Genius (2017–…): Season 2, Episode 5 - Picasso: Chapter Five - full transcript
Picasso tries to convince Francoise to move in with him, while Young Pablo is challenged by the radical genius of Matisse.
I loved you the
first moment I saw you.
- Why in God's
name would I trade one
broke artist for another?
Opium.
- I want to
make you happy.
I worship you, Fernande.
Henri Matisse.
No, this artist has
more than just talent.
He has vision.
He's bent all the rules,
and I want to smash them.
- We
have done it, Pablo.
- When the Autumn
Salon opens, you'll
both be sensations.
- Matisse.
I'm not submitting it.
- But why?
- It's not good enough.
- This is
exactly how you raised me.
To stand up for myself.
- I want you to
stay away from Picasso.
- You're not actually
in love with him, are you?
- My African
masks protect me against
all evil spirits.
- We found her
wandering along the river,
but there was no
evidence of an attack.
Perhaps you should
take her to the hospital.
I don't think
she's in her right mind.
- You think
she doesn't mind because
she's such a free thinker,
but she does mind, very much.
I'm sorry, I thought
I could do things
your way, but I can't.
I'm going to look after
myself, and I hope
you look after Dora.
.
¶ ¶
- Jump, Françoise.
- No, Papa. I can't.
- Jump.
- Papa,
please don't make me.
- The world is not
kind to women, Françoise.
You must learn to
be as strong as a man.
Come on, now.
- I'm sorry, I.
.
- How did it happen?
- The power was out.
I couldn't see a thing.
I slipped on the stairs.
- Are you
in terrible pain?
- I've
been through worse.
- Uh.
- Are these for me?
- Yes.
- I love them.
- Why?
- Because they
are absolutely absurd.
- Yeah, yeah, well.
- How is Dora?
- Oh, she's
doing much better now.
- Is she home
from the hospital?
- Yes. She's
in psychotherapy.
Even going to church.
Imagine, a surrealist
who believes in God.
But don't worry, I'm
taking care of her.
Now let me take care of you.
- I tried your
arrangement, Pablo.
It didn't work for me.
- These past
few months, uh, I have
missed you terribly.
You inspire me
and-and challenge me.
- What about Dora?
- Dora and
I are through.
- And what
about Marie-Thérèse?
- Well, she's
the mother of my child.
But we haven't
been lovers in years.
I only want you, Françoise.
All the time.
- Hmm.
You were the one who...
who said we shouldn't see
each other too often, that too
much passion burns itself out.
- But you don't
think I'm always right.
Do you?
- It's a
lot to think about.
I need some time.
- Of course.
I have the use of
a house by the sea.
In Golfe-Juan.
Go. Recover.
Bring a friend.
Take your time.
Think about what you want, but
don't make me wait too long.
- At long last the
critics have spoken.
Listen to this.
Mauclair calls Matisse and his
merry band of imitators
"a pot of paint flung
in the public's face."
And, uh, "a Donatello
among wild beasts."
- Matisse?
A wild beast? How awful.
- Aren't
you tickled, Pablo?
Had you submitted to the
Autumn Salon, it could've
been you they savaged.
- Who the hell are you?
- Pablo, I
introduced you last week.
This is Géry Pieret,
my secretary.
- You're
a poet, Guillaume.
Why in God's name do
you need a secretary?
You're all fools.
Can't you see?
Matisse succeeded.
Critics are-are
rotting corpses who
still think Impressionism
is the modern style,
for God's sake.
The fact that
they hate Matisse only
proves how great he is.
"Wild beast."
It's a badge of honor.
My work would never
attract such anger.
I need to be more offensive.
More abhorrent.
I need my work to shock.
- It's
positively revolting.
Look, she has monkey feet.
- The artist is
playing with proportions.
- Or maybe
he can't draw feet.
- If you want
to be a real collector,
Gertrude, learn the lingo:
Line, shape, form, light...
- Ah, Monsieur
and Mademoiselle Stein.
Welcome back.
A stunning piece, no?
- Hmm, I do
find it intriguing.
- She'd make a beautiful
addition to yours and,
uh, your sister's collection.
And she's only 200 francs.
- For that?
You have got to be kidding.
- Oh, she will be
worth double next year.
Uh, did I hear you mention
monkey, Mademoiselle Stein?
I have another Picasso
I think you might like.
- If I take them
both, will you knock a
few francs off the price?
- Good God,
Leo, don't...
- I will give you
the pair for 350 franc.
- Sold. Now
tell me, this... Picasso.
Do you know where I
can find his studio?
- Oh! Yes.
But, uh, I must warn
you, uh, Pablo is a...
tricky little character.
- Good afternoon.
I'm looking for a Mr. Picasso.
- Who?
- Picasso?
I was told he lived here.
- There is no
Picasso here. Good-bye...
- If you do see him,
would you please tell
him that the collectors
Leo and Gertrude Stein just
purchased two of his paintings?
We'd like to invite him
to our Saturday Salon.
Oh. Dinner jackets optional.
But tell him he may
want to wear pants.
Pablo Picasso,
meet Henri Matisse.
- Pleasure,
Monsieur Picasso.
And you too, mademoiselle?
- Fernande Olivier.
- Ah, Enchanté.
- Pretty spectacular, no?
Truly original.
- Critics hated it.
- I think it's
splendid, Monsieur Matisse.
And I love your dinner jacket.
Is it imported?
- It is, uh, Scottish
tweed from Aberdeen.
You have quite the eye.
- Monsieur Stein,
this room, this shrine to art...
It's breathtaking.
You have such taste.
- Mm.
- Well,
that's debatable.
Gertrude Stein, Leo's sister.
- Nobody was
assuming you're my wife.
- Leo, shall I
tell Henri what you said
about "Woman with a Hat,"
the first time you saw it?
.
- Eh, Monsieur Picasso,
I hear the Steins have purchased
two of your works, huh?
- There's
one right over here.
- Gertrude, should
I tell Mr. Picasso what
you said about his painting
the first time you saw it?
- I said
I hate the feet.
I still do,
so I covered them.
- Mm, I
quite like them.
They remind me, in a way,
of primitive sculpture.
- Well, they
remind me of the gout.
I think the painting would
be far superior without them.
Would you mind
terribly if we eh, just
them off, Mr. Picasso?
I suppose that's a 'no.'
- You
can't just leave.
- Do you think
I'm going to stand there
and be insulted while you
flirt with every man in sight?
- What are
you talking about?
- I saw how you
were with Matisse.
That condescending bastard.
- I was just
trying to be nice.
- Next time,
try without your hands.
- Are you honestly
jealous of Henri Matisse?
- Course not.
- Then why
are you running?
The Steins are
serious collectors.
Think of what they
could do for your career.
We need to make
friends with them.
- How am I
supposed to make friends
with that rhinoceros?
- Paint her portrait.
- Why the hell
would I do that?
- Every woman
wants to be painted.
It makes them feel beautiful
a-and I suspect Gertrude
hasn't been made to
feel that way too often.
- I am not a
portrait painter for hire.
- Matisse
painted a portrait and he
caused quite a stir, no?
- How
would you like me?
- You can take
off the jacket.
And the hat.
- Oh.
Since I'm modeling for you,
I was thinking I'd remove
everything but the hat.
What?
I was under the impression
you wanted to paint a
bold response to Matisse.
- Clothes on,
hat off, please.
- What do you think of Renoir?
- He's a hack.
- Monet?
- Wallpaper.
- Cézanne?
- Is this some sort of test?
- My brother says I
don't know enough about art.
- Some advice, stop
listening to your brother.
- Pablo, I'm
enjoying our time, but this
must be your 40th attempt.
Maybe if I look at it...
- Not until I'm finished.
This can't be just
an ordinary painting.
If I'm going to outdo Matisse.
- I'm sorry.
- For what?
- I know I'm not
pretty like your other models.
- Nonsense.
You are magnificent.
I just need to find a
way to truly capture you.
- I'm an
artist too, you know.
A writer.
And you've inspired me
to write a novel, Pablo.
Can I write while you paint?
- I'm sorry.
I need to see your eyes.
- Fine.
I'll work it out in my head.
Who knows, at this rate I
might finish before you do.
- What I love
most is her shape.
African artists
aren't constrained
by classical notions
of the-the female anatomy.
They do...
As they feel and so should we.
- Ah.
Henri's showing you one
of the inspirations behind
his latest masterpiece.
Come. What do you think?
- It's absolutely
extraordinary.
- I hear you have
started work on something
special with Gertrude.
How's it coming?
- Yes, how is it coming?
- "Something is
coming out of him, certainly
it is coming out of him,
certainly it is something,
certainly it is coming out
of him and it has meaning..."
You finished?
- I am, but
the painting is not.
Please go.
- Oh I don't,
I don't understand.
- I look at your face,
but I cannot see it anymore.
- No, Pablo!
What are you doing?
- Oh, my Lord.
Apollinaire was
invited to the Steins
for their Saturday Salon
and he brought
that secretary of his.
What's his name? Pieret!
He tried to steal a
Cézanne right off the wall.
And Max was there,
drunk, of course.
- I don't care
about gossip, Fernande.
Please, I'm working.
- Why are you in such
a foul mood all of a sudden?
- You're right.
Let's get some sun.
- Francoise!
I've made new friends.
They want to take
us for a drink.
- You
go on, I'm busy.
- Francoise, I
traveled all the way down here
to have some fun with you
and all you do is paint and,
uh, what are you doing now?
Writing your memoirs?
- A letter...
- To whom?
Let me guess, not
your grandmother.
- Dear Pablo.
- "Thank
you for your generosity
I'm very happy, so,
no point in you
troubling yourself to visit."
What the hell
does that mean?
- Sounds like she
doesn't want to see you.
- Get the car.
- Pablo.
- Where is she?
- Francoise?
She's out for a walk.
- Why did she
tell me not to come?
- I have no idea what...
- Has she found someone else?
Or are you poisoning
her against me?
- Why in God's name?
- Maybe you are jealous
that I chose her and not you.
I could fix that.
- What's going on?
- Picasso
tried to seduce me.
- I'm sorry
for snapping at you.
It's just, we came here
to escape the snobs and
pretenders of Paris,
so when you read to
me about Pieret and...
- I understand.
- It's different here.
We Spaniards are
simple, warm, welcoming.
What if we stayed
a bit longer?
- Stop that!
- Shame on you!
- What?
Is a man not allowed
to express his
love for his woman?
- She's not your wife!
- Whore!
- What in God's name!
- Come on.
- Sinners, sacrilege!
- Yes, the Spanish
are very warm and welcoming.
.
- What is it?
- Have you ever
seen anything like that?
- A statue
of Mary and Jesus?
I've seen a few.
- This one is different.
The wood. The contours.
It must be centuries old.
Iberian, I suppose...
It's a sign.
- Of what?
- We should have a baby.
- There's
nothing in the world I
would like more than
to have a family
with you, Pablo.
But I can't.
When I was with my husband...
I got pregnant.
But I couldn't imagine
what that horrible man
could do to a child.
So I... I found a doctor...
it went wrong.
And now I can never...
I understand if you don't
want to be with me anymore.
- Fernande,
you're my muse.
I need you.
- But I'll
never be able to give
you what you want.
- Oh, you already do.
Every day.
And today is no different.
You brought me here.
And now, because of you,
I know how to finish
my portrait of Gertrude.
- It looks
nothing like me.
- Maybe not
today, but it will.
- That's an awfully
prominent spot.
- I thought
you liked Picasso.
- He's no Matisse.
Henri's not going
to like this...
- What happened
when Pablo first saw Henri's
portrait hanging on our wall?
- He offered to paint you.
So what?
- Well, what do you
think Matisse will do when
he sees Pablo's portrait
hanging above his own?
- He'll try to outdo him.
- They make
each other better.
- Henri,
you have a visitor.
- Ah, Monsieur Picasso.
Welcome.
And, uh, I see you've
already met Monsieur Braque.
He is the... why, he's
the youngest of the 'Wild
Beasts,' as they call us.
I saw your
portrait of Gertrude.
It is captivating, huh.
A bold, uh, a bold
challenge to the classical
notions of the female form.
.
You should be very proud.
- Thank you.
- Mm. Gertrude's face
did seem strikingly familiar
to me, but I couldn't place it.
And then it dawned on me.
She looked just like my
African friend who inspired
my 'Bonheur de Vivre.' Hm.
- Are you accusing
me of copying you?
- Of course not.
We are artists.
We must inspire each other.
- Your African
sculpture had nothing to do
with my portrait of Gertrude.
My influences are
purely Iberian.
I am Spanish.
- Yes, and, uh,
it seems you have quite
the Spanish temper. Hm.
- How can you write to
me and tell me not to come?
- You say you want
to be with me and only me,
and then you try and take
my best friend to bed?
- Oh, please.
It was a joke.
You French, you don't
have sense of humor.
- That's because
you're not funny, Pablo.
- Fine. You
want to know the truth?
I was trying to offend her.
So she would go and you
and I could be alone.
- That is ridiculous.
- Because you make
me do ridiculous things!
- I told you I
needed time to think...
- It's been weeks!
And I have missed you.
I couldn't wait any longer.
- And you think you're
going to get what you want
by backing me into a corner.
- Just give me a
chance to show you how
life can be with me.
We-We are never
alone in Paris.
Not for more than a few hours.
Just, please, stay
for a few days.
If I don't make you happy...
I will go.
- Please
don't leave like this.
- You should
come with me, Francoise.
- I can't.
- You're
headed for disaster.
that
purple blouse of yours.
And the willow green slacks.
- That's
quite specific.
- I have a
surprise for you.
- Whose
house is this?
- An old
friend of mine.
Henri, can you guess
who Francoise's
favorite artist is?
- Oh,
but of course. You.
- No, in fact, it's you.
- No...
- Yeah. Look at him.
You made him blush.
Look at him, look. Look.
- Hand me my
sketch pad, Pablo.
Mademoiselle, please
take a seat by the window.
- No, no,
no-no-no, she's not
here to pose for you.
- Oh, why should
you be the only one who
gets to paint her, huh?
- Actually,
Pablo never painted me.
- Mm.
- What, why not?
- Well...
- Yes, why not?
- 'Cause you are
still an enigma to me.
- I have never seen
you like this before, Pablo.
Well, I-I know how
I would paint her.
I would make her hair green.
- Of course you would.
To match the Persian rug
you would paint her on.
- Huh. Bella. Bella.
Better than making
her skin blue to match the
tasteless red tile floor
that you would paint her on.
- 40 years on,
and the great Henri Matisse
is still trying to outdo me.
Come over here.
Un besito, un besito.
Un besito, ay...
- It's absolutely
stunning, Henri.
You've reimagined the
female form again.
What do you think, Mr. Braque?
You proud to call Matisse
your fearless leader?
.
- Look at this painting.
It is clear, no
one can follow him.
- Hm.
- I hate to say it,
but Matisse has done it. Again.
.
- I know what
you are doing.
- What are
you talking about?
- You're trying to make
me jealous so I'll outdo him.
And I will.
But first I need money
to rent a new studio.
Mine has been taken
over by Fernande's junk.
- Ah.
- There's one
available on the floor above
us, but I can't afford it.
- Consider it an
advance on your next painting.
- It's obvious he
copied the face from
Iberian sculpture.
After I told him about them.
But Iberian art
belongs to Spain.
- You're
goddamn right it does.
- I didn't know
he went to Spain.
- He saw them
at the Louvre.
You idiot.
And now he's being
celebrated as the great
modernist hero, again.
- You are so funny.
Hey, what are you doing?
What the hell is
wrong with you?
- Who was that?
- Nobody, I
used to model for him.
- Are you
sleeping with him?
- No, Pablo, I'm not.
But if you keep acting
like a child, maybe I will.
- Those women
in Spain were right.
You are a whore.
- Pablo!
Pablo, let me out.
- I will, as
soon as you prove that
I can trust you again.
- You're insane. Pablo!
.
- Hello. Pablo.
Sorry to interrupt.
- Pieret.
What the hell do you want?
- I come bearing gifts.
Consider these a token
of our new friendship.
- You stole
them from the Louvre?
- I liberated them.
As you said, the Iberians
belong to Spain, yes?
Who deserves them more?
A dusty old museum, or
the greatest Spanish
painter in the world?
The statues are a
gift, of course.
But there is a small...
delivery fee, so to speak.
50 francs.
- Wasn't that
a wonderful day?
- It was
perfect, thank you.
- Hey, move in with me.
Think how wonderful
it would be.
We could wake up together,
and eat together,
and make art together.
- That sounds
wonderful but I don't
think I'm ready for it.
And even if I were, I...
I couldn't abandon
my grandmother.
- Well, but I need
you more than she does.
- Oh, she's
done everything for me.
It would break her heart.
- Yeah, but, uh,
don't you deserve to be happy?
- I do.
- There's a price
for everything, Francoise.
To create, you must destroy.
After all, the genius of
Einstein leads to Hiroshima.
- You're the devil.
- Huh. Is that so?
Well, if I am the devil,
then I should
burn you with hellfire?
No. I would-I would never.
I would never.
I love your face too much.
Hey, Francoise!
- I want
to go back to Paris.
- Uh, I, I forgot that
you French cannot take a joke!
- Fire, get out, fire!
- Help, help
me, I'm locked in!
- What happened?
- Kitchen fire in
Leger's studio.
We stopped it
before it spread.
- Fernande!
Oh, thank God.
- Where were you?
I was trapped, you
could have killed me!
- I'm sorry, my love.
I, I'm so sorry.
I, I was at Apollinaire's!
- I am
not your prisoner!
- Of course
not, of course not.
I made a mistake.
I don't know what I
would do if I lost you.
- You already have...
- Please, please,
don't leave me.
I do ridiculous
things because I love you.
Help me change.
I'll give you
whatever you want.
We'll... we'll have a family!
- Now you're
just being cruel.
You know perfectly
well that I can't.
- There's another way.
.
- What's her name?
- Raymonde.
- She reminds me
of my sister Conchita.
¶ ¶
What's your favorite color?
- Green.
- Do you know
how we make green?
Give me your hand.
¶ ¶
Magic.
- I have
a green dress.
We can hem it and you
can wear it to school.
- You see?
It'll be such fun here.
Don't worry, we're going
to be a very happy family.
- Raymonde, let me
show you where you will sleep.
- Pablo, what
are we doing here?
I asked you to take me home.
Whose apartment is this?
- What do you want?
- Tell her.
- Tell her what?
- That we are
not together anymore.
- Pablo,
I'm so sorry.
- For what? It's true.
We are not together anymore.
He's all yours.
- You see?
Now we can go.
- You should know,
uh, Pablo has never really
loved anyone in his life.
He doesn't know how.
- How can you
say such a thing?
- He will get tired
of you the way he gets tired
of every woman he falls for.
When it happens,
don't be hurt.
It won't be your fault.
- Come.
Françoise, Françoise!
- How could
you be so cruel to her?
- But I did it for you.
So you would trust
me when I say that I am
completely devoted to you.
- Pablo,
you're a monster!
- How dare you.
After all I have done, I
should throw you in the river.
- Go ahead. I can swim.
- I'm sorry,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
I don't know why
I am like this.
I love you.
I don't mean to
hurt you, I am... I'm sorry.
Françoise, Françoise.
Françoise, please,
look, listen, help me.
Help me, help me, help
me to be a better man.
Françoise, please.
- What do you want?
- I am just
here to say hello.
You haven't
surfaced in months.
- Why do
you care, Braque?
We barely know each other.
- I would
like to change that.
I really do admire your work.
Everyone's been talking
about your big painting.
May I see?
- It is not
ready to be seen.
- Those are
magnificent busts.
Where did you get them?
- Spain.
- Ah.
Their primitive expressions
remind me of, um, the African
masks at the Trocadero Museum.
Have you been?
- I'm not
interested in African art.
- But these masks,
they are not like, um,
Matisse's wood carvings.
They are something
else entirely.
I think you would
find them inspiring.
Well, I'm sorry
to have bothered.
- I thought we were done.
- Oh. I'm sorry...
- Raymonde!
I, I thought you
were someone else.
Please. Come in, come in.
Do you like to paint?
- The
nuns never let us.
They said it
make too much mess.
- Well, a mess
doesn't bother me.
When I was young, my
father taught me that to
be a really good painter,
you must first
learn how to draw.
He was right.
Master the rules, so you
know how to break them.
- I know what
you're going to say...
that I'm a silly girl who's
thinking about making the
biggest mistake of her life.
- I was going
to say that you're as
stubborn as your father.
- Well, he trained
me for Pablo, I suppose.
- That doesn't
mean that you have to
spend your life with him.
- But he needs me.
He's troubled.
And I do love him.
- You're young.
You'll fall in
love many times.
- Not like this.
¶ ¶
¶ ¶
¶ ¶
- Take off your dress.
¶ ¶
¶ ¶
¶ ¶
You can put your
dress back on.
I'm ready to paint you now.
- I put
Raymonde to bed.
What is this?
- A sketch.
- You drew
Raymonde naked?
- I'm an artist.
I draw nudes.
- She's a child, Pablo.
Our child.
- And she's not
embarrassed about herself.
So what?
- Well, this is
always how it starts.
First you paint her
beautifully, just like
you used to paint me...
Then you turn
her into a whore.
.
- How dare you.
I brought Raymonde here.
For you.
Because I, because I love you.
Now you accuse me
of God knows what.
- I'm sorry.
I know you would
never hurt her.
- Of course I wouldn't!
- But we both
know what happens to girls
who grow up around here.
- We will protect her.
- What happens
when we're not home?
Some drunk artist staggers
in from down the hall.
This was a mistake.
You and I both know this
is no place for a child.
- The world
is an ugly place.
Our friend Matisse,
he paints beautifully.
But painting isn't just
about portraying beauty.
I learned that lesson
around the time I was
losing my first love.
When I discovered
the Trocadero Museum.
It was revolting.
The smell.
I wanted to get out.
But I stayed.
And then I saw them.
Dozens of them.
I saw right away that
they weren't like
Matisse's statues.
You know, they
weren't art at all.
They were magic.
- I felt that
everything was hostile.
Women. Children.
Animals. Everything.
¶ ¶
I finally understood
what those masks meant.
They were weapons to
protect against evil.
I grasped why I was an artist.
My brush was my weapon.
¶ ¶
My shield. My protector.
I knew what to do.
I had to find the ugliness
beneath the beauty.
You want to see?
- But Pablo,
it's beautiful.
- That's how I see you.
You are different
than the others.
You see the beauty
beneath my ugliness.
- Is this a joke?
- That is the most
astute art critique you
have ever given, Gertrude.
- Mm-hm.
Chin up, you're only 26.
Matisse didn't hit his
stride until he was 35.
- For God's
sake, Guillaume.
You always have an opinion.
Say something.
- I'm
sorry, my friend.
I don't think you want
to hear it this time.
- Well.
Congratulations.
- For what?
- You said
you wanted to offend.
Be abhorrent.
You've done it.
¶ ¶
NARRATOR: Next Tuesday
on a new episode of Genius.
- The Mona Lisa.
Stolen from the Louvre.
They'll accuse us!
- Pablo Picasso?
- If your work
doesn't give you trouble,
it won't be good.
Francoise, where
could she have gone?
- We have to rip
everything apart to create a
new kind of painting.
- You are working
with Picasso aren't you?
I cannot recommend this work.
NARRATOR: Genius: Picasso.
New Episode next Tuesday at
10:00pm on
National Geographic.
Captioned by Cotter
Captioning Services.
first moment I saw you.
- Why in God's
name would I trade one
broke artist for another?
Opium.
- I want to
make you happy.
I worship you, Fernande.
Henri Matisse.
No, this artist has
more than just talent.
He has vision.
He's bent all the rules,
and I want to smash them.
- We
have done it, Pablo.
- When the Autumn
Salon opens, you'll
both be sensations.
- Matisse.
I'm not submitting it.
- But why?
- It's not good enough.
- This is
exactly how you raised me.
To stand up for myself.
- I want you to
stay away from Picasso.
- You're not actually
in love with him, are you?
- My African
masks protect me against
all evil spirits.
- We found her
wandering along the river,
but there was no
evidence of an attack.
Perhaps you should
take her to the hospital.
I don't think
she's in her right mind.
- You think
she doesn't mind because
she's such a free thinker,
but she does mind, very much.
I'm sorry, I thought
I could do things
your way, but I can't.
I'm going to look after
myself, and I hope
you look after Dora.
.
¶ ¶
- Jump, Françoise.
- No, Papa. I can't.
- Jump.
- Papa,
please don't make me.
- The world is not
kind to women, Françoise.
You must learn to
be as strong as a man.
Come on, now.
- I'm sorry, I.
.
- How did it happen?
- The power was out.
I couldn't see a thing.
I slipped on the stairs.
- Are you
in terrible pain?
- I've
been through worse.
- Uh.
- Are these for me?
- Yes.
- I love them.
- Why?
- Because they
are absolutely absurd.
- Yeah, yeah, well.
- How is Dora?
- Oh, she's
doing much better now.
- Is she home
from the hospital?
- Yes. She's
in psychotherapy.
Even going to church.
Imagine, a surrealist
who believes in God.
But don't worry, I'm
taking care of her.
Now let me take care of you.
- I tried your
arrangement, Pablo.
It didn't work for me.
- These past
few months, uh, I have
missed you terribly.
You inspire me
and-and challenge me.
- What about Dora?
- Dora and
I are through.
- And what
about Marie-Thérèse?
- Well, she's
the mother of my child.
But we haven't
been lovers in years.
I only want you, Françoise.
All the time.
- Hmm.
You were the one who...
who said we shouldn't see
each other too often, that too
much passion burns itself out.
- But you don't
think I'm always right.
Do you?
- It's a
lot to think about.
I need some time.
- Of course.
I have the use of
a house by the sea.
In Golfe-Juan.
Go. Recover.
Bring a friend.
Take your time.
Think about what you want, but
don't make me wait too long.
- At long last the
critics have spoken.
Listen to this.
Mauclair calls Matisse and his
merry band of imitators
"a pot of paint flung
in the public's face."
And, uh, "a Donatello
among wild beasts."
- Matisse?
A wild beast? How awful.
- Aren't
you tickled, Pablo?
Had you submitted to the
Autumn Salon, it could've
been you they savaged.
- Who the hell are you?
- Pablo, I
introduced you last week.
This is Géry Pieret,
my secretary.
- You're
a poet, Guillaume.
Why in God's name do
you need a secretary?
You're all fools.
Can't you see?
Matisse succeeded.
Critics are-are
rotting corpses who
still think Impressionism
is the modern style,
for God's sake.
The fact that
they hate Matisse only
proves how great he is.
"Wild beast."
It's a badge of honor.
My work would never
attract such anger.
I need to be more offensive.
More abhorrent.
I need my work to shock.
- It's
positively revolting.
Look, she has monkey feet.
- The artist is
playing with proportions.
- Or maybe
he can't draw feet.
- If you want
to be a real collector,
Gertrude, learn the lingo:
Line, shape, form, light...
- Ah, Monsieur
and Mademoiselle Stein.
Welcome back.
A stunning piece, no?
- Hmm, I do
find it intriguing.
- She'd make a beautiful
addition to yours and,
uh, your sister's collection.
And she's only 200 francs.
- For that?
You have got to be kidding.
- Oh, she will be
worth double next year.
Uh, did I hear you mention
monkey, Mademoiselle Stein?
I have another Picasso
I think you might like.
- If I take them
both, will you knock a
few francs off the price?
- Good God,
Leo, don't...
- I will give you
the pair for 350 franc.
- Sold. Now
tell me, this... Picasso.
Do you know where I
can find his studio?
- Oh! Yes.
But, uh, I must warn
you, uh, Pablo is a...
tricky little character.
- Good afternoon.
I'm looking for a Mr. Picasso.
- Who?
- Picasso?
I was told he lived here.
- There is no
Picasso here. Good-bye...
- If you do see him,
would you please tell
him that the collectors
Leo and Gertrude Stein just
purchased two of his paintings?
We'd like to invite him
to our Saturday Salon.
Oh. Dinner jackets optional.
But tell him he may
want to wear pants.
Pablo Picasso,
meet Henri Matisse.
- Pleasure,
Monsieur Picasso.
And you too, mademoiselle?
- Fernande Olivier.
- Ah, Enchanté.
- Pretty spectacular, no?
Truly original.
- Critics hated it.
- I think it's
splendid, Monsieur Matisse.
And I love your dinner jacket.
Is it imported?
- It is, uh, Scottish
tweed from Aberdeen.
You have quite the eye.
- Monsieur Stein,
this room, this shrine to art...
It's breathtaking.
You have such taste.
- Mm.
- Well,
that's debatable.
Gertrude Stein, Leo's sister.
- Nobody was
assuming you're my wife.
- Leo, shall I
tell Henri what you said
about "Woman with a Hat,"
the first time you saw it?
.
- Eh, Monsieur Picasso,
I hear the Steins have purchased
two of your works, huh?
- There's
one right over here.
- Gertrude, should
I tell Mr. Picasso what
you said about his painting
the first time you saw it?
- I said
I hate the feet.
I still do,
so I covered them.
- Mm, I
quite like them.
They remind me, in a way,
of primitive sculpture.
- Well, they
remind me of the gout.
I think the painting would
be far superior without them.
Would you mind
terribly if we eh, just
them off, Mr. Picasso?
I suppose that's a 'no.'
- You
can't just leave.
- Do you think
I'm going to stand there
and be insulted while you
flirt with every man in sight?
- What are
you talking about?
- I saw how you
were with Matisse.
That condescending bastard.
- I was just
trying to be nice.
- Next time,
try without your hands.
- Are you honestly
jealous of Henri Matisse?
- Course not.
- Then why
are you running?
The Steins are
serious collectors.
Think of what they
could do for your career.
We need to make
friends with them.
- How am I
supposed to make friends
with that rhinoceros?
- Paint her portrait.
- Why the hell
would I do that?
- Every woman
wants to be painted.
It makes them feel beautiful
a-and I suspect Gertrude
hasn't been made to
feel that way too often.
- I am not a
portrait painter for hire.
- Matisse
painted a portrait and he
caused quite a stir, no?
- How
would you like me?
- You can take
off the jacket.
And the hat.
- Oh.
Since I'm modeling for you,
I was thinking I'd remove
everything but the hat.
What?
I was under the impression
you wanted to paint a
bold response to Matisse.
- Clothes on,
hat off, please.
- What do you think of Renoir?
- He's a hack.
- Monet?
- Wallpaper.
- Cézanne?
- Is this some sort of test?
- My brother says I
don't know enough about art.
- Some advice, stop
listening to your brother.
- Pablo, I'm
enjoying our time, but this
must be your 40th attempt.
Maybe if I look at it...
- Not until I'm finished.
This can't be just
an ordinary painting.
If I'm going to outdo Matisse.
- I'm sorry.
- For what?
- I know I'm not
pretty like your other models.
- Nonsense.
You are magnificent.
I just need to find a
way to truly capture you.
- I'm an
artist too, you know.
A writer.
And you've inspired me
to write a novel, Pablo.
Can I write while you paint?
- I'm sorry.
I need to see your eyes.
- Fine.
I'll work it out in my head.
Who knows, at this rate I
might finish before you do.
- What I love
most is her shape.
African artists
aren't constrained
by classical notions
of the-the female anatomy.
They do...
As they feel and so should we.
- Ah.
Henri's showing you one
of the inspirations behind
his latest masterpiece.
Come. What do you think?
- It's absolutely
extraordinary.
- I hear you have
started work on something
special with Gertrude.
How's it coming?
- Yes, how is it coming?
- "Something is
coming out of him, certainly
it is coming out of him,
certainly it is something,
certainly it is coming out
of him and it has meaning..."
You finished?
- I am, but
the painting is not.
Please go.
- Oh I don't,
I don't understand.
- I look at your face,
but I cannot see it anymore.
- No, Pablo!
What are you doing?
- Oh, my Lord.
Apollinaire was
invited to the Steins
for their Saturday Salon
and he brought
that secretary of his.
What's his name? Pieret!
He tried to steal a
Cézanne right off the wall.
And Max was there,
drunk, of course.
- I don't care
about gossip, Fernande.
Please, I'm working.
- Why are you in such
a foul mood all of a sudden?
- You're right.
Let's get some sun.
- Francoise!
I've made new friends.
They want to take
us for a drink.
- You
go on, I'm busy.
- Francoise, I
traveled all the way down here
to have some fun with you
and all you do is paint and,
uh, what are you doing now?
Writing your memoirs?
- A letter...
- To whom?
Let me guess, not
your grandmother.
- Dear Pablo.
- "Thank
you for your generosity
I'm very happy, so,
no point in you
troubling yourself to visit."
What the hell
does that mean?
- Sounds like she
doesn't want to see you.
- Get the car.
- Pablo.
- Where is she?
- Francoise?
She's out for a walk.
- Why did she
tell me not to come?
- I have no idea what...
- Has she found someone else?
Or are you poisoning
her against me?
- Why in God's name?
- Maybe you are jealous
that I chose her and not you.
I could fix that.
- What's going on?
- Picasso
tried to seduce me.
- I'm sorry
for snapping at you.
It's just, we came here
to escape the snobs and
pretenders of Paris,
so when you read to
me about Pieret and...
- I understand.
- It's different here.
We Spaniards are
simple, warm, welcoming.
What if we stayed
a bit longer?
- Stop that!
- Shame on you!
- What?
Is a man not allowed
to express his
love for his woman?
- She's not your wife!
- Whore!
- What in God's name!
- Come on.
- Sinners, sacrilege!
- Yes, the Spanish
are very warm and welcoming.
.
- What is it?
- Have you ever
seen anything like that?
- A statue
of Mary and Jesus?
I've seen a few.
- This one is different.
The wood. The contours.
It must be centuries old.
Iberian, I suppose...
It's a sign.
- Of what?
- We should have a baby.
- There's
nothing in the world I
would like more than
to have a family
with you, Pablo.
But I can't.
When I was with my husband...
I got pregnant.
But I couldn't imagine
what that horrible man
could do to a child.
So I... I found a doctor...
it went wrong.
And now I can never...
I understand if you don't
want to be with me anymore.
- Fernande,
you're my muse.
I need you.
- But I'll
never be able to give
you what you want.
- Oh, you already do.
Every day.
And today is no different.
You brought me here.
And now, because of you,
I know how to finish
my portrait of Gertrude.
- It looks
nothing like me.
- Maybe not
today, but it will.
- That's an awfully
prominent spot.
- I thought
you liked Picasso.
- He's no Matisse.
Henri's not going
to like this...
- What happened
when Pablo first saw Henri's
portrait hanging on our wall?
- He offered to paint you.
So what?
- Well, what do you
think Matisse will do when
he sees Pablo's portrait
hanging above his own?
- He'll try to outdo him.
- They make
each other better.
- Henri,
you have a visitor.
- Ah, Monsieur Picasso.
Welcome.
And, uh, I see you've
already met Monsieur Braque.
He is the... why, he's
the youngest of the 'Wild
Beasts,' as they call us.
I saw your
portrait of Gertrude.
It is captivating, huh.
A bold, uh, a bold
challenge to the classical
notions of the female form.
.
You should be very proud.
- Thank you.
- Mm. Gertrude's face
did seem strikingly familiar
to me, but I couldn't place it.
And then it dawned on me.
She looked just like my
African friend who inspired
my 'Bonheur de Vivre.' Hm.
- Are you accusing
me of copying you?
- Of course not.
We are artists.
We must inspire each other.
- Your African
sculpture had nothing to do
with my portrait of Gertrude.
My influences are
purely Iberian.
I am Spanish.
- Yes, and, uh,
it seems you have quite
the Spanish temper. Hm.
- How can you write to
me and tell me not to come?
- You say you want
to be with me and only me,
and then you try and take
my best friend to bed?
- Oh, please.
It was a joke.
You French, you don't
have sense of humor.
- That's because
you're not funny, Pablo.
- Fine. You
want to know the truth?
I was trying to offend her.
So she would go and you
and I could be alone.
- That is ridiculous.
- Because you make
me do ridiculous things!
- I told you I
needed time to think...
- It's been weeks!
And I have missed you.
I couldn't wait any longer.
- And you think you're
going to get what you want
by backing me into a corner.
- Just give me a
chance to show you how
life can be with me.
We-We are never
alone in Paris.
Not for more than a few hours.
Just, please, stay
for a few days.
If I don't make you happy...
I will go.
- Please
don't leave like this.
- You should
come with me, Francoise.
- I can't.
- You're
headed for disaster.
that
purple blouse of yours.
And the willow green slacks.
- That's
quite specific.
- I have a
surprise for you.
- Whose
house is this?
- An old
friend of mine.
Henri, can you guess
who Francoise's
favorite artist is?
- Oh,
but of course. You.
- No, in fact, it's you.
- No...
- Yeah. Look at him.
You made him blush.
Look at him, look. Look.
- Hand me my
sketch pad, Pablo.
Mademoiselle, please
take a seat by the window.
- No, no,
no-no-no, she's not
here to pose for you.
- Oh, why should
you be the only one who
gets to paint her, huh?
- Actually,
Pablo never painted me.
- Mm.
- What, why not?
- Well...
- Yes, why not?
- 'Cause you are
still an enigma to me.
- I have never seen
you like this before, Pablo.
Well, I-I know how
I would paint her.
I would make her hair green.
- Of course you would.
To match the Persian rug
you would paint her on.
- Huh. Bella. Bella.
Better than making
her skin blue to match the
tasteless red tile floor
that you would paint her on.
- 40 years on,
and the great Henri Matisse
is still trying to outdo me.
Come over here.
Un besito, un besito.
Un besito, ay...
- It's absolutely
stunning, Henri.
You've reimagined the
female form again.
What do you think, Mr. Braque?
You proud to call Matisse
your fearless leader?
.
- Look at this painting.
It is clear, no
one can follow him.
- Hm.
- I hate to say it,
but Matisse has done it. Again.
.
- I know what
you are doing.
- What are
you talking about?
- You're trying to make
me jealous so I'll outdo him.
And I will.
But first I need money
to rent a new studio.
Mine has been taken
over by Fernande's junk.
- Ah.
- There's one
available on the floor above
us, but I can't afford it.
- Consider it an
advance on your next painting.
- It's obvious he
copied the face from
Iberian sculpture.
After I told him about them.
But Iberian art
belongs to Spain.
- You're
goddamn right it does.
- I didn't know
he went to Spain.
- He saw them
at the Louvre.
You idiot.
And now he's being
celebrated as the great
modernist hero, again.
- You are so funny.
Hey, what are you doing?
What the hell is
wrong with you?
- Who was that?
- Nobody, I
used to model for him.
- Are you
sleeping with him?
- No, Pablo, I'm not.
But if you keep acting
like a child, maybe I will.
- Those women
in Spain were right.
You are a whore.
- Pablo!
Pablo, let me out.
- I will, as
soon as you prove that
I can trust you again.
- You're insane. Pablo!
.
- Hello. Pablo.
Sorry to interrupt.
- Pieret.
What the hell do you want?
- I come bearing gifts.
Consider these a token
of our new friendship.
- You stole
them from the Louvre?
- I liberated them.
As you said, the Iberians
belong to Spain, yes?
Who deserves them more?
A dusty old museum, or
the greatest Spanish
painter in the world?
The statues are a
gift, of course.
But there is a small...
delivery fee, so to speak.
50 francs.
- Wasn't that
a wonderful day?
- It was
perfect, thank you.
- Hey, move in with me.
Think how wonderful
it would be.
We could wake up together,
and eat together,
and make art together.
- That sounds
wonderful but I don't
think I'm ready for it.
And even if I were, I...
I couldn't abandon
my grandmother.
- Well, but I need
you more than she does.
- Oh, she's
done everything for me.
It would break her heart.
- Yeah, but, uh,
don't you deserve to be happy?
- I do.
- There's a price
for everything, Francoise.
To create, you must destroy.
After all, the genius of
Einstein leads to Hiroshima.
- You're the devil.
- Huh. Is that so?
Well, if I am the devil,
then I should
burn you with hellfire?
No. I would-I would never.
I would never.
I love your face too much.
Hey, Francoise!
- I want
to go back to Paris.
- Uh, I, I forgot that
you French cannot take a joke!
- Fire, get out, fire!
- Help, help
me, I'm locked in!
- What happened?
- Kitchen fire in
Leger's studio.
We stopped it
before it spread.
- Fernande!
Oh, thank God.
- Where were you?
I was trapped, you
could have killed me!
- I'm sorry, my love.
I, I'm so sorry.
I, I was at Apollinaire's!
- I am
not your prisoner!
- Of course
not, of course not.
I made a mistake.
I don't know what I
would do if I lost you.
- You already have...
- Please, please,
don't leave me.
I do ridiculous
things because I love you.
Help me change.
I'll give you
whatever you want.
We'll... we'll have a family!
- Now you're
just being cruel.
You know perfectly
well that I can't.
- There's another way.
.
- What's her name?
- Raymonde.
- She reminds me
of my sister Conchita.
¶ ¶
What's your favorite color?
- Green.
- Do you know
how we make green?
Give me your hand.
¶ ¶
Magic.
- I have
a green dress.
We can hem it and you
can wear it to school.
- You see?
It'll be such fun here.
Don't worry, we're going
to be a very happy family.
- Raymonde, let me
show you where you will sleep.
- Pablo, what
are we doing here?
I asked you to take me home.
Whose apartment is this?
- What do you want?
- Tell her.
- Tell her what?
- That we are
not together anymore.
- Pablo,
I'm so sorry.
- For what? It's true.
We are not together anymore.
He's all yours.
- You see?
Now we can go.
- You should know,
uh, Pablo has never really
loved anyone in his life.
He doesn't know how.
- How can you
say such a thing?
- He will get tired
of you the way he gets tired
of every woman he falls for.
When it happens,
don't be hurt.
It won't be your fault.
- Come.
Françoise, Françoise!
- How could
you be so cruel to her?
- But I did it for you.
So you would trust
me when I say that I am
completely devoted to you.
- Pablo,
you're a monster!
- How dare you.
After all I have done, I
should throw you in the river.
- Go ahead. I can swim.
- I'm sorry,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
I don't know why
I am like this.
I love you.
I don't mean to
hurt you, I am... I'm sorry.
Françoise, Françoise.
Françoise, please,
look, listen, help me.
Help me, help me, help
me to be a better man.
Françoise, please.
- What do you want?
- I am just
here to say hello.
You haven't
surfaced in months.
- Why do
you care, Braque?
We barely know each other.
- I would
like to change that.
I really do admire your work.
Everyone's been talking
about your big painting.
May I see?
- It is not
ready to be seen.
- Those are
magnificent busts.
Where did you get them?
- Spain.
- Ah.
Their primitive expressions
remind me of, um, the African
masks at the Trocadero Museum.
Have you been?
- I'm not
interested in African art.
- But these masks,
they are not like, um,
Matisse's wood carvings.
They are something
else entirely.
I think you would
find them inspiring.
Well, I'm sorry
to have bothered.
- I thought we were done.
- Oh. I'm sorry...
- Raymonde!
I, I thought you
were someone else.
Please. Come in, come in.
Do you like to paint?
- The
nuns never let us.
They said it
make too much mess.
- Well, a mess
doesn't bother me.
When I was young, my
father taught me that to
be a really good painter,
you must first
learn how to draw.
He was right.
Master the rules, so you
know how to break them.
- I know what
you're going to say...
that I'm a silly girl who's
thinking about making the
biggest mistake of her life.
- I was going
to say that you're as
stubborn as your father.
- Well, he trained
me for Pablo, I suppose.
- That doesn't
mean that you have to
spend your life with him.
- But he needs me.
He's troubled.
And I do love him.
- You're young.
You'll fall in
love many times.
- Not like this.
¶ ¶
¶ ¶
¶ ¶
- Take off your dress.
¶ ¶
¶ ¶
¶ ¶
You can put your
dress back on.
I'm ready to paint you now.
- I put
Raymonde to bed.
What is this?
- A sketch.
- You drew
Raymonde naked?
- I'm an artist.
I draw nudes.
- She's a child, Pablo.
Our child.
- And she's not
embarrassed about herself.
So what?
- Well, this is
always how it starts.
First you paint her
beautifully, just like
you used to paint me...
Then you turn
her into a whore.
.
- How dare you.
I brought Raymonde here.
For you.
Because I, because I love you.
Now you accuse me
of God knows what.
- I'm sorry.
I know you would
never hurt her.
- Of course I wouldn't!
- But we both
know what happens to girls
who grow up around here.
- We will protect her.
- What happens
when we're not home?
Some drunk artist staggers
in from down the hall.
This was a mistake.
You and I both know this
is no place for a child.
- The world
is an ugly place.
Our friend Matisse,
he paints beautifully.
But painting isn't just
about portraying beauty.
I learned that lesson
around the time I was
losing my first love.
When I discovered
the Trocadero Museum.
It was revolting.
The smell.
I wanted to get out.
But I stayed.
And then I saw them.
Dozens of them.
I saw right away that
they weren't like
Matisse's statues.
You know, they
weren't art at all.
They were magic.
- I felt that
everything was hostile.
Women. Children.
Animals. Everything.
¶ ¶
I finally understood
what those masks meant.
They were weapons to
protect against evil.
I grasped why I was an artist.
My brush was my weapon.
¶ ¶
My shield. My protector.
I knew what to do.
I had to find the ugliness
beneath the beauty.
You want to see?
- But Pablo,
it's beautiful.
- That's how I see you.
You are different
than the others.
You see the beauty
beneath my ugliness.
- Is this a joke?
- That is the most
astute art critique you
have ever given, Gertrude.
- Mm-hm.
Chin up, you're only 26.
Matisse didn't hit his
stride until he was 35.
- For God's
sake, Guillaume.
You always have an opinion.
Say something.
- I'm
sorry, my friend.
I don't think you want
to hear it this time.
- Well.
Congratulations.
- For what?
- You said
you wanted to offend.
Be abhorrent.
You've done it.
¶ ¶
NARRATOR: Next Tuesday
on a new episode of Genius.
- The Mona Lisa.
Stolen from the Louvre.
They'll accuse us!
- Pablo Picasso?
- If your work
doesn't give you trouble,
it won't be good.
Francoise, where
could she have gone?
- We have to rip
everything apart to create a
new kind of painting.
- You are working
with Picasso aren't you?
I cannot recommend this work.
NARRATOR: Genius: Picasso.
New Episode next Tuesday at
10:00pm on
National Geographic.
Captioned by Cotter
Captioning Services.