All language subtitles for Surviving.Picasso.1996.720p.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-alfaHD.ENG

Good morning.

Good morning.

Please.

Let's see.

Here.

Cezanne.

A masterpiece.

You like that?

No.

No?

Pointillist.

What? What?

Pointillist.

My version of it.

"Pointillist."

Pointillist.

They are your parents?

No.

No.

Why, do you paint like this?

Why do you paint like this?

Well...

I'm sorry. That's not mine.

That's, my friend braque, George braque.

It's hard to tell the
difference sometimes.

It's all so long ago.

What is it called?

Guitar, bow tie, and fruit bowl.

There's the bow tie...

Good.

But, where is the fruit bowl?

There.

Good.

It is all, fantasy?

All fantasy from up here.

This is also by braque.

Matisse, Henri Matisse.

Matisse.

This...

What is the value
you would put on all this?

It's hard to say.

Unfortunately, nobody wants to
pay me much for any of this.

Why don't you make me a reasonable offer?

My wife would have something to say to me

if I brought home a woman like that

to hang on our wall.

What about you?

No, I think not. No.

Good evening, sir.

Good evening.

Here we are again.

Dora.

Pierre.

My friends.

Friends? Who are they?

They admire you very much.

Of course they do.

Good.

Good. Yes.

Bon soir.

Great pleasure.

Bon soir.

My dear.

Bon soir.

Bosches.

I showed them everything.
Matisse...

Here, boy.

Rousseau, braque, everything.

I showed them some early
drafts of guernica.

Last year they ransacked my house,

and they walked off with my linen
and left my paintings behind.

How insulting.

Preferring my towels and
my sheets to my paintings.

Kazbec! No!

No, no! Bad boy!

How many times do you have to be told?

You know very well what your doctor said.

Begging? I'm ashamed.

Who are your friends, Pierre?

Francoise. Genevieve.

What do you do?

I'm a painter.

Painter? Like me. And you?

Painter.

Share the same studio?

Who's your favorite painter?

Van gogh.

Van gogh? Yeah, he's all right.

Yours?

I don't know.

Who are your friends?

Francoise and Genevieve.

They're painters.

What do they paint...

Besides their fingernails?

He's going through his usual routine.

"So you're painters.

"I'm a painter, too.

"Come to my studio,
I'd like to show you my work.

"I know your face so well.

I painted it before
you were even born."

You must come to my studio sometime.
I'll show you around.

You know, I've painted your
face before you were born.

No one stops you on the street

and says you're a Picasso?

No? Never?

We have an appointment
to see monsieur Picasso.

He told us to come.

To see his work.

"That spread over a
sky dripping with herring,

"fished out of
a ploughed-over ocean,

broiling under a myriad sun."

"Torso and testicle,

"where's the party you promised

"with fiery men of eternal erections

"rising out of flaming bushes

"to heat up our cold caves?

"At least get the soup,

so I can warm my feet
in its noodles."

"My aunt had a
cat that swallowed a parrot

and cried out all day long in a
voice as dulcet as yours..."

"Food, food, food!"

"Food! Food!"

"Food!"

"Food! Food!"

Good. On.

"Lie down, my sweet
turtle, and"... lie down.

"And let me walk your starry planet

with my 6-toed feet
of pliant rubber."

"We're respectable, licensed whores,

"so hold your filthy tongue

and supply us with
your sturdier organ."

"At your service, madame."

"They leap over a tub in which
sea urchins are boiling

in an orgasm
of frenetic excitement."

"Bubbling water
scalds the lovers..."

Kind of you to spare me the time.

Are you cold?

The other night the water
froze in the fish bowl,

so my goldfish is dead.

Imagine, a cold-blooded
creature like a fish

couldn't survive the arctic
climate of my apartment.

Come, let me show you around.

My print room.

This is where I print my engravings.

You're now in the labyrinth
of the minotaur.

Aren't you afraid you'll never get out?

No?

You must know that the minotaur perishes

if he doesn't devour at least
2 young maidens a day.

That's my press.

Help me.

That's good.

So, you're painters?

Who is your teacher?

Genevieve is visiting from montpellier

where she's a pupil of maillol.

Maillol.

And who is your teacher?

I don't have one,

but I'm very much a painter.

Really?

Maillol is a very good teacher for you.

When do you go back to montpellier?

The day after tomorrow.

So soon?

You'll be lonely when she's gone.

No.

Come and see me.

But come because you like me...

Not as if you're visiting
the holy shrine of Fatima,

all right?

Let's go. He's not going
to show us any paintings.

Of course he will.

Why else did he invite us?

Don't pretend to be so naive.

After Genevieve left for montpellier,

I didn't return to Picasso's
studio for several weeks.

I deliberately held myself back,

perhaps because I sensed that if I
let myself come too close to him,

my whole life would be totally changed.

It was what happened to everyone
whose life was touched by his.

No one could ever remain the same.

They come once a week to see his papers.

Once a week I tell them, let alone
his parents and his grandparents,

even Picasso's great-grandparents
are not Jewish.

30 for the groceries.

They're thieves.
How much was the wine?

20.

Must be German.

Just change the wine merchants.

You said to bring her straight
in whenever she comes.

Well, she's come.

Good afternoon.

But the poor girl is all wet.

Look at this, sabartes.

Her hair is all wet.

Ines, get me a towel.

I must dry it for her.

Soaking wet.

I had a feeling when I woke up

that you would come today.

It may even have been a dream.

Poor girl comes here drenched to the skin

and in mortal danger
of catching pneumonia,

the least we can do
is dry her hair for her.

Come with me.
I'll do it for you.

This is Ines.

Hello.

Hello.

Here. Sit down.

You could even have a bath.

Look. Hot water.

No, don't! It's too hot.

How many places in Paris today

where there's hot water?

So come have a bath any time.

Let's see how good I am
at drying you off.

Good?

Better?

You do it.

Well?

Well, what?

You're not angry with me?

No.

If you don't even push me away,

I might get the idea I could
do anything at all with you.

If you were a properly
brought-up young lady,

you would feel insulted.

Here I am, an artist of some reputation,

and you're an innocent
young girl come to visit,

and what do I do?

I take advantage of you.
I insult you.

I don't feel insulted.

Would you let me do it again?

If... if you like.

No.

No, under such conditions...

What pleasure is there
in seducing anyone?

Is that what's happening?

You're seducing me?

You think you're very
sophisticated, don't you?

But I tell you you don't know anything.

What you looking at?

Nothing.

Yes, well...

This modern cult of free sex

doesn't interest me at all.

One might as well go for a haircut

or eat a ham sandwich.

There's nothing serious in it.

So...

Shall we do something serious?

Yes.

OK.

I'll show you my etchings.

After the liberation of Paris,

Picasso, who was already
a world-famous artist,

also became a hero
of the French resistance...

not that he had
done anything very heroic.

He said, "it wasn't that I behaved well",

but that others behaved badly."

From the wild west?

No, I'm from New York.

My mother got that in Times Square.

Picasso's secretary sabartes

claimed that after the war,

tourists only came to Europe

to see the pope, Pompeii,

and Pablo Picasso.

Careful, Pablo.

Cheese.

Yee-hee! All right!

Meanwhile,

I was having my own liberation.

For the last few years

I'd been wanting to give up my studies

and just paint full time,

but I hadn't dared
mention this to my father.

Not till I met Picasso.

My father had worked hard
to form my character,

to make me like himself...

tough and afraid of nothing.

But when I grew up, I began to
have my own ideas and desires,

and if they were opposed to his,

he'd go wild and become
completely irrational.

I knew that this would
take all my courage.

What's the matter with you?

Listen...

I've made up my mind.

I'm going to study painting full time.

You must be mad.

I am responsible for myself.

You will finish your degree in the
humanities and then go on to law school.

I tried all that,

but I found it doesn't suit me.

I'm not going on to law school,

but I shall try and be a painter!

I'll give you half an hour.

Go to your room and think it over,

and in half an hour, come back
and tell me you've been a fool.

I don't need to think anything over.

I'm giving you this one chance.

That's all.

If you don't take it,

I'll make my own decision for you.

I'll have you committed...

Because you are mad.

Is grandma home?

Don't you dare touch me.

Don't dare?

I dare!

I dare!

No!

I'll teach you to say no to me!

No one says no to me!

No one says no to me!

No one in this world!

Francoise?

Francoise!

From now on,

you beg for your bread in the streets.

What...

She did it to herself.

He's lying. He did it.

Don't believe her. She's crazy.

I believe her.

It's you who are crazy.

Here, child.

And in my house.
Aren't you ashamed?

Please leave.

Leave.

Leave, leave my house.

Francoise will stay with me.

Let her stay with you.

You're welcome to each other...

Because I've finished with you.

Both of you!

Finished!

There.

Now, you didn't paint the war

because you're not that kind of painter,

but, it is there, just the same.

People were hungry,

so I painted sausages and leeks.

Even a casserole can scream.

Do you have an appointment?

Yes.

He told me to come for a lesson
in engraving this afternoon.

Listen...

It will be better for you to go home.

Why?

I'm doing you a favor.

Thank you...

But I don't want to anger him

by being late for my lesson.

Excuse me.

So, we are agreed on this and this?

Haven't agreed on anything yet.

Francoise!
This is monsieur kahnweiler.

He's my oldest dealer.

Mademoiselle.

Hello.

That is to say that,

he shamelessly has exploited
me longer than anyone else.

He gets whatever he wants out of me

by sheer persistence.

He sits there like a big stone
on his German buttocks.

I'd do anything to be rid of him.

I'll send the packers this afternoon.

I haven't said yes.

Shall we say at 4:00?

Look, this may interest you.

I did it in 1902.

Read what I wrote on the bottom there.

"Quando tengas
ganas de joder, jode."

Translate it.

No, no.

Go on.

Well, if you're too coy...

You translate it.

Good-bye,
mademoiselle.

"When you feel
like fucking, fuck."

Why are you wearing this dress

for an engraving lesson?

Well, one has to dress up
a bit to visit Picasso.

Well...

Yeah.

I want to show you something.

Come with me.

You're a very lazy dog.

You're always sleeping.

Maybe he's dead.

I'll come up behind,

catch you if you fall.

Don't let anyone in.

Well...

Here.

Go on.

Nice view?

Would you like to stay here?

Up here?

Yes.

Alone?

Yes.

I'd bring you food twice a day and...

At night we'd go out together

in disguise like the Arabian nights,

and, you'd be my secret.

My secret captive.

I'd like to be alone and paint all day.

I wouldn't mind losing
my liberty for that.

But then you'd have to
lose some of yours, too.

And I'm not so sure you'd like that.

I thought you would be rather androgynous

under all those clothes you always wear.

But you're not.

You're definitely not a boy.

Thank God who made you.

For once he got it absolutely right.

Yes.

It's ridiculous the 2 of us
living in different places.

True.

You should be with him
in the grands-augustins.

Give me a good reason why not.

She's young.

You've got to give her time.

I don't have much time.

That's true, too.

What do you mean by that?

I...

You can tell your grandmother today

that you're moving out and coming
to live with me, or I'll tell her.

Please, don't say anything.

Why not?

What, is she some sort of an ogre?

Anyway, I'm not scared
of anyone's grandmother.

He's had 100 lives already.

And the whole world knows how
many women he's destroyed.

I couldn't bear it for you, darling.

Do you really think

I'd let myself be destroyed by
a man, even if he is Picasso?

Well, I... I don't
understand you.

It's going against nature.

You are so young.

And he's old.

It's as if you've taken a wrong turning.

No.

For the first time,

I feel that everything is right,

that I'm turned in the right direction.

I'm sure. I'm so sure.

I've never been so sure of
anything in my whole life.

Then it doesn't matter what I say.

Except...

I love you.

And whatever happens...

I love you.

Good night.

Don't go and live with him, francoise.

Remember these years
won't come back again.

If you waste them...

They're gone.

It's perverse for...

A young girl to live with
her grandmother as you do.

I suppose she's warned you against me?

Who needs to be warned?

Your life is not exactly a secret.

Well, there have been a few
women in my life, yes.

Would you stop doing that?

Stop it. Don't do it.

Don't... I can't help it
if my hair's falling out.

Stop it! Stop it.

In fact, there have been several women.

Hundreds, thousands of them.

I've lost count.

I can't remember how
many of them there are.

So many.

Now there's only you.

I love you more and more every day.

You mean everything to me.

"You mean everything to me.

"If I am sad,

"it is because I cannot be with
you as I would like to be.

"I would give anything
for you to be happy.

"My own tears would mean nothing to me

"if I could stop you
from shedding even one.

I love you."

Papa loves us, Maya.

Then why doesn't he live with us?

Why does he only come on Sundays?

Well, he's very busy all week.

Everyone wants his paintings,

so he has to work terribly hard.

He's doing it for us.

To earn money for us.

Picasso had met Marie-therese
when she was 17 years old.

She was so simple that
she'd never even heard of him.

He had to show her his
photograph in a popular magazine

to prove to her that he was famous.

His paintings of Marie-therese

are all about making love.

They are full of
sensuality, of sexuality.

But I suppose she wasn't very intelligent

and he got bored with her.

And that was when
dora maar entered his life.

His early portraits of dora
were as tender and lyrical

as those of Marie-therese
when he first loved her,

though in much stronger colors,

black hair glistening
with blues and Greens

to express dora's
much stronger character.

But within a few years, he had
tortured dora out of shape

and turned her into the weeping woman

with bulging eyes and swollen nostrils

and lashes that had become teardrops.

She lived around the corner from him,

and he showed up at her studio
whenever it suited him.

So she spent her days
and nights waiting for him.

She was psychologically his prisoner,

and once he actually
painted her behind bars

with a crust of bread and a jug of water.

That picture no longer exists.

He painted over it.

But her misery remained.

More insects for you.

This is how you wake up
one morning, like kafka.

What has happened to you?

I was attacked.

A man attacked me and stole my bicycle.

When was this?

Just now.

He attacked me and stole my bicycle.

We must inform the police.

I told them,

but they said the assailant is within.

He's you.

You're my assailant.

Pull yourself together.

You may be a great painter,

but morally you're worthless.

You live an evil life.

You have contaminated the whole world.

That's exactly what my critics say.

Who have you been reading?

I'm thinking of you and your salvation.
You have to be saved.

Well, you save me.

No, don't you see?

I can't. Corruption
is eating me up, too.

I'm like a rotted tooth in your mouth.

It's not your fault.

It's not my fault...

it's God's fault. No!

Ask to be forgiven. We
must pray together.

If we don't pray,

we are doomed, doomed together.

Don't you understand? We
are one soul before God.

Pray together.

One soul, and we'll be redeemed.

Slow, slow, slow.

Slow down!

Just calm down.

Calm.

There.

We'll go see Dr. Lacan.

Don't make me leave you!

No, I'll take you.
Of course I will.

I'll take you. You just need
some rest, that's all?

Not without you.

No, no, no, I'm going with you.

I'm going with you.

Dora's weak.

She cracked under the strain.

Under the strain of you.

You should be helping her,

not hurting her more.

It's only human not to peck

a weaker person to death.

No. What is human is to
be strong and survive.

The rest is sentimental rubbish.

Anyway, there's nothing
between dora and me anymore.

She'll tell you herself.

Come on. It's not much further.

I don't want to go.

She's expecting us.

I thought you felt
so terribly sorry for her.

Exactly. That's why
I don't want to go.

My God, what's the matter with you?

I'm doing this for you,

don't you understand?

I'm a man of deep feelings.

You have no feelings. You
know nothing about love.

You're as cold as a fish.

I'll throw you in
the sea and warm you up.

What's the matter with you?

An exaggerated sense of humor.

"I don't want to go."

Come. "I don't want to go."

"I don't want to go."
"I don't want to go."

The tension between negative

and positive shapes is...

Very strong.

She's intelligent, isn't she?

I really like intelligent women.

Sometimes.

Of course, I like stupid ones, too.

I take it you've come for something other

than to study my paintings.

That's right. The point is,

I'm trying to make francoise
come and live with me,

but she says she won't because of you.

What do I have to do with it?

Exactly.

You heard it yourself.

She has nothing to do with it.

Because there is nothing
between her and me.

Tell her.

No, absolutely nothing.

Then that's settled.

Everyone knows where they stand.

Yes.

Everyone always knows where
they stand with you.

She's not going to last
15 minutes with you.

Perhaps she thinks
you'll immortalize her.

Don't raise her hopes.

Picassos may turn out
to be no more immortal

than the skeleton of some
extinct bird of prey.

Come and have dinner with us.

You should be glad that
I'm in a good mood again

and in love.

You've never loved anyone in your life.

Psst!

You even hate yourself.

Dora is quite a psychologist, you know.

Come on, I'll take you to lipp

and feed you Sauerkraut.

So, where are you going this summer?

If you're not going to
menerbes, we might.

You'll like menerbes.

It's on a cliff.

It belonged to one of
Napoleon's generals.

It belongs to me.

That's right.

I gave it to dora.

The owner wanted a painting of mine,

so we made an exchange.

His house for my painting.

The owner's wife was
killed in a car crash.

That's why he couldn't
bear the place anymore.

I think it's haunted
by that poor dead woman.

Don't say these things.

Anyway, if you're not
going there this summer,

we might. Francoise and I.

But if it's dora's house, then I...

it's a present.
I gave it to her.

Tell her, dora.

Yes, it's my house which he gave to me,

as his present to me.

It's full of scorpions
as you'll find out.

Shake out your shoes in the morning

before putting them on.

Little scorpions...

Zzzz. Ch ch ch.

Look at that, look!

I love wild cats.

They're always pregnant because
they think of nothing but love.

All these cats
ever get to eat is lizards.

Then the lizards eat them from inside.

That's why they are so thin.

Francoise!

Francoise, look!

Watch!

Look, look, look!

That was the sort of scene he loved:

Only men with scarcely a woman in sight.

It was the only bastille day
I had ever seen

where there was no dancing at all.

"Thank God for that," Picasso said.

He hated dancing.

To sleep with as many women as possible,

that was fine.

But to dance with them...

That was immoral.

Thank you.

From grandma?

What does she want?

From Marie-therese, I suppose?

Yeah, she's so sweet,

writing to me every day.

"There's only one you, my
wonderful, terrible lover.

"No one else in the entire
world, not even Maya.

I live for you
with every breath."

You would never write to me like that.

No, I wouldn't.

Marie-therese really loves me.

She's a real woman.

Look above you.

Hey! What are you doing?

I'm hitchhiking to marseilles,

and from there I'm going to Algeria.

Algeria.

Another madwoman.

Get in the car!

No, I've made up my mind.

Get in the car!

Hey, get in the car! Come on!

Stop!

Stop!

Francoise!

Francoise!

I'm not going back to that house.

Come here!

Come back!

Francoise!

I am not going back to that house.

Wh-what's wrong?

You can't do this to...

you can't, mademoiselle.

Monsieur needs you.

L-let me go!

Get into the car!

Let me go!

Get into the car!

Let me go!

I wish I could wrap you
up in one of those tents

that Muslim women wear.

In Spain we believe that the
eye is like a sexual organ

and looking at a woman can be rape.

Rape with the eye.

I want you to swear

that you will love me forever.

Swear before God.

But you don't believe in God.

Not in here.

Kneel.

Come on, kneel.

Kneel down.

Now, say it,

"I, francoise, swear to love Picasso

"and only Picasso

"forever and ever.

Amen."

"I, francoise, swear to love Picasso

"and only Picasso

"forever and ever.

Amen."

Good, now you've sworn it.

You can never run away from me again.

Now, you swear, you swear.

Why did you run away?

Aren't you happy with me?

You can't pretend to be

the easiest person in the
world to get along with.

I'm a perfectly straightforward character

with all my cards on the table.

But there are so many cards,

and some of them are
under the table, too.

And then suddenly they pop
up like Marie-therese,

and now who knows who
else is going to appear.

You think too much up here.

You shouldn't think up there,

you should feel down there.

You should have a child.

You should have my child,

then you'd learn how to feel.

You'd be a real woman.

You'd be my woman.

The exhibition's on the fourth.

I have to have my answer today.

I must tell my printer.

Who knows what this day will bring

before the sun will set on it?

I've been here every day this week,

and every day I hear the same thing.

Well, perhaps tomorrow will be different.

Where there is life, there's
always hope, my friend.

Hope is green and eternal.

Look, look, look,

I'm neither green nor eternal.

I-I don't know about
everybody else,

but I must get back to New York.

I have a business to run.

And so have I.

My business is called Picasso.

I have to see him today.

It's imperative.

Imperative?

Imperative, that's right.

Why don't you try and get up?

No, no, don't.

Try!

Don't torture me! Go away.

I can't stand it, I can't
stand it any longer.

Of course not, without
your coffee and brioche.

What were you thinking of?

The man has to eat.
Yes, he's human.

Don't put it on the bed.

I'm... I'm going away, I must.

There's no other way out.

No, you'll feel better in a minute.

I can't stand it any longer.

You know this is no life.

What am I doing here?

You know very well
I'm not doing anything.

Every day I work worse
than the day before.

And today you'll do something you like.

Just get up and start
work and you'll see.

We've lit the stove.
The studio's all warm.

What makes you think today will
be any better than yesterday?

But yesterday was wonderful.

You finished your whole
series on the Pont Neuf.

Yeah, but is it any good?

Go and see for yourself.

No. It would only depress me.

But it's wonderful!

Kootz says he has to see you today.
It's imperative.

He said it was imperative yesterday.

He said it was imperative the day before.

He's making my life hell.

He says he has to get back to America,

and kahnweiler is there, too.

They're sitting side
by side in the salon.

But they loathe each other.

Well, you go and tell them.

Tell them what?

I don't know.

Tell them Picasso has a stomachache.

Well, it's true, I have a stomachache.

Every time I inform my doctor,

he just shows me his grandson's drawings.

If you get up, you'd feel better.

Why don't you try?

I hate it when people try to bully me.

It's particularly ugly
in a woman, francoise.

Hey!

Good morning.

Good afternoon.

Want a light?

Por favor.

Don't you have any matches?

No.

Sorry to keep you waiting.

Monsieur.

How do you do?

Bonjour, maitre.

Señor. Hello.

Buon giorno. I'm honored.

Jean-Claude, are you
here again today?

Madame.

Hello. Monsieur.

Pablo. Monsieur.

Madame, hello.

Kootz, what are you doing here?

No one told me.

Why didn't you tell me he was here?

Francoise, keeping
Mr. Kootz waiting.

Come with me. I have
something to show you.

Good. Finally.

I'll be back.

Of course he didn't even see me.

Mr. Kootz has come all
the way from New York.

The only reason kootz is
in Paris is to buy picassos.

He goes nowhere else, sees no one else.

He doesn't even go to the louvre.

He says it isn't abstract enough for him.

Do you,

do you think Picasso
will sell him something?

What? What will he sell him?
What has he got?

I'm sure he'll show you very soon.

Now, in New York I can sell
everything that you give me

in 5 minutes. Just like that.

How much?

For.

For more than any painter alive today.

More than Matisse?

More, more.

This is too...
this is wonderful.

You still have this?

It's a braque.

I've had it for 30 years.

Well, m-Matisse has sent
a lot of new work,

but I keep telling them in New York,

"wait till you see the new picassos,

wait till you see
the new picassos."

I've got them all steamed up.

So, all this, all this is new?

Well.

How many were you thinking of?

9.

He wants 9 pictures.

If wishes were horses,
beggars would ride.

Sabartes loves old proverbs.

He's such an old woman.

9's impossible.

7? I... I can't go home
with less than 6.

What about my other dealers?

What about kahnweiler?

Kahnweiler?

Kahnweiler is still
on pre-war prices,

pre-world war I prices.

I am here to make a serious offer.

Kahnweiler's my oldest dealer.

He bought when no one
else would spit at me.

Yes, but great art can't
be bought with sentiment.

You need something more substantial.

I like your necktie.

Thank you.

Is it American? Yes.

New York? Saks fifth Avenue.

Are you interested?

Am I interested?

I would...

I would have it shipped the moment that,

it was finished.

A painting can never be finished.

Well, of... of course,
that's... that's what I meant.

Art is always in process.

I did... I didn't
mean to imply...

To finish a painting means to
destroy it, to rob it of its soul.

To give it the puntilla,
the coup de grace.

No, my friend, the day I finish a
painting, that day I'm finished.

I really like that necktie.

Then it would be my
pleasure to give it to you.

Here.

Thank you.

Mr. Kahnweiler,
you're still here.

I'm so sorry. I can't think
what happened today,

why you've been kept waiting so long.

Well, it amuses him to think
of me sitting out here,

wondering what he might be
selling to other dealers.

It's been his favorite game with me

for the past 35 years.

OK. See you tomorrow.

Well, I can change the reservation time.

Kahnweiler, what are you doing here?
No one told me you...

why didn't you tell me
Mr. Kahnweiler was here?

He's my old friend.
How are you?

Do you like my tie? Kootz gave it to me.
It's from New York.

I think it looks nice on you.

Saks fifth aven... is it saks?
Yes.

How are... why didn't you tell
me he was here, you silly...

so, s... listen...

I'll show you something.

You have a good journey.

Well, thank you...

good. You happy?

Well, I hope to be. I...

good.

Bad.

Think he'll sell him anything?

Did he sell you anything?

He told me to come back tomorrow.

Why did you give him your necktie?

He said he liked it.
What could I do?

I've got such a pain right here.
I... have you?

Can change my reservation,

because he told me they were all booked.

Don't you get tired
standing all that time?

You've been working for nearly 9 hours.

While I work, I leave my
body outside the door,

the way muslims take off their shoes

before they enter the mosque.

I love these spotlights.

I even prefer them to natural light.

They set off every object.

There.

You'll find the deep shadows they make

in most of my still lifes,

because they were painted at night.

Painting is stronger than I am.

It makes me do what it wants.

It holds the brush.

It doesn't seem to obey my brain,

but something else over
which I have no control.

Now, look at this.

Obviously, it's a woman.

It's you in your long black dress.

But you seem to be turning into a...

A bouquet of flowers or a lilac bush.

Very mysterious...

I think I've painted one
thing, and it's another.

I've become so fatalistic,

I think, well, if it's
blue, it must be a woman,

if it has a beard, it must be a man.

I make a lot of mistakes,
and so does God.

He makes a dachshund and then an
elephant and a squirrel and a whale.

Like me.

He's tried everything, like me.

We have no style.

Style only comes after you're dead.

There are painters who make
themselves a little cake mold,

and then they bake cakes.

Always the same cakes.

You can try anything in painting,

provided you never do it again.

Don't sell yourself anything.

Don't become your own connoisseur.

Now!

What are you going
to call him? Pablo?

Or Paulo, like your other son?
How old is Paulo now?

Why not Pablo?
Another Pablo Picasso.

Doesn't he look exactly like me?

An authentic Picasso.

He certainly has the same hair.

What ugly flowers.

Aren't they?

Prime example of my taste for bad taste.

I have excellent taste
in women and children.

Let me see him.

Hold his head!

Every Thursday and
Sunday, he would disappear.

Those were the days he spent
with his other family,

Marie-therese and Maya.

She was the only person
allowed to cut his nails,

a dangerous procedure,

because if the parings

were to fall into the wrong hands,

they could be used
against him as black magic.

The same with his hair clippings.

All of these were kept
and dated carefully,

just like every scrap he ever drew.

Do you want me to cut your hair today?

Is there anything left to cut?

Yes. Look at this.

So soft. Beautiful.

No, it's... look,
do you like this?

Shall I cut it?
Want to see me bald?

Give me the scissors. No.

Come on, give me the scissors.

Right, hold it there.

Good.

Finished?

There, papa's a bald old man now?

Do you like it?

Kiss me on the head.
You like it?

Yes.

You like it? And another.

I've had such trouble

with the electricity bill.

They say you have to pay it first,

and then they'll investigate
and give you a refund.

Come here.

Maya and I will have to go
shopping for a new coat for her.

She's growing so fast.

Money is such a worry for you,

and Maya and I try not to spend too much.

Without you and Maya, my life would be...

A desert waste.

And from now on,

I want you to write me twice a day.

Every day, you understand?

Twice a day, because I'm sick
if I don't hear from you.

Really sick.
Miserable and lonely.

After our son was born

we spent less and less time in Paris.

Picasso decided that
children need sea air,

and as soon as it was spring,

we went to golfe Juan and stayed
right through the autumn.

But, of course, wherever Picasso went,

his assorted families went, too,

why don't you let me
teach you how to swim?

I swim very well up to my knees.

I can make love underwater, remember?

Are you cold?

Yes, I'm freezing.

You know what I think would be nice?

What?

If you would let Marie-therese
and Maya come and visit us.

Why?

Why not? Give me
one good reason.

You don't understand
these things yourself.

I understand that
Claude has a half-sister,

and I would like him to meet her.

For a middle-class girl,

you have very little sense of propriety.

You were very badly brought up.

Very badly. Go away.

Claude was saying whole sentences

by the time he was 18 months.

Yeah.

When did he start walking?

He must've been...

3 days.

15 months.

I shouldn't.

Maya walked before she was a year old.

Girls are usually quicker than boys.

But I didn't wean her till 14 months.

I started Claude on
solid food at 4 months.

4 months? Imagine.

He did very well with bananas and cereal.

And beef steaks.

Beef steaks?

Before he had teeth?

He was born with teeth.

Strong teeth, like mine.

I used to mash the yolk of
an egg for him in milk.

You haven't finished your tea.
It will get cold.

Thank you.

Don't hope that you can
ever take my place.

Of course not.

Others have tried and failed.

I shall always be the first
and most important with him.

That is all I wanted to say.

He was very
disappointed with this meeting.

"You're not a real woman," he accused me.

A real woman would have fought
over him, physically fought,

like dora maar did
with Marie-therese.

It happened while
he was painting guernica,

that great human cry against aggression

and hate between man and man...

And woman and woman.

This man is the father of my child.

You have no right to be here.

It's true I haven't got a child,

but I think he finds me
equally, if not more amusing,

without one.

Make up your mind.

Which one of us do you want?

I like you both. I have
no complaints at all.

You must fight it out between yourselves.

And this.

And this.

Hey!

Garbageman!

Don't look at her.

Who's that?

Completely crazy.

When I was married to you,
you were an artist.

What are you doing now?
Collecting garbage.!

Who is that?

A garbageman.
Artist to garbageman.

Olga my wife.

That's Olga?

They call you "king
of the rubbish dump."

King of the rubbish dump.

That's the only kind of king you are.

Who is this one he has got with him?

Who is she?

Where did he find her?

Go away. Go home.

I'm his wife.

His wife.

I am the only madame Picasso.

Where's your son?

My son? Yeah.

He's your son.
Every bit of him.

He does no work,

he spends all of my money,

and then he asks for more.

He's going from bad to worse, like you.

Nothing but drink and girls,

exactly like his father.

I don't drink.

Have you heard of Rembrandt?

Francoise?

Have you...

Heard of Rembrandt?

If you were like him,
you would be a real painter.

Have you heard of Beethoven?

He is a great genius.

You, you are nothing.
Nobody. Garbage.

That goes very well with your trousers.

I eat caviar...

Picasso had met Olga in 1917.

She was with diaghilev's ballet russe.

Diaghilev chose his dancers

either because they were good dancers,

or because they had
good social connections

and could be useful to him.

Olga fell into the latter category.

Who's the dancer?

That is Olga koklova.

She can't dance,

but her father is a general
in the Russian army.

You better be careful.

Of her or the general?

You start something with a Russian woman,

that's it.

You marry her.

No, she really can't dance.

But my peacocks are good.

Olga and Picasso were married in 1918.

Their son Paulo was born in 1921,

the same year as I was.

Paulo came in second at
the monte Carlo rally.

Imagine?

With all those professionals.

Iviva Paulo!

That's all he's good for,
riding that stupid motorcycle

I was stupid enough to buy him.

Playing boules with you.

You're a bad influence on him...

well, everyone Paulo meets
is a bad influence on him.

He's a good son. He's
very proud of you.

Isn't that so, mademoiselle?

Stop calling her mademoiselle.

Here she is with a child.

Well, 2 children, including
that lump up there.

It's all right, everything is fine...

No! Let me go!

Pull her up at once!

Up you come!

It's disturbing the peace.

Such behavior is inadmissible.

Get Paulo.

Go get Paulo.

Fortunately for all concerned,

he's your son,

and as commissioner of police,

I can take that into
consideration for a time,

but you must put a stop to it, monsieur.

I'll put a stop to it, all right.

Bring Paulo, I said!

I'm not going in there alone!

He doesn't even want me in!

You son of a white Russian!

Lowest form of animal life!

And you! You're responsible, too!
Do you hear me?

He's my son, you're my wife,
so he's your son also!

Of course.

It's unbelievable!

Throwing a woman out of the window!
Idiot!

Just having some fun, papa.

Yes.

Your fun is costing me too much money.

I'm sick of paying your debts.

I don't know what's to become of you.

I never heard of such a thing.

I had plenty of women,
but never in my life

did I throw one out of a window.

I won't do it again,
papa. I promise.

Well...

I suppose you can't help it.

You're a Russian. It's
all from your mother.

She's mad, so you were born mad.

I suppose I'm to blame.

I should never have married her

or had a child with someone like that.

Well, then I wouldn't be here, papa.

I should never have married her.

I was warned, but I didn't listen.

Out of a window?

When they were first married,

Picasso was amused
by the smart social circles

to which Olga introduced him.

They even had a chauffeur
with white gloves,

the same marcel
whom I met 15 years later,

only without the white gloves.

It didn't take Picasso long to
tire of all the snobbish parties,

and by the 1930s, his paintings of her,

always the surest
indication of his feelings,

no longer showed a radiant dancer,

but a prematurely aged and shrewish wife

whom he had come to detest.

Isn't it strange?

I have never seen you paint before.

Why strange? I also make love.

Have you ever seen me do that before?

Monsieur, I could do
something very good for you.

Lean over here.
Let me show you.

Would you like curls, or a wave...
Or a fringe?

Or would you like a
little parting, or all?

There, a little frieze, little bumps...

A little lace.

How beautiful...

Look.

I am madame Picasso.

I'm his wife.

You can push as many prams

with as many little bastards
in them as you like,

but there is only one madame Picasso.

Me!

Olga Picasso!

He has killed her,

and you're being haunted by her ghost.

Picasso!

Could you sleep?
Leave you alone?

No, this is not right.

This is my home. I live here.

You hear what I say?

Please, this is not his child.

No, madame... no,
no, madame, enough.

His child is Paulo!

Enough, madame, please.

Only Paulo.

Please, you must not do this.

Please, I live here with my husband!

It is no good. This is no good.

Please let me go in! Please!

My dear.

How your husband has made you suffer.

Come on, Claudio.

Every time someone annoys your mother,

you go,

Pa-pa...

I want to find another house

and move out of the villa pour toi.

Why do we have to live
in the middle of town?

Mo... ho... move?

Move? Don't be ridiculous.

If I had to move every
time women fought over me,

I'd be... eternally packing

and unpacking all the time.

I'm not fighting over you.

Besides...

We'll need more room next year.

Did you hear what I said?

What?

I'm going to have another baby.

Another one?

Like that?

When?

When?

Next year.

Why don't you take these?
Hey, these!

Why don't you take them yourself?

Can you help?

It wasn't my idea.

It was you who wanted to move.

Will... will you show some
more respect for my work?

Francoise?

Come upstairs.

Close the door!

Why don't you keep
your money in the bank,

like everybody else?

Banks are always crashing.

Ruined millionaires jump out of windows.

I prefer to have some ready cash.

Now put those into denominations:

Hundreds, fifties, twenties...

In all the years we were together,

Picasso gave me no money at all,

and I never asked him for any.

It was one more thing for my
grandmother to hold against him.

She knew I had to provide
for myself and for Claude,

and soon there would be the new baby.

I'd like to say that my grandmother

came to the midi to enjoy the sea air,

but the truth is

she enjoyed the casino more.

She was a great gambler,

and unlike other gamblers,
she usually won.

Francoise?

I can't...

no. I know he gives you nothing

for you or the child.

The man's a multimillionaire.

It's supposed to be a test of character.

How to survive on nothing.

Fortunately, I was
beginning to earn with my own work.

Picasso didn't directly influence me,

but I was surrounded by him

as if he were an element,

as in an element...
say, water... I swam,

but he wasn't teaching me how to swim.

He said, "painting can't be taught."

It can only be found."

"Don't try to be Picasso.

Be yourself."

How many paintings
could you let me have a year?

I might be able to give
you a show in the spring,

and we could talk then about
a contract on future works.

No. I'll do the talking.

To be under contract to kahnweiler

is the surest way to starve to death.

No, no, no.

The, news from America is not so good.

Matisse is all right. His
prices are rising, but...

They are not buying picassos.

Why not? Because I joined
the communist party?

Good.

Fine.

I'm satisfied.

You wouldn't understand this, kahnweiler,

but it's only since I
joined the communist party

that I feel once again
I am among my brothers.

You'll see. They'll be
strikes and troubles.

They'll be marching and
singing in the streets...

And you'll be hanging from a lamppost.
Ack-ck-ck-ck!

Comrades...

Stalin.

Stalin! Stalin! Stalin! Stalin!

Stalin! Stalin! Stalin! Stalin!

Picasso.

Picasso! Picasso!
Picasso! Picasso!

Thank you.

In joining the communist party,

Picasso had followed many other
artists and intellectuals

for whom communism was a new theology,

with God replaced by Stalin.

Taking along his chauffeur
marcel for company,

Picasso attended a party
conference in Poland.

It is our duty...

They hated his art,

but they loved his name

and knew what a useful
propaganda tool he was for them.

Anarchy in his art,

which places the individual
outside the masses.

Thank you, comrades...

The international proletariat...

It is a great honor for me to
be here with you this evening,

a very great honor.

However, I must take exception
to my good comrade's remarks

when he uses the word "anarchy"

in connection with my work.

I am not an anarchist,
and I never have been.

My work is a constructive one.

I am building, not tearing down.

Anarchy... anarchy in art

is a petit-bourgeois concept,

which condemns the artist to mediocrity,

incapacity, and malfeasance.

Your impressionist, surrealist style...

comrade, if you...
if you must insult me...

At least...

Get your terminologies straight.

Monsieur Picasso!

Picasso!

Pierre, I can't let you photograph
here without his permission.

Of course. Everything has to
be done with his permission.

I'm sorry.

When's he back?

He said he'd be gone 3 days,

and he's been gone 3 weeks.

Do you ever hear from Genevieve?

Yeah.

Is she still in montpellier?

She comes to Paris sometimes.

Don't you see her anymore?

He doesn't like me to
have friends of my own.

Every day I get this
telegram from Poland.

"Hugs and kisses,
from Picasso."

Hugs and kisses...

That's not Pablo.
That's marcel.

He must have told marcel, "send
her a telegram every day."

Keep her quiet."

Francoise!

What?

That's for the hugs and kisses.

Francoise?

See what I've brought you from Poland.

Francoise?

Look...

I bought it for you.

Here you are.

Open it.

Olá.

Put it on.

He was brilliant at coaxing a woman,

changing her mood, treating her as a pet.

He loved pets.

He didn't care for people so much.

People could be difficult
and give him trouble.

Our daughter
was called Paloma: The dove.

She was a model baby who slept
practically round the clock.

Picasso was delighted with her,

especially as she never
disturbed him at night.

She'll be a perfect woman:

Passive and submissive,
as all girls should be...

And their mothers.

Claude.

Look.

Look.

Where are we going?

Look.

He loved being with the
children for short periods of time.

He spent most of his days away from us,

assembling his pieces of scrap metal,

arranging what he called,
"the chance meeting

on a dissecting table of a
sewing machine and an umbrella."

He would turn an old radiator
into an accordion player

and explain it as a metaphor to
fool not the eye, but the mind.

Dominus vobiscum.

Et cum spiritus tou.

Benedictat vos omnipotens deus,

pater et filius et spiritus sanctus.

Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen.

Ita mista est.

Deo gratias.

All this is typical of Matisse.

There is no terror in him.

Of course, compared with me,

Matisse is a young lady.

I don't know how he can do all this

and not believe what it represents.

It's morally wrong.

You don't believe, but you made me swear.

Do you remember how you made
me swear to love you forever?

He should have built a market,

then he could paint his
usual fruit and vegetables

and his pretty flowers
instead of all this.

Why don't you swear now?

Why don't you swear to love
me and the children forever

or at least the children?

What are you talking about?

You don't believe...

So it wouldn't mean anything...

And it might help us.

What's the matter with you?

The only time I've ever seen
Picasso put himself out for anyone,

except when he was wooing a new woman,

was when we visited Matisse
at the hotel Regina in nice.

Matisse tended to treat
Picasso like a favorite son

of whom he couldn't quite approve.

They exchanged paintings, but
they were always on their guard,

each speculating about the other's work

and asking, "what's he doing?"

But Picasso said, "finally,
there is only Matisse."

When he goes, there will be
nothing left to say to anyone."

Henri, Lydia...

This is francoise.

Monsieur Matisse.

Hello.

These are very special
dates from Madagascar.

Take one.

No. No.

No?

Please.

Lydia?

Thank you.

You're wearing my colors:

Mauve and olive green.

I told you to wear them.
It was my idea.

No. You told me
to wear mauve and pink.

Whatever I say, francoise is
assured to say the opposite.

I live in a perpetual
climate of contradiction.

I feel very sorry for you.

You always did have a bad time
with beautiful young women.

But whoever had the idea...

I would like to paint
francoise in those colors.

Her hair would be blue,
her cheeks light green,

but of course her eyebrows
would rhyme with her ears.

I suppose you could send francoise
around to pose for me?

Certainly...

If you send Lydia
in exchange to pose for me.

Probably Lydia wouldn't like that.

Did you know that women
in Paris curse each other,

"may you be painted by Picasso,

the eyes and the ears,
the nose and the mouth"?

Now that I do not get out very much,

I've made myself a little
garden to walk in.

Everything is here...

Fruit...

Flowers...

Leaves...

A few birds.

My own swimming pool.

You like to swim?

We went to see your chapel in vence.

And I expect you found
plenty to criticize.

No. I thought it was beautiful.

Except the choice of subject matter.

What do these symbols mean to you?

If we don't pray, we have
no right to portray prayer.

But we do pray.

When we are working we are praying.

You know that yourself.

No...

I've no religion in
the conventional sense,

yet I believe.

There's a zen saying...

"We have two suns:

"The one outside in the sky,
and the other inside here.

"As the one outside fades for us, so...

The other raises up
more and more."

Since my last illness,

I feel I carry a sun with a
thousand rays inside me.

Yes.

So you've...

Made for yourself a little harem,

an assortment of beautiful women

awaiting your every pleasure.

The older I get,

the younger and more ardent
is my imagination.

Of course, when I was 25,
I did not need imagination.

You've loved women even more than I have,

but you haven't hated them at all.

I leave that to you.

I have a present for you.

For me?

As soon as I saw it, I thought of you.

A present for me.

Lydia, bring in our funny new
friend to meet Mr. Picasso.

Monsieur Matisse has been waiting
for you to come and claim it.

Put it in monsieur Picasso's car.

Unfortunately, there's
no room in the car.

It's full of francoise's mess.

I'll send marcel for it tomorrow.

Put it over your head.

What is it?

Well, go on. It won't hurt you.

It's a ceremonial headdress

used for magical invocations.

Yeah. That's right.

It is from the nevinbumbaau
Vanuatu tribe.

He likes it!

Isn't it exactly Picasso?

I don't see why he
should give me such a...

An ugly thing.

He thought you'd like it.

Yeah?

He's very fond of you.

Really?

Really.

You think so?

You think he likes me?

Monsieur Matisse loves you, monsieur.

Go get the idol tomorrow, then.

This time, we double the stakes.

Hey, hey, hey, hey!

I've already dealt the cards.

Well, I told you to wait for me.

Double the stakes, by the way.

Hey!

How do you like my woman?

You're jealous now?

What did you say?!

She wants to sleep with me!

You haven't slept with a real chauffeur?

Wha!

She's a good driver?

Marcel, look out!

Marcel!

You're late.

Where's my car?

Where's my car?

Monsieur, there's been a little accident.

A little?

Scratch? Fender bent?

I warned you the next time you get drunk

and there's as much as a
scratch on my car, you're out.

Now, tell me, where is it?!

It's in a ditch.

My new car's in the ditch?

You two drunken sods have
left my car in the ditch?

See, what happened was...

I know what happened.

You were sitting in Chez Jacques,

getting drunk on your eternal pastis!

Well, this is it. My car is
finished, and so are you.

You're not fit to be my chauffeur.

You're only fit to
lead this idiot astray.

He's my son.

Unfortunately, I can't get rid of him.

He's around my neck
for the rest of my life,

but you, you're finished!

But you can't.

Who asked you?

Monsieur, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry.
It was my fault.

You take the next train to Paris.

Tell sabartes what is due on your wages

after deducting the cost
of the damages to my car.

I don't ever want to see you again.

Monsieur, I'm very sorry.

It was my fault,

but I've been with you all
these years, 25 years.

25 years too long.
Bring that upstairs.

You mean after all this time...

what?

After everything I've been
to you, you'd fire me?

Yes, I'm firing you.

I should have known.

I warn you...

The day will come

and you will have no one left,

not even francoise.

You'll see.

One day she'll have had enough.

She'll walk out on you.

Picasso had begun making
ceramics at the vallauris potteries,

and his work there
was playful and pretty.

Some said too pretty.

He protested, "they want to be shocked",

and if I smile,
they're disappointed."

Besides the fascination
of working in a new medium,

the potteries held another
fascination for him.

You see, to make a woman...

You first have to wring her neck.

He says, "to make a woman",

you have to wring
her neck first."

To me, he said that about a dove.

It's all the same to him.

A thing's a thing.

Olá.

Sleep well, papa!

Olá.

Why aren't you asleep?

I was waiting for you.

Were you spying on me?

Look, I come and go how and when I want.

I didn't say you couldn't.

I was worried.

Paulo might have had too much to drink

and smashed up the car.

Who knows? Anything
could happen.

In front of my friends, embarrassing me.

Your friends?

Yes!

I saw only one friend.

So, what business is it of yours

if there was one friend
or a hundred of them?

I go where I want.
I see who I want.

Yes, and I sleep or don't
sleep with who I want.

Why didn't you go to bed,

where you should have been hours ago?

You look tired.

Well, it's hardly worth it now.

It's almost time for you
to go and light the stove

in the studio, or it
won't be fit to work in.

It's one damned annoyance
after the other for me.

Picasso could never
keep a new affair a secret

because as soon as he
had a new woman in his life,

a new face began to appear
in his paintings.

Now it was jacqueline from
the vallauris potteries,

but, as always, when
he changed directions,

as when he changed
from Marie-therese to dora,

there was a certain
ambiguity in his work,

maybe expressing a general
restlessness and discontent.

He had appointed Paulo
to be his chauffeur.

He said, "let him be useful for the first
and probably the last time in his life."

They would spin around the midi,

and reports would reach me
via obliging friends

of where Picasso had been
seen and with whom.

I still don't see why
we can't go with you.

I told you. The air in Paris
is no good for the children.

They're much better off here.

What about the things I told you to do,

like supervising him so he doesn't
break all my best pieces?

Don't you want us to be with you?

Yeah.

Don't you think we ought to be together?

We are together.
We're always together.

Hey!

Big boy!

Hey!

Hello?

Hello?

Is that francoise?

Yes?

Father.

I have something to tell you...

What?

Pierre...

My father telephoned.

My grandmother's had a stroke.

She's paralyzed.

I haven't seen or spoken to my father

since I walked out of his house.

You can catch the 11:45 train.

I'll take you to the station.

How can I go to Paris?
He'll be furious.

Who'll be furious?

Picasso. He's left me with
a million things to do.

Get the children ready.

I'll pick you up at the house in an hour.

You have to go.

You don't know what he's like

if anyone goes against his orders.

This isn't the francoise I used to know.

A hundred picassos
couldn't order her around.

Go and pack.

Go.

Father!

She died last night.

I was waiting for you

before deciding on the
funeral arrangements.

I'm sorry,

but the number you dialed
has been disconnected.

Hello?

Hello. May I speak to
madame berthier, please?

Who is this?

You don't know me.

I'm the granddaughter of
a great friend of hers.

Madame berthier died 3 years ago.

I'm so sorry.
I had no idea.

Good-bye.

All her friends are gone.

I can't find a soul.

Well, when you live to a ripe
old age, that's what happens.

There's no one left
to come to your funeral.

When this is all over,

we have a lot of financial
business to discuss.

There's only you and me now.

We must talk about the
children, about their schools.

Is there really no one else?

No.

Have a look.

What about all of those old boyfriends?

Stop it.

Pierre sent me a telegram.

He thought you might need me.

Genevieve!

Pablo's in Paris.

I've got to tell him about
my grandmother's funeral.

Why? Was he your
grandmother's friend?

No, but he's the father of my children,

her great-grandchildren,

not that I expect him to come.

He didn't even go to
his own mother's funeral.

He so abhors any idea of mortality,

of his own mortality.

So she said...

She said, "I want you
to paint my portrait."

Those?

Papa!

What are you doing here? Hey.

Hey, where's your mother?

Where is she?

Where's your mother?

What are they doing up here?

Francoise?

Why have you come here to Paris?

Who's there to supervise Pierre

and everything else I told you to do?

There's no one...

Not one human being I can rely on.

You came here against my express orders.

Yes, against your orders...

Because my grandmother died.

Was that against your orders, too?

Francoise, why didn't you tell me?

You knew I was here.

We could have been together.

Come here.

Francoise?

I want to stay here in
Paris with the children.

Yes?

Without you.

Just for a time.

Is there someone else?

No. There's no one else.

Is that all you can think of?

All right, if there's no one else,

you must...

Stay here.

I need you.

If that were true, I would stay,

but I know that it's not.

It's that friend of yours, Genevieve...

Putting these ideas in your head.

Why is she here?

Who called her to make you
even more hysterical?

How do you know she's here?

I suppose it wouldn't make any
difference to you if I left.

People come and people go.

And you will always stay,
under all circumstances?

I stay. That's my life.

I stay.

And what a life for me and my wife,

but most people don't
even know I have a wife.

We even have a place of our own,

where he sometimes permits me
to spend a few hours.

Don't ask me what sort of a place...

what sort of a garret we can
afford on the salary he pays me.

And there are my other expenses as well,

like when he summons me to vallauris...

paying my own fare, of course,
my own train ticket.

Third class.

And his promises...

His promises.

In 1901 he painted my portrait.

He said, "this is yours,
my present to you,"

and when I asked him for it, he'd given
it away to a cabaret in Barcelona.

For 50 years he's been painting my
portrait, and always, "this is yours,"

and always I have to
remind him and beg for it.

Beg like a dog...

But still I stay.

But why?

Because if I left,

every time I came here
I'd have to ring the bell

and be admitted by some
other idiot of a sabartes

and wait just like everyone else
for my crumb of friendship.

Besides, if I'm not here,
he has to look around,

"Where the hell is sabartes?"

With me by his side...

He doesn't need to think about me.

Even Olga was lyrical and serene.

When was this?

1917.

1917.

A few years later, she's a monster.

A monster mouth,
full of jagged teeth, to bite,

and a tongue to nag and nag and nag.

Then there's dora.

What could I do about dora?

It wasn't sadism, it was, a...

A vision of hers imposed itself on me.

Only francoise the flower
woman remains herself

without being distorted.

It is she who has distorted me.

I'll show you. Look.

It is a cockerel lying bound to a table

with a knife that has
just cut its throat.

It's dripping blood into a bowl.

I am that cockerel with his throat cut...

And she is the knife.

This is her latest. She's going
to leave me, abandon me.

It's all right. I can speak
out before kahnweiler.

He's my friend.

He has feeling for me.

She's dreaming of some
mythical life of her own,

as if she could ever
have one apart from me.

You think people will care
this much for your work?

You have a schoolgirl's facility.

That's all.

The day you leave...

That day kahnweiler will
cancel his contract with you.

Because you will tell him to.

Dora.

Do you remember me?

You've changed.

I knew you would.

Picasso is an agent of change,

a catalyst to blow everything
inside you to bits.

Yes, if you let him.

This is my friend Genevieve
from montpellier.

You don't look like someone
who lives in Paris.

And you...

You look like someone

who's been breathing in the
air of Picasso's studio.

Peculiar air.

Sometimes it seems like poison gas,

but then you find you can't
breathe in any other.

That is not at all
the case with francoise.

I don't like cats,

but when my dog died, he gave me a cat.

I still have it.

It's called moumoune.

He gave it that name.

It's a very vicious cat.

Look.

He'll leave you when he's ready.

Even then, you won't be free of him,

and after him, without
him, there is nothing.

After Picasso...

Only God.

And moumoune...

That cat just won't die.

You think anyone will care
this much for you?

You have no existence apart from me.

Without me, you are nothing.

People will see you as nothing.

They'll forget you.

I'm having a heart attack.

It's your fault.

Call Paulo.

Paulo.

Why?

Why do you leave me
alone with this woman?

Look what she's done to me.

Call Dr. Gutmann.

It's too late for the doctor.

I never want to see you again.

Go! Get out!

Get... get out.

Papa, please.

Come on, for my sake.

All you need is peace and quiet.

Nothing is worth it.

No one wants another episode.

See what she's doing?

Tell her we're...
we're going to vallauris.

Tell her she can come with us.

Put jacqueline on the train.

Why don't you pick some
of your favorite toys

and put them in this basket for me?

Papa says we're going back
to vallauris today,

and he wants you and the
children to come with us.

I'll drive very carefully.

Please come.

He'd like it.

I'd like it, too.

It's not the same without you.

Claude, why don't you go
and see if the car's here?

Paulo, I only want some time to myself.

I'll bring the children
during their summer holidays.

Until then, I'm going to stay in Paris.

Let's call it an experiment.

You're lucky you can
make such an experiment.

Well, so could you if you wanted to.

What can I do?

You've heard papa say often
enough how useless I am.

Yes, I've heard him say it,

but I don't believe it,
and neither should you.

I'd drive you if he'd
let me have the car.

It's all right.

My father sent his car,

but you could help me with
these bags if you want to.

You'll come running back in a week.

You really believe that?

No one leaves a man like Picasso.

I don't think you know
the first thing about me.

Won't you say good-bye
to the children?

Mademoiselle?
Is she in the house?

Mademoiselle is not here.

But is it true she's left Picasso?

Is she staying in Paris permanently?

What about the children?

She's not in.

Wait, wait.

Hey, what's your name?

Claude.

That's a nice name,
Claude what? Claude Picasso?

Where's your mom?

Wait, wait.

No more questions!

Wait!

Didn't you say you couldn't leave him,

he's an historical monument?

Why are you and the child...

historical monument?

Are you going back to visit him?

She is taking the children
to visit their father.

Is that so difficult to understand?

4, 5, 6,

7, 8, 9, 10.

1, 2, 3,

4, 5,

6, 7, 8,

9, 10, 11,

12, 13, 14,

15.

Good. Fine.

Somebody changed these hooks.

Yes, I did,

to make it fit me.

He told me to wear it.

He said he had given it to you,

that it was a present from him.

So it was perfectly all right
for him to give it to you.

That sounds familiar.

Well, you left him.

And you stepped in very fast.

Yes,

and now I am here to look after him

to serve him with the last
breath in my body.

Be careful. He may
take you at your word.

He loves to turn his
friends into his slaves.

I don't care this much for myself.

I'm here for him, and for him alone.

I'm making a whole series,

all about a ludicrous little painter

and his gloriously beautiful young model.

He loves her. She despises him.

Why shouldn't she?

He's only an ugly old monster.

I'm giving her a pet
monkey to kiss and fondle

and make the little old
man sick with jealousy.

Doesn't it make you laugh?

Yes, it's funny.

So funny, it makes me weep.

Why should you weep?

It is I who should weep.

What wouldn't I give to be like you.

30 years old, even 40.

Settle for 40,

but in these matters, there's
no one to make a deal with.

There's been no fun
in my life since you left.

No one makes me laugh anymore.

I suppose you're having
all the fun in Paris.

Yeah.

Is someone listening?

No. Hinge needs oiling.

See, no one does anything since you left.

Why don't you come back?

I didn't call you.

I... I brought some more
kindling for the stove.

Well, leave it there.

I'll wait, monseigneur.

I'll call you when I need you.

"Monseigneur," no less?

Jacqueline treats me with proper respect.

Not like you.

For you, respect means to be your slave.

You were glad enough
to be that when you loved me.

Yes, when I loved you.

I was a slave to love, not to you.

You think you can throw
a life away just like that?

All these years.

Our cup full of memories.

That you and I have drunk together?

Francoise.

No.

All right. At least
let's be friends.

I want you to do something for me.

What is it?

I want...

if I don't stoke it now,
the stove will go out.

All right, do it, then.

Yes, they're having
a bullfight in my honor

in vallauris on the 30th, and...

I want you to perform the opening
ceremony for me on horseback.

But I don't have a
trained horse down here.

We'll find one for you in nice.

That's impossible.

Why?

Francoise mustn't ride into the arena
to open the bullfight, she can't.

Why not?

It's immoral.

What will the newspapers say?

Let the papers say what they want,

and I'll do what I want.

Of course you are right.
I was stupid.

Monseigneur.

Quiet.

On the whole, I prefer a woman
with not too much sense of humor.

Yeah..

Yeah.

This was my own
personal homage to Picasso.

Our children, our years together...

for all I'd learned from being with him.

Now, at 74, he was starting a new
life with, of course, a new woman.

But I was grateful to him for everything,

and most of all because
he had made me strong...

strong enough to do anything,

even to survive 10 years
of living with him.