Original subtitles

Salle Pleyel! Quickly!

Thanks.

-Mister Chopin is here. -You are marvellous.

Here he is, the most talented of my friends.

You made it. How are you?

Fine.

-Fritz. -Good afternoon.

-You thought I wouldn't come? -Last time, you said

that at grand concerts, the crowd doesn't listen.

They only come to stare.

And that it was your last one.

This one is.

Attention!

Get ready. We are about to begin.

Ladies and gentlemen,

for the first time in history, the greatest pianists on earth

will perform together variations on the march

from "The Puritans" by Vincenzo Bellini. "Hexameron"!

You'd rather leave, wouldn't you?

No. Why?

Too many people. I play too softly.

Just close your eyes. It's 500 francs for a few minutes.

You needn't look at them.

Franz Liszt!

I can earn money by teaching.

And Frederic Chopin!

And now...

let the music play!

The marquis, furious, rips his hair out.

He runs towards the fence, wanting to tear it down,

and yells, "You wretched bulldog!

What on earth happened?" The bulldog replies...

"No idea."

Frederic!

Countess Potocka.

Long live Poland.

We met at the concert in Vienna. Do you remember?

How could I not?

No one had ever moved me so. Until tonight.

You do exaggerate, though in the most delightful way.

You are divine.

Your voice surpasses any soprano in the world.

You have the gift of awakening every one of my senses.

Classic Liszt.

My friend has a creature between his legs,

which lacks memory and sense, yet prompts most of his lines.

Wait!

I feel the fair sex is underrepresented among us tonight.

It's not to my liking. Ladies...

Such lovely creatures!

Let me invite you to a wonderful soiree,

a delightful night included.

Come in, please!

-Fritz, good evening. -Company, forward march!

Is it a fly?

It's a fly.

A fly!

Sound the alarm! A barbarian!

Infernal bohemian, rascal! How dare you chase me off...

you lout?

Where is it?

Over there!

Fritz.

Wait...

Is that...?

Could it be...?

Yes...

This is Eden.

It's paradise.

My God, what a beautiful place!

The air is so sweet.

If this is heaven for the blessed, I can die today.

How marvellous.

Such warmth and bliss.

I feel it in every one of my legs.

Even though I walk

through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil.

I shall lay my eggs here.

It bit me!

Good evening.

-I'll leave you to it. -Thank you.

There are no glasses left, but here is a lovely cup.

-Golden, no less. -Thank you.

Fritz, we're leaving.

Goodbye.

It's hot.

Drink it.

-It makes me suffocate. -Come on. I must rush to the hospital.

-A great doctor, they say. -Just drink.

You're in a hurry, right? Then go.

I have finished. Are you satisfied?

I never am.

Thank you.

Have a good day.

No more.

How many lessons do you have today?

Three.

Five.

Seven.

You were supposed to work less.

-We talked about this. -How can I?

You've been paying my rent for three months.

I have to work.

Mister Chopin!

You played the first voice very well.

And the tone was delightful.

You always say that about the tone.

-It means nothing. -It means everything.

I'd like to play something else.

Please do.

No!

It took me two weeks to master it.

I had asked you not to play my works.

You are not ready.

It's not enough to reproduce the melody.

Dear Charlotte,

you are extraordinary. You play like an angel.

Still, I find it disconcerting. You understand, don't you?

At home, please practise calmly,

without haste.

I'll see you on Saturday.

Please pass on my regards to your parents.

Let's stop here, Miss Stirling.

Good...

though you needn't hasten so. Too much superfluous emotion.

Keep your mouth relaxed and don't bite your lips.

Let's move on to Fantasia...

by Hummel. Here.

Please proceed.

Let's pause.

These two passages should be more distinct.

First, played with lightness and delicacy,

then more connected, yet with a crescendo.

Let's continue.

Who is the host?

I told you, it's a surprise.

I don't like surprises. I need to know.

What if I joke about wives while he's just been widowed?

Don't worry. He's a bachelor.

A bachelor?

Is the party at the hospital?

It's not quite a party, Fritz.

-I'm not going anywhere. -You have to.

Well? Have you found anything of interest?

All right.

Now cough and spit, please.

Harder.

You have tuberculosis.

You have tuberculosis.

Coughing up blood indicates a pleural perforation.

This is an advanced stage of the disease.

You have a few years left to live.

How many?

"A few" means anywhere from two to nine.

I don't know.

Let me be clear.

I cannot cure you.

Nowadays, no one in the world can.

We can only alleviate the symptoms.

I'll prescribe medication to help you cope with what is to come.

-What is to come? -Tuberculosis develops in stages.

At first, you'll cough up blood.

Then, you'll experience increasing haemorrhages,

which may last for two weeks.

There will also be moments of respite.

Yet, this will only be an illusion of health.

Over time...

your whole body will weaken.

Especially your legs will swell, mostly towards the end.

Towards the end?

Do you have children?

Not that I know of.

If you wish to have children, do not delay it.

Tuberculosis weakens a man's strength.

Over time, you'll suffer from impotence.

Eventually, you'll become sterile.

You must sleep a lot and avoid crowds.

Any cold could kill you.

It would be best to leave Paris.

Fresh air will slow down the disease.

Get more sun.

Sun, sun...

All right.

I'll go to the country

and take everything you prescribe.

Thank you.

Your friend said your sister had had tuberculosis.

Yes. Emilia passed away at 15.

So you know what it is like.

Not a word to anyone.

Mr Chopin, His Majesty is concerned.

Yes, I know.

Thank you.

At last!

Your Majesty, please pardon my delay.

The streets are full to bursting.

Go on, play, Chopin. Everyone is waiting.

Chopin!

Your music is the finest gift I could have wished for.

Happy birthday, Your Majesty.

How did you know I adored that etude?

I am the King. I cannot cry.

If my humble efforts bring you joy, I could ask for nothing more.

You mustn't hide behind such courtesies.

I am fond of you.

You know this. Your music is truly beautiful.

I have something for you as well.

A passport.

Your Majesty.

Good evening.

I couldn't help myself.

Congratulations.

You are now a true French citizen.

A French genius.

-My subject. -Of Polish origin.

With all due respect, Your Majesty,

I have left Poland, but Poland will never leave me.

Cholera!

Stay indoors!

Cholera! Stay indoors!

Where would I go, sir?

Under a bridge?

I'm getting married in a month.

Congratulations. Do you love each other?

Of course!

Look what I've learned for Vincent.

-Not bad, right? -Well done!

Why haven't you gone away?

They say gravediggers jump on the corpses to bury more of them.

Let's shut the window, or the plague may get in.

I hear musicians are immune to cholera.

You're terribly silly, sir.

I couldn't agree more.

The truth is, I'd rather be alone.

You have so many tailcoats.

Everyone loves you, especially women.

You enjoy your work. Your life is good.

You must be very happy. We'd be so sorry if you died.

Who would be sorry?

Me. You too, right?

I'll bring this back the day after tomorrow.

Please stay. I'll make some tea.

You don't even know how to.

My fiance is waiting.

See you soon, sir.

Stop playing! Let us live!

Help.

Help!

Someone help him!

A doctor!

Damn it!

-Stop yelling! -This man is alive.

Just a moment.

We'll help you.

There's a living man!

He is alive!

I've just seen he is!

You must help him!

What are you doing?

-Take care of him! -Do it yourself!

We're an hour from the cemetery.

I have bodies to collect in two districts.

He'll be dead by then.

If you value your life, put on a mask.

Could you please do me a favour?

Breakfast!

We've already had breakfast.

Frederic!

Son, what are you doing here?

Ludwika!

Good morning.

-Good morning, Father. -What brings you here?

Welcome, Son.

So good to see you.

-Come! -Sit with us.

You show up after five years. Son, I'm not a fool.

-Are you ill? What's the matter? -Nothing.

I just wanted to see you. I miss you.

-Are you all alone there? -No, Mother.

I have two thousand friends in Paris. I'm not alone.

Yes, you are. That's why you need so many friends.

You have to start a family.

Wonderful idea.

I'll order one in Paris.

With two children?

Or four?

A widow or a virgin?

Virgins cost more.

You need to start a family.

I have tried.

I really have.

Do you prefer men?

That's not it. I don't know how to fall in love.

I feel nothing.

I just can't.

At first, I didn't love your father.

Do you now?

Of course I do. What a question!

Yet, I had to grow to love him.

You'll grow, too. Look around.

Find someone you like and respect.

I don't want it that way.

Music isn't enough.

You don't realise it now, being admired, but one day you'll see.

It's not enough to make a life.

It's the only life I know.

I wish you hadn't wanted me to only play since I was six.

You wanted it yourself.

My son...

It'll be all right, trust me.

Departure for Paris!

Your visit is quite a surprise. Do you remember?

You played here when you were six, ten, twelve...

DRESDEN, GERMANY

And two years later. I remember all the concerts.

So do I. I feel like I've come home.

Then you must play something.

Mother, let him finish.

Open the lid.

Marysia will kill you for not waiting for her.

I've eaten enough. I can play.

Marysia doesn't know you're here.

All she cares about is paints.

She's painting out there in the field.

Please play.

I have a horrible toothache today.

I'll play quietly.

I'm sorry.

The clouds came and I had to wait for the sun.

Frederic?

The left one.

My turn.

-No. -Yes.

-Yes? -Yes.

Jesus!

Don't worry.

My mother knows I've always been in love with you.

Have you?

Remember your graduation party?

Will you marry me?

What?

Will you marry me?

The best light for Marysia's studio is there.

We need canvases, easels, and paints.

Note that down. My fiancee paints superbly.

Our bedroom.

A tasteful bed from Pires, with a canopy.

Here it is!

A perfect nursery!

With two little beds.

And perhaps little desks.

Tiny ones, like for dolls. Wonderful!

By the time these children are old enough to use them,

it'll be at least ten years.

I'll be gone by then.

They'll have a memento of their father.

-Fantastic. I'll take it. -Congratulations.

The price, Fritz.

-You haven't asked the price. -Indeed.

-What's the price? -6,000 francs per year.

That seems reasonable. Deal done.

No!

Are you mad?

You can barely make ends meet as it is.

You simply need to marry.

Have you ever been in love?

I suppose not.

Excuse me, has Chopin arrived yet?

Chopin?

-Which one is he? -The one with the big nose.

That Pole?

Poor fellow!

Stateless, familyless, penniless,

he's probably starving.

Have you ever seen a starving man wear gloves worth 30 francs?

Besides,

why on earth did he insult the Tsar?

He got expelled from Poland? He must have deserved it.

A narcissist. He only loves himself.

Your attention, please.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Baron James de Rothschild, his wife,

and their daughter Charlotte.

Mister Chopin,

after attending your concert

I couldn't eat or sleep for at least a week.

Might I invite you to tea?

After you gave up the à rard pianos, their prices dropped.

-Ã rard is distraught. -Excuse me.

Sir?

Are you all right?

Fritz!

Is everything all right?

I'm going.

What are you doing?

Maestro, not now.

Don't give me orders.

-Baron Rotschild. -Yes?

What shall I play for you?

Please improvise...

Napoleon at Waterloo.

Perfect.

I beg your pardon.

Apparently, Napoleon was asleep when Wellington attacked.

Fall back!

Retreat!

Play some Chopin at last!

Mister Chopin.

Mister Chopin.

Mister Chopin,

the Baron thanks you.

Thank you.

Why don't you sleep, Jan?

Come on, Fritz.

Easy now.

Fritz?

Frederic!

Frederic.

Damn, my lessons.

We've cancelled them.

-Are you mad? -Calm down.

You've had to go away to take care of family matters.

Lie down and rest.

Your bath is ready.

What's going on?

Fritz, you've been sleeping for five days.

Wanted to kill yourself?

For a month, you've been out every night.

Is he scared of getting married?

This month I've earned more than last year.

At what cost?

You needn't be a monkey at parties. You hate those people.

-What if I like them? -You don't.

-Take this. -What is it?

Opium. You haven't tried it yet.

It relieves pain and thins mucus in the bronchi.

The Body of Christ.

Take it.

Fritz!

I'm going to have a bath.

Goodness!

Up you go.

Who are you?

-Doc is upset today. -Stop fooling around.

I'm moving out.

I want to finally live with my wife. I have one.

You just make me forget about it.

Let someone else carry you up and give you your medication.

A genius that needs admiration more than medicine?

Get another court physician.

-Or treat yourself with music! -Jan!

Sorry.

I haven't played for five days?

Good afternoon.

Pierre!

Mister Chopin?

-Good afternoon. -I beg you, tell me

there's some sorbet left.

I've been dreaming of it for ages.

Peach and pear, was it?

No. Lemon.

Very well.

Here is your lemon sorbet.

I am dead.

A foolish mistake, Mister Chopin.

Mister Chopin is dead.

He is dead.

Touch me.

Go on.

Perhaps I am a ghost.

Enjoy your dessert, sir.

And now,

I have been resurrected and shall eat my sorbet.

After I pick them up from the station,

we'll have dinner. She, her mother and me.

But we'll visit you. They're eager to meet you.

Everything's in place already.

Is the mother as remarkable as her daughter?

Do you know the Italian for mother-in-law?

What is it like, having children?

Having children?

If yours take after you, they'll be quite melancholic.

Shall we?

I'll play something for you.

My father raised rabbits.

Not so different from raising children.

They eat, shit, and sleep.

And you can cuddle them.

Now, listen.

That's the kind of thing on my mind.

What do you think?

Need a hammer?

As for children, since they seem all you care about,

it's the simplest love in the world.

Because it never ends.

You love them, they love you back,

and everyone is happy.

Is that new?

Yes.

What is it? It's unclear.

You're utterly mad.

-Is that measure a joke? -It's my new scherzo.

Couldn't you write a normal accompaniment?

You always scatter the notes,

just to make me break my fingers.

I don't scatter them.

I arrange them.

Listen.

-It's them. -I'll go out the back.

I'll learn to play it.

-No! It's not finished. -Don't worry.

I'll give it back.

Madam...

Where is Marysia?

May I come in?

Has something happened?

No, nothing's happened.

You can't imagine my relief

when it turned out the papers were mistaken.

This is for you.

Aren't you curious what it is?

Where is she?

In Roztocze, at the Skarbek estate.

A month ago, she married...

Józef Skarbek.

I wanted to tell you...

in person.

Aren't they lovely and warm?

Maria has embroidered them herself.

But, we...

We've been exchanging letters.

We love each other. I love her.

It's not her fault.

I'm sorry.

I warned you. Our family...

My daughter needs a strong and healthy husband.

What a beautiful flat.

Farewell.

It seems different, but it's just as in Warsaw.

-Boring! -I sometimes miss Poland.

-And you? -What's he saying?

He's droning on about Poland again.

Come on. Drink it.

It's here.

Jan!

-Jan! -We're waiting.

-Jan! -Come down!

Jan!

Good morning, madam.

May we take your husband away?

Beautiful, aren't they?

White chamois leather.

Too stain-prone.

And too expensive. I have a family to feed.

You're as pragmatic as ever.

I'll take 30 pairs.

Good morning.

What do you think?

I'll take three bottles.

Four. Or five.

-And this, too. -Hurry up, Fritz.

Please.

And this.

No, Fritz!

Get up, Julian.

For you. You'll look decent at last.

-Exquisite, isn't it? -What is it?

Can't you see?

No.

Nor can I.

But I need it.

I hope you're happy.

Very much so.

5 Tronchet Street.

Violets, already!

I'll be right back.

Watch out!

Get out of the way, you'll get killed!

What are you doing?

He's a better Liszt than you.

-Forgive me. -It wasn't that bad.

-That's very amusing. -It was perfect, Fritz.

-Why are you so sad? -Me?

I admire you.

That must be exhausting.

-What? -Pretending must be exhausting.

Wouldn't you rather be left alone?

Excuse me.

Who is that shrew?

Her?

George Sand. A great writer.

Don't say you don't know her?

Ask them to leave, will you?

-Are you serious? -I need sleep. Lessons tomorrow.

Fritz.

Silence.

Silence, please!

Please excuse me, but the party is over.

That's a request.

Frederic asked me not to keep you.

So I'm not keeping you.

We can finally talk in peace.

Shall I get you a drink?

In Majorca, there's sun all year round.

You can pick oranges straight from the trees, like apples.

This will be the best winter of your life.

I'll still be unwell.

No.

You'll recover, you'll see.

You smell of violets.

Thank you.

You were right.

Here are Adam and Eve arriving in paradise.

Let's search for an apple tree and a serpent.

MAJORCA, SPAIN

Shall we sail to Africa?

We might even stay there forever.

Do you lack anything?

Money.

You can compose anywhere

-and send your works by post. -I need an instrument.

It'll be here any day now.

I earn money from lessons

and soirees.

I understand.

What?

You can't live away from Paris,

without the concerts you adore, without your audience,

which can't focus on music for more than a minute...

yet will applaud as long as the press dubs you a genius.

You're right. It would be a shame to give that up.

Let's go back.

Fine.

To hell with Paris.

To hell with Paris?

F...k Paris!

-F...k Paris? -F...k Paris!

Mister Chopin?

Yes?

On behalf of Her Majesty the Queen of Spain

and the municipal authorities, I must ask you to leave our city.

Is this an act?

These are our laws.

I've been informed Mr Chopin has tuberculosis.

In Spain, it is regarded as a plague, a threat to the community.

You must leave the city.

Do you understand?

-What's he saying? -They want to throw us out.

You must stay at least five miles from any town.

Good day.

That's bullshit.

Tuberculosis is a hereditary disease!

Imbeciles!

Do you know what that means?

It can't be contagious!

Stop it!

Stop it!

Thank you.

We have the key.

It's an abandoned monastery.

At least we have a place to stay.

Just you and me.

And a few confessionals.

I'm soaked.

It's so silent.

So silent!

Unbelievable.

I'd like to die in your arms.

I promise.

I love you.

The rain will stop, and you'll be well.

I like it when it rains and it's cold.

You're somewhere else. What's wrong?

Everything's fine.

Frederic...

I can't live if I can't play.

You're wallowing in self-pity.

This way, please.

For heaven's sake, be careful.

Careful!

Easy. Be gentle.

Perfect.

Impossible.

-They refuse. -Did you say we'd pay any price?

I did.

He has to leave.

I beg you, think of something.

Please.

They're here!

It's nearly over.

Good afternoon, Captain.

-Is he infected? -It's just bronchitis.

This is Frederic Chopin.

So what?

I'll pay 500 francs.

Per person.

No! Sit down!

I can't breath.

I shouldn't exist.

I should never have existed.

You should leave me and live your life.

I'm losing.

You've left your keys!

Excuse me, madam,

I may have left my heart at your place.

Oh, I've fried it up with eggs.

Take your pills at noon

-with plenty of water. -Certainly.

Mister Chopin?

Mister MatuszyÅ,,ski is asking for you.

You must hurry.

It's your fault. You infected him.

And mine, for letting him stay with you.

I was always alone in this house.

He was constantly at your beck and call,

whenever you coughed, had the runs, or couldn't iron a shirt.

We could never take a holiday.

You've stolen my family,

the children I will never have.

Because Frederic needed care.

Who would have carried you up the stairs if not him?

You gave him nothing in return but tuberculosis.

You give nothing to anyone.

Just death.

I'll play for you.

No.

Have you heard the one...

about the marquis at the dog races?

Then listen.

The marquis is watching the greyhounds,

and doesn't know which to pick, with only 100 francs left.

Suddenly, up to the fence comes...

an old bulldog.

"Sir, bet on me.

I'll win."

"You are a bulldog.

You don't stand a chance."

"I've never lost before.

Just look at the odds on me winning.

If you bet a hundred on one of those skeletons,

you might get 140 back. If you bet on me,

you'll win a hundred thousand. You'll be filthy rich."

The marquis calculated,

multiplied, and placed his bet.

Bang! The starting gun fires...

The greyhounds take off,

while our bulldog...

ambles along without much effort.

"Bulldog? Why so slow?"

"Relax. You'll see near the finish line."

They reach the last turn.

The three greyhounds have crossed the line...

"Monsieur Bulldog...

Bulldog,

you cursed dog,

what's happened?"

"No idea."

Good afternoon. I'm Carl Filtsch.

I'd like to become your student.

That's very well...

but I don't teach children.

Mister Liszt sends you this.

"You had better kill him on the spot.

He plays so well that in ten years,

there will be no work left for us."

I have no availability at present.

How about you? Do you want to become a singer?

My brother Joseph is mute, but he can hear.

I'm sorry.

No!

Don't try to impress me.

Do you think you can start your training with my works?

Play something else.

I don't have a sheet music.

Can't you play anything else?

Not so well.

Not so well...

It's a pity.

Too bad.

That's all.

Can I play my own piece?

Go ahead.

That's enough.

How long have you been playing?

Good.

Let's try...

this.

The left hand works well. The right one plays mechanically

while it should sing.

The metronome lays the foundation for the left hand.

The right hand can move freely.

Let's try again.

No.

That's not right.

Either you play like a machine, or you lose control.

Try to divide your attention.

The left hand is constant, the right one tells a story.

I'm sorry. I'll practise more.

Don't play on the keyboard.

Play in your head.

Try not to hear,

like Beethoven.

Imagination means more than execution.

Peace of mind...

Only the head works.

Close your eyes.

Yes! Like this, Carl.

Thank you.

You need to eat more.

You do.

Do you mind them eating with us?

No. We waste way too much food anyway.

Couldn't you be more discreet?

He's here because we have a lesson today.

Just as every day.

Is that a problem?

None.

Why?

I told you not to smoke at the table.

I'm sorry.

That was magnificent, as always.

Your Majesty, may I present an exceptional talent?

A remarkable pianist and composer. No one plays like him.

Except for me.

-Why not? -Thank you.

Go ahead.

I didn't know you had a son.

He's not my son. He's my student.

Carl Filtsch, from Transylvania.

He could very well be your son. He's very talented.

He is better than me.

I never thought I'd say that about anyone.

Your Majesty, may I kindly ask you to keep him in mind?

Even if I am no longer here.

No longer here?

Are you leaving us?

It seems the people want to overthrow me.

Though I flatter them most shamelessly.

Just listen to this dreadful Marseillaise

that I have allowed to be sung in my palace.

I will probably have to flee as well.

That's right.

To leave, like your maestro.

Or I'll get killed.

You will have all of Paris to yourself then, my boy.

Our friend the Duke is here.

Let's go, my dear.

Where are you leaving?

I'm wearing violet perfume.

Do you remember?

George...

You know the revolution is brewing.

It's going to sweep us away.

I don't care about the revolution.

I'm tired.

Have a rest. I have time.

You have energy for everyone but me.

I disgust myself saying this.

I'm pathetic.

I just needed you to be close.

I have long stopped being a man. You knew I would.

I don't need penetration to feel loved.

It's not about the body.

You don't want me anymore.

You just want me to be a mother to Carl.

Stop it.

Over the years,

I've come to accept that...

what matters most to you

is your illness and music.

I've learned to lose,

either to one or the other.

Must I also lose to a child?

Lose?

-It's not a competition. -You keep pretending, with everything.

Nothing about you is real.

You pretend not to be afraid of dying.

But you're already a corpse.

You pretend to be alive.

You are right.

I'm hurting you.

I don't love you.

I never have.

I just believed I did.

It was an illusion.

And it's my curse.

Forgive me.

I forgive you.

And thank you.

I'm left with the most beautiful memory...

of my love for you.

I feel sorry for you.

I love this piece.

-What's wrong? -I went out with wet hair.

Now, try this, smart alec.

People say you're about to die.

Some say Liszt is more gifted than me.

You needn't believe everything you hear.

I don't want you to die.

You need sunlight and more sleep.

You must take the medication.

That's all.

You said that a few years ago.

With all due respect, Professor,

aren't there any new methods?

With all due respect, Maestro, I'll be back in Paris in seven months.

If you don't change your lifestyle, I'll visit you at a cemetery.

Have you heard of thermotherapy?

Good Lord.

You,

being a cultured man, believe in such superstitions?

Don't you realise it could kill you?

I've heard it helps.

You sweat out the illness. It cleanses the body.

You recommend sun.

It's not much of a difference.

I know you are afraid.

Excuse me.

Hello, sir!

There's a queue here.

You're in pain because you doubt it.

I don't.

None of you believe in it,

yet all of you come.

I understand you.

Doctors keep deceiving you.

It's not magic.

It's not a trick.

The ill miasmas, forming pus in your body,

will rush to this spot as if to a nourishing source.

They'll leave your lungs

and head towards this wound.

After that...

Sorry.

we'll remove the string,

disinfect the wound,

and you'll be young, handsome, and healthy again.

The human body is a very simple mechanism.

Thank you.

Hello, my friend.

Julian!

A gift from New York.

Thank you.

See that?

I do. Leeches.

The legs swell towards the end.

-What are you talking about? -That's what doctors say.

I've tried everything.

Nothing helps.

I'd like to live for another year.

Only America.

They love pianists. I played 30 times.

Haven't I told you how much money I made?

And above all, their doctors...

I've seen a hundred doctors.

They all say I'm dead, dying, or about to die.

They won't help you. Here, nothing has changed for years.

In America, everything's different.

-They have a cure for any disease. -For tuberculosis, too?

No.

They cut it out.

They'll help you.

You just need to go there.

Those are hundreds of people you despise.

They pay fifty francs per ticket. I need money for America.

We'll buy a house there.

A big wooden house with a vast garden.

Upstairs for Carl and Joseph, downstairs for me.

Just a garden?

America is the future.

Just two more concerts and you won't see me here again.

We're leaving when Carl returns from concerts in Venice.

-Are you certain? -I am.

You know tuberculosis is not contagious.

Don't blame yourself, please.

Shall we go?

Frederic!

You could answer the door!

I know I can't help you much.

But you don't have to perform today.

Is there a big crowd?

Yes.

Sold out.

I can play instead so they don't get upset.

You may return the favour one day.

People will understand.

I want to play.

Stop pitying me.

I don't need that.

It's just a concert.

Just a concert.

Here we are, sir.

Thank you.

Have a nice day.

Maestro?

Good afternoon.

It's me, Jane Striling. Your student.

I'd like to take a few lessons. I've forgotten everything.

I must refuse.

I no longer teach.

You don't attend receptions, either.

I'm quite busy.

You don't perform, you do not teach...

I have money. I'll take care of you.

The entire world adores you. No wonder I do, too.

Yet, I love you more than they do.

I have for years.

More than anyone.

So, I dare to ask you to be my husband.

-Do not speak nonsense. -I love you.

I'll take care of you.

Pity...

is the cruellest thing one can offer a person.

It's not pity. It is love.

You are everything I dream of.

It's not about you.

It's about me.

Goodbye.

Well?

I've been working on it for two months. What do you think?

No good?

Fritz,

it's wonderful.

What form is it?

None and several at once. A sonata, a polonaise...

A polonaise?

It's more of a fantasy.

All right.

Look.

Someday, a century from now...

people might understand this music.

Today, they'll tell you it's not music at all.

To them, there is neither theme nor form.

No one will see it as a polonaise.

My friend, if you compose such pieces,

couldn't you write a few simple waltzes?

Play them in the parlours you're so fond of,

and make a living from it?

I no longer wish to.

What will you live on?

I have no time to waste, Franz.

I've finally understood.

I no longer read books, nor buy newspapers,

I don't care to go out.

I no longer need to flatter, to smile insincerely, to ingratiate,

to prattle nonsense,

to pretend I care about what they say to me or about me.

I will die soon.

Believe it or not,

I feel free at last.

I like it.

I compose as I please, and I like what I create.

For the first time.

I want to complete this piece and one or two more.

If I still have the time.

Nothing more.

I see.

I'll see you at your funeral.

I remember...

when I was little,

running in the garden with my sister,

As usual, I began to cough.

I paused for a moment.

Mother stepped out onto the porch

and brought me herbal tea. I didn't like it...

I didn't like it, but I drank it.

And I saw sadness in her eyes.

It made no sense. I couldn't run, that's all.

I went inside,

sat at the piano, and began to play.

And as I played, I ran again.

I jumped and laughed.

I enjoyed myself...

and I didn't cough.

You know, that one will ever play your music the way you desire.

Go now.

Rejoice, old chap!

It's a new world! No more kings

or bourgeoisie! Poverty's over! Long live freedom!

Good afternoon.

I've brought you macarons.

Thank you.

Do you need anything?

I'm glad you're here.

At last, I have a sunny flat.

So cheerful here with you.

Fritz, I'll tell them to leave.

Let them stay.

They don't bother me.

Or you would have broken my heart,

found a younger one, and then left me.

Or I'd have left you,

and you'd have jumped into the Seine out of despair.

Impossible. I'm scared of water.

Fritz?

Not these ones, right?

Burn them.

-Have you lost it? -Burn them.

These are complete pieces.

Please do that.

All I wanted to say is with the publishers.

I don't want anything else left.

I won't do that. Not a chance.

George promised I'd die in her arms.

But she hasn't come.

Never mind.

Can you hug me?

When I die,

have my heart taken out.

Why?

So that I don't wake up in my grave.

Take it to Warsaw.

We will.

That's it.