Original subtitles

He's always out for trouble, that one.

That's for my father.

Shows over.

What's going on here then?

Sir.

Was that young Armand I saw you fighting with?

Aye sir.

Over what?

Over crazy red, that painter guy he used to know.

Really?

He dropped that, sir.

I'll take it in.

At ease, soldier.

Causing trouble again I see.

You dropped your letter outside.

It's not my letter.

It's Vincent's.

It's to Theo Van Gogh.

That's Vincent's brother, isn't it?

Yeah, Vincent left it behind.

His old landlord Geno was having a clear out and found it.

So he gave it to my father and father told me

I have to deliver it.

Like it's my business.

My job is to bash metal into shape not Deliver letters.

Help yourself why don't you?

Well he doesn't need it, does he?

I don't see the point in delivering a dead man's letter.

Your father just wants to pay his respects.

What for?

What did that nobody ever do for us?

Making my family hated when my old man refused

to sign that petition.

To throw him out of the town-

- I signed it.

And, that's well and good, he was mad.

He wasn't.

He was an interesting man.

Things only got strange when that friend of his

Gauguin came.

Vincent was all enthusiastic for his yellow house

to become this hostel for painters.

And, Gauguin would be the master.

Where's the chair'?

Yeah, perfect.

But, when he finally came,

they quickly went from firm friends to being

at each other's throats.

No, no, no you can't go.

No, you can't go.

Calm down, Vincent.

Beverly.

Hello Vincent.

I brought you a gift.

Have you been fighting?

Take good care of it.

Oh sweet.

Are you alright?

Interesting man?

That's not how I remember him.

That nutcase has cut off his ear.

Your dad sewing it back on is he?

No, he's helping.

Well that figures one drunk and crazy

helping another.

Go on say it!

Say it again.

The trial's next week.

Did not think there were any left

not after him losing.

Oh they're back, crawling back in.

Evening gents, have you seen my son?

Ah Mr. Roulin, yes you'll find him inside.

He's meant to be on a train to Paris.

He don't look like he's planning on going anywhere

right now.

We'll soon see about that.

He's in trouble.

The boy looks for it.

Evening Joseph.

Why can't You just post it?

I did, the letter got returned as undeliverable.

Well if your postal service can't find him,

what makes you think I can?

Just use your initiative son.

An important man like Mr. Theo Van Gogh

ask around.

But, what do I say when I find him?

It's customary to start with I'm sorry for your loss.

Let's got you sobered up.

I can't go it's too late.

It's a nice night.

You're to convey deepest condolences

from myself, your mother, and your brother.

Oh, and don't forget Little Marcel.

She was his friend too.

She was 10 months old.

Babes are like animals son.

They can know the heart of a man just by the size of 'em.

No, they can't.

They're less fickle than grown-ups.

Just look at Geno.

He takes Vincent's money with a smile for a whole year

and then signs a petition condemning him.

Hey, mind you say that Geno had the letter

for two years.

I don't want Mr. Theo thinking that we been sitting on it.

Tell him how Geno didn't even bother

handing it over to me until he heard

that Vincent had...

Killed himself?

Why do you find that so hard to believe?

You saw what happened here.

He had a breakdown.

It happens to people.

If they're weak.

Live longer, you'll see.

Life can even bring down the strong.

After the ear, nobody would even give him a chance.

Even kids were tormenting him.

Get out of here!

Go on, get out of here!

We are the kings.

I call it weak letting kids chase him

into the nuthouse.

And his neighbors, and the police, and the mayor,

and the whole town!

Against an ill man!

He even checked himself into Saint Remy to get better

and so he did.

He got discharged, cured.

It doesn't mean he stayed cured, does it?

I feel absolutely calm and in a normal state.

This is what he writes me six weeks before he's dead.

How does a man go from being absolutely calm

to being suicidal in six weeks?

It's sad, I get that.

But, what good will delivering that letter do now?

They were very close.

Vincent would write his brother every day.

I know I'm the one who collected the letters.

If it were me, I'd want it.

If it was you, heavens forbid, if you had died

and there was a letter out there that you had sent to me,

I'd want it.

Wouldn't you want it if it was me?

Whoa, lunatic!

We could go to the Park.

Yeah, but It's probably still muddy.

I heard you were Vincent's paint supplier.

So I thought you might know Theo.

We need a drink I think.

It's brandy.

Do take a seat.

He wasn't at the address we've got.

The guy there said you might know.

I'm afraid you'll never deliver that Letter

to Theo Van Gogh.

Oh, I see.

Well how come?

Two hearts, one mind that's what Vincent told me.

Maybe that was the case after all

because after Vincent died, Theo went

into sharp decline.

Can I get you something my love?

He'd been poorly before,

but Vincent's death destroyed him.

He had actually been with him a whole day

at the end, but Vincent insisted they use the time

to discuss life not death.

And, no suicide note either, so it stayed a mystery.

And, Theo 'just keep asking why'?

Six months after we buried Vincent, Theo was dead loo.

Wow, the two of them.

So how did Vincent die?

He shot himself in the fields above Auvers

by his easel doing what he loved painting to the end.

Do you know why?

No.

Theo thought his unhappiness went right back to childhood.

He tried so hard to fit into his family.

But, he never succeeded in this.

Vincent told me he was the oldest but Not The first.

There was another Vincent, a stillborn older brother:.

He thought that boy was the perfect Vincent

that he could never measure up to in his mother's eyes.

He struggled to be what they wanted him to be.

He joined his uncle's art dealership

and was thrown out in disgrace.

He tried for his father's profession, the church,

but the pastor exams were too hard for him,

so he took a job as a lowly missionary.

He managed to get sacked even from that.

Yet another dead end.

But, Theo says he believes in him

and that if Vincent will fight for himself,

he will fight alongside him.

And, that was it.

Vincent picks up a brush for the first time at 28,

and with Theo's support, there is no stopping him.

So what happened then?

Paris happened.

He came here of course.

They all do.

Everyone does.

Monet, Toulouse, Seingnac, Bernard, Manet, everybody

because everything that happens in art happens here.

And, where do they all buy their paints?

Pare Tanguy's of course.

Waitress a drink.

Make it pure.

Cheers.

We'll see if it's pure.

We'll keep that, thank you.

Pure is purer.

We must Be fine, to the buyer an ego

like no other I grant you.

But, a weekend painter.

Look at him always drawing.

What is it you were saying on entry?

Which way up is it?

Grow up Henri.

Lei me finish it in a minute for him.

Oh I forgot You can't.

You're being vile.

The vile doth deny.

For many artists, Paris is a final destination

but not for him.

It was a stopover to learn what he needed to learn,

and then he was off in search of his own path.

You've done it.

It Was in his sleep.

It's the kindest thing.

I saw him once more after two years.

He was calmer, more assured.

Take good care.

And, I thought this is a man whose story will end well.

His star finally rising, his revolution won.

So think how shocking it was to be standing

over Vincent's coffin just six weeks later.

So sad.

For many he died a martyr for art,

but for me, it seems odd.

Why?

In only eight years, he had traveled

from amateur to an artist of influence, unbelievable.

Monet declared him the shining star

of the Independent Artist's Fair.

And, he was cured according to his doctor,

Dr. Gachet who had looked after Vincent in Auvers.

I met him at the funeral.

There were just a few artists from Paris and him.

I could've thought he was Vincent's brother.

He was the one who made the speech,

and he cried all the way through it.

And, an hour later he was running around taking Vincent's

best paintings off the wall as if they were his.

And, they were, his fee, for treating Vincent.

It seemed odd that the doctor had Theo's full confidence.

I understand he's still close to the Van Gogh family.

Maybe you should ask him why Vincent did it.

It's my father who wanted to know why.

I just wanted to deliver this letter for him.

The Van Gogh's are only ghosts in Paris now.

I'm afraid you're going to have to take

this letter back to your father with my condolences.

Dear Father, looks like I'm continuing

my journey.

I need to find a new recipient as unfortunately Theo

is dead.

There is this doctor who I believe is the person

to entrust the letter lo.

So, I'm going to Auvers.

Make some excuse to my boss.

Morning mam.

Yes.

I'm here to see Dr. Gachel.

Really?

Do you happen to have an appointment?

No.

I have a letter from Vincent Van Gogh,

a friend of my father's from home.

Do you now?

You know he's actually passed away?

Yes.

The doctor's in Paris.

He won't be back till tomorrow.

I'll make sure the doctor gets the letter.

I'd rather deliver it in person.

I want to ask the doctor about Vincent.

Well I can tell you about him.

He was evil.

Is that a medical opinion?

I could tell at first glance it would end in trouble.

He had these,

Hello?

Hello mam.

Bewildered eyes in which there was

something insane, something which you dare not look.

Just straight through at the back in the garden actually.

Well nothing has been the same since he came here.

I'll get you a message.

Tell me when it's convenient for the doctor to see you

where are you in residence?

Where did Vincent reside?

Oh at the Ravoux Inn.

Well you can find me there.

No, you don't Want to stay there.

It's a hole.

Doctor booked him somewhere proper.

But, probably suited him better in a hole.

Well still that's where you can send word.

You're not gonna stir things up again are you?

I've had quite enough weeping over that nutcase

in this household.

(rain pattering}.

You looking for something?

Looking for the owner.

Speaking to her.

You're the owner'?

Well my parents are, but they're visiting me auntie,

so I guess for the next two days I'm the proprietress.

That's a fine dress.

Suitable attire for a proprietress.

I don't get lo wear it that often

when my father's hers.

Always got errands for ma.

Well that's life.

Fancy something?

I won't say no to a hot coffee.

So what brings you lo Auvers?

A friend of my father's Vincent Van Gogh.

We just found out he killed himself.

He stayed here.

I know.

Were you here when it happened?

It was so dreadful.

I sewed the tenants dinner at seven.

And, he wasn't there.

He came later though.

But, something was very wrong.

Mr. Vincent?

Vincent, are you alright sir?

My father went after him.

Vincent?

What's happened Vincent?

Are you alright?

Oh my God!

What have you done?

I tried to kill myself.

And Dr. Gachet was called.

He didn't even say one word to Vincent.

The two of them just looked at each other

like two angry wolves.

And, Vincent's lying on this bed

and a bulletin his belly.

He's crying out in pain asking when someone

would remove it, and Dr. Gachet, an ex military doctor,

I mean he should know how to remove a bullet.

He does nothing!

He just decided the case was hopeless and left.

The next morning rumors about Vincent had spread

all over town.

And, at eight o'clock, Gendarme Rigaumon

comes knocking.

What are you doing?

Can't you leave the man in peace?

Can't you see he's not Well?

I'm just being thorough, Mr. Ravoux, that's all.

Where's the gun?

No idea.

No idea.

My father sent him away.

He said Rigaumon is the last person

a dying man should have to see.

Mr. Theo came in the afternoon, and he comes in

yelling, "What happened?"

"How?"

That was the terrible thing is that no one really knew.

And, then, you know, it was normal and calm.

And, you know I honestly thought.

It was all gonna lo he fine.

If only I could've been one of them.

But, as the night came, a fever in him

rose, and he was getting weaker.

And, about half past one, Theo comes downstairs.

And, we all knew that is was over,

and Vincent was dead.

What do you think happened?

Did you see it coming?

He was happy here.

I honestly thought He was.

You know Dr. Gachet tried to gel him to say somewhere else?

But, no.

He liked our place.

No, you're going to ruin your dress.

Well you're light.

You'll get messy.

Do you want a room?

It depends on the cost?

Come on you.

How much is the room?

It depends on the room.

Another foreigner.

He liked us, and we liked him.

He was a nice, quiet man.

Sure.

What you didn't like him?

It's not that I-

- He could do unusual things because he was painting,

but otherwise he was normal.

Unusual how?

On his first day, I remember because it was

a day like today.

This big storm broke, and everyone's rushing for shelter.

And, I saw him.

He's just standing there in the rain, in his suit.

And, I thought, you know, must be first day excitement.

But, no he was always like that.

Always painting day in, day out no matter what the weather.

I heard he was close to the doctor.

What Dr. Gachet?

No, I wouldn't have said that.

He kept rather to himself.

He was definitely close to his brother

judging by the amount of letters.

I know my dad was his postman.

So you know.

I was wondering when he slept painting all day,

writing these long letters, always reading

these fat hooks.

I guess you could say he was well organized.

Vincent?

Yeah, you could set your watch by him.

Painting from eight until five.

You'd think he was going off to a regular job.

He went all over, Chaponval, the fields, the woods,

the river.

He really liked the river.

Speak to the boatman,

Watch your step.

He'll tell you.

Oh dear.

I'm in.

Enjoy yourselves ladies.

Thank you so much.

Bye.

Armand Roulin friend of the late Vincent Van Gogh.

Pleasure.

I heard he liked to hang around the river.

Vincent, yeah.

Yeah, he used to come down here.

Even before dawn to catch some special kind of light.

Now I don't know much about light catching,

but I know you can set your eyes on a lot of life down here

if you catch my drift?

Good lo know.

He didn't talk so much.

Mostly just sat around watching, sometimes painting.

And, this one time it was just us,

me fishing, him painting.

Now it wasn't as peaceful as it sounds.

He made all sorts of noises while he painted

puffing like a steam engine.

And, then suddenly it was all silent,

and he looked so happy that This dirty crow

was coming close.

He didn't seem to care that it ran off with his lunch.

And, I thought to myself how lonely is this guy

that even a thieving crow brightens up his day?

Later that summer, he would hang around these rich boys

who threw big boating parties.

They always came with girls, unruly ones if you know

what I mean?

Hey!

Yeah we could do with a bit of money.

Well is it paid?

Vincent seems shy around them.

Come on.

He never did have much luck with women.

You think?

And, then he comes here with the Gachet girl.

I saw her pretty in a porcelain sort of way.

That's her, a real quiet type.

I've been working in (his village

since before the Gachefs moved here,

and I never got to speak a word with her.

Yet her and Vincent, they were chatting in that way,

you know, like speaking to each other was

the most exciting thing ever.

All I could see was just your foot.

God knows what she saw in him.

Must've been twice her age, and next to her,

he looked like a tramp.

What, you think there was something going on?

They said they were here to paint,

but they took a boat, couples often do.

But, I will tell you this.

Vincent, he looked like he was all right.

Then he comes here with a girl who I reckon

was out of his league, and the next thing I hear

he's killed himself.

Maybe you should talk to her.

I'm not sure their housekeeper would let me.

That one.

Spends her afternoons at the church.

She's some kind of warden there.

She certainly wards me off.

Here you must be thirsty.

On the house.

How nice you are?

Won't your dad mind?

He's not here to mind.

I'll tell you what I'll have this one

if you let me buy one for you.

I was wondering were Vincent and Marguerite friends?

The boatman said they were friendly.

Well that would explain why she takes

flowers to his grave everyday.

Oh, and it might explain that big argument

between him and the doctor.

What argument?

More than one person saw Vincent leave

the doctor's place slamming the gale so hard

it's a wonder it didn't come off its hinges.

But, the housekeeper, she was going round

saying that Dr. Gachel had stopped Vincent

from seeing his daughter.

Dr. Gachel is crazy protective over his daughter.

He doesn't want her talking, where are you going?

To church.

God bless.

Oh glad to see you're honoring God, not like your friend.

My father's friend.

You know Vincent actually did his ungodly act

on a Sunday?

That's not the half of it.

I saw him that Day.

I was on my way to church.

Laughing and joking with those Sacretain boys,

drinking they were laughing at God,

knowing what he was going to be doing on God's day.

When I think what he put the poor doctor through,

marching in with his brother like they were royally,

like it was his garden, like they were his guests.

Well his brother might have been dressed smart,

but it looked like he'd dropped down dead

before he made it to table.

I could see the fever in his eyes at first glance.

And, the great artist himself, always skulking about,

gobbling our food, just making messes in corners.

Oh well, mustn't keep our Lord wailing.

I wondered how long it would take you to come back.

He painted you didn't he?

So why are you here?

Where else would I be?

Oh, I don't know let's see.

Sailing around the world, catching a thief,

chatting up a pretty girl.

Because I want to do something for Vincent.

I'm sure there's a lot you can do for him

now that he's dead.

I heard you take flowers to his grave everyday.

Isn't that doing something for Vincent

even though he's dead?

Oh that.

I just do that out of respect.

He was a great artist.

He liked flowers.

Still seems real nice of you.

You must've been friendly.

I wouldn't say so.

He was here to see father.

He was his doctor, and he became his friend.

It's hardly surprising.

They were both artists.

They liked the same painters.

They understood each other.

When father invited Vincent's brother

and their family for Sunday lunch, Vincent joked

about my father was the third brother.

Cheers everyone.

So you were like one big family than?

He painted here sometimes.

It was part of the treatment my father recommended.

But, we didn't socialize.

So when you went to the river,

that wasn't socializing?

The river?

The boatman says you took a boat together,

said it looked like you knew each other pretty well.

Well people think they see all sorts of things

in this village.

Must've been some other girl.

Hold you I barely knew him.

It was father he was here for.

They were like minds.

They agreed on everything.

Everything really?

Ravoux girl said Vincent and Dr. Gachet argued.

My you really have been slumming it.

I don't care for village gossip.

She said people saw Vincent storming out of here

not long before his death, and your dad was running

after him.

So what?

You think there was some argument with my father

and that's why Vincent is dead?

You think it's my father's fault do you?

I didn't say that.

I think it would be best if you leave now.

Good day.

Thank you.

Busy night?

Not really.

There's your cheese.

And how is your father, Adeline?

He's well, thank you.

Can I get you anything else?

No, I'm fine thank you.

Thank you, no.

Good.

Just busy enough not to have to speak to me?

Well if I did sit down for a drink,

I'd be wondering when you'd be getting up

and running off somewhere more important.

Funny thing that.

You actually gave me an idea.

The idea to confront Marguerite Gachet.

Oh so you ran off lo be with the lady of the manor?

How did that work out for you?

She told me she didn't know Vincent.

Hadn't barely exchanged a few formal words with him.

I told you you can't believe a word the Gachefs say.

I remember when Vincent moved in.

People were asking him if he was a relative of Gachet.

Maybe they were similar on the outside.

This is incredible.

They had the same red hair,

and that same sad look in his eyes.

I've never seen anything like it.

But, on the inside, they were chalk and cheese.

Vincent wasn't snobbish like Gachet.

He was really polite and kind.

Well hello, Jeuxmaine.

Up you go.

So what shall we draw tonight?

A chicken please.

I might be seeing something.

Okay a chicken.

Skinny legs like you.

Floppy tail please.

Jomaine what are

you doing out of bed?

She's no trouble.

Come on off to bed with you.

She's no trouble.

I want my chicken back.

Marguerite said the brother came here.

Did you meet him?

No, I heard he came at Gachefs invitation.

Vincent was always saying that they might come here.

Always checking if we had rooms at weekends,

but they never did come.

So did Vincent visit them ever?

No, you know he'd spend hours on hours

writing those letters to his brother

when he could've just hopped on a train.

Oh no, he did go once.

He said his brother's baby was ill.

But, I don't think the visit went that well.

. Why not?

The lea towels.

He said that canvasses were too expensive.

More.

And so now he's only gonna paint

on these old rags.

He painted some pretty flowers, but I don't think

my father was that pleased.

What has the brother got to do with lea towels?

I reckon they argued over money

because it was the brother that bought

all Vincent's painting things.

I know because of the last letter Vincent sent.

Adeline wait.

The day before he killed himself.

When he handed it to me, he said it was urgent.

And, you know I asked if there was anything wrong.

And, he said he'd run out of paints and he placed

a big order for some more 'cause he had lots

of paintings planned.

Don't you think that's odd to place

an order with his brother ii money was an issue

between them and then to kill himself the next day?

It depends, you know, on how balanced he was.

All seemed fine with him.

I mean something must've happened pretty suddenly

for him to become unbalanced.

Like what?

I don't know exactly what.

I'm sure it's got something to do with Gachet.

Do you remember his first day that I told you about?

This letter's from then.

No, I can't Read someone else's letter.

If it's open, it's all right.

My dad's posted me up some money.

I'll open a tab for you,

and you can settle up when your money arrives.

That's very good of you.

This is where he lived?

And, where he died.

Dear Theo and Jo,

it is really very beautiful here.

I feel I see the North all the better

for my trip to the South.

I have settled down to some canvasses

which I hope will go some way lo recovering

the pasts of my slay.

Dr. Gachet is eccentric.

I don't Know how he thinks he can cure me

when he seems at least as sick as I am.

However, I still think that what I have

is mostly a malady of the South, and the the return here

will be enough to dissipate the whole thing.

The thing is the days seem like,

seem like weeks.

The days seem like weeks to me.

I'll be glad is sometime from now you were lo come here

one Sunday with your family.

Very hardy handshakes, your loving Vincent.

What the?

Oy, come here!

Dear father, I'm still waiting to see

the doctor.

I could've just given the letter to the housekeeper

or his daughter, but something happened with Vincent

in that house.

I can tell.

I want to ask the doctor about it.

I've decided to retrace the path that Vincent took

with his easel that Day because what I've been told

doesn't add up.

And, strange things are happening to me too,

but don't worry, nothing that I can't handle.

People here are on edge about Vincent,

about what happened to him.

Everyone has a different story.

Tanguy, the paint supplier, said that Vincent

shot himself in the fields, so does the girl

from the inn.

It seems a very long way for him to have walked

with a mortal would, and I wonder if he wanted

to kill himself, why didn't He just pick up the gun

and finish the job?

Did he change his mind?

Did he want to live after all?

No, I can see you.

It was you last night weren't it?

Oh, not again.

Can I help?

If you could tell me where to find a funny looking boy

with hair all over the place, I want to ring his neck.

Oh that'll be my nephew.

I'm sorry.

He's a bit simple.

Please don't pay him any mind.

He's harmless.

He was following me yesterday and today.

That's not like him.

Did you do something to him?

No, I'm just delivering a letter

for a friend of mine, Vincent Van Gogh.

The Painter fella, yeah foreigner, red fellow.

Yeah that's him.

That'll be it then.

That'll be what then?

Here cider'?

Don't mind if I do.

Thatching is thirsty work.

On the day that the painter fellow was wounded,

we heard a shot coming from that barn.

And, now my nephew, he thinks it's haunted.

But, Vincent shot himself in the fields.

That's what some folks say.

But, I never met a person who actually saw him there.

The police looked for his stuff, and they found nothing,

not the gun nor his painting stuff, nor his paintings.

And, who'd steal that sort of thing?

So you think he shot himself here in that barn?

I'm not saying nothing.

We just heard a shot.

Well why didn't you go in and look?

It could've been anything, kids shooting rats.

No, it were only the next day when I heard

that he'd been shot that I went and looked.

And, there was nothing.

Ii shot himself here, how come you didn't see his stuff?

That is the question.

It's not that he was in a state to move it himself,

and why would anyone else move it?

Oh afternoon Mr. Roulin.

How nice of you to save me the trip to that place.

Doctor sent me to tell you he can see you tomorrow morning.

Slop in at any time.

Great, I was just thinking what you said

about Vincent laughing around and drinking

with those lads on the day of his death.

Where was that?

Well it was right here, exactly here.

Scribbling and scrawling away he was as always.

So he must've already had the gun on him then?

Yeah, I guess he must have.

Well he might've had it amongst his paintings.

Wouldn't want to put it on display would he?

Where do you think he got it from?

Ravoux girl said Gachet was a military man.

Has a gun I guess.

You think he could've taken it from your place?

- Not unless he pill: It hack after.

The doctor does have a gun in his study,

but I dust there every afternoon.

It's never been elsewhere.

Anyway, everyone knows it was old Ravoux's gun.

He keeps it under the counter, little pistol.

And, it's not there anymore.

Well, see you tomorrow.

You were out early.

Long day-

Thirsty work.

And, you've been quenching that thirst I suppose.

Today I heard mention of young lads Vincent

would hang around with.

That would be the Sacretains,

but you won't Find them here.

They're in Paris.

They would often joke around with Vincent especially Rene.

Rene could also take it a little far.

Poor Vincent, he nearly fainted.

But, then Rene would buy him a drink to apologize.

He was like that always picking up the tab,

always buying people drinks.

I was also told that Vincent got the gun from your place.

What?

Who told you that?

We don't even have a gun.

Gachefs housekeeper told me you did.

No.

Father used to own one once, but he didn't reckon

he'd need it here in Auvers, so he sold it.

Before Vincent was shot?

Yes.

We didn't have it than, and don't you go

spreading that squawking hen's gossip.

This came for you.

It says that you've lost your job.

So you're not Good for credit.

Room for one more at your fire?

You look like you've had a day of it.

The Ravoux girl deprived me of my roof for the night.

Here that'll warm you.

Now that's something different.

My own recipe.

So why did the Ravoux girl get the hump'!

Cause I said that maybe Vincent got the gun from them.

No, no old Ravoux sold his gun lo Rene.

Everyone knows that.

He wanted it for a stupid cowboy costume.

He was running around waving it in people's faces

pretending he was in the Wild West.

Good customers, but bad sorts especially the younger one.

Vincent was being gentlemanly towards the girls,

and Rene barges in, "Girls, don't Be bothering with him."

"He cut off his dick as well as his ear."

And, his ear.

Let's go.

These ones are mine.

Gaston, come on.

I'd have smacked the run! If he said that to me.

So why didn't you then?

It wasn't my business.

It wasn't my fight.

So why didn't you make it your fight?

If I said what I wanted to every lad,

I'd have no customers.

Won't you just.

I could've used that.

You could've said something to the boys.

Couldn't you see they were bullying him?

I told you Vincent was hanging around them.

If he didn't want to be there, he could've stood up and left

Maybe he was there because Rene always picked up the tab.

Or, he just felt lonely and liked being around young people

who were enjoying themselves.

How is it my business?

No, you've had enough.

Very friendly of you, turning your hack

just like with Vincent.

What did you do for him?

I don't hear you telling me that.

Were you such a great friend?

I never said I was.

There you go.

Thank you.

Hiya.

Who's he?

Who's he think he is?

Probably some bloody gypsy.

Seem like a Nancy boy in that jacket.

Who's he looking at?

Head down, regular circus.

Look who else is coming in.

Where?

Behind you.

Let's have some fun then.

Are you coming?

You are an idiot Sean.

Who gave birth to that?

Watch me nanny boy's coming.

What's he want then?

. Hey Nancy boy.

Maybe he wants to join me.

My head.

I didn't do that.

No, it were me that landed a punch.

I don't remember.

I think I was drunk.

Oh you think.

If I caused any damage-

- You damaged the pride of a couple of local laughs

that's all.

I hear you were defending the honor

of our village idiot.

Yeah I think they were picking on him.

Well they paid their dues.

But, you didn't need to start on me

when I arrived to restore the peace.

I'm sorry.

You're the lad that was asking about the Dutch guy

that shot himself.

Yeah he's a friend of my dad's.

You know my dad's a postmaster.

Strange company for a respectable man

like a postmaster to keep.

Not really.

Vincent generated more letters than a town,

so it was sort of a business relationship.

So what business do you have here'!

I have an appointment with Dr. Gachet

to talk about Vincent.

I had me eye on him right from the start.

Don't worry it'll be all right.

I'll have a little look around.

So when I come in on Monday morning to hear

he'd shot himself, I'm not surprised.

You're here.

How is Mr. Vincent, any better?

But, he told me what I wanted to know.

It's a bad do, all this you know.

That he tried to kill himself

and not to let anyone else gel the blame.

Like I'd blame anyone else for his crime.

I think we should leave the man in peace.

Even caused me trouble after he were dead.

Dr. Mazery kept pestering me to file his report

even though he knew I already had Gachefs.

Who's Dr. Maury'?

Dr. Malay?

' Yes?

I would never send a report normally.

I mean this was Gachefs case.

Then I read that the patient died two days later

in his room.

So I felt that I should for the record.

I asked the patient how it happened?

He said he had shot himself.

But, I knew he hadn't.

I could tell by his wound.

With suicides, people shoot themselves

in the head.

Either in the temple or through the mouth.

If not, then through the heart, but not through the stomach.

I was suspicious.

The bullet wound, look, stand up.

Stand up.

Come on, let me show you.

There you are back and forth.

That's it, now back like that.

Now you're down there like that,

and now look.

You see there.

You see that's too low an angle.

For what?

He would've had to have fired the gun

with his outstretched toe.

Go on you outstretch your toe.

Just stretch your toe out.

You see.

And, in any case if you fire a bullet point blank range,

it'll go through the body.

Not always, but in all probability.

So if it didn't go through, then the gun

must've been further back.

Like there, bang!

You see?

I see.

Most likely he was shot.

If it isn't the Provence pugilist.

Should I be scared?

I thought you didn't go in for village gossip.

I don't.

That's why one employs servants.

They get it for you.

Did you also hear that your friendly local

gendarme put me up for the night?

So now you're up here contemplating your future.

No actually I was thinking how come you lied

if you've got nothing to hide?

What makes you think I have and duty

to tell you the truth.

Maybe I just thought my life was none of your business.

I wasn't asking about your life.

I was asking about Vincent's death.

You thought that his death and my life were linked?

Yes, but don't think that anymore.

The truth is I'm not important.

He wasn't some lovelorn teenager.

I know.

Did you know he was a genius?

No, I can't Say that I did.

Well I did.

It's not finished yet.

Alright, I'll see it later.

Thank you.

Finished?

He's still working.

And, so did my father.

All his life he has tried so hard to be an artist.

And, then this gruff awkward man without any proper training

who'd only been painting a few years comes barging in

and rushes off in a couple of hours what poor father

couldn't dream of painting in two lifetimes.

My dad would lock himself away and copy them for hours.

Father told me I was distracting Vincent

from important work.

Asked if I really wanted to be responsible

for preventing masterpieces from being born?

And, of course I didn't.

So I started lo not be in or not he well

when Vincent called.

Soon after that, they had an argument,

a terrible row.

It wasn't about me, but maybe my withdrawal

had soured things.

The next time my father saw him,

he had a bullet in his belly.

Are you satisfied now?

You can blame me.

You can blame my father.

You're not to blame.

You've not part in it.

He was shot by some boys.

Some boy named Rene Sacretain.

I'm serious.

I can see that.

Rene': An idiot for sure, but he's not a murderer.

An idiot who drank, who had a gun,

who walked around all summer with it

waving it in people's faces, who bullied Vincent,

who was seen with Vincent on the day of his death,

and his stuff disappears.

He didn't disappear it himself, so there must have been

someone else.

It must've been.

So lonely Vincent resorts to hanging around

with drunken teenagers, and he gets shot.

Or, he shoots himself in despair at his lonely life.

The result is the same.

Either way, instead he could've been

at our place painting if I'd behaved differently,

if him and my father hadn't argued.

But, don't you care that some bastard

may have gotten away with murder?

You want to know so much about his death,

but what do you know of his life?

I know that he tried hard to prove

he was good for something.

Yes, he did.

That's why I take flowers to his grave.

That's all I can do for him now.

He would appreciate the delicate beauty of their bloom

even each blade of their grassy stems.

No detail of life was too small or too humble for him.

He appreciated and loved it all.

Let you out of jail did they?

On account of my winning personality.

It's like trying to out disgrace your friend Vincent.

I'm working on it.

You must be the young man who's been waiting to see me.

Armand Roulin.

Son of the great Joseph Roulin, giant of the South

with Dostoevsky' Soul.

What?

That's what Vincent called your father.

He told me all about him.

He did?

Yes, and your mother,

whose lullaby

could sooth even the souls of Icelandic fisherman.

Come now, Armand of the Roulin clan, take a seat,

be welcome.

Louise, drinks.

What'll you have, wine?

No, thank you.

I had my fill last night.

Ah, tea then.

I have just the recipe.

Louise, you know the one, chop-chop.

So young man, I hear you've been making

something oi a name for yourself these past two days.

Believe me that wasn't my intention.

I just wanted to deliver a letter.

From a dead man lo a dead man I understand.

Yeah, well I didn't Know that when I set out.

A guy I met in Paris thought you might have

the address for Theo's widow.

Seems right the family should have the letter.

That's what my father reckons.

Your father sounds like a responsible man.

I sympathize.

I have to look after the health of great artists.

It is a burden.

They are not peaceful souls.

I understand because I am an artist too.

That is why they trust me.

And, Vincent (rusted you too?

Yes, he did.

Does it mailer now?

I was hoping you'd tell ma.

Tell you what exactly?

Vincent wrote to my father six weeks before he died,

and he said he fell absolutely calm

and in a normal slate.

So I came here hoping you could explain

how he went from absolutely calm and in a normal state

to suicidal.

But, I reckon I know the answer to that.

Oh do you now?

You're familiar with melancholia are you?

I wouldn't say so.

Sufferers can change from feeling life

is a wondrous joy to being stuck in a pit

of despair within six hours.

So think what changes are possible within six weeks.

But, I don't reckon that's it.

Ravoux girl said he was happy here.

She's obviously qualified to make such a diagnosis.

She saw him everyday, said he was calm

and seemed normal.

Maybe he did seem that way, maybe he was that way

in the beginning.

There he is.

He's arrived.

Leaving the asylum had given him fresh hope.

He didn't want for much just his work

from day to day.

It's good to meet you.

Find a little friendship.

I've heard so much about you.

All will be well.

And, did he find a little friendship?

He had it from me.

His friend Tanguy said his star was finally rising.

And, it was.

With each new canvass, he painted a shining star.

But, all of those stars were surrounded by unfathomable,

empty loneliness.

You said he had your friendship and his brother's love.

I mean it seems like everything was all right.

Underneath he was deeply afraid of the future.

To the baby, yes.

Of his own and Theo's.

Time to meet you little boy.

I don't think he's responding to your medicine.

He knew that Theo had spent

a small fortune on him.

The knowledge of this tore into Vincent.

Excuse me.

Theo could've had a house like this

with all the money he'd spent on Vincent over the years.

But, instead what did he have for his new wife and baby'!

Rooms full of paintings that no one wanted to buy.

Vincent's biggest fear was that the burden of him

would bring down his brother.

So Vincent worried a little about money.

It's not like they were starving is it?

Listen I don't reckon he committed suicide.

I reckon he was shot.

Have you been talking to Mazery?

You heard his tale of how the angle of the bullet

was all wrong, that nobody shoots themselves in the stomach?

Well yeah.

What's to stop Vincent from doing something improbable?

I mean cutting a piece of your ear off and making

a present of it to a whore is hardly probable now is it?

But, there was this lad Rene who had a gun,

who bullied Vincent and was seen with him on that day.

I was at Vincent's bedside on that day,

and he said he had shot himself and told me

not to blame anyone.

Not to blame anyone?

Doesn't that sound to you like he was

trying to cover for someone?

He wanted to die I know that.

Why would he say there's no one to blame

unless he thought someone might be blamed?

He said that because there was someone, me.

I think he

took his life to try and save Theo

because of something I'd said.

You see,

I said something to Vincent that as his doctor

I should never have said.

But, he'd made me so angry.

You know nothing about art!

He called me an artistic fraud.

And, you are lying especially to yourself.

In a way I am.

You are an artistic fraud.

I desperately wanted to be an artist,

but my father made me study medicine,

and I failed to stand up to him.

Vincent said I was living a lie

whilst he lived and struggled for the truth.

So I thought in the heat of our argument, okay Vincent

I'll give you your precious truth.

I knew that Theo was in the tertiary stages of syphilis,

any stress financial, emotional or physical

could kill him.

I said to Vincent, "What do you think

the burden of worrying about you

is doing to your brother?"

It's quite likely killing him.

That is the price of your truth, the price

of your path as an artist.

Is it worth it?

That stopped the argument dead.

Vincent?

Vincent!

Vincent come back!

Vincent!

Two weeks later, I am sitting at his bedside,

and he is dying.

The only words he said, "Maybe it is better for everyone."

Here a letter for a letter.

Theo's widow is collecting all his letters.

She wants to publish them.

I'll make sure she gets that.

In reading through Vincent's letters to Theo,

she came across this one.

It moved her so much, she copied it out

and sent it to me.

Why are you giving it to me?

It is from when he was starting out

on his journey as an artist.

Take it for your journey.

Thank you Dr. Gachet.

Armand Roulin, good luck.

Thanks a lot.

No bother sir.

Who am I in the eyes of most people?

A nobody, a non entity, an unpleasant person.

Someone who has not, and never will have

any position in society.

In short, the lowest of the low.

Well then even if that were all absolutely true,

then one day I will have to show by my work

what this nobody, this non entity has in his heart.

I looked for you at the bar.

Any luck on the job front?

Nothing.

Lieutenant Milliet says I should enlist.

What for?

Well I'm good at fighting, aren't I?

Roulin's have always been that.

The trick is to know what you're fighting for.

Would you look at it?

There's a whole other world up there.

Something we get to gaze upon but don't fully understand.

It reminds me of him.

It feels wrong all that life snuffed out

because of a stupid accident.

I'm still wondering why he would cover for those boys.

What I'm wondering is if people

will appreciate what he did.

You were looking for me?

This arrived from Holland this morning.

It's from Jo, Theo's widow.

It turns out Gachel did send the letter.

And, she was terribly touched by what you did.

She thought it only right that you should know

what was in it, so she copied it out for us.

She sends her, she said something about-

- Alright, give it here.

In the life of the painter,

death may perhaps not be the most difficult thing.

For myself, I declare I don't know anything about it.

But, the sight of the stars always makes me dream.

Why I say to myself should those spots of light

in the firmament be inaccessible to us?

Maybe we can take death to go to a star

and to die peacefully of old age would be to go there

on foot.

For the moment, I'm going to go to bed

because it's late, and I wish you goodnight and good luck

with a handshake, your loving Vincent.