The trial of don Juan
The modern Don Juan is a woman in disguise—both a womanizer and a manizer, and active in both fields.
Famous, indeed legendary, she wears high boots, a flowing white shirt and a stylish little mustache, as if she’d just stepped out of the 17th century—everything but the sword.
She climbs balconies, changes lovers as fast as if she were dancing, and displays her sharp and wounding wit—in a way she does carry a sword— whenever it can win her a conquest.
Trouble is, she likes to gamble, and isn’t nearly as lucky at cards as she is at love. She loses fortunes, and is obliged to marry—in her role as a man.
But her wives—look, it’s not her fault!—die. And those who had stood to inherit believe she murdered them.
She’s been indicted, she’s a fugitive from justice, and now she’s making a video about what really happened—her testimony to the judge whom she dares not face in person.
—a
Don Juan out of Molière, Byron and Mozart, always in command, always
victorious—well, at least until she meets Celeste—
—and
encounters in her an aristocracy of feeling that compels in Don Juan the love
she usually commands from others.
And
Celeste loves her—as a man. What happens when she takes off the
mustache?
Leporello,
Don Juan's servant and foil, misses no chance to contradict or belittle
"him," though they have an affectionate bond. "She won't look that
good in the daylight, sir." "Who wants to see her in the
daylight?"
Rich
widow Pucci Winkleman and the Don fall in love and marry. When she finds out
he's a woman she conspires with him to keep it a secret—
—even
from her sister-in-law Philistia. And when Pucci accidentally falls from a high
place, and Philistia doesn't inherit, she begins an obsessive quest for
revenge.
Livingston
Bartlet rescues the Don from a gambling fiasco, and the Don rescues her from a
husband she can't bear.
When
she is hit by a train, he joins Philistia in her campaign to prevent Don Juan
from enjoying their money. While gambling with it—
—the
Don is drugged and kidnapped by an Emirate sultan, and taken to a house on the
Turkish coast—
—where
she is caught in the bath with the Sultan's seventh wife.
Don
Juan escapes, abandons herself to the sea, and swims from wherever she is (she
doesn’t know it’s Turkey) to a nearby island—
Relieved
by Don Juan's facility with disguise, he takes "her" home, where his
wife Thomasina falls in love with "him."
Don
Juan is on the point of escaping this tense situation when in walks Celeste,
whom he had loved at first sight in Seville years earlier—
—and
has never stopped dreaming about, chasing her up eternal staircases,
through labyrinths of pillars, in the sea.
With
Celeste is her domineering husband, Bloke Bletherington, a dangerous man, and
a jealous one—a Blackwater type with worldwide connections.
But
now that Celeste is here, Don Juan is helpless to leave. They are in love, and
Bloke sees it.
When
Don Juan reveals herself to Bloke as a woman, he takes “her” to Rio—and drowns.
By accident! Really, that’s how it happened!
And
how did the bitchy sister-in-law die? Well, Don Juan did try a little voodoo
while she was there—but she’s not on trial for that!
Pretentious
pictures presents
The trial
of don Juan
A comedy
of passions
Robert MacLean is an independent filmmaker. His recent The Light Touch is on Amazon Prime, Tubi and Scanbox, and his 7-minute comedy is an out-loud laugh. He is also a novelist, a playwright, a blogger, a YouTuber, a film reviewer, a literary critic, and a stand-up comic poet. Born Toronto, PhD McGill, taught at Canadian universities, too cold, live Greece, Irish citizen. No brains, but an intellectual snob.
“I was beastly but never coarse. A high-class sort of heel.”
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