(Sound of children’s laughter)
(Music: a series of single notes widely spaced)
JOHN KEATS
I had such a dream last night. I was floating above the trees with my lips connected to those of a beautiful figure.
FANNY BRAWNE
Whose lips? Were they my lips?
(Male choir sings in harmony)
FANNY BRAWNE
I’m not sure he really likes me.
MRS BRAWNE
Mr Keats knows he cannot like you. He has no living and no income.
VOICEOVER
He was a dreamer
SAMUEL BRAWNE
Have you got John Keats’s poem book?
TOOTS BRAWNE
My sister has met the author and she wants to read it for herself, to see if he’s an idiot or not!
VOICEOVER
She was a realist
FANNY BRAWNE
All I wear I have sewn and designed myself
BROWN
Men’s room. Out! Poet’s got to do a bit of writing.
FANNY BRAWNE
My stitching has more merit and admirers than your two scribblings put together, and I can make money from it.
VOICEOVER
But every word he wrote inspired the rapture of first love
FANNY BRAWNE
A thing of beauty is a joy forever, its loveliness increases, it will never pass into nothingness
(Music builds)
VOICEOVER
From academy award winner Jane Campion comes a romance that would live forever
JOHN KEATS
I get anxious if I don’t see her
FANNY BRAWNE
When I don’t hear from him, it’s as if I’ve died! As if the air is sucked out from my lungs
FANNY BRAWNE
Mr Keats is very brilliant
MRS BRAWNE
Is it successful?
FANNY BRAWNE
You taught me to love – you never said, ‘only the rich’.
BROWN
I must warn you of the trap that you’re walking into, John. You’ll lose your freedom permanently –for what?
(music)
MRS BRAWNE
You are already the source of so much gossip.
BROWN
Apparently there is nothing I can do to persuade you of the gravity of the situation?
KEATS
We must cut the threads.
FANNY
No. I can’t! I never will.
(music builds)
FANNY
You know I would do anything.
BROWN
It is a game. It is a game to her!
KEATS
There is a holiness to the heart’s affections. You know nothing of that!
(crescendo)
VOICEOVER
Based on the true story of a brilliant poet and the bright star that was his shining light
KEATS
I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days. Three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
