All language subtitles for genius.2017.s02e08.internal.720p.web.x264-noivtc

Previously, on Genius...

You are a genius, Maya.

Come here.

You have children,
women you love.

Some things are more
important than art.

Not to me.

Pablo?

You must be Marie-Thérèse.

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

Perhaps you should pay a visit
to his wife and inform her of

this... expectation.

Pablo Picasso, meet
Henri Matisse.

40 years on, and the great Henri

Matisse is still
trying to outdo me.

As artists, we must demand
nothing less than the perpetual,

immoral subversion of
the existing order.

I hope she makes you happy.

You will get married, and you will
have a family but not with me.

I'm about to leave
for The Front.

I was hoping you would
paint my portrait?

The woman I love is dying.

You think I want to paint
your goddamn portrait?

Maybe I should be a soldier.

Well, then you will be general,

and if you're a priest,
you will be pope.

I had a vision.

Jesus appeared to me.

I want you to stay
away from Picasso.

Stop!

I have missed you, terribly.

I only want you, Françoise.

Let's make a baby.

You were the one who
wanted children, Pablo,

but I didn't agree to give up my work,

so I could cater to all your needs.

sync and corrections by awaqeded
www.addic7ed.com

Monsieur Picasso,
uh... Jean Cocteau.

I once asked you to paint my portrait,
but it was a terrible time for you.

Uh, listen, I know how fond you are of
painting harlequins, so I thought...

well, um...

Cocteau has asked me
to design a ballet.

Sets, costumes, all of it.

Do you know much
about the ballet?

No, but that is exactly
why I'm drawn to it.

A chance to work in a new medium,
Rosi and I won't be doing it alone.

Cocteau will be writing the scenario.

He's brilliant. Satie is composing.

Diaghilev's company will be dancing...

You don't enjoy sharing
the footlights, Pablo.

I worked with Braque
for years, didn't I?

His eyesight has returned.

Make peace with him.

Make some art with him.

Braque wants nothing
to do with me,

and even if he did, I'm
bored with Cubism.

It's too easy for me.

There's no satisfaction
in it any more.

So instead you want to sew
tutus and paint backdrops?

It's much more than that, Rosi.

Imagine...

instead of depicting multiple
perspectives on a flat surface,

I can make a painting that
actually moves, breathes,

keeps turning into another painting.

Clever, but for a painting to

sell, it only needs
one discerning buyer.

For a ballet to be a success, it
must be admired by the masses.

They may not understand
what you're trying to do.

They never do, not at first.

This war is going to
be over soon, Pablo.

The people are going
to start buying again.

And if you spent the next few
months creating some inventory,

we could make real money.

"Inventory?"

I do not work in a factory...

Of course not.
It's a figure of speech...

And I do not need money.

I need a new challenge.

And one, two, three, four, five,
six, seven, eight and one...

I'm still struggling
with shape and movement,

but once I spend more
time with the music,

experimenting with materials,
watching rehearsals.

Um, it goes like this.

Ah, it looks like
a man wearing...

a building.

Exactly.

Picasso wants to tear down the walls
between, uh, set and costume,

between onstage and backstage.

And one, two, three, four,
five, six, seven, eight.

Between reason and insanity?

Well, it will certainly
shake the establishment...

Ah, Olga Khokhlova.

Your eye's as good as your reputation
would suggest, Monsieur Picasso.

She's so elegant.

Yes, I have high hopes for her.

Well, I look forward to seeing
what you dream up next.

One, two threee four,
five, six, seven and eight.

One, two, three...

Pablo, don't waste your time.

Why not?

Russian aristocracy.

She must be looking for
a duke or a viscount,

not a controversial
Spanish painter, hmm?

And one, two, three, four,
five, six, seven, eight...

You have much better lines
than the lead dancer.

Do not let her
hear you say that.

Why not? It's the truth.

Stagehands who critique dancers may
find themselves painting scenery

at the burlesque in Naples.

I like the burlesque.

Well, I am sure you must return
to work on this abstract fiasco.

You don't like the designs?

No, not at all.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

Oh, Mademoiselle Khokhlova,
I see you've met our designer,

the great Pablo Picasso.

It seems Monsieur Picasso was
too modest to mention that.

Ah, I can assure you there is
nothing modest about Pablo Picasso.

Pablo, come with me.

I need you to help me
persuade Satie that

a typewriter and a
pistol must be added

to the percussion section.

Satie will have to wait.

I promised to escort Mademoiselle
Khokhlova back to her hotel.

I had to be measured
for my costume today.

Apparently you intend to
dress me in cardboard.

Have you not had
enough of pink tutus?

I prefer classical
art to little boxes.

Ah, so you do know cubism.

Yes, and I know the cancan as
well, but I dance in the ballet.

I want to paint you.

I suppose Parisian women find
that offer irresistible.

Usually.

Thank you for the
escort, and good night.

You are not going to make
this easy for me, are you?

No, Monsieur Picasso, I'm not.

I thought you had
forgotten me entirely.

Oh, nonsense.

I would never miss one of our lunches.

Please, yes.

Yes, I suppose I
should be grateful.

You do give me your undivided
attention, once a week, for an hour.

Ugh, Olga, please,
let's just enjoy...

Huh?

I saw you in that
horrid Life Magazine...

with her.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, uh...

I can't help it if the press insists on
publishing all these stories in the...

First that stupid girl, then
that insane photographer, and now...

you leave me to rot in a dingy hotel.

It's the best hotel in Paris.

While you cavort for all the world
to see with your latest mistress and

her two urchins.

You mean my children.

What about our son?

When was the last time you saw him?

I see Paulo when I can.

He's a grown man who doesn't
want to be around...

Yes, with a wife and
a child of his own.

We are your family too, Pablo.

Of course you are, of course.

Olga, please, don't cry okay?

Please, please, don't cry.

Don't cry, please.

You are still my wife.

The only Madame Picasso, nothing,
nothing will ever change that.

But we'll never go back to the
way things were, will we?

Whore!

Claude, come. Let's go home.

Stay away from him!

Do you hear me?

He's my husband, not yours!

Pablo.

Olga followed me again,
screaming at me.

It terrified the children.

I'm-I'm-I'm sorry.

You know that she is not well.

I don't understand why you
let these women hang on.

Well, they are part of my life.

I can't just cut them out.

So instead you run back
and forth between them...

give each one of them just enough so
she feels she's the most important.

I try to keep them separate,
make things easy.

You know? To avoid confusion.

Do you understand?

There is nothing easy
about this, Pablo.

Nothing.

And Olga, for one, seems
to be very confused

about it, and I can't
take it anymore...

not with two little ones.

We'll go away from the city.

We'll go to the beach, away from Olga.

How many of the other dancers in
the company have sat for you?

You want the truth?

Certainly.

No one actually sits
for me anymore.

Because you only
do abstractions.

Because I work from memory.

The moment I saw the curve of your
neck, the color of your cheek,

your face was etched in my mind.

Hmm, then why am I frozen
here with a stiff back?

Would you have agreed to spend
time with me otherwise?

It seems you can do more
than little cubes after all.

Um, I'm afraid you've mistaken
my compliment for an invitation.

If you want me to go, say so.

Oh no, Monsieur,
I cannot let you in.

Why not?

We are not married.

You are not his wife!

You followed us here?

This was our beach.

Oh, no.

Did you think I wouldn't find out,
as if I have no friends here?

I am the only Madame Picasso!

Hey, Olga!

Olga, what are you doing here?

I have more right than she does!

Come on, come, come.

Hey, hey!

Françoise, where are you
going, where are you going?

Claude, Claude, Claude!

Please, Olga, please go.

Go, please, please.

Yeah?

Go.

Yeah.

They are soldiers.

They wanted cleavage and bare legs,
and we are giving them men in boxes.

My brothers!

Respect for our art is
respect for our country.

My brothers, please.

I have never been so humiliated.

Did you hear them?

Art is meant to provoke.

It means we made them feel something.

Yes, loathing.

When I painted "Les Demoiselles"
10 years ago, everyone hated it.

Now everyone copies my style.

My body isn't a canvas.

It won't last 10 years.

And now I have let you turn me
into a puppet to display your art.

I understand why she
is embarrassed,

but one day she will
realize that she

was part of a new movement.

Yes, what did you, uh,
call it, Guillaume?

Surrealism.

Surrealism. Ha!
What a wonderful word.

Thank you for
quieting the crowd.

The least I could do.

Don't worry about Olga.

We will cheer her up.

We are organizing a party.

Diaghilev is hosting a dinner for
the company, with the Marchesa.

Olga feels it's important we attend.

Well, of course.

Of course.

Hey, you mustn't
disappoint the Marchesa.

Dinner next week, then.

We can't wait to meet the woman
who has stolen your heart.

Olga's eager to meet you too, but
the company leaves for Madrid on Monday.

Well, the three of us then.

At the Lapin Agile,
like old times. Huh?

I'm going with her.

Well, she certainly has
you under her spell.

She's like no woman
I have ever met.

She's refined and elegant.

Challenging.

Pure.

She's saved herself for marriage.

Can you imagine?

So then you're going to, uh?

If she'll have me, yes.

I want her to be the
mother of my children.

Damn, Paulo.
What were you thinking? Huh?

There was whiskey, Papa.

Someone brought a few women to the
room, and the next thing I knew,

the police were at the door.

You are 28 years
old, for God's sake.

How could you be drunk in public
with a wife and son at home?

You of all people are going to

lecture me about being
a faithful husband?

I should have let
you rot in jail.

You know what, Papa?

I'll make it easy for you.

Just forget about me...

Maman, too.

Oh wait, you already have.

He needs you.

What more can I do?

I already pay for his life.

Your money may take care of him,
but he doesn't feel cared for.

I want Claude and Paloma to
know the rest of their family.

Yeah, of course.

Let's have a big party,
invite them all...

Olga too, everybody.

No, Olga, no, but, uh...

Marie-Thérèse and Maya should come.

You can't be serious.

Maya doesn't know anything
about you or the children.

Would you rather she learned
the truth from some magazine?

Sit up straight, Maya.

Sorry, Maman.

It's okay.

It's nonsense.

Maya, would you like
to hold your sister?

Half-sister and I am not...

What a wonderful idea!

My two beauties, together.

Paloma, this is Maya.

She's so tiny!

She's not nearly as big as
Pablito, right Emilienne?

No, and Pablito is
three weeks younger.

So Pablito is my nephew?

Yes, he's uh...

He's your brother Paulo's son.

And Claude is my brother, too?

Half-brother.

Yes, from your
father's new family.

The one that took your
place after you took mine.

Give the baby back now, Maya.

This is my favorite paso doble.

Ven aqui, ven aqui.

Your Maya is lovely.

You've done a superb job raising her.

And your babies are lovely.

But you'll never
replace me, Françoise.

I'm not trying to,
Marie-Thérèse.

This is for the children.

I loved having you here.

What's wrong?

I thought you enjoyed yourself.

You played with the babies, we danced.

I had fun, Papa.

It's just...

I always thought you
left us for your work,

not because you lived
with another family.

Why must you make things
so difficult, Pablo huh?

These are supposed to
be our easy years.

Tell that to Françoise.

My life was orderly,
exactly as I wanted it.

She has turned it into chaos.

You should enjoy your
children and grandchildren.

Embrace the chaos.

How am I supposed to work
with all these distractions?

You might not do a
retrospective, huh?

Eh, the curators
have been circling

like vultures, as if
I'm already dead,

but there's so much more
still to do, Henri.

This, uh...

This American fellow, Jackson Pollock.

He has set the art world on fire.

Paint splattered on canvas.

Abstraction for the
sake of abstraction.

I can't say I understand it either,
but nobody understood my colors

at first, or Cubism, or collage.

Maybe this Pollock sees
something we don't, or can't.

Hmm.

Well, we are still
the revolution.

He's just following it.

Yes, but that is what Monet and Degas
probably thought about us, no?

Nothing can take away from
what we have achieved, Pablo.

Nothing,

but we should be, uh,
embracing the new guard,

not competing with them.

That may work for
you but not for me.

I am not dead yet.

Not now, Pablo.

The children are coming for lunch.

Make yourself useful.

The chicken is almost done.

Chicken?

I want to make love and and
you send me for chicken?

The world does not always
operate on your schedule.

Hmm.

Just tell me the truth, Françoise.

You keep coming up with reasons to have
people around so you don't have to spend

time alone with me.

You have lost interest
in me, because I'm old.

I'm trying to make things
better for everyone.

But how, how is it better?

Do you think Paulo wants to watch
me playing cowboys with Claude when

he remembers I sent him
off to boarding school?

Do you think Maya wants to
watch me cuddling Paloma.

Maya loves Paloma...

I'm going to Paris.

You can't go to Paris.

Oh, yes, I can.

It's too difficult to work
with all these distractions.

What am I supposed
to tell everyone?

Emilienne says Paulo is drinking less.

He's desperate to please you.

He's trying to find a job.

Hire him to help you catalogue
my work, for my retrospective.

I thought you'd
decided not to...

Yeah.

You know, Matisse has convinced me that,
uh, it would be a good idea to remind

the critics that my work is still
the most important in the world.

Nobody needs to be reminded how

brilliant you are,
Pablo, believe me.

Now, please, at least
stay for lunch...

No. You, you made this
mess, you deal with it!

There. Adios.

Diaghilev is bringing his
Russian ballet to Madrid,

but they are not performing Parade.

It caused quite a
scandal in Paris.

Perhaps, but Pablo Picasso
is a son of Spain.

His own people deserve
to see his work.

Summon the Minister of the Arts.

Yes, your majesty.

It's a ballet, Victoria.

How offensive can it be?

Every director dreams of a
command performance for a king.

If he hates it,
I will be a called

fool and a fraud
in my own country.

Well, let's hope the
king likes horses.

Pi-ca-sso!

Pi-ca-sso!

Pi-ca-sso...

Engaged! Oh, how wonderful!

Oh, and such a beauty.

Thank you, Madame Picasso.

Madame Picasso?

Nonsense, I am Mama.

You should rest your ankle.

Olga irritated an old injury.

Oh well, you won't have
to worry about that now.

Of course carrying babies can
put on a strain on your ankles.

To think that this time next
year, I could be a grandmother.

By this time next year, I hope to
be the principal dancer in the company.

Does Olga even want children?

Of course, but she's not
ready to give up dancing.

And why should you have to wait?

Because I love her.

Well, when you marry,
there are sacrifices, yes.

But you should not be
the one to make them.

You deserve a wife that
will always put you first.

Will Olga do that?

To Monsieur and Madame Picasso.

Santé.

Santé. Santé.

My, uh, profound condolences to the
women of Paris who will no doubt shed

many a tear now that their club has
lost its most prominent member.

Well, it has been a long day.

Oh, and a strange one.

What could be more shocking than our
Pablo settling down with one woman, hmm?

I mean, however beautiful she may be?

Max made it sound as if you have
made love to every woman in Paris.

Max was drunk,
trying to get a laugh.

Don't pay him any mind.

I want to know.

How many have there been?

How many others, dozens, more?

I saved myself for you.

Yes,

and I have waited my
whole life for you.

I chose you.

I gave you my name.

You are the only Madame Picasso.

Is Monsieur Picasso at home?

Who shall I say is calling?

Genevieve Laporte.

I don't remember her.

Apparently she once interviewed
you for her school paper,

and you invited her to come see you
the next time she was in Paris.

Mmm, so she's a student?

Not anymore.

She's captivating.

Do you know when he painted it?

He didn't.

I did, years ago.

I had no idea you
were so talented.

Kahnweiler's been asking
me for new work to show,

and I just don't have
the time anymore.

Who is she?

My grandmother.

She's not been well, actually.

I should go see her.

Why don't you?

I'd be happy to finish here on my own.

Paulo, I appreciate that, but...

It's the least I can do.

You didn't owe any of us
kindness, but here we are.

I'm afraid my meddling
drove your father away.

It has nothing to do with you.

He just does what he wants, always.

So do what you want.

Go see your grandmother.

What if he comes home
and I'm not here?

I've not seen him in weeks.

I'm a bit worried about him, actually.

He loves you, Françoise.

I know he does, but do you think
he's in Paris worrying about you?

Should you answer that?

Whatever it is, it can wait.

And how long do you plan
to keep me waiting?

I beg your pardon?

Oh, God.

I thought when you told
me to come back, I

thought you meant when
I was old enough to...

I'm so sorry and so naive.

Apparently I am the
one who is naive.

You're so young and so beautiful.

It didn't occur to me that you
were interested in an old man.

You don't seem old to me.

Rosi, say hello to Coco Chanel.

Coco, this is Paul Rosenberg,
my dealer.

A pleasure, Mademoiselle.

My wife is a great
admirer of your designs.

Well, Monsieur Rosenberg,

it seems your wife is
not cheap, is she?

Indeed.

Which reminds me, Pablo...

Ever since Margot saw Olga's
portrait, she will not relent.

She is insisting I commission
you to paint her as well.

Yes, in the classical style,
just as you painted Olga.

Rosi, you know very well I
don't take commissions.

I'll give you 35,000.

I don't need the money.

Are you quite certain?

Your wife has just asked me
to design a gown for her.

40,000, then huh?

I won't do it.

50,000, but that is as
high as I will go, hmm?

Sold for 50,000 francs!

I'm afraid Monsieur
Picasso isn't at home.

May I give him a message?

Uh, yes, yes, please, uh, tell him,
uh, that Max Jacob came to engage him

in a bout of debauchery.

Could you just give him this, please?

Monsieur Jacob.

We have not seen you
in quite some time.

The truth is that
I am persona non

grata in the-the finer
parts of Paris.

Well, you are welcome here.

Thank you, but I am afraid that,
uh, I have a previous engagement.

You opened my mail?

Who is Fernande?

Somebody I used to know.

She writes as if you
had a life with her.

It was long time ago, Olga.

She's asking for money.
Do you give her money?

- No.
- Our money? -No!

How long were you together?

Nine or ten years.

And it never occurred
to you to mention her?

Because I don't concern
myself with her anymore!

Then why would Max
bring you this?

He is a bleeding heart trying
to help an old friend.

Well, you are a married man.

With a reputation to protect.

It's time to choose between your
"old friends" and your new wife.

Pablo!

Oh, come in.

For Fernande.

Oh, I, thank you, I...

This will help, for she is in a
chasm of despair, I'm afraid.

Olga says you came
to our house, drunk.

You say you found God,
became a Catholic,

but you behave as if you
have no morals at all.

Oh, Pablo. I, I am weak.

I admit it, but at least I
have not abandoned my friends.

I haven't abandoned anyone.

Oh, when was the last time
you came to see me, hmm?

Have you even once invited me
to your fancy new apartment?

And when was the last time that
you talked to Apollinaire?

Did you even know that he was sick?

No, no, I'll look in on him.

Oh, well, maybe you shouldn't.

I wouldn't want you to scuff your
expensive shoes on the dirty

cobblestones of Montmartre.

I'm not going to apologize
for my success, Max.

Or for the fact that I don't
live like this anymore.

No, no, no, no,
you spend your days

with the Marchesa and
your snob of a wife,

pretending that you are an aristocrat.

Oh, Olga has cleaned you up so
well, I hardly recognize you.

You're 40 years old,
for God's sake.

It's time to grow up.

Until you do, maybe it's best
we don't see each other.

Was anyone badly hurt?

My wife has a broken wrist, the
children only a few bruises, thank God.

They'll be all right.

And the car is
totally destroyed?

I'm sorry, Pablo, I know
how much you loved it.

Let me get this right.

You took your family out for a drive
in my car, without asking me?

I thought you wouldn't mind.

You said you didn't need
to go anywhere today.

Right.

Well, I, I suppose if I no longer have
a car, I no longer need a driver.

You're firing me?

I have trusted you, Marcel.

You're the last person that
I thought would deceive me.

How am I supposed to
rely on you now, huh?

Pablo, it was a mistake.

I should have asked permission.

I'm sorry, I, I'll pay
for the damages...

Even if you could afford it,
you can't repair my trust.

Can you?

Pablo, I, I've worked
for you for 25 years.

I think of you as family.

I have too much family as it is.

You should go and tend to your own.

You did trust me to drive you
from one mistress to the other.

I kept all your secrets.

I didn't have to do that.

Are you threatening me, Marcel?

You push everyone
away, Pablo, and

in the end you're
going to die alone.

He survived the war, and now he
is going to be killed by the flu.

Thank you for sending for me.

I, uh...

I'll give you time alone, yeah?

Pablo.

I'm sorry I didn't come sooner.

Well, you're here now,

and God hasn't managed to
shut me up just yet, so...

Nobody could shut
you up, Guillaume.

Look at you.

I'm so proud of you.

I wouldn't be me,
not without you.

Tell me what you're
working on, now.

Portraits, traditional ones.

Can you believe that?

Do you remember our
mission, Pablo?

When we first drank absinthe
together, all those years ago?

"The perpetual subversion
of the moral order."

You must never
forget that, Pablo.

No matter how many portraits you sell,
your art serves a greater purpose.

You must never become conventional.

You must never surrender
to bourgeois existence.

No matter how easy it is.

You must always do what is difficult.

It was a beautiful service.

Grandmother would have loved it.

Could you come
back to the house?

I have got a long way
back to Vallauris.

Where is, uh, Picasso?

He's very busy working
on his retrospective.

And that's more important than
your grandmother's funeral?

Emile, please don't.

I'm so sorry, Françoise.
For so much.

Perhaps it wasn't right, but I treated
you as though you were a boy.

I taught you to be tough, to fight.

And I'm grateful for that.

Just, please tell me
that you're happy.

I know I was harsh, but I raised
you to stand up to difficult men,

not to put up with them.

Stand up and cheer,
ladies and gentlemen.

Diaghilev is reviving Parade!

All of Paris will be talking.

In Dieghilev, he has found the
most brilliant principal dancer.

Well, I hope she isn't injured
or seduced into marriage before

she has a chance to become
a truly great artist.

I'm sure she'll be much
happier once the baby comes.

He is perfect, his
eyes. His, his mouth.

He is everything that I
have ever wanted, querida.

If he is a soldier, he will be a
general, and if he's a priest,

then he will be pope.

Isn't that right, Paulo?

You want me to be your driver?

I bought a new Mercedes.

Beautiful lines, a powerful engine...

I'm sure it's a wonderful
car, Papa, but...

But-But-But what?

You need a job, I need a new driver.

We can spend some real time together.

We can start by going to Arles for
the weekend, to the bullfights,

like when your were little.

Those were wonderful times.

Yeah, so it's settled then!

Heh?

Okay.

Genevieve!

Let me introduce you to my son, Paulo.

Oh, you're gonna love her.

She has even better lines than the
Mercedes, and she's coming with us.

There she is.

Genevieve, my son Paulo.

Paulo, Genvieve.

This just came for you, sir.

Thank you.

Dear Pablo, I was angry with you
after the harsh words we exchanged.

But as they have come back to
me in my mind again and again,

I realized you were right.

It is time for me to grow up and
make good on my vow to God.

I have decided to take up residence
in the monastery at Saint-Benoit,

and I hope that I will finally find
peace and fulfillment in the embrace

of the holy brothers.

And as you bask in the embrace of
your new family, I hope, selfishly,

that you will not
become too comfortable,

that you will refuse,
as you always have,

to compromise your prodigious talent
and that you will never be satisfied

with anything less than the
full expression of your genius.

Yours faithfully, Max.

Do you know who these
wild men are, son?

They're your papa's brothers;

the kind of friends that I hope
you find in your life someday.

Pablo, what are you doing?

You must not touch the baby
before you washed your hands!

Françoise, Françoise!

Hi.

Paulo and I went to the
bullfights in Arles.

Take this, take this, son.

If I had known you were so close,
I would have come and joined you.

I wanted to spend some
time alone with Paulo.

What?

You are the one who wanted me to
just give him more attention.

What have you been
doing all this time?

Working.

Is there someone new?

Who would want an
old man like me?

Pablo, if anything,
you've always been honest with me.

Now you're accusing me of lying?

I should leave you.

What are you talking about?

You'd have your freedom.

I could paint again.

Don't be ridiculous.

Nobody leaves Picasso!

Mommy.

Yes, sweetheart. I'm coming.

sync and corrections by awaqeded
www.addic7ed.com