Farinelli Page #4

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Let's drink!

Tonight I'd like to have

every woman in the world.

Marvelous!

It's been too long since we shared

a real brotherly meal.

Porpora is overjoyed.

Nobody attended Handel's theater

this evening.

He had to cancel

the performance.

All of London was with us

at the Nobles.

To listen to us, Carlo,

your voice...

and my music!

I love you, Carlo.

And my new opera...

will make history.

It's sh*t!

What?

You heard perfectly well.

Then why all this acclaim?

Are all these people wrong?

Why did they applaud?

What's wrong with you?

You're never satisfied.

All Europe is at our feet.

What more do you want?

What's wrong, Carlo?

Talk to me, Carlo.

Don't worry about a thing.

You were magnificent.

It's completely unnoticeable,

believe me.

Just a tiny tremolo.

So tiny that it only happens

in the very highest appoggiaturas.

Nobody noticed it,

I swear.

I spotted it a while back,

but--

Are you feeling better?

You hear that, Riccardo?

After all, you're not deaf.

You substitute virtuosity

with inspiration.

All those embellishments

and flourishes...

all those adornments...

that you heap on

to your scores!

I invent them for your voice.

Forget about my voice!

I can't.

You know I can't.

I promised our father.

Better think about the music.

It should touch the heart.

Find the true,

essential feeling.

I want your music to rouse

that fragment of the infinite...

that lies asleep

in their bellies.

That's what I ask of you.

Such ingratitude!

What about Orpheus?

Orpheus!

Orpheus doesn't exist.

You'll never finish it.

I don't lack inspiration.

I lack the time!

You take all my time.

All of my time!

Rise, Signor Farinelli.

Permit the Prince of Wales

to pay you homage.

The Nobles Theater

is eternally grateful to you...

for saving its honor,

as well as the honor...

of this country's nobility.

My voice is at the service of music,

Your Highness.

Your voice...

Signor Farinelli...

attracts the most

discerning audiences.

And despite the support

of His Majesty...

you're stealing from Handel

his last remaining listeners.

Not that we're displeased!

What do you mean?

These operas Handel composes

in three weeks...

are an insult

to his audience.

- Who spread this slander?

- Rumors.

Rumors that you stoop

to peddle, sir!

- Have you heard these operas, sir?

- You're joking, young lady.

That would be treason.

We never attend Covent Garden.

I have heard them. They surpass

anything one hears anywhere else.

I can't imagine Handel's work

surpasses Maestro Porpora's work.

Or that of Signor Broschi.

You're an ass, sir.

You don't deserve to have ears!

Long after posterity

has forgotten...

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