Caravaggio - Act 1

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All right, here we go.
So historically, for those of you who have not been here, historically,
before every read we say three things. We say table read,
and we say the name of the script. So give
us the pronunciation that you would like to here on
the script, table read, and I would like to have
a little bit of excitement, a little bit of like
you want to be here, put a.
Little something in your step.
All right, on accountry, here we go. One two, written
by Rigid It's a good way Thanks, written by Richard Viterre,
based on his stage play on Black on screen Rooms
sixteen ten. Sounds of the City loud, deep human voices,
life at its fullest, overlaps into following scene Fadian on
exterior ghetto of Ortaccio, the Evil Garden, Rome night, small
groups of drunk men and prostitutes shout insults and seductions
at one another. Caravaggio, intensely aware in his thirties, piercing
black eyes, wears a dramatic looking black and gold tight
footing jacket with a red vest and a rapier dangling
from his belt, and a leather satchel of wine in
his hand. At his side are Julia Mancini and Petronio Toppa.
Mancini is the eldest, a poet, former merchant, wearing expensive,
rich green and gold, and Toppa is younger, a painter,
wearing form fitting blue jacket and brown vest. Caravaggio searches
the ortaccio looking for something which might be unat anable
cut to exterior chapel of Santa Maria de Popolo Rome.
Night Drunk, Caravaggio, Mancini and Topper approach the chapel, sharing
a satchel of wine. Caravaggiou pushes open the chapel door.
Interior Chapel of Santa Maria de Popolo Rome. A Nibele
Carracci late thirties stands in the aisle looking up at
a painting. He is dressed humbly in brown, non distinct
clothing despite his fame. Though his eyes sparkle with intelligence,
there is a pained expression on his face, as if
haunted by some impending doom. He can't articulate. Hearing voices
at the front door, he covers the canvas and hides
behind an altar. Caravaggio enters the chapel. I need more light,
Mancini and Topper follow behind him, laughing, blessing themselves, and
kneeling as they walk down the aisle.
Blesshe me, Oh, Father, for I have sin.
God knows you're a sinner. He doesn't need to be reminded.
Torch Mancini pulls a torch up off the center pew
as Caravaggio stops at a covered painting the same canvas
Karachi was looking at. Caravaggio directs the light to brighten
the canvas. The painting is enormous. It's the conversion of
Saint Paul. It's an astonishing word for its time. It's
bold in its showing of unblemished humanity. Its portrayal of
fragile human beings in a religious setting presents to the
Renaissance and Catholic mind a novel idea God can be
found in mankind's imperfections. All three are in awe. Even
the painting's creator.
Magnificent, splendid.
You're in the competition.
You'll gain the commission, and beyond my sins remembered.
Caravaggio takes a slug of the wine, throws the satchel
at topper, then turns to the other side of the
aisle and pulls away the canvas opposite.
His and here is karachis.
Karravaja throws the torchlight across Karachi's painting. It is the
same subject, the Conversion of Paul, but it's a prettier painting,
far less realistic, more idealized version of faith and suffering.
Karachi peeks from behind the altar.
Perfect saints with halo's spinning like golden rings. Awful, yes
it is, but this is what the church wants.
Kravajo looks up to God and says, you despise what
I paint because I expose.
You for what you are.
In the shadows. Karachi knocks over a small, unlit torch.
All three men turn ready to pounce. What was that?
Good demon?
Karachi steps out from behind the altar. Karravajo recognizes him
and puts his rapier back in its sheath.
I'll deal with this and me and me at the
tavern of the Hawk.
Go Manseni on top her turn and leave the church.
Caravajo walks down the aisle to Karachi Annibale.
I am shocked to hear you pray.
Oh, my prayers are in defiance.
God will take notice.
I only hope he does your work. Is brilliant. You
will win the commission, not me.
Karachi looks over Caravajo's painting.
Let me say now to your face that despite how
much I despise your realistic style, I admire it.
Are you painted like me once, not caring what anyone thought?
Your butcher sharp, the way the meat hung from hooks
on the walls.
I painted that when I was twenty one, when I
lived near the arena, I sold it to a merchant
for bread and meat.
It was magnificent. I even said to myself, someday, Michela,
you will do work as good as that.
Karachi gives Caravajo a slight bow of his head and
walks away, dejected and leaves the church. Caravo watches him.
Screams of laughter overlap into following scene Cut two, interior broth,
Piazza del Popolo night. Caravajo enters the torch lit two
story structure. He struts into the brothel with a wide,
charming smile, amid shouts of nique coming from most of
the topless or scantily clad women, and Caravadjo from some
of the male patrons. A young prostitute Isabella, rushes over
to him and he hugs Herani and his brothers were.
Here asking for it's a bella. You are a true beauty,
but stay out of the sun. Now give me something
to eat and drink.
Caravajo notices a young man, Fabrizio, drinking at a table
with a stump for a left hand, and as a
young woman sits silently beside him.
Fabrizio, what happened?
He holds up the bandaged stump.
I lost it to a Spaniard in Milano.
He insulted me, Well lucky you are right hand at
a poet writes with his heart but still meets his fingers,
and she must be a great inspiration.
Caravaggio sits at a table with Mancini and Toppa. As
Isabella brings bread to the table and Toppa grabs her
ass as she walks past her. She playfully starts at them.
As the young woman number two steps past the table,
Caravalgio jumps and stops at her, touching her face. She's
startled and.
Still Boticelli would call you venus. You are from Florence.
Yah see, how did you know your complexion is so
rare in wrong?
Just then, Caravajo sees a woman sitting alone at a table.
She's Lena twenties, captivating, vulnerable, and self contained all at
the same time. He ignores everything around him, walks over
to her, stops and stares in silence. She looks up
at him.
What you've never seen a woman before?
Women? I see you. I have it.
He moves to her, but just then a soldier steps
out of nowhere, takes her hand and pulls her from
the table into the other room, and she's gone.
Hey.
Mikhail Karavajo turns up and sees Maria thirties, standing on
the stairs, her arms folded across her chest, staring at him. Earthy, boisterous,
and voluptuous. She demands attention.
When you're here in my house, it's me you look
at and nobody else.
When I am in your house, I look at you
and no one else.
He walks to hers, slowly impulsively pulls her into another room.
Interior private room, brothel night. Karavajo and Maria pull one
another's clothes off, making love like ferocious creatures. With the
door half open, Blasts of torchlight, shouts, and laughter explode
beyond them. They are completely oblivious to it. All cut
to exterior brothel Piazza del Popolo. Don Caravajo pushes open
the brothel doors, shattering the early morning silence. He's drunk,
exhausted and spent. He steps outside and bumps into a
drunk Caravaggio and the drunk step back, grabbing at their daggers.
They recognize one another. The drunk is Ranuccio Tomasoni.
Ranuccio I thought I smelled lily sweet perfume.
Caravajo and Ranuccio lock eyes. Ranuccio thirties is a well built, handsome,
clean shaven man, unlike Caravajo, not dressed as an artist,
but as a swordsman, and a wealthy one at that.
In fine silk, blue and gold or the family emblem
embodied on his vest. He wears guards on his wrists
for sword fighting, and rings on his fingers, and expensive
bracelets and a colorful scarf of the finest silk. Ranuccio
calls over his shoulder, husakreton Michel de Marici. Two more
drunk men step out of the shadows. They are Tavio
and giovann Tomasoni thirties, wearing rapiers in their belts and
expensive jewelry. They had the poise of military men. Caravaggio stiffen,
says the Tomasoni brothers slowly take a stance, ready to
pounce on Caravaggio.
You owe me ten scoodi, and you'll have it when
I am ready.
Ranuccio grins as he and his brother's edge closer to Caravaggio.
The brothel door flings open, and Mansinian Toppa stumble out.
When they realize what they just walked into. They put
their hands on their rapiers and stand to either side
of Caravaggio. The sides are now even.
Your father was a warrior, but his sons they belonging
to convience.
All six men step back, pull their swords from their belts,
ready to pounce. When thumping of boots on cobblestone rattles
the dawn, they all turn to see several Knights of
Malta walking across the piazza in their direction. The knights
are stunningly attired in black and silver, with the bold
emblem of the Knights of Malta on their chest plates.
They carry their long swords proudly and intimidate by their
sheer presence and reputation. Both sides back away. Caravaggio can't
take his eyes off.
Of the night. So be a knight of the Order
of Malta. That's the highest honor.
Ranuccio turns to Caravajo.
One day, I will soak the piazza with your blood.
Ranuccio and his brother's disappear into an enormous rising sun,
orange and red, glaringly rising over the rooftops, soaking the
street with its brutal light. Caravajiou to Mancini.
One day, I will soak the piazza with Ranuccio's blood,
and be damned.
The sun drowns Caravajiou in blood, red light, the light
sound of horses overlaps into the following scene to black
fade in on flash forward several weeks a full white
moon in a milky white sky. Exterior carriage Rome night.
The carriage races through the streets. Visible is the insignia
of a cardinal of the Catholic Church, giving its significant status.
Interior carriage Rome continues. The only passenger is Caravajiou, thirties,
wearing a dramatic looking black cape, drinking wine from a satchel,
peering through the window to see if he's being followed.
He looks differently than he did when we saw him earlier.
He's now focused, concerned and alert. Cut to exterior Papal
security roadblock Night. The carriage pulls up to two guards.
The first guard steps over to the carriage.
This road is closed to all in and out of Rome.
Cara leans toward the window.
I'm traveling with special permission from Cardinal de Monte.
Caravajo hands the first guard official papers. A second guard
joins the first. The guards look over the papers.
Where are you traveling to Malta?
Malta is under siege from the turret?
Are you at night? No, but I am a guest
of the Knights.
Impressed, the first guard hands Cuivaijo.
His papers will be alert. So the roads are treacherous
with bandits.
Oh, I will be on alerts. Would you like some wine, gentlemen, No,
thank you.
The second guard waves to the driver. Interior carriage Night.
Karva Joe takes a slug from the satchel, then peers
out the window, looking down at the flickering lights of Rome,
glimmering like stars. Cut to exterior carriage. Boat dock continues
the carriage stars. Karravajo steps out and it quickly pulls away,
leaving him he staggers, then manages to steady himself without
luggage other than a satchel to hold a sketchbook and ink.
He moves to the small but seaworthy boat, also with
a flag and insignia of a cardinal of the Catholic Church.
He steps up to a dock guard and presents him
the official papers.
I believe you've been waiting for me.
The doc God looks them over and hands them back.
Hmmm, we were, but the tide isn't We shove off.
Immediately, Joe steps aboard and it is clear he's the
only passenger. He recognizes Andrea, a young sailor.
Andrea, my son, Matthew.
He steps over to him and touches his face gently.
Caravaggio, so you are the passenger we were waiting for.
You do know that Malta is a treacherous destination.
Not as treacherous as Rome. It's for me right now.
I have to man my post. Can I find you later?
Caravajo reaches out his hand and holds it tenderly.
Yes, let's find one another in the shadows.
Andrea rushes off As the boat slowly pulls away from
the dog. Caravajo stands at the stern, turns and looks
forward into the darkness where the boat is headed. His
eyes his demeanor reveal anticipation and hope as the stars
and the full moon light the vessel's way. Cut to
exterior boat Terranian Sea, dawn. The boat sails along on
the calm seas. Cut to exterior boat terrain and sea continues.
Carravajeau is on the deck, searching the skyline for Malta.
The boat's grizzly captain stands beside him. Caravajio sees something
faintly on the horizon Malta. Caravajo strains to get a
bed of view. The fortress stands high on the rocky
promontory of Mount Scaberis. Thunder blasts in the distance. Caravajou
looks up, perplexed since the sky is clear thunder cannon.
The captain goes back to his work as Caravajou looks
towards Malta underterre cut to exterior Harbor Castle sant Angelo,
Malta dawn. Caravajeau's boat slowly enters the harbor, and now
that he can see the harbor clearly, what he sees
puts a pit in his stomach. Smoke rises up from
the docks where anchored boats burn. The shoreline lit with
dead and mangled bodies, the ruins of a recent vicious
and bloody battle. Knights race to and fro, putting out
fires and tending to the wounded. Moans and cries of
pain emanate from the shoreline and echo out toward the harbor.
Cut to exterior boat beach Malta continues. Since the dark
is damaged, Caravaggio's boat runs aground on the beach. Caravaggio
views the carnage, smells the stench of burning flesh, and
sees the blood in the water. As he's about to
put his foot down into the sea, he stops and
looks up to see alf dovingerko, I knew that was
going to happen, Vinyakor. I'm doing okay, that's it. As
he's about to put his foot down into the sea,
he stops and looks up to see alf D Vinyakor
standing on the beach, dressed magnificently in his battle attire,
with blood staining his breastplate and a gold sword in
his hand. He stands over the bodies of two dead Turks.
He clearly just killed Ailof, has a beard that is
going gray, and had hired several deep scars, but not
all of them. His nose has been broken several times
in battle, and is elegantly dressed in brown, leather and silver.
He is oblivious to the surrounding hell like environment, looks
to karava Jo and proudly lifts his chin. His eyes
shine with delight to see karava Jo, and a slow
smile crosses his lips. Just then, a cloud of smoke
covers the beach from the burning carcass of a small
ship stuck in the harbor. Karavajo coughs, and when the
smoke is gone, so is Ailof. Cut to interior entrance
hallway Castle Saint Andelo continues. If Rajo steps up into
the castle and is quickly confronted by Stefano dela Croce
early thirties, tall Well built a night with the rank
of captain.
I am Stefano dela Croce, the grand Master's captain at
arms and at your service.
This way, please, Stefano leads Kao along the.
Path your visit took us by surprise. We only received
the Cardinal's message last night. I hope you had a
smooth crossing.
Oh, we oncet attacked by bandits or turks.
God was with you.
I didn't see him, but then it was the dead
of night.
HM. Well this way please.
He turns and walks down the hallway, and karava Joe follows.
Interior hallway castle sant Angelo continuous as they walk, despite
how a steer the castle seems. Karavaijo notices weapons and
even some artwork on the walls. He notices one painting
in particul killer and stops. Stefano also stops, perplexed.
There's something wrong.
I'm admiring this tempest.
You appreciate his battle scenes.
Oh, I applaud his use of blood, death, darkness.
I know very little of art, but I can see
the artist understands war.
And I know very little of war, but I can
see that the grand Master understands art.
Stefano nods, then leads karavaar Jou further down the hallway.
Exterior hallway outside karavar Joe's room continuous. Stefano stops in
front of a thick wooden door, with Caravajou behind him.
He opens the door to a room which resembles a
prison cell your quarters interior Carva Joe's room continuous. Caravajo
enters deeper into the small room. It is stark, unadorned.
There is a table with a bucket of water and
a bible sitting on it, as well as a small
enclave where to kneel and pray. The window as iron
bars on it. There is a bed with a mattress,
a blanket, and a single pillow, but nothing else. He
touches the mattress and makes a face.
The grand Master will call for you when he is ready.
He turns and leaves Caravajou alone, closing the door. Caravaggio
hears a key in the lock.
Wait.
Wait, He shoves the door, but it doesn't move. It
is locked. Caravajo sits on the hard bed, facing the
window and looks north towards Rome, imagining what is going
on at the Vatican. Cut to exterior Saint Peter's Basilica,
Rome Day, a dark, brooding sky with a shaft of
light cutting through the overcast, desperate to dispel the gloom.
Interior Vatican Office of the Treasure Council, Rome Day. Cardinal
del Monte fifties, who has the cunning into intelligence of
a fox, and the physical presence of a lion enters.
A shaft of sunlight cuts through the large windows. Del
Monte hurries past bishops and cardinals, walking directly up to
Pope Clement the eighth sixties, dressed in his papal robes
and magnificent jewels and his red velvet robe. He's pious,
old and ill your holiness. He kisses the Pope's ring
as the Pope reaches out his hand.
Why isn't Caravaggio here?
A thousand apologies? But Caravaggio is attending a new and
very important commission.
Pope Clement the eighth nods to what everyone in the
room is facing. Two large paintings hanging side by side,
covered by velvet curtains proceed. Cardinal del Monte bows, then
faces the.
Gathering aneebly Carracci.
Karacci, still dressed, humbly stands and walks to one of
the curtains and pulls it open, unveiling his own painting,
The Assumption of the Virgin. There is a gasp of
the piety and visual beauty of the painting.
Ah.
Cardinal del Monte then walks to the other curtain, pulling
it aside revealing Caravaggio's The Death of the Virgin. Caravaggio's
canvas immediately elicits moans of disbelief from those who have
no understanding of his achievement, as well as size of
all from those who know what he has accomplished.
I choose an epa at Carracci's canvas to adorn the chapel.
Pope Clement the Eighth stands and leaves the room. As
soon as he does, everyone rushes to examine the paintings.
Karacci steps forward and bows in gratitude, then quickly steps
closer to Caravaccio's painting, looking up at it. Cardinal del
Monte steps over to him.
You deserve to win the commission.
Who is his model?
Her name is Lena?
Where is he he?
He should have arrived on Malta this.
Morning, Malta for God's sake.
Why the grand Master requested him to paint his portrait?
And does the Grandmaster know that Caravaccio is wanted for murder?
Let's pray. The news continues to travel slowly.
You actually believe you can get him a pardon.
Without a pardon, he's a dead man.
A bishop steps over to del Monte and Carracci.
Our pontiff would like to see you for dinner this
evening in his private quarters.
Of course, the bishop walks away. Del Monte turns and
sees Carracci once again, staring at Caravajao's painting.
Where can I find this swiena the ghetto of Artaccio?
Why I need to know how he does it?
They both look at the painting. Cut to exterior the
letter Malta night. The moon throws a light over the
stone fortress, knocking overlaps into the following scene Interior Caravacho's room,
Malta night. The room is pitch black. The knocking wakes
Caravajo humph ugh. He stumbles out of bed just as
the door opens.
The grand Master is ready for you.
Cut to interior hallway outside the grand Master's chambers night.
As they walk through the torch lit hallway, Karavadjo notices
frescoes on the wall. Stefano stops at the door.
He is expecting you.
He opens the door and both men enter. Interior the
grand Master's private chambers. Continuous. Alov de Vignyokoor is sitting
behind a thick wooden table. Karvaijo takes him, and the
room in the high ceiling is covered with a mural
and the large windows are stained glass. There is art
everywhere on the walls. Ailof looks up from his paperwork.
Karavaijo notices he looks pained. His eyes can't hide what
he still suffers from all his old water wounds and
other more deeper agonies.
I apologize for the hour. Welcome to the letter and
my sanctuary.
Titian, Rafael, Timpsta, And in your whole way you have
a taste for grizzly scenes of slaughter martyrdom.
Well, I do indulge myself, but the.
Frescoes have a purpose.
They keep the glory of the order ever before my
eye and the others.
He Love stands and gestures to the paintings here.
Titian is here for his understanding of human nature, Raphael
for his understanding of human grandeur, Timpesta for his understanding
of human history.
And who do you have here for an understanding of
the human soul?
A Love smiles c Joe smiles back.
I'm alf Davignicourt.
Yes, yes you are, and I am on it.
Caravajious bows in reverence.
It gives me great pleasure to welcome the great Caravaggio
to Malta.
And it gives me even greater pleasure to be here.
I love, said some gestures to carave Adiou to join him.
He does.
We met once before in Rome. I was at the
unveiling of your painting, the Calling of Saint.
Maxi's in the Contarei Chapel. Yes, yes, I remember meeting you. Well.
The two men share a moment of mutual respect and admiration.
You came to our island at a difficult time. The
Turks attacked just before you sailed into the harbor, and.
I've heard how your knights protect our civilization. But now,
for the first time I have witnessed it. Yes, they
will return, and I will be at your service if
you need my sword. Have you ever fought in a battle?
No, Well, then it is fortunate that it is your
brush I employed.
We were concerned that we would be unable to get
you interested in coming here, considering all the commissions you
are offered in Rome.
Well, Rome was growing stale for me.
Stale an interesting choice of words. Why, sir, Oh, my
last visit, IE witnessed how it had become a savage
sinful city and an embarrassment to the Vatican itself.
Yes, the Vatican can be quite sensitive.
I was told you traveled with very little.
I didn't want to miss the tide a Love notices
Stefano's attitude toward kind of adieu with curiosity.
Do you know much about us? Well? I know that
you are both God's great worry.
Our motto is discipline, trust and death to the infidel.
We live sparsely, We pray for God's guidance, and we
are celibate.
Celibate, yes, to purge this owner.
The soul, the heart, the mind.
We are having a dinner in your honor tomorrow night,
in my honor. Yes, my men want to meet you,
and I want you to meet them. It might help
you in your creation of my portrait.
He stands and walks to the door as Carvajou follows.
Here away from your life in Rome, you will soon
find that the world outside these walls means.
Nothing, nothing grandmask nothing.
He gestures to the end of the empty hall.
You may go back to your room to rest. Stefano
will direct you.
Half closes the door, leaving Karava Joe alone with Stefano
without saying a word. Stefano turns and walks down another corridor.
Cararavad Joe follows. Cut to interior. Caravajou's room continues. Caravao
enters the dark room. He turns quickly to Stefano.
The bed is too hot, the window too small. I
need lights in the morning.
I am Caravajo.
This room is no better than a prison cell.
We all live like this. You can always travel back
to Rome.
The next boat sails the first thing tomorrow with the
morning time.
What is it about me? You don't like Stefano? So
my face, my attire, anything.
What you are correct about Voletta was not made for comfort.
It was once a prison.
Stefano closes the door and locks it behind him.
And why are you locking me in?
He hears only Stefano's boots moving down the hallway.
Fool.
Caravaggio lies back on the bed and wonders about what
is going on in Rome.
He is a murderer.
Cut to interior. Papal chambers, Rome, Continuous, Cardinal del Montean Clement,
the Aid sit across one another at a table, enjoying
their dinner.
Caravaggio killed Renuccio in self defense.
He Thomasani's family has been very generous to our Holy
Mother Church.
Caravaggio is a great painter.
Yeah, tell that too. Werenuccio's brothers. They demand retribution. However,
this patro of yours does intrigue me.
He isn't afraid.
He's been on his own most of his life, like
many today.
His mother and.
Father were both killed by plague. I first met him
when he was a young man living on the streets.
It's no secret that your stable of artists has made
you a wealthy man.
Francesco.
I have no doubt that you have enough save to
get on Holy Mother Church out of debt.
Ah.
Rumors of my financial world being are greatly exaggerated.
And as numerous as the sightings of Christ directly after
the crucifixion.
Your point, your Holiness, you.
Have secured safe passage for Carvajo to Malto without my permission.
Another rumor, No, I am the Pope. Nothing escapes me,
does this portre se of yours?
Faith in abundance, your Holiness.
Pope Clement gestures to his assistant, who quickly hands him
official papers. Pope Clement hands the papers to Cardinal del Monte.
His arrest record it's biblical and scale. He once through
artichokes in a waited and nearly blinded him. He said
the archijokes were rotten.
Cardinal del Monte places the papers down, he has seen
them before.
Allow him to return the room, and he will make
his penance.
The Pope coughs, God, it's calling me.
I pray that God be still. We need you here.
The Pope catches Cardinal del Monte's obvious attempt at false
flattery and laughs.
Always in such a hurry to take my place, our
conversation is over enjoyed. Discern elsewhere there will be no
pardon for Carvato.
The Pope reaches out his hand for Cardinal del Monte
to kiss his ring. He does bows and leaves. Thundrous
voices from the Knights of Malta overlapse into cut to
exterior dining hall Castle Saint Angelo, Malta Knight. A hundred knights,
loud and exuberant, intimidating in fierce enter and fill the
enormous hall. They are followed by knights with missing limbs.
They are followed by several young boy vallads, and behind
them two dozen Turkish slaves in chains, who are there
to serve the food and drink. On the wall high
above is the knight's emblem. Caravajiou enters, escorted by Stefano
and brought to his prominent seat at the head of
the table. The knights watch him in silence, judging him quietly.
Ailof Enters sits beside Caravaggio. Stefano sits beside ailof Ailof
stands facing the knights.
Once again, we have proven to the world that we
knights are the glorious shield of Christian Europe and a
bulwark against the terms.
Cheers and shouts fill the room as some knights draw
their swords and thrust them into the air or at
the slaves, who are immobilized by fear.
To tradition and to God our Father.
They drink their wine in silence. A bishop appears at
the door, let us pray. They all bar their heads
in prayer. Caravajou looks around at the sudden, sincere solemn
atmosphere of the room. Riotous laughter overlaps into cut to
interior dining hall, Castle sant Angelo, Malta. Later, several roasted
pigs are being cut up in the center of the
room as the slaves pour wine out of large barrels.
Then serve it. Ailov turns to Caravajou come with me.
Ailov turns to a door in the stone wall behind him,
He enters and disappears. Caravajo follows interior in a sanctum continuous.
Caravajo enters a small room, lit by torches and encased
in gray and brown stone, with a large barred window
which looks out.
To the sea.
This is where I want to pose for the portrait
in the morning.
The light is glorious.
Of course, as as soon as you decide to paints
and brushes will be delivered.
Grandmaster, you should be aware that I dislike doing portraits.
Then why is there.
I don't paint? Please? I am painting your portrait because
in Rome, when the knights enter the piazza, the hoodlums
fall back and the cavalier bow with admiration. That said,
your eyes will stay on your side of the canvas
until the portrait is completed, and you take the portrait
as is. But I will have suggest you then get
anna Bali Karachi.
I don't want Karachi. It is you that I want.
Why do you dislike his work? Do you question his fair?
No?
I question his taste.
He love bursts out in laughter. There's a moment of
genuine affection between the two men. Return to the festivities.
You are the guest of honor, so I.
Am interior dining hall. Later, who puts his arm around
the knight sitting beside him and both are laughing, then
jumps up on the table and raises his cup.
To the great Knights of Malta.
The knights respond and cheer. The knights now bang on
the table where they have plates and pans, making a
pulsating sexual sound. Some knights are joining in, but others
seem offended. Then leads some of the knights on the
table in a dance where they are swinging their hips,
shouting and swaying. Cao slips and falls to his chair, laughing.
Stefano emerges from the other side of the table.
And Stefano, what do you think of my brothers at art?
Yeah, great man, all of them, including you. Stefana, how
long have you been a knight?
Ten years? In here from Marseilles.
When I was a boy, I studied under the grand
Master himself.
I learned soldiering from him.
And your family they are my family.
You are fortunate then just then, a knight pulls Caravajo
back to the table. Hey, Caravajo dances crazily on the
table with other knights. Some of them are making obscene gestures.
Stefano watches caravaggo, and their eyes lock. Stefano leaves cut
to exterior ramparts Castle sant Angelo continuous, still drunk and
believing he was following Stefano. Caravajo finds himself walking along
the castle walls. A guard is off in close distance
keeping a lookout. A young boy, Roberto a Page, appears
on the far side of the rampart. He's blonde and
his hair is lit by the moonlight.
Hey, did Stefano come this way?
Roberto shakes his head.
Ah, you don't speak, but but you understand.
Good, Roberto nods.
I'm from Rome. It's crowded, noisy right now. I would
be with my friends in the Tavern of the Hawk
or the Tavern of the War, unless we go to
the Ortitracio, the Garden of Evil.
A light falls across them. They look up. The light
is from a window above them. Roberto eases back out
of the light, not wanting to be seen. Roberto, both
Caravajo and Roberto look down the rampart and see Stefano
walking towards them. Afraid, Roberto quickly turns and runs away
in the other direction. Stefano reaches Caravajo, but looks past him.
I'm looking for a page. You just broke curfew.
Caravajo drunkenly stumbles, gathers himself and gives a mock bow.
Many pardons. Whatever you put in your wine here and Martez, certainly.
We are aware of your life.
Enroll the bars, the the fights, the prostitutes.
I say to you, Michael Angelo, de tread careful.
Call, And I say to you, your eyes shine magnificently
in this light.
Stefano glares sharply at Carajoe is about to walk away
when Carao catches him by the arm.
I have no intention of offending.
Without answering, Stefano turns and leaves the rampart, turns and
faces the wind coming out from the darkness and the sea.
Laughter fills the night air and overlaps in two flashback
to exterior brothel, Piazza del Popolo night, Caravaggio and Ranuccio
lock eyes in the early morning twilight.
One day, I will soak the Piazza with your blood.
I will shunk it with yours.
Flashback end exterior ramparts, Castle Saint Angelo night, Caravagieou stands
alone Renaultier. He's drained by the memory. End of Act one,