All language subtitles for Loving Vincent.2017.720p.24fps-english

He's always
out for trouble, that one.

That's for my father.

Shows over.

What's going on here then?

Sir.

Was that young
Armand I saw you fighting with?

Aye sir.

Over what?

Over crazy red, that painter
guy he used to know.

Really?

He dropped that, sir.

I'll take it in.

At ease, soldier.

Causing trouble again I see.

You dropped your letter outside.

It's not my letter.

It's Vincent's.

It's to Theo Van Gogh.

That's Vincent's
brother, isn't it?

Yeah, Vincent left it behind.

His old landlord Geno was having
a clear out and found it.

So he gave it to my
father and father told me

I have to deliver it.

Like it's my business.

My job is to bash metal into
shape not Deliver letters.

Help yourself why don't you?

Well he doesn't
need it, does he?

I don't see the point in
delivering a dead man's letter.

Your father just wants
to pay his respects.

What for?

What did that nobody
ever do for us?

Making my family hated
when my old man refused

to sign that petition.

To throw him out of the town-

- I signed it.

And, that's well and
good, he was mad.

He wasn't.

He was an interesting man.

Things only got strange
when that friend of his

Gauguin came.

Vincent was all enthusiastic
for his yellow house

to become this
hostel for painters.

And, Gauguin would
be the master.

Where's the chair'?

Yeah, perfect.

But, when he finally came,

they quickly went from
firm friends to being

at each other's throats.

No, no, no you can't go.

No, you can't go.

Calm down, Vincent.

Beverly.

Hello Vincent.

I brought you a gift.

Have you been fighting?

Take good care of it.

Oh sweet.

Are you alright?

Interesting man?

That's not how I remember him.

That nutcase has
cut off his ear.

Your dad sewing
it back on is he?

No, he's helping.

Well that figures
one drunk and crazy

helping another.

Go on say it!

Say it again.

The trial's next week.

Did not
think there were any left

not after him losing.

Oh they're
back, crawling back in.

Evening
gents, have you seen my son?

Ah Mr. Roulin, yes
you'll find him inside.

He's meant to
be on a train to Paris.

He don't look like
he's planning on going anywhere

right now.

We'll soon see about that.

He's in trouble.

The boy looks for
it.

Evening Joseph.

Why can't You just post it?

I did, the letter
got returned as undeliverable.

Well if your postal
service can't find him,

what makes you think I can?

Just use your initiative son.

An important man like
Mr. Theo Van Gogh

ask around.

But, what do I
say when I find him?

It's customary to start
with I'm sorry for your loss.

Let's got you sobered up.

I can't go it's too late.

It's a nice night.

You're to convey
deepest condolences

from myself, your mother,
and your brother.

Oh, and don't forget
Little Marcel.

She was his friend too.

She was 10 months old.

Babes are like animals son.

They can know the heart of a
man just by the size of 'em.

No, they can't.

They're less fickle
than grown-ups.

Just look at Geno.

He takes Vincent's money
with a smile for a whole year

and then signs a
petition condemning him.

Hey, mind you say that
Geno had the letter

for two years.

I don't want Mr. Theo thinking
that we been sitting on it.

Tell him how Geno
didn't even bother

handing it over to
me until he heard

that Vincent had...

Killed himself?

Why do you find that
so hard to believe?

You saw what happened here.

He had a breakdown.

It happens to people.

If they're weak.

Live longer, you'll see.

Life can even bring
down the strong.

After the ear, nobody would
even give him a chance.

Even kids were tormenting him.

Get out of here!

Go on, get out of here!

We are the kings.

I call it weak
letting kids chase him

into the nuthouse.

And his neighbors, and
the police, and the mayor,

and the whole town!

Against an ill man!

He even checked himself into
Saint Remy to get better

and so he did.

He got discharged, cured.

It doesn't mean he
stayed cured, does it?

I feel absolutely calm
and in a normal state.

This is what he writes me
six weeks before he's dead.

How does a man go from
being absolutely calm

to being suicidal in six weeks?

It's sad, I get that.

But, what good will
delivering that letter do now?

They were very close.

Vincent would write
his brother every day.

I know I'm the one who
collected the letters.

If it were me, I'd want it.

If it was you, heavens
forbid, if you had died

and there was a letter out
there that you had sent to me,

I'd want it.

Wouldn't you want
it if it was me?

Whoa, lunatic!

We could go to the Park.

Yeah, but
It's probably still muddy.

I heard you were
Vincent's paint supplier.

So I thought you
might know Theo.

We need a drink I think.

It's brandy.

Do take a seat.

He wasn't at the
address we've got.

The guy there said
you might know.

I'm afraid you'll
never deliver that Letter

to Theo Van Gogh.

Oh, I see.

Well how come?

Two hearts, one mind
that's what Vincent told me.

Maybe that was
the case after all

because after Vincent
died, Theo went

into sharp decline.

Can I get you something my love?

He'd been poorly before,

but Vincent's death
destroyed him.

He had actually been
with him a whole day

at the end, but Vincent
insisted they use the time

to discuss life not death.

And, no suicide note either,
so it stayed a mystery.

And, Theo 'just keep asking why'?

Six months after we buried
Vincent, Theo was dead loo.

Wow, the two of them.

So how did Vincent die?

He shot himself in
the fields above Auvers

by his easel doing what he
loved painting to the end.

Do you know why?

No.

Theo thought his unhappiness
went right back to childhood.

He tried so hard to
fit into his family.

But, he never succeeded in this.

Vincent told me he was the
oldest but Not The first.

There was another Vincent,
a stillborn older brother:.

He thought that boy
was the perfect Vincent

that he could never measure
up to in his mother's eyes.

He struggled to be what
they wanted him to be.

He joined his uncle's
art dealership

and was thrown out in disgrace.

He tried for his father's
profession, the church,

but the pastor exams
were too hard for him,

so he took a job as
a lowly missionary.

He managed to get
sacked even from that.

Yet another dead end.

But, Theo says he
believes in him

and that if Vincent
will fight for himself,

he will fight alongside him.

And, that was it.

Vincent picks up a brush
for the first time at 28,

and with Theo's support,
there is no stopping him.

So what happened then?

Paris happened.

He came here of course.

They all do.

Everyone does.

Monet, Toulouse, Seingnac,
Bernard, Manet, everybody

because everything that
happens in art happens here.

And, where do they
all buy their paints?

Pare Tanguy's of course.

Waitress a drink.

Make it pure.

Cheers.

We'll see if it's pure.

We'll keep that, thank you.

Pure is purer.

We must Be fine,
to the buyer an ego

like no other I grant you.

But, a weekend painter.

Look at him always drawing.

What is it you were
saying on entry?

Which way up is it?

Grow up Henri.

Lei me finish
it in a minute for him.

Oh I forgot You can't.

You're being vile.

The vile doth deny.

For many artists,
Paris is a final destination

but not for him.

It was a stopover to learn
what he needed to learn,

and then he was off in
search of his own path.

You've done it.

It Was in his sleep.

It's the kindest thing.

I saw him once
more after two years.

He was calmer, more assured.

Take good care.

And, I thought this is a man
whose story will end well.

His star finally rising,
his revolution won.

So think how shocking
it was to be standing

over Vincent's coffin
just six weeks later.

So sad.

For many he died
a martyr for art,

but for me, it seems odd.

Why?

In only eight
years, he had traveled

from amateur to an artist
of influence, unbelievable.

Monet declared him
the shining star

of the Independent
Artist's Fair.

And, he was cured
according to his doctor,

Dr. Gachet who had looked
after Vincent in Auvers.

I met him at the funeral.

There were just a few
artists from Paris and him.

I could've thought he
was Vincent's brother.

He was the one who
made the speech,

and he cried all
the way through it.

And, an hour later he was
running around taking Vincent's

best paintings off the
wall as if they were his.

And, they were, his fee,
for treating Vincent.

It seemed odd that the doctor
had Theo's full confidence.

I understand he's still
close to the Van Gogh family.

Maybe you should ask
him why Vincent did it.

It's my father who
wanted to know why.

I just wanted to deliver
this letter for him.

The Van Gogh's are
only ghosts in Paris now.

I'm afraid you're
going to have to take

this letter back to your
father with my condolences.

Dear Father,
looks like I'm continuing

my journey.

I need to find a new recipient
as unfortunately Theo

is dead.

There is this doctor who
I believe is the person

to entrust the letter lo.

So, I'm going to Auvers.

Make some excuse to my boss.

Morning mam.

Yes.

I'm here
to see Dr. Gachel.

Really?

Do you happen to
have an appointment?

No.

I have a letter from
Vincent Van Gogh,

a friend of my
father's from home.

Do you now?

You know he's
actually passed away?

Yes.

The doctor's in Paris.

He won't be back till tomorrow.

I'll make sure the
doctor gets the letter.

I'd rather deliver it in person.

I want to ask the
doctor about Vincent.

Well I can tell you about him.

He was evil.

Is that a medical opinion?

I could tell at first glance
it would end in trouble.

He had these,

Hello?

Hello mam.

Bewildered eyes
in which there was

something insane, something
which you dare not look.

Just straight through at the
back in the garden actually.

Well nothing has been the
same since he came here.

I'll get you a message.

Tell me when it's convenient
for the doctor to see you

where are you in residence?

Where did Vincent reside?

Oh at the Ravoux Inn.

Well you can find me there.

No, you don't
Want to stay there.

It's a hole.

Doctor booked him
somewhere proper.

But, probably suited
him better in a hole.

Well still that's
where you can send word.

You're not gonna stir
things up again are you?

I've had quite enough
weeping over that nutcase

in this household.

(rain pattering}.

You looking for something?

Looking for the owner.

Speaking to her.

You're the owner'?

Well my parents are, but
they're visiting me auntie,

so I guess for the next two
days I'm the proprietress.

That's a fine dress.

Suitable attire
for a proprietress.

I don't get lo
wear it that often

when my father's hers.

Always got errands for ma.

Well that's life.

Fancy something?

I won't say no to a hot coffee.

So what brings you lo Auvers?

A friend of my father's
Vincent Van Gogh.

We just found out
he killed himself.

He stayed here.

I know.

Were you here when it happened?

It was so dreadful.

I sewed the tenants
dinner at seven.

And, he wasn't there.

He came later though.

But, something was very wrong.

Mr. Vincent?

Vincent, are you alright sir?

My father went after him.

Vincent?

What's happened Vincent?

Are you alright?

Oh my God!

What have you done?

I tried to kill myself.

And Dr.
Gachet was called.

He didn't even say
one word to Vincent.

The two of them just
looked at each other

like two angry wolves.

And, Vincent's lying on this bed

and a bulletin his belly.

He's crying out in pain
asking when someone

would remove it, and Dr.
Gachet, an ex military doctor,

I mean he should know
how to remove a bullet.

He does nothing!

He just decided the case
was hopeless and left.

The next morning rumors
about Vincent had spread

all over town.

And, at eight o'clock,
Gendarme Rigaumon

comes knocking.

What are you doing?

Can't you leave
the man in peace?

Can't you see he's not Well?

I'm just being thorough,
Mr. Ravoux, that's all.

Where's the gun?

No idea.

No idea.

My father sent him away.

He said Rigaumon
is the last person

a dying man should have to see.

Mr. Theo came in the
afternoon, and he comes in

yelling, "What happened?"

"How?"

That was the terrible thing
is that no one really knew.

And, then, you know,
it was normal and calm.

And, you know I honestly thought.

It was all gonna lo he fine.

If only I could've
been one of them.

But, as the
night came, a fever in him

rose, and he was getting weaker.

And, about half past one,
Theo comes downstairs.

And, we all knew
that is was over,

and Vincent was dead.

What do you think happened?

Did you see it coming?

He was happy here.

I honestly thought He was.

You know Dr. Gachet tried to
gel him to say somewhere else?

But, no.

He liked our place.

No, you're going
to ruin your dress.

Well you're light.

You'll get messy.

Do you want a room?

It depends on the cost?

Come on you.

How much is the room?

It depends on the room.

Another foreigner.

He liked us, and we liked him.

He was a nice, quiet man.

Sure.

What you didn't like him?

It's not that I-

- He could do unusual things
because he was painting,

but otherwise he was normal.

Unusual how?

On his first day, I
remember because it was

a day like today.

This big storm broke, and
everyone's rushing for shelter.

And, I saw him.

He's just standing there
in the rain, in his suit.

And, I thought, you know,
must be first day excitement.

But, no he was always like that.

Always painting day in, day
out no matter what the weather.

I heard he was
close to the doctor.

What Dr. Gachet?

No, I wouldn't have said that.

He kept rather to himself.

He was definitely
close to his brother

judging by the
amount of letters.

I know my dad was his postman.

So you know.

I was wondering when he
slept painting all day,

writing these long
letters, always reading

these fat hooks.

I guess you could say
he was well organized.

Vincent?

Yeah, you could set
your watch by him.

Painting from eight until five.

You'd think he was going
off to a regular job.

He went all over, Chaponval,
the fields, the woods,

the river.

He really liked the river.

Speak to the boatman,

Watch your step.

He'll tell you.

Oh dear.

I'm in.

Enjoy yourselves ladies.

Thank you so much.

Bye.

Armand Roulin friend of
the late Vincent Van Gogh.

Pleasure.

I heard he liked to
hang around the river.

Vincent, yeah.

Yeah, he used to come down here.

Even before dawn to catch
some special kind of light.

Now I don't know much
about light catching,

but I know you can set your
eyes on a lot of life down here

if you catch my drift?

Good lo know.

He didn't talk so much.

Mostly just sat around
watching, sometimes painting.

And, this one time
it was just us,

me fishing, him painting.

Now it wasn't as
peaceful as it sounds.

He made all sorts of
noises while he painted

puffing like a steam engine.

And, then suddenly
it was all silent,

and he looked so happy
that This dirty crow

was coming close.

He didn't seem to care that
it ran off with his lunch.

And, I thought to myself
how lonely is this guy

that even a thieving crow
brightens up his day?

Later that summer, he would
hang around these rich boys

who threw big boating parties.

They always came with girls,
unruly ones if you know

what I mean?

Hey!

Yeah we could
do with a bit of money.

Well is it paid?

Vincent seems shy around them.

Come on.

He never did have
much luck with women.

You think?

And, then he comes here
with the Gachet girl.

I saw her pretty in a
porcelain sort of way.

That's her, a real quiet type.

I've been working
in (his village

since before the
Gachefs moved here,

and I never got to
speak a word with her.

Yet her and Vincent, they
were chatting in that way,

you know, like speaking
to each other was

the most exciting thing ever.

All I could see
was just your foot.

God knows what she saw in him.

Must've been twice her
age, and next to her,

he looked like a tramp.

What, you think there
was something going on?

They said they
were here to paint,

but they took a boat,
couples often do.

But, I will tell you this.

Vincent, he looked
like he was all right.

Then he comes here with
a girl who I reckon

was out of his league,
and the next thing I hear

he's killed himself.

Maybe you should talk to her.

I'm not sure their
housekeeper would let me.

That one.

Spends her afternoons
at the church.

She's some kind of warden there.

She certainly wards me off.

Here you must be thirsty.

On the house.

How nice you are?

Won't your dad mind?

He's not here to mind.

I'll tell you what
I'll have this one

if you let me buy one for you.

I was wondering were Vincent
and Marguerite friends?

The boatman said
they were friendly.

Well that would
explain why she takes

flowers to his grave everyday.

Oh, and it might explain
that big argument

between him and the doctor.

What argument?

More than one person
saw Vincent leave

the doctor's place
slamming the gale so hard

it's a wonder it didn't
come off its hinges.

But, the housekeeper,
she was going round

saying that Dr. Gachel
had stopped Vincent

from seeing his daughter.

Dr. Gachel is crazy
protective over his daughter.

He doesn't want her talking,
where are you going?

To church.

God bless.

Oh glad to see you're honoring
God, not like your friend.

My father's friend.

You know Vincent actually
did his ungodly act

on a Sunday?

That's not the half of it.

I saw him that Day.

I was on my way to church.

Laughing and joking with
those Sacretain boys,

drinking they were
laughing at God,

knowing what he was going
to be doing on God's day.

When I think what he put
the poor doctor through,

marching in with his brother
like they were royally,

like it was his garden,
like they were his guests.

Well his brother might
have been dressed smart,

but it looked like
he'd dropped down dead

before he made it to table.

I could see the fever in
his eyes at first glance.

And, the great artist himself,
always skulking about,

gobbling our food, just
making messes in corners.

Oh well, mustn't keep
our Lord wailing.

I wondered how long it
would take you to come back.

He painted you didn't he?

So why are you here?

Where else would I be?

Oh, I don't know let's see.

Sailing around the
world, catching a thief,

chatting up a pretty girl.

Because I want to do
something for Vincent.

I'm sure there's a
lot you can do for him

now that he's dead.

I heard you take flowers
to his grave everyday.

Isn't that doing
something for Vincent

even though he's dead?

Oh that.

I just do that out of respect.

He was a great artist.

He liked flowers.

Still seems real nice of you.

You must've been friendly.

I wouldn't say so.

He was here to see father.

He was his doctor, and
he became his friend.

It's hardly surprising.

They were both artists.

They liked the same painters.

They understood each other.

When father invited
Vincent's brother

and their family for
Sunday lunch, Vincent joked

about my father was
the third brother.

Cheers everyone.

So you were like
one big family than?

He painted here sometimes.

It was part of the treatment
my father recommended.

But, we didn't socialize.

So when you went to the river,

that wasn't socializing?

The river?

The boatman says you
took a boat together,

said it looked like you
knew each other pretty well.

Well people think they
see all sorts of things

in this village.

Must've been some other girl.

Hold you I barely knew him.

It was father he was here for.

They were like minds.

They agreed on everything.

Everything really?

Ravoux girl said Vincent
and Dr. Gachet argued.

My you really have
been slumming it.

I don't care for village gossip.

She said people saw
Vincent storming out of here

not long before his death,
and your dad was running

after him.

So what?

You think there was some
argument with my father

and that's why Vincent is dead?

You think it's my
father's fault do you?

I didn't say that.

I think it would be
best if you leave now.

Good day.

Thank you.

Busy night?

Not really.

There's your cheese.

And how is your father, Adeline?

He's well, thank you.

Can I get you anything else?

No, I'm fine thank you.

Thank you, no.

Good.

Just busy enough not
to have to speak to me?

Well if I did sit
down for a drink,

I'd be wondering when
you'd be getting up

and running off
somewhere more important.

Funny thing that.

You actually gave me an idea.

The idea to confront
Marguerite Gachet.

Oh so you ran off lo be
with the lady of the manor?

How did that work out for you?

She told me she
didn't know Vincent.

Hadn't barely exchanged a
few formal words with him.

I told you you can't believe
a word the Gachefs say.

I remember when
Vincent moved in.

People were asking him if
he was a relative of Gachet.

Maybe they were
similar on the outside.

This is incredible.

They had the same red hair,

and that same sad
look in his eyes.

I've never seen
anything like it.

But, on the inside,
they were chalk and cheese.

Vincent wasn't
snobbish like Gachet.

He was really polite and kind.

Well hello, Jeuxmaine.

Up you go.

So what shall we draw tonight?

A chicken please.

I might be seeing something.

Okay a chicken.

Skinny legs like you.

Floppy tail please.

Jomaine what are

you doing out of bed?

She's no trouble.

Come on off to bed with you.

She's no trouble.

I want my chicken back.

Marguerite said the
brother came here.

Did you meet him?

No, I heard he came
at Gachefs invitation.

Vincent was always saying
that they might come here.

Always checking if we
had rooms at weekends,

but they never did come.

So did Vincent visit them ever?

No, you know he'd
spend hours on hours

writing those letters
to his brother

when he could've just
hopped on a train.

Oh no, he did go once.

He said his brother's
baby was ill.

But, I don't think the
visit went that well.

. Why not?

The lea towels.

He said that canvasses
were too expensive.

More.

And so now he's only gonna paint

on these old rags.

He painted some pretty
flowers, but I don't think

my father was that pleased.

What has the brother
got to do with lea towels?

I reckon they argued over money

because it was the
brother that bought

all Vincent's painting things.

I know because of the
last letter Vincent sent.

Adeline wait.

The day before
he killed himself.

When he handed it to me,
he said it was urgent.

And, you know I asked if
there was anything wrong.

And, he said he'd run out
of paints and he placed

a big order for some
more 'cause he had lots

of paintings planned.

Don't you think
that's odd to place

an order with his brother
ii money was an issue

between them and then to
kill himself the next day?

It depends, you know,
on how balanced he was.

All seemed fine with him.

I mean something must've
happened pretty suddenly

for him to become unbalanced.

Like what?

I don't know exactly what.

I'm sure it's got something
to do with Gachet.

Do you remember his first
day that I told you about?

This letter's from then.

No, I can't Read
someone else's letter.

If it's open, it's all right.

My dad's
posted me up some money.

I'll open a tab for you,

and you can settle up
when your money arrives.

That's very good of you.

This is where he lived?

And, where he died.

Dear Theo and Jo,

it is really very
beautiful here.

I feel I see the
North all the better

for my trip to the South.

I have settled down
to some canvasses

which I hope will go
some way lo recovering

the pasts of my slay.

Dr. Gachet is eccentric.

I don't Know how he
thinks he can cure me

when he seems at
least as sick as I am.

However, I still
think that what I have

is mostly a malady of the
South, and the the return here

will be enough to
dissipate the whole thing.

The thing is the days seem like,

seem like weeks.

The days seem like weeks to me.

I'll be glad is sometime from
now you were lo come here

one Sunday with your family.

Very hardy handshakes,
your loving Vincent.

What the?

Oy, come here!

Dear
father, I'm still waiting to see

the doctor.

I could've just given the
letter to the housekeeper

or his daughter, but something
happened with Vincent

in that house.

I can tell.

I want to ask the
doctor about it.

I've decided to retrace
the path that Vincent took

with his easel that Day
because what I've been told

doesn't add up.

And, strange things are
happening to me too,

but don't worry, nothing
that I can't handle.

People here are on
edge about Vincent,

about what happened to him.

Everyone has a different story.

Tanguy, the paint
supplier, said that Vincent

shot himself in the
fields, so does the girl

from the inn.

It seems a very long way
for him to have walked

with a mortal would, and
I wonder if he wanted

to kill himself, why didn't
He just pick up the gun

and finish the job?

Did he change his mind?

Did he want to live after all?

No, I can see you.

It was you last
night weren't it?

Oh, not again.

Can I help?

If you could tell me where
to find a funny looking boy

with hair all over the place,
I want to ring his neck.

Oh that'll be my nephew.

I'm sorry.

He's a bit simple.

Please don't pay him any mind.

He's harmless.

He was following me
yesterday and today.

That's not like him.

Did you do something to him?

No, I'm just delivering a letter

for a friend of mine,
Vincent Van Gogh.

The Painter fella, yeah
foreigner, red fellow.

Yeah that's him.

That'll be it then.

That'll be what then?

Here cider'?

Don't mind if I do.

Thatching is thirsty work.

On the day that the
painter fellow was wounded,

we heard a shot
coming from that barn.

And, now my nephew, he
thinks it's haunted.

But, Vincent shot
himself in the fields.

That's what some folks say.

But, I never met a person
who actually saw him there.

The police looked for his
stuff, and they found nothing,

not the gun nor his painting
stuff, nor his paintings.

And, who'd steal
that sort of thing?

So you think he shot
himself here in that barn?

I'm not saying nothing.

We just heard a shot.

Well why didn't
you go in and look?

It could've been anything,
kids shooting rats.

No, it were only the
next day when I heard

that he'd been shot
that I went and looked.

And, there was nothing.

Ii shot himself here, how
come you didn't see his stuff?

That is the question.

It's not that he was in a
state to move it himself,

and why would
anyone else move it?

Oh afternoon Mr. Roulin.

How nice of you to save
me the trip to that place.

Doctor sent me to tell you he
can see you tomorrow morning.

Slop in at any time.

Great, I was just
thinking what you said

about Vincent laughing
around and drinking

with those lads on
the day of his death.

Where was that?

Well it was right
here, exactly here.

Scribbling and scrawling
away he was as always.

So he must've already
had the gun on him then?

Yeah, I guess he must have.

Well he might've had it
amongst his paintings.

Wouldn't want to put
it on display would he?

Where do you think
he got it from?

Ravoux girl said Gachet
was a military man.

Has a gun I guess.

You think he could've
taken it from your place?

- Not unless he
pill: It hack after.

The doctor does have
a gun in his study,

but I dust there
every afternoon.

It's never been elsewhere.

Anyway, everyone knows
it was old Ravoux's gun.

He keeps it under the
counter, little pistol.

And, it's not there anymore.

Well, see you tomorrow.

You were out early.

Long day-

Thirsty work.

And, you've been quenching
that thirst I suppose.

Today I heard mention
of young lads Vincent

would hang around with.

That would be the Sacretains,

but you won't Find them here.

They're in Paris.

They would often joke around
with Vincent especially Rene.

Rene could also take
it a little far.

Poor Vincent, he nearly fainted.

But, then Rene would buy
him a drink to apologize.

He was like that always
picking up the tab,

always buying people drinks.

I was also told that Vincent
got the gun from your place.

What?

Who told you that?

We don't even have a gun.

Gachefs housekeeper
told me you did.

No.

Father used to own one
once, but he didn't reckon

he'd need it here in
Auvers, so he sold it.

Before Vincent was shot?

Yes.

We didn't have it
than, and don't you go

spreading that
squawking hen's gossip.

This came for you.

It says that you've
lost your job.

So you're not Good for credit.

Room for one more at your fire?

You look like
you've had a day of it.

The Ravoux girl deprived
me of my roof for the night.

Here that'll warm you.

Now that's something different.

My own recipe.

So why did the Ravoux
girl get the hump'!

Cause I said that maybe
Vincent got the gun from them.

No, no old Ravoux
sold his gun lo Rene.

Everyone knows that.

He wanted it for a
stupid cowboy costume.

He was running around
waving it in people's faces

pretending he was
in the Wild West.

Good customers, but bad sorts
especially the younger one.

Vincent was being gentlemanly
towards the girls,

and Rene barges in, "Girls,
don't Be bothering with him."

"He cut off his dick
as well as his ear."

And, his ear.

Let's go.

These ones are mine.

Gaston, come on.

I'd have smacked the
run! If he said that to me.

So why didn't you then?

It wasn't my business.

It wasn't my fight.

So why didn't you
make it your fight?

If I said what I
wanted to every lad,

I'd have no customers.

Won't you just.

I could've used that.

You could've said
something to the boys.

Couldn't you see they
were bullying him?

I told you Vincent
was hanging around them.

If he didn't want to be there,
he could've stood up and left

Maybe he was there because
Rene always picked up the tab.

Or, he just felt lonely and
liked being around young people

who were enjoying themselves.

How is it my business?

No, you've had enough.

Very friendly of
you, turning your hack

just like with Vincent.

What did you do for him?

I don't hear you
telling me that.

Were you such a great friend?

I never said I was.

There you go.

Thank you.

Hiya.

Who's he?

Who's he think he is?

Probably some bloody gypsy.

Seem like
a Nancy boy in that jacket.

Who's he looking at?

Head down, regular circus.

Look who else is coming in.

Where?

Behind you.

Let's have some fun then.

Are you coming?

You are an idiot Sean.

Who gave birth to that?

Watch me nanny boy's coming.

What's he want then?

. Hey Nancy boy.

Maybe he wants to join me.

My head.

I didn't do that.

No, it were me
that landed a punch.

I don't remember.

I think I was drunk.

Oh you think.

If I caused any damage-

- You damaged the pride of
a couple of local laughs

that's all.

I hear you were
defending the honor

of our village idiot.

Yeah I think they
were picking on him.

Well they paid their dues.

But, you didn't
need to start on me

when I arrived to
restore the peace.

I'm sorry.

You're the lad that was
asking about the Dutch guy

that shot himself.

Yeah he's a friend of my dad's.

You know my dad's a postmaster.

Strange company
for a respectable man

like a postmaster to keep.

Not really.

Vincent generated more
letters than a town,

so it was sort of a
business relationship.

So what business
do you have here'!

I have an appointment
with Dr. Gachet

to talk about Vincent.

I had me eye on him
right from the start.

Don't worry it'll be all right.

I'll have a little look around.

So when I come in on
Monday morning to hear

he'd shot himself,
I'm not surprised.

You're here.

How is Mr. Vincent, any better?

But, he told me
what I wanted to know.

It's a bad do,
all this you know.

That he tried to kill himself

and not to let anyone
else gel the blame.

Like I'd blame anyone
else for his crime.

I think we should
leave the man in peace.

Even caused me trouble
after he were dead.

Dr. Mazery kept pestering
me to file his report

even though he knew I
already had Gachefs.

Who's Dr. Maury'?

Dr. Malay?

' Yes?

I would never send
a report normally.

I mean this was Gachefs case.

Then I read that the
patient died two days later

in his room.

So I felt that I
should for the record.

I asked the patient
how it happened?

He said he had shot himself.

But, I knew he hadn't.

I could tell by his wound.

With suicides, people
shoot themselves

in the head.

Either in the temple
or through the mouth.

If not, then through the heart,
but not through the stomach.

I was suspicious.

The bullet wound,
look, stand up.

Stand up.

Come on, let me show you.

There you are back and forth.

That's it, now back like that.

Now you're down there like that,

and now look.

You see there.

You see that's too low an angle.

For what?

He would've had to
have fired the gun

with his outstretched toe.

Go on you outstretch your toe.

Just stretch your toe out.

You see.

And, in any case if you fire
a bullet point blank range,

it'll go through the body.

Not always, but in
all probability.

So if it didn't go
through, then the gun

must've been further back.

Like there, bang!

You see?

I see.

Most likely he was shot.

If it isn't the
Provence pugilist.

Should I be scared?

I thought you didn't
go in for village gossip.

I don't.

That's why one employs servants.

They get it for you.

Did you also hear
that your friendly local

gendarme put me
up for the night?

So now you're up here
contemplating your future.

No actually I was
thinking how come you lied

if you've got nothing to hide?

What makes you
think I have and duty

to tell you the truth.

Maybe I just thought my life
was none of your business.

I wasn't asking about your life.

I was asking about
Vincent's death.

You thought that his death
and my life were linked?

Yes, but don't
think that anymore.

The truth is I'm not important.

He wasn't some
lovelorn teenager.

I know.

Did you know he was a genius?

No, I can't Say that I did.

Well I did.

It's not finished yet.

Alright, I'll see it later.

Thank you.

Finished?

He's still working.

And, so did my father.

All his life he has tried
so hard to be an artist.

And, then this gruff awkward
man without any proper training

who'd only been painting a
few years comes barging in

and rushes off in a couple
of hours what poor father

couldn't dream of
painting in two lifetimes.

My dad would lock himself
away and copy them for hours.

Father told me I was
distracting Vincent

from important work.

Asked if I really
wanted to be responsible

for preventing masterpieces
from being born?

And, of course I didn't.

So I started lo not
be in or not he well

when Vincent called.

Soon after that,
they had an argument,

a terrible row.

It wasn't about me,
but maybe my withdrawal

had soured things.

The next time my father saw him,

he had a bullet in his belly.

Are you satisfied now?

You can blame me.

You can blame my father.

You're not to blame.

You've not part in it.

He was shot by some boys.

Some boy named Rene Sacretain.

I'm serious.

I can see that.

Rene': An idiot for sure,
but he's not a murderer.

An idiot who
drank, who had a gun,

who walked around
all summer with it

waving it in people's
faces, who bullied Vincent,

who was seen with Vincent
on the day of his death,

and his stuff disappears.

He didn't disappear it himself,
so there must have been

someone else.

It must've been.

So lonely Vincent
resorts to hanging around

with drunken teenagers,
and he gets shot.

Or, he shoots himself in
despair at his lonely life.

The result is the same.

Either way, instead
he could've been

at our place painting if
I'd behaved differently,

if him and my father
hadn't argued.

But, don't you care
that some bastard

may have gotten
away with murder?

You want to know so
much about his death,

but what do you
know of his life?

I know that he
tried hard to prove

he was good for something.

Yes, he did.

That's why I take
flowers to his grave.

That's all I can do for him now.

He would appreciate the
delicate beauty of their bloom

even each blade of
their grassy stems.

No detail of life was too
small or too humble for him.

He appreciated and loved it all.

Let you out of jail did they?

On account of my
winning personality.

It's like trying to out
disgrace your friend Vincent.

I'm working on it.

You must be the young man
who's been waiting to see me.

Armand Roulin.

Son of the great Joseph
Roulin, giant of the South

with Dostoevsky' Soul.

What?

That's what Vincent
called your father.

He told me all about him.

He did?

Yes, and your mother,

whose lullaby

could sooth even the souls
of Icelandic fisherman.

Come now, Armand of the
Roulin clan, take a seat,

be welcome.

Louise, drinks.

What'll you have, wine?

No, thank you.

I had my fill last night.

Ah, tea then.

I have just the recipe.

Louise, you know
the one, chop-chop.

So young man, I hear
you've been making

something oi a name for
yourself these past two days.

Believe me that
wasn't my intention.

I just wanted to
deliver a letter.

From a dead man lo a
dead man I understand.

Yeah, well I didn't
Know that when I set out.

A guy I met in Paris
thought you might have

the address for Theo's widow.

Seems right the family
should have the letter.

That's what my father reckons.

Your father sounds
like a responsible man.

I sympathize.

I have to look after the
health of great artists.

It is a burden.

They are not peaceful souls.

I understand because
I am an artist too.

That is why they trust me.

And, Vincent (rusted you too?

Yes, he did.

Does it mailer now?

I was hoping you'd tell ma.

Tell you what exactly?

Vincent wrote to my father
six weeks before he died,

and he said he fell
absolutely calm

and in a normal slate.

So I came here hoping
you could explain

how he went from absolutely
calm and in a normal state

to suicidal.

But, I reckon I know
the answer to that.

Oh do you now?

You're familiar with
melancholia are you?

I wouldn't say so.

Sufferers can change
from feeling life

is a wondrous joy to
being stuck in a pit

of despair within six hours.

So think what changes are
possible within six weeks.

But, I don't reckon that's it.

Ravoux girl said
he was happy here.

She's obviously qualified
to make such a diagnosis.

She saw him everyday,
said he was calm

and seemed normal.

Maybe he did seem that
way, maybe he was that way

in the beginning.

There he is.

He's arrived.

Leaving the asylum had
given him fresh hope.

He didn't want for
much just his work

from day to day.

It's good to meet you.

Find a little friendship.

I've heard so much about you.

All will be well.

And, did he find
a little friendship?

He had it from me.

His friend Tanguy said
his star was finally rising.

And, it was.

With each new canvass, he
painted a shining star.

But, all of those stars were
surrounded by unfathomable,

empty loneliness.

You said he had your friendship
and his brother's love.

I mean it seems like
everything was all right.

Underneath he was deeply
afraid of the future.

To the baby, yes.

Of his own and Theo's.

Time to meet you little boy.

I don't think he's
responding to your medicine.

He knew that Theo had spent

a small fortune on him.

The knowledge of this
tore into Vincent.

Excuse me.

Theo could've
had a house like this

with all the money he'd spent
on Vincent over the years.

But, instead what did he have
for his new wife and baby'!

Rooms full of paintings
that no one wanted to buy.

Vincent's biggest fear
was that the burden of him

would bring down his brother.

So Vincent worried
a little about money.

It's not like they
were starving is it?

Listen I don't reckon
he committed suicide.

I reckon he was shot.

Have you been talking to Mazery?

You heard his tale of how
the angle of the bullet

was all wrong, that nobody shoots
themselves in the stomach?

Well yeah.

What's to stop Vincent from
doing something improbable?

I mean cutting a piece of
your ear off and making

a present of it to a whore
is hardly probable now is it?

But, there was this
lad Rene who had a gun,

who bullied Vincent and was
seen with him on that day.

I was at Vincent's
bedside on that day,

and he said he had shot
himself and told me

not to blame anyone.

Not to blame anyone?

Doesn't that sound
to you like he was

trying to cover for someone?

He wanted to die I know that.

Why would he say
there's no one to blame

unless he thought
someone might be blamed?

He said that because
there was someone, me.

I think he

took his life to
try and save Theo

because of something I'd said.

You see,

I said something to
Vincent that as his doctor

I should never have said.

But, he'd made me so angry.

You know nothing about art!

He called me an artistic fraud.

And, you are lying
especially to yourself.

In a way I am.

You are an artistic fraud.

I desperately wanted
to be an artist,

but my father made
me study medicine,

and I failed to stand up to him.

Vincent said I was living a lie

whilst he lived and
struggled for the truth.

So I thought in the heat of
our argument, okay Vincent

I'll give you your
precious truth.

I knew that Theo was in the
tertiary stages of syphilis,

any stress financial,
emotional or physical

could kill him.

I said to Vincent,
"What do you think

the burden of
worrying about you

is doing to your brother?"

It's quite likely killing him.

That is the price of
your truth, the price

of your path as an artist.

Is it worth it?

That stopped the argument dead.

Vincent?

Vincent!

Vincent come back!

Vincent!

Two weeks later, I am
sitting at his bedside,

and he is dying.

The only words he said, "Maybe
it is better for everyone."

Here a letter for a letter.

Theo's widow is collecting
all his letters.

She wants to publish them.

I'll make sure she gets that.

In reading through
Vincent's letters to Theo,

she came across this one.

It moved her so much,
she copied it out

and sent it to me.

Why are you giving it to me?

It is from when
he was starting out

on his journey as an artist.

Take it for your journey.

Thank you Dr. Gachet.

Armand Roulin, good luck.

Thanks a lot.

No bother sir.

Who am
I in the eyes of most people?

A nobody, a non entity,
an unpleasant person.

Someone who has not,
and never will have

any position in society.

In short, the lowest of the low.

Well then even if that
were all absolutely true,

then one day I will
have to show by my work

what this nobody, this non
entity has in his heart.

I looked for you at the bar.

Any luck on the job front?

Nothing.

Lieutenant Milliet
says I should enlist.

What for?

Well I'm good at
fighting, aren't I?

Roulin's have always been that.

The trick is to know
what you're fighting for.

Would you look at it?

There's a whole
other world up there.

Something we get to gaze upon
but don't fully understand.

It reminds me of him.

It feels wrong all
that life snuffed out

because of a stupid accident.

I'm still wondering why he
would cover for those boys.

What I'm wondering is if people

will appreciate what he did.

You were looking for me?

This arrived from
Holland this morning.

It's from Jo, Theo's widow.

It turns out Gachel
did send the letter.

And, she was terribly
touched by what you did.

She thought it only right
that you should know

what was in it, so she
copied it out for us.

She sends her, she
said something about-

- Alright, give it here.

In the life of the painter,

death may perhaps not be
the most difficult thing.

For myself, I declare I
don't know anything about it.

But, the sight of the stars
always makes me dream.

Why I say to myself should
those spots of light

in the firmament be
inaccessible to us?

Maybe we can take
death to go to a star

and to die peacefully of old
age would be to go there

on foot.

For the moment, I'm
going to go to bed

because it's late, and I wish
you goodnight and good luck

with a handshake,
your loving Vincent.