<i><b>CAPTIONED ONLY FROM 50:43 TO END OF VIDEO</b></i>

-[narrator] It's a self-portrait
unlike any painted before.

Usually when artists
looked in the mirror,

they liked
what they saw,

and what they saw were men,
young or old,

whose features were
ennobled by their calling

to bring virtue, beauty,
and grace into the world.

Now, look at Caravaggio.

A decapitated head is Goliath,
bloody, grotesque, a monster.

In <i>The Beheading of John the Baptist,</i>
evil was done by other people.

Here it's Caravaggio who's
the embodiment of wickedness.

In this victory
of virtue over evil,

David is supposed to be
the center of attention,

but have you ever seen
a less jubilant victor?

On his sword is inscribed
<i>humilitas occidit superbiam,</i>

"humility conquers pride,"

a battle that's been fought out
inside Caravaggio's head

between the two sides of
the painter portrayed here.

There's the devout,
courageous David Caravaggio,

and then there's the criminal sinner,
Goliath Caravaggio.

"I know who I've been,"
says a pathetic head,

unable to look us in the eyes.
"I know what I've done."

It's a desolate vision,
offered to us in utter blackness.

No virtue,
no grace,

just the dark truth in the
inside of Caravaggio's head,

flooded with tragic
self-knowledge.

[♪ pensive music ♪]

For me, the power of his art
is the power of truth,

not least about ourselves.

For if we're ever to have
a chance of redemption,

it must begin with an act
of recognition that in all of us,

the Goliath competes
with the David.

In July 1610, Caravaggio
rolled up his paintings

and set sail for Naples,
finally heading home.

[♪ hopeful music ♪ ]

Sailing north, his boat stopped
at the tiny harbor of Palo,

on the coast
just west of Rome.

[door clangs shut]

Here the local captain of the guard
either hadn't heard about his pardon,

or mistook him
for some other fugitive.

Either way,
he's thrown in jail.

By the time he's managed
to pay his way out,

his boat has sailed off
along with his paintings,

his offering to Borghese.

[♪ somber chorus ♪]

Desperate to catch up with his ship
with its precious cargo,

Caravaggio sets off north
towards Porto Ercole,

a hundred kilometers
through the malarial

infested swamp country,
the Maremma.

[♪ grim music ♪]

Here, the final disaster awaited.

In a pathetic attempt
to hail a ship,

Caravaggio starts
running along the beach

under the broiling July sun
before collapsing in the sand.

By now he's suffering
from a raging fever,

and is taken to a local
monastic hospital.

There, according to a
contemporary report,

without the aid of God or man,
he died, as miserably as he'd lived.

[♪ grim music ♪]

[no spoken audio]

-Nooo!

-It's sometime later that the
Pope's nephew, Scipione Borghese,

finally receives the paintings with which
Caravaggio had hoped to win his pardon.

The Cardinal finds himself
face to face with the picture

of the painter
as the slain Goliath.

The Cardinal
isn't used to this.

Artists have been
given their gift by God

to bring beauty
into the world,

to put mortal creatures in touch
with their higher selves.

That's the way
it was supposed to be,

but Caravaggio never did anything
the way it was supposed to be.

"Here I am," says this dead face,
which seems still alive.

"They said whoever delivers
my head will get a reward.

"Well, I'm turning myself in.
Will that do?

"Can I have my reward?
Can I have my pardon?"

"Sorry," says the Cardinal.
"So sorry-- you're too late."

[♪ pensive music ♪]