Helene (2020) - full transcript

Can we proceed a bit faster?

I don't particularly
enjoy interviews.

I understand.

But why?

The interviewers
make mistakes so easily.

Whatever you say,
you might offend someone.

You've remained outside
artistic circles for over ten years.

Don't write too much about me.

I'm very reserved.

I've spoken so much
without considering my words.

How would you
explain your works?



Why have you painted
war and poverty?

Those are not...

...appropriate subjects
for a female artist.

When artists work,

they never think about
explaining their works.

Inspiration simultaneously
stems from within

and beyond the artist.

And I don't like being
labelled as a female artist.

I'm an artist.

They didn't accept my work
for the Ateneum art raffle.

Not even for a raffle,
for 100 marks!

Come meet me
as soon as you can, Wester.

I miss your company,
my dear friend.

Dear Helene,
don't aim to please others.



Work for your own pleasure
and you're free to do what you want.

I'll come round next week,
and I have a surprise for you.

Your friend,
Helena Westermarck.

I look handsome in it, don't I?

The devil himself
would be scared of that.

I'd like to buy this.

With the League of
Finnish Feminists' money.

Bring me salted herrings
and a schnapps.

Where did the idea
for silver foil come from?

It's a Japanese invention.
I stole it.

- Good.
- No need to pretend you like it.

I know. That's why
I'm not buying it for myself.

Wait until you see
what I brought you.

It's on loan from Ateneum.

It's on its way to Florence.

Overpainting again.

Like a sculpted wolf.

- A very handsome man.
- He is.

Very good.

We've run out of
coffee and sugar.

But we still have soap.

I stood in the queue for three hours.

How about biscuits?
It's my mother's name day.

I can sell you some of my own.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.

I'll let the neighbour's boy queue
so I can paint in daylight.

Evening chores.

You sure know
how to make me happy.

A self-portrait is always
an impossible challenge.

Like painting
a boring sky dotted with stars.

Why am I so lousy?

Always painting
my own wretched face.

Good day.

Hello. We're looking for
the artist Helene Schjerfbeck.

That way.

Gösta Stenman, art dealer.
Are the house owners in?

You're Helene Schjerfbeck.

Einar Reuter.

- What do you want?
- I came here to buy paintings.

I don't have anything to sell.

All artists do.

Where are the...
Oh, here they are.

Right, right.

Don't you have
any paintings on the walls?

- We keep our walls clean.
- I see.

I have hung some
on the walls of my studio.

Charcoal drawings.

Okay, let's have a look.

My son Magnus has already
tried selling some of them.

- They were all returned to us.
- That's curious.

I've managed to sell
all the paintings I've bought.

Einar here owns a few as well.

The Woodcutter, Sisters,
and a landscape from Gausdal.

I find them highly impressive.

I haven't sold the ones
I've wanted to keep for myself.

Two of Helene's works.

Why are you here?

Maria Wiik recommended you.

And Einar convinced me.

He's your admirer.

You don't embellish things.

You paint people
in all their ugliness.

At times
your brushwork is almost...

...sketch-like.

When you look at all the details.

Are you going to buy something?

All of them!

Well, the price...

The price is 50 marks per piece.

You'll regret this.

So I'll add in a 10 per
cent sales commission.

Yes.

You are...

...an extraordinarily gifted artist.

Einar and I will make sure...

...that other people
see that as well.

Good day.

Men have the meat first.

Don't be shy.

Today went well.

We might become rich.

Thanks to you.

300 marks!

300 marks, going once.

300 marks, going twice.

And 300 marks,
going three times.

Sold to this gentleman.

It's not too bad.

It would be easier
without the paintings.

Just blank walls
to imagine something on.

I don't like this light.
Could you kindly help me?

Move.

Is it uncomfortable
to look at your own works?

They're clumsy.

Especially in this light.

I could stay the night
and fix the worst mistakes

before the exhibition
opens again.

You're right.

Let's go get the painting tools.
I'll keep you company.

Who are you again?

Forester, writer,
a self-learned painter.

In fact, the original idea
for the exhibition came from him.

Gösta, I'm not happy with the light.

- Can you open them slightly?
- Let's start here in an hour.

Stop.

The other side.

Good.

Slightly more.

Would you like a coffee?

Why not.

Have you never been here before?

I haven't been to
Helsinki in 15 years.

But I used to
practically live in cafes

with Ada, Maria, and Wester.

I was under the impression
you enjoy cities.

Paris.

Paris is dirty.

- You loathe Paris?
- I love it.

I love Paris precisely
because it's so dirty.

The smell is so peculiar.
It smells of hot stone,

rotten flowers, and
unwashed skin at the same time.

I'm not sure if you're talking
about cities or art.

To me, cities are states of emotion.

They're queuing to get there.

The exhibition is a success.

Haven't you read the papers?

No.

And I won't.

My head is heavy
with stress as it is.

Colours have a life of
their own in my mind.

There are periods when
I can't stand certain colours.

- Is that so?
- At one point I hated purple.

Now I can accept it.

How about beige?
You use it a lot.

True. But it's my stumbling block.

I only use it in backgrounds.

I find it almost impossible
to paint a person dressed in beige.

How about ochre, cobalt,
and charcoal black?

My favourite colours.

I know.

I saw it in an
interview of yours.

Could I come and
watch you paint some day?

It would be an honour.

We do have the occasional visitor,
so why not.

Bring painting tools with you.
We can paint together.

All right.

Thank you.

Soldiers. Forward, march.

- What a surprise.
- Magnus has something to tell you.

The 10,000 mark commission from the
last exhibition belongs to the heirs.

It will be divided
between us family members.

No. I'm the one
who painted the pieces.

Not the heirs.

I don't get anything
from the houses you draw.

That's just how it is.
I don't make the rules.

The heirs own women's works.

Magnus could keep all
the money if he wanted to.

It makes us look bad.
Understand?

The things they come up with...

I won't allow it.

People are going to talk.

We're in a civil war,
everything's being watched.

What are you doing here?

Whatever.

Mostly thinking about
what I'd like to paint next.

And what are you doing here?

It's a nice gesture to apologise
to your brother this way.

Where did you find that painting?

I can check the shelves, too.

Are you stealing it?

Shit.

Is it lead?

Nothing else will do.

White lead and rabbit-skin glue.

Yes. And silence.

Come here.

Now we'll plant this.

Orchids would look nice
next to your paintings.

- So let's plant it.
- Let's go.

''If I should needs die with thee,
I will in no wise deny thee.''

That's how the Haparanda
lay preachers speak.

All right.

My family has a villa in Tammisaari.

Would you like to go with me
and paint there?

- To Tammisaari?
- Yes.

Thank you.

Can I paint you?

What?

I'd like to paint you.

Just as you are.

Looking like a sailor.

Stay still.

I've been here for six hours.

Good. Only ten left.

Knife.

Couldn't find an axe.

Come.

Take it.

Rub it gently.

Never through the rabbit-skin glue.

- You mustn't break it.
- No.

Closer still.

Add some more viridian.

It gives the skin a beautiful glow.

Take the hat off.

It dominates the picture.

Stand still.

Thank you.

I'd like to talk about
what happened in Tammisaari.

What about it?

Nothing.

- When are you going to Lapland again?
- Tomorrow.

We can talk about Tammisaari.

No need.

How long will you stay?

Three weeks at most.

I have forest-related
business in Tornio.

Let's write each other letters.

But only one each.

Why one?

That way they will be unique.

Strange.

I'm guessing
you're just a lazy writer.

No, I'm not.

Or, well...

Prove me that you're not.

Write me a long letter.

Fine. But just one.

It better be lengthy.

Are you sad?

What?

You look so sad when you smile.

No... I don't know, maybe.

What's the matter?

All artists are sad.

Even the happy ones.

This profiteering makes me sick.

Helsinki is a madhouse these days.

A constant stream of visitors
who discuss nothing but politics.

It's all shit.

The war is over.

But the League of Finnish Feminists
is making no progress.

Suffrage and things like that.

I'm growing weary
and turning into a stinging nettle.

You've always been
a stinging nettle.

Einar still hasn't written me.

Aren't my letters good enough?

Einar is still young.

We all draw strength
from our childhood,

no matter what it was like.

Usually it's bleak.

I wonder how many people
will attend my funeral.

Aren't you being
a bit overdramatic?

Not very many.

I can't stand it
when people disappoint me.

Any other subjects?

There's a bloody big lump
in the sole of my foot.

Luckily it didn't
turn into a boil.

- Want to see it?
- No.

My train will depart soon.

See you soon.

I can't find one.

- What kind are you looking for?
- A perfect one.

We've been here for three hours.

Good. So we still have time.

Same old jokes.

This is it.

Focus, Einar.

Haven't you bought one of my
landscape paintings of Gausdal?

Go there and do
your own version.

To Norway?

Why?

Because I want you to.

I'd like to stay here
and paint with you.

I have money.
Consider it a scholarship.

I want... I demand you to experience
what I've already experienced.

You need to experience it alone.

I can't wait to hear
what you think of Skei.

It's a beautiful place, Einar.

I don't feel like going right now.

It's a beautiful gesture.

Don't say no.

We'll continue when you return.

I'll think about it.

I'm going to miss you.

- Maybe something's happened to him.
- It's only been a week.

Two weeks.

He promised to write every day.

No letters last week either
although I sent him eight.

Calm down.

Paid a trip like that
from the little you have...

Women in our house
don't cry over men.

We're strong and dignified.

Obviously.

Evening chores.

Not today.

Dear Wester,

I find it hard to sleep.

I have painful, colourful dreams,
perhaps nightmares.

It's all because
I'm worried about Einar.

He's given me strength.

He's given me courage
for the last two years.

Now I miss him.

When he returns,
I will admit everything.

I shall lay everything bare.

Well?

It's from Einar.

What is it?

- What is it?
- Wait.

- Helene, open the door.
- Don't come in here.

Stay away!

Open the door, Helene.

Let me in. Helene!

Helene, open this door.

Open the door.

Helene.

Don't come in here.

Stay away.

What a beautiful girl.

It is clear that everyone
who's close to being forty

wants a family.

What about me?

What does that make me?

Where is my family?

You didn't really think...

He is so young.

You trust everyone.

Don't interfere
with my life again.

Do you believe me
when I say that I'll destroy you

if you do that?

Do you believe me?

Do you?

Do you?

I do.

You do.

The sanatorium is
just as unique as you said.

Gausdal is enchanting.

I have met Tyra.

Tyra Arp is 18 years old.

We are engaged.

Helene Schjerfbeck.

The diagnosis is heart symptoms.

Nothing too serious.
A shattered or...

...a broken heart.

I...

It's time for me to go.

See you later.

Just rest, sister.

The world will wait for you.

I'll take care of you.

I promise.

I came to read you poems.

Whoever has books,
can escape every day

to the dwelling places
of great spirits.

Let's start with Eino Leino.

The Book of Liberty.

Young is my land.

Young am I as well.

Early came the morning for us both.

We saw the day dawning
over the mountains.

We climbed and rushed towards it.

What are you looking at?

The sea.

Don't you want to paint anymore?

Painting is secondary right now.

I will study you.

Why?

Because of that.

I want to write a book
about your art.

On one condition.

What is it?

I want to paint you.

When?

I'll let you know.

...and rushed towards it...

Wester.

No books.

Next time I'll bring Selma Lagerlöf.

No, nothing.

But if you could stay a while.

Good.

Don't look at me.

Why not?

I can't draw you
if you look directly at me.

Did she get my letters?

Helene is still sick.

It's hard to evaluate her feelings.

I don't even let
Magnus enter her room.

I don't know what to say.

You don't have to say anything.

Come back
when she is healthy again.

Enjoy your fiancée.

- Does the doctor visit every day?
- No.

You can't just keep her in bed
without a doctor.

It's time to go, boy.

I'm sorry.

Is there anything else...

...we could do?

What do you suggest?

I'm not stupid, Einar.
I hope neither are you.

Believe me, I do my best.

It's time for you to leave.

There is just so much to say.

Would you give her
the flowers at least?

Sometimes the pain feels like
an electric needle in my stomach.

Here is a pen
and some paper for the night.

Draw when it hurts.

The flowers are beautiful.

Thank you.

Do you think
it's time to go home?

Stay as long as you want.

Remember what you wrote to me
after I broke up with Jean?

You said
''When you rise again,

be hard and clear like metal.''

Dear Helene.

It's difficult to put
my thoughts into words.

I plan to return to Helsinki.

I would like to meet you.

They wouldn't let me see you
at the hospital.

It was harrowing.

The book is coming along well.

You'll get the first draft
in the summer.

Your friend forever, Einar.

I'm glad you came.

I came because I had to.

I feel much better.

Helsinki Art Society's spring display
featured nine of your works.

Gösta markets me
as crippled and weak.

It sells,
although it is unpleasant.

I'm glad if it works.

Stenman sold the Costume Picture
to the Art Society.

Your third work in Ateneum.

Yes, I heard.

I've started painting again.

Good.

Mother will have
a beautiful birthday.

- There will be four of us.
- Who are coming?

You, I, and two biscuits.

Why do you even paint, Helene?

You could utilise your manual skills

and sell rya rug designs
to crafty women.

- There are too many painters.
- That's not true.

- Finland's most popular female artist.
- But the money goes to other people.

The new tenth rule
of bohemianism:

You must end your own life.

Or not.

Stop, mother. Please.

I'm just getting back on my feet.

I already invited him.

Einar comes the day after tomorrow.

It's too soon.

Einar has bought a car.

- He will drive here himself.
- No.

I wanted to help.

Sincerely.

Let's make a dress.

Come in!

May I introduce
my fiancée, Tyra Arp.

Good day.

This is an honour.

See you soon.

She's your relative.

Yes, but Tyra is not closely related.

She's always been so tiny.

Did you see the picture of Tyra
that I sent you?

I'd rather not hear more.

What about the fells of Gausdal?

They'll be forever yours and mine.

They belong to all artists.

Your friendship is very dear to me.

- I don't want to lose it.
- Let it rest.

Perhaps I should go.

Thanks for the coffee.

Your kindness makes this
quite tolerable.

Trust me, your friendship
is very dear to me.

I do not wish to see you again.

What do you want me to do?

End my suffering.

Leave.

Einar.

I apologise.
I was unreasonable.

Write to me whenever you can.

I would appreciate it.

For one single moment,

this was mine.

You were mine.

You were sad then, but I think
it was my greatest happiness.

The physical love I got,

it was not of the highest kind.

It fades away.

Loneliness towers over me,
embraces me.

This is for you, Einar.

I wanted to thank you for everything.

Best regards, Helene Schjerfbeck.

Stop pretending.

The fact is that
you don't care about me.

I take care of you.

This is not about you.

Is that how it is now?

You never do chores,
and I sit here idly as a model.

You refused to live
with Magnus and Betty.

Mother and daughter belong together.

You never loved me
like you loved Magnus.

Insufferable.

An unfit mother. A hypocrite.

Very well.

I'll go live with Magnus and Betty.

That's what you've always wanted.

Then you will have
more room to paint.

Einar and you.

Leave.

Go.

Helene!

Let's get you away from the cold.

I'll close the windows.

Helene.

I am not a very strong man,

but I can open this door with an axe.

Helene, where's the axe?

There's no need.

I just don't want you to see me.

''It seems strange
that a woman in her old days

can still achieve
such magnificent things.''

''In her old days?''

Who are they writing about?

I'm sorry,
and I disagree with that phrase.

But if we are broad-minded
and ignore the indiscretion,

what do you think?

''These achievements,

compared to any artist
in the world,

are completely exceptional.''

That sounds better.

Sounds like an exaggeration.

Come help me with the firewood.
It's cold in here.

So what do you say?

Next autumn in Stockholm.

- Will anyone be interested?
- We'll see.

A new exhibition would be beneficial.

It is quite clear I can't.

It will cheer you up.

Have you even seen my latest work?

Thank you for your help.

You smell sour just like before.

And what is this?

Such an ugly girl.

Who would want to look at this,
let alone buy it?

She may be ugly,
but she's full of spirit and fire.

''Buy this, buy this.
It's ugly but modern.''

- Full of fire...
- I abandoned realism ages ago.

Life alters me.

Perhaps makes me stronger.

You paint unsellable pictures
out of spite.

- Not even your brother wants them.
- Quiet, or you'll end up homeless.

Magnus doesn't want you.
I take you out of kindness.

Drink, mother.

- Shirt...
- What?

Magnus's shirt.

Almighty, eternal God,
the father of our lord, Jesus Christ,

your compassion
rests on all your creation.

Have mercy on this poor...

Why isn't the provost here?

Who on earth is that man...

Let's move mother downstairs.
There's more room.

Three girls they killed
in order to see.

What was hidden
inside those hearts so wee.

The first was full of joy.

Blood squirted on the ground,
and look.

From the dew, three...

Dear Wester,

I must confess

something about my mother and me.

For decades,
we had shouted to each other

as if from separate islands.

There she lies now, voiceless,
on her own island.

But was she

merely my valuable tormentor...

...or the ultimate obstacle
to my success.

Go say your goodbyes. Mother is clean
and in burial clothes.

I wanted to paint a picture that'd
force the viewers on their knees.

The mouth is mute,
emphasising the silence.

Finally!

I'll see Einar tomorrow.

Really?

Yes.

This is for Gösta.

To thank him for everything.

Helene, I'd like to talk.

Talk.

I've made mistakes.

Mistakes?

Wrong choices.

Everyone makes mistakes.

Perhaps my engagement
was a bit hasty.

What I want to say is...

You are
the most significant artist...

The most significant person I know.

Thank you.

The Convalescent is being called
''Ateneum's only gem'' again.

Is that so?

They say I'm not genuine.

That my rhythm on canvas is
violent and convulsing.

And they are right.

That is who I am.

I could visit you.

It would be kind of you.

I'm very touched by your attention.

Thank you.

I'd like to ask you
to join us for dinner.

Would it be possible?

Yes, that's fine.

Go on, Tyra. You can do it.

I always saw Einar's naked back
as I was painting him.

Why didn't he understand
how to read my emotions?

Or...

Perhaps he misunderstood.

On the other hand...
Now I am curious again.

Curious.

I understand it now.

Dreams hold hands with time
and run away from us, step by step.

Until they disappear
into the horizon.

And we forget.

We forget what we were trying
to reach our whole lives.

Finally, all that is left
is pure, white paper.

Then we'll find rapture.

THE FINNISH SWEDE HELENE SCHJERFBECK
DIED ON 23/1/1946 AT AGE 83.

SHE NEVER MARRIED.

HELENE AND EINAR REUTER
REMAINED CLOSE FRIENDS.

THEY WROTE OVER 1,100 LETTERS
AND POSTCARDS TO EACH OTHER.

English translation:
Samuli Kauppila & Maarit Tulkki.

Saga Vera Oy