Immortal Beloved Page #4

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You are impossible.

Perhaps.

You and I...

Could Karl...

not replace

the son that you lost?

I know what it is to lose a son.

I know the sorrow Johanna feels.

- She has no right to him!

- She's his mother!

She's his mother!

What new insanity is this?

It has come to our attention

that you have been bribing servants...

in order to have access to the boy

in secret...

while you well know that Herr Beethoven

would not allow...

You are talking about my son.

My son, who I have not seen for a year,

who is being taught to hate me.

The decree of the court states...

I know what it says.

Can you look me in the eye and tell me

a mother has no right to see her son?

I will fight this.

You will lose.

He has many enemies.

The filth was bad enough.

That man is mad.

He cannot hear a thing.

He's always shouting and yelling.

The landlord would chuck him out

from his carrying on.

The boy is just as bad.

His uncle encouraged him.

I overheard them discussing how

they was going to beat me, so I left.

Was the boy kept clean?

He'd go a month

without fresh underwear.

That man cannot look after himself,

let alone a child.

I would now like to call

Karl van Beethoven.

Good afternoon, Karl.

Good afternoon.

How does your uncle treat you?

Well.

He has a hot temper?

Yes.

- Do you fear his temper?

- No.

- Did he ever punish you?

- Only when I deserved it.

Who would you prefer to live with?

Your uncle or your mother?

Do you want to stay

with your uncle?

Yes.

Speak up.

- Yes.

- You don't sound certain.

It would be better

if Uncle had someone to be with him...

because he is hard of hearing

and can't talk to me.

In fact, he is stone deaf.

Do you love your mother?

Yes.

Do you miss her?

Yes.

Then would you not prefer

to live with her?

Uncle needs me.

What I would prefer...

is that we might all live together.

This way, gentlemen, please.

Herr Beethoven,

our most accomplished composer.

It is an honor.

Chancellor Metternich...

due to his infirmity, Herr Beethoven

has requested that I speak for him.

As you wish.

His case in the magistracies

is not going well.

That is, Frau Beethoven

has bribed witnesses...

Sir, I need your help.

My young nephew, Karl...

he is being corrupted

by this woman's poisonous carryings on.

- What Herr Beethoven means...

- Why should I help you, Beethoven?

"Metternich is a worse tyrant

than Napoleon".

That was recorded last Tuesday

at the Swan Tavern.

"Metternich should be forced

to eat my sh*t".

And so on, and so forth.

Herr Beethoven,

there are many forces in Austria...

that foment revolt.

I like a lively discussion

as much as the next man...

but I fear that these days

we cannot allow quite so much...

How can I put it?

Enthusiasm.

Perhaps it would be better

if our great artists...

were a little more circumspect.

Herr Beethoven proposes

that he write a grand oratorio...

praising Austria

and your magnificent diplomacy...

at the Congress of Vienna...

that has secured the peace

for all of Europe.

This court...

has seen fit to ordain...

that Johanna van Beethoven...

shall be excluded from...

This court is corrupt!

Now that the boy was delivered

to Ludwig, body and soul...

the deaf genius began in earnest what

was to be his most tragic endeavor...

to make his ward a great virtuoso.

For five long years

this was his goal...

and in those five years

Ludwig wrote nothing.

Not the oratorio

he promised Metternich.

Not the mass he promised

the London Philharmonic Society.

Not the great symphony

he spoke of endlessly.

Nothing.

In Vienna they thought he was finished...

deaf, written-out.

Rossini had performed

The Thieving Magpie..

and Italian opera was all the rage.

Beethoven was no longer performed.

Karl!

It's late.

I'm sorry, sir.

It's disgusting.

Why does she disobey me? She knows

my bowel is in a terrible state.

You're trying to poison me!

Well, she might appear

plump and pretty to you...

but she's a vulgar b*tch.

Gossips about me all over town.

Frulein!

Yes, sir?

Your food is poison.

You're fired.

You foul old bastard.

Write.

Where are you going?

Away from you.

Well, leave me, then.

You're evil.

Like your mother.

Leave me alone with no food.

Have you seen Karl?

You're worthless!

Worthless!

I'm sending for the doctor now.

Tomorrow.

Play for me.

Not now.

It will calm me.

Play.

I found this the other day.

"The Maestro,

Ludwig van Beethoven...

has the pleasure

to announce a concert...

which will be the debut of his nephew

and ward, Karl van Beethoven...

a prodigy instructed

by the Maestro himself".

Why, this is wonderful. The very thing

that will raise his spirits.

You must be very excited.

Anton, have you ever heard me play?

- No, but...

- You have to help me.

I'm at the end of my tether.

Endless hours at the keyboard.

For what?

He cannot hear

my ham-fisted playing.

He does no work.

All he does is

scribble incomprehensible phrases.

Then he bellows this stupid,

childish tune at the top of his lungs.

He says this is the motif

of a grand symphony.

I think it's ridiculous.

- That cannot be.

- But it is.

I think he's going mad.

So...

I am to abandon my plans, eh?

I am placing...

intolerable pressure..

on Karl, eh?

He is a...

a mediocre talent.

There are always these...

asinine fellows like Schindler...

with their...

commonplace opinions...

from their commonplace minds.

Schindler is right.

Oh.

Anton Schindler...

bad violinist...

knows more about music

than Ludwig van Beethoven.

This is too much.

You're torturing the boy.

I always thought

that you were a bore...

and an ass...

but you've had your uses,

and now you have none.

Get out.

Get out.

Wake up, bastard!

Schindler!

Wake up!

Karl.

He's gone...

on your account.

My Karl has shot himself.

A farmer found him in the ruins.

He carried him here on his cart.

I fear the worst.

Uncle.

I was expecting you.

Karl was a bungler with firearms.

The bullet

did not penetrate his skull.

He did not die.

But the legend grew in Vienna

of Ludwig's cruelty to the boy...

of how he drove him to a desperate act.

Those who had

silently disliked him...

now shouted their derision...

from the rooftops.

There is a letter.

I must find this lady.

He bequeathed

his entire estate to her.

It was not written to me.

Then who?

It was she who came between us.

I loved him completely...

but he could never

return that sentiment.

He could not forget her.

Who is she?

I failed him.

We all failed him.

He gave us so much.

We couldn't even

make his life tolerable.

This last wish

must be as he wanted.

Tell me.

Tell me her name.

The answer was always

in front of you.

"While still in my bed...

my thoughts turn to you...

my immortal beloved.

What will you do?

Some happy, some sad...

I don't know.

waiting to see

whether fate will hear us.

I don't know.

I can live only completely

with you or not at all.

Yes. It must be".

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