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My Clara
Germany, the 1800s. The true story about one of the world's greatest women pianists, Clara Wieck-Schumann, who risks her fame and fortune in her battle for independence and self-possession from her tyrannical father/maestro in order to marry the love of her life, composer Robert Schumann, whose music embodies the very heart of the romantic era.
Clara is a true artist, an amazing woman, the equivalent of a modern-day rock star in an era that shunned women, especially in the musical profession. At nine years old, Clara triumphs at her first public performance, but being the consummate perfectionist, she bursts into tears despite a standing ovation. "You must never show your emotions, Clara. Never!" instructs Wieck, and throughout her childhood, Clara obeys . . . until the day she meets the flamboyant composer, Robert Schumann, who comes to study under Wieck's tyrannical tutelage and household. Clara and Robert's connection is apparent, but not until many years later does Clara realize her love for Robert . . . after he proposes marriage to her best friend, the beautiful Baroness Ernestine.
Clara charms her way back into Robert's affections, causing him to break his engagement with Ernestine. Upon finding out about the lovers' secret rendezvous, however, Wieck threatens to kill Robert if he and Clara ever speak again. In the shadows of the moonlight, Robert stands alone for hours listening to her play, hoping to get a glimpse of his lost love in the lamplight of an open doorway. Without anyone else to turn to, the desperate Clara seeks out her mother, whom she thinks abandoned her when she was five years old. It is only then that her mother admits Wieck took her to court to win Clara as "his prize," his pawn in a self-serving game of fame and fortune.
Clara's growing melancholia threatens Wieck's mission for glory. He promises to give his blessings of marriage if Robert proves a success in Vienna, but the pressure spins Robert into such a manic, depressed state that he must rely on Clara's strength even more to succeed. With Chopin's masterful performance of his composition and the endorsement of the aristocrats, Robert comes back to Leipzig, a success, only to find that Wieck tears up their written agreement. And so, the lovers' illustrious circle of friends--including Chopin, Liszt, and Mendelssohn--mastermind a grand scheme of reunion, only to find that Wieck relies on the court once again, legally prohibiting their marriage.
The strong-willed Clara is furious, and despite Wieck's threats of taking her life's earnings and belongings, including her piano, she embarks on a concert tour in Europe, alone, acting as both performer and promoter. She makes enough money to challenge Wieck in court, and after two battles, Clara and Robert prove victorious.
Fourteen years later (1856), however, their commitment is tested again when Robert attempts suicide by jumping off a bridge into the Rhine. He is admitted into an insane asylum, and, for two years, Clara is prohibited from seeing her husband. Despite Brahms's attempts to win her affections, Clara stays true to Robert. She receives a telegram from the doctors summoning her to the asylum, with the warning that he will not recognize her. Robert, now frail and senile, envelopes his beloved in his trembling arms and whispers: "My Clara . . . I know you." Schumann dies peacefully just 48 hours after Clara's arrival. She is comforted only by the thought that, through their music, their spirits will be united forever.
* * *
FADE IN:
Ext. Church--Schoenfeld--Present 1856--Day
Subtitles: Germany. Late Summer, 1856.
A funeral procession winds around a small, white countryside church. Flocked by eight children, a striking woman, CLARA SCHUMANN, 37, with ivory skin, dark eyes and hair, trails behind an ornate casket. Choral music fills the air.
The yellowing leaves on the trees crinkle in the breeze, and CLARA looks up at the swaying branch.
CLARA
A dramatic chord sustains as the processional stops at the grave site.
CLARA (cont'd)
CLARA catches the eye of an elderly MAN with slumped shoulders. He trails behind the end of the long train of people. A faint whistle blows in the distance.
Ext. Train--Dawn
A steam train, silhouetted against the lush European mountains, clatters over a tall, wooden bridge. The whistle grows louder.
Int. Train--Dawn
Subtitles: A week earlier.
CLARA gazes out the open window to the roiling river far below when a plump, jolly woman, GRETCHEN LOCKHART, squeezes into the first-class compartment. She is accompanied by her ladylike daughter, MARTHA, 5.
GRETCHEN
Frau Schumann? Frau Schumann!
CLARA puts on her game face, genuine yet enigmatic.
GRETCHEN (cont'd)
I do not mean to disturb you, but . . .
CLARA
Not at all. Please come in.
CLARA is thoroughly amused by GRETCHEN's enthusiasm and girth as she extends her hand.
GRETCHEN
Gretchen Lockhart. My husband and I are enormous music lovers.
(laughs heartily)
Of course, we can hardly whistle a tune between us. But, how we do adore your fine concerts. In fact, we saw you perform twice in Vienna last fall. Such a breathtaking program--one of your compositions, the "Soirees Opus Six" and Herr . . .
Suddenly, the train lurches, sending GRETCHEN's imposing bosoms into CLARA's face.
GRETCHEN (cont'd)
Oh dear, how clumsy of me.
Laughing nervously, GRETCHEN adjusts her brassiere while MARTHA hides in embarrassment behind her mother's skirt.
GRETCHEN (cont'd)
My daughter is learning one of your husband's pieces.
(nudging)
MARTHA . . .
MARTHA curtsies.
MARTHA
"Kindergarten!"
GRETCHEN
Would it be an imposition to request your autograph?
GRETCHEN nods to MARTHA, who immediately takes the sheet music from her bag and hands it to CLARA.
Insert of the title page: Kindergarten by Robert Schumann.
GRETCHEN (cont'd)
Is Herr Schumann on tour conducting?
CLARA
Actually . . .
CLARA's eyes twitch.
CLARA (cont'd)
I am on my way to see him.
CONDUCTOR
CLARA hands MARTHA the manuscript.
CLARA
How old are you?
MARTHA
Five.
CLARA
The same age as I when I began studying.
MARTHA smiles proudly. The train stops abruptly, and again, GRETCHEN topples on top of CLARA.
GRETCHEN
Oh dear, this train can be quite hazardous!
CONDUCTOR
GRETCHEN
We'd better find our seats. Pleasant journey to you . . .
CLARA forces a smile as they exit.
GRETCHEN (cont'd)
And send our regards to Herr Schumann!
CLARA looks down at a beautiful book containing exotic, pressed flowers. The lines around her heavy eyes become deeper, as she squints to read.
Insert Gold Inscription: The Book of Remembrance. 1856. The page reads: "Clara, To press a flower from every city in which you stay--from your beloved."
CLARA
CLARA caresses the delicate petals of a white rose when the wind, as if it were a gentle spirit, sweeps them from her long, slender fingers.
CLARA (cont'd)
(beat) But this . . . this is the story of our youth.
The white petals fill the screen.
Ext. Cobblestone Street--Flashback 1824--Morning
Subtitles: 1824.
A glistening light shines through the petals, revealing their transformation into delicate snowflakes. They fall to the charming snow-covered village.
Ext./Int. Tromlitz Home--Clara's Bedroom--Morning
Through the gabled window, the same dark eyes belonging to CLARA, 5, follow the snowflakes to the ground. CLARA's mother, MARIANNE TROMLITZ, late 20s, attractive yet worn, fights back tears as she places small, beautiful dresses into three weathered suitcases that lie on the four-poster bed.
A Doorbell. MARIANNE stuffs a thick wool coat into the last case, then closes it.
MARIANNE
I packed your favorite winter coat for the harsher winter months.
She looks to CLARA, whose black, wavy hair reaches the small of her back. CLARA stands perfectly still, staring out the window.
MARIANNE (cont'd)
Clara, Clara . . .
MARIANNE puts her arms around CLARA's shoulders and turns her around so that they're facing each other.
MARIANNE (cont'd)
(strokes her hair)
Be a good girl and fix your hair for mother. You know the way we like it.
MARIANNE gives her a copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales.
MARIANNE (cont'd)
I had wished to read this to you. If you get lonely, open it and think of me, yes? You must never forget what lies in your heart, my darling. No one can ever take that away from you.
MARIANNE nods, and mimicking her, CLARA does the same, slowly.
Int. Carriage--Morning
A single tear streams down CLARA's otherwise stoic face as she focuses on MARIANNE, who recedes further and further into the past.
The carriage turns the corner, and through the window glass, the slight figure of MARIANNE is replaced by the distorted reflection of the severe face of the MAN (the same MAN from the funeral, now 32 years younger). FRIEDRICH WIECK is an ominous presence, in his 40s, sunken cheeks, hard jawline, tall, dressed in black.
WIECK
We shall begin our music lessons at once, followed by two hours of practice . . .
WIECK's strict voice echoes as CLARA watches girls her own age lying on their backs, making angels in the snow.
Int. WIECK' s Home--Piano Room--Day/Night--Montage
A metronome accelerates with each action.
With perfect posture, CLARA reads from Czerny's Pianoforte Studies and plays scales at the same polished piano.
WIECK
CLARA's eyes are fixated on WIECK and the math equations he writes on the blackboard.
WIECK (cont'd)
At sunset, CLARA struggles to keep up with WIECK's long, military-like strides.
WIECK (cont'd)
The metronome swings faster and faster as arpeggios accelerate up and down the keyboard.
Int. Wieck's Home--CLARA's Bedroom--1828--Night
The reflection of the mirror reveals CLARA wearing the same look of determination, now age 9. To the light of a lone candle, she methodically brushes her hair with one hand and holds Grimm's Fairy Tales in the other.
CLARA
93 . . . 94 . . . 95 . . .
A light KNOCK. CLARA, consumed with her evening ritual, does not respond. Johanna Strobel, better known to CLARA as NANNY, enters with two adorable boys, ALWIN, 7, and GUSTAV, 5.
NANNY
Clara?
CLARA
96 . . . 97 . . . 98 . . .
ALWIN/GUSTAV/CLARA
99 . . . 100!
NANNY
Oh, my little liebchen of so few words, sometimes I think the piano has become your only voice.
ALWIN
Then it seems to me she talks too much--endless scales, arpeggios, exercises. Annoying.
CLARA tosses ALWIN onto the bed and tickles him.
CLARA
Alwin, you do know that I am here for the sole purpose of torturing you, do you not?
This strikes a fearful chord in ALWIN.
ALWIN
Will you help me with my trills tomorrow? Father says they must be timed, um . . .
(imitates WIECK's gruffness)
Like the marching of an army!
CLARA
The metronome will be of help. It still takes me a good deal of practicing to perfect them myself.
NANNY
Time to say good night, boys.
GUSTAV tugs at NANNY's skirt.
GUSTAV
But Nanny . . .
NANNY
Oh yes, it seems I have forgotten . . .
NANNY grabs a basket from behind the door, and GUSTAV pulls out a golden ball of fur.
GUSTAV
We asked Papa!
Relieved, CLARA hugs GUSTAV.
GUSTAV (cont'd)
What will you name her?
CLARA
Rubato!
ALWIN
Rubato?
CLARA
Did you not study your musical terms?
ALWIN looks sheepish.
CLARA
It means to take the tempo from one note and give it to the other, just as you and Gustav have done for me.
NANNY plumps CLARA's pillow and tucks her into bed. CLARA embraces her tightly.
CLARA (cont'd)
You will never leave me, will you, Nanny?
NANNY
Never.
NANNY kisses CLARA's forehead.
Int. Heidelberg Castle--Ballroom--Night
The lips of a BLACK HALF MASK gently pull away from a delicate, white-gloved hand. The young man pulls the mask to his forehead, revealing the flamboyantly dressed ROBERT SCHUMANN, 18, boyishly handsome with blue eyes and golden brown hair. He kneels at the feet of a pretty YOUNG WOMAN.
ROBERT
Enchanted.
ROBERT extends his own gloved hand.
ROBERT (cont'd)
May I?
Before the woman answers, ROBERT sweeps her into his arms, and they waltz under every chandelier.
Ext. Balcony--Later That Evening
Swaying precariously from a chair, ROBERT's unsteady left hand holds a freshly inked, cloth napkin while the other holds a champagne glass. With his elbow, he balances himself by leaning on the bald head of his portly best friend, ERNST BECKER.
ROBERT
Goethe has much to fear, the great poet, Robert Schumann, is here.
Myriad drunken classmates gather at his heels.
HECKLER #1
You could never compete with our hero, except maybe by riding a wine cask of your own tonight!
The group laughs, and ERNST shakes his head.
HECKLER #2
Hero? You mean our God!
ROBERT
Before I depart from this cruel world, I vow to translate the words of the holy one's masterpiece, the great Faust, into such a configuration of notes that the world will be astonished by its beauty!
ROBERT spies the same YOUNG WOMAN on the balcony and clears his throat.
ROBERT (cont'd)
(recites dramatically)
You glide past me with an angel's grace
Capture my soul with an angel's face.
Transfixed I stand, I dare not breathe
Without your love, I must not leave.
Come forth to me with all your charms
And find true passion within my arms.
He falls off the chair and dances to her. Kneeling on one knee, he wraps his hands around her legs--his head in a provocative position at the top of her thighs.
ROBERT (cont'd)
Your beauty inspired me.
Furious, she removes her mask to reveal . . . AN OLDER VERSION OF THE YOUNG WOMAN dressed in the same costume. She slaps Robert across the face.
OLD WOMAN
How dare you insult my daughter!
ROBERT mumbles to himself, his ego crushed. His friends laugh, and ERNST takes him aside.
ERNST
Your passion for poetry and music never ceases to amaze me . . .
(chuckles)
And, someday, may even get you killed!
The chamber orchestra begins another waltz. They don their masks and stumble into the ballroom.
Int. Wieck's Home--Piano Room--Night
CLARA,in a formal gown, plays the same waltz over the grand piano. The instant WIECK enters, she stops.
WIECK
Continue. You mustn't jeopardize our success.
She proceeds with perfect posture and precision. WIECK rests his hand on her shoulder.
WIECK (cont'd)
You are my prize.
CLARA smiles proudly.
WIECK (cont'd)
Now I must be going to play the aristocracy. The selection of their seat assignments is nearly as important as your performance.
CLARA
I shall not disappoint you. My only concern is the touch of the keys.
WIECK
I've arranged for a piano from Vienna, my dear. The latest model by J. Andreas Stein.
WIECK walks toward the door.
WIECK (cont'd)
(shouts out)
The coach will pick you up at seven, sharp. Wait inside the vestibule.
Ext. Carriage--Night
The Carriage Travels Down A Dirt Road, Past A Large Pond.
Int. Carriage--Night
Half a dozen giggling YOUNG GIRLS in plain dresses play a game(a la patty-cake) while CLARA looks on with envy. A plump GIRL turns to her.
GIRL #1
Want to play?
CLARA
Oh, yes please.
GIRL #1
Alright then, you start.
CLARA looks at the expectant eyes and turns away shyly.
GIRL #2
Go on.
CLARA
Why don't you . . .
The GIRLS take their cue and start without her. CLARA joins in, but within moments, her normally dexterous hands become entangled.
GIRL #2
You have no rhythm whatsoever!
GIRL #1
Just watch this time. You'll catch on.
CLARA, embarrassed, stares out the window. Her face becomes more and more concerned as the carriage moves away from the city lights.
CLARA
(to GIRL #1)
Pardon me, do you know if we are near the Gewandhaus?
GIRL #1
Is it in Eutritzsch?
GIRL #2
My parents are attending this evening. A girl my age is performing.
CLARA pulls out a pocket watch, then makes her way to the seat directly behind the DRIVER.
CLARA
Sir, my concert begins in half an hour!
DRIVER #1
Concert, Miss?
CLARA
At the Gewandhaus!
The girls gasp.
DRIVER #1
But this carriage is headed for the country dance.
CLARA
Impossible. The Maestro specifically arranged for this coach.
CLARA's eyes fill with tears.
CLARA (cont'd)
Please, everything must be perfect, just as he has planned it.
DRIVER #1
You are Clara, the porter's daughter?
CLARA
Yes, Clara . . . but I am . . . no, no sir, not the porter's daughter!
The DRIVER snaps the reins, while CLARA rapidly moves her fingers on the tops of her legs as if playing a piece over the keys. Two filled carriages pass, when finally, the DRIVER spots an empty one and waves his arms.
DRIVER
Halt! Please, halt!
(grabs CLARA's hand)
Come.
CLARA jumps off the highest step.
Int. Gewandhaus--Backstage--Night
WIECK and the stodgy CONCERT HALL MANAGER survey the sold-out audience. CLEMENTINE FECHNER, a homely lady with a bump on her protruding nose, early 20s, stands next to EMILIE, 8, American, beyond her years.
WIECK
Fifty percent of the gross receipts.
CONCERT HALL MANAGER
Thirty of the net.
WIECK
Forty.
CONCERT HALL MANAGER
Thirty-five. I never give more to first-time performers, especially a girl.
WIECK paces the floor.
WIECK
Preposterous. Clara will be the next Franz Liszt, I guarantee it.
CONCERT HALL MANAGER
Your reputation precedes you, but your manners are another matter altogether.
(extends his hand to CLEMENTINE)
You are . . . ?
CLEMENTINE
Clementine. Clementine Fechner. Pleased to meet you. Friedrich is honored, to say the least, that you have finally agreed to put Clara on the program.
WIECK
(embarrassed)
My fiancee.
CONCERT HALL MANAGER
Well, Maestro Wieck, I see that a womanly presence may become you after all these years . . .
(biting)
Yet, still, we have one itty bitty problem . . . No performer! Perhaps you would like to play a few melodies for our patrons?
WIECK runs his hands through his hair, his brow instantly clammy. Squirming in his suit, he reaches for his watch. CLEMENTINE strokes his shoulder, and WIECK immediately pushes her away.
Ext. Gewandhaus--Night
Outside, the entrance of the concert hall is lined with horse-drawn carriages. CLARA runs past the fountain, then turns the corner to the back.
Int. Gewandhaus--Backstage--Night--Continuous
CONCERT HALL MANAGER
Thirty-five. My final offer. Besides, it looks as if it will be zero for both of us.
CLARA bursts through the backstage door and spots . . .
CLARA
Emilie!
EMILIE rushes from the wings to give her a hug. Upon seeing WIECK, CLARA wipes the tears from her eyes.
WIECK
Did we not have a promise?
CLARA
But the wrong carriage . . .
WIECK peeks through the velvet curtain at the impatient audience, then notices CLARA's heavy breathing. He draws her near.
WIECK
(fixing her hair)
I had quite forgotten to tell you, my little Clarchen, everyone is carried off by strangers before playing for the first time in public.
CONCERT HALL MANAGER
Curtain time. Please.
WIECK
You will be perfect. Remember, the duet first, then your solo. Ready?
CLARA straightens her dress, then reaches for EMILIE's hand. They disappear behind the heavy curtain.
Int. Gewandhaus--On Stage--Night
CLARA and EMILIE play the final chords of the "Variations of Kalkbrenner." The audience claps enthusiastically. The girls bow, interlock their hands, and race to the wings.
Int. Gewandhaus--Backstage--Night
CLARA
(to EMILIE)
Well done!(re: CLEMENTINE) Even Frau Bumpenstein seemed to approve!
The two girls burst into laughter, as WIECK sneaks up behind them.
WIECK
Now, Clara.
EMILIE squeezes CLARA's hand.
EMILIE
You'll be brilliant.
CLARA gathers her composure.
Int. Gewandhaus--On Stage--Night
WIECK escorts CLARA to the piano.
WIECK
Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending our fine program. The next piece is Mozart's "Piano Concerto in E-flat," accompanied by our very own ensemble of the Gewandhaus.
(to orchestra)
We are honored.
The violinist nods, then taps the music stand.
Dissolve to:
With WIECK as her page turner, CLARA plays the last movement with her eyes closed. Her body sways to the rhythm in a passionate motion when suddenly, she opens her eyes and searches the sheet music. With perfect technique, CLARA's passion becomes bombastic, as she dramatically plays a chromatic scale leading to the final chord. The audience rises to its feet in a standing ovation, but the protégé looks down and bursts into tears.
CLARA
(blurts out)
How could you clap for me?!
The audience is perplexed. WIECK rushes her backstage.
Int. Gewandhaus--Backstage--Night
WIECK
You must never show your emotions, Clara. Never! Do you understand?
CLARA
But I should have played much better!
WIECK
Indeed, you did seem to get overly excited, but only you and I would have noticed. Remember Czerny's letter from our studies, warning all the young girls of the "run-away pony?"
CLARA
But my fingers wouldn't stop.
WIECK
Always strive for perfection. I have taught you only this. But never reveal to our patrons your self-criticism or weaknesses again. Do you understand?
CLARA wipes her tears and nods.
WIECK (cont'd)
Good.
(motions CLARA)
Come.
CLARA approaches tentatively, and WIECK hugs her close.
Int. Wieck's Home--CLARA's Bedroom--Night
CLARA meticulously writes a letter.
CLARA
Int. Tromlitz Home--Study--Night
By the firelight, MARIANNE strains to read the letter.
CLARA
She tenderly places it into a decorated box, half-filled with letters of the like, their wax seals broken.
Int. Wieck's Home--CLARA's Bedroom--Night
CLARA begins an entry into her diary, struggling to fill the pages.
CLARA
Dear Diary, The maestro accuses me of a certain jealous . . .
(pronounces slowly)
dis-po . . .
Angle wider to see WIECK hovering over her shoulder, dictating her entry as if her alter-ego.
WIECK
Disposition.
CLARA
(repeats) Dis-po-si-tion.
WIECK
And child sensitiveness . . .
Sitting upright, CLARA writes slowly, making sure every word is spelled perfectly. She wears a look of concern.
CLARA
And child . . .
WIECK
Sensitiveness . . . and a curious . . .
CLARA
Sen-si-tive . . .
WIECK
Sensitiveness. Sensitiveness!
WIECK grabs the diary and pen from her hands and finishes the entry himself.
WIECK (cont'd)
. . . and a curious inclination never to enjoy the present time or present possessions.
As he slaps the diary closed, CLARA's eyes twitch.
WIECK (cont'd)
I think we have completed enough for this evening. We have a big day ahead of us. Good night, Clara.
CLARA
Good night, Father.
All rights reserved. Comments. Last modified Wed, Dec 18, 2002.