The Hunchback of Notre Dame

I've never heard a more beautiful Angelus.

Who is the bell ringer of Notre Dame?

Quasimodo, Your Majesty.

The people simply call him the Hunchback.

Quasimodo. Heh. What an odd name.

And now, Master Fisher, let's see what reason...

...my High Justice had for asking me to come to your shop.

What do you call this apparatus?

The German inventor Gutenberg calls it a printing press, Your Majesty.

- What is it for? - To print books, Your Majesty.

- For whom? - For the people.

They will learn to read when they can get books.

I can print a volume like this one in a few weeks...

...and quite inexpensively.

Imagine, Frollo, a few weeks.

When I ordered my prayer book...

...it took them years to copy it out...

...and cost me a fortune.

This is more beautiful than the printed book.

Nevertheless, the printing press is a miracle.

A horrifying miracle.

Horrifying? This small press?

Small things have a way of overmastering the great.

"The Nile rat kills the crocodile."

This small press can destroy a kingdom.

Oh, come, come, my High Justice, don't exaggerate.

What is that?

It is the first page of a new book, Your Majesty.

Let me see it.

On the Freedom of Thought.

- Who wrote it? - Pierre Gringoire.

Gringoire? Who is he?

A French poet, Your Majesty.

A heretic, sire.

To spread him is to communicate disease.

How do you know?

It may be a great blessing to France if people can get books and learn to read.

To me, it's a new form of expression of thought.

Out there is the old form.

All over France, in every city...

...there stand cathedrals like this one...

...triumphal monuments of the past.

They tower over the homes of our people like mighty guardians...

...keeping alive the invincible faith of the Christian.

Every arch, every column, every statue...

...is a carved leaf out of our history.

A book in stone...

...glorifying the spirit of France.

The cathedrals are the handwriting of the past.

The press is of our time...

...and I won't do anything to stop it, Frollo.

We must break the press and hang the printer, for they will destroy our old and holy order.

No, no, no. I'm not such a fool.

I will protect France from these books...

...as I will protect it from witches, sorcerers and Gypsies...

...the foreign race that is overrunning all of Europe.

Get back.

Why do you stop us?

Because no Gypsies can enter Paris any longer without a permit.

- It's the new law. - If the others can enter, why can't we?

They are Frenchmen. You're Gypsies. Foreigners.

Foreigners.

You came yesterday, we come today.

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Let them pass. It's Fools' Day.

Fools' Day or not, we don't want foreigners. Stop her. Catch her.

What's the matter, Helene?

Grandma, the Hunchback of Notre Dame just crossed my path.

Go home quickly and light the candle.

That won't help against Quasimodo. He's possessed.

Yvonne, aren't you going to the festival to see the king?

I can't. Mother says there are too many thieves and beggars in the crowd.

Oh, they'll get you at home just as well. You'll see.

Well, what's he trying to do?

He's heard it rumored that the Earth is round and is attempting to walk to the Indies.

- It's not round, it's flat. - The idiot?

Some famous geographers and mathematicians also believe the Earth is round.

- Isn't round, it's flat. - Do you recollect that letter we had from, uh...?

What's his name? Christopher Co... Oh, Christopher Columbus...

...who wrote claiming he could, by steering a westerly course...

- ...reach the Indies? - It's flat.

I'm greatly tempted to endow the venture.

Our country could not afford the risk of such an enterprise.

Columbus. Hmm. The man's the laughingstock of the court of Spain.

Who knows?

The future may prove Ferdinand's court was the laughingstock.

- It isn't round. - What are you mumbling about, doctor?

- The Earth isn't round. It's flat. - How do you know?

I have observed it on all my travels over Europe. Everywhere, it's flat.

Oh, let's listen to the play.

The old can never last.

The new is claiming its place.

It's foolish to cling to the past.

Believe in the future's face.

It pains me to relate that death is the fate of noble and peasant alike.

You are born in a womb...

And end in a tomb.

Clopin's coming.

Pennies!

Pennies!

Pennies!

- How's business? - Bad.

Bah!

- How's business? - Much better if they weren't watching that play.

- I'll tend to that. - You'd better.

You rest and live and rest again.

Beware you do not live in vain.

And if you eat too much, you'll throw it up again.

You stupid, ignorant drunkards, you.

I offer you truth.

- We don't want your truth. - No, we don't want it.

We will now choose the King of Fools.

Applicants come forth. Men, women.

The ugliest face wins the crown.

Ugly faces!

Ugly faces!

How do you like his face?

The ugly is very appealing to man.

- It's a matter of taste. - No, it's instinct.

One shrinks from the ugly yet wants to look at it.

There's a devilish fascination in it.

We extract pleasure from horror.

Only the mob, sire.

Think so?

Look at our friends.

They don't look exactly uninterested.

- Horrible. - That's the prettiest ugliness I've ever seen.

- Awful. - Beautiful.

- What? - That girl. What a beauty.

I've never seen her before. Have you?

She is pretty.

- Who is she? What's her name? - Esmeralda.

Esmeralda.

The people seem to like her, and so do I.

- Doctor, lend me half a livre. - Half a livre?

- Afraid I won't repay you? - She's a Gypsy, sire.

Who cares about her race?

Heh. She's pretty.

Doesn't she make your pulse beat faster?

What about you, doctor?

I'm a widower four times, sire...

...but I could begin all over again.

What's the matter?

That eye, staring at me.

- Somebody's in there. - It's an animal.

- Fiend. - Come out if you're a good Christian.

- Get under there, see what it is. - Get him out.

Get under there. Get after him. Go ahead.

He's going out the other way.

It's Quasimodo. It's the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Move!

No, no, no.

Don't spoil their fun, Frollo.

Stay here.

- Make him the king! - Yeah!

Well, Quasimodo, we knew you were ugly but didn't know you were so ugly.

We've never been so close to you before. You've always been up in your bell towers.

And now we want to make you King of Fools.

What do you say?

What's the matter? Are you deaf?

The plague to you. I offer you the fools' crown and you bite me.

He's deaf. The bells have made him so.

Deaf. Maybe he's dumb too.

- That makes him the perfect king. - Oh, he can speak.

But he doesn't like to.

- Well, what will we do about it? - Show him the crown.

By unanimous vote, we now proclaim you King of Fools.

King Quasimodo, Quasi-Quasimodo

Quasimodo, ruler of fools, we bow

All you rabble Scum and scavengers of France

Mark you the fool With crown upon his ugly brow

Hail to the idiot king Shout and sing

Quasimodo, Quasimodo

King of the Fools is Quasimodo

Hail to the king

King of the Fools

Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo

Quasimodo, cock-a-doodle-doo

I am the true King of Fools.

I battle for beauty, and the ugly gets crowned.

What greater fool can there be than I?

All you rabble Scum and scavengers of France

Mark you the fool With crown upon his ugly brow

Hail to the idiot king Shout and sing

Quasimodo, Quasimodo

King of the Fools is Quasimodo

Stop!

He can't take away our king.

No bills, only petitions.

But I need money. Actors must be paid. The play was ordered.

- This is no time to ask for money. - It never is.

- So we go hungry. - Here, don't push. Don't push.

- I must see the king. I must. - Must? Ha-ha-ha.

Hey, you Gypsy, let me see your city permit.

- Catch her! - Stop her.

Stop her.

Stop her!

Stop her!

Sanctuary.

- We've got to arrest her. She's a Gypsy. - Church is sanctuary for all.