Beaumarchais the Scoundrel (1996) - full transcript
The true life story of Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, the son of a clockmaker, who writes "The Barber of Seville", works as a secret agent for the French king, runs guns to the American revolutionaries, and along the way finds himself on a collision course with the Chevalier d'Eon, France's notorious cross-dressing superspy.
1773.
The 18th century
was polishing its last act.
Louis XV
was about to bow out.
Meanwhile, backstage,
Louis XVI was getting ready.
A time of great ideas
and defiant subjects.
Pierre-Augustin Caron
de Beaumarchais,
a clockmaker like his father,
thought, like Voltaire,
that the clocks
were set awfully slow.
So he set about
hurrying them up.
- The Th??tre Fran?aise, please?
- Right there.
Thank you.
Mr de Beaumarchais?
He doesn't see visitors.
You may write to him.
BEAUMARCHAIS
the scoundrel
How inflated! How heavy!
Why so slow?
- The text demands it.
- What text?
This isn't Marivaux or Voltaire.
Lightness is the key.
Who's there?
Will you please let us work?
Work differently.
I nearly fell asleep.
Come on. Start again.
From just after the song
"He's certainly no priest ..."
He's certainly no priest.
His haughty, noble air ...
Gentlemen, just say
your lines, nothing more.
- Aren't you Count Almaviva?
- Figaro, the rascal!
- That's me, my lord.
- Not a word ...
That's you indeed.
With your usual kindness!
I wouldn't have known you.
So well fed!
What do you expect, my lord?
Times are hard.
I'm sorry, sir.
I couldn't help it.
Don't stop. Especially
in front of the author ...
Scoundrel!
- I've a letter, sir.
- Hand it over.
From Mr de Voltaire.
- You know Voltaire?
- My father is his steward.
Let's have a look, then.
Dear Brilliant Scatterbrain,
I'm afraid that in the end
you alone may be right.
Through your trial,
you're attacking Parliament.
You have my best wishes.
Welcome this young Mr Gudin
who worships you.
He can make himself
very useful.
Spare me a thought or two,
as I think of you.
Voltaire.
Voltaire!
I'm at his disposal.
What can I do for you?
Nothing, sir,
other than read my texts.
So you're a writer too!
Everyone is these days.
Even lowly Baculard d'Arnaud
who slanders me in this rag
you dared bring.
Come ...
Gentlemen, excuse me.
Come along!
The bright evening star
has left the skies.
I am awake, alas,
with tormented eyes.
The bright evening star ...
- Miss M?nard?
- Hold on, I'm not dressed.
- Beaumarchais sent me.
- What for?
- To read you a poem.
- Couldn't he come himself?
Well ... I wrote it.
You're a poet?
Beaumarchais
asked for your opinion.
He said you
like young writers.
Oh dear ... What a rogue!
Go ahead, then.
I have a rehearsal soon.
La Napliade.
That's the title of the poem.
The bright evening star
has left the skies.
I am awake, alas,
with tormented eyes.
Is that it?
Come on in.
Now ...
Let's hear it.
The bright evening star ...
Where's that ridiculous writer?
- Who?
Beaumarchais ... Your lover!
- He knows nothing.
- And I know all.
- You and I broke up!
- How did he know?
He must have seen
I was sad.
Be doubly sad.
I'm going to kill him.
No, I beg you, Joseph.
Joseph!
Beaumarchais is in danger.
Hurry!
- Where?
- His home, rue de Cond?.
Get there before the Duke.
Get going, silly fool.
Run them over!
Excuse me.
- In danger? Really?
- A man wants to kill him.
- Who wants to kill me?
- A gigantic duke. A mountain.
A mountain? How aptly put.
- How is Miss M?nard?
- She only heard a few lines.
- What of the rest?
- The Duke broke in.
- He saved your hide.
- Pardon me?
Your poems are atrocious.
They show erudition ...
but nothing about life,
nothing about our times
and nothing about you.
- Why send me to Miss M?nard?
- I thought she'd be less blunt.
You write fairly well,
but you think wrongly.
- Voltaire read your work?
- He did me the honour.
- And what did he think?
- The same as you did.
That's cruel.
What did Voltaire
employ you for?
I prepared texts
and wrote letters for him.
Thank you, C?saire.
Come along.
Come along. You're hired.
You haven't had lunch, sir.
I'll have two dinners.
Write this down, will you?
"Counsellor Goezman ..."
A new lampoon?
No, just a request
for an audience.
"Counsellor Goezman,
"My appeal hearing is imminent.
"My appeal hearing is imminent.
"Parliament has chosen you
as my prosecutor."
Why let this drag on?
Three years ...
Are you familiar with the case?
You're using the trial
as an excuse.
Please explain.
You don't care about what
Count de La Blache owes you.
I think ...
Parliament is a platform
for your ideas.
You favour your ideas
over theatre.
That's not incorrect.
This is dangerous, sir.
It may turn nasty.
- Your father's watch!
- How do you know?
He gave it to you when
you became Royal Clockmaker.
You were 22.
Is there anything about me
you don't know?
What you haven't done yet,
which may need a witness.
Might that be you?
Paris is dangerous, Mr Gudin.
Too much poverty,
too many taxes.
- And people suffer it.
- Who'd risk the Bastille?
You ... given what you write.
I'd like to prove Parliament
corrupt.
- Could you prove it?
- I think so. Here we are.
- What's this?
- My professional garb.
I am a defendant,
but I am also a judge.
- And Master of the Royal Hunt.
- You're a magistrate?
Worse still, I wanted to be one.
So I paid for the charge.
Thank you. Hello.
- Why seek this honour?
- I seek all honours.
Thank you so much.
Parliament remembered me.
My appeal is to be next week.
Come on!
Gentlemen, all rise.
Ladies and gentlemen,
please sit down.
Now ... Good day, sir.
- Where is the plaintiff?
- Here, Your Honour.
Come closer, sir.
Don't be afraid.
Your wall was destroyed?
I built it
at the bottom of my pasture.
To deter prowlers.
And who knocked it down?
Speak up, my good man.
Don't be afraid.
The Prince de Conti.
The Prince de Conti?
Why did he demolish your wall?
To hunt, sir. For his hounds
and horses to get through.
Master of the Royal Hunt!
The Duke de Chaulnes!
Such an honour!
I'm here to avenge my honour,
Mr Caron.
- Prepare to die.
- This is hardly the place.
No matter. You will die.
I wouldn't count on it.
A moment, please. Have a seat.
I wouldn't make a wronged man
wait unduly.
Thank you.
Given that no man,
be he of royal descent,
is above the law that governs
mere mortals,
Louis-Fran?ois Bourbon,
Prince de Conti,
is sentenced to rebuild
Master Mouillot's wall,
or be constrained to do so
by the authorities.
You have a good heart, sir.
A Bourbon to rebuild a wall,
outrageous!
I'm all yours, Duke!
Guard,
kindly lend me your sword.
Why, thank you!
If you'll excuse me, Duke.
- Thank you, madam.
- It's Miss.
En garde, sir.
- Oh no!
- So sorry.
Duke ...
please allow me.
Mr Gudin, would you kindly
do me a favour?
- Certainly, sir.
- Thank you.
Be my witness.
A duel with such a man
will get me into trouble.
I've already
killed a man in a duel.
You won't kill another!
- Note I'm not the aggressor.
- Quite, sir.
- Mr Gudin!
- Sir?
Call the guards quickly.
Very quickly!
Guards!
Mr de Beaumarchais!
I arrest you
in the name of the king.
Counsellor ...
How long can we
detain Beaumarchais?
Until the trial.
Stop him
preparing his defence.
Fear not, Count.
I'll see to it.
That's what you're paid for,
Mr Goezman.
If I can't prepare my case,
I'm a dead man.
- Talk to Sartines, please.
- Talk?
- You've helped me before.
- Not with a minister.
He's Police Superintendent.
Not bad-looking.
Do it yourself
if you fancy him.
I don't like boys, truly.
And I can't leave here.
Marion ...
Marion ...
If I'm found guilty,
I'll never write again.
Not even for you.
You'll never play anything
but vaudeville.
Marion ...
- You're asking me ...
- To do what you do best.
- You're disgusting!
- I only meant acting.
I'm not asking you
to love him,
just to make him think
you like him.
And make love.
Maybe we should wait a bit.
- I'll come back.
- It won't be much longer.
There. It's over.
Mr Gudin ...
what about your poem?
How's your head, my friend?
In working order.
Then I have a task for you.
- The Barber of Seville?
- I've improved on it.
I work best in prison.
Tell me what you think.
My opinion?
Tell the actors at the Com?die
about the changes.
Be my representative. Hurry,
the rehearsal starts soon.
- Le Bihan!
- Coming, sir.
- The young man is leaving.
- Yes, sir.
Tell Beaumarchais to stop
attracting so much attention.
And to drop his attacks
on Parliament.
One of these days the king
won't be able to protect him.
Here you are.
He's a free man.
Is there anything else
I can do for you?
We'd have to wait
a little while.
I'm very sorry,
but I have a matin?e.
I hope there are other
prisoners you want freed.
Oh goodness, sir!
Oh goodness, sir!
Your hands over your heart,
Rosine!
She's flustered.
The hands go over the heart.
- She's going to faint, Alonzo.
- It was such a blow!
A seat. Get a seat.
- Rosine!
- This is unwise.
You're too far apart.
They fear Bartholo but
their attraction is too strong.
Like this. "This is unwise."
- Indeed, how unwise!
- Pierre!
Come on. Let's continue.
Simply say your lines,
no more.
You asked to write
Beaumarchais's life,
not to live it for me!
- I was doing my best, sir.
- It was a good imitation.
Do you still want to help me?
Well, that's my dearest wish.
It seems that Parliament
has already found me guilty.
I've only one weapon left.
My enemies' best weapon.
Corruption.
Beaumarchais
will lose this time.
Not so!
He has the king's support.
Like the rope
supports a hanged man.
- He'll be ruined if he loses.
- He's used to it.
Forget money.
They want his head.
The Parliament
or the king?
Parliament, king,
they're in bed together.
Sorry.
Excuse me. Sorry, sir.
Gentlemen, here is the object
of this hearing.
A mere paper signed
by the banker Duverney
just before his death,
shamefully despoiling
his legitimate heir,
Count de La Blache
here present,
in favour of Squire Caron
whom we're judging today.
However,
neither Mr de la Blache
nor the experts
appointed by the court
acknowledge the authenticity
of the signature on the paper.
Who should we believe?
A man respected by all
and who, so far,
has never
dishonoured his rank,
or a public entertainer
whose trade is make-believe,
whose very name is a lie
and whose fortune originated
in the providential death
of his two former wives?
This man, gentlemen ...
and I solemnly declare this ...
this man is a forger.
A forger and an imposter
society must be rid of!
Do you have anything to add?
Indeed I do, Your Honour.
- What do you have to say?
- Plenty.
Plenty, beyond that little paper
you and Count de La Blache
have decided was a fake.
How do I prove my good faith
with my word alone?
We know what that's worth
for the Parliament I loathe
and you its chief speaker!
- Are you referring to me?
- You and this institution.
You all scorn the truth
to protect your privileges.
Yes, Counsellor.
We're sick of those scandals
erupting daily
which are buried by nightfall.
We're sick
of insipid ministers
who would govern us,
unable to govern themselves.
We're sick
of lettres de cachet.
Sick of imprisonment
for undisclosed reasons.
Can't you see that France
is weary of your deceptions?
Leave France in peace!
France won't be left in peace.
Listen to her.
Listen to her and beware!
- It is an offence ...
- And my defence!
As I'm not a barrister,
I'll go to the truth.
The truth!
It's coming, friends.
Truth is on its way.
Once set in motion,
Counsellor,
it won't be stopped.
This isn't
the Com?die-Fran?aise.
Pity! Actors often show
a sincerity sadly lacking here.
Come to the point, Mr Caron.
De Beaumarchais, Count.
My nobiliary particle is there.
I paid dearly for it. It's mine.
Mr Goezman,
before going to prison, I asked
for an audience many times.
- You refused to see me.
- I only see plaintiffs in court.
Most commendable!
So why finally see me?
Christian feelings
overcame me.
Christian feelings
and a tidy little sum.
Meaning?
As if by magic
you gave me an audience ...
not that it helped me, mind ...
for 100 gold pieces
given to your wife
along with a valuable watch.
You're raving.
I occasionally rave.
But not in court.
Enough. I'm lodging an action
for slander against you!
And I'm dislodging you.
- You're a liar.
- The lies are yours.
Should I name
his accomplice?
His name!
Lejay the bookseller,
here present.
Stand up, Mr Lejay.
Do you know
Mr de Beaumarchais?
I've never seen
the man before.
This proves
Beaumarchais lied.
Enough allegations
and stains on our honour.
Allegations? I'm talking
about tangible proof.
Lejay published a book of mine.
That's not an offence.
Come here, Mr Lejay.
Take an oath.
It's time.
Let me remind you, Mr Lejay,
you're under oath.
Your testimony could have
dire consequences
for the accused.
I do not know this man.
Nor do I know
the Counsellor's wife.
It seems, Mr Caron, that your
defence is seriously lacking.
Your Honour,
I have no other choice
but to cite the man
who acted for me
with Mr Goezman's agent.
Mr Paul-Philippe Gudin
de la Brenellerie.
- Who are you?
- Gudin de la Brenellerie.
I negotiated for
Mr de Beaumarchais
with bookseller Lejay
and his wife Mariette.
Here she is.
Your Honour, to save time,
may I question the witness?
She must take an oath.
Mrs Lejay,
raise your right hand.
Swear to tell
the whole truth.
- I swear, Your Honour.
- I am Your Honour.
Sorry, Your Honour.
Did Mrs Goezman receive
before you 100 gold pieces
and a watch in exchange for
an audience with her husband?
Yes.
Did she, in your presence,
ask your husband to deny
that the transaction occurred?
Yes.
Did she suggest he go abroad
while the affair blew over?
Yes.
Finally ... you'll understand.
Your Honour, gentlemen,
now you'll understand.
Do you accuse Mrs Goezman
of saying, about her husband
in front of witnesses,
"It would be impossible for him
to honestly hold his position
"with what the king gives us."
Yes, she did.
What more did she say?
"We'll pluck the chicken,
but it won't squeak."
The chicken, gentlemen,
the chicken meant me.
This session is adjourned.
If this depraved Parliament
charges you,
I'll cut off Goezman's ears.
Joseph,
you're smothering him ...
The Prince de Conti
thanks you for charging him.
Let me embrace a free man.
So France should treat
citizens like you.
Parliament may not agree.
Thank you.
He dared. He told them.
Judges are corrupt.
Long live Beaumarchais!
Down with Parliament!
Parliament is
a den of thieves.
- May God hear you.
- The people are with him.
They're scared of the people.
- I'm scared too, Mr Gudin.
- Don't be. I'm here.
- Madame?
- Is Mr de Beaumarchais home?
Sorry, but who are you?
He doesn't know me,
but he's expecting me.
Please follow me.
For you.
The lady
you were expecting, sir.
I didn't know
I was expecting you,
but I would have
been wrong not to.
I remember you!
The Royal Hunt Tribunal.
- The duel.
- You were disarmed.
You were disarming.
What can I do for you?
I come from Parliament.
Should I fear the worst?
You will kneel
before the tribunal
and be declared infamous.
All your possessions
will be seized.
You will be barred
from public office.
Your plays will no longer
be published or performed.
So I've been found guilty.
And you came despite all that?
Not despite it, sir,
because of it.
You will have battles to fight.
You can count on my heart
and my intelligence.
You aren't the only one
who's brave, you know.
My name is
Marie-Th?r?se Willer Maulaz.
I've admired you for a long time,
but now I know I love you.
Will you have me?
- My third marriage proposal.
- Please sir, spare me!
You killed your first wives.
Don't marry me.
So you want something
that will last for life?
Let life decide for us.
Meanwhile,
I'll follow you everywhere.
Let's start with my bedroom.
They're calling for you.
Long live Beaumarchais!
Long live freedom!
"Long live freedom!"
Sartines!
Freedom! Why not
"Long live the Republic"?
We'll not endanger
the monarchy
just because Parliament
found your prot?g? guilty!
Your Majesty well knows
that Beaumarchais is faithful.
A faithful troublemaker!
With this trial, he wasn't
targeting you or the regime.
- So you like Beaumarchais?
- He's loyal.
He's a plotter.
He like plots.
A good thing for a playwright.
Not just for a playwright.
Would he really have the talent
to conclude our affair?
I'm sure of it.
He's our only choice.
Beaumarchais!
They say that not long ago
you were a clockmaker.
So they say, yes.
I have an unruly watch
I'm very attached to.
Would you look at it?
I'm out of practice.
I may prove clumsy.
One can never forget
one's origins.
I warned you.
Mr de Beaumarchais.
Come forward.
I've decided you won't
be cited before Parliament.
I'll spare you the humiliation.
But you will have to behave.
Being found guilty
is one thing.
But it might do to be humble.
Be seated, gentlemen.
So what are you planning
to do now?
I can do nothing, Sire.
I cannot write
or bear my name.
I'm barred from public office.
Please take a seat.
When you were less sure of yourself,
less proud, less insolent ...
Sire, hear me ...
I hear you far too often,
Mr de Beaumarchais.
How do you see your future?
Since last night
I can't see it.
When I heard your sentence,
I had an amazing idea.
I would have been amazed
if you hadn't, Sire.
You cannot write
or even use your name.
You will need
an assumed name.
And what can one do
under a false name?
Enlighten me, Sire.
Secret agent.
- Nothing to say?
- I'm lost for words.
It has to be the first time!
Here are your orders.
You're sailing for London
in two days.
Through a friend
you will meet a man.
Or a woman.
The gender isn't important,
nor is it very clear.
- The Chevalier d'Eon?
- So you know?
Very little, Sire,
other than that
the gentleman ... or lady
was once your best spy.
- Daring, cunning.
- Corrupt, hypocritical.
Spying isn't for saints.
So you feel
you're the man for the job.
That person holds
a vital document.
A document which is dangerous
for France.
And which must be
brought back at any price.
Serving the king
is priceless, Sire.
We have decided on the price.
The return of your civic rights.
And to have my play performed?
But of course.
Your orders bear no name.
What will your name be,
Mr Caron?
Ronac!
My name, jumbled up.
Caron, Ronac.
The Baron de Ronac.
Well then ...
Good luck, Baron.
- Sire! Your Majesty ...
- Is rather tired.
Please leave.
Sartines!
Give him all the details.
Goodbye, cousin.
- Are you cold?
- A little. In my heart.
- This country doesn't like us.
- It never has.
France and England
have always hated each other.
Maybe
in another two centuries ...
Still, the king spared you.
I'm not sure
he spared me the worst.
- Mr de Ronac?
- In person.
Pierre-Augustin!
William! It's been ten years.
You haven't changed.
Meet the woman of my life.
As of two days ago!
Pierre is so excessive.
I only hope
it will last a while.
- She has courage.
- You'll both need it.
Why?
You have enemies
everywhere here.
Tomorrow night, I'm receiving
all of high society here.
Including d'Eon.
But beware.
As a member of
the Privy Council
I am unable to protect you.
Chevalier,
your plan is foiled.
Louis XV has just died.
- Who else knows?
- King George will tomorrow.
Stay here.
Speak to no one.
You'll be a rich man.
Mr dear Baron!
Welcome to London.
The whole anti-French faction
is here.
To them, you have emigrated.
So don't forget.
You are enemies of France.
- Is the Chevalier here?
- Yes, dancing.
That young old man?
No, his partner.
Must I leave you with
that stunning creature?
Occupational hazard.
Do you think he's a man?
We'll have to study the puzzle.
Don't study too closely,
my love.
The Baron de Ronac.
Mr de Beaumarchais.
- So you know already?
- My spies are efficient.
The Baroness de Ronac.
The Chevalier d'Eon.
I'm charmed, Miss de Willer.
Since the gauntlet is thrown,
I'd better protect you, madam.
- Come and dance.
- With pleasure.
Since your spies
are so efficient
you must know, Chevalier,
what brings me to London.
Indeed I do.
But I'd never risk dealing
with one of Louis XV's spies,
unless he were
Beaumarchais in person.
I'm flattered.
Let's negotiate.
- By God, yes.
- God or Goddess?
One or the other.
Go ahead.
Ask what you're dying to ask.
- Are you a woman?
- What do you think, my friend?
- Man?
- Oh no, I just said ...
- Still ...
- Be careful.
Absolute certainty
is never as good as proof.
Give me your arm.
I won't force you
to do anything.
I'm told you like women.
As a playwright,
I've studied them at length.
- Care to further your studies?
- I don't wish to be wrong.
Let's get back to the point.
The king knows
you wish to return to France.
Look around you. They hate us.
But what price would I pay?
Negotiate with me the purchase
of a royal document.
- The plan to invade England?
- Which he carelessly gave you.
What could make me
part with it?
A fair balance
in coins of the realm.
- How much?
- 500,000.
He's lost his balance!
My mandate
won't let me go further.
Pity.
How much would a war
with England cost France
if England suddenly
stumbled against that plan?
- I'll have to think about it.
- Let's do so outside.
Nights are inspiring,
and this is a lovely night.
I approached the king
with the idea myself!
I told Sartines my price.
I cannot believe
he said nothing to you.
Were you hoping
to keep a share for yourself?
That would be very low!
- 550,000?
- Nowhere near enough.
They say you like money
almost as much as women.
- 600,000?
- We're getting there.
Go higher,
you'll reach the desired object.
- Sartines said ...
- 700,000.
Nearly there.
Let's say we're there.
I want the money here
tomorrow late morning.
If I forget?
Do that and you'll be in prison
that very night.
The plan will reach
King George's desk immediately.
- Until then, Chevalier.
- Mr de Beaumarchais!
Do you usually leave a woman
once you've had your way?
- If I'm paying, yes.
- Who's paying whom?
You've taken your commission.
Why not take the time
to live a little as well?
It would seem our interview
is making someone jealous.
Arthur?
No. It's not what you think.
Our relationship
is a political one.
He's watching you, not me.
- Me? Why?
- He knows you.
He's an American.
An American?
- Here in the open?
- Under a false name, like you.
He's seeking support
for his people.
Introduce us.
Arthur?
For years I've tried to interest
the king in the Americans.
Beaumarchais,
alias Baron de Ronac.
Arthur Lee, alias Sir Whitman.
Delighted.
Maybe not as much as I am.
Come along.
That one people
could enslave another
has always puzzled me ...
To invade England,
what a vain dream!
- Are you nervous?
- I'm in a hurry.
Your reward for your betrayal.
- You may count it.
- I'd rather trust you.
- I must leave.
- So soon?
An unexpected journey
to elude revenge.
Much obliged.
You know, Mr Lee,
I've kept watch on America's
efforts to be rid of England.
No one in France
has listened to me, though.
Yet both countries want
a weaker England.
What do you want from France?
Guns, powder and cannons.
It would be easier
to gain its esteem.
How do you intend to pay,
Mr Lee?
Your ships would return
laden with riches.
Let's get out of here!
- Not jumping, Baron?
- I loathe cold water.
- Why arrest me?
- Collusion with the enemy.
I'm under the protection
of the King of France.
Your king is dead,
Mr de Beaumarchais.
Mr de Beaumarchais!
Had I known, I would have
got arrested sooner.
- My lord.
- And who might you be?
Th?venot Morande, writer.
Without your talent.
- What do you write?
- Awful stuff.
Anonymous letters
and pamphlets no one reads.
- How do you get by?
- By not publishing.
I'm paid handsomely
to keep my texts unpublished.
That's risky.
Indeed I'm more familiar
with prison than with home.
- How is your Barber?
- You know Figaro?
I know your trial
has cut him short.
I'm trying to update him.
May I?
By all means.
- Whence your happy outlook?
- It comes from hardship.
I strive to laugh at everything
so that I may not weep.
I'd give my fortune
to have written this.
Thank you.
What is your latest work about?
Your king's inability
to honour his wife.
Sorry?
- Have you met Louis XVI?
- As heir apparent, yes.
He doesn't screw, sir.
He does not screw.
I threatened the Court
to tell all
unless I was granted
a golden, happy retirement.
- How did they respond?
- By locking me up here.
With worse to come
if I didn't reveal where
my original pamphlet was.
With worse to come ...
If I didn't reveal where
I had my pamphlet printed.
Mr Gudin ...
were I my cousin the king,
rather than depress me,
this would stimulate me!
It would lead
to such a virile outburst
that I'd produce
an heir to the throne.
I'd stand proud and erect.
- The king may not be amused.
- He won't be.
May God be thanked.
The king
fears this text dreadfully.
If he thinks Beaumarchais can
stop it, he'll have him freed.
- Will you go to the king?
- At once.
Do you know
what Voltaire said?
Beaumarchais
will never be a Moli?re
because his life captivates him
more than his work.
How can I thank you?
- What did he want?
- My hand in marriage.
Wonderful.
Long live the Barber of Seville!
Come.
Pierre will need us for once.
- What can I write about it?
- What has to be written.
That's it's a vile farce
with no future.
- How would you describe it?
- The debacle of the century.
One can survive rebuke, prison,
but not ridicule!
What did you do to your play?
You burdened it with
crude, redundant dialogue.
You added an entire act.
You debased it.
You're quite right.
I wanted to provoke laughter
at any price.
I betrayed my purpose.
It could be that
I'm not a genuine writer.
I'm going back to business.
I'm better at it.
Don't cap laziness
with cowardice.
Just remove the cheapest lines
and go back
to your earlier version.
Why don't you do it yourself,
Mr Biographer?
You seem to know
exactly what is required.
I won't touch
the nasty piece again.
The king.
Mr de Beaumarchais,
I had to write to King George,
who is hardly a friend.
Exactly what possessed you?
My duty to my king, Sire.
To return without suppressing
that slander
was unbearable.
Here is the original, Sire.
I appreciate
your concern for our honour.
But why consort
with American rebels?
Our late king
took great interest in
their war of independence.
Are you quite sure?
When he sent me to London,
King Louis XV
hoped above all else
that I would meet with
Benjamin Franklin.
Unfortunately,
Dr Franklin had already left.
Your grandfather
always mistrusted the English.
Hence this plan
for an invasion.
A most dangerous project!
And ruinous at that.
Sire, should the English win,
we'll lose
our overseas territories
and British power will increase.
That would be
even more ruinous.
- We must prevent it.
- It would be too expensive.
Three million in my estimation.
- Allow me ...
- You allow yourself so much!
I can lend the first million,
convince Spain to lend another
and the third
would come from you.
Now I understand better
why people accuse you
of being so forward.
Sire, should we step back
when our country is at risk?
Who is "we"?
By "we"
I mean France, of course.
And when France succeeds
will you still say "we"?
In that case,
I would say "the king", Sire.
Well said. Take a seat.
- Why are you doing all this?
- For France and because ...
I'm translating
a remarkable text.
What text?
The Declaration of Independence
of the United States.
What is it about?
People's most sacred right.
And what is this right?
The pursuit of happiness, Sire.
Goodbye, Minister.
Louis XV and the Americans!
What lies!
If that plump boy
embraces their cause
he'll go down as a great king.
- It's in his interest.
- Or yours?
Both maybe.
What do you think of him?
The king? Too early to tell.
I like him.
I sense a man with a strong will.
Yes,
the will to submit to yours!
In fact,
you and I love the same man.
But that man doesn't exist.
I imagined him faithful.
You, methodical.
He's obviously neither.
So Gudin,
have you written your Barber?
There isn't a word
that isn't yours.
What's wrong with him?
Is he upset?
Only disappointed.
But I've already sent
my review!
Rewrite,
as Beaumarchais did.
- Where's Pierre?
- He didn't come.
Our favourite author.
My Lord.
Father.
Why weren't you at the theatre
for your new Barber?
Sheer panic, my lord.
Groundless.
It's a great play.
A joyful play, anyway.
Same thing.
When's the next?
- I have no topic, my lord.
- You must!
I read your letter to the critics.
Figaro is dying to return.
My lord, if I put
that scoundrel back on stage
he'd be older and say things
censors wouldn't like.
We'd protect you from them.
You know my new theatre
is being built.
I'd love to open it
with Figaro's latest mischief.
When the king's brother asks,
you must accept
the challenge.
Then I'll be delighted to,
my lord.
Such luxury!
You've come up in the world.
Precisely.
As of yesterday,
I'm Minister for the Navy.
So show me more respect.
Overseeing old cockleshells
makes you so important?
Enough to convey to you
great news ...
from our king.
Great news from the king
can only be one thing.
Since America's first
victories over the English,
the king has realised
we must help our rebel friends.
He took his time
pondering.
Unfortunately, our help
must remain unofficial.
You alone will see to it.
- And with what money?
- Yours.
You offered,
if I remember correctly.
Organise some trade
with the Americans.
In other words,
I'll take all the risks
while the government
takes none!
The English
mustn't suspect a thing.
If they did, our government
would have to disavow you,
condemn you even.
That sounds familiar ...
Good morning, gentlemen ...
- Who is Rodrigue Hortales?
- Company chairman.
- What are these men doing?
- Setting up office.
What for?
Commercial links
with America.
See to its defence,
its future ...
Your signature please, sir.
There.
Pierre,
are you Rodrigues Hortales?
Yes, it's you ...
There you are, my love.
Do you like this floor?
I thought we might live here.
Sir, there's a mirror
to see to downstairs.
I'm coming right away.
So there.
Forget "The Marriage of Figaro."
Forget the promise to Conti.
Rodrigues Hortales is in trade.
I've been so stupid.
He'll never write the play.
You're quite mistaken.
He always ends up
being true to his word.
I'm happy for you.
You're kissing my wife now?
You don't deserve her.
- Are you off?
- To write your biography ...
"Trials of a Cannon Merchant".
Gudin is right, Mr Lee.
I'm selling death.
- Who's Gudin?
- My conscience.
- You have one?
- To each his own.
Make war, like us.
It simplifies things.
You think so?
Hurry, gentlemen.
We'll be late.
Good. We're all set
for a Customs inspection.
What?
Didn't you take care of it?
An inspection must take place
and it will.
The king ...
The king wants no trouble
with the English.
Here's proof!
Mr Hortales?
I'm Burgat, Customs Officer.
Mr Smith has instructed me
to inspect your ship.
By all means, go ahead.
You, to the fore.
You, follow me.
Go ahead.
Go ahead, please.
After you, dear Arthur.
Go ahead.
Go.
- Well?
- Nothing. The hold is empty.
Nothing, sir.
You must have been
wrongly informed.
Under the boards?
Nothing but the hull.
At least I hope so.
Gentlemen ...
You're pale.
Come and get some air.
Your cargo.
Now you can breathe easier.
Mr de Beaumarchais is here,
Your Excellency.
Good. Show him in.
Dr Franklin
is expecting you, sir.
- Your Excellency ...
- Come closer.
Now, Mr de Beaumarchais,
I hear you're not pleased
with your American friends?
Sir, I've sent to America
over 30 shiploads of ammunition
and as yet, I haven't
received a thing in return.
My company
is facing bankruptcy.
Why have you done all this,
Mr de Beaumarchais?
In the name of liberty,
Ambassador.
Then, you can rejoice.
I have just received a message
which is directly
addressed to you.
Over there, on the table.
Read it, please.
Yes.
"Mr de Beaumarchais,
"the Congress
of the United States of America
"in recognition
for all your efforts ..."
The Congress,
Mr Beaumarchais!
You are the New World's hero!
Do you realise?
Do you realise?
Unfortunately, I do.
How did it happen?
He was with the young ladies.
He prolonged the visit
most unreasonably.
- My lord ...
- It's you, Gudin!
- Is Beaumarchais coming?
- He's on his way, my lord.
He'd better hurry.
Please remind him
of his promise.
- He owes you a comedy.
- Ah, yes ...
- Figaro.
- Yes.
I'll try not to die too quickly.
My lord ...
you still don't believe in God?
He has never come to see me.
And now, it's too late.
Receive last rites, anyway.
A token gesture, if only
to please those who love you.
I'll agree, on one condition.
Bring ... bring back Figaro.
He's asking for you.
A macaroon,
Mr de Beaumarchais?
Wouldn't she make
a nice Ch?rubin?
Yes.
I know you're awake.
And I know why.
But what I do elsewhere
is of no consequence.
For as long as you can
put up with me
I beg you to stay with me.
- Who's after me now?
- Your landlord.
- He's richer than I am.
- Let his daughter play Ch?rubin.
Let me finish Act V.
Then there's censorship.
And the actors!
The actors!
They're swindling you.
Have you seen the accounts?
They haven't given you a cent
from the "Barber".
- "You abused her.
- "She is a minor.
- "She's a free agent!"
- So are you, it seems.
Mr de Beaumarchais?
Gentlemen ...
How are you entitled to this?
- The play belongs to us.
- Fascinating. Tell me more.
The play closed after two days.
So it became
the actors' property.
I rewrote it.
It has been a success since.
You owe me one ninth of
the takings. 3225 pounds.
- You've lost your mind.
- You'll lose the trial.
Authors don't want
your handouts.
We've set up an association
to protect our rights.
Author's rights. Good day.
Author's rights!
What next?
Mummy!
Pierre?
He visited the actors
at the Com?die
with a copy of his "Marriage".
He must have organised
a reading.
Love him as he is.
That's very hard.
- What do you think of the play?
- It's his best writing.
Most irreverent.
A formidable weapon.
So he'll be sent to prison?
That will be up to the censors.
It's of no consequence,
remember?
Of no consequence whatsoever.
Don't look so grim.
Don't worry.
It's my play they're judging.
- I won't face the galleys.
- Only the Bastille!
I'll get bed and board.
You'll tend to my wife.
- I believe you know everyone?
- I haven't had the pleasure ...
Madame Vig?e-Lebrun
is representing the queen.
I am honoured, madam.
Before I begin,
I would like you to know,
ladies and gentlemen,
that I'll gladly accept
all the corrections
you deem necessary.
"The Mad Day",
or "The Marriage of Figaro".
Figaro:
I was born to be a courtier.
Suzanne: They say
it's a difficult occupation.
Figaro:
Accept, take and ask,
that's all there is to it.
Don't you fear, Pierre
you may offend
some of our friends?
If they feel targeted, Baron
then they're not worthy
of our friendship.
Figaro:
Now take without need ...
Antonio: Drink without thirst,
make love at any time,
that sets us apart from animals.
Couldn't this be seen as
an invitation to debauchery?
Mr Desfontaines,
you're a writer yourself,
and a good one at that.
As you know, we create
repellent characters
to set off the virtues
of our exemplary characters.
God always needs the Devil,
Mr Desfontaines.
Nobility, wealth, rank, position
make a man proud.
What did you do to earn that?
You went through the trouble
of being born. No more.
- This is a bit much.
- Wait till the end.
Bartholo:
You'll win many hearts.
Figaro: My wife and wealth
notwithstanding,
I'll be honoured and gratified
to win so many hearts.
I'll spare you
the sung verses that follow
because my voice would only
incite you to more severity.
- You stepped on my foot!
- Well, mine have gone numb.
No need to push and shove
just for a ticket.
- A ticket for what?
- Beaumarchais's "Marriage".
I'm not going to see a play.
I loathe the theatre!
All I want is to go home.
- What time does it start?
- At 6 o'clock, sir.
6 o'clock! That's so late.
I won't last until then.
The carriage of His Highness
the Count of Provence.
The carriage of
the Duke of Chaulnes.
Come! Come, my pretty one!
Give us some air.
You know I need a lot.
That's the new Duchess!
My lord,
your theatre is very fine.
- I find it rather little.
- Little ... for Beaumarchais!
Don't worry.
He writes so little.
May I introduce to you
the Duchess de Chaulnes?
Madame.
Just a chicken wing.
It's very light.
I couldn't.
What about a little champagne?
- A toast to Figaro?
- I couldn't swallow a drop.
Why don't you say a prayer
for me?
You have never
believed in God.
Like our poor departed Prince.
I no longer know.
Be brave.
After all, your life
doesn't depend on the play.
You're right.
A lot more is at stake.
19 feet by 26.
Figaro, look at my little hat!
- Do you like it like this?
- Indeed!
Sir? Excuse me ...
Oh sorry, sir.
Look, it's Beaumarchais.
Beaumarchais!
Wit and fortitude could
help you advance your career!
Advancement through wit?
My lord is jesting. Mediocrity
and crawling advance a man.
Keep secrets
that aren't secrets.
Sound profound and mysterious
when you're shallow.
Put on acts, good or bad.
Dispatch spies
and reward traitors.
Tamper with seals,
intercept letters.
Disguise lowly methods
beneath lofty goals.
If that's not politics
then I'm a dead man.
The Count:
You're defining intrigue!
Figaro:
Politics, intrigue, whatever.
Peas in a pod.
You're welcome to them.
What? He wrote that?
- I certainly didn't write it.
- Keep reading.
... against
an anonymous Figaro.
- Rank?
- Gentleman.
You're a gentleman?
If God had so desired
I'd be the son of a prince.
I maintain it's the copulative
conjunction "and"
which links the two clauses,
"I'll pay the young lady
AND I'll marry her.
And I maintain the alternating
conjunction "or" divides it.
"I'll pay the young lady
OR I'll marry her."
The pedant!
I'll counter his Latin with Greek.
I'll annihilate him!
Well ...
Your courage has come back.
More to the point,
I no longer need any. Listen.
To think you resisted
writing the play.
I feel Conti died solely
to force me to keep my word.
Don't believe that.
Conti had little to do with it.
What?
In his enfeebled state,
the Prince
would never have thought of it.
He needed a little help.
And was he helped?
God placed by your side
the best of friends.
If I met one of the mighty,
so quick to humiliate others,
his own pride deflated
by some disgrace,
I would tell him
printed nonsense
only matters if it's censored.
When criticism is forbidden,
true praise cannot exist.
Only little men
fear the scratch of little pens.
Read those lines again,
madam.
When criticism is forbidden,
true praise cannot exist.
Only little men
fear the scratch of little pens.
Enough, I pray you.
- La Borde!
- Sire?
Please give this
to the officer on duty.
Forced to travel a road
I unwittingly trod
and which I'll leave
unwillingly,
I have strewn as many flowers
as my good humour allowed.
When I say my good humour
is it mine any more
than the rest of me?
What is this "me" I embody?
A shapeless array
of unknown parts,
a playful animal, a young man
eager for pleasure ...
So you tormented a dying man?
I helped him, rather.
He didn't want to die
for nothing.
We all know
the loving mother
who brought him
into the world.
All the rest is a mystery,
it's the mystery of love.
It explains to us just how
the son of a bumpkin
can be worth
his weight in gold ...
Through an accident of birth
one is king,
another tends the sheep.
Chance alone
decides their distance,
wit alone
can turn things around.
Of the many kings
whom we honour,
death destroys them
one by one.
But Voltaire will never die!
If this funny little play
holds a lesson
we should learn,
it would be
to favour banter
over reason
and good sense.
So Dame Nature
in her wisdom
leads us
where we want to go,
to the pleasures
that she holds.
Gentlemen,
this play you're seen here
which awaits
your verdict now,
merely aims
to show the customs
of good folk
with ears to hear.
Oppress them
and they'll get angry,
and stir up a hornet's nest.
No matter,
we'll sing a song to end.
Clear the entrance.
His Highness is coming out.
Stand back, please.
Stand back, the play is over.
- Mr de Beaumarchais?
- Yes, what is it?
You're under arrest.
By order of the king.
I am back in my cell.
As always, the staff here
are very kind.
But that kindness
would count for nothing
if I didn't know that again
I am wrongfully imprisoned.
Voltaire once regretted
that I alone may be right.
How I wish he were still here
to witness that at last,
against one single man,
I and everybody else
may be proven right.
Mr de Sartines.
Pack your things.
The king thinks
you've been punished enough.
Thus punishes the king.
Thus pardons the king
when he sees fit.
- Hurry up. Let's go.
- If I want to.
Pardon?
I'll leave here
on one condition.
The king must allow
the "Marriage" to resume.
And the entire Royal Council
must see the play.
What if the king refuses?
The king didn't refuse.
The ruling classes
applauded "Figaro"
without ever realising
they were applauding
one of the first birth pangs
of the French Revolution.
The 18th century
was polishing its last act.
Louis XV
was about to bow out.
Meanwhile, backstage,
Louis XVI was getting ready.
A time of great ideas
and defiant subjects.
Pierre-Augustin Caron
de Beaumarchais,
a clockmaker like his father,
thought, like Voltaire,
that the clocks
were set awfully slow.
So he set about
hurrying them up.
- The Th??tre Fran?aise, please?
- Right there.
Thank you.
Mr de Beaumarchais?
He doesn't see visitors.
You may write to him.
BEAUMARCHAIS
the scoundrel
How inflated! How heavy!
Why so slow?
- The text demands it.
- What text?
This isn't Marivaux or Voltaire.
Lightness is the key.
Who's there?
Will you please let us work?
Work differently.
I nearly fell asleep.
Come on. Start again.
From just after the song
"He's certainly no priest ..."
He's certainly no priest.
His haughty, noble air ...
Gentlemen, just say
your lines, nothing more.
- Aren't you Count Almaviva?
- Figaro, the rascal!
- That's me, my lord.
- Not a word ...
That's you indeed.
With your usual kindness!
I wouldn't have known you.
So well fed!
What do you expect, my lord?
Times are hard.
I'm sorry, sir.
I couldn't help it.
Don't stop. Especially
in front of the author ...
Scoundrel!
- I've a letter, sir.
- Hand it over.
From Mr de Voltaire.
- You know Voltaire?
- My father is his steward.
Let's have a look, then.
Dear Brilliant Scatterbrain,
I'm afraid that in the end
you alone may be right.
Through your trial,
you're attacking Parliament.
You have my best wishes.
Welcome this young Mr Gudin
who worships you.
He can make himself
very useful.
Spare me a thought or two,
as I think of you.
Voltaire.
Voltaire!
I'm at his disposal.
What can I do for you?
Nothing, sir,
other than read my texts.
So you're a writer too!
Everyone is these days.
Even lowly Baculard d'Arnaud
who slanders me in this rag
you dared bring.
Come ...
Gentlemen, excuse me.
Come along!
The bright evening star
has left the skies.
I am awake, alas,
with tormented eyes.
The bright evening star ...
- Miss M?nard?
- Hold on, I'm not dressed.
- Beaumarchais sent me.
- What for?
- To read you a poem.
- Couldn't he come himself?
Well ... I wrote it.
You're a poet?
Beaumarchais
asked for your opinion.
He said you
like young writers.
Oh dear ... What a rogue!
Go ahead, then.
I have a rehearsal soon.
La Napliade.
That's the title of the poem.
The bright evening star
has left the skies.
I am awake, alas,
with tormented eyes.
Is that it?
Come on in.
Now ...
Let's hear it.
The bright evening star ...
Where's that ridiculous writer?
- Who?
Beaumarchais ... Your lover!
- He knows nothing.
- And I know all.
- You and I broke up!
- How did he know?
He must have seen
I was sad.
Be doubly sad.
I'm going to kill him.
No, I beg you, Joseph.
Joseph!
Beaumarchais is in danger.
Hurry!
- Where?
- His home, rue de Cond?.
Get there before the Duke.
Get going, silly fool.
Run them over!
Excuse me.
- In danger? Really?
- A man wants to kill him.
- Who wants to kill me?
- A gigantic duke. A mountain.
A mountain? How aptly put.
- How is Miss M?nard?
- She only heard a few lines.
- What of the rest?
- The Duke broke in.
- He saved your hide.
- Pardon me?
Your poems are atrocious.
They show erudition ...
but nothing about life,
nothing about our times
and nothing about you.
- Why send me to Miss M?nard?
- I thought she'd be less blunt.
You write fairly well,
but you think wrongly.
- Voltaire read your work?
- He did me the honour.
- And what did he think?
- The same as you did.
That's cruel.
What did Voltaire
employ you for?
I prepared texts
and wrote letters for him.
Thank you, C?saire.
Come along.
Come along. You're hired.
You haven't had lunch, sir.
I'll have two dinners.
Write this down, will you?
"Counsellor Goezman ..."
A new lampoon?
No, just a request
for an audience.
"Counsellor Goezman,
"My appeal hearing is imminent.
"My appeal hearing is imminent.
"Parliament has chosen you
as my prosecutor."
Why let this drag on?
Three years ...
Are you familiar with the case?
You're using the trial
as an excuse.
Please explain.
You don't care about what
Count de La Blache owes you.
I think ...
Parliament is a platform
for your ideas.
You favour your ideas
over theatre.
That's not incorrect.
This is dangerous, sir.
It may turn nasty.
- Your father's watch!
- How do you know?
He gave it to you when
you became Royal Clockmaker.
You were 22.
Is there anything about me
you don't know?
What you haven't done yet,
which may need a witness.
Might that be you?
Paris is dangerous, Mr Gudin.
Too much poverty,
too many taxes.
- And people suffer it.
- Who'd risk the Bastille?
You ... given what you write.
I'd like to prove Parliament
corrupt.
- Could you prove it?
- I think so. Here we are.
- What's this?
- My professional garb.
I am a defendant,
but I am also a judge.
- And Master of the Royal Hunt.
- You're a magistrate?
Worse still, I wanted to be one.
So I paid for the charge.
Thank you. Hello.
- Why seek this honour?
- I seek all honours.
Thank you so much.
Parliament remembered me.
My appeal is to be next week.
Come on!
Gentlemen, all rise.
Ladies and gentlemen,
please sit down.
Now ... Good day, sir.
- Where is the plaintiff?
- Here, Your Honour.
Come closer, sir.
Don't be afraid.
Your wall was destroyed?
I built it
at the bottom of my pasture.
To deter prowlers.
And who knocked it down?
Speak up, my good man.
Don't be afraid.
The Prince de Conti.
The Prince de Conti?
Why did he demolish your wall?
To hunt, sir. For his hounds
and horses to get through.
Master of the Royal Hunt!
The Duke de Chaulnes!
Such an honour!
I'm here to avenge my honour,
Mr Caron.
- Prepare to die.
- This is hardly the place.
No matter. You will die.
I wouldn't count on it.
A moment, please. Have a seat.
I wouldn't make a wronged man
wait unduly.
Thank you.
Given that no man,
be he of royal descent,
is above the law that governs
mere mortals,
Louis-Fran?ois Bourbon,
Prince de Conti,
is sentenced to rebuild
Master Mouillot's wall,
or be constrained to do so
by the authorities.
You have a good heart, sir.
A Bourbon to rebuild a wall,
outrageous!
I'm all yours, Duke!
Guard,
kindly lend me your sword.
Why, thank you!
If you'll excuse me, Duke.
- Thank you, madam.
- It's Miss.
En garde, sir.
- Oh no!
- So sorry.
Duke ...
please allow me.
Mr Gudin, would you kindly
do me a favour?
- Certainly, sir.
- Thank you.
Be my witness.
A duel with such a man
will get me into trouble.
I've already
killed a man in a duel.
You won't kill another!
- Note I'm not the aggressor.
- Quite, sir.
- Mr Gudin!
- Sir?
Call the guards quickly.
Very quickly!
Guards!
Mr de Beaumarchais!
I arrest you
in the name of the king.
Counsellor ...
How long can we
detain Beaumarchais?
Until the trial.
Stop him
preparing his defence.
Fear not, Count.
I'll see to it.
That's what you're paid for,
Mr Goezman.
If I can't prepare my case,
I'm a dead man.
- Talk to Sartines, please.
- Talk?
- You've helped me before.
- Not with a minister.
He's Police Superintendent.
Not bad-looking.
Do it yourself
if you fancy him.
I don't like boys, truly.
And I can't leave here.
Marion ...
Marion ...
If I'm found guilty,
I'll never write again.
Not even for you.
You'll never play anything
but vaudeville.
Marion ...
- You're asking me ...
- To do what you do best.
- You're disgusting!
- I only meant acting.
I'm not asking you
to love him,
just to make him think
you like him.
And make love.
Maybe we should wait a bit.
- I'll come back.
- It won't be much longer.
There. It's over.
Mr Gudin ...
what about your poem?
How's your head, my friend?
In working order.
Then I have a task for you.
- The Barber of Seville?
- I've improved on it.
I work best in prison.
Tell me what you think.
My opinion?
Tell the actors at the Com?die
about the changes.
Be my representative. Hurry,
the rehearsal starts soon.
- Le Bihan!
- Coming, sir.
- The young man is leaving.
- Yes, sir.
Tell Beaumarchais to stop
attracting so much attention.
And to drop his attacks
on Parliament.
One of these days the king
won't be able to protect him.
Here you are.
He's a free man.
Is there anything else
I can do for you?
We'd have to wait
a little while.
I'm very sorry,
but I have a matin?e.
I hope there are other
prisoners you want freed.
Oh goodness, sir!
Oh goodness, sir!
Your hands over your heart,
Rosine!
She's flustered.
The hands go over the heart.
- She's going to faint, Alonzo.
- It was such a blow!
A seat. Get a seat.
- Rosine!
- This is unwise.
You're too far apart.
They fear Bartholo but
their attraction is too strong.
Like this. "This is unwise."
- Indeed, how unwise!
- Pierre!
Come on. Let's continue.
Simply say your lines,
no more.
You asked to write
Beaumarchais's life,
not to live it for me!
- I was doing my best, sir.
- It was a good imitation.
Do you still want to help me?
Well, that's my dearest wish.
It seems that Parliament
has already found me guilty.
I've only one weapon left.
My enemies' best weapon.
Corruption.
Beaumarchais
will lose this time.
Not so!
He has the king's support.
Like the rope
supports a hanged man.
- He'll be ruined if he loses.
- He's used to it.
Forget money.
They want his head.
The Parliament
or the king?
Parliament, king,
they're in bed together.
Sorry.
Excuse me. Sorry, sir.
Gentlemen, here is the object
of this hearing.
A mere paper signed
by the banker Duverney
just before his death,
shamefully despoiling
his legitimate heir,
Count de La Blache
here present,
in favour of Squire Caron
whom we're judging today.
However,
neither Mr de la Blache
nor the experts
appointed by the court
acknowledge the authenticity
of the signature on the paper.
Who should we believe?
A man respected by all
and who, so far,
has never
dishonoured his rank,
or a public entertainer
whose trade is make-believe,
whose very name is a lie
and whose fortune originated
in the providential death
of his two former wives?
This man, gentlemen ...
and I solemnly declare this ...
this man is a forger.
A forger and an imposter
society must be rid of!
Do you have anything to add?
Indeed I do, Your Honour.
- What do you have to say?
- Plenty.
Plenty, beyond that little paper
you and Count de La Blache
have decided was a fake.
How do I prove my good faith
with my word alone?
We know what that's worth
for the Parliament I loathe
and you its chief speaker!
- Are you referring to me?
- You and this institution.
You all scorn the truth
to protect your privileges.
Yes, Counsellor.
We're sick of those scandals
erupting daily
which are buried by nightfall.
We're sick
of insipid ministers
who would govern us,
unable to govern themselves.
We're sick
of lettres de cachet.
Sick of imprisonment
for undisclosed reasons.
Can't you see that France
is weary of your deceptions?
Leave France in peace!
France won't be left in peace.
Listen to her.
Listen to her and beware!
- It is an offence ...
- And my defence!
As I'm not a barrister,
I'll go to the truth.
The truth!
It's coming, friends.
Truth is on its way.
Once set in motion,
Counsellor,
it won't be stopped.
This isn't
the Com?die-Fran?aise.
Pity! Actors often show
a sincerity sadly lacking here.
Come to the point, Mr Caron.
De Beaumarchais, Count.
My nobiliary particle is there.
I paid dearly for it. It's mine.
Mr Goezman,
before going to prison, I asked
for an audience many times.
- You refused to see me.
- I only see plaintiffs in court.
Most commendable!
So why finally see me?
Christian feelings
overcame me.
Christian feelings
and a tidy little sum.
Meaning?
As if by magic
you gave me an audience ...
not that it helped me, mind ...
for 100 gold pieces
given to your wife
along with a valuable watch.
You're raving.
I occasionally rave.
But not in court.
Enough. I'm lodging an action
for slander against you!
And I'm dislodging you.
- You're a liar.
- The lies are yours.
Should I name
his accomplice?
His name!
Lejay the bookseller,
here present.
Stand up, Mr Lejay.
Do you know
Mr de Beaumarchais?
I've never seen
the man before.
This proves
Beaumarchais lied.
Enough allegations
and stains on our honour.
Allegations? I'm talking
about tangible proof.
Lejay published a book of mine.
That's not an offence.
Come here, Mr Lejay.
Take an oath.
It's time.
Let me remind you, Mr Lejay,
you're under oath.
Your testimony could have
dire consequences
for the accused.
I do not know this man.
Nor do I know
the Counsellor's wife.
It seems, Mr Caron, that your
defence is seriously lacking.
Your Honour,
I have no other choice
but to cite the man
who acted for me
with Mr Goezman's agent.
Mr Paul-Philippe Gudin
de la Brenellerie.
- Who are you?
- Gudin de la Brenellerie.
I negotiated for
Mr de Beaumarchais
with bookseller Lejay
and his wife Mariette.
Here she is.
Your Honour, to save time,
may I question the witness?
She must take an oath.
Mrs Lejay,
raise your right hand.
Swear to tell
the whole truth.
- I swear, Your Honour.
- I am Your Honour.
Sorry, Your Honour.
Did Mrs Goezman receive
before you 100 gold pieces
and a watch in exchange for
an audience with her husband?
Yes.
Did she, in your presence,
ask your husband to deny
that the transaction occurred?
Yes.
Did she suggest he go abroad
while the affair blew over?
Yes.
Finally ... you'll understand.
Your Honour, gentlemen,
now you'll understand.
Do you accuse Mrs Goezman
of saying, about her husband
in front of witnesses,
"It would be impossible for him
to honestly hold his position
"with what the king gives us."
Yes, she did.
What more did she say?
"We'll pluck the chicken,
but it won't squeak."
The chicken, gentlemen,
the chicken meant me.
This session is adjourned.
If this depraved Parliament
charges you,
I'll cut off Goezman's ears.
Joseph,
you're smothering him ...
The Prince de Conti
thanks you for charging him.
Let me embrace a free man.
So France should treat
citizens like you.
Parliament may not agree.
Thank you.
He dared. He told them.
Judges are corrupt.
Long live Beaumarchais!
Down with Parliament!
Parliament is
a den of thieves.
- May God hear you.
- The people are with him.
They're scared of the people.
- I'm scared too, Mr Gudin.
- Don't be. I'm here.
- Madame?
- Is Mr de Beaumarchais home?
Sorry, but who are you?
He doesn't know me,
but he's expecting me.
Please follow me.
For you.
The lady
you were expecting, sir.
I didn't know
I was expecting you,
but I would have
been wrong not to.
I remember you!
The Royal Hunt Tribunal.
- The duel.
- You were disarmed.
You were disarming.
What can I do for you?
I come from Parliament.
Should I fear the worst?
You will kneel
before the tribunal
and be declared infamous.
All your possessions
will be seized.
You will be barred
from public office.
Your plays will no longer
be published or performed.
So I've been found guilty.
And you came despite all that?
Not despite it, sir,
because of it.
You will have battles to fight.
You can count on my heart
and my intelligence.
You aren't the only one
who's brave, you know.
My name is
Marie-Th?r?se Willer Maulaz.
I've admired you for a long time,
but now I know I love you.
Will you have me?
- My third marriage proposal.
- Please sir, spare me!
You killed your first wives.
Don't marry me.
So you want something
that will last for life?
Let life decide for us.
Meanwhile,
I'll follow you everywhere.
Let's start with my bedroom.
They're calling for you.
Long live Beaumarchais!
Long live freedom!
"Long live freedom!"
Sartines!
Freedom! Why not
"Long live the Republic"?
We'll not endanger
the monarchy
just because Parliament
found your prot?g? guilty!
Your Majesty well knows
that Beaumarchais is faithful.
A faithful troublemaker!
With this trial, he wasn't
targeting you or the regime.
- So you like Beaumarchais?
- He's loyal.
He's a plotter.
He like plots.
A good thing for a playwright.
Not just for a playwright.
Would he really have the talent
to conclude our affair?
I'm sure of it.
He's our only choice.
Beaumarchais!
They say that not long ago
you were a clockmaker.
So they say, yes.
I have an unruly watch
I'm very attached to.
Would you look at it?
I'm out of practice.
I may prove clumsy.
One can never forget
one's origins.
I warned you.
Mr de Beaumarchais.
Come forward.
I've decided you won't
be cited before Parliament.
I'll spare you the humiliation.
But you will have to behave.
Being found guilty
is one thing.
But it might do to be humble.
Be seated, gentlemen.
So what are you planning
to do now?
I can do nothing, Sire.
I cannot write
or bear my name.
I'm barred from public office.
Please take a seat.
When you were less sure of yourself,
less proud, less insolent ...
Sire, hear me ...
I hear you far too often,
Mr de Beaumarchais.
How do you see your future?
Since last night
I can't see it.
When I heard your sentence,
I had an amazing idea.
I would have been amazed
if you hadn't, Sire.
You cannot write
or even use your name.
You will need
an assumed name.
And what can one do
under a false name?
Enlighten me, Sire.
Secret agent.
- Nothing to say?
- I'm lost for words.
It has to be the first time!
Here are your orders.
You're sailing for London
in two days.
Through a friend
you will meet a man.
Or a woman.
The gender isn't important,
nor is it very clear.
- The Chevalier d'Eon?
- So you know?
Very little, Sire,
other than that
the gentleman ... or lady
was once your best spy.
- Daring, cunning.
- Corrupt, hypocritical.
Spying isn't for saints.
So you feel
you're the man for the job.
That person holds
a vital document.
A document which is dangerous
for France.
And which must be
brought back at any price.
Serving the king
is priceless, Sire.
We have decided on the price.
The return of your civic rights.
And to have my play performed?
But of course.
Your orders bear no name.
What will your name be,
Mr Caron?
Ronac!
My name, jumbled up.
Caron, Ronac.
The Baron de Ronac.
Well then ...
Good luck, Baron.
- Sire! Your Majesty ...
- Is rather tired.
Please leave.
Sartines!
Give him all the details.
Goodbye, cousin.
- Are you cold?
- A little. In my heart.
- This country doesn't like us.
- It never has.
France and England
have always hated each other.
Maybe
in another two centuries ...
Still, the king spared you.
I'm not sure
he spared me the worst.
- Mr de Ronac?
- In person.
Pierre-Augustin!
William! It's been ten years.
You haven't changed.
Meet the woman of my life.
As of two days ago!
Pierre is so excessive.
I only hope
it will last a while.
- She has courage.
- You'll both need it.
Why?
You have enemies
everywhere here.
Tomorrow night, I'm receiving
all of high society here.
Including d'Eon.
But beware.
As a member of
the Privy Council
I am unable to protect you.
Chevalier,
your plan is foiled.
Louis XV has just died.
- Who else knows?
- King George will tomorrow.
Stay here.
Speak to no one.
You'll be a rich man.
Mr dear Baron!
Welcome to London.
The whole anti-French faction
is here.
To them, you have emigrated.
So don't forget.
You are enemies of France.
- Is the Chevalier here?
- Yes, dancing.
That young old man?
No, his partner.
Must I leave you with
that stunning creature?
Occupational hazard.
Do you think he's a man?
We'll have to study the puzzle.
Don't study too closely,
my love.
The Baron de Ronac.
Mr de Beaumarchais.
- So you know already?
- My spies are efficient.
The Baroness de Ronac.
The Chevalier d'Eon.
I'm charmed, Miss de Willer.
Since the gauntlet is thrown,
I'd better protect you, madam.
- Come and dance.
- With pleasure.
Since your spies
are so efficient
you must know, Chevalier,
what brings me to London.
Indeed I do.
But I'd never risk dealing
with one of Louis XV's spies,
unless he were
Beaumarchais in person.
I'm flattered.
Let's negotiate.
- By God, yes.
- God or Goddess?
One or the other.
Go ahead.
Ask what you're dying to ask.
- Are you a woman?
- What do you think, my friend?
- Man?
- Oh no, I just said ...
- Still ...
- Be careful.
Absolute certainty
is never as good as proof.
Give me your arm.
I won't force you
to do anything.
I'm told you like women.
As a playwright,
I've studied them at length.
- Care to further your studies?
- I don't wish to be wrong.
Let's get back to the point.
The king knows
you wish to return to France.
Look around you. They hate us.
But what price would I pay?
Negotiate with me the purchase
of a royal document.
- The plan to invade England?
- Which he carelessly gave you.
What could make me
part with it?
A fair balance
in coins of the realm.
- How much?
- 500,000.
He's lost his balance!
My mandate
won't let me go further.
Pity.
How much would a war
with England cost France
if England suddenly
stumbled against that plan?
- I'll have to think about it.
- Let's do so outside.
Nights are inspiring,
and this is a lovely night.
I approached the king
with the idea myself!
I told Sartines my price.
I cannot believe
he said nothing to you.
Were you hoping
to keep a share for yourself?
That would be very low!
- 550,000?
- Nowhere near enough.
They say you like money
almost as much as women.
- 600,000?
- We're getting there.
Go higher,
you'll reach the desired object.
- Sartines said ...
- 700,000.
Nearly there.
Let's say we're there.
I want the money here
tomorrow late morning.
If I forget?
Do that and you'll be in prison
that very night.
The plan will reach
King George's desk immediately.
- Until then, Chevalier.
- Mr de Beaumarchais!
Do you usually leave a woman
once you've had your way?
- If I'm paying, yes.
- Who's paying whom?
You've taken your commission.
Why not take the time
to live a little as well?
It would seem our interview
is making someone jealous.
Arthur?
No. It's not what you think.
Our relationship
is a political one.
He's watching you, not me.
- Me? Why?
- He knows you.
He's an American.
An American?
- Here in the open?
- Under a false name, like you.
He's seeking support
for his people.
Introduce us.
Arthur?
For years I've tried to interest
the king in the Americans.
Beaumarchais,
alias Baron de Ronac.
Arthur Lee, alias Sir Whitman.
Delighted.
Maybe not as much as I am.
Come along.
That one people
could enslave another
has always puzzled me ...
To invade England,
what a vain dream!
- Are you nervous?
- I'm in a hurry.
Your reward for your betrayal.
- You may count it.
- I'd rather trust you.
- I must leave.
- So soon?
An unexpected journey
to elude revenge.
Much obliged.
You know, Mr Lee,
I've kept watch on America's
efforts to be rid of England.
No one in France
has listened to me, though.
Yet both countries want
a weaker England.
What do you want from France?
Guns, powder and cannons.
It would be easier
to gain its esteem.
How do you intend to pay,
Mr Lee?
Your ships would return
laden with riches.
Let's get out of here!
- Not jumping, Baron?
- I loathe cold water.
- Why arrest me?
- Collusion with the enemy.
I'm under the protection
of the King of France.
Your king is dead,
Mr de Beaumarchais.
Mr de Beaumarchais!
Had I known, I would have
got arrested sooner.
- My lord.
- And who might you be?
Th?venot Morande, writer.
Without your talent.
- What do you write?
- Awful stuff.
Anonymous letters
and pamphlets no one reads.
- How do you get by?
- By not publishing.
I'm paid handsomely
to keep my texts unpublished.
That's risky.
Indeed I'm more familiar
with prison than with home.
- How is your Barber?
- You know Figaro?
I know your trial
has cut him short.
I'm trying to update him.
May I?
By all means.
- Whence your happy outlook?
- It comes from hardship.
I strive to laugh at everything
so that I may not weep.
I'd give my fortune
to have written this.
Thank you.
What is your latest work about?
Your king's inability
to honour his wife.
Sorry?
- Have you met Louis XVI?
- As heir apparent, yes.
He doesn't screw, sir.
He does not screw.
I threatened the Court
to tell all
unless I was granted
a golden, happy retirement.
- How did they respond?
- By locking me up here.
With worse to come
if I didn't reveal where
my original pamphlet was.
With worse to come ...
If I didn't reveal where
I had my pamphlet printed.
Mr Gudin ...
were I my cousin the king,
rather than depress me,
this would stimulate me!
It would lead
to such a virile outburst
that I'd produce
an heir to the throne.
I'd stand proud and erect.
- The king may not be amused.
- He won't be.
May God be thanked.
The king
fears this text dreadfully.
If he thinks Beaumarchais can
stop it, he'll have him freed.
- Will you go to the king?
- At once.
Do you know
what Voltaire said?
Beaumarchais
will never be a Moli?re
because his life captivates him
more than his work.
How can I thank you?
- What did he want?
- My hand in marriage.
Wonderful.
Long live the Barber of Seville!
Come.
Pierre will need us for once.
- What can I write about it?
- What has to be written.
That's it's a vile farce
with no future.
- How would you describe it?
- The debacle of the century.
One can survive rebuke, prison,
but not ridicule!
What did you do to your play?
You burdened it with
crude, redundant dialogue.
You added an entire act.
You debased it.
You're quite right.
I wanted to provoke laughter
at any price.
I betrayed my purpose.
It could be that
I'm not a genuine writer.
I'm going back to business.
I'm better at it.
Don't cap laziness
with cowardice.
Just remove the cheapest lines
and go back
to your earlier version.
Why don't you do it yourself,
Mr Biographer?
You seem to know
exactly what is required.
I won't touch
the nasty piece again.
The king.
Mr de Beaumarchais,
I had to write to King George,
who is hardly a friend.
Exactly what possessed you?
My duty to my king, Sire.
To return without suppressing
that slander
was unbearable.
Here is the original, Sire.
I appreciate
your concern for our honour.
But why consort
with American rebels?
Our late king
took great interest in
their war of independence.
Are you quite sure?
When he sent me to London,
King Louis XV
hoped above all else
that I would meet with
Benjamin Franklin.
Unfortunately,
Dr Franklin had already left.
Your grandfather
always mistrusted the English.
Hence this plan
for an invasion.
A most dangerous project!
And ruinous at that.
Sire, should the English win,
we'll lose
our overseas territories
and British power will increase.
That would be
even more ruinous.
- We must prevent it.
- It would be too expensive.
Three million in my estimation.
- Allow me ...
- You allow yourself so much!
I can lend the first million,
convince Spain to lend another
and the third
would come from you.
Now I understand better
why people accuse you
of being so forward.
Sire, should we step back
when our country is at risk?
Who is "we"?
By "we"
I mean France, of course.
And when France succeeds
will you still say "we"?
In that case,
I would say "the king", Sire.
Well said. Take a seat.
- Why are you doing all this?
- For France and because ...
I'm translating
a remarkable text.
What text?
The Declaration of Independence
of the United States.
What is it about?
People's most sacred right.
And what is this right?
The pursuit of happiness, Sire.
Goodbye, Minister.
Louis XV and the Americans!
What lies!
If that plump boy
embraces their cause
he'll go down as a great king.
- It's in his interest.
- Or yours?
Both maybe.
What do you think of him?
The king? Too early to tell.
I like him.
I sense a man with a strong will.
Yes,
the will to submit to yours!
In fact,
you and I love the same man.
But that man doesn't exist.
I imagined him faithful.
You, methodical.
He's obviously neither.
So Gudin,
have you written your Barber?
There isn't a word
that isn't yours.
What's wrong with him?
Is he upset?
Only disappointed.
But I've already sent
my review!
Rewrite,
as Beaumarchais did.
- Where's Pierre?
- He didn't come.
Our favourite author.
My Lord.
Father.
Why weren't you at the theatre
for your new Barber?
Sheer panic, my lord.
Groundless.
It's a great play.
A joyful play, anyway.
Same thing.
When's the next?
- I have no topic, my lord.
- You must!
I read your letter to the critics.
Figaro is dying to return.
My lord, if I put
that scoundrel back on stage
he'd be older and say things
censors wouldn't like.
We'd protect you from them.
You know my new theatre
is being built.
I'd love to open it
with Figaro's latest mischief.
When the king's brother asks,
you must accept
the challenge.
Then I'll be delighted to,
my lord.
Such luxury!
You've come up in the world.
Precisely.
As of yesterday,
I'm Minister for the Navy.
So show me more respect.
Overseeing old cockleshells
makes you so important?
Enough to convey to you
great news ...
from our king.
Great news from the king
can only be one thing.
Since America's first
victories over the English,
the king has realised
we must help our rebel friends.
He took his time
pondering.
Unfortunately, our help
must remain unofficial.
You alone will see to it.
- And with what money?
- Yours.
You offered,
if I remember correctly.
Organise some trade
with the Americans.
In other words,
I'll take all the risks
while the government
takes none!
The English
mustn't suspect a thing.
If they did, our government
would have to disavow you,
condemn you even.
That sounds familiar ...
Good morning, gentlemen ...
- Who is Rodrigue Hortales?
- Company chairman.
- What are these men doing?
- Setting up office.
What for?
Commercial links
with America.
See to its defence,
its future ...
Your signature please, sir.
There.
Pierre,
are you Rodrigues Hortales?
Yes, it's you ...
There you are, my love.
Do you like this floor?
I thought we might live here.
Sir, there's a mirror
to see to downstairs.
I'm coming right away.
So there.
Forget "The Marriage of Figaro."
Forget the promise to Conti.
Rodrigues Hortales is in trade.
I've been so stupid.
He'll never write the play.
You're quite mistaken.
He always ends up
being true to his word.
I'm happy for you.
You're kissing my wife now?
You don't deserve her.
- Are you off?
- To write your biography ...
"Trials of a Cannon Merchant".
Gudin is right, Mr Lee.
I'm selling death.
- Who's Gudin?
- My conscience.
- You have one?
- To each his own.
Make war, like us.
It simplifies things.
You think so?
Hurry, gentlemen.
We'll be late.
Good. We're all set
for a Customs inspection.
What?
Didn't you take care of it?
An inspection must take place
and it will.
The king ...
The king wants no trouble
with the English.
Here's proof!
Mr Hortales?
I'm Burgat, Customs Officer.
Mr Smith has instructed me
to inspect your ship.
By all means, go ahead.
You, to the fore.
You, follow me.
Go ahead.
Go ahead, please.
After you, dear Arthur.
Go ahead.
Go.
- Well?
- Nothing. The hold is empty.
Nothing, sir.
You must have been
wrongly informed.
Under the boards?
Nothing but the hull.
At least I hope so.
Gentlemen ...
You're pale.
Come and get some air.
Your cargo.
Now you can breathe easier.
Mr de Beaumarchais is here,
Your Excellency.
Good. Show him in.
Dr Franklin
is expecting you, sir.
- Your Excellency ...
- Come closer.
Now, Mr de Beaumarchais,
I hear you're not pleased
with your American friends?
Sir, I've sent to America
over 30 shiploads of ammunition
and as yet, I haven't
received a thing in return.
My company
is facing bankruptcy.
Why have you done all this,
Mr de Beaumarchais?
In the name of liberty,
Ambassador.
Then, you can rejoice.
I have just received a message
which is directly
addressed to you.
Over there, on the table.
Read it, please.
Yes.
"Mr de Beaumarchais,
"the Congress
of the United States of America
"in recognition
for all your efforts ..."
The Congress,
Mr Beaumarchais!
You are the New World's hero!
Do you realise?
Do you realise?
Unfortunately, I do.
How did it happen?
He was with the young ladies.
He prolonged the visit
most unreasonably.
- My lord ...
- It's you, Gudin!
- Is Beaumarchais coming?
- He's on his way, my lord.
He'd better hurry.
Please remind him
of his promise.
- He owes you a comedy.
- Ah, yes ...
- Figaro.
- Yes.
I'll try not to die too quickly.
My lord ...
you still don't believe in God?
He has never come to see me.
And now, it's too late.
Receive last rites, anyway.
A token gesture, if only
to please those who love you.
I'll agree, on one condition.
Bring ... bring back Figaro.
He's asking for you.
A macaroon,
Mr de Beaumarchais?
Wouldn't she make
a nice Ch?rubin?
Yes.
I know you're awake.
And I know why.
But what I do elsewhere
is of no consequence.
For as long as you can
put up with me
I beg you to stay with me.
- Who's after me now?
- Your landlord.
- He's richer than I am.
- Let his daughter play Ch?rubin.
Let me finish Act V.
Then there's censorship.
And the actors!
The actors!
They're swindling you.
Have you seen the accounts?
They haven't given you a cent
from the "Barber".
- "You abused her.
- "She is a minor.
- "She's a free agent!"
- So are you, it seems.
Mr de Beaumarchais?
Gentlemen ...
How are you entitled to this?
- The play belongs to us.
- Fascinating. Tell me more.
The play closed after two days.
So it became
the actors' property.
I rewrote it.
It has been a success since.
You owe me one ninth of
the takings. 3225 pounds.
- You've lost your mind.
- You'll lose the trial.
Authors don't want
your handouts.
We've set up an association
to protect our rights.
Author's rights. Good day.
Author's rights!
What next?
Mummy!
Pierre?
He visited the actors
at the Com?die
with a copy of his "Marriage".
He must have organised
a reading.
Love him as he is.
That's very hard.
- What do you think of the play?
- It's his best writing.
Most irreverent.
A formidable weapon.
So he'll be sent to prison?
That will be up to the censors.
It's of no consequence,
remember?
Of no consequence whatsoever.
Don't look so grim.
Don't worry.
It's my play they're judging.
- I won't face the galleys.
- Only the Bastille!
I'll get bed and board.
You'll tend to my wife.
- I believe you know everyone?
- I haven't had the pleasure ...
Madame Vig?e-Lebrun
is representing the queen.
I am honoured, madam.
Before I begin,
I would like you to know,
ladies and gentlemen,
that I'll gladly accept
all the corrections
you deem necessary.
"The Mad Day",
or "The Marriage of Figaro".
Figaro:
I was born to be a courtier.
Suzanne: They say
it's a difficult occupation.
Figaro:
Accept, take and ask,
that's all there is to it.
Don't you fear, Pierre
you may offend
some of our friends?
If they feel targeted, Baron
then they're not worthy
of our friendship.
Figaro:
Now take without need ...
Antonio: Drink without thirst,
make love at any time,
that sets us apart from animals.
Couldn't this be seen as
an invitation to debauchery?
Mr Desfontaines,
you're a writer yourself,
and a good one at that.
As you know, we create
repellent characters
to set off the virtues
of our exemplary characters.
God always needs the Devil,
Mr Desfontaines.
Nobility, wealth, rank, position
make a man proud.
What did you do to earn that?
You went through the trouble
of being born. No more.
- This is a bit much.
- Wait till the end.
Bartholo:
You'll win many hearts.
Figaro: My wife and wealth
notwithstanding,
I'll be honoured and gratified
to win so many hearts.
I'll spare you
the sung verses that follow
because my voice would only
incite you to more severity.
- You stepped on my foot!
- Well, mine have gone numb.
No need to push and shove
just for a ticket.
- A ticket for what?
- Beaumarchais's "Marriage".
I'm not going to see a play.
I loathe the theatre!
All I want is to go home.
- What time does it start?
- At 6 o'clock, sir.
6 o'clock! That's so late.
I won't last until then.
The carriage of His Highness
the Count of Provence.
The carriage of
the Duke of Chaulnes.
Come! Come, my pretty one!
Give us some air.
You know I need a lot.
That's the new Duchess!
My lord,
your theatre is very fine.
- I find it rather little.
- Little ... for Beaumarchais!
Don't worry.
He writes so little.
May I introduce to you
the Duchess de Chaulnes?
Madame.
Just a chicken wing.
It's very light.
I couldn't.
What about a little champagne?
- A toast to Figaro?
- I couldn't swallow a drop.
Why don't you say a prayer
for me?
You have never
believed in God.
Like our poor departed Prince.
I no longer know.
Be brave.
After all, your life
doesn't depend on the play.
You're right.
A lot more is at stake.
19 feet by 26.
Figaro, look at my little hat!
- Do you like it like this?
- Indeed!
Sir? Excuse me ...
Oh sorry, sir.
Look, it's Beaumarchais.
Beaumarchais!
Wit and fortitude could
help you advance your career!
Advancement through wit?
My lord is jesting. Mediocrity
and crawling advance a man.
Keep secrets
that aren't secrets.
Sound profound and mysterious
when you're shallow.
Put on acts, good or bad.
Dispatch spies
and reward traitors.
Tamper with seals,
intercept letters.
Disguise lowly methods
beneath lofty goals.
If that's not politics
then I'm a dead man.
The Count:
You're defining intrigue!
Figaro:
Politics, intrigue, whatever.
Peas in a pod.
You're welcome to them.
What? He wrote that?
- I certainly didn't write it.
- Keep reading.
... against
an anonymous Figaro.
- Rank?
- Gentleman.
You're a gentleman?
If God had so desired
I'd be the son of a prince.
I maintain it's the copulative
conjunction "and"
which links the two clauses,
"I'll pay the young lady
AND I'll marry her.
And I maintain the alternating
conjunction "or" divides it.
"I'll pay the young lady
OR I'll marry her."
The pedant!
I'll counter his Latin with Greek.
I'll annihilate him!
Well ...
Your courage has come back.
More to the point,
I no longer need any. Listen.
To think you resisted
writing the play.
I feel Conti died solely
to force me to keep my word.
Don't believe that.
Conti had little to do with it.
What?
In his enfeebled state,
the Prince
would never have thought of it.
He needed a little help.
And was he helped?
God placed by your side
the best of friends.
If I met one of the mighty,
so quick to humiliate others,
his own pride deflated
by some disgrace,
I would tell him
printed nonsense
only matters if it's censored.
When criticism is forbidden,
true praise cannot exist.
Only little men
fear the scratch of little pens.
Read those lines again,
madam.
When criticism is forbidden,
true praise cannot exist.
Only little men
fear the scratch of little pens.
Enough, I pray you.
- La Borde!
- Sire?
Please give this
to the officer on duty.
Forced to travel a road
I unwittingly trod
and which I'll leave
unwillingly,
I have strewn as many flowers
as my good humour allowed.
When I say my good humour
is it mine any more
than the rest of me?
What is this "me" I embody?
A shapeless array
of unknown parts,
a playful animal, a young man
eager for pleasure ...
So you tormented a dying man?
I helped him, rather.
He didn't want to die
for nothing.
We all know
the loving mother
who brought him
into the world.
All the rest is a mystery,
it's the mystery of love.
It explains to us just how
the son of a bumpkin
can be worth
his weight in gold ...
Through an accident of birth
one is king,
another tends the sheep.
Chance alone
decides their distance,
wit alone
can turn things around.
Of the many kings
whom we honour,
death destroys them
one by one.
But Voltaire will never die!
If this funny little play
holds a lesson
we should learn,
it would be
to favour banter
over reason
and good sense.
So Dame Nature
in her wisdom
leads us
where we want to go,
to the pleasures
that she holds.
Gentlemen,
this play you're seen here
which awaits
your verdict now,
merely aims
to show the customs
of good folk
with ears to hear.
Oppress them
and they'll get angry,
and stir up a hornet's nest.
No matter,
we'll sing a song to end.
Clear the entrance.
His Highness is coming out.
Stand back, please.
Stand back, the play is over.
- Mr de Beaumarchais?
- Yes, what is it?
You're under arrest.
By order of the king.
I am back in my cell.
As always, the staff here
are very kind.
But that kindness
would count for nothing
if I didn't know that again
I am wrongfully imprisoned.
Voltaire once regretted
that I alone may be right.
How I wish he were still here
to witness that at last,
against one single man,
I and everybody else
may be proven right.
Mr de Sartines.
Pack your things.
The king thinks
you've been punished enough.
Thus punishes the king.
Thus pardons the king
when he sees fit.
- Hurry up. Let's go.
- If I want to.
Pardon?
I'll leave here
on one condition.
The king must allow
the "Marriage" to resume.
And the entire Royal Council
must see the play.
What if the king refuses?
The king didn't refuse.
The ruling classes
applauded "Figaro"
without ever realising
they were applauding
one of the first birth pangs
of the French Revolution.