All language subtitles for Renoir.2012.FRENCH

The French Riviera, 1915

Is this the Renoir home?

- What do you want?
- I was told there is work for me here.

With a painter.

- Who told you that?
- Monsieur Renoir's wife.

Ah yes. We were expecting you.

- And who are you?
- Nobody.

Just a homeless orphan.

You're a liar.
Madame Renoir is dead. Dead!

Yes?

Is it true what he says?

That the lady of the house is dead?

Come this way. The maestro awaits.

Do I frighten you, girl?

No... no.

Show me your hands.

- What's your name?
- Andrée.

Andrée Heuschling.

And you claim

that my poor wife sent you?

She told me that I could pose for you.

Hmm...

A girl from nowhere.

Sent by a ghost.

I think we can work together.

- Vermillion.
- Some vermilion, obviously.

- Here.
- Sienna.

I'll put it here.

Slowly, carefully.

Just a little turd.

- What do you want me to do?
- Huh?

Whatever you want.

If you pose for me,

you must be available all day.

Hmm... I can manage that.

Where else have you worked?

Here and there.

I am an artist.

Artist?

Well...

What kind of artist?

All kinds.

Actress.

Dancer, singer.

Am I even in there?
You have not even painted me.

What was I posing for?

Tomorrow, girl.

I can promise you nothing.
Nothing at all.

Come earlier.

Let us profit from the good light.

Give her five francs for her trouble.

Do you have five francs?

Okay?

I charge ten francs.

Maestro?
Do you mind if I move?

If that bothered me,
I would only paint apples.

I had a painter friend

not far from here in Aix.

He used to hide away to avoid the models

who prowled around his studio.

And instead he painted ... ?

Apples... just so.

And wooden mannequins.

I could never do that.

As for me, I must paint from life.

What I like is the skin.

The velvety skin of a young girl.

You aren't shy!
Why are you lurking around, you weasel?

- I'm trapping animals.
- Why aren't you in school?

My father says we never learn anything.

I thought you had no family.

My brothers have gone off to war,
my mother is dead, and my father is idle.

- Your father?
- The old man.

What's your first name?

Claude.
They call me Coco.

My name is Andrée.
But people call me Dédée.

Hey, where have you gone?

Okay, Maestro. I'm coming!

Are you pleased with your new model?

Her skin does not repel the light.
You did well to send her to me.

I told myself, here is a small Renoir.

Oh. Several small Renoirs.

I made three of you.

With this damned war, I am missing two.

Jean...

My Jeannot.

What are they doing to him?

Don't worry.
It will be okay.

Will I get him back alive?

In one piece?

Come quickly! It's the maestro!

Shit... Shit...

Shit... Shit...

Not so fast!

If you want to help me, do it properly.

Show me your brush.

That's no good.

I told you to use the wide brush.

Can't you hear me, or don't you care?

Did you read the book of fables
that I gave you?

I haven't had time.

I have excused you from school, but...

surely not from studying.

Understand?

Are you planning to stay there?

Coco, run along.
Go read your fables.

- And the canvases?
- Bah... later.

You are very modest for an actress.

An actress isn't the same as a whore.

Sit down.

I have a son who is an actor.

- Pierre.
- Really?

For a year now.

In the cinema?

Thank God, no!

In the theater!

That's not much better.

- Why do you say that?
- That isn't a real job.

A skill where you use your hands.

To make something...

...that is durable.

That stays in people's minds.

For example...

A chair.

A house.

A pair of shoes.

A plate.

Are you always like this?

Like what?

Old grouch.

Never when I'm working.

And your third son?

Jean?

- What's he doing?
- Everything and nothing.

He enlisted in the cavalry.

Just before the war began.

Unfortunate boy.

He was wounded.

Gangrene, and then worse.

Here I am.

Old, infirm...

They should have sent me there.

In the mud and trenches.

Get up. Walk around a little.

These are my father's gloves.
They don't fit him any more.

- Who is that child?
- My brother Jean.

- He is beautiful.
- In reality, not so much.

- And this is you?
- No, that is my big brother Pierre.

Hmm... He is the actor?

- Ah, that's you!
- No, it's not me!

Surely that's you?

I tell you it wasn't me.

Your mother was beautiful.

I don't know.

When I knew her, she was old and fat.

Show me your tits.

- What did you say?
- Show me.

Why?

- You show them to him.
- That's not the same.

- That is art.
- The two of you talk.

You just wait.
You'll end up in the old man's bed.

Like my mother, like all the others.

Jean!

Eh! Come here, everyone!
Jean has come home!

Oh my Jeanot!

My God, he has wasted away!
You haven't been eating?

In the army, yes.
At the hospital, no.

We'll fatten you up!
Come and see your father.

Are you able to make it?
Do you want any help?

Maestro! He is here!

- Second Lieutenant?
- Ah, yes.

You two show me some respect, rookies.

So you're all better?

If I was completely better,
I'd be back in combat.

If you were healed, you'd be dead.

Coco! Really?

Jean!

Jean!

Hey!

Your wound.
Is it serious?

It's healing up well.

I'll limp for a while.

That will make me
look like a chic officer!

I saw Pierre in Paris.

He was demobilized.

They still have to do more surgery.

- Again?
- On his arm.

He's a penguin, and you're lame.

Me, on my little chair,...

...with a pillow under my ass...
We're all doing so well.

They must demobilize you, too.

For the moment, I'm recovering.

Only time can heal this wound.

You're not planning to return
to the front?

If the doctors decide that I can go,I'll go.
- Jean...

You can't force destiny.

Hmm?

We must let things go.

Like a cork bobbing along
in the current of a stream.

I know. Your theory of the cork.

It's not a theory; it's reality.

Well, back when I was
a porcelain decorator,

the arrival of machinery decided my fate.

If we had continued to decorate by hand

I would have remained a plate painter.

And very happy to be one.

Is that fried eggplant?

I dreamt about those every night.

Where is Gabrielle?

Papa, have you heard any news?

No.

Did she come to mama's funeral?

Yes, of course.

She promised to write.

And so?

But the mails, with the war on...

She had a crush on that
little postman from Cagnes.

He was mobilized.

If you're still hungry,
I can make you an omelet.

No, thank you.

You also made rice pudding?

That's easy to digest,
for your father.

He has gone back to figure painting?

Yes. He goes every day to the studio.

After all, he now has Dédée!

Oh...

- What's up?
- We're going to get a lamp.

There.

You'd be better off leaving.

Jean, if you want to see your father....

You'll see. You'll sleep well tonight.

Until tomorrow.

Good night, papa.

They've removed some of the bone?

Four and a half centimeters.

Will it grow back?

No.

But I'm not doing too badly, you know.

They wanted to amputate it.

It was mama who saved my leg.

Tell me what the war is like.

It's just war.

- I made you some brioche.
- Thank you!

You want to make yourself useful?

Go ahead and put a necklace on her.

Take the one with the emerald.

The maestro wants you to wear it.

You're speaking to me so familiarly?

Please excuse me.

Are you Jean?

I saw you in a painting.

Me too. I have just seen you.

He makes me look fat.

He made me look like a girl.

There! All covered now, maestro.

You've been...

...working as a model for my father.

I can understand why.

A painting by Renoir....
I want to eat it.

You want to eat me?

Yellow number six.

- Some red.
- Maestro?

Would you mind if I lie down?

No, no.

Naples yellow.

I'm tired.

I haven't slept.

Do you want to know why?

No.

I have a new friend.
A wonderful lover.

Ah. You want to take
your position, if you please?

Whatever you prefer.

Oh well. Sure.
Work comes first.

Yeah. Add some pure white.

I read that a great actress cannot play

a lover without having some adventures.

What do you think?

Nothing.

Nothing.

You're painting more quickly.

All my life, I have been
perplexed by complications.

Nowadays, I simplify.

It's the brush strokes,
always the brush strokes.

Each blends into the next.

It's like they're copulating.

Whereas you control the composition.

But this is not drawing...

but color.

You follow me?

Uh, yeah... I'm trying.

Hey!

Your father isn't a glazier!

Your old gadget isn't
going to work anymore.

How's it going with him?

Same as always.

He never talks to me,
except to yell at me.

Don't think he ever
talked to Pierre or me...

Or even mama.

I wonder if he ever told her,
"I love you."

There. You see,
my old gadget does still work.

Have you told Dédée?

What?

That you love her?

You're crazy! Huh?

- Take back what you said!
- Stop! Have mercy!

She doesn't care about
either of us anyway, that bitch.

She already has lots of boyfriends.

How do you know?

I've seen guys waiting
around in the evenings.

No!

You live in a house
full of beautiful paintings.

And you stick this crap on the wall!

So what, as long as I like it?

You really are crazy.

Why isn't there any news about Gabrielle?

He fired her.

But I thought that she left...

Because of a boyfriend?
No way!

It was mama who fired her.

She thought she was spending
too much time with the old man.

You know what I mean.

Hmm.

That was nothing new.

I miss Gabrielle.

More than mama?

Wait, we're coming, Jean.

- Are you ready?
- Yes.

I'll put my hat on you.

Yes.

- Not like that.
- Carefully.

Steady, steady.
Ready to go?

You tell us if your leg hurts.

Is it nice to be carried around by women?

Coco. Stay with these fools.

No.

Should I add some black?

Here at the Renoir studio,
we refuse to create the doldrums.

This painting is to be a pleasant thing...

And happy.

There are many unpleasant things in life,

so I will not add any more.

Poverty, despair, death.

Those are not my business.

And the war?

Not that either.

Tragic things...

preoccupy other people very well.

Could you imagine me shooting myself?

At my age?

This painting will be coquettish.

Shit!

That is great.

Pearl White has filmed a new serial.

"The Mysteries of New York"?

I can't wait until that comes out.

I'm waiting for the sequel to "Vampires."

That Musidora. I find her to be mysterious.

If you only knew how easy it is
to put on a mysterious air.

- Like an American actress?
- And why not?

What do they have that I don't? Nothing.

Nothing at all.

You just have to reach out and grab.

Grab it all, Jean.

Don't you fear. I want it all.

I don't want to wait.

What?

I didn't say anything.

You don't want to wait.
You have been given everything.

What have I been given?

A famous name,

and money.
You, you don't want to work.

You don't need anything. You're wealthy.

Wealthy?

Of course, my dear.

And that's not all.

What is your profession?

Soldier.

Not anymore.

The war isn't over.

It can end without you.

Hmm...

You've gotta know who you are.

And you? Who are you?

I am who I am.

Is this a riddle?

You love mysterious women.

Musidora.

Well, what is your ambition?

Your big dream?

Well, I don't know.... No.

No dream or ambition.

Don't tell that to the woman you love.
She'll despise you.

Trust me.

Do you despise me?

Why not be an artist like your father?

My father has never seen himself like that.

He sees himself only as
a worker, who paints.

Hmm. A worker that everyone calls Maestro?

He refuses to be an artist.

And that prohibits
anyone else from being one?

Look. At 13, he was a painter...

On porcelain. I know.

- The Maestro wants you to pose!
- Later!

- I'm exhausted!
- No! Immediately!

I don't despise you.
Not at all.

On the contrary, I love you very much.
Yeah.

So long, you.

Papa?

Papa?

Decaying flesh.

Pardon me?

Decaying flesh.

That is what one critic
wrote about my painting.

I heard that you visited the spring.

That isn't very sensible at your age.

It is precisely at my age,

let us suppose,

that one should visit the spring.

You have increased
your doses of antipyrine.

Yes.

Yes, the night is...

Right. Now we will test your knees.

Go on.

Move just a little bit.

That is difficult, huh?

Now I would like you to stand up.

I cannot walk.

That is just what I would like to verify.

I'm sure you can do it.

Get up... and walk.

There.

Now you see?

I've given it up.

Walking...

...saps all of my strength.

There's nothing left over for painting.

And when you can no longer use your hands?

Then I will paint with my tail.

Wait! They're going to escape!

Look out!

What?

What did you say?

I don't understand what they are saying.

They're saying that was beautiful.

How much do the films cost?

Five sous per meter.
If it's an American film, eight sous.

I'll take a French one.
Give me this one. That will be all.

- Do you have the third reel?
- It's all there.

Down near the bottom,
there are some dirty movies.

- If you're a connoisseur....
- Ah... No, thank you.

- That'll be ten.
- Thank you.

Be careful with that film.
One spark and it explodes.

Explosions? I've seen plenty of those.

- Are you on leave?
- Convalescing.

Ah! Lucky boy!

Will you sell me your uniform?

No, I still need it.

What regiment?

Sixth Battalion, Mountain Infantry.

We fought in the Vosges.

That's a tough region.

Did you have any friends

who fell in battle?

Well, sure.

Poor guys.

It seems they bury them right on the spot.

In mass graves.

There was no time to organize any funerals.

Yet families strongly prefer it.

And we could do business together.

You point out any
families in distress to me.

And then what?

I...

I provide a sealed coffin.

Sealed coffin?

With a corpse inside.

I have guys who dig up our dead for me.

How old? How old do you think I am?

I don't know. 25, 30?

I'm 21 years old. A combat veteran.

I busted my ass for years
to save assholes like you.

- And that badge, what is it?
- That's our regiment.

- Did you climb high?
- Very high.

Didn't you run out of air up there?

We got used to it.

You ask a lot of questions.
- Maurice, are you coming?

Not you.
He's waiting for you in the studio.

Off to your work.

You put the minced stuffing
into the zucchini flower.

It's stifling in here.
How can you stand it?

I'm hungry.
What have you got?

If you're hungry,
you can fix something yourself.

I can make you something.

- An omelet?
- No. Nothing at all!

We are not paid to wait on her.

- When do I get MY pay?
- Pay? What for?

- For my work!
- What work?

What I do all day.
Dressed like a whore.

- Gabrielle was never paid.
- No...

Not for cleaning or for anything else.

What else?

It's okay, I know the story.

How did she end up?
She was thrown out like a pauper.

Who told you that?

They're jealous. I'm not a maid.

Empress of India?

What was that?

You'll get paid

when we have counted up the hours.

- Not those!
- Why not?

The maestro painted those.

So what?

Madeleine posed and also worked.

I too have posed,
and I don't put on airs.

You start as a servant
and you end up as a model.

Or you start out as a model
and you end up as a maid.

Not me!

She's crazy!

You wanted me to pose, no?

Completely crazy.

Oh, look, isn't it pretty, with flowers?

What do you think?
Not bad?

Renoir painted that.

You're sick!
Do you know how much that's worth?

No, how much?

I'm tired of Renoir!
He makes me sick, that Renoir!

- Stop it now!
- Let me go!

Let me go!

What's going on?

Tell her to calm down.

Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!

Let go of me! Damn!

She went crazy.
All of a sudden.

Don't say anything to the maestro.
I'm on it.

Are you coming?

It is about to begin. This is for you.

Thank you.

Have you replied to the inquiry
about your military record?

- Yes.
- Are you sure?

Yes.

Change position!

Not like that.

- But how then?
- Floating.

Curved.

- I'll see to it.
- Young ladies!

Floating.

Suspended in the landscape.

Madeleine, come here.

An arm, there.

Neither flower nor hat.

Take it off.

Tell me what you're looking for.

A painting cannot be explained.
It's meant to be viewed.

Go see "The Courtesans"
by Titian at the Louvre.

If it doesn't make you want to caress them,

then you really do not understand anything.

Fine....

Where are you . . .?

To the Louvre.

- Is the Maestro here?
- No.

He's working.

I'll bring him a snack.

Given his mood, you'd better not.

At his age, they usually paint still lifes.

Dédée, can you hold him for a minute?

I'm going to the bathroom.

Don't be concerned if he cries.

Jean, can you come here, please?

I can hold him if you want, Andrée.

Papa?

Papa?

Papa?

Papa.

Are you all right?

Papa?

You must stop; you cannot go on.

The pain passes, Jean...

but beauty remains.

You've already painted everything.

I still have some progress to make.

I'll go on to the end of my strength.

I paint like a child.

But that's fine.

I've tried all my life
to paint like a child.

Without knowing anything.

Without thinking.

Can I do it?

No, my dear.

This is too ugly.

Too soon, too late...

All actresses have one.

- Where did you find it?
- Stolen.

At Negresco, in the bedroom of a baroness.

She had three like that.

Let yourself go.

You're very cute like that.

Very cute.

My little dyke.

My little whore.

Does this hurt you?

No.

Even if I sink in my nails?

Try.

I'll make you suffer.

I know.

Jean, you must promise me.

What?

When the war is over, we'll make a film.

You're the one who wants to make movies.

No, both of us. Together.

You don't think I'd spend my life

with a guy who painted plates!

Do you promise?

We must find you a partner.

What kind? Some sort of military officer?

No.

I mean someone who will invest
in your films.

You will be my financier.

We will make films with your money.

I don't have any!

But your father's paintings?
They must be worth a lot.

I promise.

Long Night

Eternal Torment

"Heaven has no corner of azure.
Men and things,

jumble along at random,
on the dark tree. "

"Long Night," exclamation point.

Long...

Are you okay?

I think your father has guessed about us.

Do you mind?

What does it matter, really?

Wait for me.

I have something to tell you.

I wanted to tell you earlier.

I couldn't.

Now you can.

I have re-enlisted.

What?

I've joined up again, and I'm
going back to the front.

I don't believe you.

In aviation. I enlisted today.

- You didn't!
- Yes.

Jean!

They said I was fit to serve.

I have to leave in 10 days.

Why?

Why?

I can't let down my friends.

You cannot let them down?

No.

And me, you can let me down?

You promised me, Jean.
You promised everything.

- I'll come back.
- No.

You will fall like all the others.

Why did you give in?

Nobody asked you to go back.

Did you even think of me?

Huh? You thought about your friends,
but did you ever think of me?

You know, it's easy.
It is very easy to be killed.

The canvas can be raised or lowered.

Jeannot thought of everything,
but I helped.

It can slide left or right.

It's not that you that
moves, but the support.

You'll get less tired.

It's very clever. Very good.

- Is something wrong?
- Nothing.

She's usually on time.

She didn't say anything to you?

No.

Maybe she is sick.

Jean.

Can you send someone to her house?

I don't know where she lives.

She's been coming here all this time,

and no one ever asked?
Not even you?

No.

Sorry.

Maestro?

You can paint me in the meantime
and then finish up with Dédée.

Hmm... You are very kind, my dear, but....

It doesn't work like that.

You have your whole life.

Not me.

What are you talking about?

You know very well.

She's not coming, right?

Did you treat her well?

Did I need your permission?

Women...

Whether she's a whore or a queen...

They are owed the same respect.

If she does not come back,
it is nothing to do with that.

Tell me why she disappeared so abruptly.

Because I am going back to the war.

Okay.

Do what you want.

I won't hold you back.

Gabrielle, too.
You did not hold her back.

She was with us for 15 years.

She has the right to start a family.

We were her family.

It had nothing to do with me. It
was your mother who asked her to leave.

But that suited you, as usual.

What do you mean?

You've always hidden behind mama.

Your famous theory of the cork.

You use that to avoid
deciding anything yourself.

Sheer cowardice! That's what it is!

You piss me off, I tell you!

Stop talking to me about Gabrielle.

It is Andrée who has gone away.

My best model since...

Titian...

Would have loved her.

Her breasts are like her knees.

Shapely and firm.

With such delicate folds.

They form such a golden sheen.

Flesh!

There is nothing else!

If you don't understand that,
you can't understand anything!

Painting.

You can't think of anything
else, even during the war.

Go and get yourself shot up, fool.

Or if you prefer...

Go and kill some brave
Bavarian smoking a pipe.

If you think that will change anything.

You, too.

You can't get along without her.

He won't turn into
pulp; he's solid.

- He's about to buckle!
- You've got him now!

- Come on, get on!
- I'll ride him some more!

Catherine, here's a colt
who needs some training.

That's not a foal; he's an ace.

My ace of hearts.

- What are you doing?
- I'm learning to fly.

Come, my dear, you're gonna fly with me.

Get lost.

- Enough. I don't want to see you here.
- Are you giving me orders?

You're not my lieutenant.
This isn't the army.

Here we have fun.
We have fun, we laugh, we drink.

- Eh!
- Fun, is it?

- You're hurting me.
- You're hurting her.

Who is this Catherine?

It's nothing. No one.

Look at you. You're ugly and dirty.

I'm not dirty.

You're made up like a...

What?

Go on, say it!

Like a bitch!

Stop it!

Just stop!

My friend, don't do that!

I'm not your friend.

You're going to calm down, right?

Are you all right?

No.

Why did you come after me?

You never say anything.
Or just that I'm a bitch.

I'm not a bitch.

I miss you.
I need you.

I made you a promise.

That promise? You can forget it.

I'll never be an actress.
I have no talent.

Like an American actress, you mean.

You've never tried. I know you could.

No.

Girls like me,
we just flip through magazines.

We play at being the femme fatale
and end up being maids.

Let's try!

You have to grasp at everything and
not be afraid. That's what you told me.

- And when the war is over...
- When will it end?

What condition will you be in?
Will you still be alive?

And what about me?

I know what you think of me.

That I have no ambition.

That I'm a spoiled rich kid. And naive.

If you wait for me, I will be back.

I want you back.

Renoir needs you.

Renoir? The father or the son?

- Madeleine, do you recognize her?
- Yes.

Wait. Gabrielle? Come join us.

No, no. Just the three brothers.

They're waiting.

Come on, Gabrielle.

Andrée, come on!

Don't move, please!

Thank you very much. It was perfect.

Was it you who invited Gabrielle?

No! No, no.

It had to be the girls!

Yes...

Is this a feast or a funeral?

Your friend Andrée told me
that you are going into the cinema?

No. Nothing has been decided.

That's reassuring.

The cinema is not for the French.

It is just an entertainment
for the masses.

Our artistic baggage is
too old and too massive.

It is rare for all three brothers
to be together.

Hopefully this is not the last time.

Jean. Just what are you doing?

- What am I doing?
- Playing daredevil of the air.

I almost lost an arm. Why go back?

Would you bring me back a gas mask?

We'll see. If you are sensible.

Let's go, rookies!

So, are you coming?

It's okay, you know.

I'll be fine.

Is he here?

He's waiting for you.

You, too, were waiting.

Papa?

Your mother...

I owe her everything.

I had a turmoil in my blood.

She calmed my nerves.

When I met her,
I was 20 years older than she.

I was convinced that my life
was nearly over.

But no.

It was just beginning.

I never thought I would
one day follow her coffin.

Don't be stupid, son.

You, too, Papa.

Listen...

I think you can walk over here.

Come. Come, come here.

Oh!

So? So now what?

Yes! Come on!

Pierre-Auguste Renoir died in 1919,
after finishing Les Baigneuses,

his pictorial testament.

After the war, Jean married Andrée
and entered the cinema industry with her.

She would become his favorite actress,
under the name of Catherine Hessling,

until the couple's
brutal separation in 1931.

Her career was then interrupted,

while Renoir became
a world-renowned film director.

The two of them died in 1979.
She, forgotten and anonymous.

He, in Hollywood, covered with honors.