The Agony and the Ecstasy Page #7

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- Half-finished, yes.

Listen, he rode off in almost

hopeless cause.

Knowing that he might never

live to see the fresco finished.

Are you the only one in Rome

who doesn't know that?

Maybe. I don't pay

attention to these.

Is it a crime that he wants the

world to see it and to share...

in his pride? This fresco that

he's forced you to paint...

come day and night to watch,

defended against its critics...

this work of art which to him

had become a work of love.

- Of love?

- Yes, love!

We always come back to that,

don't we, Michelangelo?

This is one emotion which you

seem unable to comprehend.

Was it love which made him

break his stick across my back?

Love takes us in strange ways.

It's the language of the blood.

It's neither cold nor indifferent.

It's either agony or ecstasy,

sometimes both at once.

Everything you say may be true,

but it, it's come too late.

He's withdrawn the commission.

And can you think of no condition

under which he might restore it?

Even if it means swallowing

that mighty pride of yours?

- Tessina.

- Michelangelo...

make up your mind, once and for all.

Do you want to finish that ceiling?

More than my life.

Then finish it.

What do you want?

Holy Father, I ask you permission

to return to the Sistine...

and finish my work.

You ask something

that I cannot grant.

I can give you permission to return,

but not to complete the fresco.

This you will have to ask of my

enemies who will be in Rome.

In a few weeks. I doubt if they'll

be anxious for you to complete...

the decorations of my chapel.

Well, still I would like to try,

Holiness.

Laudable, Buonarroti, but foolish.

Why waste your talent?

They are come to Rome

as the Vandals came...

to burn and destroy everything

that reminds them of...

one they now call anti-pope

and anti-Christ.

Do you know what they did with the

bronze you made of me in Bologna?

No, Holiness.

Melted down and recast as a

cannon which they named...

the Julia in my honor.

Don't delude yourself they'll

hold your fresco sacred.

I don't think that, Holiness.

Very well.

You have my permission.

You see, my son, how well

we understand each other...

when you don't shout.

Holy Father, I know it's forbidden

to mention the subject but...

but the scaffolding

has to be rebuilt.

And I must have money

to pay for it.

I remember the Sultan paid you

in advance for that bridge...

you never built.

I'll accept that as a personal gift.

All the Sultan's money was returned,

every ducat of it.

- You returned it?

- Yes, Holiness.

A pity you were so generous

with the infidel.

I can give you nothing.

There is one way. I could sell

those marble blocks for your tomb.

They should bring a good price.

I'll try.

We can fall back on Perugia

with Lake Trasimeno to protect flank.

Master de Granacci.

Is a red hat still of any value?

Are there any still willing to

pay me for elevating them...

to the Sacred College?

Your Holiness already plans to

create three new cardinals.

Yes, to feed the troops.

Yes, Holiness.

Well, instead of three, we'll

create four new cardinals.

Three red hats will keep

the army in bread.

A fourth can buy paint

for Michelangelo.

Your Holiness,

do we continue the retreat?

We'll fight wherever we can,

even to the gates of Rome itself.

Master.

Is that truly how you see Him,

my son?

Yes, Holy Father.

Not angry, not vengeful.

But like that, strong,

benign, loving.

He knows anger too.

But the act of creation

is an act of love.

You have what I need in life,

my son...

if you can picture Him like that.

I am grateful for His gift to me.

The most perfect of gifts.

If I had to choose

my life over again.

I would first choose

to be an artist.

What you have painted there,

my son...

is not a portrait of God.

It's a proof of faith.

I hadn't thought that faith

needed proof.

Not if you're a saint,

or an artist.

I am a merely Pope.

I thank you.

The new-made Adam.

And this is how you see man?

Noble, beautiful, unafraid?

How else could I see him?

As he is.

Corrupt and evil.

Hands dripping of blood,

destined for damnation.

Your painting's beautiful,

but false.

I cannot change my conception.

You taught me not to waste my time

trying to change your conceptions.

How did you arrive at this?

My thought. My idea for the

panel was that Man's evil.

He learned from himself,

not from God.

Ah, yes.

I wanted to paint Man as

he was first created.

Innocent.

Still free of sin.

Grateful for the gift of life.

The gift of life.

Recently I have prayed for the

gift of death.

But like most my prayers,

it went unheard.

God sometimes appears to be deaf.

Perhaps I should

have been an artist.

Then He would have listened to me,

as appears to have listened to you.

You make a better priest than

I do, Michelangelo.

Yet I have tried to serve Him

in the only way I know.

If I could not do so as His priest,

I would do so as His soldier.

And even in that I have failed.

Now they will hunt

me out of Rome.

And the kings will pick the

bones of Mother Church.

Then even this they will destroy

because I have failed.

I am sorry for that, my son.

It's a terrible thing to strive

for a lifetime.

And come to the final realization

that you have failed.

- Well?

- The Pope is making a confession.

- This last attack.

- You've heard the news?

Everything we have prayed

for is coming to pass to late.

The Spaniards are marching

north from Naples to our aid.

The Swiss are ready to move

south against Milan.

Even young King Harry of

England has announced.

His support of the Pope.

Too late.

- All too late!

- And when they hear he's stricken?

Our new allies? They'll turn back.

Without a leader...

without Julius,

there is no alliance.

Julius is the alliance,

its heart and soul.

- They will turn back.

- And then?

The French and Germans will

take Rome and elect a new Pope.

Who will be a mere

chaplain to the kings.

It's you and the others that called

him a freebooter, a butcher...

a conqueror.

You've never understood him.

He took up the sword to build

a strong, independent Church.

With power to keep peace

among the ambitious kings.

This was the heart of his policy.

It's what he lived for...

and what he's dying for.

Gentlemen, we should be

considering our places of exile.

Holy Father.

I have come to take my

leave of Your Holiness.

- Leave?

- Yes, Holiness.

You were right. It's useless

to go on with the ceiling.

I am returning to Florence.

Wait!

You dare!

You dare leave your work

without my permission!

Then I ask permission

of Your Holiness.

It is refused. Do you hear?

It is refused!

You will complete your work!

Why should I?

You haven't completed yours.

Holy Father.

Insolence!

Then why don't you take a

stick to me? You did before.

I will!

And I will give you your choice!

You will return to the Sistine

Chapel or you will go to a dungeon!

My son!

Yes, Holy Father.

What are you doing here?

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