Well.
No. Do it again.
Very good.
Exquisitely worked. You've crafted a jewel, my boy.
Perfect for a courtesan or priest...
to pluck after supper In other words...
this violin will never bear my name.
Put your anger into your work, my boy.
Stay with me and learn.
US$ 1 million. US$ 1,600 million. US$ 1,600 million.
Bid to you all now. US$ 1,650 million.
US$ 1,675 million.
Is that a bid, Sir? Don't be shy. All right, then I'll take it.
US$ 1,700 million.
US$ 1,725 million. 1,725.
US$ 1,750 million. Thank you. The bid is US$ 1,750 million.
-US$ 1,775 million on my left. -Mr. Morritz.
-Please don't let me forget this. -Was that a bid, Sir? No?
US$ 1,775 million on my left.
Against the telephone now. Against you, Sir.
US$ 1,775 million. US$ 1,810? US$ 1,810 million.
US$ 1,850. US$ 1,875 on my left.
In the room. US$ 1,900. US$ 1,920. In the room.
Yes, I got you, Sir. US$ 1,940.
Not yours, ma'am. Neither of yours. US$ 1,940 million.
I'll take ten. Do you want back in, Sir? Is that a yes? No?
The Stradivarius now at US$ 1,940 million.
US$ 1,950 on my left. Down to you two. US$ 1,950.
Not yours, Sir? Not yours? US$ 1,950 million.
All done, then? Fair warning.
I'm selling now at US$ 1,950 million.
And... sold to the lady on my left.
The last sale of the evening, lot number 72 on the turntable there.
The star of the night, and... Where is she?
The last violin of Nicolo Bussotti, 1681.
A masterpiece of the Golden Age. And if she will give us the pleasure...
Here she is now, lot 72... the so-called ''Red Violin''.
And this time, the last order bid is at US$ 250,000.
A lot of interest here, of course. Now let's open, and who will start us off?
US$ 260,000. Good evening, Mr. Ruselsky.
Madame?
-Cesca, can you still see the future? -Are you all right? Sit down.
Did you call me? I was in the garden.
-I can come here, can't I? -Of course.
-This is part of my house. -Of course, Madame.
I have some new amulets and bones for you.
If your husband spits on them, it will help.
Are you hungry?
-Don't eat that, it's fish. -So?
Your child will be slow to learn. There it is.
I also have some stones for you, and a key...
...to wear around your neck. -My husband is tired of spitting.
Spitting's what men are good for.
A father's saliva is the best thing he can give.
Cesca, tell me my child's future.
-I can't do that. -Don't worry about my husband.
No, it's not your husband...
I'm simply not able to do it.
I see.
Until the baby is born, your humors are one.
However...
...I can read your future. -No, I told you, I'm scared.
Come on, Madame.
Five cards.
It's only the future.
What if it's bad?
I'll pretend not to see it.
Tell me everything.
The Moon.
You'll live a long life, full and rich.
There's... a travel ahead.
I see a long journey.
Nicolo.
Leave us.
Close the door.
What is it? Why do you come here in your condition?
-I know I'll find you here. -What is it?
-I talked to Cesca. -And?
-She read my future. -Cesca! Dear God!
And the birth, she said, will be very difficult and painful.
They always are. This is no prediction!
-We are talking about me! -Why do you listen to Cesca?
She is our servant. I have an excellent midwife, an astrologer, a doctor.
They'll all be there. It will be perfect. I know.
-How do you know? -I know.
Nicolo...
I'm so old to be having a baby.
This is a violin.
-It's different. -I still have to varnish it.
-But there's something... -It's perfect.
Everything else is just junk, worthy of a peddIer or the trash heap.
But this is my masterpiece.
I made it for our son, Anna. Our son will be a musician.
He'll live for music. He'll bring us pride...
and beauty to the world, my Iove.
-Nicolo... -I wanted to...
to surprise you, but you see, I can also make predictions.
It's too big for a baby.
He'll grow.
-My child will come in the full moon. -Come to bed.
You're jealous of our relationship. Me and the moon.
No, I'm not jealous.
I know you'll come back.
Master, a boy is asking for you.
-Tell him to go away. -The doctor sent him.
I think you'd better come.
-Your wife, Sir... The doctor... -What is it?
She's not well. She's having the baby.
Get out.
Get out! Leave me alone, for God's sake!
US$ 1,650 million. US$ 1,675 million.
Is that a bid, Sir? Don't be shy. AIright, then I'll take it.
-US$ 1,700 million. -Excuse me, Mr. Ruselsky.
The Stradivarius now at US$ 1,725 million.
Paul? US$ 1,750. US$ 1,775 on the left.
Against the telephone now. Against you, Sir.
US$ 1,775 million. US$ 1,810. US$ 1,810 million.
US$ 1,850. US$ 1,850. US$ 1,875.
-US$ 1,900. -Son of a bitch!
US$ 1,920 in the room. Yes, Sir, I got you.
-He knows nothing! -Who?
-Morritz! -US$ 1,940 million.
-US$ 1,950 on the left. -He's cheated me.
All done, then?
I'm selling now at US$ 1,950 million.
Sold to the lady on my left.
Now, ladies and gentleman, the last sale of the evening, lot number 72.
The star of the night. Where is she?
The last violin of Nicolo Bussotti, 1681.
A masterpiece of the Golden Age. If she will give us the pleasure.
And there she is. Now, lot number 72, the so-called ''Red Violin''.
The last order bid is at US$ 250,000.
Who will start us off? US$ 260,000. Good evening, Mr. Ruselsky.
You must clean the violin every day. Care for it well.
This is your violin for as long as you're with us at the orphanage.
Well...
a curse hangs over you, Madame.
Danger to those who come under your thrall.
And there will be many...
many.
It is a powerful card, the Hanged Man.
I see danger...
infirmity and disease.
I'm sorry, but what kind I can't say.
There are many kinds of sickness.
These roads, Brother Christoph!
You've no idea what I've endured. And why such haste?
What is so urgent that it couldn't wait untiI my next visit?
-We have a boy, Sir. -You have many boys!
This boy is a miracle. You'll see.
Vienna swarms with miracles.
Not like him. We felt you should see him at once.
-Does he speak French? -No, Sir. Unfortunately.
All your students should learn French.
It's the Ianguage of music.
It hones the ear and elevates the mind!
Monsieur Poussin, this is Kaspar Weiss.
What violin is this? I haven't seen it before.
-We've had it for 100 years. -Far too big for him.
Look at his hands. He should play on a child's violin.
Even Mozart... God rest his soul...
played in Versailles on a child's violin.
No shame in that.
Wouldn't you like a smaller instrument?
He seems to manage.
Let him try.
Play, my boy. Play.
I see.
Monsieur Poussin?
We're prepared to offer a small sum...
to help him in his study.
They say you're a good boy...
well-mannered and clean. GIad to hear it.
But you don't like vegetabIes. Is that so?
-Yes, Sir. -What don't you like?
Carrots, Sir. And beans and cabbage and...
These monks can't cook.
They also write you've got a weak heart. Is that so?
You must have a strong heart to play violin.
Believe me. And stronger still to live in Vienna.
You shall see. Vienna is an infuriating city.
Infuriating, but magnificent.
Magnificent...
this city!
Antoinette!
May I present to you...
Kaspar Weiss.
One of the most gifted children on Earth.
But Georges, we can't...
My wife, Antoinette Poussin.
Good afternoon, Kaspar. How nice to meet you.
Go on in. I'll show you your room in a minute.
Georges, please! We can't afford to keep him!
We can't afford not to.
There's something about your playing that eludes me.
I've decided to analyze it, Iogically, with a scientific method.
First, your bowing...
and your left hand phrasing.
Your détaché, ornamentation and your taste.
And theory! Theory, too, is important.
You need a lot more than inspiration to play the violin.
You need method. You must think...
...and work! -Won't you eat?
-You must eat! -Do you want something else?
Try this cheese. I think you'll like it. It's French.
-Try some. -Taste it.
You'll see, a little different from the monk's crumbly cheese!
Go on.
Kaspar, if you play well, you'll enjoy the finest fare.
We can't afford coal, let alone food!
Sell your jewelry! Sell your David! He voted to behead the king, the monster!
My boy...
play well, and there will be cheese.
Violin... cheese.
-May I go to my room now? -Go ahead. And sleep well.
Madame Poussin will assist you in your prayers.
Why speak French? He doesn't understand.
So he'll learn!
I want them to know who taught him.
Good morning, Poussin.
I pride myself on visiting the Taufer Orphanage three times a year...
to offer my services as a teacher, as a gesture of support...
for those good men of the cloth. This year, they called earIy.
I was skeptical, but...
when this child raised his bow...
when he played his first note, well, Baron von Spielmann...
I knew my prayers had been answered.
You've unearthed another ''Wunderkind''.
I've got no money for you, Poussin. I have no concerts to offer you.
-It isn't for the money. -I suggest you find another patron.
-Must I beg? -Isn't that what you're doing?
Yes.
I am.
In three weeks...
I'm holding a private audition at my salon.
Prince Mannsfeld is leaving for Prussia...
and seeks a prodigy to accompany him.
He must hear this boy.
Three weeks. Can you be ready? Truthfully!
-I could be ready tomorrow. -Be very certain, Poussin.
-If you embarrass me again... -I've charmed the crowned heads...
Where are those heads now? Rolling in the gutters of the new Republic!
No, no, no!
The first phrase, the entire section, must be played staccato.
A modern style, well and good, but let's not be crude.
-You liked it, didn't you? -Yes.
I'm delighted. You're going to play it again.
You're going to play it again and again and again.
See this? It's a clockwork chronometer, of my invention.
It's called the Poussin-meter.
You will heed it with the same deference you would me.
What you just played corresponds to a tempo like this.
Each day, as we progress...
we shall push down this little ball notch.
UntiI finally, in three weeks, you'll be playing like this.
The world will be yours!
You see, Antoinette, there's something I still don't understand.
His violin has a wonderful sound, and a Iovely form.
-Of course, it's Italian. -Is it very valuabIe?
-Why do you ask? -Well, it could pay the rent, if ever...
He will play divinely, my dear.
-Can't you trust me? -Of course I can.
But must he sleep with it? He could roll over on it.
What? He sleeps with it?
Straight, proud. Lift your chin. There.
Perfect, your bow. You're cIutching. Your body's stiff, your elbow locked.
I knew something was holding you back.
Something, but I didn't know what. Now it's totally clear.
You're oppressed by your violin. It has you completely ensIaved.
Look at you. There, very good.
If you want to advance, Kaspar Weiss, you must let go.
What do you mean, Sir? I don't understand.
Antoinette tells me you sleep with your violin.
Tonight you'll sleep by yourself. Without the violin.
Without your violin!
Doctor!
Thank you for coming so quickIy.
Thank you so much, Doctor. Good night.
-Feeling better? -Yes, thank you.
The doctor says your heart must have stopped for a minute.
I'm sorry.
It's all right, but we don't want it to happen again.
Were you worried? Were you nervous about the audition?
It will be just fine. You know that, don't you?
-Georges! -I know, I know.
Kaspar, we want to tell you...
you don't have to do it if you don't want to.
-You don't have to play. -I don't?
We can cancel the audition.
We'll manage, somehow.
It's better than making you sick, see? You don't have to be famous.
No? Yes... Oui.
Sorry... malade.
I want to be famous. Sir, I really do.
That's my boy! I'm very proud of you.
I want you to rest, relax.
Madame Poussin will bring a visitor you like very much.
Merci, Madame.
One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four! Good!
Good!
One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four! Go on!
There you go.
Amen.
We better sleep now. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day.
Perfect. And now, backwards. Are you ready?
Rejected! The shame!
Kaspar Weiss. Kaspar Weiss, violin!
Play the best you can, Kaspar. Play your best.
Master Poussin and his protégé, Kaspar Weiss.
Closer. Come closer.
So you're the wiId child I've heard all about.
An orphan raised by monks.
If you prefer, we can call in the next.
-There's the son of... -No, no.
How charming to think a monastery has actually produced something...
something worthwhiIe.
That's a Iovely instrument you have.
May I see it?
May I see it, my boy?
Please.
Is it for sale?
I'd give you a good price for it.
-He's very attached to his instrument. -So I see.
-Perhaps after he's played... -Of course, let him play.
I might take him too. Come, play for me.
Won't you play something for me? Please.
Poussin!
Just play for him, son. Play.
Monsieur Poussin?
On behalf of the brothers I thank you...
for the generosity you showed Kaspar.
He takes with him the many gifts you gave him.
I did what I could.
Would you honor us by sharing our modest supper?
It's very kind of you, but...
my wife awaits me, all of Vienna awaits me.
Of course, we understand.
-I do have one question. -Yes?
-The violin. -Yes?
What will become of it?
I'm sorry, I thought you knew.
Naturally you were foremost in our thoughts.
After all the time and energy you invested...
it would be wrong to give it to another child.
-Yes, of course. -So we buried it with the boy.
He can play it in heaven.
Yes, quite right.
And...
and then I see a time of life...
a time of Iust and energy...
loosed across mountains and oceans, and time.
Confusing, Madame, I know.
But I see it. I'm certain.
Yours is a Lazarus soul.
Yes, I see.
Well, put her through when you can.
We're on hold.
You should tell her our story. Explain its past.
Brother, please, she doesn't care. She's doing her job.
But if you convince her...
-Father Viktor, good morning. -Good morning.
This is Suzanne. They're just closing lot 71. Can you hear the auctioneer?
Sold to the lady on my left.
Yes, I can hear him.
Suzanne, how do I tell you when I want to...
Leave it to me, Sir. Just tell me when you want to stop.
...a masterpiece of the Golden Age. If she would give us the pleasure.
I feel helpless. Isn't there something we can do?
Yes. We can pray.
This time the last order bid is at US$ 250,000. Let's open the floor.
Who will start us off? US$ 260,000. Good evening, Mr. Ruselsky.
US$ 270,000. Suzanne, on the telephone.
US$ 280,000. Back to you, Sir. US$ 300,000. I see you, Suzanne.
And then...
a man comes into your life. A handsome man...
and intelligent. He'll seduce you with his talent...
and worse. In short...
he's the DeviI.
What a marvelous violin!
-What do you want? -I was Iured by the music by the heath.
Oh, yes? Maybe you can go back the same way.
I'm your host. This is my land.
Now I see. My mistake.
We will not be a troubIe. We'll be leaving here by nightfall.
That won't be necessary. I'm sure we can come to some arrangement.
Excuse me, Sir. I must ask you to leave.
We have an invitation.
You can read?
Personal invitation.
Come on in.
-Evening, Percy. -Good evening, ma'am.
-In the dressing room, warming up. -Not without me, I hope.
Victoria.
I need you.
I feel a composition coming on.
So do I.
Ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention.
Mr. Pope has asked me to announce he'll be performing this afternoon...
on an antique instrument of the Italian school...
which has revitalized his affections for the violin.
I hope that...
whets your appetite somewhat.
Mr. Pope, Sir, whenever you're...
-Darling! -...ready.
I'd like to play for you a new composition...
which came to me recently...
in a moment of...
inspiration.
''How did it come to this? Saints in heaven.
How did it happen to him? An artist who could not be denied.
A poet, in fact. But a murderer?
No.
Yet the looking-glass image was hard to refute.
His fingers and cuffs were still ruddy ith gore, and as he watched...
in horror...
the speckles of blood seemed to multiply before his eyes...
like maggots on a fetid corpse.
What would become of him now? Where would he run to...
and where would he hide?
The options then were depressingly few.
Indeed, his mind was already racing...
east across the frozen continent...''
-Darling. -''...and over the frozen steppes...
back to the refuge of his childhood estate.''
-I have a theme I want to work out. -''To Russia, the Cossack call...''
-That needs to be addressed. -Can't you see I'm trying to work?
-You're so selfish. -I had mutual inspiration in mind.
-Can't you see I don't need it? I was... -My Iove, don't be angry.
-Oh, please. -You've only yourself to bIame.
It's your beauty that summons the music.
And when it comes...
I must play.
Damn you.
Is this what you wanted?
''East, east, across the frozen continent...
and over the frozen steppes back to the refuge of his childhood estate.
To Russia, to Russia, he heard the Cossack call.''
-Frederick. -My darling.
My one inspiration.
-I have something terribIe to tell you. -TerribIe?
-The worst. -It must be most terribIe...
for you to tell me now and ruin this perfect moment.
Jack has killed the minister.
-It was an accident. -I see.
He's now fled to Russia. Self-imposed exiIe.
I see. You're leaving me.
I've never been there. I wouldn't know what to write. I have to follow him.
-I can't go. I have concerts. -I know, darling.
-Are you very angry? -Why should I be?
Dearest Frederick, I havejust passed the church where Jeffrey was baptized.
and I'm quickly approaching the Rutherford Bridge. In other words...
darling, we have parted for under ten minutes and already I'm lost.
I return to my writing in the hope that these few honest words...
...might rejoin our lips... -''Darling Victoria...''
''...Bring back your hands to my shivering skin.''
''You trust in words and comfort of letters in a way that I simply do not.
And no matter what, no words can convince me that you are not gone.''
''Finally, my love, it's Moscow at last...
and my very first night was unspeakably dreary.
-Can one nation be so abysmal?'' -''What is this nonsense?''
-''Or is it because you are not here?'' -''I won't sigh for your woes.
If everything truly is as dismal as you say, then heed my simple remedy.''
-''Frederick...'' -''Return at once, betrothed love.''
''...darling, I long for your touch. I still seek your scent on my clothes.''
''I should have pinned you to the mattress when last I had the chance.
Like you were the butterfly, I was the pin.''
''Embroidered together, heart against heart.''
''Victoria, listen. Our moment is dying.
What is this nonsense? The music is gone. Like you were the butterfly.
This impression is passing, my love.
Where everything I said to you...
and everything I might ever say could be contained in these two words.:
Come back, Victoria. Come back.''
Do not write to me any more, Iove.
Ladies and gentlemen...
thank you for your patience and understanding.
Unfortunately, I have just received notice...
that Mr. Pope has been afflicted by an illness...
and unfortunately cannot be with us today.
Of course, we will refund those who desire...
but for those who do stay, we are pleased to play my arrangement...
of favorite English madrigals.
''Darling Frederick, I have seen the truth at last.
Eternity has passed since we parted. One full week without your letters...
and I am shriveling here like a flower in the desert.
I will not suffer more. Are you not reading as well as not writing?
Then you'll miss this crucial report. I'm coming back, my love...
by any means I can, tomorrow morning if I'm able.
Will you then forgive me, my love? The wasted time, my selfish folly.
Will you take me in your arms again...
and with one kiss eradicate each hour apart from your embrace?
I long for your love. I long for your touch.
We can't stay apart. Victoria.''
Savage. Extreme, rude...
...cruel, not to trust! -Victoria...
...Your sIuttish muse. -Who is she?
-Quiet! -Victoria, please.
Don't try to explain. It's not your fault.
Or yours.
Victoria, listen...
''Do not despair, Victoria.
This is the last page of our correspondence.
I am only writing to let you know of my plans for suicide...
by poison or drowning, I've yet to decide.
All my estate I'm leaving to you.
I have some personal debts to honor, but everything else will be yours.
Do with it what you will. It matters little to me.
Regretfully yours, Frederick.''
I'm dying.
Dying.
Do you know anything about music? Have you heard of Frederick Pope?
Composer, genius. The only virtuoso...
the nation of England ever came up with.
In a few minutes, his violin is going to be sold...
and if I don't get there because of your driving or this goddamned traffic...
I'm going to Iose my precious testicles. I'm going to be castrated.
-Please hurry. -It's there. Duval's.
-That's it? -Yeah.
Why didn't you tell me?
I need a receipt.
Hello. Nicholas OIsberg. I'm Iate.
-Yes, you are. -Please don't let me forget this.
OIsberg, Nicholas. I registered by telephone.
-Check again under ''Pope Foundation''. -Pope?
-Last violin of Nicolo Bussotti... -There we are. Please sign.
There you are.
...72, the so-called ''Red Violin''.
Last order bid is at US$ 250,000.
So we'll open the floor. And who will start us off?
US$ 260,000. Good evening, Mr. Ruselsky.
US$ 270,000. Suzanne, on the phone. US$ 280,000. Back to you, Sir.
Here. US$ 300,000 at the back of the room. Thank you.
US$ 320,000. Suzanne, I see you.
US$ 400,000 at the back of the hall. US$ 400,000.