does he work?
In there, sir.
Gentlemen, I've just heard some news
that may be of interest you.
What?
Mozart is writing a new opera.
An Italian opera.
Italian?
That's not all.
He has chosen for his subject, Figaro.
The Marriage of Figaro.
He's setting that play to music?
Yes.
What is this Marriage of Figaro?
It's a French play, Kapellmeister.
It has been banned by the emperor.
You're absolutely sure?
Herr Mozart.
Gentlemen, sit down.
Mozart.
Are you aware that I have declared
the French play of Figaro
unsuitable for our theater?
Yes, sire.
Yet we hear you're making an opera from it.
Is this true?
Who told you this, Majesty?
It is not your place to ask questions.
Is it true?
Yes, I...
I admit it is.
Would you tell me why?
Majesty, it is only a comedy.
What you think, Herr Mozart,
is scarcely the point.
It's what His Majesty thinks that counts.
But, Your Majesty...
Mozart...
I`am a tolerant man.
I do not censor things lightly.
When I do, I have good reason.
Figaro is a bad play.
It stirs up hatred between the classes.
In France, it has caused nothing but bitterness.
My own dear sister, Antoinette, writes me that
she is beginning to be frightened of her own people.
Sire, I swear to Your Majesty,
there's nothing like that in the piece.
I've taken out everything that could give offense.
I hate politics.
I'm afraid you're rather innocent, my friend.
In these dangerous times I cannot afford
to provoke our nobles or our people,
simply over a theater piece.
Majesty, this is just a frolic.
Is a piece about love.
"Love". Again.
And it's new.
It's entirely new.
So new, the people will go mad for it.
I have scenes...
The end of the second act, for example.
It starts out as a simple duet.
Just a husband and a wife quarreling.
Suddenly, the wife scheming little maid comes in.
It's a very funny situation.
Duet turns into trio.
Then the husband's valet comes in.
He`s plotting with the maid.
Trio turns into quartet.
Then a stupid old gardener comes in.
Quartet becomes quintet.
And so on, on and on.
Sextet, septet, octet.
How long do you think I can sustain that, Majesty?
I have no idea.
Guess.
Guess, Your Majesty.
Imagine the longest time such a thing could be sustained,
and then double it.
Well...
Six...
seven minutes?
- Eight minutes?
- Twenty, sire. Twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes of continuous music.
No recitatives.
Sire, only opera can do this.
In a play, if more than one person
speaks at the same time itґs...
just noise,
no one can`t understand a word.
But with opera, with music...
with music, you can have 20 individuals,
all talking at the same time.
And it's not noise.
It's a perfect harmony.
Mozart, music is not the issue here.
No one doubts your talent.
It's your judgment of literature that's in question.
Even with the politics taken out,
this thing it would still remain a vulgar farce.
Why waste your spirit on such rubbish?
Surely you can choose
more elevated themes.
Elevated.
What does that mean, elevated?
I`am fed to the teeth
with all these elevated things.
Why must we go on forever
writing only about gods and legends?
Because they do.
They go on forever.
At least what they represent:
The eternal in us.
Opera is here to ennoble us, Mozart.
You and me,
just the same as His Majesty.
"Bello, bello, bello".
Come on now, be honest.
Which one of you would rather listen to your hairdresser
than Hercules, or Horatius or Orpheus.
People so lofty,
they sound as if they shit marble.
What?
Govern your tongue, Mozart.
How dare you.
Forgive me, Majesty.
I'm a vulgar man.
But I assure you, my music is not.
You are passionate, Mozart.
But you do not persuade.
Sire, the whole opera is finished.
Do you know how much work
went into it?
His Majesty has been
more than patient, Signore.
How can I persuade Your Majesty
if you wonґt let me show it?
That will do, Herr Mozart.
Just let me tell you how it begins.
May I just