All language subtitles for Genius (2017) 2x07 - Picasso_ Chapter Seven

Previously on Genius...

My horse doesn't
look real, Papa.

Not like your pigeons.

I want to paint like you.

Then I will teach you, Pablito.

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

You were meant to be a teacher.

May I introduce Pablo
Picasso and Georges Braque,

the founders of the
Cubist Movement.

Pablo is always with Braque.

Despair, my dear, is a readily
treatable affliction.

What are you doing?

You don't know how
lonely I feel.

I worked hard to get here,
and I am not going to let you

or anyone else
make a mess of it.

The Nazis have labeled every
bit of it as degenerate.

What do you suppose
they do to degenerates?

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

We need you on ours.

I made a vow to God if he let Conchita
live, I would give up painting.

God knew I could never
keep my promise.

So he took her.

I've been thinking that we should
create something together.

Let's make a baby.

sync and corrections by awaqeded
www.addic7ed.com

Can you tell our readers
in your own words

why you joined the
Communist Party?

All my life, I, I've used line and
color to try to penetrate deeper,

to understand the world
and, uh, and man.

Art has been my weapon.

And I have fought in my own way
like a true revolutionary.

But during the horrors
of the Nazi occupation,

I-I felt that that
wasn't enough anymore,

that I had to fight the Fascism
not only with painting

but uh, with my whole being.

It's radical, isn't it?

I thought of your still life, the
one you applied the oil cloth to.

And I thought, what
if I used wallpaper?

The wallpaper, it, it, it is
itself and stands for itself.

You build up the illusion
and call attention to it.

It's, oh it's brilliant.

I proposed to
Marcelle last week.

Congratulations.

You don't approve.

Of course I do.

Marcelle is wonderful.

And yet your dark eyes
flicker with doubt.

You've just created
something completely new.

You work when you
want, how you want.

Don't you worry having a wife and a
family will interfere with that?

Flaubert said, "be regular
and orderly in your life,

so you can be violent and
creative in your work."

I intend to have the most regular,
orderly family imaginable.

I would love to have children.

Well, then you should
get married too.

Fernande is anything but
regular and orderly.

I didn't mean Fernande.

It is time to grow up.

Find yourself a suitable
wife, settle down.

Collage breaks all the rules.

You can use anything you
want on the canvas.

Dirt and sand, wood.

Or paper that looks like wood.

We can bring everyday
objects in, too.

A strip of newspaper,
or wallpaper.

He spent all weekend
shopping for wallpapers.

It is difficult to
find ones that are

ordinary enough to
evoke everyday life.

You cannot just stick anything
on a canvas and call it art.

Why not?

Then the idea of art
becomes meaningless.

I think it sounds exciting.

I'd love to see one of
your collages, Pablo.

Eva, you know I love you,
but you're a terrible art critic.

You have no visual
or spatial sense.

Eva has the best taste
of any woman I know.

Look at this home.

It's beautiful just like she is.

She even sewed the curtains.

Well, you're very talented.

Fernande has never
even sewn a button.

She just throws the shirt
out and buys another one.

What's going on
with you and Pablo?

You seem irritated with him.

All he ever talks about is work.

You don't realize
how lucky you are.

Louis is never excited
about anything.

At least Pablo is passionate.

For his art. Not for me.

I thought you two spend most
of your time together in bed.

Not anymore.

I had a dream I left Louis.

I ran out of the house
but I had nowhere to go.

Can I ask you a favor?

If the topic comes up with
Pablo, will you say that you

and I are going for
dinner together tomorrow?

Why?

Eva.

You said you were
having problems finding

the right wallpaper
for your collages,

so I brought a roll of old
ones I had in the closet.

Oh. Thank you. Come in.

Fernande is out to dinner
with some friends.

I thought you were going.

I, I changed my mind.

They're nothing special.

They're perfect.

This was very kind of you, Eva.

Well, you've always
been very kind to me.

You belong in a Vermeer.

Don't I belong in a Picasso?

I would love to paint
you some time.

Will you have a drink with me?

Wine or something?

Why didn't you go to dinner?

I don't like that
Italian painter Oppi.

I heard he was
going to be there.

I don't really know him.

Why don't you like him?

Pablo, can I ask you something?

You just did.

What if you found out that, that a
friend of yours was lying to his lover?

Would you tell?

Lying about what?

A-About having an affair.

What business is that of mine?

I should go.

Is it this Oppi character?

I'm so sorry, Pablo.

I didn't know if I should tell,
but I found out she was...

Guess who is awake?

How is he this morning?

The same as every day.
He wants you.

Will you watch Claude for me?

- Mm-hmm.
- Mommy...

You don't want to get up.

Oh, Fran�oise. Please.

The more I live, the more I die.

Todo es... nada.

Well, you're not dead yet.

My stomach bother all night.

It's, it's probably a tumor.

Pablo, Dr. Gutman says you
are perfectly healthy.

No, no. D-Dr. Gutman doesn't
care if I live or die

as long as he gets
his first edition!

Even so, the day is waiting.

Well, now I understand why they
execute condemned men at dawn.

You know, the light is
so hideous, just uh,

f-force you to stare
at it is, my, my head

it spins and makes
me dizzy and-and...

You'll feel better once
you start working.

Hmm. Well maybe you are...
maybe you are right.

What would I do without you?

Besides you have to get up, an
old friend is coming to visit.

"First World Congress
of Intellectuals

for Peace." I'm not
an intellectual.

Of course you are.

And your presence would send
a message to the world.

I am not a French citizen.

I-I can't get a passport.

The Poles will grant you a visa.

I'll issue a statement.

I stand for life a,
against, uh, death.

And I stand for peace
against, uh, war.

Something like that.

It's not enough.

I give interviews.
I pose for photos.

I live humbly since
I joined the party.

Pablo, it's not simply a Que...

I can't go to Warsaw.

I have too much work to do.

Besides, I, I, I
couldn't leave Fran�oise

alone with the baby,
not in her condition.

No.

When you joined the party,
you said your art was a weapon.

Hmm?

That you were a
true revolutionary.

And now you're staying
here to what?

Be a nursemaid? Huh?

That is how you are
going to fight Fascism?

Don't talk to me about Fascism.

When the Nazis came to Paris and
everyone else ran away, I stayed.

And that was brave, Pablo.

But the world is different now.

The Fascists don't have to be on
your doorstep to threaten you.

A single bomb can
destroy an entire city.

The next war could
annihilate us all.

If you care about your family, their
future, you'll come to the conference.

People idolize you.

Inspire them to take on
the cause of world peace.

It's dangerous to ignore this.

Will it affect the baby?

We can usually bring the
pressure down with medication.

Be direct for God's sake.

This can be very dangerous
for Fran�oise and the baby.

I want you to be seen three
times a week at the hospital.

No, no, no, no. No hospital. No.

You come to us. I'll pay for it.

She needs to be
monitored properly.

That cannot be done here.

I thought you weren't going.

Paul convinced me that I am not
doing enough for the Party.

Maybe I'll actually get some

painting done without
you here to bother me.

Don't, don't worry, Th,
the doctor will look after you.

And so will Claude.

Yeah, you will look
after Mommy, won't you?

How long will you be gone?

Just, uh, one week. Nothing.

This week has been perfect.

We can keep the house for the
rest of the summer if you want.

Pablo!

You shouldn't have come here.

Is she here?

You know that she is.

Pablo, why are you doing this?

Why did you go to bed with Oppi?

I was just so lonely.

You are always busy
with your work.

And it was like you couldn't see
me, even when I was right there.

But it was a mistake.

And you don't think mistakes
come with any consequences?

So this is what? Revenge?

Maybe it was.

I know, I understand.

You're right, Pablo. I
deserved it. Now come home.

Come home, we can go back
to the way things were.

No, we can't, we can't.

We can.

I love her, Fernande.

But she's so conventional.

No, everything with her is easy.

With you, everything is hard.

Pablo, I can change.

No, she's not bitter.
Or spiteful.

She wants to take care of me.

I can take care of you.

No, you can't.

But you should try to
take care of yourself.

You would make me think there's
something wrong with me.

But maybe it's you.

You broke every promise you ever made
me and you'll do the same to her.

You couldn't even keep
your vow to God when

your sister was dying
because your art is

always more important.

I don't want to fight with you.
Not anymore.

I never thought I would be
able to love anyone, Pablo.

But I loved you.

I hope she makes you happy.

Requiem aeternam dona ei et
Lux perpetua luceat ei...

Your father would
want you to have it.

All these years, I should
have come to visit.

No,

don't torment yourself.

You were the pride of his life.

And in return I was
ashamed of him.

Pablo. Your father knew that

everything you did,
you did for your art.

Does this new girl
understand that?

Yes, she does.

Then don't wait, Pablo.
Marry her, start a family.

What could bring you
more happiness?

6,000 francs is bid,
thank you, sir.

Can I hear 6,500?
I have 6,500 francs.

Can I hear 7,000?
I have 7,000 francs.

Thank you, sir.
Can I hear 7,500?

Congratulations, you just sold

the most expensive
painting in history.

Jesus, how much?

12,650 francs.

That is twice what anyone has
ever paid for a Matisse.

"Amazing prices were paid for the
works of undesirable foreigners."

I think that the journalist was talking
about Pablo, the dirty Spaniard!

"And it was the Germans
who pushed up the

prices." He's referring
to you, Kahnweiler,

and all the other dirty Krauts
who are ruining France!

Forget that rag,
Max. They love Pablo in America!

Oh, yay! I will drink to that!

Oh, you will drink to anything.

Gertrude!

Your girlfriend already
has me figured out.

No, darling Max, the nationalists
are nothing to joke about.

They're trying to stir
up a war with Germany.

There's not going to
be a war, Gertrude.

I did not invite you all
here to talk about politics.

Yes, we are here to celebrate
the sale of the Harlequins.

How Harlequin magically grows...

Oh! Ah, oh!

I am a mess. Not like you.

You tied it all up in a pretty
little bow, didn't you? Hmm?

You got rid of Fernande, you stole
Pablo and now he's filthy rich.

What did you say?

Oh, a poem!

A poem for the unmarried
lady of the fancy new

house, "The Gold Digger
of Montparnasse."

You are a disgrace.

He's drunk, Pablo.
He does not mean it.

Oh, no, I didn't,
I did not mean to

offend all of you
undesirable foreigners.

Get out! Get out.

I should have thrashed him.

He had too much to drink and
Fernande is his friend.

I understand why he's upset.

You're too good, Eva.

Hmm.

He insulted you.

He wasn't entirely wrong.

I am the "unmarried lady
of the house," after all.

I could change that.

No, I wasn't trying...

No, I love you, ma Jolie,

more than I have ever
loved anyone in my life.

I want to, to write your
name in all my works.

I want to have a
family with you.

I'll be back in a
moment, darling.

Drive to Nice tonight, Pablo.

Apollinaire will still be there.

You can enlist together.

If I go to Nice,
it will be to stop him.

I wish I could stop you.

What do you want?

German occupation
and domination?

We are artists, not soldiers.

Painting won't save France from
the German military machine.

I'm not even French,
Georges, I'm Spanish.

And what has France
done for you?

Given you a home where
you're free to paint

whatever you want,
love whoever you want.

France has made you a rich man.

So to show my
gratitude, I should

run across a field and
bury my bayonet in

another man's belly?

If that is what it takes, yes.

You are blinded by
nationalism, Georges.

This war is not for France,
it is-it is not for freedom.

Coward.

It is for imperialists
and bankers!

I just need one more
signature, Monsieur Picasso.

100,000 francs?

Why are you withdrawing
so much money?

So if this horrible
war causes the

bank to fail, I can take
care of you and the

beautiful babies we
are going to have.

Are you feeling all right?

It's just a tickle.

I want to make Mademoiselle Gilot
a signatory on my accounts.

I'll just prepare the documents.

Is this really necessary?

How else would you be able
to get the money if the

plane crashes on
the way to Poland?

If you're so afraid of
flying, Pablo, don't go.

Claude doesn't want anyone
else but you tucking him in.

Look, this is
serious, Fran�oise.

I have never trusted anyone
else to handle my money before.

And all these years
I thought you

were in love with me
because I'm an artist.

But it turns out what you
needed was a bookkeeper.

And a maid and a secretary.

Oh, Fran�oise.

Perhaps His Lordship would at
least allow me to hire a nanny?

You know how that would
look to the Party.

You know, a nanny is a, is
um, a bourgeois indulgence.

It's, it's...

Of course. Comrade Picasso.

Do you think the
pilot knows what

to do in case that there
is some problems?

The plane is not going
to crash, Pablo.

How can this monstrous bird
possibly stay in the air?

Hundreds of planes fly every
day all over the world.

Why do you think the only one you've
ever been on is going to crash?

Just take a deep breath and
look out the window, Pablo.

It's beautiful.

It's all squares and rectangles.

A Cubist painting. I got
it right. I got it right.

Pablo. I had a vision.

Jesus appeared to me.

Were you smoking opium?

No. No, it was real.
It was a message.

I must atone for my sins, all of them,
for being a-a deviant, a mean drunk,

I treated Eva so terribly.

Yes. You owe her an apology.

Of course. Yes.

But, apologies are not enough.

I need to do something
more with my life.

The army wouldn't take me,
so I, I cannot fight.

And, um, well, I will
never have a family.

Max. You'll always
be family to me.

Do you mean that? Truly?

Because I need you to
help me do something.

Ego Te baptizo in
Nomine Patris et Filii

et Spiritus Sancti.

So now I'm Max's Godfather.

Before I am even a real father, I
have a son who is 38 years old!

And a Jewish son to boot!

Well, he's not Jewish anymore.

And what about the two of you?

When are you going to get married
and have some actual children?

I want to wait until this
wretched war is over.

And I keep telling her war is
the best time to make babies.

An antidote to death.

The soup is delicious.

The lights, quickly.

Under the table.

To Picasso!

Picasso!

Na zdrowie! Na zdrowie.

Please.

It is an honor to be here.

They say Americans
will stop buying

your works now that
you're a Communist.

We will see.

It's a small price
to pay, I suppose,

for the richest
painter in the world.

Do you know my work?

Yes.

And I wonder, why do
you continue to paint

in bourgeois
impressionist-surrealist style?

Please. Be respectful.

Impressionist-surrealist?

If you are going to denigrate me,
at least use the correct terms,

and insult me for Cubism.

Where do your paintings
hang, Comrade Picasso?

In rich people's homes.

Who else can afford them?

You are not the
first to tell me my

work does not conform
to someone else's idea

of what it should be.

And why don't you paint in

simpler, more clearly
understood symbolism?

If I were a shoemaker, would I have
to hammer my shoes a special way

just to show my politics?

Your work is not Communist.

I am a Communist.

If I make a painting,
it's a Communist painting.

Men ennoble themselves by
working for the common good,

not to enrich themselves.

Your painting is
decadent, Comrade.

The Nazis called
it "degenerate."

You are exactly the same.

So now I am not
Communist enough? Hmm!

Did you listen to those bastards who
condemn me for joining the Party?

Who cares what he thinks?

Marcel, we are going
back to Paris.

- Please, Comrade
Picasso, don't...

Forget Lvovich,
he's small-minded

and doesn't understand
what we're trying to do.

Pablo, you remember
Pierre Daix, the writer.

Please, if you'll
permit me, I'd like

to show you what we
are fighting against.

Arbeit Macht Frei.
Work makes you free.

A great lie, of course.

There was no freedom.

Not for political
prisoners like me.

Not for homosexuals.

And certainly not for the Jews.

Those who didn't die on the journey
were separated as soon as they arrived.

Babies ripped from mothers'
arms, the strong sent to work.

The weak to the showers.

Another lie, of course.

No water poured from
these pipes, only

poison gas snaking
down from the ceiling.

Naked people, shivering, humiliated,
crammed shoulder to shoulder,

women, men, tiny
children, their screams

ending only when the vapor
stole their voices,

choking the life out of them.

This miserable war.
Will it ever end?

If you hate the war so much, why
don't you stop belly-aching

and actually do
something about it?

What can I do?

Gertrude and I are driving
supplies to local hospitals.

That's wonderful.

It's not enough to declare
yourself a pacifist, Pablo.

You have a very loud voice and
an obligation to make it heard.

I am not a politician.

No, but you are one of the
most famous artists in Europe.

Use your art to speak
out against the war.

Art should not be political.

Well that's a very principled position
and a convenient one, isn't it?

You get to do nothing and still feel
morally superior to everyone else.

You say your art is a weapon.

So use it to speak out
against these atrocities.

Comrade Eluard is right.

The Nazis may be gone, but Franco
still rules your beloved Spain.

Fascism is not dead.

And our Party is dedicated
to fighting it.

To make sure that this
never happens again.

Paint a peace symbol, Pablo.

For the Party
conference in Paris.

Oh-oh! It's from Papa.

I'm sorry it wasn't
a more pleasant

evening, we'll have
more fun next time.

Nonsense, there's
no one we'd rather

hide under a table
with than the two...

Eva? What's wrong? What's wrong?

You have lung cancer. I'm sorry.

How do we treat it?

We will do everything we can
to make you comfortable.

Papa's home! Oh. Hey.

Aren't you glad to see me?

You said you'd be gone one
week, it's been three.

Didn't you get my telegrams?

You mean the ones addressed
to "Madame Picasso"?

You couldn't be bothered
to send them, so you what?

Had Marcel write them?

How dare you abandon me.

You are exaggerating, Fran�oise.

Then you didn't just leave me alone,
sick and pregnant to care for

a baby for almost a month?

I was doing something important.

Something much bigger than
taking care of one baby.

So now it's not only your art
that comes before your family,

it's politics as well.

I was in a country ravaged
by bombs, misery and death.

Talking with leaders of the
world about how to stop war.

You're right.
My concerns are trivial.

Accounts, baths,
doctor's visits,

laundry, vomit.

How difficult has it
really been for you?

Were you starving?

Were you beaten and-and
worked to death?

Was Claude ripped from
your arms by Nazis?

So unless I'm a victim of Nazi

war crimes, my
concerns don't matter?

You were the one who
wanted children, Pablo.

And I agreed.

But I didn't agree to give up my work
so I could cater to all your needs.

I'm sorry, my love.

You can't imagine what I saw.

We can't live with blinders on,
fixated on our little family,

shut off from the struggles
of the rest of the world.

We, we have to do
more for others.

That is a very noble
sentiment, Pablo.

But is it really why you went?

What do you mean?

I mean maybe you're just bored.

Maybe you want to get away from
us, maybe you don't like me

turning into a giant bump again.

You have never been
so beautiful to me.

But you are right.

I did want to get away.

When Lamaze said you
were sick, that you

have to go and see
doctors in the hospital,

I, I had an urge to run.

And it's terrible, I know.

But suddenly I thought, maybe
it was happening again.

What was happening again?

I'm so tired.

I know, my love. But
don't be discouraged.

You're going to be home soon.

Pablo, I won't be coming home.

Of course you will.

We're going to get
married and have babies.

Pablo.

You will get married and
you will have a family.

But not with me.

You're not thinking
clearly. It's the morphine.

You're going to get well soon.

And I'm coming every day to
sit with you until you do.

It's a long train ride
to make so often, Pablo.

I don't mind. Because at the
end of it there is you.

You're very sweet.
But now I need to rest.

You should go home.

Monsieur Picasso.
I, I'm Jean Cocteau.

I'm a great admirer of yours.

Um, I'm about to leave for the front, I
was hoping you would paint my portrait,

it's for my mother.

The woman I love is dying.

You think I want to paint
your goddamn portrait?

I'm sorry, I'm...

We need a stretcher.
This one's alive.

My fianc�'s at the front.

Why aren't you?

I don't believe in war.

What about you?

You must have someone else, too.

How do I look?

Like I could paint you
for the rest of my life.

Here. Lace me up.

Marry me. Gaby.

I have a fianc�.

And you just lost
the woman you love.

I want to give you everything.

Paintings, children.

I know you're in pain, but
this isn't the answer.

I'm sorry, Pablo. I can't.

The doctors want to drill into my
skull to relieve the pressure.

But they don't know if it
will give me my sight back.

I'm sure it will.

Marcelle says the same.

She's so innocent.

She still wants a family.

You'll have beautiful children.

Every night I dream about
leaving the trench.

As soon as I'm over the top,
my fear turns to terror.

My nose fills with Sulphur.

I taste metal on the
roof of my mouth.

She'll never understand
and neither will you.

No, I, I don't suppose I could.

You stayed at home painting and now
I may never be able to paint again.

Braque is right.

I hid in my studio while
the rest of you suffered.

I am so sorry, Guillaume.

You were right not to go, Pablo.

Artists should
create, not destroy.

But what have I created?

Not even a child.

Only pretty pictures
for Eva and Gaby.

I should have at least tried to
create something to tell the world

how I feel about
this wretched war.

We heard you donated a million
francs to the striking miners!

What a magnanimous gesture.

You're becoming quite the
philanthropist, Pablo.

And now, you're doing the art for
the Paris peace conference as well.

What will you paint?

I don't know yet.

Marie's trying to
get me to attend.

You should go. Paul Robeson
is coming from America.

Hmm.

Do you know him?

The singer?

His father was a runaway slave.

He and Pablo have
been corresponding.

Marie and I were thinking, with all
the causes you have been taking up,

perhaps you would donate a few painting
to our little Museum in Antibes.

Oh, your museum is a cause now?

Art is its own cause, is it not?

You cater to rich tourists.

Well, I suppose, but, a gift
from you would really help us.

Perhaps I can help
you in return.

We heard you got
trouble traveling to

Poland because you
don't have a passport.

I still have friends in the Conseil
des Ministres who could secure

French citizenship for you.

First you demand a gift then you
want me to change my nationality?

I'm Spanish.
I represent Spain in exile.

Pablo, I do not mean...

And as long as a Fascist
dictator rules over my people,

I will stand in
solidarity with them.

Fran�oise, people are staring.

And what gives you the right
to ask for my paintings?

Do you think I paint
them for you?

What do you think an artist is?

An idiot who paints to
decorate the walls of museums?

And why have you stopped eating?

Food here isn't good
enough for you?

Fran�oise!

Don't look at me.
I agree with him.

Thank you for taking my side.

We are allies, Pablo.

In Warsaw, a Soviet donkey
told me I should make art with

a more easily
understood symbolism.

I'm sure you appreciated
his suggestion.

Even if I agree with it,
I wouldn't know how.

I mean, I, sense,
I see, I paint.

The next day even I, I, I don't
know how I have done it.

I need a universal symbol, but I
can't find it except instinctively

and, and unconsciously.

If you want something instinctive,
go back to the beginning.

My beginning was
picadors and pigeons.

Hmm. Then start there.

My horse doesn't
look real, Papa.

I want to paint like you.

I will teach you, Pablito.

My horse doesn't look
like your pigeon...

You have taught me
all I need to know.

A pigeon?

A dove. Paloma in Spanish.

My father bred them.

Honestly, I was expecting
a worker holding a hammer

or someone laying
down his sword.

Too literal.

But the Bible does tell
beautiful stories.

Like the Paloma bringing an olive
branch to Noah after the flood.

Yes. To symbolize that God
had made peace with mankind.

It's beautiful, Pablo.

Hmm. And it's also hideous.

One day, my father brought
home a baby bird.

And I saw a pair of
doves peck it to death.

Now how is that for
a symbol of peace?

I don't understand you.

Art is the lie that
tells the truth.

Don't try to understand.
You have to feel.

And I hope this dove
makes people feel.

The truth.

That we are capable of the
most horrible violence.

Which is why we must fight
so hard against it.

It feels as though the
baby is fighting me.

It wants to stay,
but I want it out.

I agree. It's time to induce
labor. I'll call Pablo.

No. The last place he wants
to be is a hospital.

It would upset him.

Fran�oise, this is
his child, too.

But he's at the
Peace Conference.

It's important.

More important than his family?

Push, push, push. Yes.

Ready? Now, push.

Hey. Are you all right?

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh!

Look at her.

She's a work of art.

And we made her. Together.

Paloma. We will call her Paloma.

Paloma.

Yes.

Now that's a lovely name.

That way we can be sure.

Sure of what?

That we will always have
peace in our family.

Paloma. Oh!

sync and corrections by awaqeded
www.addic7ed.com