The Simpsons (1989–…): Season 32, Episode 3 - Now Museum, Now You Don't - full transcript
Lisa stays home from school and fantasizes about the history of Western art.
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
Oh, I think you better stay home
from school, sweetie.
I'm not at school?
No, honey.
And you should stay home.
Yes, Miss Hoover.
I put some books beside the bed.
Will you test me on them later?
Of course. And I won't even
give you any warning.
I'd like that.
(grunts)
Mm!
(reading):
HOMER (reading):
Aw. Ooh!
"Born near Florence, Italy,
in the year 1452,
"Leonardo da Vinci
displayed a genius
unmatched in human history."
Extra, extra!
Renaissance begins today!
If you're gonna torture someone,
do it quick!
LISA: "As a child,
Lisanardo's gifts were evident"
Hey, sonny boy,
I want you to be
just as talented as her.
I made an Uffizi
on the floor of the Farnese.
Yeah, yeah.
That's, uh, that's great.
Lisanardo, did you finish
that drawing of the suspect yet?
Wow.
Gee. That talented kid
is gonna make you
a lot of money.
- (cash register dings)
- We're rich!
Like Marge's tomato sauce.
- (grunts) Not until dinner.
- Oh!
While we're celebrating
Saint Christopher,
he help people
who get lost telling stories
find their way back
to the point.
He was canonized
by Gregory the Inconvenient,
who shot him out of the cannon.
This was before
they discovered gunpowder,
so they pulled the cannon
to a cliff and pointed down.
But then he stayed in.
They had to give him
an eviction notice.
LISA: "Florence, at the time,
was at the start
of the Renaissance."
Hey, you can never
be too careful.
Aw, don't worry.
Those Dark Ages
ain't never coming back.
We got frescoes, we got spinach
and this delicious new thing
called a pizza.
I'm the original Ray.
Well, I am-a Famous Ray.
Basta!
(overlapping shouting)
What about me, Little-a Caesar?
Pizza! Pizza!
Ouchie! Ouchie!
Et tu, Noidus?
LISA: "Young Lisanardo
was soon an apprentice
"to the most famous artist
in Florence,
Andrea del Verrocchio."
Whoever paints
the sweetest cherub
will have the honor of having
my name signed on their work.
That's what great artists do.
Excellent, Barticelli.
Very nice, Dolphatello.
Ralphael, what is this?
My foot hands are brushes.
(laughing)
VEROCCHIO: Jesus.
Your little angels are
so much better than my Jesus.
- Is that wrong?
- (sighs) No.
Your genius has shown me
what a failure I am.
I will never paint again.
(cacophonous music playing)
At least there are no geniuses
in here.
(playing classical music)
(sighs)
What? We can't all be great.
Right, Mediocroto?
Si. On every paper, I get a C.
We don't want you in our class.
You're too much better than us.
Yeah, your gifts
come from heaven above.
Uh, that's not true.
♪ ♪
Here's some more talent.
Not a good time.
♪ My gifts came down
from God above ♪
♪ But talent
doesn't bring you love ♪
♪ Although
my brilliant genius shone ♪
♪ My last supper was all alone ♪
♪ In 1470. ♪
(crying)
If you can't beat 'em, kill 'em.
Use your genius
to invent weapons of war,
just like I'm gonna invent
the Charleston.
- ♪ ♪ - (scats)
Ow, my appendages!
I'll show them all.
I'll show them all
in a secret diary
that no one will decipher
for 400 years.
(church bell tolling)
(snores)
(yawns)
Oh, what to invent?
What to invent?
Portable siege engines.
Flamethrowing mirrors.
A waterpowered stabbing wheel.
Hmm. With these, we could kill
the most evil people
in the world:
slightly different Christians.
- MAN: Ow!
- This is your true masterpiece.
Why did you kill us?
Scusi.
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Ooh.
I'm going to kill you all.
It's my only pathway to pope.
Cardinals suck.
Go, Cubs!
"Lisanardo had learned
"that using her intellect
for war was blasphemy
"but using it for art
would make it endure forever.
She escaped to France
and retired in happiness."
I'll be out in a sec.
Keep the engine running.
(grunting)
Lisanardo,
I have many questions.
Why are you hitting yourself?
A nerd says what?
And how is it possible
that I am rubber and you are
glue, et cetera, et cetera?
I will answer all questions
just as soon as I finish
my masterpiece, my king.
♪ Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa ♪
♪ Men have named you ♪
♪ You're so like the lady
with the mystic smile. ♪
Well, if this doesn't get
Ron Howard to direct,
I don't know what will.
Real humble, Lis, making
yourself into Leonardo da Vinci.
Shouldn't you be in school?
Eh, it was art, which I hate.
Well, if you hate
the formal study of art,
you're just like another artist
I'd like to discuss
who also had trouble
with the Academy.
You must have a fever,
because that segue was sweaty.
Unimaginative and boring.
A.
Milhouse, this has nothing
I haven't seen before.
A-plus.
Bart, you've really
made me think.
How dare you? F-minus.
(grumbles)
(kids laugh)
(laughs) Oh, a single entendre,
the most complicated joke
there is.
Class, settle, please,
because today
we have a special treat:
a visit from Paris'
leading Bacchus model.
Sorry I'm late. As a supermodel,
I have to be eating
and drinking all day.
(burps)
You prefer robe open
or robe off?
Uh, just cover your privates
with this walnut shell.
Whoa, so roomy.
Mm-hmm...
Gah!
That looks nothing like him.
And it shouldn't. We're making
the art that we feel
because we can't compete
with a camera,
especially
modern compact cameras.
Please hold still for 17 hours.
Since you refuse
to paint the still life,
you'll become the still life.
Foie gras!
("Orpheus in the Underworld:
Can Can" playing)
This epoque just gets beller
and beller.
Who is that kid?
I am Toulouse-Moetrec,
the chronicler of the demimonde.
(chuckles)
I keep liquor in my cane.
Not very efficient. Really not.
ROOSTER: Coq au vin, au vin!
This is the greatest thing
I've ever seen,
and I have seen, like,
five things!
You, my friend.
You are a genius!
Maybe we should stop
slavishly following the teacher
and use our own minds
to slavishly follow Bart.
To the easels.
All right, time to do
my first self-portrait.
Time to look in a mirror
for the first time in my life.
I can only assume
that I am beautiful.
All right, here we go.
Looking now.
(screams)
(chuckles):
Oh, don't worry, sir.
You won't see anything here
that'll encourage debate,
provoke thought or be out
of place in a dentist's office.
Ah, well,
I'm sure this will have
a definite je ne sais quoi?!
Ugh! Oh!
The emperor is coming here
to look at this artwork today.
His Majesty will feed us
to the guillotine!
That hasn't been used in years.
No one even remembers
how to work it.
Pull up, let go.
How hard can that be?
(groans)
Mon cher, le superintendent,
which of our works will you be
entering into the royal Salon?
None. You are all refusés.
What about our student loans?
Oh, they'll be refunded.
We are not barbarians.
I mean, uh, come on.
Oh, if only we could get our art
in front of the emperor.
Monarchs love challenges
to the established order.
No, no. But there is one thing
the emperor loves
more than anything.
- France?
- No, he hates France.
But he loves cheese.
Look who he appointed
mayor of Toulon.
♪ ♪
- Hmm.
- Do we have a winner?
Keep your pants on, Moulin Huge.
There are 44 more galleries
of mediocre art to judge.
What is that cheese doing?
Oh, you know French cheese.
Very runny.
I warned them not to make cheese
into wheels.
Cubes were fine.
I get motion sickness,
and I'm lactose intolerant.
Hurry. He's biting his way in!
What the...
Aw, once again,
I have just cheese
that is not cheese.
Your Majesty,
if you'll take a seat,
we'll show you something
really special,
a transformation of art
from a rote copying of nature
into the experiences, ideas,
and mind of the artist.
You had me at "take a seat."
I don't know art,
but I know what I like.
And I like eating
and not looking at art.
I hereby award you
the Royal Medallion.
(chuckles) Congratulations
on your discerning eye,
Your Majesty.
I love this pupil.
Is this not the student that you
expelled from the royal salon?
Well, I... Uh, that is, I, uh...
Just pretend I'm not here.
Uh, sir, is your tongue
sticking out because you're dead
or because you're mad at me?
Uh, little of both.
Yeah. (exhales)
("La Marseillaise" playing)
Oh, sure, Maggie. That's easy.
Renaissance artists love to put
babies in their paintings,
especially baby angels.
Let's just not think about why
there were so many babies
in heaven, shall we?
("Ride of the Valkyries"
playing)
Hey!
Damn it!
So, telling stories
about art, huh?
Do they have one about a fat guy
whose wife is too good for him?
Stupid fat guy.
Bet he doesn't even know
what's going on.
Well, Dad, have you ever heard
of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo?
(scoffs)
Lisa, I haven't even heard
of Jackson Pollock
and Lee Krasner.
Well, Diego and Frida
were married in 1929.
♪ ♪
I now pronounce
you esposo and esposa.
You may now beso quite mucho.
Mwah!
(cheering)
Spanish for "Best wishes!"
Spanish for "Congratulations!"
Spanish for "¡Muy bueno!"
Amigos, familia,
and El Barto.
♪ Barto, El Barto ♪
♪ The fox so cunning and free. ♪
The mysterious El Barto.
Do you know
nobleman Don Bartholomew?
He lives in that house
you come out of every night.
¡Ay, caramba!
Gosh, quite the swordsman.
Slashed my shirt,
did not even nick me.
Move along, folks!
It's gonna take me a while
to bleed out.
(groans, chuckles)
That's clever...
A "B." (exhales)
I know I speak for my wife,
Frida Kahlo,
when I say I couldn't imagine
life without you.
But I also speak for my wife,
Frida Kahlo,
when I say we leave
for New York tomorrow!
You never asked me!
Don't worry. As a woman,
you will be treated with
much more respect in America.
Diego, I know
you are a socialist,
whilst I am
a lion of capitalism.
Yes, we hate the capitalists.
Right now,
a young socialist is being born
who will take them down.
Mr. Bernie Sanders.
I hope he's quick about it.
Getting a cootie shot should not
cost your lunch money.
And if you don't listen to me,
listen to the Bernie Babies.
What? Everybody's got goons.
I disavow that and welcome it.
Señor Rockefeller,
what is it
you are looking for from Diego?
Frida, please! I'm so sorry.
My wife does not understand
these discussions.
I understand
that he is paying you $21,000
for a mural
for his new Rockefeller Center
with the theme
"man at the crossroads."
$21,000.
Do you know what that is
in today's money?
$21,000.
(whoops)
This entire area
will be your canvas.
(gasps)
I will need very tiny brushes,
a magnifying glass
and a huge bottle of tequila.
No worm.
A snake.
(chuckles softly)
You drive a hard bargain,
but this is just a model.
The real Rockefeller Center
will be 66 stories high.
And every Christmas, we will
kill and decorate a giant tree
as a warning to the other trees.
(grumbles)
Oh, Frida.
Let us celebrate our triumph
with some snuggle-issimo.
- No.
- (gasps) What's wrong, my dear?
Is your unibrow hurting?
You are selling out, my love.
I am not selling out!
I am doing this mural
for the little guy!
People like him!
Why are you washing windows
at night?
Who said I was washing windows?
As for you, squander your gift,
spit on your talent.
- I am glad we are in agreement.
- (huffs)
But what will I do
while you work on your mural?
Paint a happy self-portrait,
smiling ear to ear,
not a care in the world.
That's not who I am, Diego!
I love you, too.
Going to the bar!
Paint. Paint your misery.
Also, leave. Leave your husband.
Which one of you is the angel?
- We both are.
- We both are.
That's how mad you're feeling.
Oh.
Back to Heaven!
Buenas noches, darling.
What a crazy night I had.
Now we got to get our stories
straight about Zeppo.
It was an accident, okay?
(honks)
Ah...
Starting a new painting?
Yes. I am painting my feelings.
Oh! Oh!
Wow.
So strong, so brave,
so true to herself.
Mm...
(groans)
My darling, I am not
half the artist you are.
Diego, what are you saying?
I am saying I've underestimated
you all this time.
You are a genius!
From now on,
I will show my awe of you
by sleeping with other women.
Starting an hour ago.
And I will sleep with other
women starting two hours ago.
I'm so glad
I don't hear what you say.
But I will do something I have
not done in our entire marriage:
what you want.
Well, actions speak louder
than words.
No. Unless the action is the
demolition of a big building,
words are usually louder.
Everything is a fight.
I completely disagree.
But just wait
till you see what I do.
You'll be pleased
with what I do not do,
and you will love what I do do.
Good night!
(grumbles)
Welcome to Rockefeller Center,
a temple of capitalism.
To find a taller building,
you'd have to walk
a full seven blocks.
(chuckles): Long blocks.
With people bumping you.
Enough already. While the art
is still deco, okay?
For you, my darling.
Man at the Crossroads.
Rich people. Yes, excellent.
The cosmos. Yes, makes sense.
A worker.
Well, I suppose
it couldn't be helped.
Fascist army.
Always welcome in any lobby.
Hmm. Who's that fellow?
With the beard
and the Bolshevik smile.
That is the founder
of Soviet Russia, Lenin.
But-but-but he's a communist.
Oh, he just attended
a couple of meetings.
I can't have a communist
in my colossus of capitalism.
Paint over it.
No!
Then you will lose
your commission,
and I won't let you be
the model for Atlas.
Hmm...
I don't care.
There is one person
I want to be proud of me,
no matter what.
(gasps) Oh, my darling.
Release the hounds.
(barking in distance)
They're on the 66th floor, sir.
They should be here
in about 25 minutes.
(barking continues)
But-but-but why is it
just sitting there?
I, uh...
I think they may be eating
the elevator operator, sir.
Let us leave, my darling,
with our scruples intact.
Push the owner's button.
- But...
- I said push it.
Aah!
Ironically, in time,
Frida became more famous
than Diego,
an icon for brilliant
female artists everywhere.
This is really, really good.
If I play my cards right,
I will direct a Rick and Morty.
♪ ♪
All right, now it's time for
the story of Vincent van Moe.
(chuckles)
♪ Bar-ry, bar-ry night ♪
♪ Squeeze your bar rag
clean and dry ♪
♪ For the last time,
say there's no Wi-Fi ♪
♪ With eyes that know
the darkness of my soul ♪
(cries)
♪ Serving them the dregs ♪
♪ Something's growing ♪
♪ On my eggs ♪
♪ Add tap water to the kegs ♪
♪ And search the bushes
for my missing ear ♪
♪ Now the show is done ♪
♪ Except the part ♪
♪ Where the chick goes "Shh!" ♪
♪ But no one ever obeys her ♪
♪ 'Cause, really,
what's she shushing for? ♪
This one ain't so great.
♪ I will not listen ♪
♪ She's not the boss of me ♪
♪ And she will never be. ♪
(crying)
End the credits!
Shh!
♪ ♪
Oh, I think you better stay home
from school, sweetie.
I'm not at school?
No, honey.
And you should stay home.
Yes, Miss Hoover.
I put some books beside the bed.
Will you test me on them later?
Of course. And I won't even
give you any warning.
I'd like that.
(grunts)
Mm!
(reading):
HOMER (reading):
Aw. Ooh!
"Born near Florence, Italy,
in the year 1452,
"Leonardo da Vinci
displayed a genius
unmatched in human history."
Extra, extra!
Renaissance begins today!
If you're gonna torture someone,
do it quick!
LISA: "As a child,
Lisanardo's gifts were evident"
Hey, sonny boy,
I want you to be
just as talented as her.
I made an Uffizi
on the floor of the Farnese.
Yeah, yeah.
That's, uh, that's great.
Lisanardo, did you finish
that drawing of the suspect yet?
Wow.
Gee. That talented kid
is gonna make you
a lot of money.
- (cash register dings)
- We're rich!
Like Marge's tomato sauce.
- (grunts) Not until dinner.
- Oh!
While we're celebrating
Saint Christopher,
he help people
who get lost telling stories
find their way back
to the point.
He was canonized
by Gregory the Inconvenient,
who shot him out of the cannon.
This was before
they discovered gunpowder,
so they pulled the cannon
to a cliff and pointed down.
But then he stayed in.
They had to give him
an eviction notice.
LISA: "Florence, at the time,
was at the start
of the Renaissance."
Hey, you can never
be too careful.
Aw, don't worry.
Those Dark Ages
ain't never coming back.
We got frescoes, we got spinach
and this delicious new thing
called a pizza.
I'm the original Ray.
Well, I am-a Famous Ray.
Basta!
(overlapping shouting)
What about me, Little-a Caesar?
Pizza! Pizza!
Ouchie! Ouchie!
Et tu, Noidus?
LISA: "Young Lisanardo
was soon an apprentice
"to the most famous artist
in Florence,
Andrea del Verrocchio."
Whoever paints
the sweetest cherub
will have the honor of having
my name signed on their work.
That's what great artists do.
Excellent, Barticelli.
Very nice, Dolphatello.
Ralphael, what is this?
My foot hands are brushes.
(laughing)
VEROCCHIO: Jesus.
Your little angels are
so much better than my Jesus.
- Is that wrong?
- (sighs) No.
Your genius has shown me
what a failure I am.
I will never paint again.
(cacophonous music playing)
At least there are no geniuses
in here.
(playing classical music)
(sighs)
What? We can't all be great.
Right, Mediocroto?
Si. On every paper, I get a C.
We don't want you in our class.
You're too much better than us.
Yeah, your gifts
come from heaven above.
Uh, that's not true.
♪ ♪
Here's some more talent.
Not a good time.
♪ My gifts came down
from God above ♪
♪ But talent
doesn't bring you love ♪
♪ Although
my brilliant genius shone ♪
♪ My last supper was all alone ♪
♪ In 1470. ♪
(crying)
If you can't beat 'em, kill 'em.
Use your genius
to invent weapons of war,
just like I'm gonna invent
the Charleston.
- ♪ ♪ - (scats)
Ow, my appendages!
I'll show them all.
I'll show them all
in a secret diary
that no one will decipher
for 400 years.
(church bell tolling)
(snores)
(yawns)
Oh, what to invent?
What to invent?
Portable siege engines.
Flamethrowing mirrors.
A waterpowered stabbing wheel.
Hmm. With these, we could kill
the most evil people
in the world:
slightly different Christians.
- MAN: Ow!
- This is your true masterpiece.
Why did you kill us?
Scusi.
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Ooh.
I'm going to kill you all.
It's my only pathway to pope.
Cardinals suck.
Go, Cubs!
"Lisanardo had learned
"that using her intellect
for war was blasphemy
"but using it for art
would make it endure forever.
She escaped to France
and retired in happiness."
I'll be out in a sec.
Keep the engine running.
(grunting)
Lisanardo,
I have many questions.
Why are you hitting yourself?
A nerd says what?
And how is it possible
that I am rubber and you are
glue, et cetera, et cetera?
I will answer all questions
just as soon as I finish
my masterpiece, my king.
♪ Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa ♪
♪ Men have named you ♪
♪ You're so like the lady
with the mystic smile. ♪
Well, if this doesn't get
Ron Howard to direct,
I don't know what will.
Real humble, Lis, making
yourself into Leonardo da Vinci.
Shouldn't you be in school?
Eh, it was art, which I hate.
Well, if you hate
the formal study of art,
you're just like another artist
I'd like to discuss
who also had trouble
with the Academy.
You must have a fever,
because that segue was sweaty.
Unimaginative and boring.
A.
Milhouse, this has nothing
I haven't seen before.
A-plus.
Bart, you've really
made me think.
How dare you? F-minus.
(grumbles)
(kids laugh)
(laughs) Oh, a single entendre,
the most complicated joke
there is.
Class, settle, please,
because today
we have a special treat:
a visit from Paris'
leading Bacchus model.
Sorry I'm late. As a supermodel,
I have to be eating
and drinking all day.
(burps)
You prefer robe open
or robe off?
Uh, just cover your privates
with this walnut shell.
Whoa, so roomy.
Mm-hmm...
Gah!
That looks nothing like him.
And it shouldn't. We're making
the art that we feel
because we can't compete
with a camera,
especially
modern compact cameras.
Please hold still for 17 hours.
Since you refuse
to paint the still life,
you'll become the still life.
Foie gras!
("Orpheus in the Underworld:
Can Can" playing)
This epoque just gets beller
and beller.
Who is that kid?
I am Toulouse-Moetrec,
the chronicler of the demimonde.
(chuckles)
I keep liquor in my cane.
Not very efficient. Really not.
ROOSTER: Coq au vin, au vin!
This is the greatest thing
I've ever seen,
and I have seen, like,
five things!
You, my friend.
You are a genius!
Maybe we should stop
slavishly following the teacher
and use our own minds
to slavishly follow Bart.
To the easels.
All right, time to do
my first self-portrait.
Time to look in a mirror
for the first time in my life.
I can only assume
that I am beautiful.
All right, here we go.
Looking now.
(screams)
(chuckles):
Oh, don't worry, sir.
You won't see anything here
that'll encourage debate,
provoke thought or be out
of place in a dentist's office.
Ah, well,
I'm sure this will have
a definite je ne sais quoi?!
Ugh! Oh!
The emperor is coming here
to look at this artwork today.
His Majesty will feed us
to the guillotine!
That hasn't been used in years.
No one even remembers
how to work it.
Pull up, let go.
How hard can that be?
(groans)
Mon cher, le superintendent,
which of our works will you be
entering into the royal Salon?
None. You are all refusés.
What about our student loans?
Oh, they'll be refunded.
We are not barbarians.
I mean, uh, come on.
Oh, if only we could get our art
in front of the emperor.
Monarchs love challenges
to the established order.
No, no. But there is one thing
the emperor loves
more than anything.
- France?
- No, he hates France.
But he loves cheese.
Look who he appointed
mayor of Toulon.
♪ ♪
- Hmm.
- Do we have a winner?
Keep your pants on, Moulin Huge.
There are 44 more galleries
of mediocre art to judge.
What is that cheese doing?
Oh, you know French cheese.
Very runny.
I warned them not to make cheese
into wheels.
Cubes were fine.
I get motion sickness,
and I'm lactose intolerant.
Hurry. He's biting his way in!
What the...
Aw, once again,
I have just cheese
that is not cheese.
Your Majesty,
if you'll take a seat,
we'll show you something
really special,
a transformation of art
from a rote copying of nature
into the experiences, ideas,
and mind of the artist.
You had me at "take a seat."
I don't know art,
but I know what I like.
And I like eating
and not looking at art.
I hereby award you
the Royal Medallion.
(chuckles) Congratulations
on your discerning eye,
Your Majesty.
I love this pupil.
Is this not the student that you
expelled from the royal salon?
Well, I... Uh, that is, I, uh...
Just pretend I'm not here.
Uh, sir, is your tongue
sticking out because you're dead
or because you're mad at me?
Uh, little of both.
Yeah. (exhales)
("La Marseillaise" playing)
Oh, sure, Maggie. That's easy.
Renaissance artists love to put
babies in their paintings,
especially baby angels.
Let's just not think about why
there were so many babies
in heaven, shall we?
("Ride of the Valkyries"
playing)
Hey!
Damn it!
So, telling stories
about art, huh?
Do they have one about a fat guy
whose wife is too good for him?
Stupid fat guy.
Bet he doesn't even know
what's going on.
Well, Dad, have you ever heard
of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo?
(scoffs)
Lisa, I haven't even heard
of Jackson Pollock
and Lee Krasner.
Well, Diego and Frida
were married in 1929.
♪ ♪
I now pronounce
you esposo and esposa.
You may now beso quite mucho.
Mwah!
(cheering)
Spanish for "Best wishes!"
Spanish for "Congratulations!"
Spanish for "¡Muy bueno!"
Amigos, familia,
and El Barto.
♪ Barto, El Barto ♪
♪ The fox so cunning and free. ♪
The mysterious El Barto.
Do you know
nobleman Don Bartholomew?
He lives in that house
you come out of every night.
¡Ay, caramba!
Gosh, quite the swordsman.
Slashed my shirt,
did not even nick me.
Move along, folks!
It's gonna take me a while
to bleed out.
(groans, chuckles)
That's clever...
A "B." (exhales)
I know I speak for my wife,
Frida Kahlo,
when I say I couldn't imagine
life without you.
But I also speak for my wife,
Frida Kahlo,
when I say we leave
for New York tomorrow!
You never asked me!
Don't worry. As a woman,
you will be treated with
much more respect in America.
Diego, I know
you are a socialist,
whilst I am
a lion of capitalism.
Yes, we hate the capitalists.
Right now,
a young socialist is being born
who will take them down.
Mr. Bernie Sanders.
I hope he's quick about it.
Getting a cootie shot should not
cost your lunch money.
And if you don't listen to me,
listen to the Bernie Babies.
What? Everybody's got goons.
I disavow that and welcome it.
Señor Rockefeller,
what is it
you are looking for from Diego?
Frida, please! I'm so sorry.
My wife does not understand
these discussions.
I understand
that he is paying you $21,000
for a mural
for his new Rockefeller Center
with the theme
"man at the crossroads."
$21,000.
Do you know what that is
in today's money?
$21,000.
(whoops)
This entire area
will be your canvas.
(gasps)
I will need very tiny brushes,
a magnifying glass
and a huge bottle of tequila.
No worm.
A snake.
(chuckles softly)
You drive a hard bargain,
but this is just a model.
The real Rockefeller Center
will be 66 stories high.
And every Christmas, we will
kill and decorate a giant tree
as a warning to the other trees.
(grumbles)
Oh, Frida.
Let us celebrate our triumph
with some snuggle-issimo.
- No.
- (gasps) What's wrong, my dear?
Is your unibrow hurting?
You are selling out, my love.
I am not selling out!
I am doing this mural
for the little guy!
People like him!
Why are you washing windows
at night?
Who said I was washing windows?
As for you, squander your gift,
spit on your talent.
- I am glad we are in agreement.
- (huffs)
But what will I do
while you work on your mural?
Paint a happy self-portrait,
smiling ear to ear,
not a care in the world.
That's not who I am, Diego!
I love you, too.
Going to the bar!
Paint. Paint your misery.
Also, leave. Leave your husband.
Which one of you is the angel?
- We both are.
- We both are.
That's how mad you're feeling.
Oh.
Back to Heaven!
Buenas noches, darling.
What a crazy night I had.
Now we got to get our stories
straight about Zeppo.
It was an accident, okay?
(honks)
Ah...
Starting a new painting?
Yes. I am painting my feelings.
Oh! Oh!
Wow.
So strong, so brave,
so true to herself.
Mm...
(groans)
My darling, I am not
half the artist you are.
Diego, what are you saying?
I am saying I've underestimated
you all this time.
You are a genius!
From now on,
I will show my awe of you
by sleeping with other women.
Starting an hour ago.
And I will sleep with other
women starting two hours ago.
I'm so glad
I don't hear what you say.
But I will do something I have
not done in our entire marriage:
what you want.
Well, actions speak louder
than words.
No. Unless the action is the
demolition of a big building,
words are usually louder.
Everything is a fight.
I completely disagree.
But just wait
till you see what I do.
You'll be pleased
with what I do not do,
and you will love what I do do.
Good night!
(grumbles)
Welcome to Rockefeller Center,
a temple of capitalism.
To find a taller building,
you'd have to walk
a full seven blocks.
(chuckles): Long blocks.
With people bumping you.
Enough already. While the art
is still deco, okay?
For you, my darling.
Man at the Crossroads.
Rich people. Yes, excellent.
The cosmos. Yes, makes sense.
A worker.
Well, I suppose
it couldn't be helped.
Fascist army.
Always welcome in any lobby.
Hmm. Who's that fellow?
With the beard
and the Bolshevik smile.
That is the founder
of Soviet Russia, Lenin.
But-but-but he's a communist.
Oh, he just attended
a couple of meetings.
I can't have a communist
in my colossus of capitalism.
Paint over it.
No!
Then you will lose
your commission,
and I won't let you be
the model for Atlas.
Hmm...
I don't care.
There is one person
I want to be proud of me,
no matter what.
(gasps) Oh, my darling.
Release the hounds.
(barking in distance)
They're on the 66th floor, sir.
They should be here
in about 25 minutes.
(barking continues)
But-but-but why is it
just sitting there?
I, uh...
I think they may be eating
the elevator operator, sir.
Let us leave, my darling,
with our scruples intact.
Push the owner's button.
- But...
- I said push it.
Aah!
Ironically, in time,
Frida became more famous
than Diego,
an icon for brilliant
female artists everywhere.
This is really, really good.
If I play my cards right,
I will direct a Rick and Morty.
♪ ♪
All right, now it's time for
the story of Vincent van Moe.
(chuckles)
♪ Bar-ry, bar-ry night ♪
♪ Squeeze your bar rag
clean and dry ♪
♪ For the last time,
say there's no Wi-Fi ♪
♪ With eyes that know
the darkness of my soul ♪
(cries)
♪ Serving them the dregs ♪
♪ Something's growing ♪
♪ On my eggs ♪
♪ Add tap water to the kegs ♪
♪ And search the bushes
for my missing ear ♪
♪ Now the show is done ♪
♪ Except the part ♪
♪ Where the chick goes "Shh!" ♪
♪ But no one ever obeys her ♪
♪ 'Cause, really,
what's she shushing for? ♪
This one ain't so great.
♪ I will not listen ♪
♪ She's not the boss of me ♪
♪ And she will never be. ♪
(crying)
End the credits!
Shh!