20th Century Fox original film Tristan + Isolde was released January 13th, 2006.
#Tristan+Isolde made $28.04M at the international box office.
rottentomatoes: 31%
metacritic: 49
imdb: 6.8
Tristan of Aragon
Tristan is a knight in Cornwall, England.
“When can I have a stag? Come on! I got it. I got it. Why would they join against the Irish? You? I could. Can I? Thanks. Mother. I made this for you. Let me fight! Father.” — Tristan of Aragon
“Look at that. Where does this lead? Must be a burial crypt or something. Who else knows about this? Good.” — Tristan of Aragon
“At once. Throw everything we have at them. So we do nothing? I make it my habit to follow no one. Marke delivered me from that palace when I was a boy. You ran. So you can understand when I think of kings, I think of him. And when I think of cowards– I need our two fastest runners. Simon. Simon. I can’t feel my legs or my hands. A second boat.” — Tristan of Aragon
“Oh. You said no one else knew. Why are you doing this? What’s your name? How can I thank you if I don’t have your name? I’m Tristan of Aragon. She likes me. She’s right though. You do risk. They also died when I was a child. A different type of Irish kindness. Tomorrow. Ridiculous. Than what? Why would you need it?” — Tristan of Aragon
“You’re promised? What’s he like? I thought… earlier when you spoke of wanting something you can’t have– how do you feel? Come with me. Come with me. Why not? Please.” — Tristan of Aragon
“I am delivered. It’s the only way to keep the alliance alive. Well, they’re going to the tournament anyway. By announcing you’ll share the dowry with every baron who remains loyal, while in turn offering support to whomever prevails, the others will be compelled to follow you when you win it. Me. Well, this trip will be my tonic. I’ll be ready. You know I will. Let me go and win you a wife. She can make peace without spilling one drop of blood. And maybe heal the wound from which you still ache. How do I look?” — Tristan of Aragon
“Tristan of Aragon.”
Isolde
“Will I? Why did she die, Bragnae? Why? No. It was her heart.”
“What do you think is really out there? I want to see it. Do you know what the future looks like, Bragnae?”
“Am I just a chattel to be traded at your pleasure? Do I have no say in my own life? You are my father.”
“I accept it. How so? Rendered safe by thistle and bark. Yohimbine.”
“Away. I am no one’s charge. And live a loveless life like my mom? Where? It’s a man. Alive! Bragnae, help me! Help me! Quickly! Start a fire. Quickly. His heart falters. He needs heat. Now. Get your clothes off, quickly. Hurry. Quickly! Smell that? Smell the poison? When he warms, we’ll need thistle and bark.”
“Hello. You’ve been sleeping a long time. You’re in Ireland. Did you know that? Shh. It’s all right. You’re safe here. No one knows. Don’t be scared. Just sleep. Sleep.”
“It’s all right. You don’t need that. I forgot to tell him about you. Sorry. She’s my maid, sworn to silence. Um, lie down, please. Please? It’s good you’re remembering things. This might sting. Do you remember anything else? The boat I found you in? How you got this? Too many questions. There. Keep that dry. Here are clothes, bread. You have water and fire. The ocean’s outside if you wish a bath. You won’t know where you’re going so please don’t try to leave. Just trust me. I’ll be back. And we’ve got him prisoner.”
“He’ll need more food tomorrow. Oh, you noticed. Yes, I have a bit. Bragnae and I were spying the convent at Brittas. Some women need it. Any word of my betrothed? Oh, I think it’s better we don’t bother with names. You just did. If you insist, my name is Bragnae. I’m a lady-in-waiting at the court. My parents are dead. My mother, she’s the source of the kindness you find so puzzling. My father would have left you where you fell. Well, Tristan of Aragon, I’d guess about you too, but I think I’ve already seen everything.”
“Here. And what of your parents? Of what? I’m sorry. Tomorrow then? ‘There she who bore you brought you forth. Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is as strong as death.’ I happen to believe what that says. Don’t you think there’s more to life? Something more than duty and death. Why be capable of feelings if we’re not to have them? Why long for things if they’re not meant to be ours? Oh, don’t listen to me. You’re so sure of things. Your certainty, it’s-it’s like armor. I wish I had that. The joy of being a lady. Wanting something I can’t have– a life of my own. I’ll follow you later.”
“Yes. Dark, tall, nearly twice your size. An absolute gentleman. I didn’t know what I was talking about. Outside, just past that bluff, there is a boat. That’s how you should go when you leave. You should go soon. I don’t know.”
“Tristan! They found your boat. At this very moment, the king himself is scouring the coasts. He’ll find you. He finds everyone. The tide is coming. You must go. I can’t. Tristan, we both know this can’t be. We’ve known it from the start. That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. It is. It just cannot be. I want to know that you’re alive somewhere and thinking of me from time to time. I want to know that there’s more to this life, and I can’t know that if they kill you. Please. Go.”
“‘My face in thine eyes, thine in mine appears. And true plains hearts do in the faces rest. Whatever dies was not mixed equally. If our two loves be one, or thou and I love so alike, that none can slacken none can die.’ No, not quite. If I’m a present, I should be fully wrapped.”
King Donnchadh
“What news of the treaty? Good, Morholt. Good.”
“For Cornwall’s next tribute, I want slaves– young ones– their future. If Marke resists, have Morholt crush him. Morholt. Yes, you have. You have been most loyal. What would please you?”
“You have a duty to your king. Then obey me, Daughter.”
“You’ve been away. Where? Seeking sanctuary? You’ll find no refuge in the new religion. Your place is here, with Morholt. Overdue. But comforted, no doubt, that you yearn for him.”
“A Cornish warrior may be ashore. Beware. We seek him as I speak. Hopefully, it’s just his rotted corpse we’ll find, for he has slain your betrothed. Morholt is dead, fallen in battle. Isolde? Bragnae, catch and comfort her. As am I by her grief. Maximum force? The one butchered by Marke’s tribes? Would that be the force you speak of? We’ll not confront them again until our numbers are refreshed. And until then, we’ll have cunning divide them. A prize, perhaps.”
“Ah, see how the bees come to the honey. So he lives.”
Bragnae
“She’s with the gods now, Isolde. You’ll see her again someday. Your mother loved you so much, Isolde. It was an ill vapor that took her, a fever.”
“It’s dark in an hour. Britannia. The old Roman lands. A world full of evil and grief. I see the life you were meant for. Your father will speak with you.”
“Where are we going? Are you afflicted, child? Speak to me. Your father will find us and have my head. You are my charge. Please. You are. And you will be Morholt’s lady. What’s that? Isolde, wait. Don’t. Isolde, don’t. Isolde! Dead? Isolde. Oh. What are you doing? I’ve not been naked with a man for 15 years.”
“No! I’ll wait outside with the other beasts. This is a dangerous game you’re playing. He’s English, Isolde. Under no circumstances tell him your name, you hear me? I thought you wished to escape this place. Did you hear me? You’ll do no such thing. He’s not of your concern. Sir, I hope you appreciate the risks… we are taking and will honor us by leaving as soon as you are able.”
“Time you must leave now. You need a rest… in case your betrothed would want to see you. There. Almost done.”
Lord Marke
“Friends, my wife is with child. My heart tells me it’s a boy. I want him to grow old in a land where all of us– all the tribes– Pict, Celt, Angle, Jute, Saxon– are at peace. The island has not known unity since the Romans left. That is why I sign this treat. Perhaps, Wictred, because your last attempt to form an alliance… without the knowledge of half the barons in this room has failed. No!”
“Your husband? Oh. Oh, Sister, I’m so sorry. A whole generation of men. Tristan, son of Aragon. We’re his family now. Rebuild. Don’t hold back. Come on! Still won’t fight?”
“When would you strike? They’re hoping you’ll do that. On horse they outnumber us 2-to-1. You’ll lead the men straight to their deaths. Donnchadh would like that even more, me to lose face in front of the other tribes. No. We must act. It must be decisive. But we cannot act alone.”
“So have the good men of York come to fight with us? Hmm? Or the Saxons of Wessex? Then why are you here? They’re one day from their boats on the Roman road. Now, who will ride out with Tristan to fight them?”
“And Tristan? Did I love him like a son, or did I misuse him for my own purposes? Donnchadh. He’s offered his daughter and the lands of Lionath… as dowry to whichever English tribe wins. It’s a clever way of setting us against each other. For yourself, you mean. So be it. Melot, Melot, Melot, Melot, Melot, Melot. You’re my blood, and you’re a noble presence, but–“
“How? How? Tristan, there must be story. A toast to Tristan, back from the dead. What? I fail to see how fighting with our partners keeps us allies. If we win. If we lose, we could end up following Wictred. I’d need an infallible champion. You’re not yet healed. What’s the source of this fervor?”
Wictred of Glastonbury
“And why should we follow you?”
“My men don’t want to follow a Pict into battle, let alone one leading a pack of Angles and Celts. I thought Tristan should let me command his men. Except Marke?”
“As baron of Wessex, it’s my duty to fight in this tournament for my people. Tristan’s dead. My people have suffered enough. They see the wealth of Lionath on offer. That seems more real than any alliance. My mind is set.”
“Wictred of Glastonbury. I fight with no champion in my stead. Note that.”
Tristan’s Father
“A year younger than I was for my first. A stag? Tell me again what you said last week. Let that be a reminder to you. Because someone has to stand up to them. Me, Marke, all the tribes. We can’t resist alone. My little warrior. We have to be careful. Come home without something for your lady, you’ll have hell to pay. Good. With Marke, we’ll all be here. Let us hope so.”
“Friends. Look at us, the tribes of Britain. Divided. Weak. Just as the Irish like us. But if we were one land– united– we would outnumber them 2-to-1. To sign this treaty of unification. The strongest among us, Lord Marke. Look, if you’re happy sending all your gold to Ireland, living as slaves, by all means, do nothing. Tell all your men, guard the women. Go! No!”
Melot
“Tristan won’t fight me. Look, he’s scared! Why’d you take off your helmet? You going to cry? My father died too, but you don’t see me crying. That’s right, run. Find another trap door to hide under, coward.”
“You are gonna love it. You’ll love it. All right, Simon. Well, you tell us how you found it. You’ll see. We always knew the castle was built on Roman foundations, but we didn’t think anything was left. Here we are. Bottom of the keep. Nobody.”
“Go find Tristan. He shall have a king’s service. Farewell, Tristan of Aragon. Death to the Irish.”
“When the Irish came to Cornwall, and my father surrendered, you spared a dozen out of a hundred. I am even less kind. The leader and three will take this message home. As for the rest– victory. Simon too.”
“What’s this about a tournament? Well, the other barons will see through that. And what of the support you promised Tristan? You’re weary. Let me rally our friends. I’ll lead them against Donn–“
“I saw you dead. Where’s his princess? What’s her name, Isolde? I want to see what she looks like.”
Cornwall, England
“Of course you can, boy. The Angles have arrived, my lord– as well as the Celts, my fellow Jutes and the Saxons. Yeah. It’s a great day. Yeah. We heard the news. Pray for a son. Who would be king? If we were happy doing that, we would never have risked coming here. Alarm! The Irish are here! But you won’t have enough– quickly! Tristan! Back this way. Hurry! Move down the ranks! How did they know? Tristan! Please, don’t hurt him! Tristan. Tristan. No!”
“The Irish have been here. The executions lasted a day. They made sport of us. Who is this? I have a son about your age. Melot. Melot? Melot, this is Tristan. What shall we do, my lord? Three, four. One, two– three, four. Three, four. One, two, three– he’s got the heart of a lion. Just needs some time. Melot. Tristan!”
“Tristan! Tristan. We found something. Come on, this way. Quick, come on. Yeah, I– I found this trapdoor. Who found a trapdoor? Well, I like that case. Think I’ll have that. Off me! Leave her! No. Please don’t. Don’t. Take me. No! No! Widseth! Widseth!”
“What is your plan, Tristan? We’re gonna get you home. I don’t want to die. Tristan. Poison. Tristan.”
“He knew. He knew. And ours as well. He’s back! He’s alive! Tristan! We thought you weren’t alive. He’s back! Lord Marke, it’s Tristan! It can’t be.”
“Please, Tristan, tell us more. Yeah, back from the dead. Tristan, the Irish king offers his daughter in tournament and divides all our tribes. Whether for the power or the wealth, half the barons… are sending champions to fight at Dunluce. Tristan. God knows what happened to him. How do you look?”
Morholt
“My king. I have led your armies to victories far and near. I’ve made you rich and powerful. When I return from Cornwall, I was hoping– a wife.”
“Your father has given you the news? And do you welcome it? You know, we’re more alike than you might guess. I, too, dabble in elixirs. Poison. It’s from the livers of puffer fish. Just a taste… paralyzes all the senses. So if the blade doesn’t kill– and do you know the antidote for this? Makes a hard man even harder. The only cure: wild abandon. Till our wedding day. I’m to Cornwall to deal with rebels.”
“Hey. Around. Around. Hold off. Kill the slaves!”
The Irish
“Morholt returns.”
“These savages have rebuilt the castle in Cornwall, only now it’s made of stone. Release them. Take him there. Get a rope. Anyone foolish enough to interfere in any way… shall suffer the same fate.”
“If there are any more attacks, we shall put our guests… to death and raze their entire land. Take the horses.”
“There they go! After them! Halt! Go around! Morholt! They’re back. They’ve got a head. It’s a trap!”
“It’s lord Bodkin! She is stunned. We should, uh– we should assault the British straightaway. Crush them with maximum force. Of what nature? Truce. You have safe passage. You’ll all go over there.”
“Name? Lebourne of Bracht. I don’t believe you. Name? Name? For the moment. Name? Name? Why Wictred?”
