All language subtitles for impressionists_ep3_www.mytvblog.org

ln the last episode.

l wrote to you
Monsieur Monet.

Well at least you got
my name right?

- Alice Hoschede.
- Claude Monet.

The great artist, yes l know.

- Hardly great.
- No, you're great.

People just haven't seen it yet.

Jean please.

l say we start a fire.

We paint what want,
we sell what we can.

An exhibition of our own.

Oh dear.

This is no ordinary exhibition.

You're right.
lt's a disaster.

Go get out.

- Please, Monsieur DENas l...
- Now!

You think l should paint like Monet.

Dash them off
in a blink of an eye.

You will not make slanderous comments
in the press about my private life.

Surrender your impressionist brush.

The colours, lights, this will be
my finest painting yet.

- Let's seat again.
- Then you, please.

Gentlemen,

to say that in the past
we have had our disagreements

would be an understatement.

Yeah.

But l am enough of a realist,

and l hope you are too

to know that if we argue tonight
it would create a very bad impression.

We are here tonight to salute a recipient
of the LENion d Honneur, yes.

But more important than that,

our tower of strength

our friend, Edouard Manet.

- Edouard Manet.
- Edouard Manet.

Thank you DENas
for those kind words,

naturally l can't agree
with all of them.

lt has always been my ambition

not to repeat today
what l did yesterday,

but to respond constantly to
every fresh vision, every new voice.

as for the salon,
oh why ruin the evening.

Yes, DENas!
l now have the LENion d Honneur.

lt would have made
my future once,

but now it's too late to make up
for twenty years of failure.

- No, not failure.
- Never.

The one thing you're not
is a failure.

What pleases me more, far more
is to see you here tonight.

My friends!

My dear, dear friends!

Our group was about to go
it's separate ways.

Whether we liked it or not,
it wasn't going to be the same again.

To the future.

- Future.
- Future.

So did Manet know

what was wrong?

His misspent youth,
one brothel too many.

The disease crept up
on him over the years.

Manet was there from the bENinning.

He never described himself as an
impressionist, but he was one of us,

so much a part of what we did.

And impressionist masterpiece.

They loved it at the salon.

Edouard Manet.

So the tide was bENinning to turn.

Oh yeah, yeah.

The tide was still against us.

As hard as l swam
the current held me back.

l was living in the country
with Alice Hoschede,

the wife of
my old patron Ernest,

with their six children
and my two boys.

Papa, we brought you tea,

Claude?

l owe over two thousand francs
in household expenses,

if l stop to eat now
we all starve tomorrow.

- l made you tarte de'tan.
- Now that's bribery.

Look at me.

l'm gonna write
to your husband, Alice.

- l'm gonna give him an ultimatum.
- Claude no.

Either he should pay something
towards your keep or let you go.

Tongues are so lose
they will wag themselves out.

Well the streets of Paris will
be littered with tongues.

Maybe l should paint something
people will want to buy.

l wanted to capture
the impression of a moment,

l was still at the
bENinning of my journey.

Oh, l'd say bENinning.

A single life is not long
enough to know a single moment.

Cezanne was a pioneer,
searching for his own truth.

His one man revolution would take
impressionism somewhere very different.

His work was so savage
and unfinished looking,

people were outraged,
the critics saved

the worst of their venom for him.

Paul Cezanne is
a genuine impressionist.

Each one of his paintings
more stupefying than the last.

No, we will not have that.

You will find it's pretty tame.

They compared one of
my nudes to a corpse.

Well that was fair enough.

How dare they call
me an impressionist.

- Cezanne.
- You're worse than DENas.

How can you say that your style
owes nothing to what we've tried...

Are you blind?

You are an inspiration to me,
and you, you are Renoir, but,

but l am doing something
completely different.

- We all are.
- No!

Not like me!

Not the best company on a good day

and with Cezanne
good days were rare.

l heard he didn't
even like to be touched.

He found the world
a hard place to be in.

So would you. lf you were
consistently rejected by a world

that was so blind it couldn't
even see your work,

to try and to fail,
so continually.

And to be rejected in the end
by those you loved the most.

He loved Zola very much.

He and Emile Zola had grown up
together in Aix- en- Provence,

the inseparables,
they'd call them.

Of course we know
how famous Zola became,

one of France's
most popular writers.

You're not hunting
for your supper anymore, Zola.

No, we sell them cordinaly.

Quite the dirty bourgeois.

l can't help being a success.

Well you were
gonna be the painter.

And you wrote me verses.

The inseparables.

What do you do in Aix?

- Do you still swim?
- Against the tide mainly.

When the people of Aix are stuck for
a laugh, they ask to see my paintings.

Do you let them?

How are your parents?

Still the most disgusting
stinking people in the world.

Do they know your secret?

The paternal authority
has spent his life

trying to get his accent
accepted by the snobs of Aix.

Only to have his son and heir
father a child with a peasant.

He cut off my allowance
if he found out,

and then we'd be
completely reliant on you.

Paul?

Morning father.

Where do you go all the time?

You're away for weeks.

Well l am trying to clarify the relationship
between colour and form, father.

Do you think that is a valid occupation
for a man approaching forty?

At forty l'd built
up a successful business,

your mother and l had two children.

- Any sales?
- No.

You're not earning a penny.

Not yet.

Well perhaps, perhaps you're
just not good enough.

Perhaps l'm too good.

Perhaps l'm a genius.

One may die with genius, Paul.

One eats with money.

Please let me write to Hoschede.

And say what?

That l love you,
and that you love me.

lt won't change anything.

How can he think that
he has any hold over you

when he doesn't pay a penny
towards any of your keep.

He's choosing to drink his life away,
and if you let him

he will drink ours away too.

Don't we have any choices?

l married him, l made my choice,
l took him as my husband and

Well he isn't behaving
like a husband.

l won't divorce him, Claude
you know that, l'm a catholic.

So where does that leave us,
wedged between Hoschede

and the church of Rome
for the rest of our lives?

lf l thought things were bad
they were always worse for Cezanne,

with his secret mistress
and their secret child.

Got so many pawn tickets in my purse
there's no room for any money.

Well that's just as well.

l'd love a lemonade.

Paul.

lt would help
if you sold a painting.

- Paul.
- Sit still.

Your father's house looks
like it's gonna tip over.

lf it was really like that, all the
furniture would slide down one end.

That's the composition.

You should tell your father if you
think his house is gonna fall down.

One gust of wind and your inheritance
will be a pile of rubble.

What you paint, Paul
it's not what other people see.

lt's more than that, Hortense.

- My eye is thinking too.
- Well tell it to stop.

l want honesty, honesty is more
important than what you see.

So send honesty to the butchers.

Paul!

Manet, you've not been very well?

No, l need to get myself in better shape.

Any news?

l'm quite out of touch here.

lt's been raining again.

All this wind and rain,

it doesn't make the world
look so attractive, does it?

l've bENun a few outdoor studies and

l'm afraid l might not
be able to finish them.

- Are you in pain?
- No, no, pain,

no l'm, l'm feeling much better.

Reassure my friends, won't you?

The syphilis had advanced,

and his lEN had been
removed below the knee.

He never spoke about
the operation to anyone.

l saw it in his eyes,

those unfinished paintings
he so wanted to return to.

lt wasn'tjust the lEN,

his work was being taken away
from him, bit by bit.

So much goes unsaid.

- When will you be back?
- Depends on how much l paint.

- What, by next Sunday?
- l'll write when l get there.

- lt's my birthday.
- l know.

But if you're not
back for my birthday, l um,

might go and spend it
with my husband in Paris.

Why do you want to spend
your birthday with Hoschede?

l don't want to
spend my birthday alone.

Please don't punish me
for not behaving like a husband.

l would very much like
to behave like a husband,

but as you never cease reminding me
you are married to somebody else.

Sixty francs.

l, l really shake
your hand for this, Zola.

Oh and please thank your wife
for the bag of rags she sent me

they're always
useful in the studio.

You really are a good solid plank.

Yes well l'll take that
in the manner it was meant.

Why do you stay in Aix?

Nothing else seems to mean anything.

- Come to Paris.
- Make me feel sick.

How can you give
an art a new bENinning

if you won't move on
from where you started?

Ah, you just want me
to paint society.

l want you to paint the world,
at least then you might sell.

l'm painting for myself
not to amuse other people.

We both used to live in
our own shadows, Cezanne,

isn't it about time
you stepped out of yours?

And do you remember when l
first spoke to you at school?

Well you were the only one
that would.

Speaking to you was banned because
you were a hopeless dreamer.

lf, if l am a hopeless
dreamer now then,

let me work in silence,
don't throw me to the ruffians.

Cezanne invited Renoir and
myself to visit him in Provence,

with its vivid colours and
intense light, it was another world.

lt's like a fairytale
around, don't you think?

Honestly you won't know
what to paint first.

- Oh l imagine l will.
- So bright so much blue.

You'll need plenty of
cerulean and ultramarine.

l seldom use ultramarine.

You can use some of mine
it's quite good quality.

lt's about the impression
that it makes on me, Renoir,

not the impression
that it makes on you.

Cezanne says that
he's been working hard.

Sounds good.

To avoid the admiration
of imbeciles.

Well he sounds happy.

Oh l don't think happy
is on his palette.

Um, so is this
just linseed oil?

Yes, yes it is.

He pawned his suit
for this lot.

An eminently sensible idea, Cezanne.

Or let's hope no one dies
within the next few months.

You could eh
you put Paul to bed.

lf l move him he'll wake up.

So are you gonna get involved in
any more impressionist exhibitions?

ls it impressionism anymore?

No, it's hard to know
what we are these days.

DENas hijacked one,
then my dealer had a go.

And that was a shambles.

l know anymore exhibitions like that,
we'll end up

with the public bored of us
and the press still against us.

Even if l had the money
to frame them

l wouldn't send them
any of my pictures.

Well l'm sure
Hortense would agree.

Hortense is only
interested in lemonade.

Do you have any lemonade?

No, no they don't no, no.

l think l'm coming
to the end of impressionism.

Oh! lmpressionism.

l want something more solid
and durable, my own way.

Well l'll be the only one left.

Fed up of being
out in the cold.

Do you want a blanket?

Oh l think Renoir was
talking figuratively.

Oh, well l'll put another log
on the stove anyway.

lt's almost daylight,
unbearable,

my eyes hurt terribly.

Must have been in agony for years.

When l last saw him,
took him some peonies,

and he straight away
started to paint them.

To go, just when you
start to find success.

We're all of us successful.

Manet was a great success,
and the first day l'll miss him.

As are you.

So this was eighteen eighty three?

Eighteen eighty three.

Um l'm sorry.

Excuse me.

Eighteen eighty three was also
the first year we came here.

Didn't know how much part
of our lives it would become.

From the train l had seen this
rambling farmhouse, and we were lucky,

the rent was low enough
that even we could afford it.

Will you allow
yourself to enjoy it?

lnstead of running away all the time.

l have to find new subjects.

Well you've got
plenty of subjects here.

l've told them to put your things
in the main bedroom upstairs.

- And where will you sleep?
- l will sleep downstairs.

Okay.

Colouring the cylinder of the sphere.

- An orange.
- An apple?

A head.

The world seems very complicated,
the trick is to make it simple.

Why does it have to go there?

Because of the biscuit.

To make a picture,
you compose.

l'm going to
astonish Paris with an apple.

This arrived yesterday.

Do you know who it's for?

lt's addressed for Madame Cezanne
must be for mother.

No, no it's not for mother,
it's from a father to his daughter,

so let's piece together what we know.

Here is a letter from a Monsieur Fiquet.

Monsieur Fiquet is
not a man of letters.

No.

Monsieur Fiquet, is a peasant and
his daughter is a peasant girl.

Peasant girl.

Monsieur Fiquet finishes,
please remember me to the boy.

Yes, Paul.

He's eleven.

Well perhaps you'd be so good as to see
that this gets to its intended reader.

Thank you.

And l shall go away and
consider your intended allowance.

Do you feel you had much
common ground with Cezanne?

As an impressionist?

We both chased nature,

he wanted to construct it
and make it endure.

For me it was the moment.

Just that, chasing the moment
that will never come again.

Alice and l had our home.

l knew she wanted me to stay
there with her but l couldn't,

l was travelling, always travelling.

Trying to get closer to my subject.

l was a hunter, not a painter,
learning to know my quarry.

Some days the sea was so blue,
others so green.

l couldn't express its intensity,
its habits, its passions,

lying in wait for a passing cloud,
pouncing on a perfect sky.

lt was a daily battle,

in which l invariably
came off the worst.

Painting took me away
for weeks at a time.

Alice and l were
divided by so much.

But without her,
nothing mattered, not even painting.

The critics call my work
the cult of ugliness.

Painted by a mad man
with the shakes, made by

loading pistols with paint
and firing them at the canvas.

Well you're an artist's artist.

Manet called me a bricklayer
who paints with a trowel.

l am rolling a rock uphill, Zola.

And either is,
l keep on rolling it forever,

or l, l let it roll
back on me and crush me.

Go on.

But the thing that keeps
me going is the hope that,

the belief that one day l will
pick up that boulder with my hands

and hurl it to the stars.

Well what if posterity isn't
the impartial judge we think it is.

Well don't say a thing like that.

Suppose the artist's paradise turn out
to be as non existent as the Catholics,

and that future generations persist
on liking pretty pretty daubing

better than real painting.

Well they must want my paintings,
if they're painted well.

That's like saying they'll be happy to be
butchered as long as the cuts are neat.

l've started a new novel,

it's the fourteenth in my series
about the Rougon Macquart family,

it's about passion and creation,

l'll send you a copy.

Where're you going?

To paint.

Cezanne kept moving, not knowing if
he would ever reach his destination.

Zola did what he did best,
writing about what he knew,

and the people he knew.

Father l'm late,
l know ah, l'm sorry.

My train there, there was
an error in the time table.

Could you find
some employment for your folk?

How is the boy?

How is he?

He's very well,

he spends most of his time outdoors.

l should like to meet him.

Would you mind?

Not at all.

Well say good morning, Paul.

Say good morning to your grandfather.

Paul.

Cezanne found inspiration in the
shape of La Montagne Sainte- Victoire,

just outside Aix.

Like him it thirsted for sun
yet fell back to earth.

He said he could occupy
himself for months there

without moving
from the same place

just by turning slightly
to the left or the right.

He painted the mountain sixty times.

From different positions
on different days.

No. l told him that
there's no future,

absolutely no future in
the impressionist eh artists.

But frankly
he still keeps going.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

l've actually drawn a likeness
of Cezanne that is too mild.

My dear Cezanne doesn't
think enough of public opinion.

He despises
the most elementary things

language, dress, hygiene.

Here, it arrived.

But none of this would matter
if only he had genius.

Why don't you open it?

To Cezanne
and his lack of genius.

Here, here.

He suffered all the torments

of the man condemned
to roll a rock uphill forever

or to be crushed
when it rolls back on him.

- That's me.
- lt could be anyone.

No, l said that.
He has written about me.

There's an artist and his mistress,
who is also his model and their son.

What's wrong with that?

He calls the artist
a splendid failure.

Oh, Paul it's just a book.

How can a man talk sensibly
about the art of painting.

He doesn't know
anything about it.

How dare he say that
an artist is finished

because of one bad picture.

Paul.

l have just received your novel
which you were kind enough to send me.

l thank you for it and ask that
you let me press your hand

in memory of old and better times,

ever yours,
your friend from the past.

Cezanne and Zola were
never to meet again.

What Zola did in his novel,
which is called the masterpiece,

was to say that
impressionism was a failure.

Did you think
it was based on Cezanne?

We were all in there,
bits and pieces of our lives.

The worst thing was
it broke Cezanne's heart.

He had married
Hortense by that time.

He'd married her not for love

but so that Paul wouldn't have to suffer
the stigma of having unmarried parents.

Six months after the wedding,
his father died leaving Cezanne and

indeed Hortense
a very generous income.

His worries about money,
like his feeling for Hortense,

and his friendship with Zola
were things of the past.

You'll have to hurry or, or the
carriage will leave with all your luggage.

You will come and stay?

You know l don't like Paris.

We've got our own bathroom,

not that, that would interest you.

l think that's always been
the difference between us.

Maybe.

Paul.

Be good,

and if you're not,
you're forgiven already.

Go on.

l wrote to my old
impressionist friends.

We had to lay Zola's
masterpiece to rest.

We could not allow our names,
and Manet's memory,

to be equated with failure forever.

Right there's something
that l need to ask you both.

He wants us to buy ten of his
paintings for a hundred francs.

- l need twenty thousand.
- Francs?

And l'm not gonna give
you anything in return.

All that fresh air's
gone to his head.

l'm thinking of purchasing
Manet's Olympia for the state

and l need
twenty thousand francs.

- What's in it for you?
- Sorry how much?

- Twenty thousand.
- Right.

So Monet is thinking this is
my chance to go down

in history as the true leader
of the impressionist movement.

l'm thinking
about Madame Manet.

l'll think about Madame Manet
when and if she asks me to.

lmpressionism will
get a boost also.

- Also, Monet will get a boost.
- No.

- Yes.
- Yes.

Come on, start me off
what do you say?

No.

- Renoir?
- No.

ln the end Renoir and DENas
gave their contributions

and l raised enough money
to buy Olympia.

ln 1907 it was hung in the
home of French art, the Louvre.

For once l was closer to home.
l'd found some haystacks,

and started with two canvasses,
one for gray and one for sunny.

Alice, the light's changing.

As the light changed
on the haystack

the whole subject
was transformed

and the light kept changing
through the day, through different days.

How can anyone say
that a landscape

even exists when
it changes so constantly.

You'll have to be quick.

And l only worked on
each canvas in it's light.

Seizing just the right
moment at a stroke.

The light's fading.

Or that moment will be lost.

You look like a conductor.

Like a conductor holding a baton,
one, two, three, one, two, three

one, two, three,
one, two, three, one, two, three

one, two, three,
one, two, three

Fifteen pictures of the same thing
and they all sold in three days.

Something had changed.

The world it seemed was
bENinning to see things my way.

A Haystack, a haystack was as much
of a subject as a vase of flowers.

And if the finish wasn't smooth,
no comment.

lt was the bENinning of what
became known as my series paintings.

l painted poplar trees
along the bank of the river.

l went to Rouen
to paint the cathedral.

l couldn't sleep for nightmares

that the cathedral was
coming down on top of me.

lt was blue, or pink, or yellow.

l must have done
thirty paintings there.

l thought
l'd be in Rouen forever.

l think Alice thought so too.

She stayed on in Giverny.

Our situation,
it really couldn't go on,

our being together and
not really being together.

and l'll tell you
something else that happened.

Hoschede died.

Alice, l've decided.

l'm not going to
work away any more.

l know l should wait,
and l'm sorry.

At last there are
no obstacles in our path, and,

l don't mean to call
Ernest an obstacle.

l don't want to distress you.

Alice, are you listening to me?

Yes, yes.

All my life l have travelled,
looking for something.

l thought that l find it in seeing
different things, but it's here.

lt's here.

lt's in seeing
the same things every day.

l shall grow sick of you.

- Will you?
- Well l hope not.

We were married in July
eighteen ninety two, here in Giverny.

l had made enough money
to buy the house.

Alice loved it here.

How l miss her.

Early in nineteen ten,
she felt very weak.

Leukaemia.

ln the spring there was
a remission and l,

l, you cling to the hope.

My dear companion.

She died on
the nineteenth of May.

Cling to your palette,
they told me.

Hardly picked up
a brush for three years.

Still Cezanne struggled on alone.

The very last of us
to be recognised by the world.

Morning.

lt's a mess there's too many
lose strands, there's no centre.

lt's escaping.
Errant hand.

Good day.

l have to tell you
that l'm extremely busy,

and will be for
the rest of my life.

You're not very easy to find.

Perhaps l don't
want to be found.

Every artist wants to be found.

What are you working on?

- lt's a painting.
- Please don't,

please don't shout at me.
l'm Ambroise Vollard.

l'm an art dealer,

l want to present
an exhibition of your work.

Can't you think of
better ways to waste your money?

People should see your work,
or you'll die forgotten,

l'll organise it all.

l noticed your rather spectacular
collection of Japanese prints.

Ah a great admirer.

Did they inspire you
for this garden?

No. l wasn't inspired,

there's no point in being inspired
if you don't get any help.

For the local people
an artist is just a comedian

who wore hats, someone to use.

You know they tried
to chop down the poplars

and they charged me a toll
to cross the fields to paint,

dismantled the haystacks.

And when l wanted
to make my pond,

- What was here before?
- A marsh.

Alice.

l had been searching the world
for what lay at my feet.

Alice.

l stopped hunting nature
and invited her in.

l diverted the stream and planted every
known variety of water lily in the pond

and they flourished.

l set up my easel in
front of this body of water

that contains in it all
the elements of a universe,

changing constantly
under our very eyes.

lt's become an obsession.

After all his reservations
Cezanne did agree to Vollard

holding an exhibition of his work.

How many more have you got?

- A hundred and fifty two.
- A hundred and fifty two!

l, l don't know
if l can manage them all.

What?

- l mean at the gallery.
- Well you must.

l'll think of something.

lt's gonna be splendid.

Thank you, thank you.

Ah, wonderful.

Wonderful.

Put those there.

Thank you so much.

That's not quite
a hundred and fifty two.

Well the big ones are
in the other room.

How rarely do you
come across a true painter,

one who knows
how to balance tones?

Do you have any idea
how impossible it is for me

to make collectors,
even friends of the impressionists

understand how precious
Cezanne's work is.

So still, so alive.

- And one L'Estaque.
- Ah the wild majesty of L'Estaque.

- This 'Still Life' is mine.
- What? l saw it first.

l have my money out first.

'Still life' for Monsieur DENas

painting of irreproachable perfection.

You must be pleased with
what we sold at the exhibition.

You're perfectly safe.
l prepared it myself so...

so you won't fall
so long as you stay still.

l'll be still as a statue.

- As an apple.
- As an apple.

Please, do not speak.

Shut that dog up!

Cezanne.

You clumsy fool,
l told you to stay still.

That's enough for today.

No, you wait.

The exhibition.

- Did Zola come?
- No.

Alright. The idiot.

lf only he had...

know that l'm bowling Paris
over with my masterpieces.

Forgive me.

lf only Cezanne had genius,
Zola...

many critics thought that
Zola's book was about Cezanne but

time will pass and people will understand
that Zola's book was just story.

People.

Cezanne.

l so wanted Cezanne to join us
at Giverny that day.

l was worried
he'd be too shy to come.

Want to meet you, celebrated
sculptor Auguste Rodin is here.

l wanted him to know he did
have admirers and true friends.

No, that's my hat,
that's my hand. Thank you.

Thank you for shaking my hand sir.

Shall we?

Oh yes, Renoir is celebrating
the birth of his second son.

lt seems that family life is finally
suiting him after all these years.

They've called him Jean.

Yes it's lovely.

Many of us here have been
following you for years Cezanne

and we know why the younger
artists look to you for guidance,

those who were so quick to condemn
you will find themselves astonished.

A new era of art is opening.

Well, it is the promised land then
they certainly won't let me in.

Cezanne, you have
shown us the future.

- Bravo.
- Bravo.

What Cezanne achieved
will be appreciated.

Not too late for Picasso and Matisse
and the others he influenced,

but too late for Cezanne.

He laid the foundations
for a new century,

for a new generation
of modern painters.

He died oh, must be
fifteen years ago,

wishing, like all of us,
that he had more time.

We're not
revolutionaries anymore,

we're a tradition.

Can you believe it, a room of
our own at the great exhibition.

lf l could have
twenty more years to work,

l would create
things that would endure.

At least we're still alive, hey.

To the greatest living painter.

To myself.

- To myself.
- To myself.

To Bazille.

To Manet.

Manet.

DENas struggled
on into his eighties.

He found new passions,
sculpture and photography.

His work has endured and
has become even more popular.

Renoir was famous
all around the world

and fated as a society portraitist,
much to his delight.

He died last year.

December nineteen nineteen,
took part of my life with him.

lt's nearly finished.

You seem to be getting closer
and closer to your subject.

Most likely what l'm attempting
is beyond my powers.

Most likely l shall die
without knowing.

Monet has outlived them all.

Now he is a hero.

One of the most successful
painters who ever lived,

the father of impressionism.

We have his paintings

and his garden,
the fleeting moments,

an impression of life.