Plot
In 1765 something was stalking the mountains of central France. A 'beast' that pounced on humans and animals with terrible ferocity. Indeed they beast became so notorious that the King of France dispatched envoys to find out what was happening and to kill the creature. By the end, the Beast of Gevaudan had killed over 100 people, to this day, no one is entirely sure what it was, wolf? hyena? or something supernatural? Whatever it was, shepherds had the same life-expectancy as the red-suited guys in 'Star Trek'. The Beast is a popular myth in France, albeit one rooted firmly in reality; somewhat surprisingly it is little known to the outside world, and perhaps incredibly it has never been made into a movie. Until now... Based on the true story of the Beast of the Gevaudan that terrorized France in the mid-XVIIIth century, the movie aims to tell first and explain afterwards. In the first part, a special envoy of the King of France, altogether biologist, explorer and philosopher, arrives in the Gevaudan region, in the mountainous central part of France. The Beast has been attacking women and children for months and nobody has quite been able to harm it or even take a good look at it. In the second part, our hero Chevalier de Fronsac will not only have to fight the Beast, but also ignorance, bigotry and conspiracy and will rely on two women, one an aristocrat, the other a prostitute, as well as the enigmatic Mani, an Iroquois he met in New-France (Canada).
Keywords: 1760s, 18th-century, aerial-shot, american-indian, animal-attack, animal-in-title, artistic-imagery, axe, bad-smell, bare-breasts
Jean-Francois de Morangias: So tell me sir, do they speak of the beast in Paris?::Gregoire De Fronsac: Speak of it? They're already singing songs about it.::Geneviève de Morangias: Instead of singing songs, they should be saying prayers.
Jean-Francois de Morangias: Congratulations. If I had both my hands, I'd applaud you.
Jean-Francois de Morangias: You are too late. The beast is immortal.::Gregoire de Fronsac: IT may be immortal, but YOU aren't!
Mani: All women have the same color when the candle is out.
Jean-Francois de Morangias: Ghost or not, I'll split you in two.
Gregoire De Fronsac: [showing the dinner audience the trout with black hair] Salmo truta dermopilla from Canada.
[Examining Jean-Francois's custom-made gun]::Gregoire De Fronsac: A silver bullet? Are you afraid of werewolves?::Jean-Francois de Morangias: I like to sign my shots.
[about Jean-Francois's missing arm]::Gregoire De Fronsac: How did it happen?::Jean-Francois de Morangias: I learned that sometimes one bullet doesn't suffice.
[Sylvia stabs Jean-Francois's dead body]::Capitaine Duhamel: He was dead.::Sylvia: Now it's certain.
Sylvia: Do you know how Florentine women ensure their husbands come home? Every morning they slip him a slow poison, and every evening the antidote. That way, when the husband spends the night away, he has a very bad night.::Gregoire De Fronsac: You needn't resort to that.
Sardis or Sardes (Lydian: Sfard; Greek: Σάρδεις, Sardeis; Persian: سارد, Sārd) was an ancient city at the location of modern Sart (Sartmahmut before 19 October 2005) in Turkey's Manisa Province. Sardis was the capital of the ancient kingdom of Lydia, one of the important cities of the Persian Empire, the seat of a proconsul under the Roman Empire, and the metropolis of the province Lydia in later Roman and Byzantine times. As one of the Seven churches of Asia, it was addressed by the author of the Book of Revelation in terms which seem to imply that its population was notoriously soft and fainthearted. Its importance was due, first to its military strength, secondly to its situation on an important highway leading from the interior to the Aegean coast, and thirdly to its commanding the wide and fertile plain of the Hermus.
Sardis was situated in the middle of Hermus valley, at the foot of Mount Tmolus, a steep and lofty spur which formed the citadel. It was about 4 kilometres (2.5 mi) south of the Hermus. Today, the site is located by the present day village of Sart, near Salihli in the Manisa province of Turkey, close to the Ankara - İzmir highway (approximately 72 kilometres (45 mi) from İzmir). The part of remains including the bath-gymnasium complex, synagogue and Byzantine shops is open to visitors year-round.
Román Díaz (born July 31, 1980 in Moreno, Argentina) is a Argentine footballer currently playing for Club Almirante Brown.
(brooker / reid)
Outside the gates of cerdes sits the two-pronged unicorn
Who plays at relaxation time a rhinestone flugelhorn
Whilst mermaids lace carnations into wreaths for ailing whales
And neptune dances hornpipes while salome sheds her veils
Phallus phil tries peddling his pewter painted pot
But sousa sam can only hear the screams of peep the sot
Who only sips his creme de menthe from terra cotta cups
And exhales menthol scented breath whilst spewing verbiage up
Down technical blind alleys live the wraiths of former dreams
And greeps who often crossed them are no longer what they seem
And even christian scientists can but display marble plaques
Which only retell legends whilst my eyes reach out for facts
(Representa todas las persecuciones que sufrieron los discípulos, y los motines en las cárceles de Carabanchel y Alcalá Meco, al enterarse del asesinato del único que les tendió su mano.)
(Música: Monti)
(Ricardo Koctus)
No fao conta do tempo perdido
Que o tempo s passa
No volta pra trs
No leio as linhas
As linhas so retas
Os versos, poemas
Dilemas so mais
Os contos disfaram
A vida sofrida, corrida
Dos nossos velhos pobres pais
No corto as cordas
Porque sobre elas esto os meus ps
Me admira o cu o limite
Destino, castigo em qualquer lugar
Bendito seja com toda certeza
No h o gente no
Luar como esse do serto
No h gente no
Não faço conta do tempo perdido
Que o tempo só passa
Não volta pra trás
Não leio as linhas
As linhas são retas
Os versos, poemas
Dilemas são mais
Os contos disfarçam
A vida sofrida, corrida
Dos nossos velhos pobres pais
Não corto as cordas
Porque sobre elas estão os meus pés
Me admira o céu é o limite
Destino, castigo em qualquer lugar
Bendito seja com toda certeza
Não há o gente ó não
Luar como esse do sertão
Não há ó gente ó não
Também vida sofrida
You had demons help that night
You stopped my heart
You kept me gasping for breath
There was something there that day
Who dodged my traps
And kept my dogs at bay for you
My way just isn't yours
This is not your crossroads
Gave my soul to someone else
I tried to help you, you spit in my face. I didn't get it then,
but I get it now. You can never get back what you never gave.
You can't lose what you never had.
You shy away from open spaces. You can't stand familiar
faces. I felt so helpless, you felt so bad. Fistfuls of pills
you stole from your dad. All those evenings when I biked by
to wonder if you were still alive. Alone. A recluse.
Of course I was there. If I hadn't been, I couldn't stand myself.
But you just got thinner, into thin air. Where are you?
What's eating you?
Like a vampire faced with daylight, you turned to smoke.
I swear I tried to break every mirror you couldn't see yourself in.
You cut your own throat with the fragments of their reflections.
The world hates you. I hate the world. The world that raped you.
So you might as well take three swords (your favorite spot).
Draw them from their sheathes of stone and drive them straight
into your heart, the same way you drove us apart. Because
with skin and bones, you're still a ghost. Behind facades,
DANGER
IN EVERY CORNER
I HAVE
BECOME PURE WATER
I CAN IDENTIFY
I CLOSE MY EYES
I WEAR MY SWORD
AT MY SIDE
I WEAR MY SWORD
AT MY SIDE
CLEANSE ME
DEEP IN THE FIRE
I HAVE
BECOME PURE WATER
I WEAR MY SWORD
AT MY SIDE
I WEAR MY SWORD
AT MY SIDE
I WEAR MY SWORD
AT MY SIDE
I WEAR MY SWORD
AT MY SIDE
I HAVE BECOME
PURE WATER
I HAVE BECOME
PURE WATER
I HAVE BECOME
This is the sky before you, hope that you can see it.
Still miles to go before you hit the chill stars, start
feeling the cold.
Feed your curiosity, this could be the start of
something new.
Quiet fears in these darker years so we ask for quiet
miracles.
Bored fool, ah you cry for the moon, then you lock
yourself inside at night.
You want to die for all the lonely, this could be your
last adventure,
One big heroic gesture.
But you can't find a music lover and you can't tear the
system down
And you couldn't save the school children on a Saturday
in a small market town.
Sorry to say we are not that ambitious cos we get
scared.
And days can be long and the nights can be vicious when
we get scared.
Now you lie there in your tv chair asleep among your
memories,
I must speak fast before you're lost to the past and
you are lost to me.
I'd say there are monsters beneath your bed
But there's an angel with a hand on your head.
But you can't find a music lover and you can't tear the
system down
And you couldn't save the school children on a Saturday
in a small market town.
Saturday in a small market town.
Representa todas las persecuciones que sufrieron los discípulos, y los motines en las cárceles de Carabanchel y Alcalá Meco, al enterarse del asesinato del único que les tendió su mano.
[Música: Monti]
(Yuri Sanson)
Você não sabe como conseguir
Porque a vida é mais que um querer
E se ao menos eu tivesse você
Do meu lado em um quadro
Gostaria de ver
Porque você não sai de mim
E tudo que faço é pensar em você
E se eu tivesse para viver
A certeza de um dia encontrar você
Gostaria de ter
Você, gostaria
Gostaria
Gostaria