Genius (2017–…): Season 2, Episode 3 - Picasso: Chapter Three - full transcript

Previously on Genius...

Picaso and I, we are the future.

I wish I had a place like this.

But you can work here if you want.

I could give you 150
francs every month.

In return, I own
everything you produce.

To Picasso.

To Picasso!

I am in love with Germaine.

I'm not in love with you.

Why, why not?



Because you cannot satisfy me!

Carles, wait!

You cannot go back to Paris.

No, I'm going back to Barcelona.

Carles, no, no...

It's my fault. I should
never have believed him.

She's his mistress?

How many does he have?

How many women has he painted?

So you're finished with Dora?

Of course not. She's brilliant.

I can't remember the last time she
made me want to pick up a brush.

I need something new.

I want to be a painter.



You will become a lawyer.

Matisse is the
greatest painter in the world.

But Picasso is much better-looking.

We're having a
joint exhibition at a very

well-respected gallery.

You must come and visit me
sometime. To see some of my work.

You are going to
paint her, aren't you?

You are my wife, you
will do what I tell you to...

Get away from me!

No...

That's all I have.

Is it enough to get me to Paris?

Bastards.

Yes, charming, aren't they?

Well, no one can charm you, Francoise.

Except perhaps a
certain Spanish painter.

He probably won't even remember us.

Maybe not me, but he
certainly hasn't forgotten you.

Good afternoon.

We've come to see Monsieur Picasso.

Of course you have.

Oh. What a surprise.

We thought you would be expecting us.

Yes. Days ago.

We've been busy with
our show. You should come.

You mentioned you
might show us some of your art.

It would be a thrill for us.

Uh, no.

I, if you want to see
art, you go to a gallery,

an exhibition, a museum.

Mm, you go to the Louvre.

Well, it seems
we've disturbed you after all.

Ah.
Well, it seems
we've disturbed you after all.

Ah.

Thank you for the invitation.
Ah.

Thank you for the invitation.

You're welcome to return, of course.

But if you do, don't come like
the worshipers to the Holy Land.

Come because you want to see me.

Apparently they are
having some kind of a show.

Find out where it is.

The artist's name is Francoise Gilot.

She's a most intriguing
young discovery.

Don't you agree, Monsieur Picasso?

Thank you for
allowing me to work here.

No money for models?

No, but the real world is a
better subject for art, anyway.

Christ is the
only real subject for art.

What you do they sell
in alleys to perverts.

But it is not my business.

I must warn you.

The whores wearing the bonnets...

Have syphilis. I know.

Yes, well.

Best to keep your distance.

Will you paint me without the bonnet?

I don't want anyone
seeing me like this.

What if I paint you
in a beautiful white veil?

No one wants to buy
pictures of dying whores!

I make the art, you sell it.

If you can't, that's your problem.

I thought you
were headed for greatness.
If you can't, that's your problem.

I thought you
were headed for greatness.

Why else would I dole out
money to you every month?
I thought you
were headed for greatness.

Why else would I dole out
money to you every month?

I'm painting, aren't I?

Blue hags and corpses!

Van Gogh and Lautrec...

Paint flowers, show girls,

anything people can eat dinner under
without losing their appetite.

I can only paint what I feel.

No one else wants to feel like that.

You look like you're the one
who died, for Christ's sake.

My closest friend
put a bullet in his brain.

Yes. It's terrible.

But you must learn to separate
your life from your art.

I can't!

Then find someone else
to tell your sad stories to

because I'm done with it.

Germaine.

Pablo.

I should have tried harder.

It wasn't your fault.

I shouldn't have believed him.

I knew he hadn't really let you go.

But I never thought he'd...

It was horrible.

Blood all over the walls.

Manuel told me that Carles...

I moved just the
second before the bullet hit.

Now I feel like his
ghost is following me.

I know.

I've tried to paint other
things, other people,

but every face...

Every face becomes his.

You are the only one who understands.

You don't have to run off.

I can't go back to Manach.

I need to find new lodgings.

You're welcome to
stay here as long as you want.

It's nice not to feel so lonely.

How could we have done this?

It's what we both needed.

What about what Carles needed?

He adored you.

But it was so suffocating...

Because he worshipped you!

Why couldn't you just have loved him?

You think I don't
ask myself that every day?

Germaine I, I...

You've said enough.

You should go.

Another coffee, Mademoiselle?

No.

Put it on my bill, Lucien.

And bring her a bowl of soup.

Thank you. I'm not hungry.

Oh, well, next you're
gonna tell me you're not cold,

but I've been watching
you shiver for half an hour.

May I join you?

My husband would not approve.

Ah.

Is he the one who gave you
that charming little memento?

Please.

I don't accept charity.

Are you looking for work, then.

Yes.

As it happens, I could offer you work.

As a model. I'm a sculptor.

I don't do that sort of thing.

What don't you do?

Sit on a stool while
someone stares at you?

You're doing it right now.

Perhaps.

But I have my clothes on.

My name is Laurent.

In case you reconsider.

Paris gets, uh, horribly
cold in the winter.

It is fascinating.

Who is the artist?

He calls himself Picasso.

He had his own show
here a few months ago.

Do you have more of his paintings?

Unfortunately, he has not brought

me anything worth showing in months.

But I can offer you a
good price on this one.

Well, I'm not usually inclined to, uh,

begin collecting an artist until I
am more familiar with his work.

Do you know where I might find him?

Pardon me.

I am looking for Monsieur Picasso.

If I owe you money...

No, no!

Uh, nothing of the sort, uh,
Monsieur Vollard only had one

of your paintings in his gallery,

and I was hoping that you
might show me some more.

I am Max Jacob.

Uh, please, come in.

I shipped several of my
paintings back to Barcelona

but I do have many works here.

Um, give me a moment, I, I
wasn't expecting a collector.

Oh, no, I. No, no. No, no...

I am afraid you've misunderstood.

I am not a collector.

What are you, then?

Well, m-most days, I am a poet.

A poet?

Ouais.

Oh, that's even
worse than being a painter.

So, why are you here?

To retreat from the banal.

To bask in the brutal
beauty of existence...

mortality.

Everyone hates them.

I think they are extraordinary.

I may not be able to
afford a painting,

but at least let me buy you a meal.

What if Vollard is right?

I had one chance to make
something of myself.

What if it's all over?

Mm, give me your hand.

Why?

Because I am a mystic of all trades.

A poet, a critic and...

A fortune teller.

Oh, a glowing childhood.

Oh, but life will bring sorrow.

Oh, what is wrong?

What if you tell me I'm about to die?

Pablo, no one can escape death.

But I can see in your eyes you
want to know what lies ahead

even as much as you fear it.

Yeah, hmm?

Ah, this is promising.

By the time you are 30, you
will have a very big fortune.

And this line, that tells us
that love will play a great

role in your art.

Perhaps too great.

What did he think?

No one knows. Madame
Beaureande said he walked through,

looked at each painting,
yours much longer then mine,

then walked out.

And he didn't say a word?

He's interested in you.

If he was interested in my work,
He's interested in you.

If he was interested in my work,

he would have said something.

Francoise, a door is opening for you.

Go through it.

You have a guest.

Well, whoever it
is, just send them away.

Very well, I shall
tell Mademoiselle Gilot that

the "Great Picasso" is
too busy to see her.

For you.

I can't tell where the
petals end and the dress begins.

Just so you know, I came to see you.

Not your paintings.

Then, by all means,
let's go and see my paintings.

Who's she?

Dora Maar.

The woman you were
dining with the night we met?

Mm-hmm.

I wouldn't have known it was her.

Though you saw
her once, across a room.

An artist must always
see below the surface.

This one.

This one is enchanting.

The, the colors, the immediacy...

That's a Matisse.

Forgive me.

Ah, no, not many
people have the courage to

tell me what they really think.

Don't apologize for it.

Are you going to tell me
what you thought of my paintings?

Oh, there it is.
The real reason you came.

- No, I... Yes.
- You want the truth?

You have talent.

I think you should continue to paint.

You are lying to yourself.

Huh.

Pretending to show
interest in this girl's art

because the bloom is
off one muse and you have

decided to pluck another.

You're just jealous.

I'm also right.

You want to paint something new,

and you think getting
this young girl into bed

will help you do that.

But you really think she wants
to wake up next to an old man?

Like you?

But I am not too
old to make you beg for more,

now am I?

- Emile.
- Hmm?

When are you
going to Francoise's show?
- Emile.
- Hmm?

When are you
going to Francoise's show?

Art is a pastime.

One that I've allowed
Francoise to indulge in.

But now that there is an end in
sight to this godforsaken war,

you must resume your
studies, Francoise.

If you would just
go and look at what I've done,

you would see that
I'm a serious artist.

Hmm. Haven't I made myself clear?

You're not going to be an artist.

Pablo Picasso thinks I'm one already.

Oh, and how do you know that?

He came to see the exhibition.

And invited me to his studio.

And you think it's because
he is interested in your art?

Is that so hard to believe?

Everyone knows the man is a lecher.

If he has any interest
in you at all, Francoise,

it lies between your
napkin and your chair.

Emile!

The Nazis are right about him.

He's a degenerate.

You're siding with the Nazis now?

Picasso will ruin you.

I forbid you to ever see him again.

Good afternoon, Monsieur.

A pleasure to see you again.
Mademoiselle?

- Fernande.
- Oh.

Are you still in need of a model?

Come in.

My, you can see everything.

Oh, but it's quite good. Really.

Unfortunately in Paris,

"quite good" isn't good enough.

But maybe your arrival on my
doorstep is a divine intervention.

I only came here for a wage.

I'm not able to pay
you at the moment, but, um,

if you're in need of a bed...

I'm so stupid.

No, no, no, no, no.

I, it's not what I meant.

It would simply be
a way of paying you.

I would sleep on the settee.

And you have food?

Bread, coffee?

I live a-a meager existence,

not an uncivilized one.

Where would you like me?

Stand over there,
and take off your clothes.

You only have one bed.

Well, I write all
night, sleep all day.

So, we take shifts.

It's, uh, primitive, but,
uh, it's warm, it's clean,

and you can't afford
where you're living now.

I'm not looking for charity.

Uh-uh, but I told you,
you are going to be rich.

So, you will pay me back.

You need a new place
to paint what you want.

A new life, new inspiration.

So. What do you say?

And when I try to shrug
away my decrepitude and, uh,

populate the night with my shrill cry,

I hear the death-cough of mortality,

choked under corpses
in a lake of blood...

My unhinging effort to die.

Poe?

No. Baudelaire.

Aw, don't make me take
this journey alone tonight.

I saw how that
journey ended for Carles.

No, that was opium! Ether, is...

Mmm, an entirely different magic.

It is, it is like, uh...

Oh, dreaming when you are awake.

Such beauty.

Ah, and then it is like trying
to catch a smoke in your hand.

Read me another poem.

If that which I love
weighs upon my wound,

it pains it.

If it weighs only upon summer,
it's the field that suffers.

What will feed summer and my
love if not that sorrow since

my love and summer can
no longer feed on joy?

Baudelaire again?

Mm, no, Max Jacob.

You wrote that?

- Yes.
- Oh, it's beautiful.

Eh, you think so?

Yes, sounds like
you've fallen very hard.

Who is "my love?"

Uh, someone I have not met yet.

You're soaked.

I want to show you something. Come.

It's a lovely view.

Yes, it is.

You didn't kiss me back.

But you didn't shy away either.

You're a confusing young woman.

I should probably go.

No, no, no, no.

Hey, you came to show me your art.

So, show me your art.

Her nose is broad like a sailor's.

The colors are confusing.

Fingers so tangled, all eight of them.

I was hoping you would
tell me how to improve it.

Just admit it.

You are not here for me at all.

You just want me to help you.

You told me I had promise.

Well, it takes more
than promise to be an artist.

Because the only way
to be a true artist is to

work day and night.

Lose yourself in it.

Completely.

Do you have any idea
how lonely that is?

And yet, without great solitude,

no serious work is possible.

I'm sorry, I didn't...

You want advice?

I'll give it to you.

The ugly truth is this,
no one can help you.

You have to do it on your own.

Just as I did.

Is she here?

No.

It's all right, Grandma.

What is the meaning of this?

I'm not going to law school.

Oh, so you can
dedicate your life to art?

And waste what I have given you?

I put my thoughts on paper because

I knew you wouldn't listen.

This is not how I raised you.

This is exactly how you raised me.

To stand up for myself.

I warned you to
stay away from Picasso.

This is his influence.

It's got nothing to do with him.

It's what I want.

Not while I'm supporting you.

No!

Emile!

Oh!

Emile! Stop, get out, oh...

Don't expect another centime from me.

You are both on your own now.

I hope I haven't
made a terrible mistake.

You fought for your freedom.

Don't look back.

But, without your father's money,

I cannot offer you much more
than a shoulder to lean on.

You will have to find a
way to support yourself.

- Mademoiselle Gilot,
I didn't know you were

coming to ride today.

I, um, I haven't come to ride, I...

I've come for a job.

Sorry, my neck.

I need a few minutes.

Why put that back on?

Because it's cold,
if you haven't noticed under

your wool shirt.

You said you wouldn't ask for that.

But that was before
I've been staring at your

lovely breasts for days on end.

That wasn't our agreement.

If you don't like it, leave.

It's like he punched a
hole right through my heart.

No. No, that hole already existed.

Puccini just reminded
you that it was there.

It's unfair.

He has, he has so many
notes, voices, instruments,

to make his music.

All I have are canvases
and a few colors.

You are every bit
the artist that he is.

When I look at your
paintings, I feel such...

intensity that...

Uh. I, I need a release.

Don't you?

It will make you feel so much better.

Pablo, what, what are you doing?
Get down!

I know why... I know why Carles

did it now. He just wanted to escape.

From his broken heart,
his, his failure...

That, that, that is just the,

the ether whispering in
your ear, do not listen.

You are on a path,
holding on to someone's hand,

going someplace glorious.

And then the hand just slips away.

Suddenly, you're on the edge,
with no one to hold on to.

I, I will, I will hold on to you.

You feel yourself...

Falling.

If you take a step, then so will I.

Why would you do that?

Because I, I cannot
bear the thought of living

in this world without you.

Did you get lost on
your way to the Champs Elysees?

Here I thought
you'd been walled up somewhere

painting a masterpiece.

I don't have time to paint.

Wasn't that the whole
point getting away from your father?

I don't have much of a choice.

Picasso could help you.

He's rich.

He can get your work noticed.

I'm not sure it's
my work he's interested in.

Give him what he wants. I would.

You like him, don't you?

I suppose, but...

But what?

He may be old, but he still
has women lining up for him.

He must be doing something right.

Francoise, you can't
stay a virgin forever.

How is your new girlfriend?

As a matter of fact,
I haven't seen her in weeks.

Don't tell me Pablo
Picasso has been rejected

by a little girl.

Hmm.

Don't worry, she'll soften.

They always do.

In six months, you'll be
painting her like a horse, too.

I'm trying to work. Huh?

I got a letter from Max.

How is the stubborn old dog?

Refusing to leave
his little sanctuary,

convinced no harm can come to him,

even though they have sent the
rest of his family to the camps.

Go see him, Pablo.

You are the only one
who can persuade him to

get out before it's too late.

You've been at that for hours.

Why don't you rest?

It's your turn to sleep.

There's plenty of room.

Here, come. Lie down.

Max...

I love you, but not
the way you want me to.

No, no, no, no, no.

That is, that, that, no...

I don't judge you.

I just, I just don't...

feel the same and I'm sorry.

No, no, I, I am...

I, I'm disgusting.

No, Max.
It's nothing to be ashamed of.

Oh, tell that to
the priests and rabbis.

They, they say that it's a perversion.

I, I don't believe
that and neither should you.

Even if I didn't, what then?

Huh, what then, what?

I have to, I, I have
to just hold it all in.

Just, oh, my God.

Just once, just once...

Couldn't someone love me back?

Oh Max, someone will, I promise.

Oh, you're going to leave, aren't you?

Um, maybe that would be...

easier for you.

But we'll always be friends.

You say that now and...

Maybe you even think that
you mean that, but...

Oh, it's just never how it ends.

Just go.

Go.

Oh, it is good to
see you, old friend.

I am worried about you, Max.

It's not safe for you.

Well, I am not a Jew anymore.

In case you haven't noticed,

I have not been
one for decades, but...

There are other reasons the Nazis

could come after you.

Oh, you mean
because I am a homosexual.

I am not ashamed of who I am.

Not anymore.

I appreciate your concern,
Pablo, but I am not leaving.

This is my home, here with God.

I told Dora you were stubborn.

Oh, how is she?

Growing tired of me.

Just as I am of her.

How old is she?

Who, Dora?

No, no, the new one.

21.

She's a painter.

Oh, is she any good?

She could be.

But it's the only reason she
seems to be interested in me.

So I can help her with her work.

Can you blame her?

Well, everyone wants something from

the "Great Picasso."

I suppose I wish she wanted me...

for me.

Art. Picasso.

You cannot separate the two.

Offer her one sincerely,

and perhaps she will want the other.

Allõ.

Good afternoon, Mademoiselle Gilot.

I, I would like for you
to come see me again.

I'm not sure that would be...

Not to be with me, to make art.

I, I could show you how to etch.

That's very kind of you,
but you don't owe me anything.

But I do. An apology. I lied to you.

People say I am a genius,

that it all came easily to me, but...

The truth is, I didn't do it alone.

Many people helped me.

I would like to help you.

If you'll let me.

She's here, again.

But if you ask me,
this will not end well.

Jaimé, you are
an excellent gatekeeper,

but you are no clairvoyant.

I don't need to know the future.

I know you.

Well, that's not what
you wear to an etching class.

No, it isn't.

But you didn't invite
me here for that.

I told you,
I don't expect anything else.

Well, that's
exactly why I decided to come.

Are you sure you're ready?

Yes.

I've made up my mind.

Being willing is a very
different thing than being ready.

Don't you want me?

Very much. But I am willing to wait.

I couldn't wait to get to Paris.

Back when I was your age.

Here, to Monmartre where everything
important was happening.

Uh, give me a moment. Would you?

Hello?

Who's there?

It's me.

Pablo?

Hello, Germaine.

I wasn't sure
if I would see you again.

I wanted to say good-bye.

I'm going back to Barcelona.

Uh. I'm sure
it'll be good to be home. Hmm?

I hope so.

I don't blame you for leaving.

I still can't sleep.

I, I came to apologize
for what I said to you.

It was cruel.

No, you did not say
anything I didn't already feel.

It was my fault.

No, no, I was wrong.

I didn't understand
before, but I do now.

Understand what?

No matter how much
you care about someone,

you cannot force yourself
to love them the way

they want you to.

So, please, Germaine.

Stop blaming yourself.

Thank you, Pablo.

I hope someday you
forgive yourself, too.

I still think of Carles.

Nearly every day.

So do I.

If only I could have given
him what he deserved.

What he wanted.

Pablo. You did.

Who was that?

The love of my close friend, Carles.

He took his life because of her.

And I almost took mine because of him.

What stopped you?

Well, if it isn't the
Leonardo da Vinci of the whorehouse.

I am in love with Germaine.

I can't paint, I can't paint.

Not until I know Germaine is mine.

It's not bad for a whorehouse sketch.

It's time for you to pick up a brush.

And for me to go.

I found a way to give him in art what

he couldn't have in life.

I thought I would never
come back to Paris.

But after I finished
that painting, I...

I felt the pull to return.

So, I came to this place.

For a new start.

And I was happy here, until I wasn't.

I wanted you to see it.

So you'll understand.

Where you started.

No, no.

That it's better we don't
see each other too much.
No, no.

That it's better we don't
see each other too much.

I thought...

Love can be dangerous.

I watched it destroy Carles.

Then I learned it myself.

Right here. Right here.

Love can rage so strong,
that it burns itself out.

Fernande!

You start as lovers.

But if you are not careful,

you become victims
of your own passion.