All language subtitles for genius.s02e09.picasso.chapter.nine.1080p.web.dl.hevc.x265.rmteam_track3_[eng]

Previously on Genius...

DIAGHILEV:
Olga Khokhlova.

Russian aristocracy.

She's looking for a duke
or a viscount.

I cannot let you in.
We are not married.

JACOB: She certainly has you
under her spell.

You're a married man
with a reputation to protect.

JACOB:
You spend your days

with your snob of a wife,
pretending you are

an aristocrat.

At least I have not
abandoned my friends.

I am the only Madame Picasso!

-(yells)
-Olga!

PICASSO: Someday, I'm going to
paint the perfect painting.

PAULO: I had no idea
you were so talented.

FRANCOISE:
Kahnweiler's been asking me

for new works to show,
and I just

-don't have the time anymore.
-PICASSO: Go on.

Play that game you played
the night we first met.

Even when you missed,
you didn't flinch.

MARIE-THERESE: She is so happy
when you are here, Pablo.

Do you think Maya wants
to watch me cuddling Paloma?

FRANCOISE:
Maya loves Paloma.

And how long do you plan
to keep me waiting?

It didn't occur to me
that you were interested

-in an old man.
-You don't seem old to me.

-Clear!
-DORA: I don't understand why

you let these women hang on.

-I should leave you.
-Don't be ridiculous.

Nobody leaves Picasso!

*

*

(exhales)

(quiet gasping)

(panting)

(woman singing in French)

(groans)

ELUARD: "My hand in your hair
will sow the stars

"of sapphire, pearl, ruby,

"that you never be deaf
to my desire,

my oasis and my gourd
whence I aspire."

Your writing is exquisite.

It's not me.

It's Baudelaire.

You're absurdly romantic, Paul.

And you, you don't have

a romantic bone in your body,
do you?

Hmm? To you, it's just...
photography, politics and sex.

Sex is just a game.

Lately, it bores the hell
out of me.

All these great men
you've bedded,

not one of them has managed

-to get his claws into you?
-God, no.

I get tired of them
in a matter of weeks.

(laughs)

You've never been in love.

Paul, I can barely
tolerate romantic.

I absolutely despise
sentimental.

Dora, uh, love is the most
creative force in nature.

What you need is an amour fou.

A mad love? No, thank you.

It's what inspires
true artists like us.

You don't
have to explain it to me.

I understand the Surrealist
dogma as well as anyone.

A magical love
born of a chance encounter.

Fate.

Frankly, I think
it's a ridiculous superstition.

You are a goddess, Dora.

What you need... is a god.

Do you have someone in mind?

*

(roars)

(laughter)

(Picasso growls)

Oh! Gorillas are chasing us!

-Yeah. (laughing)
-(Paulo laughing)

-Pablo, stop that.
-What? What?

You're embarrassing yourself.
Have you no sense of decorum?

André, Paul!

(laughs)

You've come just in time.

Ah, oh, uh, André Breton
and, uh, Paul Eluard.

My wife, Olga... Khokhlova.

It seems you forgot
to mention to your friends

that this is a formal occasion.

(scoffs) For God's sake, Olga,
who cares how they are dressed?

If you want to entertain adults,

you should learn
to act like one.

Let's go to my studio.

It's the only place
she can't torture me.

BRETON:
"I am not a gentleman."

That is exactly why
you are our hero, Pablo.

It's intuitive,

automatic.

Emanations from
the subconscious.

Charged with eroticism,

born from the chance
juxtaposition of images.

This painting is everything
I've been writing about.

It's a masterpiece
of Surrealism.

André has just finished
a collection of essays:

Surrealism and Painting.

We would be honored
if you would endorse it.

Maybe come to our next meeting?

I don't want to be labeled.

Surrealist, Cubist, Modernist.

What is next? Communist?

The Communists
are going to remake the world.

(chuckles)

Besides...

my work lately
is nothing but anger.

Bitterness.

No one wants to see that,
really.

That's absurd.

You're the most important
painter in France.

(scoffs) I'm stuck
in a golden cage with a woman

who cares more about chandeliers
and Persian carpets

than anything I will ever paint.

I should have known better
than to ever get married.

I need someone new.

*

*

(clears throat)

-Excuse me, mademoiselle.
-Uh, yes?

(laughs) Um, you have
an extraordinary face.

I beg your pardon?

It was fate that you walked by.

What do you mean?

I want to paint you.

Oh, I-I don't think so,
monsieur.

(chuckles)

I am Picasso.

I'm sorry, what?

-You have never heard of me?
-No.

Should I have?

Um...

Recognize him?

You're famous.

In certain circles.

Now will you let me paint you?

Why would you want to?

My sisters call me
an ugly duck.

Oh, that's absurd.

They are jealous.

Let me show you how I see you.

My studio is just two blocks
from here.

Only for a few minutes.

I have to get home.

(chuckles) Your...

your sisters couldn't be
more wrong about you.

You are magnificent.

Like a Roman statue.

That's a very special book.

Go ahead. Take a look at it.

120 Days of Sodom
by Marquis de Sade.

Have you heard of it?

Marquis de Sade destroyed
old-fashioned literature

the same way
I have destroyed the rules

of old masters of painting.

"Bestowing heartfelt kisses
on my mouth and eyes, he said,

"'If I am to teach you
what to do

in order to give me
pleasure...'"

"'...'tis only fair
that at the same time

I teach you what to do
in order to receive it.'"

"He then...

"placed his hand upon my..."

I don't want to make you late.

Why don't you come back
and see me again tomorrow.

-I still live with my mother.
-Hmm.

She... she might not approve.

But you seem like
an intelligent girl.

I am sure you can think
of something to tell her.

If you want to come,

be here at 3:00
in the afternoon.

Precisely.

Where have you been?

I'm sorry.

I went shopping,
and then I, um...

I played tennis with Nicoline.

In those clothes?

Tell me the truth.

-I met someone.
-Who?

An artist.
He wants to do my portrait.

He's probably trying
to get you into bed.

For all you know, he's not
really an artist at all.

Oh, I-I think he's
quite successful, actually.

His name is Picasso.

Picasso?

By all means, let him paint you.

(knock on door)

You're late.

I'm sorry, Monsieur Picasso.

And you must call me Pablo.

I promise to always
be on time... Pablo.

Don't be shy.
You can look at it again.

Read out loud.

Um...

"She had very handsome eyes,
exceedingly fair skin,

and one of the most splendid
and plumpest..."

Are you a virgin?

Yes.

Then I will be your first.

-(chuckles softly)
-Shh. No, no, no.

(clicks tongue)

Don't laugh.

(gasps)

(both sigh)

PICASSO:
It's amour fou.

This girl, Geneviève,

she's so young
and vibrant and...

It's different this time, Paul.

All my romantic adventures

have been ruined by friction
and-and suffering.

Two bodies coiled
in barbed wire, you know,

chafing against each other,
tearing their flesh.

But with this one,
it's been all...

sweetness and honey.

She's a hive without bees.

She must be very good in bed
to elicit such poetry

from the great Picasso.

She makes me feel...

alive.

And Françoise doesn't?

She looks at me like I am old.

Anyway,

-I have a favor to ask you.
-Of course.

-Anything.
-I have to sneak

all the way to Paris
when I want to see her.

I need a place closer.

Saint-Tropez would be perfect.

I'll see what I can do.

-Yes.
-A flat, a house?

A castle?

(Claude and Paloma laughing)

FRANCOISE: Thanks for helping me
watch the children, Kostas.

Well, maybe they should
take naps

-and we could have some sangria.
-Sangria?

You've been spending too much
time with Pablo's nephews.

Actually, I don't like
the way Javier makes it.

No, we do it better in Greece.

Didn't you have
a dissertation to finish?

I could go back
to Paris tomorrow.

All day long,
it's "mama this, mama that."

You need a little adult time.

Oh, I wish I could,
but when Pablo comes home,

I have a third child
to look after.

Where is he anyway?

We barely ever see him
these days.

He's always dashing off
to Paris or Saint-Tropez.

The children miss him.

KOSTAS:
What about you?

You're right, Kostas.

The children need their nap.

And you need
to get on a train.

(chuckles)

(rhythmic knocking on door)

Daniel.

Uh... it's very nice to see you.

I'm sorry, Pablo isn't here.

Well, that's my
good fortune, then.

It gives me some time to see
what you've been working on.

Well, I'm afraid I don't have
anything new to show you.

I've, um, been too busy
with the children.

That's a shame.

I've been getting a marvelous
response to your paintings.

(chuckles)
You're just being kind.

No, not at all.
I sold three pieces this month.

And do you know Janine Charrat?

The choreographer?

She's looking for a designer
for her new ballet in Paris.

I told her you would be perfect.

(stammers)

I've never designed
a set or a costume in my life.

Neither had Pablo
when he did Parade.

She loves your work, Francoise.

God, that sounds like fun.

PICASSO:
It's impossible.

How can you go to Paris
for weeks on end?

W-Who's going to take care
of the children?

Well, they have a father.

You know, I cannot
look after them night and day.

(scoffs)

I wouldn't get a-any work done.

Open the door
before I break it down!

What in God's name do you want?!

You must get dressed.
We're going to be late

for dinner with the Beaumonts.

No, you go without me.
I'm working!

You're always working.

You are never home,
and when you are home,

-you lock yourself in here.
-Well, why wouldn't I?

All you ever do is complain!

Please, Olga,
I'm working. Please.

Don't you ever get tired
of painting me?

Your face, in this light?

How could I ever
get tired of that?

I'm glad you still feel
that way.

Now go and get cleaned up.

I have a surprise for you.

Do you?

I bought us tickets
to see Josephine Baker.

(quietly):
Yeah.

Well, it's a...

it's a popular play.

(sighs)

We might run into someone
who knows Olga, and...

what would I say to them?

So, even after all these years,

this little flat
will be the only place

we can ever be together?

Pablo, when are you
going to divorce her?

You promised me.

(sighs)

You know, I-I would like
nothing better

than to be free from that woman.

But, uh... (sighs)

divorce is very complicated.

I love you.

But for now, we need to
keep things as they are.

If Olga found out about you...

(scoffs)

...she would make life hell.

GENEVIEVE:
It's heaven.

Our own secret little
Shangri-La.

ELUARD: Yes, I thought it was
a rather romantic little flat.

-I'm delighted you like it.
-GENEVIEVE: We love it.

-Thank you so much, Paul.
-I owe you one favor, my friend.

-Oh.
-Monsieur Picasso,

a-a few questions
for my readers, please?

-PICASSO: Not now.
-Who's your pretty friend?

-A new muse, perhaps?
-Get out of here

before I break that thing.

-(door opens, closes)
-(bell jingles)

Ah, Mademoiselle Gilot.
How may I help you?

I've come to collect
Monsieur Picasso's pieces.

I'm sorry, they have not
been fired yet.

But they should be ready
by the time he returns

from Saint-Tropez.

He's in Paris, actually.

Oh, well,
the papers must be mistaken.

Mistaken about what?

I'm sure it's just
silly gossip.

What kind of gossip?

Well, if you must know,
they say he has been seen there

in the company of
a striking young lady.

(sighs) What are these?

-Costumes?
-Mm.

I've accepted the position
with the ballet.

I'm leaving for Paris next week.

But I told you it...
it was not possible.

Well, if you can do
whatever you want, so can I.

Do what I want? Uh-huh.

What are you talking about?

Your new girlfriend.

In Saint-Tropez.

How can you listen
to such ridiculous rumors?

There's no girlfriend.

Don't lie to me, Pablo.

After everything
we've been through,

the one thing
I've always counted on

is that we always
tell each other the truth.

Well, I-I am telling the truth.

And if I was with another woman,
it would be your own fault!

When was the last time
y-you showed me any affection?

That's hard to do
when you're never here.

-Oh, I see.
-Mm.

-You're punishing me.
-No.

No, I'm rewarding myself.

Oh.

For all the sacrifices
I've made to your art

at the expense of my own.

-It's my turn, Pablo.
-Oh, my God.

-You are made of ice.
-(chuckles softly)

How else could a mother
just abandon her children?

I'm not abandoning my children.
I've spoken to Maya.

She's gonna come and watch them.

I'm only going away
for two months.

They can visit me on weekends.

(Picasso mutters)

*

(lock clicking)

Who is she?

You've painted her
over and over again.

(groans softly)

She's nobody, just-just a model.

I won't be made a fool of.

I gave up everything for you:
my career, my country, my body!

I won't have myself and my child
humiliated by some harlot!

Humiliated?

You live like
a Russian princess.

Get rid of her!

(door closes)

Marie-Thérèse.

(sniffles)

What is it?

I know it's complicated,
but we must get married.

But we have discussed this.
You know how difficult that is.

-Especially now. Olga is just...
-Pablo.

I'm pregnant.

(sniffles)

(bell tolling)

(sighs)

Did you tell her it's over?

I want a divorce.

(door closes)

It was a... a wedding gift.

I-I never liked it.
She can have it.

BAILIFF:
I'm told there's a second floor?

Yeah, but that's my studio.
Everything there belongs to me.

Monsieur Picasso,
one half of all possessions

includes any artwork
that you own.

Um, but I painted them.

I'm afraid
the law is quite clear.

(scoffs)

The divorce is off.

So you are getting rid
of the girl?

-No.
-Then what?

I am not gonna let you get away
with half of my life's work!

I see.

God forbid you should lose
any of your precious paintings.

They mean more to you
than people do.

Oh, I know you, Olga.

You would only sell them
to buy shoes and fur coats.

OLGA:
Do what you wish.

But I refuse to be humiliated

when the papers discover
you're having a baby

with your filthy mistress.

-Hmm.
-Paulo and I are moving
to the Hotel California,

at your expense.

I hope you and your new family
are very happy.

Thank you for taking such good
care of me and little Maya.

Of course.

You are my two girls.

Marie-Thérèse.
Marie-Thérèse.

The doctor said it's okay.

It's been two months.

We have plenty of time
while the baby's asleep.

Yes.

Is something wrong?

I haven't painted anything
since I have been living here.

I need to go back to my studio.

I thought
you loved the light here.

Yes, yes, I-I'm...

Yes. But it's, uh...

different now.

It's not me, is it?

Pablo, I...
I still inspire you, don't I?

No, no.

No, no, you-you mean the...
you mean the world to me.

Uh...

It's just, uh...

(sighs)
too many distractions here.

I need to go back to my studio.

I have to.

(sighs)

Hey.

Little Maya, Papa will come
and see you and Mama very soon.

You are an angel, Maya.

How many stories did it take?

(chuckles) Four.

-But they are finally asleep.
-(chuckles)

Well...

I don't know
what I would do without you.

(sighs)

You're a wonderful big sister.

They're wonderful children.

Obviously, Françoise
is a very good mother.

Good mother?

No, we have barely
heard from her.

I'm sure she's quite busy
with the ballet.

Her real responsibilities
are here.

She's taking advantage
of your kindness.

Don't be silly.
I'm glad to help.

I want her to be able
to pursue her work,

just like you do, Papa.

But she can work here.

Nobody's stopping her.

She doesn't have to run off
to Paris to do it.

Instead of complaining about
her, you should be her champion.

She's not like Mama.

She's more independent, and
if you do not treat her better,

you are going to lose her.

(tools whirring, hammering
in distance)

Kostas.

Wh...

Javier told me
you were working here.

Why... didn't you tell me
you were in town?

(chuckles)

I've been busy.

Is it going well?

It is, actually. It's, um...

it's thrilling to work
with so many talented artists.

Well, sounds wonderful.

What are...?

Oh, I thought
we could have some sangria.

You know where
to find sangria in Paris?

-No.
-(laughs)

No, I know a place
with a Chablis I can afford.

FRANCOISE:
Merci.

So...

let me guess.

You left him?

(laughs)

No.

Why would you say that?

It's the only way
I could imagine Pablo...

allowing the mother
of his children

to run off to Paris
without him.

I didn't give him a choice.

Good for you.

I do miss the children though.

I finish work, and...

I go home to a quiet apartment.

If you're lonely,
you can always call me.

(chuckles softly)

Well, we all know
Pablo does...

whatever Pablo wants.

Why can't you do the same?

Heraclitus said
nothing remains still.

Change is the essence
of the universe.

PICASSO:
"All day on his knees,

"before the rag, so dirty,
as it dribbles down.

"Love seated
in a corner of the kitchen.

To amuse herself,
she cuts her nails."

It's, uh...

bold.

Original.

-Just like your paintings.
-(laughs)

You are afraid

to tell me it's dreadful.

You see, I know I am an amateur.

But poetry...

(sighs)

...is the only way
I can express myself lately.

I-I... I haven't painted
in-in months.

I...

Nothing moves me anymore,

not the light,
not Marie-Thérèse, nothing.

You need something new
to inspire you.

Let me guess.

-Another amour fou, huh?
-No.

Actually...

(hisses)

...I was thinking
another artist.

-You know Renoir?
-Of course.

But-but I have always despised
his pretty painting.

Ah, not the father.

The son.

No, he's doing
some very interesting work.

-(camera whirring)
-WOMAN: Merci.

RENOIR:
Cut!

-(bell rings)
-MAN: Cut. Thank you.

Cutting.
That's a cut.

Checking the gate.
Moving on.

RENOIR: Let's print
the last two takes, please.

PICASSO: So this is how
Charlie Chaplin does it.

-RENOIR: Chaplin's a genius.
-Ah.

-I can only hope. (chuckles)
-Jean, is that, uh...

She's Dora Maar,
our set photographer.

Ah, you should meet her, Pablo.
She's fascinating.

Come, I'll introduce you.

Florelle is our lead actress.
Florelle,

-please meet Pablo Picasso.
-Oh.

-(grunts)
-Monsieur Picasso,

you're even more handsome
than your pictures.

PICASSO: (chuckles)
And you are as ravishing

as you are in your films.

(chuckles)
Even dressed as a laundress?

Especially dressed
as a laundress.

(chuckles) Why don't you
introduce me to your friends?

(Florelle chuckles)

That went well.

He's easily distracted,

like a child.

I thought you said he was a god.

You'd think so, too,
if you got to know him.

I would have to meet him first.

And you will.

Just not today, apparently.

Honestly, I can't understand
why you think

we are so well-suited.

ELUARD:
Because, my dear Dora, you are

the two most extraordinary
people I know.

This is absurd, Paul.

Why don't you simply invite us
both to dinner instead of

contriving a chance encounter?

ELUARD:
You know the rules of amour fou.

If it's arranged by you,
it's not exactly fate, is it?

I'm just trying to give fate
a little push.

(Picasso laughs)

DORA:
Well, we tried it your way.

Now we are going to try mine.

("Ménilmontant"
by Django Reinhardt playing)

What are you having?

Whatever you are.
(groans)

ELUARD:
Pernod.

Are you going to show me
your latest poems?

(Picasso chuckles)

PICASSO:
I've had a new idea.

-(knife tapping)
-No punctuation

-and, um...
-What?

Reinventing painting
wasn't enough?

-Now you've got to make...
-(tapping accelerates)

(tapping accelerates further)

(Picasso chuckles)

You don't even flinch.

That is the point.

It's, uh...

hypnotizing.

ELUARD:
Dora!

I didn't see you there.

Pablo,

Dora Maar, the photographer.

Yes, I... I've heard your name.

A surrealist, yes?

ELUARD:
You should see her work.

Intense, provocative.

PICASSO:
Well, if it as daring as she is,

it must be.

Where did you learn that game?

Game?

This is quite serious.

I could lose a finger.

PICASSO:
But, uh, one must sacrifice

for one's art.

Very true.

Perhaps you might be willing
to make a small sacrifice

to my art.

What do you have in mind?

Come to my studio.

You have
a most interesting face.

I want to photograph you.

(laughing)

I will agree to that.

But only if you allow me
to keep your gloves.

I would like a memento

of the day
that fate put you in my path.

*

I have tried my hand
at photography,

but it's-it's not for me.

-Oh, no?
-No.

Too unpredictable.

Not like painting,
where the artist is in control.

Not a slave
to the whims of the sun.

But the sun is similar to paint.

How is that?

At first you feel you must work
within its limitations,

its quirks.

But with practice, you learn
to use those to your advantage.

You feel what it wants from you.

But paint I can touch.

I can move with a brush
or my fingertips.

Mm.

But the sun surprises you,

plays with you.

And film...

...reveals things
that aren't, uh,

obvious to the naked eye.

Maybe you would enjoy it

a bit more

if you gave up some
of your control?

(clicking)

(indistinct conversations)

Françoise.

I wasn't sure you'd come.

How could I miss your debut?

I am your greatest champion.

(applause)

(applause continuing)

Bravo!

(cheering)

Yes.

Bravo. Bravo.

(indistinct conversations)

(chuckles)

How did you get back here?

I, uh, slipped the doorman
five francs.

Yeah, he should be more careful,

because any scoundrel
could just sneak in here.

Your work is stunning,
Françoise.

These are for you.

(chuckles)

Thank you.

I'm s... I'm so sorry,
I have to go.

Pablo is waiting for me.

At least I have one kiss
to remember.

(both laugh)

Oh. Bravo.
(chuckles)

-(sighs)
-I'm sorry I kept you waiting.

I waited two months for you

to finish the ballet.

I don't mind
a few extra minutes.

But it will be wonderful

to have you home again.

Yes, I'm excited
to see the children.

Now you can concentrate
on being a mother again.

Is that the only reason
you want me back home?

No, no, of course not.

I-I only meant that the children
have missed you.

And so have I.

So, um, you know, it has been
a change for all of us,

not having Mama
to look after us.

Well, change is the essence
of the universe, Pablo.

Françoise?

Where are you going?

(knocking)

*

No.

Keep them open.

Look at me.

What's wrong?

Nothing's wrong.

I... realized Paul was right.

He was right that I have never
been in love before.

*

PICASSO:
Dora, I already have a studio.

Not like this.

This place is perfect for you.

Hmm.

A place to start something new.

To forget about Olga
and dinner jackets

and stuffy cocktail parties.

What do you think?

The light is good.

Did you know this building is
the setting for Balzac's story,

Le Chef d'Oeuvre Inconnu?

The one where the protagonist
Frenhofer is striving...

Trying to paint
the perfect painting.

(chuckles)

You're right.

It would be perfect.

Dora...

you know I cannot live with you.

At least not right now.

(laughs)

(sighs)

Pablo, I could
never live with you.

You would drive me mad.

(Picasso chuckles)

(footsteps approaching)

You have come to your senses.

Yes, I have.

I knew you would.

No one understands
you like I do.

Pablo, I'm leaving you.

Don't tell me.

Now you want to do an opera.

I'm not joking.

I can't live with you anymore.

Is there someone else?

Kostas.

(laughs)

(laughing):
My... my nephew's friend?

Is that who you choose
to replace me?

I mean,
he's an amateur philosopher?

The last thing I need
is a replacement for you.

I need to be free

to work and live

the way I want.

I need to learn how to be happy.

I have made some arrangements

for the children to start school
in September in Paris.

-We'll be leaving then.
-Uh, uh, we both know

that you will never do that.

Without me,
what will your life be?

(quietly):
I don't know.

But it will be my own.

Well...

then you will be known

as the f-foolish woman

who... left Picasso.

Yeah.

(door closes)

MADAME RAMIE:
She must be out of her mind.

Those poor children,

being kept from their father.

Yeah.

But I am sure
she won't go through with it.

Here are the pieces
you asked for.

I don't think
you've met my cousin Jacqueline.

No.

It's an honor, Monsieur Picasso.

MADAME RAMIE:
Jacqueline is very handy.

She has been a great help to me.

I'm sure
she could help you, too,

if you do find yourself

needing someone
to cook or clean,

or... anything else
you may want.

Paloma, Paloma.

(kids chatter)

(Françoise speaks indistinctly)

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH