All language subtitles for genius.s02e01.picasso.chapter.one.repack.1080p.web.dl.hevc.x265.rmteam_track3_[eng]

♪

♪

[María screaming]

[panting]

MARIA:
What?

What is it? Huh?

God has taken him.

-[crying]: No. No, no, no, no.
-We will pray for him.

Give him to me.

I'm sorry, my love.

MARIA [crying]:
No. No, no.

WOMAN:
Shh.

No.

What are you doing, brother?

[coughs]

[baby cries]

He sounds... very angry.

[gasps]

[crying and laughing]

In the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Ghost,

I baptize thee José Francisco
de Paula Juan Nepomuceno

María de los Remedios

Cipriano de la Santísima
Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso.

[audience cheering]

[bull bellows]

[audience cheering]

[bull snorting]

[grunts]

ALL:
Olé!

JOSE: You see how brave
the matador is?

But what if the bull
kills him, Papa?

He is an artist, Pablito,

and he is willing
to risk his life

to do something truly beautiful.

ALL:
Olé!

[bull snorting]

PICASSO:
It doesn't look right.

MARIA:
Nonsense. You're a great artist.

One day, your paintings will be
on the walls of the Prado.

Maybe I should be a soldier.

Well, then you will be general.

And if you're a priest,
you will be Pope.

[laughter]

Look what our Pablo has done,
Papa.

Hmm?

Oh.

My horse doesn't look real,
Papa.

Not like your pigeons.

I want to paint like you.

Then I will teach you, Pablito.

-Hmm?
-[chuckles]

[sighs]

You are a genius, Maya.

A true surrealist. [chuckles]

Look.

Mi papá taught me
how to paint pigeons.

What do you think?

[laughs]

-Maya, no!
-[laughing]: No, it's...

Papa's paintings
are very precious.

Oh, well, you know,
she's a critic,

the only one I have ever loved.

I'm gonna get you.
I'm gonna get you.

-Come here. Come on.
-[giggling]

[Picasso imitates chewing]

MARIE-THERESE: She is so happy
when you are here, Pablo.

Can't you stay the night?

PICASSO:
Marie-Thérèse,

you know I have to work.

-You can work here.
-No.

With this little devil savage,
you know, my ideas...

but I'll be back next week.

The roses are exquisite, Hervé.

Thank you, monsieur.

Cut me a stem, would you?

You should let them grow wild.

Too much pruning
destroys the beauty.

Yes, monsieur.

Vámonos, Marcel.

To Grands-Augustins?

I want to make a stop first.

Yeah.

[gasps]

[exhales] You frightened me.

[laughs] Nonsense.

You're fearless.

You're experimenting
with double prints again.

DORA:
What do you think?

You're a brilliant photographer,
Dora,

but there's a painter
trapped inside of you.

[Dora chuckles softly]

You should set her free.

Well, perhaps I will.

There are thorns.

Be careful.

Never.

SERT: We need a passionate
statement from you, Pablo.

Something to capture
the world's attention.

What do you have in mind?

We want you to make a painting

to fill

this entire wall
at the Spanish Pavilion

at the Universal Exposition.

I have never made a painting
that large.

I wouldn't know where to begin.

Franco and his fanatics
are winning the war

in our beloved Spain,

spilling the blood
of those who defend democracy.

Fascism's spreading
across the continent.

The threat is enormous,

so the picture itself
must be enormous

-to move the public.
-Tens of thousands of people

will attend the exposition--

from the rest of Europe,
from America.

AUB:
A bold, artistic declaration

from Pablo Picasso,

the most famous
of all Spanish artists,

would alert the world
to our plight

and help us
raise awareness and money

to save the Republic.

Franco has Hitler and the Nazis
on his side, Pablo.

We need you on ours.

DORA:
How can you refuse?

I don't take commissions.

I paint what I want
and what I feel.

-Not what someone else
tells me to.
-This is a chance

-to make a real difference.
-Even if I had an idea--

which I don't--
a picture is not going

to stop a war.

No matter how gigantic it is.

It could move people to stand
against Fascism and violence.

But I am not a poster artist.
You know, I...

I don't make propaganda.

Do you want to know
what I think?

-No!
-[chuckles]

But I am certain that you
are going to tell me anyway.

I think you are scared.

-Scared of what?
-Mm-hmm.

Scared that
if you make such a...

gigantic painting
and it's met with silence,

you will have failed.

That's ridiculous.

Or if it makes too much noise,

the Fascists
might come after you,

and you might lose
your nice, easy...

bourgeois life.

You live like a king, Pablo.

With your fancy automobile
and your fancy apartment.

What happened
to the rebellious young artist

who used to spit
in the face of authority?

Where has he gone?

Hmm?

CONCHITA:
I want to see, Pablo.

I want to try another one.

Now, sit still.

I can't.

[sighs heavily]
Come here.

I look pretty.

PICASSO:
I draw what I see.

[children chattering
in distance]

Y-You feel warm, Conchita.

It's diphtheria.

MARIA:
Please, God, no.

Is there anything to be done?

DOCTOR:
There is a serum.

But I will have
to send to Paris for it.

Go back to bed, son.

Everything is all right.

-[thunder crashing]
-PICASSO: Please, God,

spare my sister,
María de la Concepción.

If you save her,

I will never again
waste my time with painting

and drawing.

♪

In Jesus' name, I swear it.

PRIEST: To you,
O Lord, we commend the soul

of María de la Concepción,
your servant.

In the sight of this world,
she's now dead;

in your sight,
may she live forever.

Forgive whatever sins

she committed.

In your goodness,
grant her everlasting peace.

We ask this...

♪

MARIA:
You were a good brother to her.

I killed her.

Why would you say
such a horrible thing?

I made a vow to God

that if he let Conchita live,
I-I... I would give up painting.

Oh, Pablo.

But God knew
I could never keep my promise.

I love painting too much.

[sighs]

[crying]: Maybe more
than I loved Conchita.

So, to punish me...
[sniffles]

he took her.

[María sniffles]

God was not punishing you.

He was telling you
that you have a great gift.

One that he has given you.

He wants you to know that
you must never stop painting.

[sighs]:
Come back to bed.

-I can't.
-Because you are too old?

[chuckles]

You know, it takes a very
long time to become young.

[knocking]

Not now!

Sorry to bother you,
Pablo, but...

What is it, Jaimé?

DORA:
"Guernica,

"the most ancient town
of the Basque,

"was completely destroyed
yesterday

"by insurgent air raiders.

"A powerful fleet of airplanes,

"consisting
of three German types,

"Junkers and Heinkel fighters,

"did not cease unloading
on the town

"bombs that targeted
defenseless citizens

"on a busy market day,
leveling buildings

and setting roaring fires."

[people screaming]

[explosion]

♪

[bomb whistling through air]

[distorted neighing]

"The fighters, meanwhile,
plunged low

"to machine-gun those
of the civilian population

who had taken refuge
in the fields."

♪

Women and children?

Ripped to shreds!

Those Fascist bastards.

Franco rutting
with his Nazi pigs.

They can't be allowed
to get away with this.

They attacked your people.

I know... you didn't want
to make a painting

for the Spanish Pavilion, Pablo.

But now you must.

[clears throat softly]

I am going to need a...

very big canvas.

♪

♪

[whirs softly]

♪

Where did you learn
to draw like that?

My father.

-How old are you, anyway?
-14.

Jesus Christ.

It's Pablo, actually.
Pablo Ruiz.

Manuel Pallarès.

Well, maybe
you're not Jesus, but...

the way that you shade
the folds of his skin,

there is something
goddamn holy about it.

To be honest, I'd...

I'd rather be drawing
a beautiful woman's ass.

[chuckles] You've never seen
a woman's ass before, have you?

PALLARES:
Five pesetas...

for whichever one of you wants
to cure my young friend here

of his acute virginity.

[indistinct chatter]

[woman laughs]

You can go now.

Are you deaf?

Can't... can't I look at you?

You have done more than look.

-Now out with you.
-No.

I mean...

without your dress.

[laughs softly]

Your friend didn't pay for that.

[coins jingling]

That's not enough to peek
at even one bare thigh.

Please, j-just for a moment.

Oh. And that
will be enough for you?

Enough to remember
what you look like.

I am not so pretty in the light.

Not anymore.

I think you are very beautiful.

You do, do you?

Yes.

And I want to paint you.

♪

[church bells ringing]

SALVADOR:
It is extraordinary, Pablo.

PICASSO:
It's a gift, Uncle,

to thank you for everything
you've done for me.

And such a touching subject.

PICASSO: It's a story inspired
by my sister's death.

JOSE: We are calling it
Science and Charity.

I sat for Pablo,
but the figure of the doctor--

he's inspired by you, Brother.

To think such a marvelous work
could come from...

such a young hand.

Yes. Pablo has far exceeded
his peers.

There's nothing left for him
to learn in Barcelona.

I'm hoping to study
at the Royal Academy in Madrid.

JOSE:
But...

-it's quite expensive.
-[Salvador chuckles]

Now I see the charity
you allude to in the painting.

JOSE: I'm ashamed to ask
for your generosity again,

-Salvador, but...
-SALVADOR: Nonsense.

It will bring honor
to the Ruiz name

to have a true artist
in the family.

DEGRAIN:
You will not be an artist

until you have mastered
the rules of linear perspective

and orthogonal lines,

the laws of drawing
and precise contour.

You will not be an artist

until you have copied
the masters,

studied anatomy, and...

learned the language
of geometry.

No, Ruiz.

How many times must I tell you?

Your technique is all wrong.

I'm drawing what I see, Maestro.

Well, then you are seeing it
incorrectly.

You must use straight lines,

so that your figure

is properly proportioned...

and... positioned.

You have talent, Ruiz,
but no discipline.

And without discipline...

you will fail.

♪

Ruiz?

Maestro.

DEGRAIN: So this is where
you've been spending your time.

Yes. Or sketching at the Prado.

And when was the last time
you attended class?

[chuckles] You only teach rules
and imitation.

I want to do something...
original.

-Original?
-Unique.

Your uncle has written
to inquire after your progress.

-What shall I tell him?
-Whatever you like.

He knows even less
about painting than you do.

He pays your bills,
your tuition.

What does that have to do
with anything?

Do you suppose he will continue
to do so when I inform him

that you have made a mockery
of his generosity?

JOSE: How could you humiliate me
like this?

-Degrain is a fraud.
-His approval could
have won you commissions.

I don't want to paint what
everyone else tells me to.

I want to be free to paint
what I like.

Freedom is for rich men.

You see how many students
I must take on,

just to scratch out
a meager living?

Pablo.

You could be a master
at the Academy.

[laughing]:
You want me...

You want me to be a teacher?

[sighs]

I'm sorry, Papa.

You... You have taught me
all I need to know.

That's why I don't need
any more school.

I can barely feed your mother
and her sisters. Hmm?

And your uncle will not give you
another peseta. Hmm?

-What will you live on?
-I don't know.

But I would rather starve

than let someone force me
to paint inside a box.

I am going to be a great artist
one day, Papa.

But I will do it...

in my own way.

-♪
-[cheering, whistling]

MAN:
Spain is at war with America.

Every able-bodied man
must report for duty.

We must protect our colonies:

Cuba, Guam, Puerto Rico,
the Philippines.

We must defend the empire.

Report for duty.

[indistinct chatter]

Well, if it isn't
the prodigal Pablito.

-Manuel.
-[Pallarès chuckles]

You know, I thought you were
at the Academy in Madrid,

teaching everyone
how to draw women's asses.

[chuckles]
I need somewhere to stay.

I can do illustrations
to help pay the rent.

You'd have to pay the rent
on your own.

I'm going back to Horta.

Horta? Why?

I don't want to get ripped
to shreds by American bullets

or die of yellow fever
in some godforsaken Cuban ditch,

just so the damned imperialists
can get cheap sugar

for their coffee.
[sighs]

You were drafted.

You're lucky
you're not old enough,

-or tall enough.
-[chuckles]

Won't they find you at home?

I'll go back to the farm
for supplies,

then I'm camping
in the Santa Barbara Mountains.

The Spanish army is far too lazy
to climb all the way up there.

Let me come with you.

Please, please, Manuel.

I can't go crawling back
to my father.

♪

[sheep bleat, dog barks]

♪

PALLARES:
Just over the next rise.

PICASSO: That's what you said
after the last rise.

[Pallarès laughs]

♪

[both whooping and laughing]

PICASSO:
P. Ruiz?

PALLARES:
No.

-PICASSO: P. Ruiz y Picasso?
-PALLARES: No.

[sighs]
What is wrong with just Ruiz?

It's so damn... common.

It's also your father's name.

[chuckles] Exactly.

I need my own.

Something people will remember.

I tried my other names:

Diego José Ruiz,
Juan Nepomuceno.

-You don't strike me
as a Nepomuceno.
-[laughs]

What do I strike you as?

I know you, Pablo.

[chuckles]
You're not gonna let me

or anyone else tell you
who you are.

[laughs]

PALLARES:
It's perfect,

isn't it?

PICASSO:
Yes.

And someday...

I'm going to paint
the perfect painting.

[animal hoots in distance]

That sounds stupid, doesn't it?

No.

It sounds quite brilliant,
actually.

Let's never go back.

-[laughs] What?
-We have everything
we need here.

Food from my family's farm,
nature, art, friendship.

What about girls?

There's a whorehouse in Gandesa.

[laughs]

We could stay here.

[scoffs]

No rules, no teachers,
no government.

You could paint
your perfect painting, Pablo.

Here.

[thunder rumbles]

The paintings!

♪

♪

PICASSO:
These paintings,

they were the best work
I've ever done.

I'm so sorry, Pablo.

The rains never come this early.

[sighs]

It's a sign.

A sign?

Like when my sister died.

God is telling me...

...I'm wasting my gift here.

No, that's c... that's crazy.

We'll, uh, go back to the farm.

We get more supplies
and we come back.

-This time, we build a shelter.
-No.

If I stay here,

even if I paint
the perfect painting,

no one will ever look at it
and see what I see.

No one will know my name.

Whatever the hell it is.

And Conchita...

...she will have died
for nothing.

[Pallarès sighs]

DORA:
Why have you stopped, Pablo?

[sighing]

It's been so many years
since I tried to make a painting

that tells a story.

What if I cannot do it anymore?

Of course you can.

No.

It's not violent enough,
it's not...

angry enough.

So make it angrier.

I wasn't there.

I don't know how the flames
felt on their flesh,

how their screams sounded.

[doorbell buzzes]

I need to see him.

-He's working.
-He was supposed

to come Tuesday. It's Thursday.

You'll just have to wait
with everyone else.

I need to see him.

Mademoiselle, please.

Please.

Listen to me...

I had an appointment
for an interview

-three hours ago.
Why does she get to go in?
-[stammers]

It is the same for everybody,
sir.

[door opens]

Pablo?

Who is this woman, Pablo?

Sorry, I told her
you were working, but...

I am Dora Maar.

And you must be Marie-Thérèse?

Yes. The mother of his child.
The woman he is going to marry.

[sighs]

Perhaps you should pay a visit
to his wife,

the mother of his other child,

and inform her
of this... expectation.

MARIE-THERESE:
Tell this woman to leave.

-Now.
-I'm not going anywhere,
Mademoiselle.

One of us is leaving, Pablo.

Which one is up to you.

You know what, you settle it.

Yep.

[grunting]

Ladies!

Ladies, please!

Are you insane?!

♪

You make us all look so lovely,
Pablo.

Will you do me next?

If you let me stay another
night, I'll decorate your walls.

[giggles]

[sighs]

It's not bad
for a whorehouse sketch,

but I've seen much better.

-Have you?
-Yes.

Nonell, Casas,

me.

You're an artist, are you?

Yes, and I see
you're trying to copy our style.

You've obviously been
to Els Quatre Gats.

I can't afford Els Quatre Gats.

And I don't copy anyone's style.

Are you going upstairs or not?

Not!

-Out with you, then.
-[scoffs]

Well, you should come by
sometime.

I'll buy you a beer.

-Huh?
-Let's go.

My name is Carles Casagemas,
by the way.

What is yours?

Picasso.

DORA [distorted]: They can't be
allowed to get away with this.

"Guernica, the most
ancient town of the Basques,

"was completely destroyed
by insurgent air raiders.

1,000 pounds... 3,000..."

Women and children
ripped to shreds.

♪

[Marie-Thérèse grunting]

♪

DORA:
Those Fascist bastards.

They can't be allowed
to get away with this.

YOUNG PICASSO: What if the bull
kills him, Papa?

♪

[neighing]

♪

[soft chatter]

GENEVIEVE:
He's calling it Guernica.

Everybody's talking about it.

It's brutal.

Isn't it?

Perhaps even ugly.

I read that he said,

"Painting is not meant
to decorate apartments.

It's meant to be a weapon."

But there should be beauty
in it,

even when the subject
is painful.

I think it's powerful.

As a work of propaganda, maybe.

Perhaps you should write
a review, Françoise.

I'm sure a scathing critique
of the greatest painter

in the world will do wonders
for your art career.

Matisse is the greatest painter
in the world, Genevieve.

Maybe.

But Picasso
is much better looking.

[chuckles softly]

♪

[door opens]

[door shuts]

Don't say you were at school.

I phoned them.

I went to the exposition.

You skipped class.

To, what, watch the boat races?
With some boy?

No, I went with Genevieve
to look at the architecture

and the paintings.

I don't understand you,
Françoise.

I have given you
every opportunity.

I want to be a painter.

You think I raised you
to starve in Montmartre?

Making caricatures
for English tourists?

I won't. I'll do serious work.

You will go to university.

You will become a lawyer
or a professor.

Do I make myself clear?

Yes.

Consider yourself fortunate,
Françoise.

Not many fathers in this world

expect more from their daughters
than to find a husband.

[laughing]

Something funny?

My good friend, el Caudillo,

Generalissimo Francisco Franco,

has just decreed that divorce
is no longer legal in Spain.

Your painting must have wounded
him gravely, Pablo.

PICASSO: Well,
then it was worth the struggle.

DORA:
I'm proud of you. Truly.

You think he created
a new national law

just to get back at me?

Your canvas was so big,

-after all.
-[chuckles]

Well,

it will certainly make my wife
want to get up and dance again.

No divorce in France,
no divorce in Spain.

She can remain Madame Picasso
until the day she dies.

Olga will be thrilled.

But I'm afraid
your poor Marie-Thérèse

will be positively devastated.

And you, my dear,

aren't you even
a little bit disappointed?

Now you can never be
Madame Picasso either.

I would never marry you.

Wouldn't you?

Of course not.

Marriage
is a bourgeois convention

supported by priests
and lawyers.

And, uh, Fascist dictators.

[laughing]

And besides,

wives, by definition,

are boring creatures.

[chuckling]: Oh,
I could never be bored by you.

Where are you going?

The light is perfect.

[camera shutter clicks]

No, let's go back to the hotel.

I want to paint you.

[Dora laughs]

[Picasso laughs]

[Dora laughs]

It is extraordinary, Pablo.

Yeah.

Dora is whatever
I need her to be--

a mouse,

a bird,

an idea, a storm.

[chuckles]

She makes me wish
I was 18 again.

[loud chatter,
upbeat piano music playing]

MAN:
Oh! Oh! [laughs]

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

Come. Come have a drink.

NONELL: Toulouse-Lautrec is
an inbred dwarf.

Oh, Toulouse-Lautrec is
a genius!

Mm. Look at this.

No one can touch him when
it comes to capturing real life.

CASAGEMAS: I think Nonell here
is just as good as Lautrec,

maybe better.

Stop kissing my ass, Casagemas.

You're going
to give me a venereal disease.

[laughter]

UTRILLO: You can't judge Lautrec
without seeing the colors.

And to do that,
you have to go to Paris.

NONELL: If you're going
to Paris, forget Lautrec.

See Degas, Cezanne.

Now there is a genius.

You've been to Paris?

He keeps a studio there.

I am going to Paris.

NONELL:
Are you?

Well... as soon as I can sell
enough work to afford a ticket.

[laughter]

Don't laugh. He's very talented.
I've seen his work.

They are accepting submissions
for the Spanish Pavilion

at the Paris Exposition
next year.

Paint something for that,
Picasso.

The only pictures chosen

for that bourgeois pageant
of prettiness

will be nauseating landscapes

and dying saints painted
to please the tourists.

[whistle blows]

Everyone stay where you are!

Don't move!
Stay in your seats!

-Stay!
-[indistinct shouting]

-Come on.
-POLICEMAN: Hey!

-Come on.
-[man speaking Spanish]

Hey!

[indistinct chatter]

Hey.

[Casagemas giggles]

Bastards!

[panting]

What the hell was that?

Ah, they're rounding up
anarchists.

This happens two
or three times a month.

Are you an anarchist?

Of course.
And a Decadente.

-And a Catalaniste.
-[laughs]

Aren't you?

I don't know much
about politics.

Oh. Well, if we're going
to talk about politics,

I need another drink.

-Oh.
-[laughs]

-Whew!
-[bottle opens]

CASAGEMAS:
All government institutions

must be abolished entirely,

and all systems of authority
vigorously opposed.

Is this gouache and charcoal?

Yeah. Yes, it's much less
expensive than oils.

I wish...
I had a place like this.

Oh, you can work here
if you want.

Sleep here, too.

There are no whores to keep you
company, but no bedbugs either.

UTRILLO: You've got
a confident line, Picasso.

Or should I call you
"le petit Goya"?

CASAGEMAS:
Goya?

Goya's a rotting corpse.

Picasso and I--
we are the future.

If you
and your partners were smart,

you'd give us a show here.

Have you got anything
for me to look at?

What about you?

How many of those have you done?

Give me a museum, I'll fill it.

NONELL:
"A young man, almost

a child, Picazzo..."

[chuckles]
He spelled your name wrong.

Of course he did.

"Picazzo displays
an extraordinary ease

in his handling
of a pencil and brush."

Oh. That's excellent!

NONELL:
"But as one examines the work,

"one notices mistakes,

"lack of experience,
and hesitation

"about which path to follow.

"In order
to achieve personality in art,

"one must not base it
on that of others.

"One must take
a different direction

to avoid gathering
the master's crumbs."

-[scoffs]
-This reviewer is an idiot.

NONELL: "Only the painting
which portrays a young girl

"praying at an altar,
painted with natural ease,

"demonstrates qualities

"which we hope
will reach maturity the day when

"Señor Picazzo
brings richer experience

-and study than he shows today."
-[turns page]

You're right for once,
Casagemas.

This reviewer is an idiot.

He thinks Picasso's
worst picture is his best.

Hey. You're a bastard, Nonell.

-Don't listen to him, Pablo.
-No.

He's right. It's...

sentimental.

It's-it's... old-fashioned.

And it's going
to get me to Paris.

I submitted my painting,
and it's been accepted

to be shown
at the Spanish Pavilion

at the Universal Exposition
in Paris.

[all laugh]

Oh, we are so proud
of you, Pablo.

Aren't we, Papa?

Very proud.

Mm.

I knew when I saw it.

The girl praying
in your picture--

it's Conchita, isn't it?

Yes, Mama.

This is the kind of work
you should be doing, Pablo.

Noble subjects,
formal compositions.

Yes. Of course, Papa.

Imagine how you will feel

standing
amongst all those people,

thousands of them,
staring at your painting.

[chuckles] Oh, that would be
wonderful, but...

...I can't afford
to go to Paris.

We'll give you the money,
won't we?

But you can't afford it, either.

Ah, we'll manage. Don't worry.

[desk opens]

Thank you, Mama.

Thank you, Papa.

Be careful how you spend it.

[laughs]

We need two fashionable suits.

-We're going to Paris.
-[laughs]

Can you make them button
all the way to the collar?

We can't afford waistcoats.

[sighs]

♪

[door opens, bells jingle]

Monsieur Vollard?

-Yes.
-Carles Casagemas.

I'm sure
Isidre Nonell has mentioned me.

No.

I-I'm residing in his studio
with my friend Picasso here.

He has a painting displayed

at the Spanish Pavilion
in the Universal Exposition.

-Perhaps you've seen it.
-No.

Oh. Well...

we're told you have an affinity
for Spanish painters,

and we thought we would give you
the first opportunity

to show our work.

-No.
-Uh... [scoffs]

Monsieur, you-you have not even
seen our paintings...

And have you even looked
at the work I sell here?

It's a Cezanne.

Can either of you
paint something

as extraordinary as that?

Come back when you can, hmm?

MAN [on radio]:
Germany has invaded Poland

and has bombed many towns.

General mobilization has been
ordered in Britain and France.

What is all this, Rosi?

I'm shipping
what I can to London.

For safekeeping.

Putting the rest in the vault.

That's it, then?
You're just, uh,

closing up the shop?
Surrendering?

The Nazis are coming.

I'm getting my family to safety.

-You should do the same.
-[grunts]

Barr can get you all visas.

And what about my paintings,

my sculptures, my etchings?

Can he get me visas
for those, too?

-Pablo...
-Perhaps

you-you can stuff some
in your vault,

but-but I've got thousands
all over France,

at Grands-Augustins,
at Le Tremblay, even La Boétie.

And the Nazis have labeled
every bit of it as "degenerate."

What do you suppose
they do to degenerates?

Do you think I'm gonna run away

and let them confiscate it
or burn it?

You think you can stop them?

[chuckles]

Guernica made them very angry,
Pablo.

[indistinct shouting over radio]

I've had my work destroyed
before.

Know what it feels like.

I am not going
to let it happen again.

You can always make more
paintings, Pic.

What if I can't, Rosi?

You have children,

women you love.

Some things are more important
than art.

No.

Not to me.

[indistinct shouting over radio]

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH