THEOPHILOS
The gaps in the story of Theophilos leave the way open,
to the arbitrary play of our imagination. "
Anagnostopoulos Andreas, from Dimitsana, gunpowder-maker.
Doukas Dimitrios, from Agrafa, mattress-maker.
Douros Markos, from Zante, school-teacher.
Markomichelakis Emmanuel, from Handax in Crete, farmer.
Constantine Katsimichas, from Siatista, mason.
Miltiades Yataganas, from Lido- riki, shepherd on Mount Ghiona.
Glavas Odysseus, from Amarous- sion in Attica, water-carrier.
Panoutsos Constantine, from Me- nidi in Attica,charcoal-burner.
Theophilos Hatzimichail,
from Mytilene, isle of Lesbos, “Kavassis...
What does that mean?
Porter at the Greek Consulate in Smyrna.
Kyriakopoulos Pericles...
Single file patrol.
Face right. March.
Steady!
Prepare for attack.
Sight your targets.
Fire!
Dandies from Athens...
Labourers and craftsmen from Piraeus...
Potters from Aegina... Sharpshooters from Mani...
Cotton-pickers from Levadia...
Fish and fishermen from Missolonghi...
Stand to!
Next.
Stand to.
Next.
I'd rather have a sword.
Long live the nation!
Get back.
Extra! Extra! War ends!
Newspapers here, newspapers! Major events!
Though Greece will retain her territorial integrity,
she will emerge from this war...
both materially and morally diminished.
To be a shepherd in May...
keeper of the vineyard in August...
but better still, to be a fighter up in the mountains,
a rebel in the plains...
to take up my sword and ride my horse...
high up to the Goura mountains...
where the rebels have their lairs...
to muster my band of braves...
scattered across the countryside...
These weapons of mine... I will never lay down...
- Offer them a drink. -Yes, madam.
Come on, we're leaving.
Turks, hold back your horses...
that I may rest awhile...
that I may bid farewell...
to the mountains, the rebels' haunts...
and tell my men to carry on without me, for I must go...
My men, I must go now to meet my death.
On your knees, Katsantonis, pay me obeisance...
and I will make you lord of Epirus and Thessaly.
If I kneel before you, Ali Pasha, all the Greeks...
will be brought down on their knees along with me.
Kneel, or I'll have to kill you.
Do what you must, Ali, without delay.
How dare you talk to me like this, you wretched coward!
You are the cowardly one, Ali.
Take him away to the tortune-chamber.
I'll have them break your bones...
Katsantonis, you dog! Take him away.
Farewell, tall mountains, farewell, gentle hilltops...
Mount Tzoumerka and Agrafa where heroes are wont to roam.
If you come across my wife, if you come across my son...
tell them I was betrayed, lured to my death by dastardly ruse,
helpless as a babe in swadding clothes.
I fear nothing, Ali Pasha, neither fire nor hammer nor anvil.
Strap him to the anvil! Break his bones!
Yes, strike me, kill me, kill the hero Katsantonis.
Strike! Strike hard!
Break his bones!
You dog, Katsantonis!
Not a sound from you? Not a sigh?
Cry out, you dog, once only, that I may rejoice...
A single cry, an "oh!" is all I ask...
Why do you do this to me?
He shot the man! Catch him!
Police! Arrest him.
Be careful of his head.
I am sending you...
the suit...
I bought in Smyrna...
It's made of fine cloth...
I u, m.
The shop I got it from was very central...
with a most select clientele...
It will fit my brother very well...
I will not be needing it any more...
Your son.
Ready?
Don't move!
Done.
We've finished.
I want to send it to my mother.
You're off to Pelion in that costume?
Katsantonis himself didn't out a finer figure!
Strike!
Strike as hard as you can!
Go on, strike! Don't spare me.
One, two, three, four, five...
One, two, three...
Throw them down.
Go on, throw them down.
Panais Koutalianos went off to America...
and there he was challenged to a wrestling match.
Only instead of a wrestler they put a tiger in the ring.
So Panais Koutalianos cried out:
"Hey boys, you've let a beast loose into this ring!“
And they replied:
“Hey, Koutalianos! You're made to fight only with beasts...“
So he put his fingers round the tiger's neck...
and the tiger choked, and Koutalianos went to hospital.
After a few days he recovered.
Then they asked him: "How much do you want?" "Name the price".
And panais said: "All I want is tax exemption...
for my fellow-villagers back home in Koutali."
I'll paint your horse-cart as a memento!
He went to Egypt, he acted in "Cleopatra" and grew famous.
VVandering around, with nothing but a stout heart...
a fearless spirit,he fought the Turks, men of fearful aspect,
over at Fener-Bakseh...
Both Koutalianos and Katsantonis were short men,
yet they grew to be the glory of Greece.
In those days, a strange man by the name of Samson...
returned to his homeland after a long absence.
Now Samson was a giant of a man, a real lion.
All his strength lay in his thick, long hair.
Before he was born, God sent an angel to his mother...
and the angel said:
"Your son belongs to the Lord; let no razor come on his head,
no iron touch his hair."
Thus beautiful and invincible, he looked like Hercules,
the famous hero of our ancestors, the Ancient Greeks.
Easy now! Don't push. There's room for all of you.
She's not a mermaid... She's not a fairy...
She is Kama, the flower of Smyrna.
A slave in search of her belo- vedmonly when she finds him,
can she regain her body once more.
The show is about to begin.
You are about to witness the most wondrous spectacle.
The famous magician lska presents...
the Bodiless Head.
The living, mysterious head...
that was parted from its body many centuries ago.
Ladies and gentlemen, we have here before us a cube.
Let us ckeck all its sides,
except the one facing the curtain.
Right, left, bottom... all sides checked.
Now if we draw the curtain aside, we shall see,
a bunch of green boughs and flowers.
In a few seconds, the Bodiless Head will apear...
on the bunch of flowers.
No, it is not a dummy, and it is not a doll...
Bodiless Head, I command thee to invest yourself...
with a nervous system and to start moving.
Banana-mummy.
As you may all see, she opens her eyes, slowly.
We may now assume that she is able to see us.
Where were you born?
In the harems of the East.
The harems of the East...
How old are you?
Twenty centuries old...
My dear friends, as you see, we have here...
a living head, severed at the neck...
perfectly capable of answering any question.
You are free to ask her any question you like.
How many are these, Kama?
'Mo.
And these?
Four.
Four, dear friends, four, she said.
What is your name?
Kama-a-a-a
The little man from Smyrna...
A bee stung me...
between my eyebrows.
Mother.
Ladies and gentlemen, you have been speaking...
to a living severed head.
The show is over.
Romeo.
The Shakespearean hero.
Juliet's lover.
It's the little man from Smyrna...
Theophilos Hatzimichail, painter.
You're an artist!
Romeo, Romeo'. Wherefore art thou, Romeo'?
Deny the father, and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not be but sworn my love.
And I'll no longer be a Capulet."
I've played that part...
Kama.
Be some other name: What's in a name?
That which we call a rose by any other name...
would smell as sweet.
Romeo, doff thy name; and for that name...
which is no part of thee, take all myself."
The hero Davelis, the Duchess' lover.
“Dearest Tassos, speak, for I have not long to live.
Speak, my love, do not torment me any more.
Can you not see I have no heart for such pleasantries?
Life is like the high seas, but we were heedless;
and heedless, we fell in love;
we drank deep and grew drunk on love...
And we never saw the sad fate that lay in store for us..."
We must pack, Kama.
We're leaving for Velestino.
"It was no more than a joke, a childish game...
such as we all play sooner or later."
Velestino, the home of the hero Rigas Ferraios.
Known as Ferrae in ancient times;
Public rumour spreads the message of the insurrection...
to the remotest corners of enslaved Greece.
The mountain fighters rise one after the other,
and openly declare war on the Turks.
Members of the secret Society of Friends...
scatter from one end of the country to the other...
preparing the ground for the national uprising.
Now the Greek shepherd no longer plays...
the sad tunes of slavery on his flute...
but pipes instead the war-like ballands of Rigas Ferraios.
And though the sun is still high,
he sees another, brighter light,
a heavenly light streaming into his humble room.
And in this light he discerns the figure of a saintly woman,
meek and gentle, a halo round her head,
and he hears a sweet voice addressing him thus:
"Rest in peace, corsair. I will make your country rise again.“
Rigas Ferraios, kindling the love of liberty...
in the Greeks.
Painted by Sotiris Christidis.
Lithographed by M.Erginis, Athens.
Well, Theophilos, can you paint something like this?
In my own way...
The faces have faded, but the rest is still there.
I'll fix it.
You're here to whitewash the place. Get started!
Chunks of grilled meat...
Jugs of red wine...
Fresh onions from the vegetable garden...
sweet camomile...
Those smudges of yours are no good any more.
So get on with it!
Mister...
- Mister? -What is it?
Alexander the Great went to sleep...
and in his dreams he saw the Prophet,
and the Prophet said to him:
"Alexander my son,
march against Darius without fear..."
Knowing that the God of Heaven and earth is on your side.
And Alexander woke up, ful of joy,
and at daybreak he went to war against the Persians.
With sword and spear, they attacked the enemy...
and from morning to night there was...
such slaughter and bloodshed...
that the earth itself took fright,
for blood flowed like a river.
Alexander, King!
Life, Soul and Death.
I am not afraid of Lightning I am not afraid of thunder...
Me!
Costis...
Make it a good likeness.
Did you hear me?
Do you want Botsaris' mustache? or Androutsos'?
What do you mean?
Botsaris' mustache is shoret and thick,
Androutsos' mustache is long and thin.
A beard would be best.
The ladder-watch out!
Good night.
May I come in and see my pictures?
They'll last...
They'll last.
Is the horse still alive?
We lost him, Theophilos, last year.
Here he's galloping...
- He was galloping, Theophilos. -He's galloping.
One Saturday evening...
on the feast of Lazarus,
I was passing by Etolikon, friends,
and by the city of Missolonghi,
and as I went by, friends,
I heard men weeping...
You can spend the night here, Theophilos.
I am unclean for a house such as this.
I will soil your things.
It is very late.
I'll be leaving tomorrow.
I will go to my mother.
Those other painters in Volos,
they got a brigand to hunt me down...
He broke into the house where I slept,
he jumped down on the from the roof and tried to kill me.
But I lay awake that night and I heard him...
"The room is dimly lit by a small oil-lamb.
Suddenly a harsh frigid laugh is heard in the silence,
a diabolical laugh, enough to freeze the blood...
of the bravest man.
And lo! Before him stood the brigand chief, Kakarapis,
with flashing eyes, arms crossed against his chest,
a truly fearful figure... a fiendish spectre...
Though a man of dauntless courage, he took fright...
before the blood-courdling appafifion,
the mysterious, almost supernatural apparition...
of the brigand chief.
Yet his terror was mingled with awe,
for the brigand had come down through the roof...
and reached his bedside without the slightest sound.
But in a few moments his fear disappeared,
and he regained his customary composure.
He raised his sabre and pointed it at the brigand..."
Then there was that other time,
when they sent some children after me,
young ones, but older ones too.
They broke into the house and stole my paintings,
my drawings, forty bars of scented soap, cloves, cinnamon,
my brand-new fustanella.
I fought with then hand to hand...
and I finally managed to get away.
We're nearly there...
Shall I lift you so that you can see?
Are they expecting you?
I've been away a long time, Sister...
You look like Louis the Marathon runner?
Father used to shout at me:
"Keep the hammer slanted, hold it firmly..."
Didn'ts they call Father Pumpkin-head too?
We were all called that in our family.
Keep it slanted firmly Theophilos.
Mother has kept some of grandfather's paintings...
He left them half finished.
Why don't you finish them? Then we might sell them.
Grandfather used to sell them a sovereign a piece.
I can't Stavros, my hand balks...
'HM. Willa.
After I left home, Mother, I went to Smyrna.
I got a job as a porter at the Greek Consulate.
On feast-days I always wore my uniform...
and people used to say: "There goes Theophilos."
I found myself at the battle of Velestino,
W“:
with some other sharpshooters.
Then I went to our cousins in Pelion,
and there I began to paint.
One day I went back to Smyrna.
I painted pictures of our Greek heroes.
The Turks happened to see my paintings.
They saw my signature.
They proclaimed I was wanted for helping the insurrection...
I always carried weapons with me...ammunition...
and I painted.
Now I've come back home.
Ready?
Are there any more paintings in the area?
Yes, there are.
He wanders all over the island, painting.
He sells them for a piece of bread, poor wretch.
My son is interested in his work.
He is using the same compositions as at Volos.
He has only added the landscapes of Lesbos.
And here we have the Greek Rousseau.
I'd really like to know how he mixes his colours.
These shades, this range of colours...
they remind one of Matisse, don't you think?
Yes, decidedly, a European-like painter.
The Greeks seem to have a rare notion of cleanliness.
They're constantly white-washing their houses.
They'll never save these paintings.
They've been writing about you in Athens, Theophilos...
about your paintings...
"Theophilos' paintings are the work of a medium."
He is not what one may call a conscious, gifted artist,
with a strictly personal approach or style.
It'. lad-I"
expressed themselves directly, totally, in these paintings...
using Theophilos as a channel, an intermediary,
in the same way that a medium in a trance conveys...
the thoughts and wishes of some other, unrelated spirit."
Medium...does that mean...a magician?
"I.
"We applaud...
Theophilos Hatzimichail,
the folk artist..."
in the white fustanella,
who handles colour...
with a truly astounding...
II
Fine paintings, Mr.Stratis real artistic stuff.
Those loaves of bread will fall, the way you're done them.
Don't worry...its the real loaves that fall.
Painted bread never falls.
In a painting, everything must be seen clearly.
Bread...
'If.
Look, look!
Sarandaporo. . . Bizani . .. Nevrokopion...
Lachana...
Kozani...
Go away.
Velentzas' bakery.
Diamantis the butcher.
Will you paint for me?
Large walls?
No, you will paint on canvas.
Lots of pictures?
As many as you like.
Limit. Infill”..-
Paint as many pictures as you can.
This is to buy paints.
I'll have to mix the colours differently.
He said, paint anything you like, only copy these as well.
Tell him... I can't do that.
- Mother. - Take me inside.
Sunbathing after a swim in the sea...
Olive-picking, by Theophilos Hatzimichail.
Koutalianos at Montevideo.
What purity of soul!
Stavros, tell us something about your brother's paintings.
Thou embellisher of nature's landscapes...
thy skilful hand commingles colours in such a fashion...
that thou hast become the livi- ng wonder of the worlds of art.
Thy lofty spirit, instilled with godsent inspiration,
hath brought upon thee the gold en rays of everlasting glory.
A true son of the isle, that bore Sappho and Arion.
Child of Lesbos.
What did I do?
I must be mad.
The watchful Muses assist thee in thy noble task...
animated by the ardent love of beauteous Nature...
of Nature, as I was saying, yea, of Nature...
Go away, Theophilos... go away...
I am standing on air...
Uncle...
Uncle.
Here's some fish. From my mother...
Will you go to the parade tomorrow?
Yes. I'm going with my schoolmates.
We're little fishes, all of us...
all born in the great baptismal font.
Uncle...
Subtitles - DVD Authoring VIDEOPRESS S.A.