Surviving Picasso (1996) - full transcript

[Man whistling]

Good morning.

Good morning.

Please.

[Chuckles]

Um...

Let's see.

Here.

Cezanne.

A masterpiece.

You like that?



No.

No?

Pointillist.

Uh, what? What?

Pointillist.

My version of it.

"Pointillist."

Pointillist.

Mmm?

They are
your parents?

No.

No.

Why, uh, do you
paint like this?

Huh?



Uh, why do you
paint like this?

Well...

Oh, I'm sorry.
That's not mine.

That's, uh, 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, uh, where
is the fruit bowl?

Ah ha-ha.

There.

Good.

Ah.

It is all,
uh, fantasy?

All fantasy
from up here.

This is also
by braque.

Matisse, Henri Matisse.

Officer: Matisse.

Uh-huh.

This...

Officer: 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?

Oh...

My wife would have
something to say to me

if I brought home
a woman like that

to hang on our wall.

Ha ha ha.

What about you?

No, I think not. No.

Man: Good evening, sir.

Good evening.

Here we are again.

Dora.

Pierre.

My friends.

Friends?
Who are they, huh?

They admire you
very much.

Of course they do.

Good.

[Chuckles]

Picasso: Ah.

Good. Yes.

Oh.

Bon soir.

Great pleasure.

Bon soir.

My dear.

Bon soir.

Ahh.

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.

Picasso: Share
the same studio?

Who's your favorite
painter?

Van gogh.

Van gogh? Yeah,
he's all right.

Yours?

I don't know.

[Clicking
with tongue]

Who are your friends?

Francoise
and Genevieve.

They're painters.

What do they paint...

Besides
their fingernails?

He's going through
his usual routine.

"Oh, 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?

[Military parade music
playing]

[Doorbell rings]

We have an appointment
to see monsieur Picasso.

He told us to come.

To see his work.

Man: "That spread
over a sky dripping
with herring,

"fished out of
a ploughed-over ocean,

broiling
under a myriad sun."

Woman:
"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."

Second man:
"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."

[Both grunting wildly]

[Actors grunting loudly]

[Laughing]

[Coughs]

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

in an orgasm
of frenetic excitement."

Ah!

"Bubbling water
scalds the lovers..."

Kind of you to spare me
the time.

Are you cold?

Hmm?

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.

[Giggles]

That's my press.

Help me.

Mmm?

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.

Picasso: Really?

Maillol is a very good
teacher for you.

When do you go back
to montpellier?

The day
after tomorrow.

Oh, 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.

Francoise:
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.

Ah!

[Laughing]

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. Huh.

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.

[Giggling]

Good?

Better?

You do it.

Hmm.

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.

Mmm.

Would you let me
do it again?

If--if you like.

No.

No, under
such conditions...

What pleasure is there
in seducing anyone?

Oh, 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...

Hmm.

Shall we do
something serious?

Yes.

Ok.

I'll show you
my etchings.

[Horns blaring]

[Cheering]

[Group chanting]
¶ liberte ¶

¶ liberte ¶

¶ liberte ¶

¶ liberte ¶

¶ liberte ¶

francoise: 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.

Francoise: Picasso's
secretary sabartes

claimed that
after the war,

tourists only came
to Europe

to see the pope,
Pompeii,

and Pablo Picasso.

Soldier: Careful, Pablo.

Photographer: Cheese.

Soldier: Yee-hee!
All right!

Francoise: 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.

[Doorbell rings]

Is grandma home?

[Automobile pulls up]

[Front door slams]

Don't you dare touch me.

Don't dare?

I dare!

I dare!

Aah! 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!

Woman: 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.

[Front door slams]

Oh.

Now, you didn't
paint the war

because you're not
that kind of painter,

but, uh, 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.

Ah, francoise!
This is monsieur kahnweiler.

He's my oldest dealer.

Kahnweiler:
Mademoiselle.

Hello.

That is to say that, uh,

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."

Picasso:
Translate it.

Kahnweiler: Oh, no, no.

Go on.

Well, if
you're too coy...

You translate it.

Kahnweiler: Good-bye,
mademoiselle.

"When you feel
like fucking, fuck."

[Picasso and sabartes
laughing]

Why are you wearing
this dress

for an engraving
lesson, hmm?

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

Oh, 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.

[Francoise giggles]

I'll come up behind,

catch you if you fall.

Don't let anyone in.

Well...

Here.

Go on.

Picasso: Nice view, huh?

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, uh,
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.

[Chuckles]

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.

Mm-mmm.

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.

Uh, 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.

Ohh.

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, eh?

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.

Francoise: 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! Shh!

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, hmm?

Not without you.

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

I'm going with you.

Picasso:
Dora's weak.

She cracked
under the strain.

Francoise:
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.

Huh?
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, huh?

Huh,
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.

[Growls]

What's the matter
with you?

An exaggerated
sense of humor.

"I don't want to go."

Mmm.

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.

Shh!

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.

Oh, 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.

Hmm.

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.

[Hooting]

[Cat meows]

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!

[Meows]

[Cat screams]

Look, look, look!

[Cat screams]

[Bugles blare]

Aah!

[Singing
LA marseillaise]

Francoise: 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.

Huh?

Thank you.

From grandma?

What does she want?

Huh?

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.

[Car horn blares]

Hey!
What are you doing?

I'm hitchhiking
to marseilles,

and from there
I'm going to Algeria.

Ha! 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.

[Water swishes]

I want you to swear

that you will
love me forever.

Swear before God.

But you don't
believe in God.

Shh! 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?

[Moans]

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.

Ha! 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.

[Bugle blaring]

Hey!

[Applause]

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.

Oh, 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, uh,

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.

Oh!

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

in 5 minutes.
Just like that.

How much?

For, ha ha.

For more than any painter
alive today.

More than Matisse?

Oh, more, more.

This is too--
this is wonderful.

You still
have this, huh?

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?

Huh, well.

Ah, ah. Huh.

How many were you
thinking of?

Uh, 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.

Uh-huh?

I like your necktie.

Oh, thank you.

Is it American?
Yes.

New York?
Uh, saks
fifth Avenue.

Oh.

Are you interested?

Am I interested?

I would...

I would
have it shipped
the moment that,

uh, 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.

Hmm?

Here.

Huh?

Oh, thank you.

Oh.

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.

Picasso:
Ok. See you
tomorrow.

Kootz:
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. Mm-hmm.

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

so, s--listen--

I'll show you
something.

Uh, 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.

[Brush stroking]

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!

[Clamor
in many languages]

What are you going
to call him? Pablo?

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

Uh, why not Pablo?
Another Pablo Picasso.

[Baby cries]

Mmm.

[Mimics crying]

Ah. 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.
[Wails]

Hold his head!

Francoise: 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.

Hmm, so soft.
Beautiful.

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

Mm-hmm.

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, hmm?

Do you like it? Huh?

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.

Shh.

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?

Mm-hmm.

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.

[Shivers]

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.

Picasso: Yeah.

When did he
start walking?

He must've been--

3 days.

15 months.

Oh, 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.

Oh, 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.

Mm-hmm.

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

Oh.

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.

Francoise: 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.

Oh!

[Grunting, struggling]

Ow! Ow!

And this.

And this.

[Laughter] 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. Oh!

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.

Picasso:
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.

Oh! That goes very well
with your trousers.

I eat caviar...

Francoise: 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.

Francoise: Olga
and Picasso were
married in 1918.

Their son Paulo
was born in 1921,

the same year
as I was.

[Shouting in French]

Paulo came in second
at the monte Carlo
rally.

Ha!
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.

Aw...

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.

Whoo!

Whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo!

[Cheering]

[Siren]

It's all right,
everything is fine--

[yelling in French]

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.

Oh, 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!

Oh. 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.

Hmm.

I should never
have married her.

I was warned,
but I didn't listen.

Out of a window?

Francoise: 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?

[Speaking in Russian]

Monsieur,
I could do something
very good for you.

Lean over here.
Let me show you.

[Speaks Russian]

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

Or would you like
a little parting,
or all?

Ha ha!

Oh, there,
a little frieze,
little bumps...

A little lace.

Oh, how beautiful...

Ohh.
Ha ha!
Oh, 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!

Oh, my dear.

How your husband
has made you suffer.

Ha ha!

[Growling]
Come on, Claudio.

Every time someone
annoys your mother,

you go, [Grunts]

Pa-pa...

[Baby talk]

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--oh--
eternally packing

and unpacking
all the time.

I'm not fighting
over you.

[Baby talk]

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.

Ohh...

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...

Francoise: 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?

Oh, 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.

Francoise: 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."

And he always told me:
"Don't try to be Picasso.

Be yourself."

Kahnweiler: 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.

Oh, the, uh,
news from America
is not so good.

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

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!

[Speaking
Russian]

...Picasso.

Picasso! Picasso!
Picasso! Picasso!

Thank you.

Francoise: 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...

Francoise: They
hated his art,

but they loved his name

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

Interpreter:
...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.

[Shouting
in Russian]

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!

[Applause]

Picasso!

[Whistling]

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?

[Sighs]

Look...

I bought it for you.

Here you are.

Open it.

Olá.

Put it on.

Ahh...

Francoise: 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.

[Cooing]

[Cooing]

Francoise: 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.

[Pablo coos]

Claude.

Look.

Look.

Where are we going?

Look.

Francoise: 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.

Pablo: 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?

Hmm?

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?

Francoise: 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."

Pablo: Henri, Lydia...

This is francoise.

Monsieur Matisse.

Hello.

These are very
special dates
from Madagascar.

Take one.

Oh, 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, hmm?

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.

Hmm.

[Kisses]

My own swimming pool.

You like to swim?

Ha ha ha!

Francoise: We went to see
your chapel in vence.

Oh. 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, uh...

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.

Matisse: 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!

Ha ha ha!

Matisse: 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?

Ha. You think
he likes me?

Monsieur Matisse
loves you, monsieur.

Go get the idol
tomorrow, then.

This time,
we double the stakes.

[Speaking
French]

Hey, hey, hey, hey!

I've already
dealt the cards.

Well, I told you
to wait for me.

Double the stakes,
by the way.

Ha ha ha!

Hey!

How do you
like my woman?

You're jealous now, huh?

What did you say?!

She wants to
sleep with me!

You haven't slept
with a real chauffeur?

Wha-ha-ha!

She's a good
driver, huh?

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!

Oh, 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.

Francoise: 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.

Picasso: 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.

[Grr]

[Grr]

[Grr]

[Laughter]

Aah!

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, huh?

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.

Francoise:
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.

[Plays horn badly]

[Applause]

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?

Oh!

Uhh!

Ha ha ha!
Ha ha ha!

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!

Ha ha ha.

[Telephone rings]

[Ring]

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.

Operator: I'm sorry,

but the number
you dialed
has been disconnected.

Man: 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.

Oh, I'm so sorry.
I had no idea.

Good-bye.

Francoise: 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!

Oh!

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...

[Speaking
foreign language]

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

Those?

[Footsteps]

Papa!

What are you
doing here? Hey.

Hey, where's
your mother?

Where is she? Mmm!

Where's your mother?

What are they
doing up here, huh?

Pablo: Francoise?

Why have you
come here to Paris?

Who's there
to supervise Pierre

and everything else
I told you to do?

Hmm?

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,

[imitating picasso]
"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.

Ah, 1917.

A few years later,
she's a monster.

Picasso: 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, hmm?

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

A vision of hers
imposed itself on me.

[Footsteps]

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?

Ah, 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.

[Sobbing]

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.

Paulo:
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?

Man: 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!

[Reporters yelling]

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?

Picasso: 4, 5, 6,

7, 8, 9, 10.

1, 2, 3,

4, 5,

6, 7, 8,

9, 10, 11,

12, 13, 14,

15, ha ha ha.

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.

Mmm.

Yeah.

[Squeaking]

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?

Hmm? All these years.

Our cup full of memories.

Francoise:
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.

Picasso: All right,
do it, then.

Yes, they're having
a bullfight in my honor

in vallauris
on the 30th, and, uh...

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.

Huh, 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.

[Whispering]
Monseigneur.

Quiet.

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

Yeah.
Oh.

Yeah.

Francoise: This was my own
personal homage to Picasso

for all that he had
given me: 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.