EXT. VIA ROMANA - HILLS ABOVE FLORENCE, ITALY - EVENING
SUPERIMPOSE: 1564
Wooden cartwheels trundle along a rocky road lined with
vineyards and olive groves. Two DRIVERS (20-30s), faces wind-
burned and weary, huddle beneath threadbare cloaks.
DRIVER ONE
Jesus, Mary, Joseph. If I live to
be forty I'll never forget this trip.
They crest a hill. Brunelleschi's dome and Giotto's campanile
rise above the sea of terracotta roofs with Florence's wall.
The Second Driver CRACKS the reigns. The horse raises its
head, returns to its weary plod.
SECOND DRIVER
Enough grumbling. There's the Duomo.
We'll sleep in our own beds tonight.
DRIVER ONE
Not a day too soon. Three wretched
weeks we've hauled this poor soul.
IN THE WAGON - a GUST lifts the sack cloth, reveals a plain
Pine coffin. The cart JOLTS. The coffin SHIFTS.
Driver Two looks back, SPITS. Driver One pulls his hat down
low, rubs his hands briskly, leans into the WIND.
DRIVER ONE (CONT'D)
In Rome, the rumor was this coffin
held a great artist.
DRIVER TWO
Great enough we had to smuggle him
out like thieves in the night. Pope's
men would have our heads if they
knew.
DRIVER ONE
What pride demands a corpse travel
farther than most do in a lifetime?
SECOND DRIVER
Vain, idiot bankers. That's who.
But as long as we get paid-
DRIVER ONE
I hope it stinks to high heaven when
they open it.
Both men CACKLE. Church bells TOLL in the distance as the
wagon winds toward Florence's Porta Romana.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
The Unveiling of Secrets
INT. PALAZZO VECCHIO - FLORENCE - NIGHT
A grand room lit by torches mounted on stone walls. A GROUP
OF BANKERS huddle around the fireplace.
TO THE SIDE
COSIMO DE MEDICI (45) stocky, authoritative, huddles with
LUIGI CAPPONI (42) and BERNARDO SALVIATI (56), dignified, in
attire befitting bankers.
BERNARDO SALVIATI
(sotto)
Cosimo, surely you don't intend to
go through with this in public?
COSIMO DE MEDICI
The people will demand it.
LUIGI CAPPONI
But a rotting corpse!
COSIMO DE MEDICI
Duty must triumph fear, Luigi. The
man in that coffin possessed divine
powers.
Capponi SCOFFS. Cosimo looks around to ensure nobody is
listening. He gestures his companions to come closer.
COSIMO DE MEDICI (CONT'D)
My father told me about a mystery
school founded by my great, great,
grandfather Cosimo.
LUIGI CAPPONI
A mystery school?
COSIMO DE MEDICI
It was fashioned after the sacred
Academy of Plato. Of all the
philosophers, artists, and diplomats
in our employ over the decades, only
seven were chosen at any one time.
All were sworn to secrecy.
BERNARDO SALVIATI
Why was it secret?
LUIGI CAPPONI
What were they protecting?
COSIMO DE MEDICI
(lowers his voice)
Great powers that could be used for
evil in the wrong hands.
LUIGI CAPPONI
Surely you jest. What on earth could
be so powerful?
COSIMO DE MEDICI
Egyptian secrets of the dead that
enable a person to transcend time.
Salviati and Capponi exchange skeptical looks.
COSIMO DE MEDICI (CONT'D)
My father said only one man mastered
those teachings.
A HERALD runs into the room, approaches Cosimo.
HERALD
My Lord, the coffin arrives within
the hour.
Cosimo walks to the center of the room, raises his arms.
COSIMO DE MEDICI
My esteemed friends. The hour draws
nigh. Our beloved son will soon be
home. The crowd demands we open the
coffin.
Bankers MURMURING. A BANKER steps forward.
BANKER
But Cosimo, he's been dead a month.
Cosimo holds up a gold Florin. It glints in the torchlight.
COSIMO DE MEDICI
My friends, you have built our florin
into the world's gold standard. All
Europe bows to our financial prowess.
And with more than eighty banks,
rightly so, but the people of Florence
revere art as life's greatest gift,
not money.
As Cosimo turns to survey his audience, behind him the walls
reveal paintings by Massacio, Botticelli, and Raphael.
COSIMO DE MEDICI (CONT'D)
Gentlemen, though that coffin holds
but flesh and bone, therein lies an
immortal genius.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
A Claim for Michelangelo
EXT. VIA ROMANA - HILLSIDE ABOVE FLORENCE - NIGHT
The wagon creaks its way downhill toward Florence. The wind
has died. In the distance torches light up the massive gate
of Porta Romana.
SECOND DRIVER
Didn't expect a welcome party at
this hour.
REVEAL - PORTA ROMANA (SOUTHERN GATE)
The torchlit FIGURES of the Accademia e Compagnia delle Arti
del Disegno, led by GIORGIO VASARI (53) commanding in bearing,
wait in rich cloaks and fine wool.
SECOND DRIVER (CONT'D)
No ordinary welcome committee, that.
EXT. PORTA ROMANA - FLORENCE - NIGHT
Driver One pulls back on the reins, eyes the assembled artists:
BENVENUTO CELLINI (63), fierce-eyed; AGNOLO BRONZINO (61),
reserved and dignified; BARTOLOMEO AMMANNATI (53), stoic; and
FRANCESCO DA SANGALLO (70), grave with emotion.
Vasari steps forward, torchlight catching gold on his cloak.
VASARI
In the name of Duke Cosimo and by
vote of the Accademia, we claim
Michelangelo Buonarroti.
CELLINI
Roma would keep him? Bah! He speaks
our tongue, even in death.
The Artists fall into formation, lead the wagon by torchlight
through
STREETS OF FLORENCE - NIGHT
Church BELLS TOLL. CITIZENS emerge with candles. The procession
grows.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
A Night of Reverence: Honoring Michelangelo
EXT. PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA - NIGHT
Torchlight plays across Michelangelo's David - the young hero's
eyes forever fixed toward Rome in silent challenge.
Cosimo emerges from the Palazzo Vecchio. He descends the steps.
The Crowd parts before him as the procession halts beneath
David.
Vasari, the Artists behind him, moves to Cosimo's side. He's
joined by Luigi Capponi and Bernardo Salviati.
Vasari reveals the humble Pine coffin.
VASARI
Even in death, he defies Roman pomp
with Florentine simplicity.
COSIMO DE MEDICI
Then let us match his dignity.
(voice carrying across
the hushed crowd)
Citizens of Florence! Look up!
David stands eternal guard, watching
as its master returns to us at last.
Bronzino and Ammannati work the coffin's seals. Cosimo nods.
COSIMO DE MEDICI (CONT'D)
Here lies Il Divino. He who gave
our city its greatest works, its
highest glory. In life, he carved
the very soul of Florence in marble.
In death, he returns to the mother
who birthed his genius.
As they lift the lid, the Crowd holds its breath. A soft GLOW
emanates from within.
COSIMO DE MEDICI (CONT'D)
Let Florence look upon her son, Il
Divino, one final time.
Capponi and Salviati step forward, handkerchiefs to their
noses in anticipation of the stench of a rotting corpse.
They peer into the coffin, lower the handkerchiefs. Salviati
falls to his knees.
LUIGI CAPPONI
(crossing himself)
Mother of God.
Cosimo, vindicated, meets Capponi's eyes. Capponi lowers his
gaze.
The Crowd leans in. GASPS ripple across the piazza.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Dreams in the Shadow of David
EXT. PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA - FLORENCE, ITALY - EVENING
SUPERIMPOSE: 1489
The sun's last rays light up Donatello's bronze David.
MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI (13) and FRANCESCO GRANACCI (17) huddle
in the statue's shadow. Francesco, watchful, slips a leather
satchel to Michelangelo.
FRANCESCO
By the Holy Virgin, if Master
Ghirlandaio discovers I've given you
his drawings, I'll be scrubbing
pigments until judgment day.
MICHELANGELO
Your secret's safe with me, old
friend. Though I must say, you look
like a man trading holy secrets rather
than sketching papers.
FRANCESCO
(laughing nervously)
How long do you need them?
MICHELANGELO
Four, five days at most. On the
farm, I traced designs until my
fingers were numb. Now Mercury
himself guides my hand.
FRANCESCO
Your talent isn't in question, Mica.
But convincing your father? You'd
have better luck persuading the Pope
to dance in the streets.
MICHELANGELO
Trust me Francesco, if the
Ghirlandaios accept me as an
apprentice, I'll persuade father.
Francesco reaches deeper into the satchel.
FRANCESCO
I brought something else. An
engraving from a German printmaker,
a gesso board, tempera and brushes.
Show them what you can do with color.
MICHELANGELO
You risk much for me, my friend.
FRANCESCO
You lack experience Mica, but your
determination-
MICHELANGELO
Anything to escape a banker's life.
FRANCESCO
A fate worse than purgatory! You'd
get rich, but your soul would be as
dry as last week's bread.
MICHELANGELO
What a tragedy.
FRANCESCO
I love you, Mica. Most boys dream
of counting florins, but you dream
of making beauty immortal.
MICHELANGELO
Ha. One day we'll stand here, gray
and wrinkled, and laugh about tonight.
FRANCESCO
Don't come to the studio too soon.
MICHELANGELO
I'll need three weeks at least.
Time enough to wear down father's
resistance. Say a Hail Mary for me
Francesco.
FRANCESCO
A Hail Mary? An entire rosary is
more like it.
Their LAUGHTER echoes as they look up at the darkening sky.
The first stars shine like drops of paint on God's own canvas.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Destiny in the Studio
INT. GHIRLANDAIO ART STUDIO - OFFICES - FLORENCE - AFTERNOON
Organized chaos: leather-bound books in towers, sketches pinned
on walls, clay models arranged like sentinels.
DOMENICO GHIRLANDAIO (40) studies a sketch on a wall, fingers
unconsciously tracing his workshop's seal on his gold ring.
LORENZO DE MEDICI (40) settles in a chair, fur-trimmed robes
a contrast to Domenico's simple wool garments.
THROUGH THE DOORWAY, STUDENTS bend over their work like monks
at prayer. Domenico adjusts the sketch on the wall.
DOMENICO
The light in here. Sometimes I think
God mocks our efforts to capture it.
LORENZO
Speaking of capturing things, I was
at the Signoria this morning.
DOMENICO
Ah, admiring Donatello's David?
LORENZO
Can you believe it's been twenty-two
since we lost him? Now our sculptors
chisel nothing but doors and window
frames.
DOMENICO
While Rome's workshops overflow.
LORENZO
Precisely, my good man. So, to remedy
the situation, I have a proposal.
Lorenzo rises, moves to the open doorway, surveys the Students.
ART STUDIO
Michelangelo hunches over, sketching with rapid strokes.
Through the fringe of his hair, he watches Lorenzo. Francesco
reaches over, slows Michelangelo's hand.
MICHELANGELO
(sotto)
What do you think they're talking
about?
FRANCESCO
Il Magnifico doesn't visit studios
to admire the paint bins.
Michelangelo's charcoal snaps. He reaches for another.
FRANCESCO (CONT'D)
That's your fifth today. Keep
breaking them and you'll be carving
your own from tree branches.
MICHELANGELO
Better than drawing leaves and flowers
for another year.
(nods towards Lorenzo)
He built an entire palace without a
single cherub on the walls.
FRANCESCO
Keep your head down. Dreams of
palaces won't help if you're thrown
out for insolence.
Michelangelo lowers his head, but his hand betrays him. He's
sketching the muscled arm of Donatello's David. Francesco
slides a sheet of paper over the drawing before anyone notices.
OFFICE
Lorenzo smiles, turns back to Domenico.
LORENZO
I have a garden near San Marco.
Domenico's eyebrow lifts slightly, masking his interest.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
It needs filling.
DOMENICO
With sculptures or sculptors?
LORENZO
Both. What would it take for two of
your apprentices?
DOMENICO
Your church in Pisa has bare walls.
LORENZO
The main altar does lack your
particular touch.
Lorenzo puts his arm around Domenico's shoulder.
DOMENICO
My lord, you are too generous. Come,
let us waste no time.
Both Men gaze toward the Students at work.
ART STUDIO
DOMENICO (CONT'D)
My esteemed colleagues, come, come.
The gentleman at my side needs no
introduction. I am delighted to
inform you that Il Magnifico, Lorenzo
de Medici, is opening a sculpture
academy. He has asked for two of
you to join his new school.
The eager Students gather around a table. Domenico hands out
pieces of paper.
DOMENICO (CONT'D)
Please, gentlemen, write your name
and why you should be selected.
MOMENTS LATER
Two dozen Students scramble to drop applications into a bowl.
When the last is submitted, Domenico and Lorenzo retire to
OFFICE
DOMENICO (CONT'D)
(closing the door)
Return to your work. We'll announce
the decision before vespers.
Lorenzo sits as Domenico places the bowl on the table.
LORENZO
That's quite a response, Domenico.
Such enthusiasm.
DOMENICO
It's your reputation. I suspect few
have an aptitude for sculpture, rather
they desire a relationship with you.
LORENZO
Let's eliminate those you deem
unqualified.
Domenico quickly sorts the papers into two piles. He sweeps
one pile onto the floor. He goes through the remaining papers,
studies each one. Finally, four remain on the table.
DOMENICO
These are the most qualified.
Domenico's face grimaces as he reviews an application.
DOMENICO (CONT'D)
Antonio Rossi. Been here seven years,
has a steady hand, discipline. A
promising painter.
(reading another
application)
Gabriele Barone, another talented
painter. Excellent technician.
He's worked in my studio 12 years.
It would be a pity to lose him.
(MORE)
DOMENICO (CONT'D)
(shaking his head)
Matteo Cavalcanti. A natural artist
with a perfect sense of proportion.
Been here five years. Keeps everyone
laughing with his quick wit.
Domenico SIGHS. At the last application, his face lights up.
DOMENICO (CONT'D)
Ah, Michelangelo Buonarroti, a simple
boy who can barely write. He's been
with us one year. Refuses to read
and I'm beginning to think he can't.
Since the day he arrived, he's said
he wants to be a sculptor.
LORENZO
You prefer to keep the first three?
Lorenzo examines the applications, three written in Latin.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
A sense of proportion is important.
As we all know, humor is a gift from
Hermes. Matteo says he wants to
"glorify God, my family, and his
mother." I'll select him. As to
the other-
(reading)
"Destiny." Destiny?
DOMENICO
He is Ludovico Buonarroti's son. He
spent six years on a farm with a
stonemason who taught him
sophisticated carving skills.
LORENZO
His father is a distant relative of
my wife, may she rest in peace. How
can you judge his talent after only
one year? Aren't first year
apprentices restricted to cleaning
brushes and sweeping the floor?
DOMENICO
He finishes a week's work in a day
then begs for more. When he draws-
(hesitates)
I've never seen anything like it.
LORENZO
Well, then. I've decided. Thank
you, Domenico.
ART STUDIO
Golden light streams through the windows. The eager Students
gather. Michelangelo stands slightly apart.
DOMENICO
Matteo Cavalcanti.
CHEERS and backslapping. MATTEO CAVALCANTI (17) beams.
DOMENICO (CONT'D)
And-
(a weighted pause)
Michelangelo Buonarroti.
Silence. Michelangelo doesn't move. Francesco nudges him.
Michelangelo's face is a mask of control that can't hide the
fire in his eyes. He steps forward.
LORENZO
You wrote "Destiny."
MICHELANGELO
Yes, Il Magnifico.
LORENZO
Why only one word?
MICHELANGELO
Because it's the only one that
matters.
A MURMUR ripples through the Students. Domenico's eyes widen
at the boldness, but Lorenzo's breaks into a smile.
LORENZO
The garden of San Marco awaits you
two tomorrow at dawn.
(to Michelangelo)
Bring your charcoal. All of it.
Michelangelo glances at his charcoal-black hands, beams.
The studio empties. Lorenzo and Domenico remain. Through the
window, Donatello's David catches the last light of day, its
bronze surface burning like prophecy.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
Sometimes God speaks loudest through
the simplest vessels.
DOMENICO
And sometimes destiny needs only one
word.
The setting sun transforms the studio into a cathedral of
light, blessing the moment Florence's future shifted, though
none but destiny knew it yet.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Artistic Rivalry in the Chapel
INT. BRANCACCI CHAPEL - FLORENCE - DAY
Masaccio's "The Expulsion from the Garden of Eden" looms above
SIX APPRENTICES cross-legged on the floor, sketching intently.
PIERO TORRIGIANO (17), handsome and well-dressed, holds court
while sketching with elegant flourishes.
TORRIGIANO
The key to Masaccio's genius is his
understanding of classical form. My
father's collection of Greek
sculptures—
MICHELANGELO
(without looking up)
The key to Masaccio's genius is he
finished his work instead of talking
about it.
Torrigiano sets down his charcoal with deliberate slowness.
TORRIGIANO
Some of us were born into cultured
families, Buonarroti. We understand
art requires proper appreciation.
MICHELANGELO
(looking up)
And some of us were born knowing how
to draw.
Michelangelo crosses to Torrigiano, examines his sketch with
exaggerated scrutiny.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Look at these lines- hesitant, weak.
Like you're afraid of the paper.
You don't draw, you peck at it like
a nervous chicken.
Torrigiano stands tall, looms over Michelangelo.
TORRIGIANO
At least I can read the names of the
masters I study. How many times has
Lorenzo's librarian caught you staring
at picture books?
MICHELANGELO
Better to learn from pictures than
hide behind fancy words. Your hand
betrays you, Torrigiano. All your
family's Greek statues can't help
you draw with conviction.
Torrigiano's composure cracks. Without warning, he lunges.
His fist connects with Michelangelo's nose. The CRACK ECHOES.
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI (16) and GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI (17)
SMIRK. Matteo Cavalcanti scrambles backward, while two others
turn away, horrified.
Michelangelo staggers. Blood streams between his fingers as
he straightens up, eyes blazing.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Had to use your fist because you
can't compete with your brush?
MATTEO CAVALCANTI
(leaps between them)
Piero, stop! This is a church!
Torrigiano shakes off Matteo and lunges again. Giuliano and
Giovanfrancesco intervene, pull Torrigiano backwards.
TORRIGIANO
Next time I'll break more than your
nose, stone carver!
MICHELANGELO
(picking up his
charcoal)
Then it'll be a more interesting
drawing.
Torrigiano storms out. On the wall above, Adam and Eve's
expressions of shame silently judge the scene.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Nurturing Genius
INT. MEDICI PALACE - LORENZO'S STUDY - FLORENCE - DAY
The epitome of culture and refinement. Lorenzo stands at the
window. BERTOLDO DI GIOVANNI (70), graceful despite his age,
examines Michelangelo's sketches.
BERTOLDO
His draftsmanship is extraordinary.
Look at how he's captured the
musculature, the tension in the limbs.
LORENZO
And this was before the incident?
BERTOLDO
The morning of. He finished in a
fraction of the time the others
needed.
(indicating details)
See how he's understood not just the
surface, but the underlying structure?
LORENZO
At fifteen-
BERTOLDO
That's what worries me. Pure
intuition. No understanding of
proportion theory, no knowledge of
the classics—
LORENZO
But what intuition, Bertoldo. He
doesn't just copy what he sees, he
understands it. Improves it.
Lorenzo looks down at the garden where Apprentices sketch
among classical statues.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
Torrigiano was born to privilege,
trained since birth. He creates art
to prove his worth.
(gesturing to the
drawings)
Michelangelo creates because he must.
Like he's burning with visions he
has to set free.
BERTOLDO
And you think bringing him here will
help? The boy can barely read.
LORENZO
Then we'll teach him. Surround him
with poetry, philosophy, beauty.
Let him argue with Poliziano about
the classics. The debates will do
them both good.
BERTOLDO
He'll be overwhelmed.
LORENZO
Let him be overwhelmed. Let him
absorb everything, the discussions,
the art, the ancient wisdom.
(touching a drawing)
Raw talent without education is like
fire without direction. It consumes
everything in its path. But properly
channeled-
BERTOLDO
These old bones won't last forever.
If he's to learn Donatello's methods-
LORENZO
Then we shouldn't waste time. Have
him moved in by week's end.
(with gentle humor)
Though perhaps we start with basic
manners before moving on to classical
proportion?
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
A Reunion in Florence
EXT. FLORENCE STREET - EARLY AFTERNOON
Horse-drawn carts weave through the CROWD teeming with VENDORS.
Michelangelo walks purposefully, a book under his arm. He
nearly collides with Francesco.
MICHELANGELO
Francesco! I can't believe it's you!
The Friends embrace warmly.
FRANCESCO
For the love of God, Mica. What's
your hurry?
MICHELANGELO
If I arrive first for dinner, I get
to sit next to Lorenzo.
FRANCESCO
So the rumors are true. You live in
the Medici palace?
MICHELANGELO
Five months, already. I spend my
days in the sculpture garden.
FRANCESCO
While I'm still mixing paint for
Domenico? Tell me it's all they
say. The poets, the scholars-
MICHELANGELO
Last week, Poliziano explained the
labors of Hercules. The actual
stories, Francesco, not the church
versions. And Ficino. He translates
Plato. Sometimes they argue about a
single word all through dinner.
FRANCESCO
While I clean brushes and grind
pigments.
(gesturing to the
book)
And you read? You, who said books
were for people who couldn't see?
MICHELANGELO
At Lorenzo's table, words matter as
much as images. I study with
Cristoforo Landino now.
FRANCESCO
The great scholar himself. Your
world has completely changed.
Michelangelo pats Francesco kindly on the shoulder.
MICHELANGELO
And it's all thanks to you, my friend.
FRANCESCO
Not at all. I bow before your
ambition and dedication.
MICHELANGELO
You should come to the garden. See
what I'm working on.
FRANCESCO
(scoffing)
They'd throw me out.
MICHELANGELO
Not if you come with me.
(moving away)
Next week? Tuesday morning?
FRANCESCO
Tuesday? Yes. But if I'm back
late, you're explaining it to
Domenico.
MICHELANGELO
I'll meet you at Santa Croce. Dawn.
FRANCESCO
(calling after him)
Go! Before someone claims your
precious seat!
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Art and Tension at the Medici Table
INT. MEDICI PALACE - ANTECHAMBER - FLORENCE - LATE AFTERNOON
Michelangelo sits on a bench, sketching, outside the dining
hall. Bertoldo approaches, leaning on his walking stick.
BERTOLDO
Starting your vigil early today?
MICHELANGELO
(not looking up)
The light is good here.
BERTOLDO
(settling beside him)
Show me.
A RUSTLE OF SILK. CONTESSINA DE MEDICI (13) glides past with
her GOVERNESS, a stern woman in black. Michelangelo quickly
stands, bows his head, notebook clutched to his chest.
Bertoldo rises slower, with dignity.
GOVERNESS
(nodding curtly)
Maestro Bertoldo.
Contessina keeps her eyes forward as protocol demands, but
there's a flicker of a glance toward Michelangelo. Their eyes
meet. The moment passes and she disappears down the corridor.
BERTOLDO
(settling back down)
Your sketch?
Michelangelo hands over his sketch of a muscular figure
emerging from rough stone.
BERTOLDO (CONT'D)
Ah. Still thinking about Poliziano's
Hercules story?
MICHELANGELO
It's the moment before he chooses
between virtue and vice. See how
he's only partly freed from the stone?
Like a soul struggling to break free.
BERTOLDO
You're beginning to sound like our
philosophers.
MICHELANGELO
I only understand half of what they
say. But it inspires me.
BERTOLDO
(rising)
Well, we should claim our places.
Poliziano and Ficino will arrive
soon, no doubt arguing about some
obscure Greek verb.
They gather their things and head into the
DINING HALL
Candlelight flickers across ancient sculptures and tapestries,
casting dancing shadows on frescoed walls. The long table
gleams with Venetian glass and silver.
Michelangelo sits at his hard-earned place, sketching. Across
from him, Bertoldo rests his walking stick against the table.
BERTOLDO
Your figures grow bolder each day.
But perhaps we should leave Plato's
forms for after our supper.
ANGELO POLIZIANO (37), his five-foot frame belying his towering
intellect, limps slightly as he enters with
MARSILIO FICINO (57), the priest-philosopher whose translation
of Plato's complete works transformed Florentine thought.
POLIZIANO
But consider, Marsilio, when we
translate Plato's concept of the
soul's ascent-
FICINO
The essence transcends language
itself, Poliziano. Just as form
exists before substance.
They take their seats near Michelangelo.
MONTAGE - GUESTS FILTER IN, TAKE THEIR APPOINTED SEATS
- Scholars clutching texts
- Merchants comparing ledgers
- Poets reciting verse
- A cluster of boisterous Young Nobles
- Two Dominican Friars deep in theological debate
- A Jewish Physician and Greek Scholar in animated discussion
END MONTAGE
BERNARDO RUCELLAI (43), wool merchant, enters with the elegant
French diplomat PHILIPPE DE COMMINES (44), and FRANCESCO VALORI
(51) his doleful eyes belying his shrewd mind.
RUCELLAI
Your French wool merchants continue
to undervalue our florins—
DE COMMINES
A temporary situation. King Charles
understands the value of Florentine
banking—
VALORI
If Charles understands anything,
it's which way the gold flows.
Lorenzo enters. The Guests rise. He waves them down with
characteristic informality, sits next to Michelangelo.
His eyes scan the gathering, each Guest placed where their
wit and wisdom will best serve the evening's alchemy of minds.
LORENZO
I see we're solving all of Florence's
problems before the first course.
(noticing
Michelangelo's sketch)
What philosophies spring from your
charcoal tonight, young Buonarroti?
MICHELANGELO
Just a thought about Hercules from
Poliziano's lecture on virtue and
choice.
FICINO
Show us how you've captured such an
abstract concept.
Michelangelo passes his sketch, as Servants bring ornate bowls
of soup. Poliziano and Ficino study the drawing.
FICINO (CONT'D)
Interesting. You've shown him half-
formed, as if emerging from chaos.
BERTOLDO
Look how he's carved against the
grain of the stone. Bold. Like
something Donatello would have
attempted.
POLIZIANO
You see carving in a drawing?
BERTOLDO
I see how he thinks, always in three
dimensions.
PIERO DE MEDICI (17) sweeps in, disheveled, his cloak stained.
PIERO
Apologies, Father. The Archbishop's
secretary required-
LORENZO
Your presence at every tavern between
here and the Duomo, clearly.
Piero flushes but takes his seat, eyeing Michelangelo's
prominent position with barely concealed disdain.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
(to Bertoldo)
As you were saying, Maestro.
BERTOLDO
See how he understands the way muscle
wraps around bone? The tension in
the shoulders, the way the sinews
stretch? This isn't just copying
the surface. He sees beneath the
skin, understands the architecture
of the body itself.
FICINO
(to Michelangelo)
Tell us more about this moment of
choice you've captured.
MICHELANGELO
It's like the garden sarcophagus.
(MORE)
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Where others see torment, I see
liberation. The figures aren't
trapped. They're breaking free.
PIERO
(to Michelangelo,
with false sweetness)
Soon you'll be lecturing us in Greek,
like father's other foundlings.
But, I forget... you can't read, can
you?
The Gathering bristles with subtle tension. Poliziano and
Ficino exchange glances. Bertoldo's grip tightens on his cane.
LORENZO
Better Greek than the tavern Tuscan
you've been practicing. Though I
hear you've become quite fluent in
the language of dice and cards.
Guests suppress smiles. Piero manages a chagrined grin as he
downs a cup of wine, immediately pours another.
POLIZIANO
(to Michelangelo)
But tell us, why leave part of the
figure bound in stone?
MICHELANGELO
Because the struggle itself holds
truth. Like your translations to
Greek, Master Poliziano. Something
of the original must remain to
preserve its power.
POLIZIANO
Power can never be underestimated.
Especially when it comes from ancient
sources.
BERTOLDO
This reminds me of Donatello when he
was casting the David. Every day in
the foundry-
MICHELANGELO
You were there?
BERTOLDO
For every pour. He'd stand over
that bronze like a physician over a
patient.
(MORE)
BERTOLDO (CONT'D)
(to Lorenzo)
Your grandfather would come watch
for hours.
LORENZO
Father said he'd never seen such
patience.
RUCELLAI
Is it true he used himself as a model?
BERTOLDO
Indeed. You see, Donatello believed
that to capture the divine, one must
first understand the earthly vessel.
LORENZO
We shall explore those depths another
evening, old friend. For now-
(to Steward)
The fruit and cheese?
Servants clear plates. Lorenzo surveys his household with
satisfaction: the mixing of arts and commerce, youth and
wisdom, exactly as he'd envisioned.
Piero drains another cup, caught between resentment and the
longing to be part of his father's world.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Dawn of Choices
EXT. SAN MARCO PLAZA - FLORENCE - DAWN
Michelangelo walks the empty street, fingers trailing along
the stone wall.
GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA (37) emerges from a side chapel, his
Dominican robes stark against the dawn light. He studies
Michelangelo before falling into step.
SAVONAROLA
(with calculated warmth)
Ah, what brings such a young soul
out at this sacred hour?
MICHELANGELO
Good morning, Friar.
SAVONAROLA
This is when Florence shows her true
face, before the merchants corrupt
her with their gold and vanities.
MICHELANGELO
It's peaceful. Reminds me of mornings
on the farm.
SAVONAROLA
Farm? You carry yourself like one
born to privilege.
MICHELANGELO
My family's lived in Florence 300
years, but I spent six years in
Settignano.
SAVONAROLA
Ah, Settignano, where honest men cut
stone for God's glory, not monuments
to earthly vanity. They say what
nurtures us in childhood shapes our
destiny.
MICHELANGELO
My wet nurse was from a family of
stone cutters. From her bosom's
milk to my blood, I was born to
sculpt.
SAVONAROLA
Such humble origins. Yet Lorenzo
would have you turn sacred stone to
profane spectacle-
(gestures at a palazzo)
Bid you carve pagan idols and false
gods in holy marble.
MICHELANGELO
Every stroke of my chisel seeks divine
truth. The work itself is the reward.
SAVONAROLA
Then come hear me at the Duomo. I
can show you how to create art that
serves heaven rather than Lorenzo's
pride.
The BELLS OF SANTA CROCE TOLL in the distance.
MICHELANGELO
Excuse me, Friar. I'm expected at
Santa Croce.
SAVONAROLA
(calling after him)
The choice between divine truth and
man's vanity comes to us all! Choose
wisely, young sculptor.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Art and Philosophy in the Garden
EXT. SAN MARCO SCULPTURE GARDEN - FLORENCE - MORNING
Francesco watches Michelangelo, Matteo Cavalcanti, Giuliano
Buigardini and Giovanfrancesco Rustici carve interpretations
of a Roman mask of a faun, weathered and missing its nose.
FRANCESCO
Fresh marble, yet you've given it
the soul of an ancient relic.
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
He works twice as fast as us and his
looks ten times better.
FRANCESCO
Such haste is risky, no? At
Ghirlandaio's our progress is slow
but certain.
Lorenzo enters with Ficino and
GIOVANNI PICO DELLA MIRANDOLA (26), over 6' tall, intense,
confident, and formidable intellect.
LORENZO
Good morning boys, how goes the
battle?
MATTEO CAVALCANTI
Il Magnifico, look what Michelangelo
created.
Lorenzo picks up Michelangelo's piece and studies it.
MIRANDOLA
(in Greek, subtitled)
Tell me, what did Aristotle say of
the faun's dual nature?
Michelangelo looks at him blankly.
MIRANDOLA (CONT'D)
(in Latin, subtitled)
Or perhaps Ovid's description? Every
image, in life and in art, has two
meanings. One is called the exoteric;
the other is the esoteric.
FRANCESCO
(sotto to Michelangelo)
He speaks as many languages as you
know chisel strokes.
LORENZO
My dear Pico, you'll find Michelangelo
speaks most eloquently through his
chisel. His hands understand truths
that tongues struggle to express.
MIRANDOLA
Ah. The exoteric, or outer purpose,
defines the basic shape and form of
an image. It is the common
understanding embraced by the public.
LORENZO
Might we call it the simple story
that most people take for granted?
MIRANDOLA
Exactly. Most people refuse to truly
observe what is right in front of
them. Instead, they filter what
they see through a lens of popular
beliefs.
(placing the faun
before his face)
They become limited by the exoteric
masks they assume.
FICINO
While the esoteric is the hidden or
inner meaning. The truth beneath
the mask that only a few understand.
The faun's very nature is dual, half-
divine mirth, half-bestial appetite.
MICHELANGELO
How so?
FICINO
Look at the face. The human aspects,
the laugh lines, the knowing eyes.
These speak to divine joy. But the
animal features, the pointed ears,
wild grin, reveal our baser nature.
MIRANDOLA
The goal is to recognize both aspects
but to channel them to a higher
purpose. A purpose shaped by reason.
FICINO
So, Michelangelo, when you sculpt,
you must sublimate your technical,
physical talent to serve the esoteric
idea that you're imagining.
LORENZO
(studying the faun)
Well said, gentlemen. Michelangelo,
I now see what is missing from your
faun, or, perhaps, I should say,
what is mistakenly present.
(turning the mask)
How is it that your aged faun, who
has spent a life full of unending
pleasure and drunkenness, still has-
Michelangelo studies the mask, grabs it and chisels furiously.
Within moments, he holds it up, now missing teeth.
MICHELANGELO
What teeth?
FICINO
The spirit shapes the form.
MIRANDOLA
And now we see both natures aligned,
technical mastery serving truth.
Bertoldo approaches, leaning on his cane, long white locks
blowing in the breeze.
BERTOLDO
Gentlemen, I have something deeply
profound to add to this discussion.
At my age it's easy to sort out
philosophical priorities.
(puts on Michelangelo's
faun mask)
It's lunchtime. Let's eat.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Biographical"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
A Call to Purity
INT. THE DUOMO - FLORENCE - MORNING
The pews are packed. Michelangelo sits in the shadow of a
massive pillar, sketching the sea of faces turned toward the
pulpit where Savonarola orates with intensity.
SAVONAROLA
Florence drowns in luxury while her
soul starves! What value are your
golden trinkets, your pagan stories,
your classical vanities, when the
poor cry out for bread?
Michelangelo sketches Savonarola's gestures rapidly, noting
how his theatrical moments align with the cathedral BELLS.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
God demands pure art!
(MORE)
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
Art that elevates the soul, not
celebrates the flesh! What use are
marble gods when Christ's children
sleep in gutters?
A WEALTHY MERCHANT tears a gold chain from his neck, casts it
aside. A NOBLEWOMAN wipes her tears with a silk handkerchief,
throws it to the floor.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
Let Florence lead Italy not in
commerce but in holy transformation!
Let her artists serve heaven, not
earthly princes!
Michelangelo captures a subtle detail as Savonarola looks at
his planted FOLLOWERS, prompting their responses.
FOLLOWERS
Amen!
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Clash of Ideals
EXT. DUOMO STEPS - MORNING
Michelangelo flips through his sketches, page after page of
Savonarola's performance and the choreography beneath it.
SAVONAROLA (O.S.)
The artist sees what others miss.
MICHELANGELO
(turning, startled)
I seek only truth in form, Father.
SAVONAROLA
I seek a deeper truth. In the god
that creates form. May I?
Michelangelo hesitates, hands over his sketchbook. Savonarola
studies the drawings, his expression unreadable.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
You capture much.
The words hang between them, acknowledgment and warning both.
Michelangelo takes back his sketchbook.
MICHELANGELO
Sometimes the hand captures more
than the eye intends.
SAVONAROLA
Indeed. The time comes when every
artist must choose between serving
earthly princes or heavenly truth.
FICINO (O.S.)
Ah, there you are.
Michelangelo turns as Ficino approaches. Savonarola's
expression hardens almost imperceptibly at the interruption.
FICINO (CONT'D)
(to Michelangelo)
Lorenzo asks for you. He wishes to
discuss your progress.
(acknowledging
Savonarola)
Brother Girolamo.
SAVONAROLA
Master Ficino.
MICHELANGELO
(sensing the tension)
We shouldn't keep Il Magnifico
waiting. Although, philosophy does
sharpen the appetite.
FICINO
Ah! Now you sound like Pico. Come,
Monna Lucrezia always sets a good
table, and we can have our discussion
over bread and wine.
MICHELANGELO
Good day, Father.
As they depart, Ficino's hand rests on Michelangelo's shoulder.
Behind them, Savonarola seethes with hatred.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Biographical"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Art and Shadows: A Conversation in the Garden
EXT. SAN MARCO SCULPTURE GARDEN - FLORENCE - AFTERNOON
Dappled light on ancient statues. Michelangelo CHISELS a
relief. Poliziano enters, pauses to watch his precision.
POLIZIANO
Your hands remind me of another young
man. Giuliano also had an artist's
touch.
MICHELANGELO
(looking up)
Lorenzo's brother? I've seen his
portrait in the hall, but no one
speaks of him.
POLIZIANO
Some wounds are too deep for words.
I was there that tragic morning.
Michelangelo's chisel slows, then stops.
POLIZIANO (CONT'D)
The Pazzi thought killing the Medici
would liberate Florence. Now this
Dominican friar preaches similar
poison, only he wraps it in scripture
instead of daggers.
MICHELANGELO
Savonarola? But surely, he's just a
preacher.
POLIZIANO
So were the priests who condoned
Lorenzo's assassination. They
believed they served God.
Michelangelo sets down his chisel, listens intently.
POLIZIANO (CONT'D)
When you hear Savonarola rail against
Lorenzo's pagan art collection,
remember, there have always been
those who mask political ambition
behind religious purity.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Art and Faith: A Tension in the Medici Palace
INT. MEDICI PALACE - LORENZO'S STUDY - LATE AFTERNOON
Michelangelo watches Lorenzo appraise a relief, The Battle of
the Centaurs. Lorenzo leans forward, reveals the scar on his
neck. Savonarola's DISTINCTIVE CADENCE rises from the street.
SAVONAROLA (O.S.)
Woe to the proud...
LORENZO
(gesturing to the
tangle of bodies)
This compression of forms. Tell me
what guided your hand here.
MICHELANGELO
I've been studying the sarcophagi.
How the figures are stacked, one
behind the other.
LORENZO
(tracing the muscled
figures)
You've captured the ancient power,
but made it your own.
MICHELANGELO
The friar says we waste our time
studying pagan tales.
LORENZO
What do you say?
MICHELANGELO
Truth lives in the stone, Il
Magnifico. When I carve, I free
what's there, waiting.
LORENZO
Like Florence herself, caught between
the ancient wisdom and-
(gestures toward
Savonarola's voice)
This new purification.
Through the window, Savonarola's words become clearer.
SAVONAROLA (O.S.)
Rid Florence of its vanities.
Lorenzo looks out the window for a moment before closing it.
MICHELANGELO
(indicating the most
finished section)
See how they fight, not just the
centaurs and lapiths, but every figure
wrestling with its own emergence
from the stone.
LORENZO
Always the struggle. Our Dominican
friend would have us destroy such
beauty. Yet here you've captured
profound truth in these ancient tales.
Keep working, young friend. Florence
needs your vision.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
The Prophet's Dilemma
INT. SAN MARCO MONASTERY - SAVONAROLA'S CELL - EVENING
Whitewashed walls. Vaulted ceiling. A plain wooden crucifix
above a plain desk scattered with parchment scraps covered in
a sharp, angular script.
Savonarola hunches at the desk, writes in fierce strokes:
"The sword of divine justice hangs over Florence." He pauses.
His quill resumes faster: "The city drowns in luxury while
souls starve. The collections of princes mock God."
The quill stops. A drop of ink bleeds into the parchment,
spreads like a stain. Savonarola stares at the unfinished
sentence, slowly rises.
He moves to the cell's center, his thin frame rocking slightly,
casting a shadow in an undulating dance against the austere
walls. His chant begins low, almost a whisper.
SAVONAROLA
(rhythmic)
Through my voice, Lord, through my
voice, Florence shall hear your truth.
He circles the cell, measured steps marking its dimensions.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
While princes crown themselves with
gold, your truth shall be my crown.
They build palaces of marble, but I
shall build an army of souls.
(voice rising)
They offer Florence pleasures that
poison her spirit. I shall give her
the bitter medicine of salvation.
When your judgment comes, Lord, let
me be your-
A KNOCK interrupts his fervor. His transformation is immediate,
the ecstatic prophet is once again the humble friar. As he
turns, he catches his reflection in the window, stares.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
Such gifts could serve God's purpose
or threaten it. The young artist
sees too clearly. Like this glass,
reflecting both heaven and earth.
(louder)
Enter, brother. I was just completing
my evening prayers.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Carnival of Tension
EXT. SIGNORIA PIAZZA - FLORENCE - DAY
The Carnival of Flowers erupts with color. Red, blue and gold
banners SNAP in the spring breeze. YOUNG WOMEN, wearing crowns
of jasmine and orange blossoms, weave through the CROWD
carrying baskets spilling over with narcissi and wild iris.
MUSICIANS play viols and lutes. A SALTARELLO dance begins.
Couples form lines as DRUMS mark the rhythm. The DANCERS'
feet kick up flower petals scattered across the stones.
INT. PALAZZO VECCHIO - FLORENCE - DAY
Lorenzo and Mirandola watch the revelry from a window.
LORENZO
Tell me Pico, when my grandfather
created a carnival dedicated to the
pagan rites of spring who'd have
thought it would come to this?
MIRANDOLA
All of Florence loves this day.
What I love is it confirms our lives
are intimately tied to the movement
of the planets.
LORENZO
As the divine Plato said, "the only
reason we have the power of sight is
to align our lives to the rhythm and
movement of the stars."
A MAIDEN in a silk mask tease a YOUNG MAN with honey-soaked
cake. She presses it to his lips, leaves traces of sugar and
saffron on his chin. Their LAUGHTER carries up to the window.
A group of NOBLE LADIES, faces behind masks, dance with
MERCHANTS' SONS, while CHAPERONES pretend not to notice. A
WOMAN in peacock feathers tosses a garland of roses to a YOUTH,
his blush visible through his mask.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
Perhaps the planets have aligned to
remind us that even the most proper
Florentine heart beats faster in
spring.
MIRANDOLA
The ancient mysteries of Venus and
flora, played out in our christian
streets. Though I suspect your
grandfather saw more philosophy than
paganism in such natural impulses.
The MUSIC quickens. More COUPLES join the dance, social
barriers momentarily dissolved by carnival license. A YOUNG
WOMAN'S LAUGH rings out as her partner lifts her in the
Saltarello. Lorenzo's expression shifts.
MIRANDOLA (CONT'D)
What troubles you, my friend?
LORENZO
Look how the young men compete for
attention, each leap higher than the
last, each gesture more dramatic.
A DANCER stumbles, nearly falling. ONLOOKERS GASP.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
The competition grows too fierce.
And there's someone who would use
even this against us.
MIRANDOLA
The Dominican Friar oversteps his
duties.
LORENZO
I can hear him now. "See how the
Medici corrupt our youth with pagan
revelry."
MIRANDOLA
I'm truly sorry I convinced you to
sponsor his move to Florence. I did
not foresee his prophecies turning
against the very hand that welcomed
him.
LORENZO
Don't apologize, Pico. Florence has
weathered sterner storms than one
Dominican's sermons.
MIRANDOLA
Yet his following grows. Last Sunday,
I saw mothers weep as he described
their children's damnation. And,
when he speaks of your family-
LORENZO
My family has faced worse than words.
As Lorenzo gazes out at the celebration, his eyes grow distant.
FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Easter Betrayal
INT. THE DUOMO - FLORENCE - LATE MORNING - 1478
Easter Mass. 20,000 PEOPLE pack the pews. YOUNG LORENZO DE
MEDICI (28) adjusts the silk collar of his brother, GUILIANO
(25) as they sit prominently near the central aisle.
O.S. THE EXSULTET continues under:
LORENZO (V.O.)
It came out of nowhere. Four Pazzi
assassins rushed down the aisle
screaming. I watched in horror as
they stabbed my beloved brother over
and again while I fought for my life.
Guiliano slumps, blood spreads through gashes in his silk
doublet, forms rivulets across the ornate marble floor.
LORENZO (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I fled to the sacristy and hid while
a loyal official confronted the
Archbishop. Once he confessed he'd
condoned the murders, chaos erupted.
Lorenzo clutches his neck. Blood seeps through his fingers as
he flees to the sacristy, locks the door behind him.
EXT. SIGNORIA PIAZZA - FLORENCE - AFTERNOON
O.S. THE EXSULTET CONTINUES. Five MEN drag the beaten, bleeding
Archbishop, through the Piazza toward Palazzo Vecchio.
SECONDS LATER
The Archbishop's body, still in holy communion gown, is flung
out the second story window, a rope around his neck. His body
swings above Signoria Piazza. A CROWD gathers.
CROWD
Assassin! Traitor! They killed
Giuliano with the Bishop's blessing!
They tried to kill Lorenzo.
(raising forks and
picks)
Let's go! Justice must be served!
Get the Pazzi!
RETURN TO SCENE - INT. PALAZZO VECCHIO - DAY
MIRANDOLA
And Florence rallied to your family's
defense. They dragged the Pazzi to
Signoria Piazza and tore them limb
to limb like a pack of wolves.
FLASHBACK
EXT. PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA - AFTERNOON
More than THIRTY BODIES swing above the Piazza as human limbs
are thrown into a fire.
RETURN TO SCENE - INT. PALAZZO VECCHIO - DAY
Lorenzo watches DOMINICAN MONKS move through the CROWD below.
LORENZO
It was gruesome.
MIRANDOLA
A reminder that beneath our cultured
facade lies a reservoir of abject
animal violence.
LORENZO
I doubt Savonarola has any inkling
how brutal the mob can become.
INTERCUT - INT. SAN MARCO MONASTERY - CHAPTER HOUSE - AFTERNOON
Light pierces windows illuminating Fra Angelico's frescoes of
Christ and his saints.
FRA DOMENICO DA PESCIA (40s) stands humbly behind Savonarola
at the window, looking beyond the monastery walls to the
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Political Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
The Cleansing of Florence
EXT. SAN MARCO SCULPTURE GARDEN
Michelangelo sketches a torso of Apollo. Lorenzo appears with
BISHOP DE BECCHI (60s), purple ecclesiastical robes, his gait
measured, each step that of a man hiding constant pain.
SAVONAROLA
Look at him, a prince of the church
peddling pagan philosophy. Three
generations of Medici he's guided
away from Christ, each more corrupt
than the last.
As Lorenzo and De Becchi approach, Michelangelo sets aside
his drawing. De Becchi sits beside him. Lorenzo leans on his
walking stick with practiced nonchalance.
FRA DOMENICO
The Bishop is known for his learning,
Brother-
SAVONAROLA
For his heresy! He poisons young
minds with whispers of secret powers
hidden in classical texts.
FRA DOMENICO
He has Lorenzo's ear in all matters
of wisdom-
SAVONAROLA
And corrupts them with his humanist
poison. I won't be ruled by such
men, even if they wear the church's
colors. The holy ghost guides me.
That's all I need.
De Becchi studies Michelangelo's drawing with an expert eye,
points to something in the torso's form, opens his book.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
Look how they conspire. The boy
could carve saints. Instead, they
feed him Neoplatonic fantasies with
his supper.
FRA DOMENICO
Lorenzo's ideas seep through our
very own walls. Even our youngest
novices speak of Plato in their
prayers.
SAVONAROLA
Everyone thinks Florence has a
republic, but every name drawn from
the Signoria's leather pouch bears
Lorenzo's invisible seal. He's made
puppets of them all, while his pet
Bishop corrupts these artists with
honeyed whispers of ancient wisdom.
De Becchi bends close to Michelangelo. The intimacy of their
communion infuriates Savonarola. His fists clench.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
I don't underestimate their power.
But they shouldn't underestimate
mine. I am God's messenger.
A DOMINICAN NOVICE appears, carrying a scroll with papal seals.
DOMINICAN NOVICE
Brother Savonarola. His Holiness
commands your presence before the
Vatican court.
Savonarola takes the scroll but doesn't open it.
SAVONAROLA
The Pope thinks his gilded letters
can summon me like a servant? He
wastes away while the Borgia cardinal
counts his bribes and measures Peter's
chair. The church drowns in
corruption while Rome trades
tomorrow's tiaras.
FRA DOMENICO
Brother, such words-
SAVONAROLA
Are truth! Rome revels in pomp and
glory. I attend to the poor and
dispossessed. Let him send his
perfumed missives. I answer to a
higher authority.
Savonarola paces, eyes blazing. At the window, he watches
Lorenzo and De Becchi draw Michelangelo deeper into discussion.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
Let them keep their garden of earthly
delights. Soon, their marble gods
will crumble, their precious books
will burn, and Florence will be
cleansed. This isn't an old man in
Rome speaking. This is divine truth
that cannot be denied.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Biographical"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Celestial Decisions: The Initiation of Michelangelo
EXT. FICINO'S VILLA - TERRACE - CAREGGI, ITALY - AFTERNOON
Ancient manuscripts RUSTLE in the BREEZE. Florence's greatest
minds are gathered: Lorenzo, Ficino, Poliziano, Mirandola,
Landino and Bishop De Becchi.
SOFT FOOTSTEPS precede Ficino's housekeeper, MONNA LUCIA (30s)
carrying a pot of tea on a silver tray.
She sets the tray down, barely disturbing the scholarly
atmosphere. Her eyes catch Lorenzo shifting in his chair,
adjusting his leg beneath the table.
FICINO
Leoni's remedy?
LORENZO
Our good doctor insists the herbs
were gathered at the perfect
astrological hour. Though I wonder
if Lucia's timing doesn't matter
more than Venus's.
As Monna Lucia pours tea, Lorenzo's fingers brush the edge of
the cup in a subtle gesture. No words pass in this household
where every gesture carries weight and silence speaks volumes.
Monna Lucia remains neutral, yet a hint of concern crosses
her face as she steps back. Only Poliziano notices her linger
a breath longer than necessary.
FICINO
(holding a celestial
chart)
The heavens themselves counsel against
haste. Venus opposes Mercury, and
Saturn's influence wanes. At sixteen,
the boy's soul has not yet achieved
the celestial harmony our mysteries
demand.
As Monna Lucia reaches the doorway, Lorenzo's voice catches
her, soft but clear.
LORENZO
A moment, Lucia.
She pauses, turns.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
When you brew the next pot-
(a ghost of a smile)
Perhaps a touch more mint.
She dips her head in a slight bow that conveys respect and
familiarity, her mouth turned up in the hint of a smile.
Lorenzo turns his attention to an anatomical drawing.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
Yet look what he achieves. Is this
not what our ancient texts describe -
the search for eternal forms beneath
temporal matter?
POLIZIANO
Like Prometheus unraveling heaven's
code. He doesn't merely draw what
he sees. He reaches the essence of
form. His study of musculature
reveals more about divine proportion
than a hundred treatises.
MIRANDOLA
Exactly what I argued in my oration!
Man's gift is to understand the chain
of being, from gross matter to divine
spirit. The boy proves it with every
stroke.
LANDINO
When we discussed Dante's vision of
bodily resurrection, he asked
questions that left me speechless.
He sees the connection between flesh
and spirit that Plato described.
DE BECCHI
And what better cover? The church
cannot object to anatomical studies
in service of glorifying God's
creation. They'll never suspect
these investigations serve a deeper
purpose.
FICINO
The stars may warn of danger, but
perhaps that very opposition is the
sign. The moment calls.
LORENZO
Then let us vote. All in favor of
initiating Michelangelo Buonarroti
into our Mystery Academy...
Lorenzo raises his hand, then Poliziano, followed by Mirandola.
Landino and De Becchi raise theirs together. Finally, Ficino.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
It's decided.
FICINO
(consulting his
astronomical charts )
The new moon comes in seven days.
When luna is dark and mercury
ascendant, we'll conduct the rites.
What better time to kindle new light?
DE BECCHI
(rising, adjusting
his robes)
God helps those who preserve wisdom
against darkness, my friend.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Philosophical"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Dawn of Dissent
EXT. SANTA CROCE PIAZZA - FLORENCE - DAWN
Mist clings to stone facades as EARLY RISERS hurry to mass.
Michelangelo attempts to scrub marble dust from his fingernails
at the public fountain. Francesco appears.
FRANCESCO
Trying to wash away marble dust, my
friend? It's futile?
MICHELANGELO
(wiping his hands)
Lorenzo's taking me to Ficino's.
I'm cleaning up properly for once.
FRANCESCO
To the philosopher's villa?
MICHELANGELO
Can't have marble chips falling into
Ficino's wine while he's lecturing
on the divine spheres.
FRANCESCO
Here I thought you only cared for
marble.
INT. SANTA CROCE - MOMENTS LATER
Candlelight glows as WORSHIPPERS fill the pews. Savonarola
stands in the pulpit, austere against the ornate backdrop.
SAVONAROLA
Florence adorns herself like a painted
courtesan while her soul withers!
You give form to the myths of Rome,
but what of the truth nailed to the
cross? What of the face of Christ?
MICHELANGELO
(whispering)
But what if they're the same truth?
FRANCESCO
(barely audible)
Careful. He has ears like a bat.
A sharp look from a nearby WIDOW silences them.
SAVONAROLA
Florence! You cannot serve two
masters. Soon you must choose!
He scans the pews, deliberate, piercing. A hush falls.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
The Crossroads of Art and Morality
EXT. SANTA CROCE - FLORENCE - MORNING
As WORSHIPPERS file past, Francesco and Michelangelo step
aside. Savonarola approaches them.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
Young Buonarroti. The Medici garden
keeps you busy with its ancient forms?
MICHELANGELO
Each stroke of the chisel brings me
closer to God's creation, father.
SAVONAROLA
Or does it lead you toward older,
darker gods? Take care that pride
in craft doesn't become pride in
self.
FRANCESCO
His work honors the church, father.
SAVONAROLA
Even satan can quote scripture.
Even pagan beauty can wear a holy
mask. Choose your path carefully,
my son. Florence stands at a
crossroads.
MICHELANGELO
(touching the wall)
The light's perfect now-
FRANCESCO
His words trouble you?
MICHELANGELO
(snaps from his reverie)
There's truth in his words, Francesco.
But truth lies in other places too.
FRANCESCO
Be careful. Some knowledge comes
with a price.
MICHELANGELO
What do you mean?
FRANCESCO
Ficino's reputation. Some say he
seeks mysteries better left buried.
MICHELANGELO
Some secrets are worth the price.
Just as Ficino finds truth in Plato,
I find mine in stone.
FRANCESCO
You go where angels fear to tread.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Rivalry in the Shadows
EXT. SAN MARCO SCULPTURE GARDEN - FLORENCE - LATE AFTERNOON
A horse litter bearing the Medici emblem of six red spheres
pulls up outside the gates. Lorenzo peers out through parted
drapes, his shrewd eyes taking in the scene.
Chisels lower, sketches are set aside. Michelangelo remains
focused on his work until Bertoldo touches his shoulder.
Michelangelo looks up, blinks as if waking from a dream. He
wipes his hands and hurries toward the litter.
LORENZO
Come, come. Marsilio expects us
before night has fallen.
Giuliano and Giovanfrancesco jealously watch as Lorenzo's
guards help Michelangelo into the litter.
INSIDE LITTER
Michelangelo settles opposite Lorenzo on the cushioned seat.
As the horses begin to walk, Lorenzo watches his protégé cast
a longing glance at the unfinished sculpture left behind.
In that gaze, Lorenzo sees everything he's gambled on: talent,
obsession, and the rare fire that will hopefully illuminate
the mysteries he guards.
INT. SAN MARCO MONASTERY - CHAPTER HOUSE
Savonarola watches Lorenzo's entourage depart. Fra Domenico
materializes at his shoulder.
SAVONAROLA
The Buonarroti boy.
FRA DOMENICO
He works with such fury, the other
students say his chisel sparks fires.
SAVONAROLA
And now Il Magnifico comes himself,
at vespers, to bear him away. Where
would Lorenzo take a sculptor at
this hour?
Through the window, they watch Lorenzo's litter make its
careful progress through Florence's darkening streets.
FRA DOMENICO
Shall I have the novices follow?
SAVONAROLA
His fellow sculptors, young Rustici
and careful Bugiardini watch his
rise with bitter eyes. Time will
loose venom from their tongues.
SCULPTURE GARDEN
Giuliano and Giovanfrancesco pack up their tools.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
The great Lorenzo himself comes to
collect him?
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
First Torrigiano runs off to Rome
after a stupid brawl, now this. A
stonecutter rises fast in our garden.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
Since Torrigiano left, Lorenzo barely
glances at our work.
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
Perhaps we should have let him break
more than his nose.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Chant of Shadows
EXT. FICINO'S VILLA - CAREGGI - NIGHT
A thin crescent moon sits directly below a sparkling Venus.
INT. FICINO'S VILLA - WINDOWLESS ROOM - CAREGGI
Ancient Egyptian symbols and classical figures are barely
visible on the walls through wreaths of incense smoke.
Lorenzo, Landino, De Becchi, and Poliziano, in hooded black
robes, enter with Michelangelo.
Ficino and Mirandola stand behind a stone coffin, hieroglyphics
along its edges, reciting in mantra-like fashion.
FICINO & MIRANDOLA
I am a being of violet fire. I am
the purity light inspires. I am a
being of violet fire. I am the purity
light inspires. I am a being of
violet fire. I am the purity light
inspires.
The Men gather around the coffin, Michelangelo between them.
They raise their hands.
INT. SAN MARCO MONASTERY - SAVONAROLA'S CELL
Savonarola kneels before a crucifix lit by a single candle.
Head bowed, he fingers wooden rosary beads in fierce rhythm.
His voice, low and fervent, cuts through the rising chant.
SAVONAROLA
(murmuring)
In nomine Patris, et
Filii, et Spiritus
Sancti. Domine, libera
nos a tenebris.
FICINO, MIRANDOLA,
ET AL (O.S.)
I am a being of violet
fire. I am the purity
love inspires. I am a
being of violet fire. I am
the purity love inspires.
(building momentum)
I am a being of violet
fire. I am the purity love
inspires.
Savonarola raises his face slowly toward the crucifix, his
eyes red, brimming with tears.
SAVONAROLA
(murmuring)
Tu solus sanctus, tu solus Dominus...
He presses a single bead to his lips. Holds it.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
(sotto)
The soul must burn before it rises.
The candle gutters. Shadows leap across the wall, dancing
over Christ’s outstretched arms. Savonarola lowers his head.
FICINO, MIRANDOLA, ET AL (O.S.)
I am a being of violet fire. I am
the purity life inspires. I am a
being of violet fire. I am the purity
life inspires. I am a being of violet
fire. I am the purity life inspires.
The CHANT blends into one continuous WAVE OF SOUND.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Mystery","Occult"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
The Ritual of Passage
INT. FICINO'S VILLA - WINDOWLESS ROOM - CAREGGI
Lorenzo unties Michelangelo. Poliziano and Landino guide him
into the coffin. He lies down, arms across his chest.
A GONG SOUNDS THREE TIMES. Eyes turn towards Ficino, who steps
forward with an oil lamp.
FICINO
As Hermes anointed the prophets, as
David was anointed king-
He touches oil to Michelangelo's forehead and hands.
FICINO (CONT'D)
We call forth the Great Unknown,
Yawheh, I AM THAT I AM, Elohim.
(MORE)
FICINO (CONT'D)
In the name of Hermes, Orpheus and
Moses. In the name of the Holiest
of Holies, Messiah, Jesus the Christ.
We call forth the spirit of the
Mother's unconditional love and
eternal beauty. Lord, hear our
prayer. Protect our initiate as he
travels into the abyss.
The room falls silent. Eyes turn towards Mirandola.
MIRANDOLA
Heavenly hosts, we beseech thee to
strengthen our brother, Michelangelo
di Ludovico Buonarroti Simoni.
Safeguard and protect him as he passes
from the light into the Great Unknown.
The coffin SLAMS shut.
FADE TO BLACK
INSIDE COFFIN
Michelangelo's BREATH is slow and deep. His HEART BEATS O.S.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Mystery","Occult"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Whispers of Change in the Sculpture Garden
EXT. SAN MARCO SCULPTURE GARDEN - FLORENCE - MORNING
Giuliano and Giovanfrancesco work side by side on relief panels
of the Annunciation. Their chisels STRIKE a disjointed rhythm.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
(pausing to examine
his work)
Three days. Three days since Il
Magnifico spirited him away, and his
block stands untouched.
He gestures toward Michelangelo's abandoned marble.
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
Perhaps they went to Rome.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
To see the Pope? What would His
Holiness want with a sixteen-year-
old stonecutter?
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
Or Pisa. The cathedral there always
needs sculptors.
Bertoldo emerges from his workshop, his face creased with
annoyance. He leans heavily on his walking stick.
BERTOLDO
If you put half as much effort into
your carvings as you do into gossip,
you might produce something worthy
of Lorenzo's attention.
(pause)
They're at Ficino's villa. Now return
to your work, or you'll spend the
next week cleaning the sarcophagi.
Every battle scene, every dancing
maenad, every leaf and laurel crown.
As Bertoldo departs, the Teens exchange startled looks.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
Ficino's villa? What business does
a sculptor have with philosophers?
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
The same business any of us have.
Survival.
Bugiardini glances at the door where Bertoldo disappeared,
moves closer to his friend pretending to examine his work.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
Survival? Is that what you call it
when Il Magnifico's golden boy
abandons his chisel for fancy words
and ancient texts?
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
Did you attend vespers at San Marco
last Sunday?
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
The Dominican's sermons? I have
better uses for my time.
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
Then you haven't heard how he speaks
of art. Savonarola calls our
sculptures pagan idols, our paintings
vanities. A mad monk who makes silk
merchants' wives weep when he speaks
of their jewels turning to serpents.
Who has the wool guild masters nodding
when he rails against usury and
corrupt patronage.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
And what concern is that to artists?
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
The wind changes, Giovani. Smart
artists feel it first.
Rustici studies his friend's face, chisel slack in his hand.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
And what do smart artists do when
the wind changes?
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
They make sure their talents serve
more than one patron. The Medici
may have the palle today, but
tomorrow— Tomorrow might favor those
who stayed true to their craft instead
of chasing philosopher's dreams.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
A Clash of Ideals in Florence
EXT. VIA DEI SERVI - FLORENCE - EVENING
Giovanfrancesco hurries past workshops closing for the night.
A dark figure materializes from beneath the loggia of
OrSanMichele. Savonarola steps into Giovanfrancesco's path.
SAVONAROLA
Rustici. The hour grows late.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
Father! I- the light was perfect
for carving today-
SAVONAROLA
Like your friend Michelangelo would
say. Though his chisel lies silent.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
He's with Il Magnifico. At Ficino's
villa-
(catching himself too
late)
SAVONAROLA
Ah. Where Greek wisdom whispers
sweeter than scripture. Where young
minds learn to mistake shadow for
substance.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
Father?
SAVONAROLA
Go, my son. Pray for those who trade
divine truth for philosophers' dreams.
As Giovanfrancesco's FOOTSTEPS fade, Savonarola gazes toward
the hills beyond Florence.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
So, Lorenzo. Not content to shape
his hands, you'd shape his soul as
well.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Political Intrigue"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Visions and Urgency in Florence
INT. FICINO'S VILLA - CAREGGI - EVENING
Ficino, Landino, Poliziano, Mirandola, De Becchi and Lorenzo
sit by the fireplace, all eyes on Michelangelo.
MICHELANGELO
I saw- I saw everything. Past and
future, bound together in eternal
forms, as though time didn't exist.
He turns to Lorenzo, his expression intense.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
The marble- it lives. It breathes.
And in its breath, I saw-
(touching his chest)
Eternal truth.
Lorenzo and Ficino exchange knowing looks.
FICINO
What truth, my son?
MICHELANGELO
That beauty and divine truth are
one. That art can pierce the veil
between worlds.
(his eyes distant)
And that Florence will need this
truth when darkness comes.
INT. SAN MARCO MONASTERY – CLOISTER COURTYARD – EVENING
Smoky braziers cast dancing shadows across a long line of
starving poor. Snot-nosed infants cling to mothers. Children
huddle together SHIVERING. An old man clutches a sack cloth
around his bony frame.
At the head of the line, Friars ladle thin broth into bowls,
tear bread into rough chunks. The line shuffles forward.
Beneath an archway, Savonarola stands motionless in shadow,
watching. He approaches a Friar.
SAVONAROLA
See they eat first. The smallest.
Always the smallest.
He kneels beside a GIRL (5) and her MOTHER, places loaf into
the child's hands. She bites into the bread, chews ravenously.
He touches her forehead in a silent blessing.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
(to the mother)
Remember this night. Not for the
food. For the mercy.
INT. PALAZZO VECCHIO – OUTSIDE THE COUNCIL CHAMBER – AFTERNOON
VOICES echo from behind closed doors. A guard stands rigid. A
MEDICI MESSENGER (30s) paces, clutching a letter.
The doors fly open. Francesco Valori strides out, jaw set.
The messenger scurries to keep up with him.
MESSENGER
Messere Valori, please. Lorenzo
asks for patience.
VALORI
The Signoria doesn’t trade in
patience. The wool guild threatens
to strike. Bread prices climb, taxes
tighten, and we debate fresco budgets.
MESSENGER
His health- He cannot be seen in
weakness.
VALORI
Then he’ll be seen in absence.
MESSENGER
What shall I tell him?
Valori steps close, eye to eye.
VALORI
Tell him: ghosts don’t govern.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Political Intrigue"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
A Moment of Beauty and Tension
INT. MEDICI PALACE - LORENZO'S STUDY - EVENING
Michelangelo perches on a chair surrounded by Lorenzo, Ficino,
Mirandola, De Becchi, Landino and Poliziano. Ficino draws
crimson silk from his robes with the deliberation of a priest
preparing for ritual.
A KNOCK. The door opens. Piero De Medici steps in.
PIERO
Father-
All heads turn. Lorenzo's expression hardens.
PIERO (CONT'D)
Ah. My pardon. I did not realize-
LORENZO
Then you should have waited for
admittance.
PIERO
(bowing stiffly)
My Lords, forgive the intrusion.
Piero hesitates, lingering as if expecting to be invited in.
LORENZO
This is a gathering for serious minds,
son. Be gone.
Piero swallows, backs out stiffly, glares at Michelangelo.
The door CLOSES.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
My dear, Ficino. You were saying.
FICINO
In Plato's Timaeus, the Demiurge
binds the world's soul with invisible
cords.
(weaving the silk
intricately)
The ancients knew something we've
forgotten, young Michelangelo. About
bonds. About knots.
MIRANDOLA
The philosopher emperor.
(reaches into his
robe)
Here.
Mirandola flips a gold coin through the air. Michelangelo
quickly catches it. Lorenzo smiles.
MIRANDOLA (CONT'D)
Look beyond the surface. As you do
with marble.
Michelangelo turns the coin, tracing it as if it were stone.
MICHELANGELO
A laurel crown, yes, but here-
(indicating with
precision)
A knot at his throat. As if his
words bound him to the world.
Poliziano exchanges a knowing glance with Lorenzo.
LANDINO
(touching his right
hand)
And if the knot were here instead?
MICHELANGELO
Fate, not destiny. The right hand
creates, the left receives. Like
this face, worn by time, the marble
knows too.
LORENZO
This is why we chose you. You see
the bonds between things.
CORRIDOR
O.S. VOICES in passionate debate. Michelangelo hurries along,
barely containing his excitement. He practically flies down
THE STAIRS to the
NEXT CORRIDOR
He spins and lets out a quiet LAUGH of pure joy. A sudden
MOVEMENT breaks his reverie.
A door opens silently. Piero peers through the crack, watches.
Contessina stands at the corridor's turn, her elegant figure
tense as she gazes upward. Above, a small BLUE BIRD perches
on an ornate wooden beam.
Michelangelo freezes, suddenly aware of his improper display.
He smooths his simple tunic, gathers his dignity.
MICHELANGELO
(whispered)
Madonna Contessina.
She turns, startled. Though she carries herself with the grace
of her station, her eyes hold a girl's warmth.
CONTESSINA
Michelangelo! I- forgive my state.
My bird-
(gesturing upward)
She escaped while her cage was being
cleaned.
The bird shifts restlessly. With the same grace he uses at
his sculptor's bench, Michelangelo removes his outer garment.
MICHELANGELO
Be still. Like when you pose for
your portrait-
Contessina dutifully does not move. Michelangelo studies the
bird, calculating. O.S. VOICES from the study grow louder.
CONTESSINA
(urgent whisper)
If my governess discovers I'm alone.
MICHELANGELO
Trust me.
He carefully casts his garment and envelops the bird gently,
its wings barely rustling inside the fabric.
His hands move tenderly to extract the trembling creature.
As he transfers it to Contessina's hands, their fingers touch.
Neither withdraws. Time seems to stop.
The last sunlight catches gold threads in her dress, a loose
hair from her modest coif. Their eyes meet, artist and
nobleman's daughter, boy and girl, for just this moment equal
in their youth.
CONTESSINA
(barely above a whisper)
I am betrothed to another.
A deliberate COUGH echoes from the shadows. Mirandola steps
out, his scholarly face unreadable.
Contessina clutches the bird to her chest, her cheeks flushing.
She hurries away. Her SILK SKIRTS WHISPER against stone.
Mirandola steps forward.
Piero closes the door, unseen.
MIRANDOLA
My young friend.
(gentle but firm)
You have chosen a path of great
beauty, through art, through
intellect, through the divine.
Michelangelo remains frozen, staring after Contessina.
MIRANDOLA (CONT'D)
I have walked this path myself,
forsaking earthly pleasures for higher
ones.
(MORE)
MIRANDOLA (CONT'D)
Remember our discussions, how the
soul ascends through beauty toward
the divine. Some beauties we must
appreciate from afar, yes?
In the deepening shadows, Michelangelo's young face shows the
first real understanding of what his gift will cost him.
Lamplight wavers across stone walls where masons' marks are
still visible, the palazzo between completion and possibility.
FILIPPO STROZZI (62) sits with assured stillness, his broad
frame clad in expensive wool. Like much of his palace-in-
progress, the table is new but the silver that graces it are
Strozzi heirlooms, a calculated display of ancestral power.
Savonarola occupies the place of honor, his stark Dominican
habit out of place against the chair's plush velvet cushion.
Francesco Valori studies both men, his fingers steepled like
a man accustomed to weighing risk.
VALORI
In the Signoria, Lorenzo no longer
attends to matters of the republic.
His physicians speak in hushed tones.
STROZZI
The Magnificent One has cheated death
before.
SAVONAROLA
Death cannot be cheated forever.
Even Solomon in all his glory-
A SERVANT appears with a platter of finches wrapped in grape
leaves. Strozzi waves him back before the plates can be set.
STROZZI
Fra Girolamo prefers simple fare.
Bread and wine only.
SAVONAROLA
While children starve in the Oltrarno,
how can any Christian feast?
PAOLO ANTONIO SODERINI (42) as wise a statesman as any, nods.
SODERINI
Yesterday I saw a woman sell her
wedding ring to feed her family.
(MORE)
SODERINI (CONT'D)
Yet the Medici commission new jewels
for their madonnas.
Through the window, workers lay stones in the fading light,
their rhythmic TAPPING a counterpoint to the conversation.
VALORI
Lorenzo's patronage has made Florence
the jewel of Tuscany.
SAVONAROLA
(watching the laborers)
Jewels. Always jewels. But what
does scripture say of pearls before
swine?
An uncomfortable silence. Even the workers slow their TAPPING.
STROZZI
Surely there is room in Florence for
both piety and prosperity? My own
palazzo will host both a chapel and
a banking hall.
VALORI
And when Il Magnifico is gone, what
then? His son is no statesman.
Piero's temper runs hot, and his
judgment runs thin.
SAVONAROLA
Like these walls, Florence stands
unfinished. God has given us a
moment, perhaps only a moment, to
choose her final form.
VALORI
And how would you shape her, Fra
Girolamo?
SAVONAROLA
First through the children. They
see truth that their parents have
forgotten. Already in San Marco,
the novices speak of visions-
STROZZI
Visions can be dangerous things.
SAVONAROLA
More dangerous is closing our eyes
to God's warnings. Look at your own
sons, Filippo.
(MORE)
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
Do they spend more hours with their
account books or their prayers?
SODERINI
There are others who share your
dreams, Fra Girolamo. In the
Signoria, in the guilds, even among
the artists.
STROZZI
Dreams must be handled carefully.
The Pazzi dreamed once.
SAVONAROLA
The Pazzi dreamed of earthly power.
I dream of heavenly Florence, a city
transformed, purified. Where even
the walls of palaces will shine not
with gold but with divine light.
Savonarola gazes at the unfinished chambers around them.
Strozzi's hand tightens on his goblet.
VALORI
And how does one begin such a
transformation?
SAVONAROLA
With fire, Francesco. Always with
fire. First in the heart, then-
He trails off as a SERVANT brings a brass brazier. The coals
glow red, casting shadows across the still-rough floor.
STROZZI
(studying the flames)
Fire can warm or consume, Fra
Girolamo.
SAVONAROLA
(face lit by the
brazier)
Yes. And soon Florence must choose.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
Morning Revelations in the Workshop
INT. SAN MARCO SCULPTURE GARDEN - WORKSHOP - SUNRISE
Michelangelo, asleep on a cot, fully clothed, boots caked
with marble dust, jolts awake. In three rapid strides, he
reaches the work sink, plunges his head under RUSHING WATER.
He surfaces, shakes his curls, dries his face with a cloth.
O.S FOOTSTEPS. Lorenzo enters, moving slower than usual but
eyes bright with anticipation. Ficino and Mirandola follow.
LORENZO
Good morning. We're excited to see
what's kept you working through the
night.
MICHELANGELO
Il Magnifico, you shouldn't have
come. I'd have brought this to you.
LORENZO
Art is worth the effort.
MICHELANGELO
Good morning signores.
FICINO
Mercury aligns with Gemini today. A
fortuitous time for your revelation.
MIRANDOLA
Come, Michelangelo. Show us your
latest creation. And, hopefully our
teachings.
MICHELANGELO
May I first describe my intent?
Lorenzo nods, lowers himself carefully onto a workshop stool.
Michelangelo yanks a sheet covering a bas relief of Mother
Mary sitting on a square stone at the base of a stairway.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
This is an homage to Donatello's
spatial illusions. Look closely, no
more than two inches of stone is
removed from the surface. Yet the
stairs suggest infinity. Mother
Mary becomes the ladder to God.
MIRANDOLA
A genius idea, particularly as you
sculpted the Holy Mother in profile,
which reminds me of the funeral
portraits on classical plaques. Was
this intentional?
MICHELANGELO
Everything is intentional.
Lorenzo's eyes light up, momentarily masking his fatigue.
LORENZO
The secret teachings. Shall we
decode them?
FICINO
The monumental form of the Madonna.
She sits on a square stone, similar
to Egyptian royalty. And that halo
breaking the border-
MICHELANGELO
In the world, not of it.
MIRANDOLA
The square stone beneath her-
MICHELANGELO
Symbolizes the physical universe.
Its four sides represent north, south,
east and west. These ideas make
space measurable and comprehensible.
By sitting on the stone square, Mother
Mary symbolically gives birth to all
physical creation.
Lorenzo studies the muscular back of the infant Jesus, the
right arm positioned peculiarly.
LORENZO
And Jesus? His face turns away as
he suckles his mother's bosom. Does
this mean he's not ready to assume
his destined place in the world?
MICHELANGELO
A being in time, yearning to break
free. Even while nursing, he senses
his destiny. His musculature
signifies his divine nature.
LORENZO
Bravo, Michelangelo. You've learned
well.
Michelangelo bows his head with genuine humility. Lorenzo
rises with the help of his cane.
FICINO & MIRANDOLA
Very well, indeed. Bravo.
LORENZO
This small piece is a testimony to
your hard work, your studying, and
your talent.
Michelangelo watches them leave, noting how Ficino and
Mirandola hover near Lorenzo's elbows. He picks up a chisel,
turns to an unfinished sculpture.
OUTSIDE
As Ficino and Mirandola walk protectively astride Lorenzo,
the sound of TAPPING ON MARBLE.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
A Call to Repentance
INT. DUOMO CATHEDRAL - MORNING
Light filters dimly through the oculus of Brunelleschi's dome.
The air THRUMS with anticipation as PEOPLE in winter wool
pack the pews, standing room only.
Savonarola enters. The Crowd hushes. His back to the Crowd,
Savonarola ascends the lectern. Arms thrust skyward, he wheels
around dramatically.
SAVONAROLA
Repent! Repent, I say unto thee!
The hand of the Almighty is upon us!
Already I see the sky darkening with
the smoke of the unfaithful, the
flames of Sodom and Gomorrah licking
at our city's gates. The sword does
not hang - it descends!
Savonarola scans the crowd, his eyes burning with fervor.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
If you desire salvation, you must
repent. If you seek the lord's mercy,
cry out to Him!
Savonarola descends to the central aisle. He paces, confronting
the Congregation with his penetrating gaze.
SAVONAROLA
Your philosophers speak of virtue,
but their words are hollow! Your
artists paint saints with the faces
of courtesans! Each day you drift
further from God's grace, seduced by
the whispers of antiquity.
His intensity causes a WOMAN to swoon.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
The lord has sent me, a poor Dominican
friar, as a voice crying out in the
wilderness. "Make straight a highway
for your God."
Savonarola returns to the lectern, pausing to scan the Crowd.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
Florence, once the jewel of Tuscany,
now a golden calf dancing before
false gods! The day of reckoning is
not near - it is here! And in its
wake, your silks will be rags, your
perfumes will be ashes, your painted
faces will rot beneath the earth!
The Crowd stirs. WOMEN dab their eyes with handkerchiefs.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
When you hear my call, bring forth
your vanities. Your dice, your masks,
your wanton pictures, your worldly
books that lead you from God's truth.
Bring your mirrors and fine silks,
your perfumes and painted faces.
WOMAN
Spare us, good father!
SAVONAROLA
(with terrifying
gentleness)
God spares the penitent, woman. But
first, the cleansing fire. Florence
shall be purified, transformed into
a New Jerusalem!
The Crowd MURMURS, a mix of fear and fervor.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
Go now. Examine your consciences.
Let those who love God's truth more
than earthly pleasures make ready
for the day of reckoning.
(blessing the Crowd)
May the Lord be with you.
CROWD IN UNISON
And also with you.
The Crowd disperses, many wiping tears. Savonarola remains at
the lectern, eyes closed in prayer as light streams through
the dome above him.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Religious Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
The Art of Mortality
EXT. MEDICI PALACE - VIA LARGA - FLORENCE - DAY
Poliziano and Mirandola pause at the massive wooden door,
their breath visible in the crystalline winter air.
POLIZIANO
Giovanni, why doesn't Lorenzo have
palace guards?
MIRANDOLA
For all his wealth and power, Lorenzo
has an egalitarian spirit.
Just inside the door, the ELDERLY PORTER arises from his stool,
a copy of the Aeneid in hand.
ELDERLY PORTER
Conte Pico, Messer Poliziano.
POLIZIANO
And how does Virgil speak to you
this cold day, old friend?
ELDERLY PORTER
Ah, Messer Poliziano, Virgil speaks
of war this fine day.
Rising with practiced slowness of age, he pulls the smaller
of two bells. TWO MEASURED RINGS announce the arrival of
Lorenzo's inner circle.
MARBLE STAIRS
Poliziano and Mirandola ascend the wide staircase. Through
tall windows, snow begins to fall.
SECOND FLOOR CORRIDOR
Domenico Ghirlandaio is in hushed conversation with De Becchi.
They pause, bow slightly as Poliziano and Mirandola pass.
GHIRLANDAIO
How does he face it?
DE BECCHI
Like a true artist - studying death's
approach as if it were another
classical form to master.
BERTOLDO'S CHAMBER
Lorenzo stands at the window, leaning heavily on his cane
watching snow fall on the statues below. Bertoldo lies in an
ornate bed, face drawn but eyes bright.
Michelangelo adds herbs to a brazier near the bed. The task
keeps him busy while his eyes never leave his master's face.
Nearby, Giuliano clutches a portfolio. Giovanfrancesco watches
the snow fall. Matteo fingers rosary beads.
Poliziano and Mirandola enter followed by De Becchi.
BERTOLDO
The first snow falls on Lorenzo's
garden.
POLIZIANO
(moving to the bedside)
"As vapor rises to heaven and descends
again as pure snow, so does the
artist's soul ascend to divine beauty
and return bearing its gifts."
MIRANDOLA
As Plato writes in the Phaedrus,
between the realm of pure forms and
earthly shadows.
BERTOLDO
Yes, Pico. That's what these young
ones must understand.
(his eyes find
Giovanfrancesco)
Your Perseus, Francesco, how does he
stand between worlds?
Giovanfrancesco steps forward, confusion crossing his features.
POLIZIANO
Think as Plotinus teaches us, between
the sensible and the intelligible
realms.
MIRANDOLA
Like Mercury himself, messenger
between gods and men.
BERTOLDO
Every hero walks that edge. Show me
Perseus hovering between man and
monster, between mercy and violence.
Understanding dawns in Giovanfrancesco's eyes. Michelangelo's
hands still their work at the brazier.
MIRANDOLA
(to Giuliano)
And your Madonna, she stands between
heaven and earth, joy and sorrow.
BERTOLDO
The mysteries live in these spaces
between. In the moment before grief
becomes acceptance, before faith
becomes sight.
(MORE)
BERTOLDO (CONT'D)
(to Michelangelo)
You feel it in the stone, don't you,
ragazzo? The way truth shivers
between what is bound and what is
free?
The snow falls heavier, muffling the SOUNDS of Florence.
Poliziano moves to the window beside Lorenzo.
POLIZIANO
(to the artists)
Remember what our Ficino teaches.
Every artist partakes of three
heavens, the mind where beauty is
conceived, the eye that perceives it-
MIRANDOLA
And the hand that gives it form.
BERTOLDO
(his voice carrying
fresh urgency)
Listen. All of you. Art is the
bridge between worlds. Between
thought and form, spirit and matter.
(to Matteo)
Your prayers shape the invisible.
When you speak, the divine logos
make them visible.
(to Giuliano)
Your careful lines. Let them dance
between precision and passion.
He breaks into a COUGHING fit. Michelangelo supports him as
Mirandola steps forward, concern etching his young face.
MIRANDOLA
Master, perhaps we should-
BERTOLDO
No. There's more. Always more.
(his eyes take in
each face)
The ancients knew. Every true work
of art is a door. Some open to
heaven, some to hell, some to the
human heart. Your task is to stand
at the threshold and show us what
you see.
LORENZO
(crossing to pat
Bertoldo's hand)
Rest now, old friend. You've shown
us the way through those doors.
BERTOLDO
Keep them open for these young ones.
They carry our vision forward into a
time we cannot see.
In the garden below, snow cloaks the ancient statues. Their
blind eyes seem to watch as one age ends and another begins.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
A Somber Morning in the Workshop
INT. SAN MARCO SCULPTURE GARDEN - WORKSHOP - DAWN
First light seeps through windows wet with snow DRIPPING as
it melts. Michelangelo stands, chisel poised over a relief.
O.S. URGENT FOOTSTEPS draw his attention. He turns as Ficino
hurries across the courtyard, physician's case clutched tight.
The SCRAPE of chisels and MUTTERED frustration filter from
ADJACENT WORKSHOP
Bugiardini works with controlled aggression, each strike
forceful and precise. A CHIP of stone flies through the air.
Rustici studies his own piece with frustration.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
What would Bertoldo say about my
composition?
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
It was easier when he steered our
hands.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
Nothing is easy now that he's gone.
Michelangelo stands at the door, bemused.
MICHELANGELO
The figure is in the stone. Either
you see it or you don't.
The door opens. POLIZIANO enters.
POLIZIANO
Michelangelo? The library.
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
(sotto)
The golden child.
Poliziano turns sharply. Before he can reply a SERVANT appears.
SERVANT
Messer Poliziano, Il Magnifico is
ready. Messers Mirandola and Ficino
are with him.
POLIZIANO
(to Michelangelo)
The library will wait.
Poliziano hurries out. Michelangelo returns to the
ADJACENT STUDIO
Rustici and Bugiardini follow, watch him work.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
Another consultation about Lorenzo's
gout.
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
When was the last time Il Magnifico
came to see our progress?
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
(softer, realizing)
First Bertoldo, now Lorenzo.
MOMENTS LATER
The three Apprentices watch a curtained litter as it's portered
with care through the courtyard.
VIA LARGA
Mirandola, Ficino, and Poliziano oversee the litter's transfer
to waiting horses, while CITIZENS kneel in reverent silence.
Even Savonarola pauses, makes the sign of the cross as the
somber procession departs, his gesture echoed by the CROWD.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
36 -
Confession of the Artist
INT. SAN MARCO CHURCH - EVENING
The last rays of sun filter through Fra Angelico's windows,
casting jeweled shadows across stone floors. A MONK hurries
past, clutching his rosary.
Michelangelo enters
THE CONFESSIONAL
Through the simple wooden screen, only shadows move.
Michelangelo kneels, marble dust clinging to his hands.
SAVONAROLA
Speak, my son.
MICHELANGELO
Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.
It has been seven days since my last
confession. I am troubled by visions.
SAVONAROLA
What sort of visions my son?
O.S. distant MURMUR of BROTHERS at vespers.
MICHELANGELO
When I carve I see more than the
human form. In the marble, I see
ancient wisdom and divine truth as
one. The philosophers speak of this
unity. I feel it in my hands.
SAVONAROLA
And which God guides those hands?
The one who commanded "make no graven
images," or the ones who filled Rome
with marble flesh?
MICHELANGELO
Every strike of my chisel is a prayer.
SAVONAROLA
A prayer shaped by Ficino's pagan
dreams. Would you make Christ and
Apollo brothers?
MICHELANGELO
I carve only what God has placed in
the stone. To free it is an act of
faith.
SAVONAROLA
Faith twisted by philosophers who
claim Solomon's divine love is the
same as Platos?
The monastery bell TOLLS.
MICHELANGELO
The stone shows us how far we've
fallen. How far we must climb.
SAVONAROLA
On a ladder built of pride? Tell
me, sculptor, when you stand before
your marble, do you see God's face
or your own?
A long pause. Only the GUTTERING of chapel candles.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
For your penance, three Ave Marias.
And remember, pride hardens like
marble. But even stone can shatter.
Through the screen, Savonarola's shadow seems to grow.
SAVONAROLA (CONT'D)
The day comes when every man must
choose, beauty that glorifies God or
beauty that glorifies the hand that
made it. Revelations tells us what
comes of such vanity.
MICHELANGELO
Yes, father.
Michelangelo crosses himself in the growing dark.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Spiritual"]
Ratings
Scene
37 -
Masks of Morality
EXT. PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA - FLORENCE - EVENING
Michelangelo and Francesco walk past walls lit by torchlight.
MICHELANGELO
He asked if I could serve both god
and art.
FRANCESCO
Can you?
They reach a group of YOUNG MEN destroying carnival masks
with fierce purpose. They stop. Watch a YOUTH throw a painted
mask to the ground and CRUSH it underfoot.
YOUNG MEN
(singing)
"Children of Florence, abandon your
dancing..."
(shattering masks)
"Cast off your ribbons, your masks
of sin..."
MICHELANGELO
When I carve, I seek divine truth in
the stone. But what if the seeking
itself is pride?
Michelangelo turns to face
CENTER OF THE SQUARE
A DOMINICAN MONK kneels, touches his forehead to the
cobblestones.
He rises, makes the sign of the cross, scatters ash in a wide
circle, his lips moving in silent prayer.
FRANCESCO
Truth wears many faces. Look there.
NEAR THE LOGGIA
Piero de Medici sprawls on a bench. His COMPANIONS cluster
around him. Dice TUMBLES from his jeweled fingers.
PIERO
Double or nothing! When I rule
Florence as my father did-
Two WOOL MERCHANTS stop to watch. One grips his account book
tighter, the other shakes his head.
MICHELANGELO
Perhaps he's right. I polish marble
while children go hungry.
The Monk rises, ash on his hands. Dice RATTLE against stone.
FRANCESCO
And every saint you carve lifts a
thousand eyes to heaven. Lorenzo
understands this city's soul.
They watch Piero throw the dice.
MICHELANGELO
While his son gambles with its spirit.
Piero loses. A purse of gold changes hands.
As Francesco and Michelangelo walk away, the Monk fades into
the darkness, his prayer a WHISPER, as another mask SHATTERS.
FRANCESCO
And others wait to claim it.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Political Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
38 -
Reflections in the Garden
EXT. FICINO'S VILLA - GARDEN FOUNTAIN - CAREGGI - DAY
Light dances on WATER FLOWING from marble masks into a circular
basin, the gentle TINKLE a soothing backdrop.
Lorenzo reclines on a cushioned chair. Poliziano sits at the
fountain's edge, a volume of Plato in his hand. Ficino measures
herbs at a table.
LORENZO
Read that passage again, Angelo.
The one about beauty.
POLIZIANO
(reading)
"Beauty is the splendor of truth
revealed through love's ascent toward
the divine."
Lorenzo's attention drifts to the water, where concentric
rings spread from falling drops. His pained face softens in
contemplation.
LORENZO
Look there. Every ripple on the
water shows us divine truth. Each
circle perfect, each ripple carrying
the first motion outward, like the
soul ascending through spheres of
knowledge.
FICINO
As above, so below. The same divine
proportion in your circles as in the
orbits of planets.
A SERVANT (20) appears through a laurel archway.
SERVANT
Il Magnifico, the sculptor is here.
LORENZO
Ah! Send him in. Marsilio, your
remedies can wait.
Michelangelo appears, carrying a leather portfolio.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
Come. Let me see what fire you've
drawn from stone while I lie here
growing soft as water.
Michelangelo opens his portfolio to reveal drawings of figures
emerging from shadow, muscles straining toward light, faces
caught between agony and ecstasy.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
(studying a drawing)
You seek something deeper than
surface, don't you? Not just the
flesh, but what moves it.
MICHELANGELO
There's something hidden. In how
the body speaks its truth.
LORENZO
(to Poliziano)
You see? He hungers for knowledge
like you hunger for verses.
O.S. Heavy FOOTSTEPS on the garden path. Piero bursts in,
papers clutched in his fist.
PIERO
Father, the Wool Guild demands-
LORENZO
Demands? Or requests?
Piero falters. Poliziano and Ficino exchange glances, the
physician's hands stilling over his herbs.
PIERO
The Guild Master insists-
LORENZO
(to Michelangelo)
A moment, please. This too is art
of a kind.
(to Piero)
Sit. Listen first, then speak.
Piero sits, restless. Lorenzo's face softens.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
When you rule Florence- if you would
rule Florence- remember this. Every
man's opinion holds a grain of truth.
Listen to them all. But follow only
those that honor both wisdom and
conscience.
PIERO
Yes, yes, but the Guild-
LORENZO
Did you hear what I said, or merely
wait for me to finish?
Michelangelo stands awkwardly as the fountain's steady flow
underscores the tense silence.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
Go. Read the Guild's petition again.
Consider what lies beneath their
demands. Return when you understand
the difference between hearing and
listening.
Piero rises, his frustration evident. As he strides out-
LORENZO (CONT'D)
And son? Remember, Florence is not
a possession to inherit. She is a
spirit to serve.
Piero departs. Lorenzo closes his eyes, the WATER'S MUSIC
washing through the garden. He reaches into his robe and
withdraws a folded piece of paper, worn soft with age.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
(to Michelangelo)
I remember the day at Ghirlandaio's
workshop. So many eager faces, all
hoping to join our little academy in
the garden. Such talent in Florence-
(unfolding the paper)
But when I read their applications,
each listing their merits, their
training, only one dared write this.
He holds up the paper bearing the word: "Destiny."
MICHELANGELO
You asked why we were worthy of the
school.
LORENZO
Such simplicity. Such certainty.
This told me something about the
fire in you.
The fountain's STEADY FLOW fills the silence between them.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
You'll need to go deeper than these
drawings. Past skin, past muscle,
to where spirit joins matter. The
ancients knew these mysteries.
FICINO
How the artist must grasp the divine
form before his hands can reveal it
in matter.
POLIZIANO
The way poets find verses hidden in
silence.
LORENZO
Each art seeks its own path to truth.
(gestures to the
fountain)
Like water finding its way through
stone, always descending, yet always
(MORE)
LORENZO (CONT'D)
rising again in spray and mist,
reaching toward heaven.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Philosophical"]
Ratings
Scene
39 -
The Final Confrontation
INT. FICINO'S VILLA - LORENZO'S CHAMBER - CAREGGI - AFTERNOON
Lorenzo reclines against silk pillows, a volume of Cicero's
"De Officiis" cast aside, as he looks onto the garden below.
Monna Lucia brings tea to Lorenzo's bedside.
MONNA LUCIA
Il Magnifico, Fra Savonarola is here.
LORENZO
Thank you, Lucia. You may send him
in.
Monna Lucia smooths Lorenzo's bed covers as she looks around
to ensure all is in order before leaving.
MOMENTS LATER
Savonarola enters. The room's silk hangings, gilt-framed
paintings, classical sculptures shrink in his presence.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
You honor me with this visit, father.
SAVONAROLA
I come to offer the church's last
comfort.
LORENZO
And your conditions for that comfort?
Savonarola moves to Lorenzo's bed.
SAVONAROLA
Three things are required. First,
you must have true faith.
LORENZO
In God's mercy, or your judgment of
it?
SAVONAROLA
Second, you must restore all that
was wrongfully taken.
LORENZO
The Medici accounts are open to audit.
SAVONAROLA
I speak not just of gold.
A moment of silence broken only by Lorenzo's labored BREATHS.
LORENZO
And the third?
SAVONAROLA
You must restore to Florence her
true freedom. Return to her people
what your family has gathered to
itself.
Lorenzo struggles to sit upright, summoning the dignity that
once commanded Florence.
LORENZO
I have gathered art from darkness,
learning from ignorance, beauty from
chaos. These I give freely to
Florence.
SAVONAROLA
While her children starve, you feed
them pagan marble.
LORENZO
Each man hungers differently, father.
Some for bread, some for beauty,
some-
(looking directly at
Savonarola)
For power wrapped in prophecy.
Thunder RUMBLES in the distance.
SAVONAROLA
Will you meet these conditions?
A LIGHT RAIN begins to fall. Lorenzo's gaze goes to the garden,
where ancient statues stand among roses and irises in bloom.
LORENZO
I have faith in God's mercy, Father.
The rest, history will judge.
Savonarola's face hardens, but he proceeds with the rites.
M.O.S. Savonarola administers words of absolution as Lorenzo's
eyes drift to the window, to his Florence, beautiful and
fragile in the fading light.
INTERCUT - SAN MARCO WORKSHOP / LORENZO'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Michelangelo's chisel STRIKES marble with methodical RHYTHM.
A candle burns low, its flame casting a giant shadow. O.S.
The BELLS OF THE DUOMO begin to TOLL.
Michelangelo pauses. Clear and commanding through Florence's
streets, he listens as they TOLL: ONE... TWO... THREE... FOUR.
Through the valley, a DISTANT PARISH BELL picks up the TOLL.
Lorenzo lies motionless, his BREATH LABORED, his legitimate
children in attendance.
GIOVANNI DE MEDICI (16), kneels beside Lorenzo's bed. His
cardinal's ring catches candlelight as he prays silently.
GIULIANO DE MEDICI (13), watches his eldest brother, Piero,
pace the room.
LUCREZIA SALVIATI (22) stands by the window.
LUCREZIA SALVIATI
(whispers)
Eight, nine, ten, eleven. Mother
always said souls depart at the
eleventh hour, when prayers hold
most power.
Contessina grips her rosary; its beads CLICK like tiny bells.
Thunder CRACKS. Lightening FLASHES in the distance.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Spiritual"]
Ratings
Scene
40 -
The Last Breath of a Florentine Legacy
EXT. DUOMO - FLORENCE - NIGHT
LIGHTENING strikes Brunelleschi's dome. The gilded copper
ball EXPLODES. Fragments rain down on the empty piazza.
RETURN TO INTERCUT - SAN MARCO WORKSHOP / LORENZO'S BEDROOM
Michelangelo pauses as the ECHO of the explosion reaches him.
Thunder CRACKS again. Wind GUSTS through the bedroom windows,
extinguishes candles.
CONTESSINA
(frightened whisper)
The lights-
PIERO
Silence.
SERVANTS rush to relight candles. In their glow, Lorenzo's
eyes open. He tries to speak.
GIOVANNI
Father?
PIERO
(rushing to the bed)
What is it? What does he say?
In the candlelight, his gaze finds his children's faces,
lingers on Piero's.
LORENZO
(barely a whisper)
Florence...
Piero leans closer.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
Is more fragile than she knows.
His hand moves weakly, reaching. Giovanni clasps it.
LORENZO (CONT'D)
Guard her well.
A last BREATH, soft as a sigh, escapes his lips.
PIERO
(to SERVANT)
Ride. First to the Signoria. Then
the Archbishop.
The Servant bows and hurries out.
O.S. The GALLOP of HOOVES ECHOES through the night, growing
fainter as the rider descends toward Florence.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Political Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
41 -
The Weight of Loss
INT. PALAZZO VECCHIO
JACOPO DI GIOVANNI GUICCIARDINI (70), the Gonfaloniere of
Justice, stands at his window. A MEDICI MESSENGER (16), bursts
in, rain-soaked and breathless.
MESSENGER
Il Magnifico-
(catching his breath)
Has died.
Guicciardini's face betrays nothing, though his hands tighten
on his official seal.
GUICCIARDINI
(to his SECRETARY)
Summon the Priors.
(to a GUARD)
Alert the night watch. The city
must know its protector has fallen.
INT. ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE
RINALDO ORSINI (63), Archbishop of Florence, kneels before
his private altar. O.S POUNDING FOOTSTEPS ECHO.
The Messenger is shown in by a sleepy CHAPLAIN. He WHISPERS
his news. Orsini rises, age and gravity in every movement.
ORSINI
(crossing himself)
God receive his soul.
(to the Chaplain)
Prepare the death notices. All
churches must be notified.
INT. SAN MARCO MONASTERY
A NOVICE runs through torch-lit corridors, sandals SLAPPING
against stone.
SAVONAROLA'S CELL
Savonarola rises from his desk. His thin fingers trace the
margin of his open Bible where he's written prophecies.
SAVONAROLA
So falls the flower of Florence.
Now God's pruning begins.
EXT. STREETS OF FLORENCE
NIGHT WATCHMEN with lanterns and halberds stand at their posts.
MONTAGE M.O.S.
- The CAPTAIN OF THE WATCH dispatches men to:
- Guard the city gates
- Position extra men at the Palazzo Vecchio
- Alert the guild houses
- Light extra torches in key squares
END MONTAGE
INT. FICINO'S VILLA - LOGGIA - CARREGI
Lucrezia and Contessina watch Florence's distant lights glimmer
through storm-washed air. An unnatural stillness has fallen.
So faint it might be thunder, a CHORUS of BELLS RISES from
Florence, not distinct tolls but a wave of BRONZE rolling up
the valley slopes, carrying their terrible news.
CONTESSINA
The city mourns.
INT. SAN MARCO SCULPTURE GARDEN - WORKSHOP
The death KNELL reaches Michelangelo. His chisel slips, scoring
the marble. He stares at the mark, hands shaking. Tears blur
his vision. He blinks them back, furiously STRIKING the stone.
His chisel falls and he presses his forehead against the cool
marble, shoulders shaking with silent SOBS.
O.S. the BELLS of Florence TOLL their lament.
TIME LAPSE - CHANGE OF SEASONS
The Medici Sculpture Garden: Summer morphs into Fall, into
Winter, into Spring and again through Summer and Fall (1494).
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
42 -
Art vs. Power: A Tense Confrontation
INT. MEDICI PALACE - LORENZO'S FORMER STUDY - MORNING
The room has changed: scrolls left unrolled, philosophical
instruments shoved aside for wine cups.
Piero sits in his father's chair, a boy trying on a giant's
clothes. TWO YOUNG NOBLES flank him, their presence as much
guards as companions.
Michelangelo stands before them, a small relief in his hands.
PIERO
And what eternal truth does this
reveal, O great artist? Some mystery
from my father's garden of wisdom?
FIRST NOBLE
Profound mysteries from a craftsman's
chisel... Your father would be...
intrigued, my Lord.
MICHELANGELO
The composition follows principles
your father taught-
PIERO
(tossing the relief
aside)
My father collected curiosities.
Florence needs certainties now.
The relief strikes the table edge. Michelangelo flinches.
MICHELANGELO
Your father saw beauty in truth, my
lord. And truth in beauty.
Piero arises, crosses to look out the window.
PIERO
Beauty? Truth? Look around you,
sculptor. The world changes. Art
must serve power now, not dreams.
Michelangelo lifts his chin, holds his tongue. Piero turns, a
son drowning in his father's legacy.
PIERO (CONT'D)
Why are you still here? The garden's
empty. The academy's dead. Take
your chisels and your theories
elsewhere.
Michelangelo retrieves his work and turns to leave.
MICHELANGELO
Some see stone. Others see glory.
The door closes behind Michelangelo.
SECOND NOBLE
Perhaps you shouldn’t have dismissed
him. That one sees further than
most.
PIERO
Then let him see his way out of
Florence.
(pouring wine)
The French cross the Alps. The banks
grow cautious. The Signoria whispers.
(cup trembling in his
hand)
My father gathered poets and
philosophers. I need soldiers
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
43 -
The Struggle for Artistic Truth
EXT. SAN MARCO SCULPTURE GARDEN - WORKSHOP - MORNING
Rustici wraps his tools. Bugiardini stacks his drawings.
Michelangelo storms in clutching the rejected relief.
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
You tried, then?
MICHELANGELO
Tried to speak to a wall of silk and
ignorance. Might as well teach
sculpture to sheep.
GIOVANFRANCESCO RUSTICI
They say Savonarola speaks truth.
That art leads souls astray.
MICHELANGELO
And what truth is that? That beauty
is sin? That God gave us hands to
create, then damned us for using
them?
MATTEO CAVALCANTI
Choose carefully, friend. Florence
changes like quicksilver these days.
Even walls have ears.
INT. SAN MARCO SCULPTURE GARDEN - WORKSHOP - NIGHT
Michelangelo kneels among scattered drawings of classical
forms, anatomical details, faces caught in rapture. His hands
shake as he gathers them.
MICHELANGELO
Beauty or sin? Divine purpose or
vanity?
His trembling hands hover over the images. With sudden
violence, he RIPS a study of muscle and bone, then another.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Father in heaven, show me the path.
Whether to seek truth in beauty or
believe beauty blinds us to your
greater glory.
He rises, presses his forehead to marble, grips the stone's
edges like a condemned man clutching a confessor's robes.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Guide these hands. Let them serve
you, whether through art or prayer
or-
Michelangelo steps back, face turned up, hands reaching for
the marble like a supplicant.
FRANCESCO
Stone endures. Paper forgives.
Michelangelo whips around. Moonlight reveals tear tracks on
his cheeks. Francesco steps into the room, his garments paint-
stained, gold leaf glinting at his cuffs.
FRANCESCO (CONT'D)
I never thought to see you, of all
people, doubting the worth of a line
well-drawn.
MICHELANGELO
Each stroke feels like a choice now.
FRANCESCO
The city trembles at such choices.
Even Naples watches our weakness
since Il Magnifico passed. Today,
we painted saints with downcast eyes.
MICHELANGELO
Ghirlandaio's no fool. He sees where
the power's shifting and paints
accordingly.
FRANCESCO
And you? You destroy your work as
if it's heresy. What do you see
that frightens you so?
He kneels beside Michelangelo, picks up a torn anatomical
study, matches its pieces together.
MICHELANGELO
They seek what lies beneath. Beyond
flesh, beyond stone. The sacred
fire that shapes us all.
O.S. the DISTANT CHANT of a Dominican procession.
FRANCESCO
The Prior at Santo Spirito... his
hospital holds secrets for those who
dare to look closer. To understand
God's greatest creation in full.
MICHELANGELO
The hospital?
FRANCESCO
Unless you fear the friar's
certainties more than your own
questions.
(gathering drawings)
Artists choose sides now. The old
ways fade a little more with each
passing day.
MICHELANGELO
And you, Francesco?
FRANCESCO
I choose the truth of the line.
Your hands weren't made for prayer
alone. Neither were mine.
Francesco takes Michelangelo's hands, turns them reverently.
FRANCESCO (CONT'D)
In flesh. In bone. In all God's
creation. Knowledge awaits those
with courage to seek it.
MICHELANGELO
Truth has a price.
FRANCESCO
I paint the body, Michelangelo — but
you dream in flesh and bone. Go to
Santo Spirito. Do what I cannot.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
44 -
A Night of Reflection
INT. SANTO SPIRITO HOSPITAL - NIGHT
Oil lamps cast dancing shadows and FOOTSTEPS ECHO through
stone corridors as PRIOR BICHIELLINI (60s), weathered face,
keen eyes, leads Michelangelo through the Augustinian hospital.
BICHIELLINI
The poor come at dawn, when the gates
first open. The wealthy arrive at
dusk in covered carriages.
As they pass
CORRIDORS
BICHIELLINI (CONT'D)
The fever ward, the wounded, the
dying. But you're here for what
comes after.
They descend down
WORN STONE STEPS
BICHIELLINI (CONT'D)
Your master Lorenzo understood that
knowledge serves God's glory.
MICHELANGELO
He spoke often of the ancient
physicians, how they learned by
looking within.
VAULTED CHAMBER
They enter. Three shrouded forms lie on stone tables. Carved
channels direct fluids to copper basins. High windows allow
cold night air to preserve what remains of the day's dead.
BICHIELLINI
A silk worker, brought in at terce.
(MORE)
BICHIELLINI (CONT'D)
A stone carver who fell from
scaffolding at sext. And this one-
(touches the third
shroud)
arrived as vespers rang.
Michelangelo moves to the first form, his hands hovering.
BICHIELLINI (CONT'D)
You have until the bell sounds matins.
Four hours. The body must be prepared
for burial by prime.
(crossing himself)
We grant them one night of peace
before the earth claims them.
Michelangelo draws back the shroud. He notes the callused
hands, the developed shoulder muscles, the worn knuckles.
MICHELANGELO
This man was an artist.
BICHIELLINI
Until he spoke against the wrong
sermon. Savonarola's followers grow
bold.
Michelangelo retrieves charcoal and papers from his satchel.
BICHIELLINI (CONT'D)
I'll return at the fourth watch.
Use water from that basin to clean
them. The burial shroud must show
no signs of your studies.
(moving to the door)
And, Michelangelo? The wealthy ones
go to their tombs intact. Study the
poor. They're beyond caring how
their mortal flesh serves god's
purpose.
Michelangelo nods. His hands move with reverent precision as
he begins to sketch.
MICHELANGELO
(sotto)
Not for glory. Not for pride. Only
to see. Forgive me, Father.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
45 -
The Weight of Truth
INT. SAN MARCO MONASTERY - LIBRARY - DUSK
Poliziano warms his hands by a brazier while De Becchi keeps
a watchful eye on both entrances. Mirandola hovers by a reading
stand, a leather document case at his side.
POLIZIANO
Cardinal Della Rovere digs in at
Ostia while Alexander turns the
Vatican into a Borgia vault. Who
could have imagined Rome's salvation
might depend on French spears? Irony
enough to make Cicero laugh from the
grave.
MIRANDOLA
And yet you still labor over
Justinian's codes, Angelo. Ancient
laws for a world already collapsing.
POLIZIANO
The Pandects survived fifteen
centuries, preserved by monks who
knew divine order needs earthly
wisdom. Now your Dominican prophet
would have us burn Justinian to warm
our souls.
DE BECCHI
(glancing at the door)
The friar answers to no law but
heaven's. Even emperors kneel before
visions.
POLIZIANO
So do madmen and tyrants.
MIRANDOLA
Politics, plots, possessions. Perhaps
the friar speaks truth about our
worldly corruption.
DE BECCHI
You sound ready to trade your library
for a hair shirt, Pico.
MIRANDOLA
Perhaps I've began to wonder what
truth may lie in his prophecies.
Michelangelo enters, one eye over his shoulder.
DE BECCHI
Were you followed?
MICHELANGELO
The friars believe I seek guidance
for my soul. I have much to repent.
Mirandola unfurls a scroll on the table, revealing intricate
geometric patterns.
MIRANDOLA
From Venice. Their merchants still
trade with Egypt, where fragments of
ancient wisdom survive. Though
perhaps we mistake complexity for
truth.
POLIZIANO
Careful, Pico. Florence drowns in
prophets who think simplicity is
salvation.
DE BECCHI
And their followers multiply like
vermin. Even in the Signoria, men
who debated Plato now quote Dominican
rhetoric.
POLIZIANO
Does the Prior still shield your
studies at Santo Spirito?
MICHELANGELO
Each night I go deeper. Beyond
muscle, beyond bone. The Prior
understands that some truths demand
we risk both law and soul to find
them.
(glancing over shoulder)
Though lately, more eyes watch who
comes and goes.
MIRANDOLA
So we trespass while preaching virtue.
A strange priesthood we've become.
Cutting holy flesh to glimpse the
soul.
POLIZIANO
Truth is rarely found in straight
line.
O.S. The ECHO of monks CHANTING vespers.
DE BECCHI
Take it.
(gesturing to scroll)
The patterns, the proportions, belong
in your hands now. Our time as
guardians passes.
MICHELANGELO
And our meetings?
Poliziano glances at De Becchi.
DE BECCHI
I must take my leave. I can do no
more to save Florence and Arezzo
calls me.
POLIZIANO
(bitterly)
First to face Charles's armies with
appeals to reason, now to retreat
from Dominican fury. Our Florence
demands much from her philosophers.
MIRANDOLA
Either we adapt or vanish.
De Becchi gives Michelangelo a benediction.
DE BECCHI
Knowledge endures, even when its
keepers burn. Remember that.
CLOISTER
As the Group disperses, Savonarola's measured stride intercepts
Michelangelo's path.
SAVONAROLA
These evening prayers grow frequent,
young Buonarroti.
MICHELANGELO
The soul needs constant tending,
Father.
SAVONAROLA
As do San Marco's walls. They stand
bare, awaiting images that would
lift humble hearts toward heaven.
Your gift could serve divine purpose.
MICHELANGELO
I'm honored, Father. I'll reflect
on your offer.
SAVONAROLA
Art serves God's purpose best in
God's house. And in Florence, purpose
is closely watched.
Michelangelo bows slightly, neither accepting nor rejecting.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
46 -
Snowball Politics
EXT. MEDICI PALACE - COURTYARD - DAY
Snow blankets the ground. A packed snowball STRIKES a Roman
bust, leaving a wet mark on the ancient marble.
BY THE COLONNADE
Landino and Poliziano watch Piero, wrapped in furs, hurl
another snowball at a cringing COURTIER.
LANDINO
I've accepted a post in Prato.
POLIZIANO
Like Ficino retreating to his villa,
you choose exile.
LANDINO
Under the circumstances-
POLIZIANO
And your duties to our student?
PIERO (O.S.)
Again! Who dares challenge me?
A statue CRASHES. SERVANTS scramble to collect the pieces.
LANDINO
Sometimes wisdom lies in knowing
when to step away.
POLIZIANO
You sound like our Dominican prophet.
LANDINO
I sound like a man who remembers
Lorenzo's father. When Piero the
elder grew weak things here changed
quickly, and not kindly.
(watching Piero)
This boy inherited power but not the
patience to wield it. Florence has
never been kind to princes who think
themselves gods.
POLIZIANO
Yet I stay.
LANDINO
Someone must witness. But watch
your back, Angelo. History favors
those who know when to speak... and
when to disappear.
Below, Piero lets out a vicious LAUGH and hurls another
snowball. SERVANTS duck.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
47 -
Echoes of Death in Florence
INT. SANTO SPIRITO - COLD ROOM - NIGHT
Michelangelo enters with Prior Bichiellini, breath visible in
the cold air. Three shrouded forms lie on stone tables.
Bichiellini pulls back a shroud, reveals a woman in silk, her
fingernails blue-black against bloodless skin.
PRIOR BICHIELLINI
Madonna Alessandra. She lit candles
here every vespers. Her brother
sides with Savonarola, her husband
trades in Medici gold. She made the
mistake of sipping from his wine
glass first. The Strozzi in Florence
will want answers. Those in Naples
will demand more than answers.
Bichiellini moves to another shroud, uncovers a merchant,
soft hands folded, nails similarly discolored. Michelangelo
opens the merchant's mouth; the tongue is darkened.
PRIOR BICHIELLINI (CONT'D)
Messere Capponi. He voted against
the wool tax last week. Now his son
takes his seat in the Signoria, young,
easier to persuade they say.
MICHELANGELO
When I last visited Careggi, Ficino
spoke of such signs. The darkness
here-
(indicates the tongue)
Cantarella. Different from arsenic's
bleeding lips or the green kiss of
copper.
Bichiellini uncovers the third body, a laborer, muscles twisted
from years of work. Clean nails, tongue normal.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Death comes differently to those who
dare sup with power.
PRIOR BICHIELLINI
Careful what you document in your
sketches. Some will call it murder,
others divine will.
MICHELANGELO
And who speaks for the truth of how
they died?
PRIOR BICHIELLINI
Truth? That's why Florence has so
many churches, young Buonarroti. So
each version of truth can have its
own altar.
MONTAGE - MICHELANGELO WALKS THE AWAKENING CITY
- SANTO SPIRITO - Michelangelo emerges, shoulders heavy from
his night's work.
- PONTE SANTA TRINITÀ - He walks past PORTERS straining under
wine barrels. The Arno gleams under dawn's first light. Palazzo
Spini looms above. He continues along
- VIA POR SANTA MARIA - Past workshops where ARTE DELLA SETA
WORKERS open shutters. STEAM rises from dye vats within.
- AT MERCATO VECCHIO - MARKET WOMEN claim their spots with
wooden crates and baskets.
- ON VIA CALIMALA - He passes Arte della Lana where SORTERS
separate bales of wool by quality.
- ORSANMICHELE - Beneath the Grain Guild's patron saints in
their niches, a few simple tables catch the morning sun.
Michelangelo slumps at a wooden table.
END MONTAGE
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
48 -
Divine Judgment at Orsanmichele
EXT. ORSANMICHELE - MORNING
Michelangelo dips bread into wine as pigeons peck at grain
between cobblestones around his feet.
SAVONAROLA (O.S.)
"And Jesus went into the temple, and
began to cast out them that sold and
bought."
Savonarola emerges from the stone arches.
MICHELANGELO
You quote Mark's gospel beneath Luke's
statue, Father. Do you see Florence
as your temple to cleanse?
SAVONAROLA
All Florence is his temple, young
Buonarroti. These nights among the
dead- While others read prophecy,
you read cooling flesh?
MICHELANGELO
Truth takes many forms. The
mathematics of muscle, the geometry
of bone. God's hand moves through
all.
A SERVANT GIRL stumbles, splashes wine across Michelangelo's
table. His hand jerks back from his cup.
SAVONAROLA
Ah. The artist's eye grows keen to
signs. Like so many at noble tables
these days, watching what others
pour, what others drink.
(leaning closer)
Tell me, do you draw only divine
proportion? Or do your lines trace
darker mathematics?
MICHELANGELO
If you mean to ask something, Father,
ask it.
SAVONAROLA
Three noble houses. Three cups of
wine. Each death marked by signs
your charcoal records so precisely.
MICHELANGELO
I draw what God reveals.
SAVONAROLA
God reveals much these days. To
those who read his signs properly.
Some see his judgment in empty
palaces, others in marks upon noble
flesh. What do you see, with your
artist's eye?
MICHELANGELO
I see a city where men claim to speak
for God while dealing in earthly
powers.
SAVONAROLA
And still San Marco's walls remain
bare. Is silence your reply to a
sacred commission?
MICHELANGELO
I’ve not refused, Father. But I
cannot promise to see through
another's eyes.
SAVONAROLA
Careful, sculptor. Even Plato knew
art without virtue is only shadow
play. These are days of judgment.
Michelangelo watches Savonarola walk away, looks at his cup.
He rises to leave, the wine unfinished.
MONTAGE
- Michelangelo hunches under layers of wool, rubs his hands
briskly, returns to sketching blackened fingernails.
- Outside Santo Spirito, MARKET WOMEN arrange iris blooms in
clay pots.
- Bichielli oversees BROTHERS lifting a shrouded corpse from
a coach. A gold-embroidered sleeve slips free.
- Golden light catches Ghiberti's paradise doors as Savonarola
preaches to a CROWD. Mirandola pays rapt attention.
- Michelangelo draws a corpse's black tongue.
- Yellow Plane leaves spiral in the wind, filling the courtyard
of an abandoned Medici Palace.
END MONTAGE
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Philosophical"]
Ratings
Scene
49 -
Confrontation at San Marco
INT. SAN MARCO MONASTERY - AFTERNOON
Savonarola towers over Mirandola on his knees.
MIRANDOLA
I surrender all my lands, my library,
my very identity, to the Dominican
order.
SAVONAROLA
(circling predatorily)
Your precious books? You mean
forbidden texts. Your friend
Poliziano dares to teach that Roman
law stands equal to scripture. He
spreads his heresies like a plague.
Plagues demand purification. Who
else sips from this chalice of
corruption? Name them, Mirandola.
Every last one.
MIRANDOLA
He teaches that God's wisdom speaks
through many tongues.
SAVONAROLA
Serpent tongues! While he corrupts
young scholars with Justinian's pride,
the people cry out for God's simple
truth. Name them. Every member of
your pagan academy.
MIRANDOLA
You mistake scholarly discourse for
heresy.
SAVONAROLA
Young Michelangelo, such promise,
such vulnerability.
MIRANDOLA
(rising swiftly)
Threaten me if you must. But
Poliziano and the boy are innocent.
SAVONAROLA
No one who drinks from that poisoned
well is innocent. Nor will they be
spared. Even the righteous must
endure fire before they are cleansed.
But the wicked? They shall not emerge
at all.
MIRANDOLA
You would not dare-
SAVONAROLA
I am God's instrument. What enters
the mouth cannot defile the soul,
but it can certainly clear a path
for divine justice.
MIRANDOLA
Touch any of them, and I will ensure
all of Florence knows what truly
lurks beneath your holy mask.
SAVONAROLA
Careful, count. Many accidents befall
those who swim in deep waters.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Political Intrigue"]
Ratings
Scene
50 -
Beneath the Candlelight: A Toast to Betrayal
INT. PALAZZO STROZZI - FAMILY DINING CHAMBER - NIGHT
Strozzi, Valori and Soderini dine in candlelight, a FOOD TASTER
behind each of them. A SERVANT (50s) nervously pours wine.
STROZZI
(watching his taster
sample the wine)
Three days ago, my sister's husband
took ill after dining with the Pazzi.
VALORI
A natural illness... surely.
STROZZI
The physicians found traces of arsenic
beneath his fingernails. He had
just put down his cup when the
convulsions began.
The Servant's hand wavers. Soderini pushes his cup aside.
SODERINI
And how does your sister fare?
STROZZI
She's taken the children to our villa
in Fiesole. Away from Florence's
distractions.
SODERINI
Distractions? Is that what we call
Savonarola's sermons now? The man
preaches three times a day. Each
sermon more bold than the last.
VALORI
Bold, yes. But perhaps needed.
Yesterday he called Alexander VI the
antichrist himself. Said no true
pope would sell cardinals' hats like
market vegetables.
STROZZI
Rome has survived worse critics.
VALORI
Rome survived when critics whispered.
Savonarola shouts. And enough of
Florence shouts with him. Including
some who once graced the Medici
gardens with philosophic debates.
STROZZI
In Florence, grief must be hidden
well. Especially when the poison
comes from piety.
SODERINI
And what word from His Holiness?
VALORI
The pope finds himself occupied.
His daughter's marriage negotiations
demand his full attention. Rooting
out a heretical preacher in Florence
is less pressing than Borgia
ambitions.
SODERINI
He speaks of visions. A cleansing
flame. But who can say which of us
will burn?
VALORI
The Medici burned first. That's
what matters.
STROZZI
Piero de Medici fled. There's a
difference. He'd be dead otherwise.
SODERINI
Now every noble house in Florence
watches its neighbors wondering who
will be next.
STROZZI
(studying his wine)
My sons' tutor asked to be released
from service yesterday. Says he's
joining the Dominicans.
SODERINI
Another scholar joins Mirandola.
Such minds, turned from reason to
prophecy.
Beyond the windows, a church bell TOLLS.
VALORI
They say France approaches Milan
with an army thirty thousand strong.
Their bronze cannon would shatter
our walls like pottery.
STROZZI
Let them. Perhaps French steel will
prove cleaner than Florentine poison.
Though I doubt King Charles will
preserve our philosophic academies.
Strozzi raises his cup. His companions follow, each watching
the others drink first.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
51 -
The Burning of Beauty
EXT. PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA - DAWN
A 60-foot wooden pyramid piled with worldly treasures.
DOMINICANS stack manuscripts beside silk gowns while FANCIULLI
gather offerings from the growing CROWD.
Michelangelo and Francesco watch from the Loggia dei Lanzi.
FRANCESCO
Your drawings. Are they safe?
MICHELANGELO
What's safe these days? Truth itself
seems a vanity.
ACROSS THE PIAZZA
Bugiardini and Rustici watch as SANDRO BOTTICELLi (52)
approaches the fire, his shoulders bent under the weight of
his canvas but his steps determined.
GIULIANO BUGIARDINI
(aghast)
Maestro Botticelli.
GIOVANFRNCESCO RUSTICI
The man who painted Lorenzo's Florence
now burns it.
PALAZZO VECCHIO STEPS
SIX ARMED MEN in Strozzi livery maintain guard. Strozzi and
Soderini watch PEOPLE stream past with offerings.
SODERINI
Rome's patience wears thin. Alexander
has warned our Dominican preacher
twice now, first through private
counsel, and now Medici's Roman
allies.
STROZZI
And our Dominican prophet sends back
fire and brimstone.
(watching Botticelli)
See how thoroughly he's broken them?
Even the masters feed his flames.
A SERVANT arrives with urgent WHISPERS. Strozzi and Soderini
withdraw into the palace, the Strozzi Guards closing ranks.
BACK TO MICHELANGELO'S POV
TWO YOUNG FRIARS struggle with a northern-style oil painting.
FRANCESCO
Da Vinci's new technique. From
Sforza's court to Savonarola's flames.
MICHELANGELO
While Milan embraces the future,
Florence burns her past.
Poliziano appears suddenly, his scholar's grace turned furtive.
POLIZIANO
Michelangelo. Francesco. You should
not linger.
MICHELANGELO
Poliziano-
POLIZIANO
Look at them. The philosophers turn
monk, the poets burn their verses,
and those who resist- even Pico
kneels, lost to prophecy and visions.
His gesturing hand catches Michelangelo's eye; beneath the
sleeve, a pattern of dark droplets mark his wrist.
FRANCESCO
You speak dangerous words, professor.
POLIZIANO
All words are dangerous now. All
beauty suspect-
He breaks off as Savonarola appears on the Palazzo steps.
Poliziano grips Michelangelo's arm.
POLIZIANO (CONT'D)
Guard your eyes, young artist. Some
things, once seen, cannot be unknown.
Poliziano melts into the Crowd as the first flames lick the
pyramid's base. Michelangelo watches Botticelli's painting
catch fire, the canvas curling like it's alive.
FRANCESCO
(watching Poliziano
go)
He fears more than just Savonarola.
MICHELANGELO
He fears what Florence has become.
A city that burns its own soul.
As the FLAMES rise higher, Dominican robes move like shadows.
IN THE CROWD
Mirandola in Dominican robes clutches a rosary and prays.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Political Intrigue"]
Ratings
Scene
52 -
Echoes of Unfinished Work
EXT. PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA - MIDDAY
The pyramid burns black against the sky. CHILDREN dart forward
to throw carnival masks into the flames. MOTHERS add mirrors
and cosmetics. The smoke carries across the square.
EXT. PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA - NIGHT
Michelangelo adds final strokes to a drawing of faces
transformed by flames, their shadows like Dominican robes.
INT. SANTO SPIRITO - COLD ROOM - DAWN
Candles circle a shrouded form. Prior Bichielli stands in
contemplation. Michelangelo enters. His footsteps falter as
he sees the Prior's expression.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
They brought him before matins.
The Prior draws back the shroud to reveal Poliziano, a garland
of raised welts across his chest, his fingernails scored with
white striae. Dark droplets of pigmentation mark his palms.
MICHELANGELO
At the bonfire-
PRIOR BICHIELLI
The physician has noted what he must.
And what he must not.
Michelangelo inspects Poliziano's hands, his own trembling.
MICHELANGELO
The hands tell the story. His last
words?
PRIOR BICHIELLI
His servant spoke of fever dreams.
He called for his manuscripts. Spoke
of unfinished work. Of Lorenzo. Of
you. He said Florence needs
witnesses.
Michelangelo pulls out his materials, hand steadying as he
begins to sketch.
MICHELANGELO
"All words are dangerous now. All
beauty suspect." His last warning
to me.
O.S. BELLS of Santo Spirito TOLL.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
53 -
Chisel and Truth
INT. SANTO SPIRITO - SIDE CHAPEL - AFTERNOON
Wood shavings fall from Michelangelo's chisel. Christ's face
emerges. A shadow falls across his work. Michelangelo looks
up. Mirandola's gaze is fixed on the emerging crucifix.
MIRANDOLA
You capture suffering well.
MICHELANGELO
These days, there's much to study.
MIRANDOLA
Angelo sought truth in ancient texts.
I seek it in prophecy and prayer.
Both paths lead to the same end.
MICHELANGELO
Death?
MIRANDOLA
Transformation.
(touching the crucifix)
Your art serves truth. But truth in
Florence has grown deadly.
MICHELANGELO
Like that which killed Poliziano?
Mirandola's fingers find the nascent wound in Christ's side.
MIRANDOLA
There are those who would purify
Florence through revelation. And
those who prefer darker methods.
Leave Florence. Your gift deserves
more than martyrdom.
MICHELANGELO
You once read Plato with fire in
your eyes. Now you speak as if
visions are enough.
Mirandola studies the face emerging from wood.
MIRANDOLA
I have chosen my path. Fra Girolamo's
visions speak to something I've long
sought. Choose your own path while
you can.
He turns to go, then pauses.
MIRANDOLA (CONT'D)
Angelo would have understood this
Christ of yours. Suffering and
vision, perfectly joined.
As Mirandola's FOOTSTEPS fade, Bichielli appears.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
Still at work, my son?
MICHELANGELO
Father, when Savonarola speaks of
divine fury does he mean men like
Mirandola? A philosopher turned
prophet?
PRIOR BICHIELLI
Fra Girolamo speaks of many things.
But remember, Pico della Mirandola
once wrote of man's dignity to stand
between heaven and earth. Now he
seeks visions in a Dominican cell.
MICHELANGELO
Is that corruption? To seek truth
in prophecy?
PRIOR BICHIELLI
Truth wears many masks these days...
especially in San Marco.
Michelangelo's chisel finds the crown of thorns, each stroke
measured and sure.
MICHELANGELO
Poliziano taught me to read Dante.
He understood visions. Yet when
they found him, his desk was in chaos.
His chronicles tracked how quickly
old friends found new prophets.
The Prior's hand settles on Michelangelo's shoulder.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
Your hands shape divine suffering
in wood. The scholar's pen is less
forgiving. It remembers who
championed Piero's cause in public
while sending messages to the French
king by night.
Michelangelo studies his work. In the fading light, the wooden
Christ seems to breathe.
MICHELANGELO
What of those who keep silence when
they should speak?
O.S. vespers bells TOLL.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
The night brings counsel, they say.
But in Florence lately, it brings
other things as well. Come, you can
return to your work tomorrow.
MICHELANGELO
Tomorrow. Yes. If god and his
prophets will it.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
54 -
The Final Reflection
INT. SAN MARCO MONASTERY - NOVICE'S CELL - DAWN
Mirandola - now Fra Giovanni Pico - lies on a bed covered
with scattered papers of his writings.
Nearby are his physicians: PIERLEONI (50s) handles a glass
urinal up to the light. DELLA TORRE (40s) consults a leather-
bound volume of Galen. GARFAGNINI (30s) unpacks small silver
probes, pouches of dried herbs, and vials of dark liquid.
PIERLEONI
(studying the liquid's
clouded depths)
The fever follows the ancient pattern,
morning sweats give way to lucidity,
then darkness rises as the sun climbs.
DELLA TORRE
Like those cases after Lorenzo's
passing. The vital spirits burn too
fierce, too fast.
GARFAGNINI
Even the antimony brings no balance.
Whatever wars within him defies
Hippocrates himself.
Morning bells TOLL. Fra Domenico appears in the doorway.
FRA DOMENICO
Michelangelo Buonarroti begs entrance.
He brings a message from Prior
Bichielli concerning Fra Giovanni's
Genesis commentary.
PIERLEONI
His humors surge toward crisis-
MIRANDOLA
(with sudden clarity)
Let him come. There is still time.
Michelangelo enters. The physicians draw back.
MIRANDOLA (CONT'D)
You should have seen me defend my
nine hundred theses-
(COUGHING)
The whole Curia assembled as I spoke
of man's dignity.
MICHELANGELO
The Prior asks about your commentary.
The passages on divine forms-
MIRANDOLA
Forms, yes. Like those in Lorenzo's
garden. Remember? When you studied
the ancient marbles while I traced
god's face in Hebrew letters.
He reaches for a cup of wine. As Michelangelo helps him drink,
he notices dark stains at Mirandola's fingertips.
MIRANDOLA (CONT'D)
Tell Bichielli-
(gripping
Michelangelo's wrist)
What we sought in texts, you seek in
stone. The divine spark.
(glancing at the
watching Brother)
Hidden. Always hidden now.
His BREATHING labors. A hush falls as SAVONAROLA appears.
The Physicians retreat.
SAVONAROLA
So Florence's greatest philosopher
returns to simple truth.
MIRANDOLA
No, Fra Girolamo. God speaks through
beauty-
(COUGHING)
Through Hebrew letters, through
ancient marbles.
SAVONAROLA
And where did such learning lead
you? To fever dreams? Or here,
where truth needs no ornament?
Mirandola's eyes meet Michelangelo's.
MIRANDOLA
Beauty survives when philosophers
fall silent.
SAVONAROLA
(reaching for his
oils)
Are you ready to confess?
MIRANDOLA
That wisdom speaks in many tongues.
(his voice fading)
The ladder between heaven and earth.
I see it now.
His hand falls. Savonarola makes the sign of the cross.
SAVONAROLA
He dies reconciled to Holy Church.
MICHELANGELO
And his commentaries, father?
SAVONAROLA
(indicating the
scattered papers)
Some works serve faith. Others serve
only as warning. Florence changes.
Art must change with it. Or artists
must-
The threat hangs unspoken.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
55 -
Shadows of Knowledge
INT. SANTO SPIRITO - SIDE CHAPEL - DUSK
Michelangelo's chisel moves across the wood of the crucifix.
Bichielli appears, carrying a small coffer of worn leather.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
You saw him pass?
MICHELANGELO
Savonarola himself came for the
confession.
Bichielli sets the coffer down, opens it to reveal letters,
fragments of manuscripts, a notebook where Poliziano's elegant
script dances across the pages.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
Like Poliziano, his mind stayed sharp
until the end?
MICHELANGELO
(chisel pausing)
Sharp enough to speak in riddles.
About ladders between heaven and
earth. About beauty surviving when
philosophers fall silent.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
(examining a manuscript)
And his hands? Did you notice them?
MICHELANGELO
The same signs we saw on Poliziano.
Like a scribe's, but-
PRIOR BICHIELLI
No ink leaves such marks. No fever
brings such precise decay.
(holding a page to
the light)
These came from Poliziano's chambers.
See how the edges are darkened? The
same compound that stained their
hands.
Through the windows, the sky burns orange, another bonfire.
PRIOR BICHIELLI (CONT'D)
Two scholars dead, each about to
speak or write of certain matters.
Of nights in Lorenzo's villa when
knowledge passed behind closed doors.
MICHELANGELO
Savonarola? Did Lorenzo share these
ways with him?
PRIOR BICHIELLI
The Dominicans have guarded their
secrets since Aquinas. Some through
silence.
(touching the crucifix)
Some through flame. And some through
beauty that speaks only to those
with eyes to see.
MICHELANGELO
(returns to chiseling)
Then let this Christ speak truly,
Father. For those who have eyes to
see.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
Careful, my son. Florence's eyes
grow sharper by the day.
(MORE)
PRIOR BICHIELLI (CONT'D)
(gathering the papers)
Savonarola's followers watch the
churches now.
In the distance, the bonfire's glow intensifies.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
56 -
The Flames of Truth
INT. MICHELANGELO'S WORKSHOP - NIGHT
Michelangelo spreads out anatomical studies revealing patterns
of poison at work. O.S. POUNDING breaks his concentration.
He opens the door.
MICHELANGELO
Francesco?
Francesco looks up and down the street before he enters. His
tunic is devoid of ornamentation. A rope serves as a belt.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Francesco. Please tell me, you've
not joined Savonarola's ranks of
Piagnoni.
FRANCESCO
I considered it. But I realized my
error. Listen, Mica, there are
whispers from the Palazzo Vecchio.
Questions are being asked about those
who've died. Poliziano and Mirandola
included.
Michelangelo's gaze drifts to his drawings.
MICHELANGELO
You should see something.
Francesco peers at drawings as Michelangelo sorts them into
distinct groups.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Look. The wool merchant Capponi.
His hands show the clouded signs of
Cantarella. And here, the Silk Guild
master Ridolfi, struck down by
monkshood's swift work.
FRANCESCO
And these others?
MICHELANGELO
Tell a darker story. The elder
Berlinghieri.
(MORE)
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Notice the distinctive bands across
the nails, like steps leading to
heaven. His son now leads the guild's
vote in the Signoria, always in the
friar's favor.
FRANCESCO
(picking up a drawing)
The discoloration here is the same.
MICHELANGELO
(laying drawings side
by side)
Dark patterns that follow the veins,
like tributaries of the Arno, on our
dear Poliziano.
(touches another
drawing)
Here, Bartolomeo Fonzio. He was
transcribing Poliziano's last writings
when his hands began to shake. Now
his students preach Savonarola's
visions in the same lecture halls.
FRANCESCO
The banking houses too-
MICHELANGELO
The Capponi bank's senior partner.
See these raindrop patterns on his
palms? Within a month, his son had
redirected the bank's loans to
Savonarola's supporters. The same
marks as Mirandola, down to the
scaling of the skin.
He pulls out a final drawing, the details even more precise.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
The worst was young Lorenzo
Tornabuoni. Married to Giovanni's
daughter, heir to both banking and
wool interests. His hands showed
the signs just after he argued against
seizing Medici assets. They say he
died repentant, endorsing the seizure
with his last breath.
FRANCESCO
All of them?
MICHELANGELO
Arsenic.
(MORE)
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Slow enough to seem like God's
judgment. Quick enough to silence
dangerous voices before they could
rally support. Always those who
stood against the friar's vision for
Florence.
(gathering the drawings)
The other deaths- Cantarella,
monkshood, the usual tools of
Florentine politics. But arsenic is
Savonarola's signature. His mark on
Florence's soul.
FRANCESCO
Like an artist's hand, recognized by
its strokes.
MICHELANGELO
But this is an art that corrupts
both the hand that wields it and the
body that receives it. Look-
(indicates specific
details)
The way the skin darkens in precise
gradations. The particular scaling,
like a serpent's shed skin. Nature
herself revealing the truth, for
those trained to see it.
FRANCESCO
The cardinal arrives tomorrow at
midnight.
O.S. SOUNDS OF AN ANGRY MOB drawing closer. Francesco peers
out the door. Torchlight reveals dark FIGURES, cowls drawn
up, bearing torches and clubs.
FRANCESCO (CONT'D)
Savonarola's men-
MICHELANGELO
(already moving)
Help me gather these.
They roll the drawings swiftly. The mob's CHANTS grow clear.
MOB (O.S.)
Death to the enemies of Christ.
Death to friends of the Medici.
Michelangelo looks around at half-finished sculptures and
drawings. His gaze falls on a small oil lamp.
MOB (O.S.) (CONT'D)
Savonarola guides us. Burn the
corrupt.
A moment's hesitation, then hard certainty fills his eyes.
MICHELANGELO
No one else will destroy my work.
He takes the lamp. As Francesco gathers the last crucial
drawings, Michelangelo grabs sketches of Savonarola preaching.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
Art should live complete or die by
its creator's hand.
He hurls the lamp. Flame blooms across paper and papyrus.
They flee the burning workshop through a
MAZE OF STREETS
Torchlight and shadow. Every ECHO potential pursuit, every
corner potential betrayal.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
57 -
Confrontation at Santo Spirito
INT. SANTO SPIRITO - NIGHT
The great doors SLAM closed behind them. Prior Bichielli awaits
as if their coming was expected.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
I see you bring truth's burden with
you.
FRANCESCO
(breathless)
The friar's men follow-
A FIST SLAMS against the doors. Then another. A CHORUS OF
VOICES outside, muffled but furious.
POUNDING echoes throughout the church. The Prior moves with
calm deliberation, opens the doors. Torchlight silhouettes
Savonarola himself.
SAVONAROLA
You harbor enemies of Florence's
purification.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
I harbor truth within God's house.
(steps forward)
Would you violate the sanctity of
consecrated ground, Friar Girolamo?
SAVONAROLA
God's work knows no boundaries.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
Then surely you recall canon law
regarding sanctuary. Or shall I
send to Rome for clarification?
Perhaps to Cardinal Giovanni himself?
Savonarola's eyes narrow, measuring this new player in
Florence's game of power. His fingers tighten into fists.
SAVONAROLA
The lord's judgment comes in many
forms, Prior. Fire cleanses all.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
And truth endures all. Even fire.
Their eyes lock. Savonarola’s eyes shift, drawn toward
Michelangelo in the half-light.
SAVONAROLA
You hold things no man should wield,
sculptor. Some truths are too
dangerous for mortal hands.
MICHELANGELO
Some hands were made to shape truth.
SAVONAROLA
Truth? You carve stone while Florence
burns. You chisel pagan idols while
men’s souls cry for salvation.
MICHELANGELO
I do not carve idols, Friar.
(stepping forward)
I carve the voice of God. The logos
moves through my hands. Each line
mirrors the order that governs stars
and souls.
SAVONAROLA
A mere sculptor. A man of dust and
marble, pretending you understand
eternity.
MICHELANGELO
No, Friar. You are dust. The fire
you call holy will rise, rage, and
die. The wind will scatter your
ashes. While I remain.
SAVONAROLA
(hoarse, refusing to
believe what he
recognizes as true)
You-
MICHELANGELO
The voice of God speaks through my
hands for eternity.
Savonarola stills. He sees it - the truth standing before
him, etched in stone before it's even carved.
MICHELANGELO (CONT'D)
And you? Forgotten.
A long silence. Savonarola's lips part, but utter no words.
A man who has spent his life commanding crowds, faces his own
irrelevance. A flicker of rage. He turns, defeated.
SAVONAROLA
(to his Followers)
We wait.
The Followers glance at one another, uncertain. And then, one
by one, they melt into the night.
The doors close. In the sudden quiet, Michelangelo EXHALES.
The Prior's shoulders sag, but his voice remains firm.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
Come. The old chapel holds secrets
darker than these. We'll wait there
for tomorrow's judgment.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Political Intrigue"]
Ratings
Scene
58 -
The Weight of Evidence
INT. PALAZZO VECCHIO - SALA DEI GIGLI - NIGHT
Torchlight plays across Ghirlandaio's frescoes.
CARDINAL GIOVANNI DE MEDICI (20), his youth startling against
his crimson robes, studies Michelangelo's anatomical drawings.
He traces the evidence with the same attention his father
Lorenzo once gave to ancient texts.
Bichielli stands beside Francesco, his presence lending gravity
to the evidence before them.
CARDINAL GIOVANNI
These marks on the hands. You're
certain?
MICHELANGELO
As certain as I am of the weight of
marble beneath my chisel.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
I have witnessed each examination.
The patterns are consistent with the
testimony we've gathered.
CARDINAL GIOVANNI
And you've documented all deaths
showing these signs?
FRANCESCO
(indicating specific
drawings)
Each victim who opposed the friar's
vision. The banking houses, the
guilds-
CARDINAL GIOVANNI
And how do I know you haven’t forged
these to settle scores, Buonarroti?
Many a man has masked revenge in
righteousness.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
The physical evidence aligns with
what we know of their final days.
Their symptoms match precisely.
CARDINAL GIOVANNI
The Pope's commissioners require
absolute certainty.
(to Michelangelo)
Your eye for detail serves Florence
well. Rome has need of such
precision.
MICHELANGELO
Rome?
CARDINAL GIOVANNI
A cardinal seeks a sculptor worthy
of selecting Carrera marble. One
who understands how truth emerges
from stone.
The Cardinal gathers the drawings with decisive movements.
CARDINAL GIOVANNI (CONT'D)
This evidence travels to Rome tonight.
The church moves slowly, but in
matters of heresy-
(glancing at Bichielli)
Truth demands swift justice.
PRIOR BICHIELLI
The friar's sermons grow more
dangerous. He speaks of visions, of
Florence in flames, and claims "nobody
shall stop him from cleansing
Florence."
CARDINAL GIOVANNI
Then we must ensure these drawings
speak louder than his visions.
(to Michelangelo)
While you, perhaps, might consider
Rome's offer. Opportunity awaits.
Genres:
["Historical Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
59 -
The Chains of Truth
EXT. PIAZZA SAN MARCO - MORNING
Armed SIGNORIA GUARDS surround San Marco. A CROWD gathers as
COMMISSIONER FRANCESCO ROMOLINO (30s) confers with CAPTAIN OF
THE GUARD before the monastery's sealed doors.
ROMOLINO
Break them.
GUARDS RAM the doors. They SPLINTER.
INT. SAN MARCO - CONTINUOUS
Guards enter. MONKS scatter. Savonarola stands at the altar
with Fra Dominico.
SAVONAROLA
You violate God's sanctuary.
ROMOLINO
(showing a document)
We come with Rome's authority. The
charge is heresy.
FRA DOMINICO
The friar speaks with heaven's voice-
CAPTAIN
Take them.
Some MONKS attempt to block the Guards. Others flee.
SAVONAROLA
Let them come. Truth fears no chains.
EXT. PIAZZA SAN MARCO - MORNING
Michelangelo stands among the Crowd, Francesco next to him.
FRANCESCO
The commissioners brought their own
questioners from Rome.
MICHELANGELO
Swift justice indeed.
ROMOLINO
Your visions end today, friar.
(to Guards)
Separate them. The questioning begins
immediately.
Savonarola catches Michelangelo's eye as they drag him away.
SAVONAROLA
So you still choose stone over
salvation, Buonarotti?
MICHELANGELO
I choose truth. In stone, in flesh.
In death's own markings.
FRANCESCO
(almost a whisper)
They say the questioning will be
thorough.
MICHELANGELO
Perhaps it's time I see Rome's gardens
for myself.
EXT. BARGELLO PALACE - EVENING
Dark clouds blanket the austere castle. The tower BELL RINGS
three times. A crow circles, SCREECHES, lands atop the tower
cross.
INT. BARGELLO PALACE - EVENING
A vaulted chamber of stone and shadows. Savonarola kneels on
the dirt floor, head bowed, arms bound tightly behind him. A
length of rope snakes up to a rusted pulley.
INTERREGATOR (O.S.)
Do you confess?
Savonarola looks up. Sweat and blood mix along his temple.
SAVONAROLA
I confess to being God's messenger.
INTERREGATOR (O.S.)
(signaling)
Again.
With a GRIND of rope, Savonarola is yanked upward. His feet
leave the ground. CRACK. A shoulder gives way. He SCREAMS.
EXT. BARGELLO PALACE - TOWER
The crow FLAPS into the air. The bell RINGS. Below, the
Piagnoni gather in silent, candlelit vigil.
INT. SANTO SPIRITO - SIDE CHAPEL - MORNING
Michelangelo paces.
MICHELANGELO
It's been weeks now. How much can
one man endure?
FRANCESCO
He once called me a coward for
refusing San Marco. I chose caution.
MICHELANGELO
You chose survival. He chooses
defiance. Surely, he must see there's
only one way forward. Why not end
it?
FRANCESCO
Speaking of endings, today was my
last day of apprenticeship.
MICHELANGELO
You will go far my friend.
FRANCESCO
And you?
MICHELANGELO
Rome calls.
FRANCESCO
You’ll leave Florence. And I’ll
remain. To see what becomes of truth
when no one’s left to carve it.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Political Intrigue"]
Ratings
Scene
60 -
The Fall of Savonarola
INT. PALAZZO VECCHIO - SALA DELL'UDIENZA - DAY
GUARDS bring in Savonarola, his shoulders twisted and broken.
Fra Dominico and FRA SALVESTRO (a staunch Savonarola supporter)
follow, similarly broken.
Romolino sits with COMMISSIONER GIOACCHINO TORRIANI (50s) at
the judges' bench. Signoria OFFICIALS flank them.
ROMOLINO
You have confessed that your visions
were false.
SAVONAROLA
(voice raw)
What was spoken under torment-
TORRIANI
Was truth extracted from pride.
Fra Dominico CROAKS, trying to speak. A Guard silences him.
ROMOLINO
(reading)
You admit to fabricating prophecies.
To manipulating the faith of Florence
for political gain.
SAVONAROLA
My words served Florence's soul-
ROMOLINO
Your words served sedition.
(to the Officials)
The Church has found these men guilty
of heresy. We deliver them to secular
justice.
TORRIANI
(smiling genially)
We shall have a fine bonfire. I've
brought the sentence of condemnation
with me from Rome.
Among the Officials stand Francesco and Michelangelo.
FRANCESCO
(sotto)
He had the sentence before the trial
began.
MICHELANGELO
Justice wears Rome's face now.
INTERCUT - PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA / MICHELANGELO, ROME
- A wooden platform rises above the crowd. Three nooses hang
against the gray dawn sky.
- Michelangelo circles a massive block of Carrara marble, his
hands exploring the surface.
- Guards lead Savonarola, Dominico, and Silvestro up the steps
in undergarments, stripped of Dominican robes.
- Michelangelo raises his hammer and chisel. His first strike
RINGS out.
- The executioner places the noose around Savonarola's neck.
Romolino reads from a scroll.
ROMOLINO
The sentence of death, by hanging
and fire.
- CHIPS of marble fly. Through Michelangelo's eyes, we see
into the stone, the curve of Mary's shoulder emerging from
mist.
- The trap DROPS. The Crowd surges forward. Bodies swing.
Feet dangle and kick mid-air
- Michelangelo's hands move swiftly, certain. In his mind's
eye, he sees Mary's face in anguish, Jesus across her lap.
- Flames climb the pyre beneath the hanging bodies. Smoke
rises against the sky.
END MONTAGE
EXT. PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA - NIGHT
The fires die. Officials methodically gather the ashes.
EXT. ARNO RIVER - DAWN
A PROCESSION moves along the riverbank. OFFICIALS empty their
containers into the Arno. Savonarola's remains drift with the
tide into the ash bin of history, to be forgotten.
INT. MICHELANGELO'S WORKSHOP - MORNING
Michelangelo steps back. Through his eyes, we see the Pietà
complete within the marble, glowing like a vision.
Curtains flutter in the breeze, a piece of paper drifts off a
table. The word "Destiny" floats mid air.