All language subtitles for The Artist s01e03

Dear reader, in order to understand how
the very thought of a

casual killing might have permeated our
home in the country, it's first very

important to understand the times that
we lived in.

Miss! Miss!

God damn, it's hot.

It feels hot in here. You feel it? Huh?

Hot. Oh, no, my darling. I call it kind
of breath. Are you catching something?

God damn it. Please, don't fucking
contradict me like that. I didn't think

was. A loony one. I was merely
clarifying, which I should not have

that was wrong of me. It was wicked,
Harry, and I'm sorry for that. Just a

simple clarification?

Is that it? That's fabulous. You fucking
cunts.

I was just merely clarifying my love.
No, no, no, you're a good girl. You're a

good fucking girl.

Will somebody please take my fucking
coat? There's bloody boiling in here.

damn it. Come on.

Harry. What? What about Mother? We can't
leave her here.

Have her meet us at the fucking table.

Okay, well, she needs help, Harry. Then
fucking help her.

Okay. God damn it.

Suck my cock.

What the fuck?

Hey.

What the fuck are you looking at?

Evelyn Nesbitt. Nothing could prepare
her for the fame and notoriety that

befall her a mere hour later.

I said, this is wonderful. I've never
seen a real -life camel before.

No, it's a big fucking camel, too.

From an early age, she was a model.

If you can call it that.

Can you?

Pull your shirt off your shoulder,
darling.

Lower, my pet. Lower.

Could you hike up your dress? Hike your
skirt up a bit. Could you bend over and

touch your toes?

Poor girl with a workhorse. But it
wasn't enough to support both Evelyn and

widowed mother.

You know, I'd love to perform like this
someday.

What did you just say? She would marry
Harry Thaw out of desperation, not love.

He would put a roof over her head and in
return... Harry.

Hello, darling. Hi. You're not meant to
be here. I'm meant to be here. You're my

wife. She had promised her virginity.
Harry, no, stop it. Harry, Harry. Not

not yet. I'm not ready.

You're not ready.

No, no.

What do you mean you're not ready? I'm
not ready. You're my wife. I know. I'm

sorry. Harry.

Let me just... No, Harry. No, get off
me.

Forgive me, I'm sorry.

I forgive you, my love.

Soon.

Soon. Sam, say your mind.

I'm yours.

Soon.

Good night.

Good night.

The only problem, Evelyn Nesbitt was not
a virgin.

Not even close.

Was not her first benefactor. Good
evening, Evelyn. My dear.

Good evening, Stanford.

Excuse me, who the fuck are you?

Mr. White.

Stanford what? The architect of Madison
Square Garden. So?

Excuse me? I said so.

I understood the word. I'm sincerely
confused by the context. The context is

escaping you? Is that what you...
Forgive me. Um, Harry, I didn't

This is, um...

He's a very good old friend of mine and
my mother's. He named me since I was a

child. We're very close friends. Yeah,
you said that already. You're repeating

yourself now.

Did I? Yeah. Oh.

And who might you be?

I'm her husband.

Yeah, that's right. I'm her fucking
husband.

Yes. Harry, please.

She said that.

Seems you're repeating yourself. I'm a
smart guy. Well, enjoy the evening.

Harry, he's not. He's not. Harry, Harry,
come on. I love you. What are you

talking about? Let's go home. Let's
spend the night together.

Enjoy the show. Good evening.

You lied to me. No, I didn't.

You fucking lied to me. No, I didn't.
Yeah, you fucking did. You fucking lied

me.

That's what you fucking did.

He had her on a fucking swing.

Don't, Harry. No, no, no. He had her
every which way on a velvet fucking

What?

Shut up.

Eat your fucking shrimp.

Dance.

Fucking dance.

Play some music.

That's good.

Fucking right.

I'm sure you're wondering what this
murder has to do with me.

Well, everything.

I appreciate that moment, you know, for
trusting me on this one.

There'll be other deal, I promise.

Harry sent a note.

What? Harry? What?

What? Harry?

Yeah.

From prison?

Yeah. He wants us to look after Evelyn
and, you know, until the trial.

Oh, God, you didn't agree to this
preposterous notion, did you? He sent a

He sent a note on Tombs Prison
letterhead.

So, you know, send a note back on Henry
letterhead. Marion, Marion, she's

coming, and there's nothing we can do to
stop her.

He's been a good friend, financially
speaking.

We owe him.

We owe him, we owe him, we owe him. Why,
why does everything always have to be

so drab and transactional?

Well, because life is drab and
transactional, Marion.

It's what you do with it.

Mr. Henry!

Yes. Mr. Henry! Yes, yes!

The artist, sir.

He's in your study.

I know. That's why I told him to meet
me.

Yes, but the thing is...

Take this! In the name of God!

What are you doing?

I make room.

Room? Yeah. There's room. There's plenty
of fucking room all over the house.

Real art needs space.

Real art needs to breathe.

Real art needs life.

Take it easy.

Leave it. Leave it.

This isn't real art. This is an
investment.

An investment. It'll live down in the
basement in a vault in a crate. You're a

damn madman.

Your turn now, Celia.

Oh, for fuck's sake. I just sat down to
steam a cooter.

What is the debt from your pay for this?
You shall not!

The poodles were more than catalysts! I
don't know who you think you are.

Honestly, I don't.

Where is my money, Mr. Henry?

Where is my money?

I shall pay you your money once I have
the piece appraised to insurance in the

style and liking to the value that we
had agreed on. And then I shall deduct

damages, and then I'll write you a
promissory note.

No, I will not take a promissory note.
You will. I will not! I take cash!

Compris?

You're not simply a fraud.

Pardon? You heard me.

You do not utter words as such in the
presence of a man that has

dedicated his entire life to holding a
mirror up to society with his

brush.

Yada, yada, yada.

It's a little bit breezy up there on
that soapbox.

Oh, my heavenly father, what in the
name... Wait a moment.

The bones of an artist will live
forever, whilst the pike of a rich man

shall fade to dust.

And do you know why? Because the rich
have no soul.

How does it feel to have contributed
nothing of value?

In this world, nothing.

Want to know how I made my money?

I don't care.

You should.

Because it's why you're here.

Is it not?

I pick up the pieces.

Paper, rags, copper, lead, steel. I'm a
junk man.

I'm a middle man. I'm the glue.

I pick up their crap, I feed it back
into the furnace, I turn it around, and

shove it right back down their fucking
throats.

And there's an art to that.

That's why you're here, my friend.

My contemporaries, they wanted the
biggest business. The flashiest. Not me.

just want to be everywhere. I want to be
everywhere all at once. And I am.

I'm everywhere all at once. In business
and especially in my home.

I see how she looks at you.

My wife.

Don't make me nervous.

You should never intend to make me
nervous.

Or I won't pay you for your painting.

Mr. Henry.

Mr. Henry, sir, the company has arrived.

The new company.

Okay, tell Mrs. Henry where they are.

I mean, it was horrid.

I mean, have you ever seen a man's
brains just splayed out across his

Terrible accident.

No accident. I mean, God, do you read
the papers?

It's just sensationalism at its finest,
darling.

Yeah, sensationalism at its finest.

You know, Harry walked right across the
room, and he just shot him in front of

the whole ballroom.

It's not that it was a shock to me,
because I am the first to say that Harry

belongs in a ward. I was his wife, okay?

But it wasn't the craziest tort.

Do we need to know? Do you know what
Harry said before he shot him?

In front of everyone?

In front of a room full of status?

You do not need to reenact this,
darling. Harry helped it got out to

And he points it at me.

And then he points it back to Stanford
and he says, You ruined her, Stanford.

You ruined her in every which way.

He said... that he said you ruined her
in every which way i mean as if i need

the whole city knowing that i had been
with stanford white in every which way

wasn't much of a surprise to the city
darling you know he raped me it was a

raping i mean look in the conventional
sense of the word i what's the

unconventional i didn't mean to be with
him for anything more than just money

you can even ask mommy she was right
there in the room when it happened isn't

that right mommy

She was in?

Yes. The room? And I would wake up
aching from the waist down every

so eventually I just thought that...
You're safe now, and you can stay here

long as you like.

What's your name?

Mrs. Henry.

Have you ever been taken up the asshole
while you were sleeping, Mrs. Henry?

Have you?

No, ma 'am.

We don't sleep in the same bed, Evelyn.

That's a shame.

Apparently not.

Why'd you marry him if you're not going
to sleep with him?

Well, you know, for love.

Anyway,

just make yourself comfortable, you
know? You can stay as long as you like.

won't be here long.

Just until they need me for the trial.

You hear they're calling it the crime of
the century?

I don't know. It kind of makes me lead
billing.

What?

You don't think I can pull it off?

Pull what off?

I mean, I get a really handsome cash
bonus if Harry's acquitted of the

Cash bonus?

Yes. From whom?

Well... From Harry.

Are you daft?

He's your husband, Daft.

Darling, he shot Stanford White in cold
blood right in front of you.

I wouldn't get my hopes up for a cash
bonus if I were you.

Oh, Mrs. Henry.

This is not murder in cold blood.

This is the crime of the century.

I knew the moment I laid eyes on her
that Evelyn Nesbitt was going to be the

star she had always dreamt of being.

I also knew it would be for all the
wrong reasons.

Service!

Service!

Service!

They say Harry to be released in
January.

I'm not sure.

My husband insisted on a fine dinner for
Evelyn and her lobotomized mother that

evening.

It was a dinner we could not afford.

And he insisted I join a lot of them.
It's a fucking strip.

This.

Beast, sir. I don't see the beast.

Well. He's certifiably insane, you know.

A pointless charade if I've ever been a
part of one.

I mean, he can't be held accountable for
what he did.

That is what the doctors say.

Perhaps your love struck.

This is Henry. How would I know love?
I'm only 16.

Anyone here know a chap by the name of
Mark?

Twain? You know, I'm to be fit for a new
wardrobe before the trial. This man,

Charles Frederick Worth, is doing it.
And he is amazing. Everyone knows a chap

by the name of Charles Twain. Not much
to wait. What have you got against

America?

He's a designer.

Wrong.

He's an inventor now.

Well, the lawyers have a plan to get
Harry off, which involves making me some

sort of star.

I don't know how I could do that. He
invented the female shoulder strap.

Female shoulder strap. He's made it
adjustable.

Most inventors are artists.

Most funded innovators are artists.

What kind of thought? I hope you're not
using my money to fund his invention.

But I'm preparing myself for the thick
of it nonetheless.

That's not how investments work.

Your money's safe with me until the...
Until the place it comes from. When will

he come?

It's scheduled.

Coming shortly.

Enjoy your beef.

I'll be on my house.

Do you know something?

I do believe this may be the last
evening that I'm in a room with real

you know, without ulterior agendas and
such.

Lily, would you mind going elsewhere
with a fit you're throwing?

Or at least give it to us in English so
we can be in on it, yeah?

You know what I mean a lot.

Don't do anything, they might see you on
the street, Lily.

They don't know the missus like we do.

What is it you do?

Well, I'm a dancer and a singer.

I'm also an actress.

I was formerly a model, but that's a
pathway, you know, with and without me.

Your work.

What is your work?

Well, I'm standing testimony for my
husband,

Harry. Your question was pointed.

No?

I don't appreciate the tone.

Let us toast to the most meaningful

performance of young Miss Nesbitt's
life.

May it be fleeting, immediate, and
daring.

It must be the most...

A convincing performance that the world
has ever seen.

Well, I believe I'm simply reading from
a script.

But thank you.

The world expects for you to tell the
truth.

And they want you to put up a mirror up
to society.

To speak from the soul.

However uncomfortable that may be, they
want to know

you.

I, um... I don't believe I know me.

Exactly! That is art.

The exploration.

The searching.

are self -loathing.

Monsieur Henry, you pay a lot of money

for the real life.

We, some of us, we have to live it.

We have to live it.

Adam.

Bring me my fucking money.

fucking French.

Am I right?

Yeah.

He's been paid.

He wasn't serious about the money bit.

Because he's been paid.

You know, Harry, he used to withhold my
allowance until I let

him, you know, lick my inner thighs
while I was chained to the bedpost.

On that illustrious note, I shall retire
to my quarters.

Good evening, ladies.

They're in.

Good evening.

Artists, painters galore. This just in.
A new gang's in town, and they're called

the Impressionists.

Making a ruckus across the pond, these
painters are bucking tradition and

painting outside of the studio.

Capets, landscapes, ballerinas, get your
Impressionist painting today.

Shipping to America. Available on the
Mauritania while room remains.

Why did you lie, Mr. Mulroney?

I didn't lie.

I don't know.

You told them that I had been paid.

You told them that it was a silly joke.

Mrs. Henry, you don't think that they're
going to embarrass me

when I get up there for the trial?

Because admittedly, all this talk of
truth makes me nervous.

Have you not heard the rumors?

Monsieur Henry, I do not take kindly to
swindlers.

What the fuck you're talking about?

It's a fucking painter.

Victor? Yes?

For you?

Perhaps. The Grim Reaper.

You have done nothing wrong, and you
have nothing to be embarrassed about.

You don't actually believe that, do you?

Help me!

Somebody help me!

Excuse me. Somebody help me!

Norman, are you all right?

I'm all right. Norman. I think you were
right. What about?

I think he's some sort of murderer.

I think he's Jack the fucking Ripper, I
think.

We just got to give him the money, get
him out of here. Norman, you just said

that you'd already paid him. I did.

I did, I did, I did. I said that, I said
that. I'm sorry I said that.

Norman, you have to go back to your
room. You have to go to the safe. You

to prepare the bills.

We will handle them together.

I don't think... I don't think we have
the bills.

How many do you think you have, Norman?

I don't know. You don't know. Well, you
had better check. Why don't you have

better check right now? Because you
commissioned a painting that has already

been completed.

Well, the appraiser hasn't been here
yet. Fuck the fucking appraiser! It's a

fucking portrait of fucking Poodle, you
fucking... Fuck!

Marry it.

Totally be married.

You can hear me?

You certainly know that you're capable
of following instructions. Don't you

walk away from me. You accosted my
husband under the Henry roof.

Under the Henry roof.

Your husband, your husband, he owes me
money.

So what?

Loads of people owe money.

I just, that's no excuse for this kind
of degradation.

Look, my husband is a very sensitive
man.

And he really tries his best.

And I, for one, believe that he has been
misunderstood in this particular

instance. No, no, no. There's been no
misunderstanding.

I am to be paid for the work that I have
done, for the work that has been

completed, for the work that sits in the
corner facing the wall in shame because

it has not been appraised as such.

Don't scare me like that.

You don't know what I'm feeling.

I don't know.

You don't know what I've been through
this evening.

Do not lecture me on the burdens of your
life. I'm sick of hearing about you and

catering to you.

You made promises to me first. Shut up.
You made promises. Shut up, shut up,

shut up. You made promises to me.

What are you talking about? You ever
pull a stunt like that again, and you

find yourself bludgeoned.

In what sense?

In the physical sense, sir.

I am a trained boxer.

You are a woman.

Yes,

I am.

I am a woman.

I expected more from you. Yeah.

Most do.

Do not treat me like an imbecile up here
in London in the pantry while the

stench of your new waltz... Fuck!

You're talking about Evelyn Nesbitt?

You think I'd be stupid enough to sleep
with Evelyn Nesbitt?

You see what her husband did to the last
one? You know what I see before me?

What? I see a failed...

miserable, greedy old artist who's so
lost and blind that he can only follow

scent of money.

And, well, actually, that's absolutely
fine by me, but just don't bring your

ideas of truth and purpose into this
house. That's just dangerous, and it's

just, it's bullshit.

You will send me back to Paris to star
in Les Cisons or A Cappella, or I will.

You will what?

I found you on the streets.

You're nothing more than a pickpocket.

Who can spin?

No,

God.

I'm so sorry, Lily.

I don't want to. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

My dear, dear girl.

Let us say our prayers.

I'm grateful tonight for our bed and for
the food

we eat and the clothes we wear.

But really, I am grateful for this
stage.

Because one day, I will be a great big
stage actress.

And everyone will love me, Mother. They
will all love me.

Look, we don't want any trouble.

My... husband is a man of his word, and
as are the men who vouch for him. And at

this very moment, he's in his room. He's
in our safe. He's counting out your

bills.

He

is?

Yes, he's counting out your bills,
and...

He has the bills.

Yes, yes, yes, he has the bills.

Well,

if we all survive the night, you may
just very well be able to claim those

as your own.

I thought that was a great relief.

Lily?

What are you doing?

Writing my sonata.

Even if we don't have Paris.

We still have this.

You know, my sister is an artist.

Yeah.

She's a sculptor or, I don't know,
something in the physical form. And,

No, no, no.

Lily, stay still.

It's dangerous.

Lily, Lily, stop.

She goes across the country and, you
know, that's a really very, very

world from this. And I guess I'm just
trying to say that, um... No, no, no,

Well, I understand the life of a
struggling artist, I guess.

That's what I'm trying to say.

The embarrassing life of Edgar the God.

We'll see no more.

No. You shouldn't be ashamed.

You value your art above everything
else.

I admire that.

I think there's something rather
romantic about it. What did you say?

I said, uh, the, um, embarrassing life,
I think.

No, no, no, the other bit.

Could it have been true that the man
painting my poodles was, in fact,

one of the most acclaimed impressionists
of all time?

The very same impressionist...

who would sit shoulder to shoulder with
the likes of Renoir, Pizarro, and Monet.

Your head could take off.

What have they done to you?

The world is cruel to old men.

And yet, everything would change the
moment I touched it.