I'm sorry, my dear. I'm drunk.
It's your health I'm worried about.|You know what the doctor said.
Yes, I shouldn't drink.|It's bad for the heart.
What about the mind?
I suppose that should be clear and|alert so I can contemplate the future.
The prospects of joining|those gray-haired nymphs
that sleep|on the Thames embankment at night.
You'll never join them|while I'm alive.
Oh, I forgot to get your supper!|I'm no good.
I'll get it later on.|First I'm going to put you to bed.
But you've had nothing to eat.
Did you take your medicine?
You didn't.|It's to give you an appetite.
I've quenched my appetite.
You'll be ill again,|if you don't eat.
Well, I much prefer to drink.
A man's true character comes out|when he's drunk.
Me, I'm funnier.
Too bad I didn't drink|at the Middlesex.
I've got good news for you.
Mr. Bodalink wants to see you|tomorrow morning.
Our dance director. He wants you|to play a clown in the new ballet.
I'm through clowning.
Life isn't a gag anymore.|I can't see the joke.
From now on, I'm a retired humorist.
You'll feel differently|in the morning.
No, I hate the theatre!
Someday I'll buy|an acre of ground somewhere
and raise a few cut flowers,|and make a living that way.
What do you think?|It's all settled. I play the clown.
Let's sit down over here|and you can tell me all about it.
Of course, the salary isn't much.
But it's a foot in the door.|Naturally I'm not using my own name.
This Bodalink's a nice chap.|Says you're quite a dancer.
If you'd have come to the theatre,|you might have known it.
Why didn't you tell me|you were auditioning?
I wanted to surprise you.
I'm not sure of the outcome.|It depends on Mr. Postant.
Postant!|I thought he'd retired years ago.
Why, do you know him?
Last time I worked for Postant,|I was the headline here.
Your hands are quite cold.
I think I've got the girl. Young,|sympathetic, a brilliant dancer.
Bring her on!
You understand|it's purely improvising.
That's how I always judge a dancer.
This is Thereza, Mr. Postant.
- How do you do.|- How do you do.
You'll be dancing to Mr. Neville's|music. Listen to it first.
This is Mr. Neville, our composer.
- How do you do.|- How do you do.
I believe we've met before.
It's 12:30, we'd better call lunch.|Lunch everybody! Back at 1:30.
Allow me to congratulate|the next prima ballerina.
You're sopping wet, my dear.|Get your coat.
Put in on and then|we'll talk business.
- May I also congratulate you?|- Thank you.
Come dear. We'll meet at my office|at 2:30 and fix up her contract.
But we're rehearsing at 2.
Make it 6, after rehearsal.
Run up to your dressing room|before you get a chill.
- Where's Neville?|- Coming!
All right Frank,|turn off those lights.
Here I am.
I was looking for you outside.
What are you doing|sitting in the dark?
I'd be ridiculous in the light.|Look at me, I'm shameless.
But I can't help it.
My dear, you are a true artist.
This is absurd. Ridiculous.
I've waited for this moment.
I love you.
I've wanted to say it for so long.
Ever since the day you thought|I was a woman of the street.
You took me in,
cared for me,
saved my life,
But above all that,|I just love you.
Please, Calvero, marry me.
- What nonsense is this?|- It isn't nonsense.
My dear, I'm an old man.
I don't care what you are.
I love you.|That's all that matters.
Latest news, express!
While you're having lunch,|I'm going to see about my wig.
Then I'll go with you.
You'd better have lunch first.|I might be delayed.
I'll see you back at the theatre.
Have a good lunch.
Oh, hello there.
I'm the man at the piano|who played a moment ago.
It's quite crowded.
Always is at lunch time.
Your order, please.
Bacon and eggs, toast and tea.
That's always safe.
Beautiful day to be rehearsing.
Although the papers|are predicting more rain.
What's the joke?
I finally have the chance to talk|to you and I've nothing to say.
What is more eloquent than silence?
- I'd better change tables.|- I won't bite.
I'm not too sure. I was|severely frostbitten a moment ago.
What do you mean?
This morning.|When we were introduced.
I don't understand.
My reception was rather cool,|I thought.
I still don't understand.
I seem to be getting|a little involved.
You see, I had an idea|that we'd met before.
Well, perhaps we have.
If we haven't,|then you have a twin sister.
Who is she?
Do you really want to know?
A young girl|who used to work at Sardou's,
a stationary shop|where I bought music paper.
A very shy, reticent girl.
She seldom spoke.
But her smile was warm|and appealing.
I read many things into it.
I also was shy.|It was a bond between us.
She used to give me|extra music sheets,
and occasionally extra change.
Which, frankly, I accepted.|Hunger has no conscience.
The day after my symphony|played the Albert Hall,
I went back to the shop,
but she'd gone.|They said she'd left months ago.
You haven't seen her since?
Well, have I?
Yes, you have.
I lost my job giving you|those extra music sheets.
- You won't hold that against me?|- Of course not.
I was very young then.
You're very young now.
I don't know.|Soon I shall be an old married lady.
Then I wish you lots of happiness.
I wish that waitress would hurry.
Before we do the choreography,|I'll explain the story.
It's about Harlequinade.
Terry is Columbine.|She is dying in a London garret.
Harlequin, who is the lover,|and the clowns, are at her bedside.
She asks to be carried|to the window.
She wants to look upon the rooftops|one last time.
The clowns weep. She smiles.
Their clothes are not for sorrow|but for laughter.
She wants them to perform,|do their tricks.
The clowns can do their comedy.
- While she's dying?|- Yes.
Let me see, where am I?
As the clowns perform,|she becomes delirious.
Spirits of Columbines|dance before her.
Then she dies.|That's the first scene.
Next is the graveyard|where Columbine was buried.
Harlequin, her lover,|enters in the moonlight.
He tries to resurrect her|from the grave.
But he fails.
The spirits tell him not to grieve.
His love is not in the grave,|but everywhere.
Then Terry appears.
That's your solo, then the finale.
We'd better get a move on.|It's only 3 weeks to the opening.
What is it?
- How's it going?|- Wonderful. Thumbs up.
- I wish the dance was over.|- You've nothing to worry about.
I'm scared. Pray for me.
God helps those|who help themselves. Good luck.
- I can't go on!|- What?
My legs! I can't move!
It's nerves. Just move.
No, I can't move. I'm paralyzed!
Pure hysteria!|There's your cue, get on stage!
No, I'm falling!|It's my legs, they're paralyzed!
Get on that stage!
See? There's nothing wrong|with your legs.
Whoever you are, whatever it is,|just keep her going, that's all.
I've lost a button.
One of these.
It's all right.
Where's Calvero?|He told me to wait for him here.
I'll send the call boy|to look for him.
Supper is served.|You're sitting next to Mr. Postant.
Supper is now being served|in both lounges.
Come along, my dear.|You're next to me.
Bodalink, you're down there|my dear fellow.
Destiny must be a headwaitress.
She seats us together again.
She might be your nemesis.
I think I'll stand up|under the punishment.
However, my congratulations.|Tonight you were wonderful.
That's what they call|the old army game.
Neville, they tell me|the army's caught up with you.
You've joined the army?
On the contrary, the army joined me.|I was drafted.
I agree.|It's carrying the war too far.
However, there's the possibility|of joining up here.
Would you like to dance?
I appeal to your patriotism.|You can't refuse a soldier.
Governor, I remember|when you played Widow Twankey
at the Theatre Royal,|Birmingham, in 1890...
Go easy there laddie, go easy.
Let's have a drink.
Calvero, old boy,|how's the world treating you?
Rather aggressively at the moment.
You don't know me.
The fact is most gratifying.
Is that supposed to be funny?
My man, you will never know.|Have a little drink.
Only have it|at the other end of the bar.
Pardon me, Miss Thereza is waiting|for you in the dress circle.
What is it?
Miss Thereza is waiting for you|in the dress circle.
Will you kindly tell her not to worry,|I've gone home to bed.
Very well, sir.
What's happened to Calvero?
He left word that he was tired|and had gone home to rest.
I must go at once. Say good night|to Mr. Postant for me.
I'll get you a cab.
I'll walk home.
He must be asleep, poor dear.|Too much excitement for him.
I'm beginning|to feel the strain myself.
Then I'll be going.
Shall we see you|before you leave for camp?
I leave this morning.
Good bye, Terry.
Say you love me, just a little.
I've tried to fight it, but I can't.
Please, it's useless.
You're as helpless as I am.|We love each other.
I never said I loved you.
Every look, gesture says it!
No, don't say that!
I know how devoted|you are to Calvero,
but marrying him isn't right.|It isn't fair to you.
You're young, just beginning life.
This devotion is idealistic.|Your youth!
But it isn't love.
No, you're wrong.|I really love him.
You pity him.
It's more than pity.
It's something I've lived with,|grown to.
It's his soul, his sweetness,|his sadness...
Nothing will ever separate me|from that.
Good night, Terry.
Listen to this one:
"With ease, Thereza pirouetted|and flexed radiant authority.
"She was light,|quicksilver, efflorescing!
"A Diana spinning|wisps of beauty about her."
Well, you've done it.
How's it feel to wake up famous?
That's right, have a good cry|and enjoy it. It only happens once.
Let's marry, soon.
If we could only get away.|That house in the country,
where we could have|peace and happiness.
The first time I've ever heard you|mention that word.
- I'm always happy with you.|- Are you?
Of course. I love you.
Wasted on an old man.
Love is never wasted.
Terry, you're like a nun, shutting|everything else out for my sake.
It isn't fair, wasting your youth.
You deserve more than this.
Let me go away.
What's come over you?
I can't help it!|If I only had the strength to leave!
But I stay on, tormenting myself.
The whole thing is false.
In the few years I have left,|I must have truth.
That's all I have left.
That's all I want.
And if possible, a little dignity.
If you leave me, I'll kill myself.
I hate life!|The torment, the cruelty of it.
I couldn't go on without you!|Don't you understand, I love you!
- You want to love me.|- But I do, I do!
It's Neville you love.|I don't blame you.
That isn't true.
He's the composer|you knew at Sardou's.
Yes. I didn't tell you|because I thought it...
Inevitable.|I prophesized it, remember?
A balcony overlooking the Thames!
But it isn't true!
In the twilight|he will tell you he loves you.
And you will tell him|you've always loved him.
But I don't love him! I never did.
It was his music, his art.
He meant a world|that had been denied me.
You look so well together.
But I don't love him! I never did.
Please, you must believe me!|You must!
Dancing's excellent,|but the comedy's poor.
We'll have to get rid of that clown.
I've called Blackmore's Agency,|they're sending down another man.
You know who that clown is?
I don't care if it's Calvero himself.|He isn't funny.
- But that's who it is.|- What?
Calvero,|only he's under another name.
Why the devil didn't you tell me?
He didn't want it known.
Poor old Calvero. Well, that's|different, we'd better keep him.
After all,|the comedy isn't too important.
But I didn't see him|at the supper party on opening night.
He didn't show up.|That's why Thereza left so early.
What's he got to do with her?
Believe it or not,|she's going to marry him.
That old reprobate?
Bless my soul,|there's hope for me yet.
It's time for rehearsal.
Wait a minute.
I'll call Blackmore's and cancel|that fellow before he gets down here.
If you finish rehearsing early,|don't wait for me.
I've so many things to do,|but I'll be home by six.
- Calvero?|- Griffin!
I haven't seen you in ages!|Where are you working?
Nowhere. I'm looking for a job.
Blackmore sent me down|to see this new ballet.
I understand the clown's|not very good
and I could get the part.|Wish me luck.
- Good luck, old man.|- Thanks.
What is it?
What on earth is the matter?
Calvero, where is he?|Have you seen him?
- What do you mean?|- He's left me!
Would you like to contribute?
Captain,|would you like to contribute?
No, that's all right, put it in.
I've no false pride.
Sit down, have a drink.
Thank you, old man, not during|office hours. But I'll sit down.
How are you?
Never felt better in my life!
And how is the army treating you?
Not so bad.
I get up to London every other week.
Have you seen Terry?
How is she?
After you left she was quite ill.
But she's all right now?
She's been touring the continent.|Since she got back she's much better.
She never told me|what happened between you.
What could happen,|but the inevitable?
You see a great deal of her?
Somehow I knew|it would work out that way.
Time is the great author.
It always writes|the perfect ending.
How do you do, Mr. Postant?
Just a moment.|You're just the man I want to see.
Would you like to contribute?
Are you with that outfit outside?
I am, sir.
Oh, thank you.
You oughtn't to be doing this!
Why not? All the world's a stage.
And this one is the most legitimate.
I must go, or my confreres will|think I've run off with the takings.
Thank you, gentlemen.
Don't you think|I should tell Terry I've seen you?
Knowing I'm doing this sort of thing|might upset her.
Although I don't mind it.
There's something|about working the streets I like.
It's the tramp in me, I suppose.
Wait a minute. Why don't you|come and see me at my office?
- What about?|- Business.
I never discuss business,|I leave that to my agent. Call him up.
However I'm booked up solid,|you know.
Au revoir, Gentlemen.
Driver, stop!|Please, turn around.
Keep the change.
Cyrano de Bergerac,|without the nose.
Let's sit down.
So they told you, huh?
I've been searching|all over London for you.
The same Terry.
A little more grown up, that's all.
I don't want to grow up.
None of us do.
But I had to, after you left.
It's all for the best.|All for the best.
I don't know.
But something's gone.
it only changes.
I still love you.
Of course you do.
You always will.
Calvero, come back.
You've got to come back!
I can't.|I must go forward.
Then let me go with you.
I'll do everything in the world|to make you happy.
That's what hurts.|I know you will.
Mr. Postant said|he'd give you a benefit.
I don't want his charity.
It isn't charity.
He says it'd be the greatest|event in theatrical history.
I'm not interested in events.
But I would like a chance just|to show them I'm not through yet.
I've still got ideas, you know.
I've been working on,|working on... a comedy act,
for myself and my friend.
It's sort of a musical satire.
You know he's a very good pianist,|and me with the violin...
A lot of very really|really very funny business.
Sit down, my dear.|You look tired.
I've been working with the claque,|going over Calvero's jokes.
I gave them cue sheets so|they'll know exactly where to laugh.
Are the jokes as bad as all that?
I'm worried. If he fails tonight,|it'll kill him. I know it.
He won't fail. The audience|will be most sympathetic.
But he doesn't want sympathy.|He keeps saying that.
He wants to be a genuine success.
What does he expect?|You know he's not the man he was.
He mustn't be told that!
Tell me, my dear,
are you still going to marry him?
I'll do anything in the world|to make him happy.
He's a very lucky man.
He's a very, very lucky man.
I never thought we'd come to this.
Here we have the star dressing room|without a dresser.
Oh well, I guess we can put up|with it for one night.
Fred, the stage manager.
Come in, Fred.
Like old times,|seeing you in this room again.
What's on your mind?
You've got 10 minutes, because|there's 20 other acts to follow.
You're in a song first,|finishing up with a musical act.
I'll ring down|after you fall in the drum.
No, after I'm carried off|in the drum.
Right you are. Thank you, sir.
If anybody else says it's like old|times, I'll jump out the window!
First the doorman,|then the call boy,
now the stage manager.
It's me, Postant.
It's like old times seeing you here|again putting on your war paint.
I'll be down|watching the other acts.
Yes, like old times.|Only in those days you were drunk.
I'm supposed to be funnier|when I'm drunk.
Maybe, but you were killing yourself.
You know, anything for a laugh.|How's the house?
Packed. Every face card in Europe|is out there:
Kings, queens, jacks...
- Is Neville out there?|- Yes. Came up specially.
And what a program!
Take a look at that. Every star|in the business is appearing.
It'll be something,|following all this talent.
Don't worry. Tonight you'll|make them look like amateurs.
That's all any of us are. Amateurs.
We don't live long enough|to be anything else.
Well, as one old amateur|to another...
- Good luck.|- Thank you, Mr. Postant.
How do I look?
I know what you're thinking,|my health and all that.
But I had to take a drink.
There's a creamy white light|turning off and on in my stomach.
And that's not so good,|if I'm to be a success tonight.
Is it really worth it?
Not that I care for success,|but I don't want another failure.
Whatever happens, there's always|that little home in the country.
This is my home. Here.
I thought you hated the theatre.
I do. I also hate the sight of blood|but it's in my veins.
Mr. Calvero, on stage please!
Good luck, sir.|They're all waiting for you.
I don't like it.
Everyone's so kind to me.
Makes me feel isolated.
Even you make me feel isolated.
Why do you say that?
I don't know.
I really don't know.
- Oh, your change.|- No, no.
All right, turn it off up there!
Your change is all ready.
Good luck, my darling.
- Aren't you going to watch?|- I can't.
But remember I love you.
Always. With all my heart.
Ready, Mr. Calvero?
Good luck, my darling.
Let her go!
I'm an animal trainer|A circus entertainer
I've trained animals by the score|Lions, tigers and wild boar
That's not Phyllis!
There she is!
When I was three|My nurse told me
And ever since|I've been convinced
Thrilled with anticipation
That when I leave this earth
It makes my heart feel warm
To know that I'll return
In some other form
But I don't want to be a tree
Sticking in the ground
I'd sooner be a flea
I don't want to be a flower
Waiting by the hour
Hoping for a pollen to alight on me
So when I cease to be
I want to go back|I want to go back to the sea
Oh for the life of a sardine|That is the life for me
Cavorting and spawning|every morning
Under the deep blue sea
To have no fear for storm or gale|Oh to chase the tail of a whale
Oh for the life of a sardine
That is the life for me
You're 3 minutes over!
It's the audience.
Bow and finish.
I've another act to do.
Bow and finish!
What am I to do?
Just finish.|There are 15 other acts to follow.
Look, I've got Postant|on the telephone!
Please, please.|Will you give me a chance?
What's wrong?|Why isn't he doing an encore?
I can't keep the other acts waiting.|They're complaining.
That's your problem.|He does an encore.
Do your encore!
Mmm, you darling!
- Here, take this.|- What is it?
I have a terrific pain|in my back and chest.
Dr. Blake is in the house.|Shall I get him?
Yes, get him at once!
- What's wrong?|- He's hurt his spine.
- Did you send for the doctor?|- Yes.
Then carry him|to his dressing room.
I'll tell the audience|there's been an accident.
No, don't do that!|Carry me on.
I'll talk to them.|You'll ruin the evening.
On behalf of my partner,|and myself...
This is a wonderful evening.
I'd like to continue,|but I'm stuck.
Take off his makeup.
Is there a couch|in his dressing room?
No, but there's one|in the prop room.
Take him in there.
Everyone else must wait outside.
Where's Calvero?|Where is the old scoundrel?
I want to congratulate him.|Where's Calvero?
In the prop room.|He's had an accident.
Here's the doctor now.
I want an ambulance at once.
Is it serious, Doctor?
Very. It isn't his back,|it's a heart attack.
- Is he in pain?|- Not now. I've given him something.
I'm afraid he won't last the night.
What have they been telling you?
Are you all right?
I'm an old weed.
The more I'm cut down,|the more I spring up again.
Did you hear them?
I don't mean the claque.
That's how it used to be.
That's how it's going to be|from now on.
We're going to tour the world.
I've got ideas.
You doing ballet, and me comedy.
And in the elegant melancholy|of twilight,
he will tell you he loves you.
It doesn't matter.|It's you I love.
The heart and the mind...|what an enigma.
Miss Thereza, you're on, please.
I won't be long, my darling.
I believe I'm dying, Doctor.
But then, I don't know.|I've died so many times.
Are you in pain?
Where is she?
I want to see her dance.
Wait a minute.
Bring the couch into the wings.
I must see about that ambulance.
Subtitles: Sionann O'Neill
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Love And Basketball (2000)
Love Dont Cost a Thing
Love In Nepal
Love Undercover 2 (2003 HongKong)
Love is Colder Than Death (1969)
Lover Come Back
Loves of a Blonde - Criterion Collection
Loving You Elvis Presley 1957
Lumber Jerks (1955)
Luna Papa (1999) CD1
Luna Papa (1999) CD2
Lundi Matin 2002 CD1
Lundi Matin 2002 CD2
Lunes al sol Los CD1
Lunes al sol Los CD2
Luthiers grandes hitos Les