All language subtitles for Episode 5 - Libertad!

[maracas shaking]

[film reel clicking]

[gentle playful music]

[bombs screeching]

[loud explosion]

In 1919, young poets
returning from the war

found new weapons in
Dadaism and Surrealism.

In Moscow, the October
Revolution of 1917

had toppled the old world order.

Meanwhile, Andre Breton,
Philippe Soupault
and Louis Aragon

launched their own grenades.

They explored dreams
and automatic writing,

invented games and
founded reviews.

[bright orchestral music]

Man Ray immortalized the
small band with his camera,

before returning to
the arms of Kiki.

Picasso mixed the colors of Olga

with those of Marie-Therese.

Salvador Dali explored the
dark side of his unconscious

and was sidelined by the
Surrealists as a result.

In the early 1930s, the
fascist threat forced artists

to become more
politically involved.

But which guiding star
could they turn to?

[people talking]

Louis Aragon found
himself a family.

Born to a father who
refused to recognize him,

he became a son of Stalin, the
Little Father of the People.

Elsa Triolet gave him her heart
and an adoptive fatherland:

The Soviet Union.

[man speaking in
foreign language]

Thanks to her,

he entered the most
orthodox Stalinist circles.

Aragon learned to speak Russian,

to wield the ideological hammer
and the political sickle.

He was about to betray his old
companions once and for all.

[steam engine puffing]

[train rattling]

Aragon arrived in Ukraine
on November 16th, 1930.

Andre Breton had asked him

to represent the
Surrealist movement

at the World Congress
of Writers in Kharkov.

[people talking]
[gentle music]

A panel of writers
from around the world

had come to consider
one major question:

What defined the literature
of the Proletariat?

Who was in and who was out?

Or, as Stalin's subtext
might have read,

"Where does a bunch
of bourgeois writers

who are lazy by profession,
homosexual by vice,

and greedy by nature, get
off calling their review

'Surrealism In the Service
of the Revolution?'"

What did they know about the
Revolution and the Proletariat?

The message was clear.

The Communists would declare
war on the Surrealists,

unless of course they started
towing the party line.

Aragon signed a
detailed mea culpa

stating that the Surrealists

had been wrong about everything.

They had despicably stood

by the idealistic
theories of Freud,

and had shamefully defended
traitors like Trotsky.

They had been led astray.

Aragon promised they would
not have to be told again.

[crowd applauding]

From now on, they would
submit all of their writing

for review by the Party's
magnanimous censor board.

When he returned home,

he found Breton devastated
by this betrayal.

Aragon tried a few
evasive maneuvers,

but their falling-out
was inevitable.

[brakes squealing]

[loud crashing]

In 1932, Dali, Eluard,
Crevel and a few others

published a collective text

excoriating Aragon's
intellectual cowardice.

The title itself said it all:

[eerie music]

"Turncoat!"

In the conflict between
Aragon and Breton,

who refused to submit
to Stalin's dictates,

many fell somewhere in between.

[gentle music]

The USSR was a big
question mark at that time,

and their hearts were torn.

As a result, many
made the journey to
go see for themselves.

In 1933, the October
Group set sail

for the International Olympiad
of Proletarian Theater,

which was held in the USSR.

[ship horn blowing]

[people talking]

Poet Jacques Prevert was
the theater troupe's scribe.

With his brother Pierrot,
his friends Mouloudji,

Marcel Duhamel, Jean-Louis
Barrault, and a few others,

he put on plays

in working-class
neighborhoods and factories.

Since Soviet ships were not
allowed to dock at French ports,

the October Group
sailed from London.

These rabble-rousers
with bad manners

immediately made their
presence felt on the ship.

[people shouting]
[light 30s music]

They slept in the cargo holds,
took over the first class,

and chased girls.

When the ship stopped
over in German ports,

its hammer and sickle

flying opposite the swastika
flapping in the wind,

they would come ashore.

The ashes of banned
books, burned in giant
bonfires in 1933,

still hung in the air.

Some made contact with
persecuted German Communists,

while others visited brothels.

[upbeat music]

No sooner had they
arrived in Leningrad

than they were greeted
by the comrades

of the Cobbler's Marching Band,

who were horrified to discover
they had forgotten the lyrics

to the "Internationale."

Welcome to the USSR.

[people singing]

[man talking]

For several weeks, the
October Group performed

for enthusiastic crowds.

[crowd applauding]

[streetcar bell dings]

At the Grand Theater of Moscow,

Stalin welcomed the
troupe in person.

They were handed
a letter to sign

calling Stalin a political,
artistic and all-around genius,

but they refused.

Jacques Prevert was asked

why he wouldn't
become a party member.

"They'd lock me up," he replied.

[bird chirping]

After Jacques Prevert got home,

Andre Gide prepared
to take the reins.

For some time, the Soviets
had been trying to ensnare him

in their web of propaganda.

Gide was a household name.

At over 60, many considered him
to be a moral guiding voice.

As one of the founders

of the prestigious
NRF publishing house,

he had been active around issues

that made him good
comrade material.

In "Recollections on
the Assize Court,"

he criticized bourgeois justice.

In "Voyage in the Congo,"
he attacked colonialism.

He had traveled to Berlin to
defend the Communists accused

of setting fire
to the Reichstag.

He had aligned himself with
Moscow on several occasions.

In short, Gide would make a
pretty poster boy for the USSR.

[car puttering]

Gide was a very complex man,

revered by some and accused
of perversion by others.

One had only to visit his
home in Paris, on Rue Vaneau,

to realize there was more
to him than met the eye.

Male lovers old and new could
be found in every corner,

living there or passing through.

His guests included writers
from around the world

and the champions
of various causes.

[gentle playful music]

Across the hall
lived Maria Monnom,

Gide's close friend
and confidante,

and mother to Elisabeth,

the girl Gide had
sired a daughter with

to secure his lineage.

[lips kissing]

Gide was named the
baby's godfather.

Of a generous nature,

he made his daughter's mother
a gift of Pierre Herbert,

his lover at the time.

Nevertheless, Gide would never
forget his official wife,

a cousin he had
married years earlier

and whom he had sent to
live on a remote property.

[gentle music]

[car puttering]

In June 1935, the
apartment at Rue Vaneau

was in a state of pandemonium.

[typewriter keys clicking]

Four secretaries typed away

and the telephone
rang off the hook.

[phone rings]

On the 21st, the International
Congress of Writers

for the Defense of Culture
was to begin in Paris.

[phone rings]

Andre Gide had agreed to
preside over the Congress

with Andre Malraux.

230 delegates, including the
big names in world literature,

had arrived from the
four corners of the globe

to denounce fascism.

[gentle playful music]

In Germany, Hitler
had usurped power.

And for 10 years now,

Mussolini had been crushing
Italy in his iron fist.

[people talking]

Humanist Europe was up
in arms against Nazism,

dubbed the "Brown Plague,"

which had already
begun to deport Jews

and undesirable artists.

Einstein, Brecht,
and Thomas Mann

fled Germany along
with many others.

In attendance were Heinrich
Mann, Robert Musil, HG Wells,

Aldous Huxley, Boris
Pasternak and Isaac Babel.

All the speakers were
of the same persuasion:

committed antifascists.

[flying figures squealing]

Since the Congress was sponsored
by members of the Party,

none of the official guests
digressed into Trotskyism,

anarchism or surrealism.

Louis Aragon played
his cards so well

he managed to keep Andre Breton
off the roster of speakers.

[dramatic music]

The two men had
become sworn enemies.

One lectured from the
presidential podium,

while the other snickered
in the back row.

[snickering]

It was Paul Eluard who was to
read Andre Breton's speech.

He was scheduled to appear
at an evening session

on the second-to-last day.

By the time Paul
Eluard got up to speak,

the journalists
had all gone home

and the benches were empty.

Eluard concluded
with these words,

which perfectly
illustrated the rift

between Communists
and Surrealists:

"Marx said, 'Transform
the world,'.

Rimbaud said, 'Transform life'.

For us these two mantras
are one and the same."

Surrealists and Communists
both wanted a revolution,

just not the same one.

Eluard gradually distanced
himself from Breton,

whom he found too
overbearing, too intolerant.

[heavy footsteps]

He left the Hall of
the Mutualite, for
Faubourg St. Germain,

where he could
often find an artist

critical of Aragon,
Breton, and Communism,

as well as political
meetings in general.

On that particular day, Picasso
was also sitting in a cafe.

He couldn't keep his eyes
off a striking brunette

seated a few tables away.

[gentle music]

She kept herself amused

by jabbing a sharp knife
between her fingers.

[loud tapping]

Within minutes,
she was bleeding.

Eluard knew the young woman.

Born to a Croatian father
and a French mother,

she had grown up in Argentina.

She was 27, while
Picasso was 55.

She had worked with
Georges Bataille,

and moved in Surrealist circles.

She was a photographer.

Her name was Dora Markovitch,

but she was known
to all as Dora Maar.

Two years earlier,

the painter had secretly
fathered a second child:

Maya, the half-sister
of little Paulo.

[Maya cooing]

Picasso finally found
a compromise with Olga.

He would not grant
her a divorce,

but would compensate
her handsomely.

When Dora Maar entered his
life, Picasso made room for her.

He opened his homes
and his heart to her,

and celebrated her
in his paintings.

He sent Marie-Therese
to the countryside

where she lived
in a little house

belonging to the dealer
Ambroise Vollard.

He went to visit
her there regularly.

Dora found him a new studio
at 7 Rue des Grands Augustins,

a spacious loft previously
occupied by Jean-Louis Barrault,

where the October Group
had once rehearsed.

[lively band music]

The October Group had
returned to the stage.

Jacques Prevert and
his troupe paid homage

to the formation of
the Popular Front.

[upbeat playful music]

They toured striking workshops,

department stores and factories.

[people shouting]

[people shouting]

The newspapers sent their
reporters into the field

to cover the 1936 strikes.

In Billancourt and Saint-Ouen,
at Bastille and Republique,

young photographers
snapped photographs

of parades, balls,
and other festivities.

[people shouting]

These included
three close friends

whose names were still unknown:

David Seymour, Henri
Cartier-Bresson,
and Andre Friedmann.

Friedmann had taken
a young brunette

with a man's haircut
under his wing.

Her name was Gerda Pohorylle

and she was also a photographer.

They were both Jews.

He was Hungarian
and she was German.

He had opposed the
Nazis in Berlin,

and she had fled
the country in 1933.

They crossed paths in Paris.

When they arrived in France,

Gerda and Andre lived on
fish caught in the Seine,

bread stolen from bakeries,

and the few pennies their friend
Cartier-Bresson gave them.

The two starving artists were
young, attractive and in love.

In 1934, the magazine "Vu"

sent Andre on
assignment to Saarland.

[opera music]
[people talking]

When he returned, he bought
himself a Leica on credit.

It was with this small
and inconspicuous camera

that the Hungarian covered
the general strikes of 1936,

the demonstrations, and the
victory of the Popular Front.

But the newspapers were
not buying their photos,

so the young couple devised a
scheme to help their chances.

They made the rounds
of the publishers

posing as a photographer's
assistant and sales agent.

[people talking]

"Who is this photographer?"

"An American.

A hero in his country.

Newspapers all over the
world are fighting over him."

"And this photographer's name?"

"Robert Capa."

And that was how Andre Friedmann
came to be Robert Capa.

Later, Gerda Pohorylle would
chose the name Gerda Taro.

[airplane engine puttering]

On June the 16th, 1936,
Robert Capa and Gerda Taro

missed one of the
day's big events:

Andre Gide's
departure for Moscow.

The Soviets had
succeeded in getting

the French literary titan
to pay them a visit.

The event was of
considerable importance.

Gide was a symbol in the USSR,

and winning his support
was a major cause.

[crowd cheering]

When his plane landed
at the Moscow Aerodrome,

hundreds of reporters
were there to greet him.

[crowd cheering]

The crowd offered him flowers

and showered him
with hugs and kisses.

The Soviets spared no expense.

An official Lincoln drove
Gide to a deluxe suite

at the Metropol Hotel,

six rooms with a sumptuous
living room, bathroom and piano.

[piano key strikes]

[lively piano music]

That evening, Gide
dined with Aragon,

who had arrived from
London to welcome him.

The two men were not
fond of each other.

Circumstances, however, required

that they come to a compromise.

Maxime Gorki, a
friend of Lenin's

and the USSR's most beloved
writer, had just died.

The country was in mourning.

Gide wrote a speech

to be delivered on the
day of his funeral.

But Aragon read it first,

and finding it
ridiculous, rewrote it.

"There was no reason

to let a French writer
humiliate himself,"

he said disingenuously.

Gide delivered his
speech on the Red Square

under the watchful
eyes of comrade Stalin.

[Gide speaking]
[playful music]

Four days later, Gide took
the train to Leningrad.

There, he joined his
travel companions

who had arrived
from France by boat,

most notably Eugene Dabit,
the author of "Hotel du Nord,"

and Jacques Schiffrin,

the creator of the Pleiade
edition of great works.

[loud squealing]
[train engine puffing]

[marching music]

Escorted by his retinue,

Gide ventured deeper
into the country.

They traveled in a
special railroad car

with compartments, sleeping
berths, and a breakfast nook.

A motorcar drove alongside them

carrying welcome banners
for their admirers to wave

when they arrived.

[playful music]

Everywhere they stopped,

the travelers were
whisked off to banquets

held in their honor.

Each meal cost as much as
one worker earned in a month.

They were always taken to
the most luxurious hotels

and the best restaurants.

Comrade Gide was uneasy.

This isolation had
begun to bother him.

He wanted to meet the people.

[door squeaking]

In Tbilisi he
discovered the baths.

He was overjoyed.

"How extraordinary!"

Taking care not to be
followed, he returned.

[train rattling]

As time went on, cracks
appeared in the facade.

[gentle playful music]

The visitors counted the long
lines in front of the shops,

noted that products
were of poor quality

and in short supply.

The censors redacted
the speeches they wrote.

[gentle playful music]

They saw poor people
by the thousands,

but also the beginnings of
an industrial bourgeoisie.

They saw the emergence
of patriotic nationalism,

state-sanctioned art,
and a new ruling class

whose bureaucrats were out
of touch with the people.

They saw a total war being
waged against religion,

a puppet press, and an
insufferable personality cult.

Stalin!

Stalin was everywhere.

The population worshiped,
adored and feared him.

Gide wanted to speak to him

about the condition
of homosexuals,

who were being deported
to camps for treatment.

But Stalin refused
to open his door.

[people talking]

A few days later,

Andre Gide and his
companions left the country.

[airplane engine puttering]

On the plane back to France,
the writer imagined the book

he could write
about his journey.

[dishes clanking]

Shortly after his
return to France,

Andre Gide had dinner with
Clara and Andre Malraux

in a restaurant on the
Place des Victoires.

Some thought of Malraux as
the raider of Khmer riches.

In 1925, he was sentenced by
the tribunal of Phnom Penh

for pillaging seven bas-reliefs
from a temple in Angkor.

Others thought of him
as a friend of the Reds.

But everyone knew him the
author of "The Royal Way,"

winner of the 1930
Interallie prize,

and "Man's Fate," which garnered
the Prix Goncourt in 1933.

[man speaking in
foreign language]

Gide was returning
from the USSR.

Malraux was back from Spain.

The two men had
plenty to talk about.

[dramatic music]

[airplane engine puttering]

Spain was a bloody battlefield.

On July the 18th,
1936, General Franco,

the supreme chief of
the Canary Islands

and commander-in-chief
of the armies of Morocco,

rose up against the Republic.

The French government
sent Malraux

to evaluate the scope
of the rebellion.

[gentle playful music]

The writer landed in a
capital on high alert.

Militiamen in blue overalls

had armed themselves with
hunting rifles or antique guns.

On the plazas, loud
speakers broadcast news

from around the country,
and the news was bad.

[people shouting]

In three days the Fascists

had conquered more
than a third of Spain.

[heavy marching footsteps]

A steady stream of trucks armed
with rifles and machine guns

flooded the streets.

There were those that
belonged to the Assault Guard,

the Republicans,

or the Trotskyites of the
Marxist Worker's Party.

But it was the
anarchists of the CNT

who got the most cheers, for
they had just saved Barcelona,

and were leaving
to mount an assault

on cities conquered
by the Fascists.

[crowd cheering]

[Malraux speaking
in foreign language]

Malraux veritably gushed
about the war in Spain,

and soon got carried away.

The day after the insurrection,

the Spanish Prime Minister

had sent the French government
a distress telegram.

Meanwhile, Franco had appealed
to Mussolini and Hitler,

who quickly dispatched
bombers and war planes.

Weakened by the
conservative opposition,

Leon Blum had aligned
with the British position

of non-intervention.

The French Popular Front

would not come to the rescue
of its Spanish sister.

Gide asked a few questions,

but was quickly swept up
by Malraux's monologue,

which he punctuated
with big, graceful

and descriptive hand gestures

that were worthy of a
bullfighter's flourishes.

As the meal wore on,
Gide lost ground.

He was overpowered by
Malraux's presence.

His only concern was
not appearing stupid

in the company of this
brilliant younger man.

Besides, what really
interested him about Malraux

was not his thoughtful
interpretation

of Spanish anarcho-syndicalism,

or the importance of the Moscow
trials being kept a secret.

No, what Gide wanted to know

was the state of Andre
and Clara's relationship.

[bird chirping]
[gentle music]

Were they still in love?

Would they split up?

What was the name of the
pilot Clara was smitten with?

Where would Andre sleep tonight?

[hearts kissing]

Gide was a gossip who
loved starting rumors.

If he learned, for instance,

that Malraux was
meeting his mistress

Josette Clotis after dinner,

all of literary Paris
was sure to know too.

[drums rolling]

Malraux had been looking
for planes and pilots

ever since the war started.

His tenacious ability to
overcome any obstacle,

his contacts at the
Air Ministry, his
wife Clara's support,

and the Spanish Republic's
gold all worked in his favor.

In eight days, he had managed
to buy several aircraft

and to hire a handful of pilots.

[phone rings]

[drums rolling]

In August, he was named
Coronel of the Republican Army.

[airplane engine puttering]

His mission was to train

and command a
squadron of volunteers

based in Cuatro Vientos, 10
kilometers Southwest of Madrid.

And so the squadron
Espana was born.

It was made up of Italians,
Spaniards, Germans and Russians.

They were all adventurers

and several were truly
devoted to the cause.

The crews did not speak
the same language.

[airplane engine puttering]

Many of the planes
were secondhand.

[airplane engines humming]

There were no flags,
ranks or uniforms.

Everyone was on a
first-name basis.

Instead of the
three-finger salute,

the soldiers used a raised
fist and a hearty "Salud!"

Salud!

The Coronel was dressed in a tie

and often a cap.

He was a reflection of
the unit he commanded,

more anarchist than commander.

On August the 17th,

the Coronel saw combat
for the first time.

The squadron's mission was to
hold back the fascist column,

which was getting
dangerously close to Madrid.

They had to watch out for
anti-aircraft artillery,

and fly for as long as
possible above the cloud cover.

The aircraft had
no bomb launchers,

so they had to make
do with their hands.

The bay doors swung open,

and the men braced themselves
as the wind whipped inside.

[loud explosions]

There was a series
of explosions.

[loud explosions]

The fascist column
had been stopped.

The Battle of Medellin

was the first to be won by
the Republican Air Force.

[loud explosion]

[gentle music]
[car engine puttering]

While Malraux fought in Spain,

Gide was putting the finishing
touches on his own bomb,

which he had been tweaking
since his return from the USSR.

He hoped to publish it soon.

The book said that he
had made a mistake.

Seen from up close,

the land of socialism
was a hell on earth.

The Moscow Trials,
which had just begun,

made for an even darker picture.

For the writer, they were
comparable to the trials

the Nazis brought
against Communists

after the Reichstag fire.

Despite this
terrible realization,

Gide and all his friends
asked the following question:

Should it be published?

Was it the right time?

Most of his entourage
recommended he put it off.

The book would be
used against Spain,

where Fascists and
Communists were facing off.

One final argument:

Hitler's victory and
the threat of fascism

made supporting the
USSR a moral obligation.

It was the only country
capable of standing up

to Germany's military might.

Gide was ambivalent,

so he sent the writer
Pierre Herbart to Spain

with instructions to show Andre
Malraux proofs of the book.

[light footsteps]

[light dramatic music]

Herbart landed in Barcelona
before rejoining Albacete,

where Malraux was stationed.

A strange atmosphere
permeated the city,

a mixture of anxiety
and excitement.

The population was awaiting
the Battle of Madrid.

[light playful music]

In a cafe in Albacete,

surrounded by International
Brigade volunteers

who had been arriving
from all over Europe,

and military advisors
sent by Moscow,

Malraux read the proofs
of Andre Gide's book.

[suspenseful music]

[people talking]

He had reached his verdict
before the last page.

The work could prove
harmful to the Soviets,

who had armed Spain.

It must not be published.

Herbert rushed home to Paris,
but he arrived too late.

On the morning of
November the 5th,

after making his final
corrections to the proofs

and without waiting
for Malraux's opinion,

Gide had sent them
to his publisher.

[gentle playful music]

Moscow launched its
first counterstrike.

"Pravda" informed its readers
that, during his journey,

the great writer Andre Gide
had seduced a young man

who was subsequently
deported to Siberia.

In Germany, the
Nazis made the writer

of the white knight of the
anti-Communist struggle.

In France, the Communist
press had a field day,

while the Right celebrated.

Shame and despair.

[gentle music]

The reactions were never tepid,

no matter what side
they came from.

With "Return from the USSR,"

Gide, who was neither a
surrealist nor a militant,

nor a politician, became
one of the first writers

to question the true nature
of the Soviet regime.

Six months and more than
150,000 copies later,

Gide published "Afterthoughts
on My Return from the USSR."

He had resumed writing
after the Moscow Trial.

In his first book, he had
allowed himself a few overtures.

In "Afterthoughts," he
closed all the doors.

"The USSR is not what we
had hoped it would be,

what it promised to be, what
it still strives to appear.

It has betrayed
all of our hopes.

If we cannot resign ourselves
to losing them altogether,

We must place them elsewhere."

[rapid gunfire]

Photographers,
journalists and writers

arrived in Spain from around
the world to bear witness.

They shadowed fighters
around Madrid,

which was being
bombarded day and night.

[people yelling]

Robert Capa and
Gerda were there.

George Orwell also
joined the fray.

Others fought with their pens,

including Klaus Mann
and his sister Erika,

Pablo Neruda and Anna Seghers.

Capa and Gerda often
went to visit Hemingway

in the war-torn Casa Del
Campo near the university.

Sent to Spain by an American
newspaper syndicate,

Hemingway became
the highest paid

war correspondent in history,

and an extraordinary symbol
for the besieged Republic.

He also met Dutch
filmmaker Joris Ivens,

whose film "The Spanish Earth"

Hemingway would write
the narration for.

[people shouting]

[horn blows]

By that time, Gerda
was signing photos

under her own
pseudonym, Gerda Taro.

She was lively, cheerful,
and magnificently brave.

All the war reporters
she frequented were
in love with her.

And she played games with them.

She also played games with
Capa, and it made him miserable.

While he went tracking
down war's many faces,

the one that haunted him most

belonged to the woman he loved.

They spent time in
Barcelona and in Bilbao,

and in the mountains
between Almeria and Grenada.

Nimble and quick,

he got as close as
possible to the battlefield

thanks to his 35
millimeter camera

and he revolutionized
war photography.

Meanwhile, despite
his best efforts,

she loved him less
than he hoped.

Photography brought them closer.

"Ce soir," Aragon's newspaper,

published their photo spreads

along with "Vu," "Regards,"
and "Life" magazine.

They were sometimes signed
Capa, sometimes Capa and Taro.

But when Gerda asked
for her independence,

Robert had no
choice but to agree.

In February 1937, after
Malaga fell to the fascists,

the last two planes
of the Espana Squadron

rechristened the Andre
Malraux Squadron,

took off to protect
villagers fleeing

before Franco's columns.

[airplane roaring]

The first aircraft was forced
to make an emergency landing.

The second was ambushed by
a pack of Italian fighters.

[rapid gunfire]

[loud crash]

[airplane roaring]

[loud crash]

[gentle music]

The Andre Malraux
Squadron was no more.

What was Picasso doing

while his country was
being ravaged by war?

He had made a permanent
home in the studio

at the Rue des Grands Augustins.

The artist led a quiet life.

He received his
dealers and his models,

his friends and mistresses.

[woman giggling]

Close friends were allowed
into the master bedroom,

where he would linger as late
as possible lounging in bed,

opening the mail and
reading the morning papers.

[lively 30s music]

[dog barks]

He would fill his coat
pockets with stones,

chestnuts, lighters,
buttons and pencils

scavenged along the streets
and wharves of Paris.

Then he would go home to work

until the arrival of Dora Maar,

who lived only a
short walk away.

[lively 30s music]

Picasso was obviously
moved by the drama

tearing his country apart.

He was extremely generous
with other Spanish artists,

Catalonians in particular,
who came to him for help.

[door bell ringing]

The Republican government
commissioned Picasso

to create a work for
the Spanish pavilion

at the Exposition
Universelle of 1937.

The painter agreed,
but lacked inspiration.

Paul Eluard had spoken to
him a great deal about Spain,

describing the atrocities
committed by Franco

against the civilian
populations there.

On two copper plates,
Picasso engraved 14 drawings

which he entitled "Sueno
y Mentira de Franco"

or "The Dream and
Lie of Franco."

But this hardly qualified
as a finished artwork.

[light dramatic music]

On April the 26th, 1937,
everything changed.

On April the 26th, 1937,

a plane appeared in
the sky over Guernica,

a small town in
the Basque country.

It was a German Heinkel
of the Condor Legion.

At half past four
in the afternoon,

the plane dropped
its payload of bombs.

[airplane engine roaring]

The Heinkel returned later,
this time with friends.

The squadron
destroyed the village

one neighborhood at a time,

along with all the
surrounding farms

within a 10-kilometer radius.

The Luftwaffe had used Guernica

to conduct its first
experiment in total war,

bombing primary targets and
strafing secondary ones.

Four hours of terror and 50
tons of explosives later,

more than 1,000
civilians were dead.

[light dramatic music]

The village was of no
particular strategic importance.

Franco's objective

was to demoralize the
civilian population.

Meanwhile, Germany
and the Condor Legion,

the artisans of the massacre,

wanted to test new weaponry
for the war to come.

Read all about it!

This mass murder sparked
a wave of outrage

throughout the world.

[melancholy music]

Four days after the
bombing of Guernica,

Aragon's Communist
daily "Ce soir"

published photos of the
massacre on the front page.

Picasso saw the newspaper.

[gentle music]

It triggered something in him.

[paper crinkling]

On May the 1st,
Picasso set to work.

[page turning]

[pencil scribbling]

He made the first studies

of what would become 100
studies for the work,

all photographed by Dora Maar.

[pencil scribbling]

[page turning]

They represented panicked
people, mauled and screaming.

[paper crinkling]

Drawing upon drawing
fell to the floor.

Picasso tried to introduce
a few touches of color,

but eventually gave up
and chose black and white.

[ominous music]

Picasso remained in a
kind of creative frenzy

for the next several days,

adding to the mountain of
sketches and failed attempts.

On May the 9th, a first
composition appeared on paper.

[upbeat music]

[blade sawing]

On the 11th, he
hung a giant canvas

on the wall of the workshop,

angling it slightly so
that it fit vertically.

Perched on a ladder,

he equipped himself with
long-handled brushes.

He began to paint.

[upbeat music]

By early June, the
work was completed.

[camera clicks]

[people talking]

On July the 12th, 1937,
"Guernica" was exhibited

in the Spanish pavilion of
the Exposition Universelle.

The public found the work
upsetting and disorienting.

Many considered the
painting abstruse.

The Republicans were baffled.

The Communists were only
moderately appreciative.

But the artist
couldn't care less.

Once the work was
finished and exhibited,

he agreed to let it
tour around the world

on the condition
that any revenue

would be donated
to the Republic.

And he decided never
to return to Spain

so long as freedom
had not been restored.

[gentle bright music]

Then, letting his
defenders and detractors

cross swords without him, he
climbed into his Hispano-Suiza

and drove Dora Maar,
Paul Eluard and Nusch

back down to Mougins
for the summer,

forgetting all about
the bombing of Bilbao.

[woman joyfully screaming]

[loud explosion]

[rapid gunfire]

[man yells]

In July 1937,

while Capa returned to Paris
to sell the couple's photos,

Gerda was covering a
vast Republican offensive

launched in the direction
of the city of Brunete,

northeast of Madrid.

[loud explosions]

Gerda wanted her photos
to prove to the world

that non-intervention was a myth

and that the German
and Italian troops

were solidly
supporting fascists.

[rapid gunfire]

[bomb screeching]

[loud explosions]

Through her viewfinder,

the photographer captured
the glare of bombs,

the mortal dance of airplanes,

and the sight of men
falling beneath bullets.

She also documented the slow
agony of the Republican troops.

[gentle music]

[rapid gunfire]

[loud explosion]

[foreboding music]

On July the 25th,

Gerda stood by the side
of a road to Madrid.

She was supposed
to send her photos

before returning to Paris the
following day to join Capa.

Gerda waved down a passing car.

There were wounded
in the backseat,

so the young photographer
jumped onto the footboard.

The driver pulled away.

Some way down the
road, a tank appeared.

The car swerved out of the way,

but the tank swiped
Gerda's side.

[melancholy music]

She was brought to
an American hospital,

where she was operated
on that very night.

She asked that Capa and the
staff of "Ce soir" be informed.

[melancholy music]

[faint heart beating]

She died the
following day at dawn.

She was 27 years old.

[steam hissing]

Three days later, at eight
o'clock in the morning,

Gerda's flower-bedecked coffin

approached the
Austerlitz station.

Robert Capa watched
the approaching train.

[steam hisses]

Soon after, he fled to Amsterdam

to mourn his great
love in solitude.

On Christmas Eve 1938,

the fascists launched
their final offensive

against the North
of the country.

After their triumph at Ebro,

the fascists traveled up the
coastline towards Barcelona.

[gentle playful music]

The Republicans had to get out

before the French border closed.

[dog barking]

Thousands of them took
to the roads on foot

or in broken-down,
overloaded trucks.

An official motorcade crossed
Barcelona for Le Perthus

transporting works by
Goya, Velasquez and Titian

that the government
was sending to Geneva.

[door slams]

Josette Clotis and Malraux
climbed into one of these cars.

At their feet lay
a cardboard box

and some bags containing
the last reels of a film.

It was a movie Malraux
had been shooting

for the Republicans in Barcelona

amidst the bombings, power
cuts, and food shortages.

Its purpose was to let
the entire world know

that non-intervention
was a mistake.

But the film wasn't
finished yet.

Only two-thirds of the
scenario had been shot.

They would finish
the vital parts,

shoot pickups and retakes,
in the south of France.

They would edit in
studios near Paris.

[marching music]

[horse neighs]

On January the 28th, 1939,

Andre Malraux and Josette
crossed the French border

at Le Perthus along
with 140,000 refugees

who would see the
last of their hopes

die in the French camps.

[gentle music]

[people talking]

On February the 10th,

Franco's troops sealed
the entire border.

On the 27th, France
and Great Britain

recognized the Franco regime.

Madrid fell on March the 28th.

On April the 1st, 1939, the
war against Spain ended.

[dramatic music]

World War II was about to begin.

[gentle playful music]