Rappaccini's Daughter (1980) - full transcript

-America possessed a community
of brilliant literary figures

in the first half of the 19th
century-- names like Emerson,

Melville, Thoreau,
and the man we credit

with inventing the short
story form, Edgar Allan Poe.

Out of this rich landscape
of early American literature,

we have chosen a story
by Nathaniel Hawthorne.

It's called Rappacinni's
Daughter, written in 1843,

within a year of young
Thoreau's stay at Walden

Pond among the beautiful
intricacies of nature.

But Hawthorne was not
really comfortable

with the Transcendentalists and
their easy embrace of nature.



There's a lovely
garden in his story,

but it's the creation of
an overzealous scientist,

a man who would
manipulate others' lives,

tamper with their souls.

And that was something
Hawthorne thought evil indeed.

The author called
his stories romances.

They're like fairy
tales in a way.

This one begins in a
province of northern Italy,

as Hawthorne says,
a long time ago.

[music playing]

-Excuse me, sir.

Do you know where I
might find lodging?

-I don't know.

-Do you know anyone
who might know?



-Maybe try the tavern.

[laughter]

-There's one place I know
of near the university.

-Thank you very much.

GIOVANNI (VOICEOVER):
I have found

lodging that is
within my meager means

in an old mansion whose
first master was immortalized

in Dante's poem.

Perhaps Dante once
occupied my room.

It is large but gloomy.

I know it will pass, but I
am at present so heartsick.

It is said one leaves a part of
oneself wherever one has been.

Now I know it is so.

I am here, but my heart
has remained in Naples.

[knocking]

-Good evening, senor.

-You were a great
scholar, senor?

-No.

But I hope to be one day.

I fell asleep.

The room is so quiet.

-Oh, yes, senor.

It faces the rear.

-Are the other boarders
students like myself?

-There are no other boarders.

It's just myself and
Emma, who helps me.

It is very large, as these
old houses are, senor.

I have all that I can
do to keep it clean.

-What a beautiful garden.

Is it yours?

-Heaven forbid.

-Well, whose garden is it?

-It is the botanical garden
of the Senor Dr. Rappacinni.

-Rappacinni?

Why do I feel I know that name?

-The doctor is a
very famous man.

I would not doubt
that his fame has

spread as far as to your Naples.

-[speaking italian]

-[speaking italian]

[music playing]

-Beatrice.

BEATRICE: I'm here, Father.

Are you in the garden?

-Yes, Beatrice.

I need your help.

-Yes, Father?

We have work to do, my dear.

Look how this plant
has been neglected.

I can no longer care for it.

You must tend it now.

-Yes, my sister.

Beatrice will care for you.

Oh, yes, my love.

You will reward her.

-Come, Beatrice.

That will do.

It is getting too
dark for our work.

We must retire for the evening.

[music playing]

GIOVANNI (VOICEOVER): In the
stone heart of this cold city,

I have discovered a
veritable Garden of Eden,

complete with Eve.

Perhaps this will keep me in
close communion with nature.

[knocking]

Who is it?

EMMA: Senor, you have overslept.

Will you eat now?

-Yes, thank you.

Well, one moment, please.

-Bonjourno, senor.

Here is your food.

You have slept well?

-Yes, very well.

No, no, don't open the window.

Oh, the morning is beautiful.

Emma, tell me about
the young woman

who lives with Dr. Rappacinni.

-Who?

The young woman, senor?

-Yes.

I saw her last night
tending the flowers.

He called her Beatrice.

-Beatrice, she's the daughter.

FEMALE SPEAKER: Emma.

-The daughter?

-Si, senor.

Madam call me, senor.

I must go.

-So you are the son of my
old friend Vitorio Gausconti.

One day, you will
stand in that room

and face the scowls and the
medical faculty, and me.

-Oh, no, sir.

I'm a student of letters.

-Oh, alas.

But we both, each in his own
way, study mankind, do we not?

You by the body of his works,
I by the works of his body.

You ask me about Dr. Rappacinni.

How do you know him?

-The window of my room
overlooks his garden.

You know him, then?

I knew him.

We were colleagues.

I must give him his due.

Dr. Rappacinni is a
brilliant botanist.

-But?

-He is the complete scientist.

He cares more for his
science than for mankind.

-Doesn't that show a
certain nobility of spirit?

Are there many men
capable of so pure a love?

-Heaven help us if there were.

And there are rumors of
unnatural experiments.

Heresy, of course.

All I am sure of is that the
only things that claim his love

are his plants.

-Forgive me, Professor,
but you must be mistaken.

However dearly he
loves his science,

surely there is one thing more
dear to him-- his own daughter.

-Aha, the cat is out.

It is the daughter.

A rarest and fairest specimen
in the Doctor's garden.

So you have seen
the Senora Beatrice?

-Yes.

What do you know of her?

-Very little.

Save that her father
has taught her so much,

she could take my chair
at the University.

I will not ask if
she's beautiful.

Your interest tells me that.

-You've never seen her yourself?

-Not I nor any other.

-Excuse me, Professor.

Are you saying no one
has ever seen her?

-To my knowledge, she
has never ventured

beyond the walls of that garden.

-Surely, you don't meant never.

-I do.

-Never in her life?

-To my knowledge.

-Does her father
keep her prisoner?

She can't be ill.

She seems the very
flower of health.

-Flower of health?

That's very good.

That is very good.

Oh, come, my boy.

Some wine.

-[speaking italian]

-[speaking italian]

-[speaking italian]

[music playing]

-Give me your breath, my sister.

For I am faint with common air.

Let me have this blossom
to wear beside my heart?

-Good evening, Senora.

-Senor?

-Senora.

These cruel flowers
deserve a better fate

than a scholar's musty room.

Will you wear them, too, for
the sake of Giovanni Guasconti.

-Thank you, Senor.

I would return your gift in
kind with this flower of mine,

but I could never reach you.

So Senor Gausconti, you
must content yourself

with my thanks.

[music playing]

-Giovanni Gausconti?

I said to myself, but did I grow
up side by side with the father

and shall I now let the son
pass me like a stranger?

-I ask your pardon, sir.

I was lost in thought.

-I am relieved.

But you had forgotten.

I was on my way to see you.

I received this morning
a letter from Naples

from your father saying he had
had very little word from you

since you left.

-You are my conscience.

I had intended to write.

I shall do so this very night.

-And so shall I. I shall
tell him that I saw you

and that you are well.

But tell me, my
boy, are you well?

-Rappacinni.

My boy, your life
is in grave danger.

You must quit your
lodgings at once.

-What?

-Quit your lodgings, and
if need be, Padua itself.

-Professor, I must
bid you good day.

-I will not let you go
until I have exact a promise

that you will avoid the
Senorita Beatrice as if she

were the forbidden fruit itself.

-Senor Professor, you
are my father's friend,

and I want to show you
every respect and deference.

So I ask you, please,
to let me pass.

As it happens, you can
lay your fears to rest.

Rappacinni's daughter
has been avoiding me.

Now, I bid you good day, sir.

-Senor.

Listen, Senor.

There is a private
entrance into the garden.

-What?

-Madam must not know this.

Yes.

A private entrance into Senor
Dr. Rappacinni's garden.

They need them to
be busy believed

to be admitted among
those beautiful flowers.

-Show me the way.

-I see you are a lover
of flowers, Senor.

How did you gain
admittance to our garden?

-I had hoped
through your agency.

-No.

But I'm happy to
bid you welcome.

I suppose you could
not resist a closer

view of my father's garden.

I don't blame you.

If my father were
here, he could tell you

a great many things about
the individual flora.

My father is a great
and famous botanist.

-And you yourself, senora,
if what they say is true,

are well versed in the
botanical sciences.

-Are there really
such stories about me?

Do not believe it, Senor.

I am no such prodigy.

Though I've grown up
among these flowers,

I know no more about them than
their colors and fragrances.

Sometimes I wish I
could rid myself even

of that small knowledge.

-Senora?

-And you, Senor Gausconti,
are you a student of science?

-No, Senor, of letters.

-At the University?

-Yes.

-My father lectured
there for many years.

He left in order to devote
himself to his researches.

-In which seem to be
of great help to him.

-I help him care
for the flowers.

There are those whose odors
are too potent for him.

He's in frail health.

-Senora.

I must make a full confession.

I cannot accept your hospitality
on false credentials.

I did not come here because
of my interest in flowers.

-I know.

Please, do not believe the
rumors about my science, Senor.

Believe nothing but what
you see with your own eyes.

You must excuse me.

It has become late.

Good evening, Senor Gausconti.

[music playing]

GIOVANNI (VOICEOVER):
For days now, I

have waited by the window,
but she has not reappeared.

-Senor, are you teaching
this class, or am I?

-Why you are, Professor.

-Well, in that case,
he says, sit down

and stop acting like an idiot.

Bow down before
royalty, you peasants.

-Giovanni, why did you
throw away a winning hand?

-I'm sorry.

I wasn't thinking.

-Don't apologize.

You're making me wealthy.

Another hand?

-I think I'd better not.

-Oh, I don't think I can
afford to lose you, Giovanni.

You know the old say-- unlucky
in cards, lucky in love.

How is your luck these days?

-Forgive me, my sister.

You're pale.

I had almost forgotten you.

I've been so--
I've neglected you.

-Senora.

Where have you been
these several days?

Have you been ill?

-No.

My father forbade me
to go out of doors.

-Why?

-He saw me speaking with you.

-He does not want
you speaking with me?

-No.

-But why?

-I do not know.

-How is it you're
speaking with me now?

-My father is not at home.

If you board at Senora
Lizaberta's, then you

are a stranger.

-Yes.

I come from Naples.

-Naples?

What was it one author wrote?

Alone among our great Italian
cities, Naples, like Paris,

is a capital, the rest
mere provincial towns.

Who was it that wrote that?

-Some Parisian or Neapolitan.

-Of course, we have our
own wonders here in Padua.

Have you seen the
Giotto frescoes?

-Not yet.

Have you?

-Are you never lonely?

-I have my work
with the flowers.

I have my books, music.

-It is you, then, who plays?

You play very beautifully.

-You lie even more beautifully.

-What is that piece you play?

I'm unfamiliar with
it, but it haunts me.

-That is a melody
of my own making.

-It is so sad.

-Do you find it so?

To me, it seems
peaceful, reconciled.

But I promise when you were
at home to play only half

of your chords.

-Beatrice, may I see you again?

-It is late.

You must go now.

My father will be home soon.

-Tell me when I
may see you again.

-I do not know.

-Tomorrow evening?

Tomorrow evening?

-If I can.

-I'll wait for
you by the window.

You'll call to me as
soon as he leaves.

-Perhaps.

You must go now, please.

-Do you remember when I
flung you the bouquet?

You offered to return it with
a blossom from this plant.

Let me pluck one now.

-Don't touch it!

Never, never touch it.

-Good morning, Senor.

Ah, another beautiful morning.

[italian], eh?

-I can't tell you.

My eyes are not yet open.

-[speaking italian]

Your wrist, Senor.

No fingers could leave
such a mark, Senor.

GIOVANNI (VOICEOVER):
I can now confess

approaching that rendezvous
in the garden with something

I came to dread.

Yet how unfounded.

Never have I known eyes
of such translucence.

Through them, the very
soul appears to shine.

And once having
glimpsed such innocence,

how can one ever again
succumb to doubt and fear?

When I am with her, I
have a sense of unreality.

I'm actually the
side of the being

who has made my
life a waking bliss.

I have sat close to her and
caught the heat of her breath

on my lips, and there's
a sweet richness,

like the exhalation of a flower.

And we do not kiss.

There are no kisses, but
yet by all that's holy,

I swear we love.

-Do you ever wonder why it
is only here that we meet?

-It does not matter.

-Are you sure?

-I would only know what
you would have me know.

I would know and believe only
what I know with my own heart.

-What do you know
with your heart?

-All that I have
ever dreamed of.

-No.

You mustn't.

-Forgive me, I-- I
thought that you--

-No.

-I wanted you to hold me
and-- Giovanni, I can not.

BEATRICE: Giovanni.

Giovanni.

It's past the hour.

Why don't you come to me?

-You are on my
property, young man.

Who are you, and what
business have you here?

-We've never formally met, sir.

My name is Giovanni
Gausconti, and--

-Giovanni.

I waited for you.

You are as late as the shadows.

-Beatrice, what place is this?

-You know this is my garden.

-I've never seen this
part of it before.

Where did your father go?

-It is not important.

You're here.

I'm glad you're here.

I've wanted you here.

-Beatrice, I don't understand.

-I have something for you.

A surprise.

Hurry, Giovanni.

Why do you keep me waiting?

[noise of heartbeat]

Come to me, Giovanni.

Come to me.

-Here, my boy.

Drink this.

-Professor.

What are you doing here?

-I was worried
about you, my boy.

You have been absent from
the University for days.

-I thank you for your concern.

I assure you, I'm
quite all right.

-Huh?

And it's normal, this slow
and stertorous breathing,

the skin, warm and slightly
flushed, the husky voice,

pulse slow?

-Quite all right.

-Cool.

Then you won't mind my
letting in some light?

My dear boy, I am sorry.

I was reading ancient
history last night.

I came across the
most singular tale.

It seems that Alexander, when
he was conquering the world,

was sent by a powerful Eastern
prince a propitiatory gift,

a beautiful maiden as
gorgeous as a sunset.

But what especially
distinguished

her was her perfumed breath.

It was like a garden
of Persian roses.

Oh, the young
Alexander was naturally

smitten with this maiden.

But his tutor discovered
a terrible secret.

This lovely, innocent
girl was mithridatic.

-Mithridatic.

-From the day of
birth, she had been

nurtured with a
deadly poison until it

imbued her whole
nature, until she

herself became the deadliest
poison in the world.

Her love would have been
malignant, her kiss death.

Isn't that an
extraordinary tale?

-Please.

This is surely a dream.

-And it is time for
you to wake up, my boy.

What is this fragrance
in your room?

-Fragrance?

-Yes.

It is sweet but not
entirely agreeable.

-It must be your imagination.

-Yes.

It reminds me of Persian roses.

-I cannot follow
your insinuations.

-I am not insinuating, my boy.

I am telling you that that
tale has become reality

through the deadly
science of Rappacinni

and in the beloved
person of your Beatrice.

-No!

This is still the nightmare.

-Now, my boy, did I say there
was no hope in salvation?

The young Alexander was
saved by men of learning

and so shall you be.

Behold this little ampuler.

One sip from it
will render harmless

all the poisons
of the [italian].

Give it to your
beloved Beatrice.

It will cure her affliction.

We will thwart old Rappacinni
yet, won't we, my boy?

GIOVANNI (VOICEOVER):
The fever has

passed, and with
it, the nightmare.

I'm a little healthier.

I'm no pitiful flower
to perish in her grasp.

-Giovanni.

-Oh, hello.

-Where ever have you
been hiding yourself?

Have you been in retreat?

Have you been hunched over
some illuminated manuscript

like the good
little monk you are?

You don't look well.

-I've been a bit
ill, that's all.

-Aha.

Well--

-[speaking italian]

-For you, Giovanni, to
adorn your monkey self.

[italian]

-[speaking italian]

BEATRICE: Giovanni!

Giovanni?

-Yes, Beatrice?

I'm here.

[music playing]

-This plant, where
did it come from?

-Where did it come from?

Right here.

-Here in Padua?

-Here in this garden.

My father created it.

-Created it?

-Yes.

It was his child, even as I am.

We are sisters.

At the same hour I
first drew breath,

she sprung from the soil.

The offspring of
his intellect, as I

am the offspring of this flesh.

Don't.

Don't touch it.

-But why?

-I can touch it because
I grew up and blossomed

with this plant
and drew sustenance

from her breath, with
what consequences

I think you have
suspected and now know.

My father's passion for science
made me unfit for human love,

My father's passion for science
made me unfit for human love,

doomed me to live alone forever.

-And was that doom very
hard for you to bear?

-Yes, but I did not know it.

Not until the angels sent
you to me did I realize how--

-Monster!

And so you drew me
into it, severed me

from humanity, imprisoned
me in this nightmare!

-Giovanni!

-Now I am unfit for human love.

You're the only person in the
world my breath will not kill.

I wish it might.

-What are you saying?

-Fate, queen of hell!

You doomed me, made me a
thing as loathsome as you are.

-Perhaps it is true.

I am the horror you describe.

By why do you chastise yourself?

You have but to leave the
garden and return to the world

beyond the wall, forgetting
there ever was a Beatrice.

-Will you still play ignorant?

Behold, the gift
received through love

of angelic Beatrice.

-No.

No.

For the love of God, for your
life, you must not kiss me.

[music playing]

God in heaven.

Now I see it.

Oh, Giovanni, it
was not I, never!

I only thought to
love you, be with you,

then let you go your way.

-My Beatrice.

My dearest Beatrice.

I have forgotten.

Beatrice, this vile
contains an essence

that will free us from
your father's power.

It is an antidote
distilled of blessed herbs.

Beatrice, it will save us.

-An antidote?

-We must drink it
together and be purified.

-Give it to me, then.

Let me drink it first.

You must wait before you drink.

-But Beatrice--

-My daughter.

Pluck a blossom from your sister
and give it to your bridegroom.

It cannot harm him now.

He stands as far
apart from common men

as do you from ordinary women.

-I never wished to stand apart.

-I know, my child.

And you don't have to now.

I have made you a companion.

You need never again be lonely.

I have made you and
eternity of happiness.

-And eternity of happiness?

Never to leave this garden?

-Why, lad, this garden is Eden.

-Rappacinni.

-And you are its Adam and Eve.

Nothing can separate you now.

Nothing can harm you.

-Beatrice!

-What is it?

-Beatrice, the antidote!

-Antidote?

What have you done?

Poison was her life.

-Beatrice.

You knew this.

And yet you drank.

-I wanted to be
loved, not hated.

Not feared by you.

Giovanni, was there not from
the beginning more poison in you

than in me?

Rappacinni: My daughter.

[music playing]