All language subtitles for The Artist s01e03 Fraudulent Fuckery.eng

- [static]
- ?

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Marian Henry: Dear Reader.

?

Marian: In order to understand
how the very thought

of a casual killing
might have permeated

our home in the country,

it is first very important
to understand

the times that we lived in.

?

? ["When The Saints Go Marching In"] ?

?

Harry Thaw: Miss, Miss.

Goddamn, it's hot.

It feels hot in here.

- You feel it?
- Huh?

- It's hot.
- Oh, no, my darling.

I call it kind of brisk.

- Are you catching something?
- God damn it!

Please don't fucking contradict
me like that.

That's Bill Thaw's son.

The loony one.

I was merely clarifying,
which I should not have done,

and that-that was wrong of me.

It was wicked, Harry,
and I'm sorry for that.

Just a simple clarification.

Is that it?

That's fabulous.

You fucking cunt!

I was merely clarifying,
my love.

No, no, you're a good girl.

You're a good fucking girl.

Will somebody
please take my fucking coat?

It's bloody boiling in here.

God damn it!

- Come on.- Harry.

- What?
- What about Mother?

We can't leave her here.

Harry: Have her meet us
at the fucking table.

Okay, well, she needs help,
Harry.

- Harry: Then fucking help her.- Okay.

Suck my cock!

?

?

Jesus!

What the fuck?

?

What the fuck
are you looking at?

Marian: Evelyn Nesbit.

Nothing could prepare
her for the fame and notoriety

that would befall her
a mere hour later.

- Evelyn Nesbit:-Harry.
- Harry: Huh?

I said this is wonderful.

I've never seen a real life
camel before?

No, it's a big fucking camel,
too.

Evelyn: Yeah.

Marian: From an early age,
she was a model.

If you can call it that.

?

Can you pull your shirt
off your shoulder, darling?

- Lower, my pet.
- Lower.

Could you hike up your dress?

Hike your skirt up a bit.

Could you bend over
and touch your toes?

?

Marian: The poor girl
was a workhorse,

but it wasn't enough
to support both Evelyn

and her widowed mother.

You know, I'd love to perform like this someday.

The fuck did you just say?

Marian: She would marry Harry
thaw out of desperation,

not love.

He would put a roof over her
head and in return-

- Harry.
- Hello, darling.

Evelyn: Hi.
You're not meant to be here.

Harry: Meant to be here?

- Evelyn: No, no.
- You're my wife.

Marian:-she had promised
her virginity.

Evelyn: No! Stop it!
Harry, Harry!

Not yet, not yet.

- I'm not ready.
- You're not ready?

No, no.

What do you mean,
you're not ready?

- Evelyn: I'm not ready.
- You're my wife.

Evelyn: I know, I'm sorry.
Harry-

- Look, let me just-
- No, Harry! Get off me!

Harry: God damn it!

[Harry rages]

Evelyn: I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Stop it, stop it,Harry, stop it!

You're scaring me,
stop it!

[Evelyn's frightened breaths]

Evelyn: Harry, stop!

Harry: I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

[Harry sputters and cries]

- It's okay.
- Harry: Forgive me, I'm sorry.

I forgive you, my love.

- Soon. Soon.
- Say it.

- Say you're mine. - I'm yours... soon.

- [Harry moans]
- Good night.

Marian: The only problem
Evelyn Nesbit was not a virgin.

Not even close.

?

Marian: And Harry Thaw
was not her first benefactor.

Stanford White: Good evening, Evelyn, my dear.

Good evening, Stanford.

?

Excuse me, who the fuck are you?

?

Mr. White.

Stanford White.

Marian: The architect
of Madison Square Garden.

So?

- Excuse me?
- I said, �so?�

I understood the word.

I'm sincerely confused
by the context.

The context is escaping you.

- Is that what you-
- Forgive me?

Um, Harry,
I didn't introduce you.

This is-this is Stanford White.

He's a-he's a very good,
um-an old friend of mine

and my mother's.

He knew me since I was a child,
and we're very close friends.

Yeah, you said that already.

You're repeating yourself now.

- Did I?
- Yeah.

- Oh.
- And who might you be?

I'm her husband.

Yeah, that's right.

I'm a fucking husband.

- Yes.
- Harry, please.

Stanford: Yes, you said that.

Seems you're repeating yourself.

Oh, you're a smart guy.

- Well, enjoy the evening.
- Harry, he's not.

Harry, come on, I love you.

Let's go home.

Let's spend the night together.

?

Evelyn: Let's go home.

Stanford [whispering]: I plucked
your wife's three cherries

on a swing.

Enjoy the show. Good evening.

You look absolutely ravishing.

?

- You lied to me.
- Evelyn: No I didn't, no.

- You fucking lied to me?
- No, I didn't.

Yeah, you fucking did.

You fucking lied to me.

That's what you fucking did.

Evelyn: Harry!

Harry!

He had her on a fucking swing.

- Evelyn: Don't, Harry!
- No, no, no, I-

He had her every which way
on a velvet fucking swing.

- Evelyn: No!
- [gunshot]

[screaming and commotion]

- [gunshot] - [screams]

[gunshot]

What?

[woman sobs]

Harry: Shut up!

Eat your fucking shrimp.

Dance.

Fucking dance.

Play some music.

?

Harry: That's good.

Fucking right.

?

?

Marian: I'm sure
you're wondering

what this murder
has to do with me.

Well, everything.

? [theme] ?

?

?

?

?

?

?

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Marian: I appreciate that, Norman.

You know, for-for trusting me
on this one.

There will be other deals,
I promise.

Harry sent a note.

What? Harry what?

What? Harry?

- Yeah.
- From prison?

Norman: Yeah.

He wants us to look after Evelyn
and, you know, until the trial.

Oh, God.

You didn't agree to this
preposterous notion, did you?

He sent a note.

He sent a note
on Tombs Prison letterhead.

So, you know, send a note back
on Henry letterhead.

Marian, Marian, she's coming,

and there's nothing
we can do to stop her.

He's been a good friend.

Financially speaking.

We owe him.

We owe him. We owe him. We owe him.

Why?

Why does everything
always have to be

so drab and transactional?

Well, because life is drab
and transactional, Marian.

It's what you do with it.

- Mr. Henry.
- Norman: Yes?

- Maid: Mr. Henry.
- Yes, yes.

Maid: The artist, sir.

He's in your study.

I know, that's why I told him to meet me.

Yes, but the thing is...

- [crashing] - ?

Jesus!

What in the name of God?

What are you doing?

- I make room.
- Room?

- Edgar Degas: Yes.
- There's room.

There's plenty of
fucking room all over the house.

Real art needs space.
Real art needs to breathe.

Real art needs light.

Take it easy.

Leave it, leave it!

This isn't real art.

This is an investment.

An investment that will live down in the basement

in a vault in a crate.

You're a madman.

[ringing]

Your turn now, Celia.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

I just sat down to steam
my cooter.

Norman: I'll deduct
from your pay for this.

You shall not.

The poodles
will more than cover it.

I don't know
who you think you are.

Honestly, I don't.

Edgar: Where is my money,
Mr. Henry?

Where is my money?

I shall pay you your money once
I have the piece appraised

to insure it's in the style
and liking to the value

that we had agreed on.

And then I shall deduct
for damages,

and then I'll write you
a promissory note.

No, I will not take
a promissory note.

- You will.
- I will not.

I take cash.

[speaks French] Cash!

- ? - [clatter]

Norman: How do I know
you're not simply a fraud?

- Pardon?
- Norman: You heard me.

You do not utter words as such
in the presence of a man

that has dedicated
his entire life

to holding a mirror
up to society with his brush.

Yada, yada, yada.

It's a little bit, uh, breezy up
there on that soapbox?

[chuckles]

Oh, my heavenly father.

- What in the name-- Leave it alone.

The bones of an artist
will live forever,

whilst the prick of a rich man
like you shall fade to dust.

And you know why, Mr. Henry?

Because the rich have no soul.

?

How does it feel to have
contributed nothing of value

in this world?

Nothing.

Want to know
how I made my money?

- I don't care.
- Norman: You should.

Because it's why you're here,
is it not?

I pick up the pieces.

Paper, rags, copper,
lead, steel.

I'm a junk man.

I'm a middleman.
I'm the glue.

I pick up their crap.

I feed it back into the furnace.

I turn it around,

and I shove it right back
down their fucking throats.

?

And there's an art to that.

?

That's why you're here, my friend.

?

My contemporaries, they wanted
the biggest business,

the flashiest.

Not me.

I just want to be everywhere.

I want to be everywhere
all at once, and I am.

I'm everywhere,
all at once, in business,

and especially in my home.

I see how she looks at you.

My wife.

[sputters]

Don't make me nervous.

You should never intend
to make me nervous.

[gasps]

Or I won't pay you
for your painting.

If you do not pay me, I will
slit your throat in your sleep.

Maid: Mr. Henry.

Mr. Henry, sir,
the company has arrived.

The new company.

Okay, tell Mrs. Henry,
where they are.

Evelyn: I mean,
it was all horrid.

I mean, have you ever seen
a man's brains

just splayed out
across his tiramisu?

Norman: Terrible accident.

This was no accident.

I mean, God,
do you read the papers?

It's just sensationalism
at its finest, darling.

Yes, sensationalism
at its finest.

We know-

No, Harry walked right
across the room,

and he just shot him in front
of the whole ballroom.

It's not that
it was a shock to me,

because I am the first to say
that Harry belongs in a ward.

I was his wife, okay?

But it wasn't the craziest part.

Do we need to know?

Do you know what Harry said before he shot him

in front of everyone, in front
of a room full of status?

You do not need
to re-enact this, darling.

Harry held the gun out to here
and he points it at me,

and then he points it back
to Stanford,

and he says,
�You ruined her, Stanford.

You ruined her
in every which way.�

He said that.

He said, �You ruined her in
every which way.�

I mean, as if I need the whole city knowing

that I had been
with Stanford White

in every which way.

It wasn't much of a surprise
to the city, darling.

- Shh.
- You know, he raped me.

It was a raping.

I mean, look, in the
conventional sense of the word.

What's the unconventional?

Evelyn: I didn't mean
to be with him

for anything more
than just money.

You can even ask Mummy.

She was right there in the room
when it happened.

Isn't that right, Mummy?

Norman: She was in-

- Evelyn: Yes.
- The room?

Evelyn: And I would
wake up aching

from the waist down
every morning.

And so eventually,
I just thought-

It's okay.

You're safe now,

and you can stay here
as long as you like.

What's your name?

Mrs. Henry.

Have you ever been
taken up the asshole

while you were sleeping,
Mrs. Henry?

?

- Have you? - No, ma'am.

We don't sleep in the same bed,
Evelyn.

- That's a shame.
- Apparently not.

?

Why did you marry him if you're
not gonna sleep with him?

Oh, well, for love.

Anyway, you just-just makeyourself
comfortable, you know?

You can stay
as long as you like.

I won't be here long.

Just until they need me
for the trial.

You hear they're calling
it �The Crime of the Century.�

You know, it kind of makes mea lead billing.

?

[laughs]

What?

You don't think
I can pull it off?

Pull what off?

I mean, I get a really handsome
cash bonus

if Harry's acquitted
of the charges.

?

- Cash bonus?- Yes.

- From whom?
- Well, from Harry.

Are you daft?

He's your husband daft?

Darling, he shot Stanford White
in cold blood

right in front of you.

I wouldn't get my hopes
upfor a cash bonus if I were you.

Oh, Mrs. Henry.

This is not murder
in cold blood.

This is �The Crime
of the Century.�

Marian: I knew the moment
I laid eyes on her

that Evelyn Nesbit
was going to be the star

she had always dreamt
of being.

I also knew it would
be for all the wrong reasons.

[insects chirp]

Cook: Service.

Service.

Service.

[cook laughs]

?

Norman: Raise a glass?

- [chatter from inside]
- ?

?

They say Harry's to be released
in January.

I'm not sure.

Marian: My husband insisted
on a fine dinner for Evelyn

and her lobotomized
mother that evening.

[giggles]

Marian: It was a dinnerwe could not afford,

and he insisted
I join the lot of them.

Eat your fucking shrimp.

- This is..?
- Beef, sir.

I don't see the beef.Where?

He's certifiably insane,
you know?

Marian: A pointless charad
if I've ever been a part of on.

I mean, he can't be held
accountable for what he did.

That is what the doctors say.

Perhaps you're love struck.

Mrs. Henry,
how would I know love?

I'm only 16.

Anyone here know a chap
by the name of Mark Twain?

You know, I'm to be fit for
a new wardrobe before the trial.

This man, Charles Frederick
Worth, is doing it.

And he is-

Everyone knows a chap
by the name of Mark Twain.

American author.

What have you got against
Americans?

- He's a designer.
- Wrong.

- Oh.
- He's an inventor now.

Evelyn: Well, the lawyers
have a plan to get Harry off,

which involves making
me some sort of star,

which, I don't know how
I could do that.

He invented
the female shoulder strap.

- Huh?
- Female shoulder strap.

He's made it adjustable.

Most inventors, they're artists.

Most funded innovators are artists.

What kind of star, I'm not sure.

Edgar: I hope you're not using
my money to fund his invention.

Evelyn: But I'm preparing myself
for the sycophants nonetheless.

Norman: That's not how
investments work.

Your money's safe
with me until-

Until the appraiser comes.
When will he come?

Norman: He's scheduled.
Coming shortly.

- Edgar: Ah.
- Norman: Enjoy your beef.

- Merci.
- On the house.

[sighs]

?

Do you know something?

I do believe this may bethe last evening

that I'm in a room
with real people,

without ulterior agendas
and such.

?

Well.

[ranting in French]

[ranting in French]

Maid: Lily, would you mind going elsewhere

with that fit you're throwing

Or at least give it
to us in English

so we can be in on it, yeah?

- You know what I mean?
- Lilith: This is enough.

I will speak with him.

Don't do anything that might see
you on the streets, Lily.

She don't know the missus like we do.

- Edgar: Ms. Nesbit.
- Evelyn: Mm?

What is it you do?

Evelyn: Well, I'm a dancer and a singer.

I'm also an actress.

I was formerly a model,
but that's a past life,

you know, with and without-

Your work.

What is your work?

I...

Well, I'm standing testimony
from my husband, Harry.

- Ah.
- Your question was pointed, no?

- [Edgar chuckles] - I don't appreciate the tone.

Huh [laughs].

?

Edgar: Let us toast to
the mostmeaningful performance

of young Miss Nesbit's life.

May it be fleeting,
immediate and daring, ah?

It must be the most
convincing performance

that the world has ever seen.

?

Well, I believe I'm simply
reading from a script,

but thank you.

Edgar: The world expects
for you to tell the truth,

and they want you to.

To put up a mirror up
to society,

to speak from the soul,

however uncomfortable
that may be.

They want to know you.

- [exhales] - ?

I, um...

I don't believe I know me.

Exactly!

That is art.

The exploration, the searching.

A self-loathing.

?

Edgar: Mr. Henry,
how you pay a lot of money

for the real life, oui?

Some of us, we have to live it.

?

We have to live it.

?

?

Bring me my fucking money.

?

?

[footsteps depart]

Norman: Fucking French,
am I right?

Evelyn: Yes.

He's been paid.

He wasn't serious
about the money bit,

because he's been paid.

You know, Harry, he used to
withhold my allowance

until I let him, you know,
lick my inner thighs

while I was chained
to the bedpost.

?

And that illustrious note,
I shall retire to my quarters.

Good evening, ladies.

Marian, good evening.

?

Alrighty then.

News reel commentator:
Artists, painters galore.

This just in:
a new gang's in town,

and they're called
The Impressionists.

Making a ruckus across the pon,

these painters
are bucking tradition

and painting
outside of the studio.

Caf�s, landscapes, ballerinas.

Get your Impressionist painting
today.

Shipping to America.

Available on the Mauretania
while room remains.

- ?
- [film reel clicks]

?

Why did you lie, Mr. Henry?

I didn't lie.

I don't lie.

Edgar: You told them that I'd been paid.

You told them
that it was a silly joke.

Mrs. Henry, you don't think that
they're gonna embarrass me

when I get up there
for the trial?

Because, admittedly,
all this talk of truth

makes me nervous.

- ?
- [unsteady breathing]

Have you not heard the rumors, Mr. Henry?

I do not take kindly
to swindlers.

What the fuck you're talking
about?

You're just a fucking painter.

Edgar: Painter, yes.

For you, perhaps,
the grim reaper.

[Norman gags]

[gasps and sputters]

Oh!

[Edgar whistles]

[Norman groans]

Young woman,
you have done nothing wrong,

and you have nothing
to be embarrassed about.

You don't actually believe that,
do you?

Norman: Help me!

- Help me, help me!
- Excuse me.

Norman: Help me!

- Somebody help me!
- [Marian gasps]

Marian: Norman!
Are you all right?

- Norman: Marian!
- Norman?

- I think you were right. - What about what?

I think
he's some sort of murderer.

I think he's Jack the fucking Ripper.

I think we just got to give him
the money.

Get him out of here, please.

Marian: No, Norman,
you just said

that you'd already paid him.

I did, I did, I said that.

I said that.

- I'm sorry I said that.
- Marian: Sh, sh, shh.

Norman, you have to go back
to your room.

You have to go to the safe.

You have to prepare the bills.

- We will handle this together.
- I don't think...

I don't think
we have the bills.

?

How many do you think you have,Norman?

- I don't know.
- Marian: You don't know?

Well, you had better check,Norman.

You had better check right now,
because you commissioned

a painting that has alreadybeen completed.

Well, the appraiser
hasn't been here yet.

Fuck the appraiser.

It's a fucking portrait
of a fucking poodle.

You fucking fuck!

Norman: Marian!

Don't leave me Marian, please.

- ?
- [Norman whimpers]

?

Marian: Artist?

I know you can hear me.

[muttering in French]

I certainly know
that you're capable

of following instructions.

Don't you dare
walk away from me.

You accosted my husband
under the Henry roof.

Under the Henry roof!

Your husband.

Your husband, he owes me money.

So what?

Loads of people owe money.

I just-that's no excuse
for this kind of degradation.

Look, my husband
is a very sensitive man,

and he really tries his best.

And I, for one, believe that-that he has

been misunderstood
in this particular instance.

No, no, no.

There's been no
misunderstanding.

I am to be paid
for the work that I have done,

for the work
that has been completed,

for the work
that-that sits in the corner

facing the wall in shame,

because it has not been
appraised as such.

?

[Norman whimpers and cries]

[Norman shrieks and whimpers]

For fuck's sake!

Don't scare me like that.

- ?
- [Norman cries]

[indecipherable babbling]

[cries]

You don't know what I've
been through this evening.

Do not lecture me
on the burdens of your life.

I'm sick of hearing
about you and catering to you.

You made promises to me first.

- Norman: Shut up!
- You made promises.

Norman: Shut up, shut up!

Lilith: You made promises to me.

?

What are you talking about?

You ever pull
a stunt like that again

and you will find
yourself bludgeoned?

Edgar: Hm.

- In what sense?
- In the physical sense, sir.

I am a trained boxer.

[chuckles]

You are a woman.

Yes, I am.

I am a woman.

?

- I expected more from you.- Norman: Yeah.

Most do.

Do not treat me like an imbecile
up here in a linen pantry,

while the stench
of your new orphan-

Shh-ah!

Fuck!

You're talking
about Evelyn Nesbit?

You think I'd be stupid enough
to sleep with Evelyn Nesbit?

You see what her husband
did to the last one?

You know what I see before me?

What?

I see a failed,
miserable, greedy old artist,

who's so lost and blind

that he can only follow
the scent of money.

And, well, actually,
that's absolutely fine by me.

But just don't bring your ideas
of truth and purpose

into this house.

That's just dangerous.

And it's just-it's bullshit.

You will send me back to Paris
to star inLes Saisons

orAcapella,or I will...

- I will-
- What?

You will what?

I found you on the streets.

?

Norman: You're nothing more
than a pickpocket.

?

Who can spend.

?

I...

?

Oh god, I'm so sorry, Lily.

I don't know what to do.

?

[Norman whimpers and cries]

?-darling Clementine

? I've been lost
and gone forever ?

?

?

?

?

Oh my dear, dear girl.

?

Let us say our prayers.

?

Evelyn: I'm grateful tonight for our bed,

and for the food we eat
and the clothes we wear.

Mother: Mm hmm.

?

I'm sorry, Lily.

I'm so sorry.

?

But really, I am grateful for
the stage,

because one day I will be
a great big stage actress,

and everyone
will love me, Mother.

They will all love me.

?

?

Marian: Look,
we don't want any trouble.

My husband is a man of his word,

and as are the men
who vouch for him.

And at this very moment,
he-he's in his room.

He's in our safe.
He's counting out your bills.

?

?

Edgar: He is?

Yes, he's counting out
your bills and-

- ?
- [weeping]

He has the bills?

[slams on piano keys]

Yes, yes, yes, he has the bills.

[cries]

I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know.

Well, if we all
survive the night,

you may just very well be
able to claim those bills

as your own.

[Norman prays in Yiddish]

[Norman prays in Yiddish]

- ? - [sighs]

Oh, that is a great relief.

?

?

Lily.

?

What are you doing?

Writing my sonata.

?

?

Edgar: Huge relief, yes.

?

?

?

[mother humming
"Rock-a-bye baby"]

[mother humming]

[mother humming]

[mother humming]

[mother humming]

[mother humming]

Lilith Even if we don't have
Paris, we still have this.

?

?

You know, my sister,
um, is an artist.

Yeah, she's a sculptor, or-I don't know,

something in the physical form.

And, um

No, no, no.

Lily, pericoloso. Lily!

Lily, basta!

She goes to shows
across the country,

and, you know, that's a really
very, very different world

from this, and I guess
I'm just trying to say that...

No, no, no, no!

Well, I understand the life
of a struggling artist.

I guess that's what
I'm trying to say.

The embarrassing life
of Edgar Degas, huh?

- Say no more.
- Marain: No.

Shouldn't be ashamed.

[window track squeaks]

You value your art above everything else,

and I admire that,

and I think there's something
rather romantic about it.

What did you say?

Lilith: I am Joan D'Arc!

[Yiddish prayer]

[Lilith and Norman yelling from outside]

I said, �The embarrassing life�"
I think.

Lilith: I am Joan D'Arc!

- No, no, no, the other bit. - ?

Marian: Could it have been tru
that the man painting my poodls

was, in fact, one of the most
acclaimed Impressionists

of all time?

Oui.

Marian: The very
same Impressionist

who would sit
shoulder to shoulder

with the likes of Renoir,
Pissarro and Monet.

- [woman speaking French] - [glass shatters]

?

?

You're Edgar Degas.

- Edgar: Oui.
- [Marian gasps]

- ?
- Marian: Oh.

?

What have they done to you?

The world is cruel to old men.

Marian: And yet everything
woud change the moment I touched hi.

?

?

?

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