Marat\Sade Page #5

in vicious circles.

I don't believe in idealists

who charge down blind alleys.

I don't believe in any of the sacrifices

that have been made for any cause.

- I believe only in myself.

- I believe in the Revolution.

We have ragged out

the old tyrants.

And now we have new tyrants.

But still I believe in the Revolution.

The spoils have been

grabbed by businessmen...

...middlemen, financiers, salesmen,

operators, manipulators.

But the Revolution must continue.

Those fat monkeys

covered in banknotes...

Have champagne

and brandy on tap...

They're up to their eyeballs

in franc notes...

We're up to our noses in crap...

Those gorilla-mouthed fakers...

Are longing to see us all rot...

The gentry may lose a few acres...

But we lose the little we've got...

Revolution,

it's more like a ruin...

They're all stuffed

with glorious food...

They think about

nothing but screwing...

And we are the ones

who get screwed...

Pick up your arms!

Fight for your rights!

Grab what you need

and grab it now!

Or wait a hundred years and see

what the authorities arrange!

Up there they despise you, because you

never had the cash to learn to read and write.

You're good enough for the dirty

work of the Revolution...

...but they screw their noses up at you

because your sweat stinks.

You have to sit way down there,

so they won't have to see you.

And down there

in ignorance and stink...

...you're allowed to do your bit

towards bringing in the golden age...

...in which you'll all do

the same old dirty work.

Up there in the sunlight...

...their poets sing

about the power of life...

...and the expensive rooms

in which they scheme...

...are hung with exquisite paintings.

So stand up!

Defend yourselves from their whips!

Stand up!

Stand in front of them...

...and let them see how many

of you there are.

Do we have to listen

to this sort of thing?

We are citizens of

a new enlightened age.

We're all revolutionaries nowadays, but

this is plain treachery, we can't allow it.

The cleric you've been listening to...

...is that notorious priest, Jacques Roux...

...who to adopt

the new religious fashion...

...has quit the pulpit

and with earthier passion...

...rages from soapboxes.

A well-trained priest, his rhetoric

is slick to say the least.

'If you'd make paradise

your only chance...'

'...is not to build on clouds

but solid France.'

The mob eats from his hand while Roux knows

what he wants, but not what he should do.

Talk's cheap.

The price of action is colossal...

...so Roux decides to be the chief

apostle of Jean-Paul Marat.

Seems good policy...

...since Marat's heading

straight for Calvary...

...and crucifixion,

all good Christians know...

...is the most sympathetic way to go.

We demand the opening of

the granaries to feed the poor.

We demand the public ownership of

workshops and factories.

We demand the conversion

of the churches into schools...

...so that now at last something

useful may be taught in them.

We demand that everyone should do

all they can to put an end to war.

This damned war which is run

for the benefit of profiteers...

...and leads only to more wars.

We demand that the people who started

the war should pay the cost of it.

Once and for all, the idea of glorious victories

won by the glorious army must be wiped out.

Neither side is glorious.

On either side, they're just frightened

men messing their pants...

...and they all want

the same thing.

Not to lie under the earth...

...but to walk upon it...

...without crutches.

This is outright pacifism.

At this very moment, our soldiers are laying down their

lives for the freedom of the world and for our freedom.

This scene was cut.

Bravo, Jacques Roux!

I like your monk's habit.

Nowadays it's best to preach

revolution wearing a robe.

Marat, come out

and lead the people!

They're waiting for you!

It must be now!

For the Revolution

which burns up everything...

...in blinding brightness will only

last as long as a lightning flash.

Monsieur de Sade is whipped.

Marat!

Today they need you, because

you are going to suffer for them.

They need you and they honour

the urn which holds your ashes.

But tomorrow they will come back and

smash that urn, and they will say:..

..."Marat?

Who was Marat?"

Marat!

Now I will tell you about this

revolution which I helped to make.

When I lay in the Bastille,

my ideas were already formed.

In prison I created in my mind monstrous

representatives of a dying class.

My imaginary giants committed

desecrations and tortures.

I committed them myself.

And like them...

...allowed myself to be bound...

...and beaten.

And even now...

...I should like to take this beauty here

who stands there so expectantly...

...and let her beat me...

...while I talk to you

about the Revolution.

At first,

I saw in the revolution...

...a chance for a tremendous

outburst of revenge...

...an orgy greater than

all my dreams.

But then I saw, when I sat

in the courtroom myself...

...not as I had been before

a prisoner, but as a judge...

...I saw that I could not bring myself to

give the victim to the hangman.

I did everything I could to release

them or let them escape.

I saw that I was not capable of murder, though

murder had been the sole proof of my existence...

...and now...

...the very thought

of it horrifies me.

In September, when I watched the

official sacking of Carmelite Convent...

...I had to bend over

in the courtyard and vomit...

...as I watched my prophecies

coming true...

...and women running by, holding in their

dripping hands the severed genitals of men.

And as the months went by...

...and the tumbrels rode

regularly to the scaffold...

...and the blade dropped and was

winched up and dropped again...

...all the meaning drained out of this revenge.

It was inhuman...

...it was dull...

...and curiously technocratic.

And now, Marat...

...now I see where your

revolution is leading.

To the withering

of the individual man...

...to the death of choice,

to uniformity...

...to deadly weakness in a state which has no

contact with individuals, but which is impregnable.

And so I turn away.

I am one of those

who has to be defeated...

...but out of my defeat I want to seize

everything I can get with my own strength.

I step out of my place...

...and I watch what happens,

without joining in...

...observing, noting down

all my observations...

...and all around me...

...stillness.

And when I vanish...

...I want all trace of my existence

to be wiped out.

Simonne.

Simonne?

Why is it getting so dark?

Give me a fresh cloth for my forehead.

Put a new towel round my shoulders.

I don't know if I am

freezing or burning to death.

Simonne.

Fetch Bas,

so I can dictate my call...

...my call to the people of France.

Simonne, where are all my papers?

I saw them only a moment ago.

- Why is it getting so dark?

- They're here, can't you see, Jean-Paul?

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