor goes.

- But that...
- But that...

But that, the youngsters
of course do not know.

- Of course, to be king...
- Of course, to be king...

Is a mighty respectable thing.

But a king with no queen,
don't you know, is at best half a king.

Now he's fallen in love,
so the rumor goes.

- But that...
- But that...

But that, the youngsters
of course do not know.

- The lot of the king...
- The lot of the king...

Was a sad lot, a bachelor's lot.

But lately his mood's much improved,
now that he's tied the knot.

Matrimonial bliss,
so the rumor goes.

- But that...
- But that...

But that, the youngsters
of course do not know.

The feast is done
and I am quite morose.

Yes, their experiment,
to me it is obscene.

I'll have revenge,

revenge more grandiose...

than any captured
on the silver screen.

The grand royal hunt
in honor of the king's wedding.

- Sire!
- Hang on, I'm busy.

- Time to change.
- Change what?

- Not what, into what.
- What, into what?

- Not "what into what", you into what.
- Me? Into what?

You wanted to transform into a parrot.

- Remember?
- Stop this nonsense! I'm busy.

Dastardly Tartaglia
and credulous Deramo

- are already at the Roncislappe forest.
- That's the one I was talking about.

Don't you remember the note you wrote me
when you hired me for this fairy tale?

You wrote:

"My dear, honorable
and beloved Cigolotti."

Cigolotti, that's me. Pleased to make
your acquaintance, as they say.

- Well, what do you have there?
- "On the fifth..."

"of January, you will take me,
in the form of a parrot,

"to the nearby forest of Roncislappe.
There you will leave me,

"and I will help punish the betrayal

"brought about by the more terrible
of the two secrets

"which... I revealed
to the king of Serendippo."

And at around 18:00 hours, I will
receive payment in the sum of 3,000.

An old plan.

Leave, and come back in
when you hear the name "Tartaglia".

You're going to transform?

- Step out of the frame.
- Alright, alright.

Do you need help, Sire?

- I've had it with you.
- Alright.

- Sire, I want to watch.
- Don't you dare even peek!

- Or I'll turn you into a...
- No, don't.

So, kind sir.

Good thing I bought you
from the organ grinder today after all.

Tartaglia.

Tartaglia.

Tartaglia.

Tartaglia.

His Wizardship, where are you?

Come with me.

- Dunce.
- I'm sorry.

Tartaglia.

Nothing fancy.

Kill him. Dump him in the river.
Get Angela and the kingdom.

Nothing fancy. Nothing fancy.

Nothing fancy.

Kill him. Dump him in the river.
Get Angela and the kingdom.

Nothing fancy. Nothing fancy.

Nothing fancy.

Kill him. Dump him in the river.

Get Angela and the kingdom.
Nothing fancy.

I'm sick of being a villain!

Sick of it.

I don't want to sell people out,
eavesdrop, kill people.

In this story,
whose side is Tartaglia on?

He's a scoundrel,
a villain, a vagabond.

How could Italy produce
such a dreadful con?

Not a fool, but a wretch, and so on.

And so on, and so on, and so on.

Oh, the name of Tartaglia
is frowned upon,

and in Italy downright looked down upon.

Yes, "Tartaglia"
is practically "demon-spawn".

Weep, Tartaglia, weep,

and so on, and so on.

But Tartaglia is just a mask I put on.

I am good, it's the mask
who's a vagabond.

An anomaly, quite a phenomenon...

Of human emotion...

And so on, and so on, and so on,

and so on, and so on,

and so on, and so on...

And so on.

To hell with the fairy tale.

- I've decided to become good.
- No.

That is not your role.

I've decided to escape my role.

I'll reveal everything to Deramo,
and we'll escape together.

There are plenty
of other fairy tales.

Worst comes to worst,
we'll try real life.

After all,
how can two good people

not find a place for themselves
under the sun?

How can a person
just escape their role?

A villain,
or a courtier, king or troll?

It's true, in fairy tales
we're given such a task.

But even life sometimes
can make us wear a mask.

So can you now escape
this mask you're wearing,

when it's the villain's role
you practiced in the wings?

For masked Tartaglia's
heartless and uncaring.

Therefore beware, Deramo,

therefore beware,
Deramo, noble king.

Tartaglia.

I remember I once shot a stag
here in the forest of Roncislappe.

In this very clearing, I believe.

Yes, Your Highness, the very same.

- Why are you so curt, Tartaglia?
- I'm simply proper.

As a servant
should be with his master.

- But you're my first minister.
- But I serve Your Highness.

I see.

- You're upset that I rejected Clarice?
- Yes.

I longed to be your son-in-law.

You're still honest with me.

I want you to know my disposition
towards you hasn't changed,

and so I will reveal to you the second
secret Durandarte granted me.

A second secret?

You concealed it from me.

He said to trust no one with it,
even ministers.

- But I can tell you.
- No need.

Hear this secret, my kind friend.

The wizard
has given me an incantation.

If you recite it over
a dead man or creature,

your life essence will immediately
inhabit the lifeless body, and that body

will be resurrected.

Alas, while you inhabit it,
you become lifeless yourself.

But if you recite the incantation again,
then or after some time,

you will reanimate your own body.

The words, they must be
hard to remember.

On the contrary,
they're poetical and simple.

Chironga poofa grecka raka tersa,
curango mango, and vice versa.

One more time, and not so fast, please.

Chironga poofa grecka raka tersa,
curango mango, and vice versa.

Now for a moment
do not say a word,

so you can properly
remember what you heard.

- Now for a moment do not say a word...
- The last two lines were a postscript.

The text consists of the first two. So?

Are you sure this mage
didn't deceive you?

I'm willing to test the incantation
right now. We're alone here,

I shall inhabit a stag,

and entrust you
with the body of the king.

I hope you wouldn't cast some kind of
curse on the lifeless body of Deramo.

Ha ha ha! And if I did?

I would be king, and have this stag,
which only I know about, hunted down.

No, Angela would see
through this deception.

- But I would become Deramo.
- Outwardly.

She would sense your substance.

I'm willing to forgo this test.

You, my king,

could believe your loyal Tartaglia
would deceive you?

How could you?

A stag!

How could you? You've doubted
my friendship once again!

Forgive me,
I was joking. A stag.

Chigonda.

Poofa.

Grecka raka.

Tersa.

Curango mango.

What's this?
The king is on the ground.

Meanwhile the stag,
alive, is standing there.

It seems I'll have to fire
a second round.

The king has disappeared,
I know not where.

Chironga. Poofa. Grecka.

Raka. Tersa.

Curango mango.

And vice versa.

Tartaglia is dead.

And I am King Deramo.

Tartaglia is dead.

And I am King Deramo.

And I am King Deramo.

Tartaglia is dead.

Tartaglia is dead.

And I am King Deramo.

Yes, but the stag is still alive.

The main thing now
is to kill the stag.

And I am King Deramo.

Tartaglia is dead.

And I am King Deramo.

Give your command,
our honorable king.

There is a stag in this area,
a stag which eluded me.

I've never felt such a frenzy.

My quarry is a true king among stags.
Huntsmen, onward!

3,000 for the man who brings me the pelt
of the white-headed stag.

Yes, kettles filled with water
are in plentiful supply.

But goblets, oh, but goblets are
not easy to come by.

Alas, I cannot conjure drink
out of thin air just yet,

but I can use my memory,
yes, I can use my memory,

oh, I can use my memory
to keep my whistle wet.

Yes, I can use my memory,
my me-me-me-me-memory,

indeed I use my memory
to keep my whistle wet.

I simply picture in my mind
a modest jug of wine,

and then beside the jug I picture
liquors clear and fine.

I see before me drink enough
to fill a pool and swim.

Oh, my imagination,
it's no exaggeration,

yes, my imagination's always
filled right to the brim.

Oh, my imagination,
it's no exaggeration,

yes, my imagination's always
filled right to the brim.

Excuse me, where's
the parrot drop-off area?

Hey, friend,
are you drunk or something?

Tartaglia.

Tartaglia.

I can see that, Sire,
I'm not blind.

Tartaglia.

Quiet, Sire.
There might be people around.

They'll think I killed
the first minister. Good lord.

What am I doing here? I have
to get out of here, I have to run!

- Dunce.
- Right.

I really am a dunce.
If you're running, you're suspicious.

I need to go drag him off
into the bushes. And that will be that.

- So...
- Tartaglia.

What? You don't want me to take him?

Dunce.

Quiet, Sire!
You've gone all birdbrained!

Alright. Like so.
Make it comfortable.

Alright. Alright.

I've waited too long.

Someone's coming over.
Someone's coming.

Run. Run!

Oh, for the love of...

It's just a white-headed stag.

- Chironga... poofa...
- What did you say, Your Wizardliness?

Grecka raka tersa...

So it was...

- Curango mango...
- You who said it...

This is some forest.

The stags talk.

Tartaglia.

Your Wizardliness,
what have you done?

One moment.

I'm coming.

Here I am, Sire.

My friend.

I can't explain everything
that took place here.

But if you keep mum,

you'll get 3,000.

I'm already keeping mum.

- So if you could pay me now...
- No. No.

The king promised a bounty
of 3,000 for this stag.

For this one?

- Why would he...
- Dunce.

What time is it, Sire?

About 18:00.

So this is it.

Thank you, Sire.

Allow me. Thank you.

Farewell.

Your Wizardliness, you were right!

18:00 is coming up,
and so is my payment!

An evil wizard made his way to
the train station in his wizard's gown.

He did not stop or delay to
notice all the muck around.

Kicked six infants in the kneecaps,
no, this wizard wasn't nice,

And he laid out six steel mousetraps
for to capture him six mice.

He ripped up a pile of schoolbooks,
tossed the pages in the air.

And of course the evil wizard
made his train with time to spare.

And of course the evil wizard
made his train with time to spare.

A kindly wizard, as it happened, walked
to the station using the same route.

And he swept, his robes a-flappin',
all the muck and grime about.

He could not stand idly by and
let six mice go to their death,

He consoled six weeping infants,
juggled rocks till he was out of breath.

Straightened crumpled schoolbook covers,
dried the pages wet with rain.

All the schoolbooks were recovered,
but he did not make his train.

All the schoolbooks were recovered,
but he did not make his train.

Who? What?

Your Highness, it's 18:00.

I'm sorry to bother you,
but I need money in a hurry.

What, 18:00? What money?

Your Highness, you promised 3,000
to the person who brought you

the white-headed stag. Here it is.

It's 18:00.

You killed the stag with
the white spot on its head?

Of course, why?

See for yourself.

It was you who killed
the white-headed stag?

That's right.

- How did you do it?
- With a musket.

- Where's the bullet hole?
- There.

- Where?
- There.

- Show me.
- One moment.

One moment, Your Highness.
I'll find it... There.

Where is it?

On the right. One moment,
Your Highness.

Perhaps from this side...

you can see it more clearly.
Seems like...

I forgot!

Sorry, Your Highness, I forgot!

I shot it with a...
what do you call it... A bow.

- Oh?
- Yes.

- Then there should be an arrow hole.
- Certainly.

Yet the stag is completely intact.

I want to hear what really happened!

- Your Highness... One moment...
- Go on!

The stag leant over the lifeless body
of my first minister, correct?

Your Highness...

- The minister revived.
- I...

- The stag fell.
- Oh, Your Highness...

You meanwhile were trembling
in the bushes, but then you realized

it might be nice to receive the bounty
I promised to award to honest hunters.

- I... Your...
- No?

Your Highness,
how do you know all that?

Seize him!

- Your Highness, what about the 3,000?
- Give him 3,000 lashes!

Hey, Second Minister, over here!

- Come here, quick!
- Coming, coming.

Quickly, quickly.

First Minister, Sire.

Where are you, Master Tartaglia?

We're both ministers,
why do you hide from me?

He's always like this:
He calls you, then jumps in the bushes.

Phooey. Glory to Tartaglia.

Glory to the first minister.

Glory to anyone higher in rank
than the second minister.

To the d... d... dungeon.

I'll just eat this apple,
that's what I'll do.

Didn't you hear me?
I spoke plain Italian.

To the dungeon.

Glory to Deramo, glory to Deramo,

glory to Deramo.

Hurrah.

Seize him.

Glory to Deramo, glory to Deramo,

glory to Deramo.

Hurrah.

Our noble king Deramo decrees...

That it be announced
at every square:

"My minister, who escaped me,
First Minister Ta...

- "Ta..."
- "Rtalia..."

"Is guilty
of crimes against the s...

- "The s..."
- "The s..."

- "The s..."
- "The s..."

"The state!"

"A bounty shall be granted to anyone
who would deliver him to the palace,

"alive or de... de... de...

"Dead."

Dreadful.

With a stuttering king,
even his subjects begin to stutter.

- What shall we do?
- My father is an outlaw,

yours is in the dungeon,
and there is no one to bless us.

And without blessings,
we cannot be wed.

Oh, old-fashioned blessings...

- That's a pickle.
- Quite a pickle. What shall we do?

I know, we have to...

think of something.

Wise words, Leandro. Two hearts
will come up with a solution in no time.

No, in order to think of something,
you need a brain.

Wise words. In that case, listen.

You must find my father immediately.

But he's in hiding, your father.

- Where would I find him?
- At the palace gate.

No nearer than
the palace gate and no farther.

But alive or dead?

Alive. My father's not foolish enough
to let himself get killed.

He'd rather give himself up hoping
he'll manage to find a solution.

The most important thing
is to see when he's brought in.

And don't forget to watch out
for yourself as well.

I'm going, I'm going,
I'm going, I'm going.

A hop and a skip and I'm there,

even though I'm still here.

I'm going.

We're palace guards,
we're palace guards.

We haven't slept a wink.

We're palace guards,
we're palace guards.

We daren't even blink.

Our enemies come creeping by,
but walk so stealthily.

Our enemies are very sly,
our enemies are very sly,

our enemies are very sly,
and them we cannot see.

I am Tartaglia.
There's a bounty on my head.

You might get it
if you take me to the king.

What's that you say?
Actually, you do look like Tartaglia.

But who's heard of such a thing,
Tartaglia surrendering himself?

But I really am Tartaglia.

Now, if one of the citizens
had brought him in,

and Tartaglia would have been struggling
and squealing that he wasn't Tartaglia,

that would have been Tartaglia.

You, take a hike!

No, no, no.

There's nothing I can do. Not a thing.

You were the one who broke my rule

and revealed the
second secret to Tartaglia.

Now you must untangle this yourself.

Oh, come now.

You've got brains,
and Angela loves you.

Does she?

Who's to say. After all, it was you,

you, once again,
who smashed my blockhead.

Believe it or don't,
now it's your call.

So there's nothing you can do?

Nothing. I'm not even having any luck
with my own ballad here.

I can't come up with an ending.

- Is it ending soon?
- Yes, it won't be long now.

I'm taking up your time.

- I'm sorry.
- It's fine. I'd love to help,

but there's the ballad,
and anyway...

So you can't transport
me to the palace?

Sire, you're a wizard.
What's it to you?

Let's help him,
what do you say?

My friends, I am but a poet.
I stir people's imagination.

It runs wild, and mistakes things that
are imaginary for things that are real.

But you turned into a parrot,
you were in that cage...

and, begging your pardon,
even left some droppings.

I bought that parrot
from an organ grinder.

- You did make a magic statue.
- Right.

Who's to say.

Was it truly useful
when you fell in love?

In any case...

What proof do you have
that it ever existed?

Begging your pardon...

You gave me a magic incantation,
and I turned into Tartaglia.

I have no idea how you managed it.

It was just a joke.

Some joke.

Oh...

You simply took my joke too seriously.

Yes, it happens.
But it was a joke, I assure you.

What am I to do?

Sire, just turn him into a parrot.
I even cleaned the cage.

I'll take him to the palace
and sell him.

- Why delay?
- Listen, you.

You already got 3,000 thanks to me.

Yes.

The full 3,000.

- And not a penny less.
- Why did you need so much?

I did want to give some back.

- But they wouldn't take it.
- I've got it.

Excuse me, I think I have an idea.

I know how to reward you.

I've caught Tartaglia! I've caught
the first minister! Come see!

I've caught Tartaglia! I've caught
the first minister! Come one, come all!

- I've caught Tartaglia!
- Halt, villain!

Villain? But I've caught Tartaglia!

The first minister.
What's wrong with that?

This here's my Tartaglia!
It was by order of the king!

- I should get paid!
- Here. Now off with you!

- Cigolotti.
- Forgive me, Sire.

That's all I can do for you.

Seeing as my wish has been granted,
there's 3,000 here, I counted,

I now make my exit
from this fairy tale. Farewell.

- Cigolotti!
- You can't handle the king, Father.

He's changed. He's cruel and fearsome.
He'll kill you on sight.

- You're mistaken, I'm not your father.
- I'll take you to your daughter. Come!

Help! Help me!

This is a mistake!
I'm not Tartaglia!

I only look like him.
I'm not Tartaglia!

I am not Tartaglia.
This is a mistake.

I only look like him!

Now we have you.

You're shouting you're not Tartaglia,
that means you're definitely Tartaglia.

Take him to the king, friend,
and you'll get your bounty.

Now you know everything.

What do you say?

Terrible,
incomprehensible, impossible.

Tartaglia's claimed your role.

But I'm willing to help you, my king.
I have a humble gift, my bravery.

I must do everything myself.

My knight set out,

15 years ago, upon a journey vast,

but as a parting gift, a spell

upon his sight I cast.

'Cross mountains,
distances untold,

where'er his steed may race,

on every beauty he beholds

he only sees my face.

And from the clock tower,

The bells chime on:

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong...

Time passed out there,
and did not stop

in here, regrettably.

I wait,
and there is but one thing

that sometimes worries me:

When all his wandering's done,
and home

his mighty horse he'll race,

and finally lay eyes on me,

will he recognize my face?

And from the clock tower,

the bells chime on:

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong...

Ding-dong...

Deramo, my knight.

I miss you when you leave
even for a day.

Apart from you,
a day feels like years.

What's taken you so long, my king?

I was a stag.

Oh, you were a stag.

Was there perhaps
some pretty doe around?

Why won't you speak, my stag king?

My form is unworthy of both
your gaze and your beauty.

But why? Stags are beautiful!

I've been transformed twice today.

I was a stag. Now Tartaglia's

ghastly countenance is upon my face.

It seems impossible,
such things don't happen.

But occasionally,
in fairy tales, they do.

Durandarte gave me
an incantation that allowed me

to transform into a shot stag,
and leave myself in Tartaglia's hands.

But I revealed the words to him.

He turned into Deramo,
and I turned into Tartaglia.

Tartaglia?

Yes.

Why won't you speak?

- Tartaglia...
- Yes!

I think this might be a nightmare.

Why won't you speak?

What hope do I have now,

if my own wife
doesn't recognize me?

I hear the voice of my Deramo.

You believe me?

- I do.
- You do?

- I do.
- You do.

To the dungeon!

To the gallows!
Without a trial! Silence!

I... I am Deramo!

You can see, I am Deramo.

I knew Angela wouldn't let me down.

That's sufficient. And so...

This happened way back when

evil had masks to wear.

Wherever
there was goodness to be found,

evil popped up, of course.

How can we make it so

that not only in this fairy tale,

but everywhere, and always,

evil gets what it deserves?

Fairy tales have their place.

They'll persist,
of this I'm certain.

But in real life you can't rely

on a wizard
to save you, you see.

No, people must make magic

for one another themselves.

People must be human,

and behave accordingly.

THE END