Real figure, real nature, sending out rays like the dawn,
making us all fall in love.
Oh, Venice!
- Oh, queen! - Oh, queen!
Your breath is the sirocco or bora wind
that awakens the shivers of eternal life,
golden lady who governs us.
Oh, Venice!
Holy head, stone and diamond, mouth that speaks,
ear that hears...
Raise that ribbon. If you are afraid, close your eyes.
Oh, how you grow, oh moon, with deep caves.
Oh, how you rise, with blue and blond hair...
Rise! Rise!
Put up the irons, put up the poles, pour wine, bring out the jug for her.
Fill her up with only the best.
She is a drunkard, a glutton!
Who knows what she will donate to us, after!
Miuna screwer, defecating buttocks, subterranean old woman,
old smelly woman or big Miuna, flirter and cheater,
who we are forced to accept as wife mother, wicked mother- in-law,
sister and grandmother...
A tragedy! A tragedy!
We won't see it anymore! We won't see it anymore!
We won't see this damned head anymore!
"A nun who has seen you for two months at the convent Mass,
wishes to meet you.
She will be waiting for you at San Bartolo island tonight.
Without a servant, and carrying a candle."
My love, please. Let me take off those clothes which are so serious.
They are ill-suited for our love encounter.
We must wait.
What?
I do not know if my friend has already arrived.
Friend?
He is here.
Who?
- My lover De Bernis. - The French ambassador?
That is really something! It will add a different flavor.
This villa is his.
He will allow us to use it,
but in exchange he wants to watch, without our seeing him.
Where will this bizarre man stay?
- He is over there. - Where?
Did you see those little fishes on the wall?
He is back there.
If you do your duty diligently, he will not be bored.
Bored?
With me?
- He will be amazed. - Really?
Never has he seen your femininity, your grace,
highlighted by such a well-mannered lover.
Not well-mannered! It is an offense.
When do two lovers, overtaken by frenzy, worry about manners?
Then... I will only be delicate.
What is it? Oh, what a lovely jewel!
Is it gold?
What bird is it?
A dove? Or an owl?
No, no, no.
Stop.
There.
Now you must chase me because that is what he likes.
Alright.
Your lover deserves being a cuckold.
And we will apply ourselves to this, all night long.
Come up.
Very good.
Turn around.
Stop, stop!
No, no, no.
Love, love.
Well done, my young man. Very good.
I would say your performance was excellent.
I have heard many admirable things about you.
To be more demanding,
when you were on your back, you could have done better.
There, you lacked a bit in...
imagination.
But on the whole, the performance was well done.
Bravo!
Mister Ambassador, your approval...
Giacomo.
Your approval fills me with great pride.
However, with your permission, I want to say that my capacities
go beyond what you have just been a spectator of.
I studied engineering, literature...
Giacomo.
and I am learned in the art of politics and economy.
I modestly believe that some of my discoveries
would be favorably accepted by the King of France's government.
Besides being a dilettante in the studies of alchemy,
which almost led me to increase the volume of mercury,
- I am an expert in divination. - Take this.
I invented an infallible method
to double the profits of a state, in the brief time span of one year.
If I may dare...
Your cape.
In all humility, I would like to ask your excellency,
for a letter of presentation.
I am ready to leave immediately for your wonderful country
which I love and consider my second homeland.
Good-bye.
Do you care for me?
Giacomo Casanova!
In the name of Messer Grande,
the illumined judges of the Inquisition court,
you are under arrest.
Why? Why?
"Giacomo Casanova, you are guilty of exercising black magic,
of possessing prohibited evil books,
of being the author of heretic writings and of criticizing religion.
I, Messer Grande, by order of the Inquisitors of Venice,
declare you under arrest. You will be put into the Piombi prison.
I respect the illuminated judgement of the court, Messer Grande,
but I am obliged to repeat that I declare myself absolutely innocent.
Come.
Listen, listen...
Open! Open! I cannot live in this horrible cell!
It is an injustice! Open!
I am not a heretic. Open!
Open!
Why?
My life of freedom seemed so far away.
The pleasant company, the love encounters.
Marietta, we need a different thread here!
He looks a like a mannequin.
- Are those things real? - What?
That silk, those ornaments, that satin he is wearing.
With a nose such as his, I wonder what the rest is like!
Tonina, pass me the thread.
Look at what a lovely statue!
The artist should have added more color.
That girl is a big worry for me.
She does not eat, does not sing, does not laugh and is always at home!
Here she is!
My lady is outside waiting.
Hurry! Hide! Slip underneath!
She looks like a peacock!
Come out from under there! Get to work or it will never get done.
You know he is starting to act like a madman again?
Again? I cannot believe it.
I tell you that it is so. Worse than before.
He is insolent and brazen.
My dear, it is a real martyrdom.
Do you not think we should do something to repress
who is so disobedient and rebellious?
But what? What more can I do?
I try to hide him,
to keep him away from other people's looks, as much as I can.
But he is so brazen and reckless and shrewd!
He shamelessly likes to show off.
Wherever he goes, he does anything to be seen by everyone!
I live in the fear that any moment
he may even speak.
He might make fun of me to make me look ridiculous.
Yes, he is very pompous and self- centered.
He looks like a fanatic.
He bloats more and more every day, right?
That is right, and he always causes scandal in church!
He distracts the faithful from thinking of God.
Everyone's eyes go to him! He is a sacrilegious instrument.
He interrupts prayer, communication with God!
He fills everyone's eyes with his fat, round cheeks.
There is nothing left to do.
He absolutely must be punished.
- Yes, he must be whipped. - Uncover him!
I have waited so long to hear him scream!
Whip me, mortify my flesh!
Do it! Make him cry! He is so brazen!
- Have no pity! - No!
I cannot. I love him too much. Have pity on him.
He is not wicked. He loves me. Do you not love me?
He is lovely, he is my best friend. My sweetheart.
He is lovely! He is lovely! He is lovely! He is lovely!
Sweetheart, sweetheart.
One, two, three...
No, with me, silly! Maestro... look at me!
My respects, Sir.
Your servant, Master.
Very good.
She looks like a broom.
Turn.
- What is the matter? - Annamaria is sick again.
Poor girl. Three or four times a day.
- Shall I call a doctor? - Run. Have him come immediately!
Thank you for your trouble.
- The doctor is coming! - The doctor!
Bleeding.
Bleeding?
Give it to me.
Look, Holy Mother!
I cannot look at it.
What can I do if I am in love with you, Annamaria?
Your spiritual beauty attracts the artist that is inside of me.
I would like to model you like a wax statue,
like the statue I thought you were.
I would be your pygmalion, I would give vital breath to my creature
and would give you my life with my own blood.
My own fire would burn inside of you.
What are you doing here?
- I am breathing the sea air. - In the dark, and all alone?
It is the best hour. After which, the mosquitoes begin to bite.
Do you know that you frightened me?
You are so pale!
Do you know these verses?
"The moon itself was incarnated inside of her."
What is it?
The figure-head of a ship which sunk.
The sea dragged it here. Think of those poor people!
Deep down there...
People of the house! Annamaria fainted. Hurry!
The doctor, please.
Annamaria, love.
Doctor, she is here.
Why does this always happen to the poor girl?
- What can we do, Doctor? - Bleeding.
What is her disease?
My escape from the Piombi prison was an artwork of intelligence.
The calculation was exact, together with intuition and courage.
These qualities were all blessed by good fortune.
I had never seen Venice from so far above.
I could barely recognize it.
My beloved city, which I had to abandon forever.
In Paris, the Marquise D'Ufre's salon was the one most sought after,
by every outstanding person of art and culture.
I had the honor of being invited there.
Among others, I met Count Saint- Germain,
a magician who practiced occultism, who I considered without scruples.
He boasted being 300 years old,
thanks to some of his alchemy secrets.
I had a discussion with him, in which I was victorious.
The famous Marquise D'Ufre',
an extraordinary and fascinating woman,
adored being surrounded by magicians, people with exceptional perception.
She, herself, was an expert in necromancy.
I am in contact with the Queen of Saba.
Oh, how kind! She has returned to us.
What is the water that does not come from the rocks,
that does not fall from the sky,
that does not come from the earth? Answer, the sweat of a horse.
They are the enigmas of Salomon. That is his answer to the queen.
We received the message. Thank you.
If you really believe in these extra- human contacts,
why do you not move inside the soul of the Queen of Saba?
She has soul deficiency, as all women do.
The Council of Trento gave judgement on this nonsense.
Women possess only two soul qualities. Men have three.
Women lack the noble soul, the immortal one.
But for a real woman, even one soul is more than enough,
as long as it blends in with that of a man, in perfect harmony,
with the fusion of their bodies.
What do you want, Marquese? Oh, yes. I understand.
She want us to hear the opinion of her young niece, Edvige,
who is very learned in theology.
What were you studying this morning, my child?
I was reading Saint Augustine, which I found absurd.
I think I can disprove some of his statements.
Which of his statements did you disprove?
His theory on the mother of the Savior.
Saint Augustine sustains that Mary conceived Jesus through her ears.
- Do you doubt it? - Yes, for three reasons.
First: because God, since He is not material substance,
needs no hole through which to enter or exit.
Second: the hearing tubes do not communicate with maternal alveolus.
Third: if the Virgin Mary had conceived through her ears,
she should have given birth through her ears, right?
But in this case... Excuse me...
In this case, the Catholics are right
in considering the Virgin, a virgin before she conceived.
Here is my refuge, my secret church, my interior dwelling.
My magic laboratory.
Everything you see, comes from an antique period.
And it arrived here... mysteriously.
Did you recognize it? It was from the divine Paracelsus.
This liquid has been boiling for 15 years,
and will have to boil for another five.
Tell the truth.
You possess the secret of the philosopher's stone, right?
No. No, madam.
What makes you think that?
My dear friend
you can trust me.
I know you have the famous stone
and also the capacity to communicate with the spirits of the 4 elements.
You could overthrow the King of France at any time.
I would never dare. I love France.
You over-estimate me, my friend.
Giacomo, I beg you,
help me in the great work.
The great work? What do you mean?
Please, you know what it is about.
Speak.
I have to die,
and at the moment of my death
I will be transformed into a man...
A man who will live in eternity!
But this is possible only if I am fecundated
by an initiate of my same pyramidal sign.
At the moment of birth, my soul will enter in the newborn's body
and I will no longer exist as a woman,
but will go back to living as a man.
A man who will live forever!
You, without a doubt,
are the man who was sent to me to help me carry out
this great work.
My dear friend, why are you crying?
It is nothing.
Nothing, really. Show me your other treasures.
Please, Madam.
All this will be yours
when together we will have created the great work.
Oh, no!
I did not mean material treasures, but spiritual ones.
The treasures of your ultra-terrestrial knowledge.
My dear Giacomo,
the divine Anael has already painted your portrait in a dream for me.
And I knew...
Be silent.
I am in Paris!
You are in Paris!
Beautiful Paris, the city of the Mazzarinos,
the Racines, the Voltaires! Paris!
My young and greedy heart sings a voluptuous hymn of glory!
The sudden overturning of the carriage which frightened me,
was maybe a help from destiny.
In fact, he who had almost ended up under the wheels,
was non-the-less than my abbey brother,
who some time ago left Venice and his priest's cassock
to lead a decadent life in Paris,
together with a young red haired woman from Treviso,
who had incautiously given in to his flattery.
I eliminated that dirty liar with a few coins
and brought with me the girl, who, besides being attractive and witty,
would have been the ideal person in my plan for the Marquise.
I planned on talking to her about it.
Selene.
Anubis.
Osiris.
Let us go beyond the pleasures of the flesh.
Let us concentrate on melting our souls together in perfect unison.
Scent of Venus!
Love is the source and root of life.
Love generates both good and bad impulses and passions.
Love generates the eternal flame, both divine as well as human.
Love generates gods and demons.
Take her in your arms.
Come, madam.
Come closer.
Scent of Venus.
Giacomo, the hour of Venus has come.
I am yours. May the great work be accomplished.
Wait.
I must first complete my calculations.
I think we are still in the hour of Mars.
Marcolina.
Come here.
Turn around. I cannot do it. Bend over.
Never does a man fall into the deep abyss
and then with equal violence is thrown up
towards he who is perfection,
like that diaphanous instant
in which the essence of his virility reaches and touches
the root of the opposite sex.
There, there!
Now silence.
Silence.
- Love. - Yes.
Marcolina.
Move.
Closer. Come!
Uncover it.
I can do it. I can do it!
I will pierce you! I will open you up!
I can do it! Good boy!
Sirs! Sirs!
Two years later, in Forli',
I was to meet the greatest love of my life.
Requested by some policemen, I had gotten myself
into a furious brawl which started in an inn.
The man in the adjacent room had been accused by the Pope's guards
of having let a woman in, dressed as a man.
Put down that sword or I will be forced to fire!
The host declares that last night he asked for a lodging
with a young officer who this morning he discovered was a woman.
He has been screaming like a madman and slaps that document in our face.
Do you understand what is written in it?
This gentleman is Hungarian.
He is a Hungarian officer, so you are committing a violation.
We were called by the host!
Yes. I don't want to go to jail. You cannot joke with the Holy Father!
Enough!
- Bring the coffee! - It is a scandal!
I am French.
My name is Henriette.
What language do you speak with your lover?
We do not speak. It has no use in what we do.
Whoever takes a journey to Parma
must be prepared to know at least three divinities:
salami, ham
and the famous third one... Parmesan cheese.
I asked myself who this young lady was.
What is her relationship with this Hungarian
who could be her father?
Does she have a husband in Parma?
Or in her libertine frenzy, does she look for other lovers and pleasures?
The captain seemed to have read my thoughts.
In his bad grammar Latin, he told me
that even he knew nothing about this lovely and mysterious lady.
She had turned to him, asking for protection
as if she feared something or someone.
But now he had to leave her, having to go up north.
I could have taken care of her.
Why do you look at me like that?
You do not recognize me anymore?
I feel unimportant next to you. I cannot call you by your first name.
You are no longer the brave and bizarre officer I knew.
I will always remain the same girl.
She who had three moments of madness in her life.
And the last, wonderful madness was knowing you.
We were invited to a concert at the hunchback Du Bois' home.
He was an eccentric gentleman with uncertain amorous boundaries,
just as uncertain were the boundaries of the Parma dukedom,
divided between the Spanish and the French.
That evening, two civilizations, two opposite conceptions of life,
faced each other.
An antique proverb says,
"What is lighter than a feather?
Ashes.
And what is lighter than ashes?
The wind.
And lighter than the wind?
Woman.
And lighter than woman?
Nothing."
We exercise much power over women, much tyranny,
and we made them accept it only because
they are kinder,
more reasonable,
more generous than man.
Such qualities which should have made them superior to us,
instead, put them at our mercy,
because men, in fact, are a hundred times more unreasonable,
more cruel, violent.
They are more inclined by nature, to oppress.
Women's kisses are like a glass of wine.
You drink and drink, and drink... and then succumb.
He who never speaks badly of women, does not love them.
Because to understand them and love them, you must suffer for them.
So then, and only then,
can you find happiness on the lips of your beloved.
A kiss is just the desire of devouring what you kiss.
I really think that Du Bois has that sort of appetite!
What is a kiss?
Simply the desire to get lost
in the soul of the woman you love.
We are beginning!
Silence. You will see a lovely performance.
He himself embroidered his costume.
It is all metaphoric.
The boy is good too!
- He is very handsome! - Bravo!
He was extraordinary. Do you not agree? You loved him, right?
The music made me cry, but I did not understand the story.
I do not deserve so much applause.
I wrote this work for Giambruno.
Thank you, Giambruno.
- Bravo. - Thank you.
My sincere compliments for the virtuoso singer
and the mime instructor. Amazing.
But after the topics discussed at the table,
you will not be surprised of my absolute disapproval
of the idea behind your captivating ballet.
Who is this Enrichetta?
Who is this priceless treasure of which I have become owner?
Is it really possible?
Oh, stars! You tell me!
Cry it out from the depth of your sky,
that the happy mortal to which this creature belongs to,
is Giacomo Casanova. Only him!
Mister Casanova, what is the matter?
My friend, I am afraid. I am afraid of my happiness.
- Yes? - Enrichetta...
She is an extraordinary woman, with an extraordinary destiny.
- However, I am tempted... - Forgive me, gentlemen.
Mister D'Antoine.
- Wonderful! - A real concert player!
- Where did you learn so well? - In the convent.
But if it was not for a precise order from the bishop,
the abbess would never have given me permission to play.
That pious wife of Christ, said that when I played the violoncello
I always had an indecent pose.
Mademoiselle, I apologize for being so late.
The trip is long.
Always, always with you, my sweet Enrichetta.
Cruel Enrichetta, how many things you hide from me.
Your past, your virtues, your talents.
When I heard you play the violoncello,
you almost made me die.
Enrichetta.
Love.
Forever.
- Mister Du Bois. - Good morning.
I am sorry to have intruded into your apartment,
but the servants let me in without announcing me.
I accept your apologies, but what do I owe the honor of this visit to?
As you noticed, Miss Enrichetta is no longer here.
Where did she go? What happened to her?
Nothing. My dear friend, she is better off than you or me.
But sudden important obligations forced her
to leave before dawn.
I only caught a glimpse of her
while she was climbing into Mister D'Antoine's carriage.
In this circumstance, she begged me to come advise you.
Or better yet, advise you not to do anything to find her.
Why did she have to leave? Who is D'Antoine?
Do not be agitated. I cannot tell you anything else,
except that the mysterious Enrichetta is no longer available.
An important person, from a European court,
has full power over her.
D'Antoine is the emissary who came to take her to her right place.
Her place is with me. I will find her.
I will not lose her, if I have to face the armies of all of Europe.
Where did she go?
- Where is she headed? - Towards the Alps, naturally.
I will leave immediately.
I must find her at all costs.
She is my sole, only love.
Mister Casanova!
I beg you!
In my super-human pain I was anxious to kill myself.
Or bury myself in a cloister.
A monk forever.
I did not choose death, nor to become a monk.
Death, the great friend of generous and unfortunate spirits.
Many years later, in London, I tried the extreme step.
Guilty of such unhealthy temptation,
was the infamous Charpillon, and her daughter.
Thief! There were 200 sequins, the corsets and the silver mirror!
I will not tolerate this insinuation.
Take your hands off of me, you whore!
Me, whore? I did not have the chance of being one with you, impotent!
Exploiter! Damned the day I accepted you in my home!
You and your lies on the stars, on horoscopes!
You and your daughter are truly damned.
You contaminated what was most dear to me... My health!
Filthy syphilis carriers, thieves, leaches!
Because of you, I am ruined. All of London laughs behind my back.
You, with that rotten worm between your legs, infected me!
- Enough! Coachman, stop! - Coachman!
Let me off, or I'll stab you with my sword, witches!
We are going to the police station!
You will repeat your accusations to them!
Go to hell, you and your miserable daughter!
Do not touch those bags! Coachman, leave immediately!
Whip those horses if you do not want Lord Winston to whip you!
Whore!
- Thief! - Leave me alone!
My bag! Mother, I have it!
Mother, do something! Mother!
Cowardly bastard.
If you take one step, I will kill you.
- Damned witches. - Quick, open!
May you end your days
in the filthiest brothels of Turkey.
May you be locked up in the most miserable prisons.
Leave!
Disgusting bitches! Damned whores!
You dishonor the name of all women!
Away!
Why?
You two witches mortified me, robbed me,
destroyed me... Why?
Giacomo,
is it possible that your star has reached the hour of dawn?
You put up with vile insults,
you underwent the worst humiliation of your life.
For the first time,
your senses did not correspond to your desire.
Eros has abandoned you.
And dark death arises in front of you.
So, if destiny decides,
that I
am to face the moment of death,
I shall do so as best suits me.
I will go dressed with my best attire,
the one I wear for festivities.
Soon I shall be ready
to enter into the antique courts
of antique men.
In the peace of Limbo,
they will welcome me.
I will meet Horace, Dante,
I will converse with Petrarch,
with Ariosto,
and with you, Torquato Tasso.
My tender friend whose verses come to my mind
in this supreme moment.
Where are you?
The great Mouna! The queen of whales!
Everyone can enter. The stomach is still warm.
A female whale. Look at its mouth, inviting you to go inside.
Are you afraid?
He who does not enter into its stomach will not find the treasure.
So says the antique book of wisdom.
Come and you will see inside its throat and farther down,
in the stomach of the great Mouna...
The Mouna is a door that leads who knows where,
a wall that must be knocked down.