Original subtitles

Tordesillas, the year of Our Lord 1554.

She is 74 years old

and has been locked up in this castle for almost half a century.

She has been successively betrayed by her father,

by her husband and by her son.

Daughter of the Catholic Monarchs,

wife of Philip of Habsburg, mother of the Emperor Charles V,

queen in her own right of Castile and Aragon.

They call her

Joan the Mad.

When I close my eyes, he approaches me.

I feel his skin beneath my fingertips.

His voice flows into my ears.

I perceive the odor ofhis armpits.

He arouses my desire.

I do not fear death.

No matter what, it will take me to Philip.

JOAN THE MAD

Lady Elvira.

We're spending the night here.

Laredo is only a few hours away.

- Anything else, Captain? - Whatever Her Majesty orders.

Alvar!

May I still call you Alvar?

Of course, Princess.

You may still call meJoan.

Look.

You gave it to me, remember?

I'll never forget our happy childhood days.

They're taking me to be wed, Alvar.

In Flanders.

All my blessings.

What are you thinking, daughter?

This time tomorrow, I'll be on my way to Flanders.

And far from you.

It's God's will.

And yours too.

That is so.

The sovereign of Castile,

Queen Isabella the Catholic,

has set out, accompanied by her children.

They are all there,

Princess Isabella, John, Catherine and Maria,

to accompany their sisterJoan

as she sets out on her greatjourney to Flanders.

Laredo, August, 1496.

Be a good girl, Catherine.

I'll be thinking about you.

God chose to make me Queen of Castile.

My people have crossed the seas in search of another world.

Yet the sea is still a mystery to me.

I am too old to undertake a voyage.

So you will never come to see me.

My duty is to your father and to Castile,

as your duty will be to Philip of Habsburg,

to Burgundy and to Flanders.

I shall obey you, Mother.

I know that my life, like yours, requires greater endeavor

than my humble person can offer.

That is so.

My prayer book.

I got it from my mother.

You were born a princess and must accept it.

It is true that your marriage to Philip is for political reasons,

but some happiness is also possible.

No one, except God,

possesses the power and knowledge of what is to come.

Did you know Father before you married him?

I married Ferdinand for love.

How will I know if I love Philip?

With time.

Put it there. Be careful.

With time.

Perhaps you will never know.

If that is so,

take consolation in living in sanctity with a man.

And if you're asked,

answer as I do, that you married him for love.

It is an enormous task.

At times,

a painful and terrible task.

Don't cry, child.

You'll soon have a husband.

Soon, my princess,

you'll be a woman and you'll dream of paradise.

Ready.

Raise your bows.

Take aim.

Now!

The Spanish fleet arrived yesterday

in Ostende, Sire.

- How is the princess? - Princess Joan

is in good health.

She is anxious to meet you. Tomorrow morning

- she will reach Brussels. - Lord de Veyre,

how soon can we be in Brussels?

With a change of horses, we can be in the palace

tomorrow evening, Sire.

My horse!

Double formation!

Present arms!

Brigitte de la Motte.

Carlota de Foix.

In�s de Bravante.

The letter, Madam.

The letter.

"I have the honor to address

the Archduke of Austria and Duke of Burgundy and Bravante,

and to wish you every blessing on behalf of my beloved parents,

the monarchs of Castile and Aragon.

I also wish to express my joy and satisfaction

on establishing between our kingdoms

an eternal union blessed by the Pope and the Church."

The princess and I wish to be married immediately.

Who must give us the blessing?

Sire, it is the Bishop of Malinas who is to bless this union,

but that will be, God willing, a week from now.

The ceremony will take place on that day as planned,

but the princess and I wish to celebrate it in privacy, now.

Do you agree, Princess?

Your blessing, Father.

Kneel down.

May the Lord God

confirm your mutual consent expressed before the Church.

What God has joined let no man pull asunder.

We shall see you at the official ceremony within a week.

What?

Don't leave.

Please.

Brigitte, In�s.

Brigitte, In�s! Come here!

The old folk say that a lass pulls more than a rope.

But they forget one thing.

You have to adorn the lass.

Now, my princess, take a little turn around.

Just a few steps.

If you don't close your legs, the whole court will laugh.

Leave us.

Are all lovers like him, Aida?

No, my child, no.

Tonight I'll paint your nipples and your lips with henna.

I want you to drive him mad.

October 1497.

Death has begun to trace out its plans

by stealing the life ofJohn,

the firstborn of the Catholic Monarchs.

Fate will still have to cut short another four lives

before making Joan into the heiress to the crown of Castile.

It's a girl!

Meanwhile, at the court in Brussels,

life was forcing its way through,

thanks toJoan's abundant fertility.

Your daughter.

She will be called Eleanor.

Majesty.

Sire, it was a very easy birth, and very beautiful.

Joan, are you there?

She's a glutton.

She wants to devour me.

You're the only princess who breast-feeds her children.

- Why do you insist? - I like it.

And so does Eleanor.

It helps ease the pain in my breasts.

There are other ways to ease that pain.

I will not be milked like a cow.

My daughter is alive and I want to feed her with my own blood.

Your words and your behavior are surprising everyone.

Don't get dressed.

Lord de Veyre received a letter from my father. I have to see him.

Let him wait.

He has told me there is important news

regarding our friends from France.

Your husband has duties which require his attention, Madam.

My husband's first duty is to make me happy.

I am full.

You are mad.

Joan, it is barely a month since you gave birth.

We mustn't abandon ourselves to such transports.

Despite everything,

the days and months passed happily in the palace.

Excuse me.

- Yes, Madam? - An indisposition.

Accompany her. You go too.

It is nothing, Sire.

- Madam, do you feel well? - Yes, very well.

The poor man shits, the rich man too.

- What can ail her? - I don't know.

Is anything wrong, Madam?

How pregnant is she?

Eight months.

She wouldn't have it here and now?

Her Highness is like a cow.

Say something, Madam, please.

Come in.

A ribbon.

October 1500.

The newborn would become, with time,

the glorious Emperor Charles I of Spain and Vof Germany.

Give the word.

Lady Elvira!

Lady Elvira!

The hand of death would soon strike down Queen Isabella,

on November 24, 1504.

Send the swiftest horseman you have

to carry the news to Flanders.

I hear there is an old friendship between you and Princess Joan.

My father was her Latin teacher. I often played with the princess.

Perhaps the news will be less painful coming from your lips.

How many days will it take you to reach Brussels?

I'll ride day and night.

"Because of the great heat

"Because of the great heat

and because the windows were closed,

her dress was undone

and her breasts were revealed like two apples from Paradise."

A woman and a tipple by the nipple.

Raise your head, Madam.

Look a little longer in this direction. Like that.

What are they laughing at?

Aida is competing with you, Sir.

- I do not understand, Madam. - Ask In�s de Bravante.

- Why are you laughing, Lady In�s? - I'm being tickled.

Ask her who tickles her at night.

Which fortunate gentleman tickles you at night?

Does he make you laugh like that?

What a cheek! How dare you?

My breast guards that secret jealously.

Is it the breast you're painting so carefully

which guards your secrets?

Without the necklace.

- It's better with the pink dress. - I hate pink.

It's my lord Philip who hates pink.

"And turning the other way,

ashamed that he could be seen by Diafebus,

unable to pronounce another word, he said: I love."

A double step.

Right, left.

Madam.

A messenger has arrived from Spain.

Welcome, Captain.

Speak. What has happened in Castile?

Castile has been orphaned.

Lord de Veyre.

Proclaim court mourning.

"Thank you" is little for your efforts, Captain.

Thank you.

Where is Philip?

The archduke wasn't feeling well.

He went out for air a moment ago.

He'll be in the hunting lodge.

Do you know what this news means?

You and the archduke are now the monarchs of Castile.

Make way for Princess Joan!

Make way for the archduchess!

What is happening?

They're guarding the palace, as usual.

Restrain that dog!

You want it to attack me?

Where is the archduke?

Lord de Veyre,

where is the archduke?

It would be best if you did not know, Madam.

Traitor!

Traitor!

Traitor! Traitor!

Monster!

- Son of a bitch! - Mind your tongue!

You're talking like a slut, and I won't be humiliated.

It is I who have been humiliated! I who have been betrayed!

I feel dirty.

Soiled!

Contaminated!

Mad.

You're mad.

Mad!

Always mad!

It must be madness

to love someone as despicable as you!

Who was that?

I have to know who that whore is.

Sire.

I shall give you the news.

Queen Isabella is dead.

The archduchess is now Queen Joan of Castile,

and you are consort.

My mother is dead!

My husband is unfaithful!

My mother is dead!

My husband is unfaithful!

My mother is dead!

My husband is unfaithful!

My mother is dead!

None of this is true.

My imagination!

Whims.

Whims ofJoan the Mad, because I am mad.

I'm mad, am I not?

Yes, I am mad.

Mad, mad, mad!

I'm mad! I'm mad!

Mad!

In�s, come here.

Turn round.

Hold this whore.

- Madam, please... - Hold her!

Scissors.

- Madam... - I said I want scissors.

Do not commit an injustice.

What happened?

The queen is suspicious.

She thinks that... And with her own hands...

Why did you do it?

I hate everything that comes between your body and mine,

even the air.

Your behavior is scandalous.

I am sovereign of Burgundy and I've made you king of Castile.

But I also want to be your wife,

- your woman and your whore. - Am I to be compelled?

I'm more powerful than you, and craftier.

And more shameless, to speak to me in that tone.

It isn't shamelessness.

It's passion.

Uncontrollable passion.

With reason it's rumored that you are mad.

Mad, because I love you to the point of madness?

Mad, because I want you to be mine?

Mad,

because I don't want you going to another for what I have in abundance?

Mad, because I aspire to engender

and bear your children?

Mad...

Mad with love.

Is that madness?

Joan and Philip traveled to Spain

to be proclaimed sovereigns of Castile.

The people gave an enthusiastic welcome

to the young monarchs.

Look at her.

She's holding him so tightly it's like she wanted to hurt him.

Untimely bouts of crying, groundless fits of rage,

continuous eccentricities.

She chooses

the ugliest ladies-in-waiting. You know why?

Yes, the king is an inveterate womanizer,

unworthy of the love the queen bears him.

And unworthy of occupying the throne of Castile.

Philip wants to be rid of a jealous wife

and also be rid of one who is queen of Castile.

Don't pretend you don't know.

Admiral Henr�quez.

I want you to love Philip as if he too were Castilian.

I want the people to be happy with their king.

The people love you and will love what you love.

I am a doctor, and I can tell you.

- She is not mad. - The people think otherwise.

They don't give the same meaning to the word "mad" as you do.

Speak to those who have lived with her in Flanders.

They'll tell you what they've seen and heard.

We have visitors. Honest people.

Leave this table free.

Your turn.

A gentleman has requested your services.

Very well.

Welcome.

She pleases you?

Her name is Aixa.

Would you like to see her close up?

What for?

It's a beautiful body.

The body of a woman who risks her life every night

coming to dance here.

She risks her life?

- Why? - For money.

She risks her life so as not to die,

to go on living.

Don't you know the Moors are persecuted?

She's a Moor?

A king's daughter.

Would you like to see all of it?

He's been so long. What if something has happened?

- Your worries are unfounded. - He's been gone for five hours.

The king forgets everything when he goes hunting.

Hunting!

You think he's hunting?

Undoubtedly.

- Elvira. - Madam.

Philip is unfaithful.

You like tormenting yourself.

You know that the king has often betrayed me.

Say you won't scold me,

and I'll tell you what I've recently learned.

Speak, Madam.

No, it isn't him.

You were saying?

The king goes out every afternoon,

and he doesn't come back for at least three hours.

I had my page Hern�n follow him.

Where did the king go?

You will never guess.

He went to a mansion known to be a place of sin.

Are you sure it was the king?

Yes, yes, yes!

Would to God I were mistaken, Elvira!

Madam, think. There can only be the lowest of women in that place.

And what? They're still women like us, aren't they?

Don't they have the same between their legs as we do?

He's here!

He's here!

I was worried.

Joan, please.

- Tell me if you're unfaithful. - What do you mean?

I know you visit a house of ill repute.

Speak.

Answer me. At least take the trouble to lie.

It's impossible for us to live in peace.

Tell me you're faithful.

Trust your husband.

Tell me you're faithful.

- Tell me and I'll believe you. - My dearJoan,

you worry me.

You ask too much of me with your rages.

I want to be yours.

I want to love you even if you loathe me.

Whatever I say?

Whatever you say.

Your Flemish gentleman.

He tries to conceal who he is, but his appearance gives him away.

Dress as what you are.

Make him dream of heaven, but don't grant it to him.

If I am heaven, how can I refuse it to him? He's relentless.

- Just a little piece. - This little piece.

- In any case, don't kiss him. - Not as I kiss you.

Hell of Satan and Beelzebub,