Original subtitles

Rain! God bless!

A male! Promised? - Yes, Mr. the Count.

"Deus lo volt"! - It's God's will!

Our great motto!

Be brave, Countess!

Darling, a male.

I promise.

Come on, Count!

A male or I crush your nose.

Leave, Count!

On you depends the lineage.

It's a male, I feel it!

My blood's boiling!

So why panic, Count?

You must secure the lineage.

Be brave, Countess!

You heard? The time has come!

Be brave, Countess!

Brave!

You haven't drunk.

God despises our impatience.

He's in no hurry, he swims in eternity.

Count!

It's a boy!

A heir! A beautiful baby.

Congratulations, Count!

Trumpets!

What's going on?

Close the window!

Close it!

The Count is thanking God.

Cover up from rain, Count!

I don't care!

Let it rain!

Thanks, Lord! The lineage is secured.

Louder, trumpets!

What a beautiful world!

Braveheart!

God is love, he'll heal you.

Bones can be reattached. - Certainly.

But in Henri's case, you're helpless.

I despise the helpless.

Indeed, doctors are helpless. But why?

Why, Countess?

You knew the risks when you married.

You two were related.

Our mothers were sisters.

Never give life carelessly.

Don't lower your eyes.

Go home. Your son must accept his misfortune.

What misfortune?

Find loners with full pockets.

Little Apple! Who is he?

A victim!

Wink at him!

Alphonse, Count of Toulouse.

Little shrimp.

Would you honor...? - Of course I'll dance...

...with an aristocrat!

Watch French aristocracy dance.

We're doing a great job!

What an elegant place! Do you come often?

Waiter, pink champagne! - Two bottles to start!

Put your rear on velvet, Alphonse!

So what should we talk about?

My seminal fluid.

And its uselessness in my marriage.

I'll offer you after dinner.

Like it's a gift!

You're right, Alphonse. It's a refined liquor.

Countess.

God saves the world with suffering.

Then punish me, not my son!

God is wise, he won't listen to you.

I'll make you a hot milk.

May God punish me!

Transfer his sufferings to me.

Limping man.

Greetings, dwarf!

For the Countess.

His cousins will entertain Henri. They arrive on Saturday.

Henri!

Your cousins are coming!

Jeanne d'Armagnac as well?

Where is Jeanne?

There, with Henri!

It's Gabriel.

These fools are challenging us!

Jeanne!

What?

Tell me, bearded man.

My father said: "know life first, then grow a beard. "

What's life for him?

Hunting and women. - I see.

And for you?

Painting.

And...

...you.

I give you my life.

If love comes, I could marry you.

They challenge us to play ball against them.

This afternoon after the walk. - Why?

Because I said so. I'm the one who decides.

This woman is gorgeous!

Her goodness amazes me.

With her in mind...

I caress myself three times a day.

What about you?

Who's in your mind?

Gabriel, you're deaf.

Masturbation causes deafness.

We go for a walk Limping man!

Let's play ball first. A walk, I said!

You depict your mother like an exiled queen.

She's a goddess.

A goddess I trample on.

The trampling on her.

I treat you brutishly.

Why stoop in front of Henri?

The reality is much worse.

I'm a pig.

I'm bored in this castle.

This Tuesday in Paris, I'll invite some friends.

Female friends?

Why do you accept his mistresses?

Can the sun not shine?

This isn't an answer.

It is.

Look into your own heart.

Painting is a craft.

Life too, my dear.

Painting must be studied in Paris.

French gingerbread! Cinnamon and honey.

We'll have a bean bag racing after lunch.

In big flour bags.

Jeanne, I love you.

Answer me or I faint.

Don't be so pathetic.

It's in bad taste.

A failing proposal from a dwarf is funny.

Love can't be predicted.

Let's stay friends.

To the death.

Look! A walrus in love.

Henri, your future lies...

...in the circus!

Does paint taste good?

You're now baptized!

Will you join the studio Cormon?

Master, I'm just a pretentious dwarf.

Indeed, judging from your daubs.

Here's the lousy work...

...the rubbishes by Mr. de Toulouse.

To help digest his pictorial diarrhea...

...our provincial is offering us:

Fois gras, ham and candies.

Toulouse is one of us!

Arise children of painting!

The glorious day will come!

The young painters' brushes...

...will be pressed into the old masters' rectum!

Absolutely, the young painter's brushes!

It's delicious! - These are our first currants.

To arms, apprentices!

Hammer in your convictions!

March, march...

...so that old masters...

...feel the pain deep down!

Henri de Toulouse- Lautrec, an eminent French painter.

Enjoy the cleaning, Henri!

Goodbye, ladies and gentlemen.

"Mother... "

"... here is your son," says the Gospel.

You're parodying the Holy Scripture.

Eminence, blasphemers are just clowns.

Acting the fool is no excuse!

I'll make sure my son won't forget God.

Cheers!

Sir Lautrec, don't idealize the model.

An ass is an ass.

Giving it ideal curves.

Greek statues' buttocks are inspiring.

Mines too, I hope.

Yours are the tropics!

Your stroke is nervous. Like a virgin.

Are you a virgin? - Yes, Master.

How sad.

Poor thing.

Virginity is the tragedy of dwarves.

You'll take care of this boy.

Decongest his asparagus!

When, Mr. de Toulouse?

This morning, tonight or tomorrow afternoon?

I take them all.

Bravo!

Out everyone!

Your curiosity hurts the model's concentration.

Out!

You were less vocal at your own ceremony.

Are you afraid?

Relax! Don't rush.

Did my helmet and buskins excite you?

No, your eyes...

...and the two hollows above your buttocks.

I'm back to work! - But the school's closed.

I must paint.

Stay and warm my feet.

Mom will worry.

Every day, she kisses me and go to mass.

I must paint.

Sorry.

You can't stay sleep deprived!

I do, with some white wine

Michelangelo, have a rest.

You're crazy! - That's how one becomes Michelangelo.

Mom, a tender maid like you took my virginity.

An earthquake! A cyclone on the ocean!

Mother, your child will be an unrepentant libertine.

These things mustn't be told to a mother!

He was born by the canal...

...in the Arsenal neighborhood.

His single mother...

...called him "Little Henri".

But he was known as "The Wallet" in the Bastille.

One day that he was hungry...

...roaming like a haunted...

...he stole the wallet...

...of a bus driver.

He ended up starving and penniless in the Bastille.

Disgusting lout! You haven't introduce yourself!

He's my favorite lover:

Henri de Toulouse- Lautrec.

My goodness!

...how could die a pimp in the Bastille fortress.

Silence! Silence!

Henri de Toulouse- Lautrec. The old aristocracy!

A thousand years ago the counts of Toulouse...

...led the first crusade!

Sit down, Mr. Salis!

Will the count buy us a drink?

The remain of a squirt from an eminent lineage...

...is buying us a round!

Sir, are you buying our votes to be elected in Montmartre?

Who is he?

Aristide Bruant.

We like neither nobles nor bourgeois...

...on the inspired Montmartre hill.

We eat red wine and raw meat to give us strength.

We wipe ourselves with good manners.

We sing street poetry.

Syphilitic pricks! Let's sing Nini Dogskin.

At Bastille, we like Nini Peau de Chien.

She's so tender and kind.

We like her. - Who?

Nini Dogskin. - Where?

In the Bastille.

Sologne is nice in the fall, but hunting is pitiful...

...and hunters are incredibly vulgar.

Thanks God, its wetlands are magical in the evening light.

Notify the kitchen, I brought some game birds.

Where's my baby boy?

Where's Leonardo Da Vinci?

Honey, where's Henri?

Answer me!

Henri lives in a Montmartre studio now.

Henri paints all the time.

He has fun at night, and go back to work at dawn.

He paints and drinks.

Should we get drunk too?

In Russia, during her orgy nights...

...Catherine the Great refused to part with her bottle.

What a lesson!

What are these saucy jokes for? To offend me?

To make me cry?

Please stay for dinner.

Can't you stare in my eyes?

I love you, but I won't stoop before your tears.

What's "sadness" in Shakespeare's language?

Degas agreed to see your paintings.

Everything will be fine, Henri.

Degas is God the Father.

I won't be able to endure his scorn.

Who said he'll hate your paintings?

I'll die. - But look!

Look!

Is it an ambush?

You kindly invited me in a trap?

What do you expect? Compliments?

Eventually.

Are you the doctor?

I'm finishing my studies.

Doctors are worthless.

They don't cure aging.

Lautrec, are you in good health?

One.

Two.

In order of preference. - Three, four, and so on.

No compliments among colleagues. You're one of us, Lautrec!

One of us!

Your brushes are full of sparkles, bastard!

Long live Degas!

Degas is the artist of the century!

Yes!

...on hot summer twilight...

...met Jules, who was very tender...

...cause staying all night...

Giraffe, stop moving!

I have hiccups.

I can't paint if your Adam's apple jumps.

Bitch! I warn you!

Asshole! What do you want?

Gouge out my eyes?

To kill me?

Mr. Bruant, watch his killer's hands!

Give me that. - Don't touch it!

You'll pay for this!

Your evil dad will crush you and make pat� with your brain!

Stay here, I'm gonna crush his balls!

Go fight outside, this isn't a show for the Black Cat!

You're wrong! That animal is an attraction!

You deserve it!

Throw this pimp out!

La Valadon, a "pot" that models for Renoir.

Nice pot to cook cassoulet with. And Renoir knows about cooking!

Enough! You, get out of here!

Nice drawing, Ms. Valadon.

I see vigor and strength in your outline.

She was standing there in Montmartre...

...with an innocent look.

La Valadon was beautiful...

...smelling like fresh flowers...

...in Saint-Vincent street.

Her father was unknown, and her mother had died...

...so for long...

...she lived with her grandmother...

...or was growing up alone...

...in Saint-Vincent street.

Love at first sight, Mr. Lautrec?

Did he say love at first sight?

I should distrust males.

But you, little guy...

I've been waiting for you forever.

Embarking for Cythera Island on a kitchen table is like poetry.

The rich say stupid things.

But what the poor like is comfort.

We'll do it again tomorrow, but in a soft bed.

I must bring Maurice to her grandmother's home.

He's still asleep.

"Nature is a temple whose pillars... "

"... let out confusing words. "

"Man go through a forest of symbols. "

Isn't French countryside beautiful?

I prefer your smile.

A smile that strikes like a whip.

Watch those colors explode!

I don't paint landscapes! - You're wrong.

Nature bores me.

You are wrong.

Official painting is sad shit.

Unlike these colors, which strike your heart like a bullet.

Long live Impressionists' light!

Long live their light and colors!

In love and painting, there are counterfeiters.

I'm sick of men, cheating and dull feelings.

We'll love each other with open eyes...

...and close them to be buried.

Long live the dwarf who's bored by nature!

This masterpiece requires only two words: admire it!

Let's admire all of them!

I like especially the clouds.

How sad!

They're anecdotes, not paintings!

You're in a temple. Go fool about elsewhere.

Sure, old bag.

I praise the "Death of Ravana"...

...Fernand Cormon's masterpiece.

Men and women in artistic clothes...

...That reveals what can be seen.

Historical nudity necessary to educate French youth.

Thanks, young man.

A battle of titans in painting...

...opposes today traditionalists to progressives.

Guess which side I lean towards.

They're lying to you!

They're lying!

This one...

...that one...

...this and that, are not paintings.

This isn't a woman either.

It's an image to jerk off.

Gentlemen, unzip your pants!

Join the society painters and consummate.

Arise children of painting!

...the glorious day will come! - Anarchist!

Predator!

Iconoclast!

Mediocrity!

Learn how to paint before criticizing!

Anarchists!

Assholes!

Pretentious twits! - Impressionists!

Well, brats!

So my paintings are to masturbate?

You Bernard, and you Lautrec.

I noticed in your recent works the bad influence of impressionists.

All painting geniuses spit on Impressionism.

Look, they're judging you...

...and all idiots who ignore perspective and anatomy...

The common sense!

I predict, Gentlemen...

...that the Degas, Seurat, Monet will never share humanity's legacy!

Here is why:

How daring to compare Rafael's science...

...to Mr. Monet's daubs!

They're not welcomed here!

What about freedom?

Impressionism' freedom? I wipe my ass with it!

It's refreshing.

Emile Bernard, you're fired!

Better be free than joining fools who hate novelty!

Well done, Professor Cormon!

Long live freedom! - Get out!

Long live unhindered art! Long live freedom!

Freedom to paint in meadows full of cow pats.

It's wrong to throw him out of this contest.

The colors you use...

...show what you think of my paintings.

"I'm not trying to revive French art. "

"I struggle to fill up an innocent paper with tasteless work. "

"Send me 300 francs. I have an exhibition in Belgium. "

"Kiss our family tree's treasures. "

"Goodbye, Dear. You bad son is very much missing you. "

"Yours, Henri. "

Mail for you.

It's your mommy.

Will you introduce me to your mother?

How beautiful!

Let's go!

Henri! Suzanne!

It's not your mother's home! - Kiss me.

It's rude to kiss in a stairway.

I love you love you love you!

Stop kissing, Leontine is offended.

She's offended?

Leontine is offended!

Suzanne, undress!

In your workshop, not in my dining room!

Leontine is Catholic!

A doctor can't work without his maid!

My panties too?

Leontine! Valadon's skin is softer than cotton.

Send the lewd to hell.

These buttocks are a disgrace!

My ass, a disgrace? - Leontine, have you seen them?

I don't serve with closed eyes...

...alas!

As a virgin, did you know that Renoir regained...

...his youthfulness after seeing those buttocks.

Dessert is served!

Caution, it's an antique table!

He's jealous of Renoir because I'm modeling for him this afternoon.

What a hard competition!

Renoir is a solid painter!

His portraits are corny. Life should be exciting!

You want excitement? Marry me.

There not married!

Don't cry, they will marry soon.

A beauty in a family of morons improves the pedigree!

Right? So let's get married!

Leontine, don't stretch your neck like an ostrich.

What am I for you?

A rear?

A model to drag to a studio?

When will I see you again?

When?

When I'll meet your parents.

Lautrec...

...I'm not a rag.

I am not a rag, too.

Mr. Renoir...

...my son is with my mother. Can I sleep in your attic?

You lover kicked you out?

With Lautrec, it's never easy.

You make easy things difficult yourself.

Damn, Renoir!

Good morning, Mr. Renoir.

How's your health?

I truly love Lautrec.

But I'm jealous of his painting.

Does it make sense?

Once in the grave, all start making sense.

No flirting!... August.

You're as alert as a fish.

Shit, the dwarf waited all night.

I modeled all night, I'm exhausted. - Old Renoir paints in candlelight?

Has a gas lamp.

With enough gas to last all night?

Painting keeps one young.

You suffer, so you blame me!

What a clown!

I'm not cheating, but you'd deserve it!

I won't be here when you come back.

You're quiet.

A lady in my life has become essential.

And...

At times, she vanishes like a soap bubble.

When I was a child...

...and soap bubbles were bursting...

...I cried.

Let's go South this summer.

Promise?

Berthe told me you often cry.

That's how mothers entertain themselves.

Mom!

Long live our family's universal power!

There is Henri. Glad you came.

Long live Japan!

Get off now, you stupid!

Jeanne!

My bearded man!

My husband.

Her husband.

Long live soldiers!

What do you say?

My angel.

Is Daddy awake?

No, Daddy sleeps.

He's whistling a pretty girl.

Unlike him, your painting doesn't bother me.

I always want to copy Lautrec.

I can't stand this.

Artists' jealousy is bitter.

What?

Come on, sleepy-time!

Sleepy-time...

What a cute sugar daddy I have!

He sleeps like an baby!

The great Renoir who paints chubby kids...

...and big-bottomed girls! - Bad mouth!

When are you back with Lautrec? - There's no rush.

I'm punishing him for thinking I'm unfaithful.

Girl are as complicated as painting.

August, be polite! - Why complicate a sex story?

Stop it!

This old master captured the true life.

Does it mean living with a model who bedded all Paris' painters?

God loves loose women.

They're destitute.

Does the truth hurt your ears?

Is yours the only truth?

Shut up, Asparagus!

What is God for you?

A jerk like your mother?

Tell your mother you love her.

Does she have a dream princess for me?

Do you want monstrous grandchildren like your dwarf?

Being bitter isn't in your nature.

Life is a gift from God.

Life? I don't understand it.

Luckily, all seems simple when I draw.

Mother, I want to cry.

You should go back to this young lady in Paris.

Mom!

What a pity! I was eager to see you.

I'm going to Limoges.

Do you want some money? - Dear friend, you won't need any.

Gaston, mind your mustache.

My boyfriend has vineyards. He's wealthy.

Grandma is sick.

You already buried her three times. - So what?

Never mind.

What I don't understand, I put it in my paintings.

The Gauls feared the sky would fall on them.

Painting tells us it's happening.

The brilliant dwarf can't stop feeling superior.

Come in, honey.

Go, coachman!

Why do you despise Limoges? - They make chamber pots!

Limoges is closer than Tahiti!

What do you know about geography?

Henri!

Why choose a laundry?

Painting requires raw beauty!

The raw beauty!

Miss, you embody beauty itself.

I want you. Pose for me!

We dislike artists' studios!

Once naked, you end up with a child asking for brushes!

C'mon girls, break's over!

Pose for me.

We have collars to starch and shirts to deliver.

C'mon girls, move your behind!

She must pose for me. - Bye, sir. Come H�l�ne.

I want that spark in her eyes.

H�l�ne...

...pose for me.

Accept and I treat you to dinner. - Seriously?

I offer you a supper at Maxim's! - Goodbye, sir!

Ladies, you're invited too.

Only princes can invite the queens of Montmartre.

Get off my way, kid.

She raises her legs at Moulin Rouge.

Dwarfy, come see me dance! - I'm honored by your invitation.

An obscene mouth and divine legs.

But a terrible voice. Great!

Cancan! Cancan!

What are your flowers for? - A gift for your princess.

That's crazy! They aren't princesses. They're maids!

Lautrec!

You'll miss the cancan!

All three of us are going to pee.

Is Suzanne there? - Impossible, she's in Limoges.

Hide your mustache.

Let's dislocate our kneecaps! The Cancan!

Looking for your dwarf? - Why do you think I'm crawling?

Suzanne's here. - Really?

Aren't you in Limoges?

I just came back. - Crawling?

The taller the man, the stupidest.

Follow me, Anatole.

The best of Montmartre: The quadrille!

Cheese Girl!

Nini Upside Down!

Greedy Girl!

And Montmartre's phenomenon: Valentin-The-Boneless!

Your dwarf is looking for you.

Where is he? - There.

So I go this way.

Gabriel, is Suzanne here?

If she is, we'll find her.

Have you seen Suzanne? - Suzanne who?

Look at those legs! - I'm looking for Valadon.

I saw her crawling there.

Valadon! Bring your ass here!

Valadon, Valadon... There are nicer buttocks here!

Ain't I right, girls?

Was Suzanne there or not?

It was someone looking like her.

You're lying.

Leave your brushes.

I want you, little man.

Valadon...

Our love is quite disappointing.

It's time to end it.

End. E.N.D.

I missed you. Limoges is too far.

Rascal, I'm sure you had fun and new adventures.

You see Henri...

...your little lady isn't jealous.

How's Grandma? - What Grandma?

You mean grandma with a mustache.

She gave me this dress.

I killed her.

No grandma between us anymore.

My little goat, I love you.

Said the little goat.

I'm not the third wheel.

Why fear posing for me?

I don't want you cry.

I'm not crying.

Let's go. - Please accept.

Accept. - Funny aristocrats!

We'll eat truffles and ice cream washed down with wine.

We'll be stuffed!

Don't waste your time.

I'm not an interesting person.

Go eat your truffles.

Are you Sarah Bernhardt? A czarina?

If you weren't my sister, I'd punish you!

Theo!

She loves lights and mirrors, like all stiff girls!

Why are you crying Vincent?

Who painted this picture?

Impossible!

No way to gather nicely to look at pictures and reproductions!

Worse...

...to encourage one another.

What a great work!

Beautiful painting!

Well done!

Brother... Are you serious?

Are you a pure heart?

Your painting tells about the poor and suffering.

Mr. Vincent, Thank you!

You, come here! - What?

I'm gonna kill you! - Not the knife!

Another story of love and wine, and red wine stains!

Love is complicated, isn't it, Mr. Henri?

Free the space. Let's dance!

Music!

Kill him! - No, no blood!

He's drunk! - The hell with that bastard!

Don't, Lautrec.

Bastard!

It's an exhibit for the case!

Put pink and red on a painting...

...to show that one's life can be ruined in a coffee shop.

Going crazy! Commiting crimes! Darkness...

...under a Japanese joy appearance!

You dirty cops!

Let the bastard die!

Don't send him to Guyana.

He's a bastard! - I beg you!

A dribble in a dance hall and...

...the guillotine cuts a head.

It's Beautiful. - Yes!

We could paint the same picture.

It's risky.

But why not?

Do you want to try?

These old Japanese masters shows us the right path.

Refined colors, but alive like shop signs.

Yes!

Combining colors to express joy...

...serenity... pain.

Serenity... pain.

Pain and serenity?

That's water and fire together. Like us.

Like us.

Fire and water...

That's beauty.

Vincent said so.

Joy... serenity... pain!

No yelling here. - Get out!

Don't touch me!

Who let them enter?

At Caf� Mollard, we don't serve the trash!

If for you poetry and painting...

...are like having a nice meal, you are pigs.

Bon app�tit!

This is a bourgeois place.

It's awful!

Awful!

Only the poor can understand.

Poetry is for them.

What's this life?

Come into my arms.

What do our lives mean?

Come into my arms. And you too.

We must remain humble.

We paint with our hands, yet painting flows from elsewhere...

...from a much deeper source.

A well...

...far to be reached.

Henri, my hands are heavy...

...my head is very weak.

Do not shake.

Things are changing. Everything.

Our century will end with a huge revolution.

We won't be here after the storm...

...to witness those better times for our society.

look, sister!

It's the dauber who asked to paint your eyes' sparkles.

Hello, Mr. Lautrec!

H�l�ne!

It's beautiful! Bravo dwarf!

In 10 years, art critics and speculators...

...will see that you're a genius!

In 10 years, will you still greet me?

I'll end up in the gutter.

A you'll pass by...

...proud...

...with wings on your back...

...Like the Genius of Bastille.

Mr. Lautrec, should we start?

Let's go!

Henri, you'll end up in the gutter.

I'll go tickle your toes in the morgue.

Pascal rightly said: "The last act is bloody. "

You'll be buried in the Pantheon!

What a bunch of clowns!

A poor working woman...

...lived near her treasure.

She was his little Gis�le...

...a pure girl with a golden heart...

...who worked like a dressmaker...

...at the top of Martyres street.

On Saturdays in "La Galette"...

...she was dancing for fun.

The wild hawk is watching you.

Its appearance is suspicious.

Beware, you're already his prey!

He dances with her on a dizzying waltz...

...but the villain is planning your misfortune, poor girl.

Hold the pose!

Indeed, after a week...

...the girl was locked in a brothel...

...and in this unhealthy place...

...had lost all her illusions.

She grabbed a knife on the table...

...and planted it in her heart...

...cursing the miserable who fled, cynical and mocking.

Why not break his face?

Stop drinking, you must dance!

I'm Greedy, I do as pleased!

Look at this poster! - It's beautiful!

All Parisian are mentioning this shit...

...and say: "The Greedy is a fat cow"!

Eat that garbage!

You can't hit a cripple!

You're a dirty comb!

Shut up or I break your nose. You too.

You again! Are you stupid?

This poster put the world at your feet. - Did she wrecked you?

I adore her.

The Prince of Wales is here, thanks to this poster!

From your hidden nests...

...mothers, watch your offspring...

...because the avid vulture...

...has a big appetite!

Mr. Lautrec.

Did you see that, Mr. Zidler?

Do it again and you're fired!

That poster is Art Nouveau. It's advertising!

The museum is hitting the streets.

It brings in good dough!

Advertising is a great idea!

Let's go girls!

Your Art Nouveau isn't worth my ass.

Teach your buttocks, Greedy!

Don't cry sir. It's sad.

Little Genius, the official shows ignore you...

...but you're more famous than awarded painters.

Dwarfy's no rubbish!

Why are you sad?

Why?

Van Gogh committed suicide.

I'll kill him!

I'll kill him.

Let go of me!

Are you crazy! You can't fight here in Belgium.

Morons are everywhere.

Calm down, Henri. - Morons are everywhere!

Is he talking about me?

Incredible!

This rump is threatening me.

Such a small rump, I hardly see him.

Mr. de Groux, let's save Franco-Belgian friendship.

Does your dwarf know I'm well trained with pistols?

The duel is uneven.

Mr. de Groux?

It smells blood.

The French are lice.

Mr. de Groux.

You claim that Mr. Van Gogh...

...was a madman, and that his painting is...

...the expression of a sick person?

I defend real painting against lunatics' delirium.

You know nothing about painting, piece of shit!

Sure.

Idiot! - Mr. Toulouse!

Ignorant asshole. - Now you go too far!

Muddy palette.

Fat shitty Belgian.

Tomorrow...

...I'll put a bullet in your head...

...and come every year piss on your grave.

Mr. de Toulouse!

You're not a gentleman!

You, shut up!

What would I become if you were killed?

Yourself, the Great Valadon.

Another meter of wine to drink, and everything will be perfect.

Painting is an ogre.

His brother knew it.

See Vincent? We find consolation eating omelettes.

Poor Vincent.

The bastards won!

Cheers, great dwarf!

Suzanne.

Don't come close, it's hot here.

Where is the little man going?

See a whore?

Are you lonely? - No more than anyone else.

If you like tall girls, you'll enjoy my breasts.

Come, I'm experienced. - No thank you, ladies.

I'm not a low class whore. My dad was an official...

...I put a lot in bed.

I do amazing things!

You look groggy.

An anvil fell on my head. - An anvil?

It could be worse, anvils are fun.

You're a funny dwarf.

You're woman left? Red Rose will comfort you.

Do not do it again!

Stop him!

This pig's gonna kill her!

Go back to the brothel, lesbian slut!

Your child is moving in me, you bastard!

It's Mireille being beaten by her pimp, that's okay.

This moron is worse than the rich...

...who aren't worth a dog's shit.

I love him, but I don't want to be beaten up!

I have delicate joints.

Your pimp hits you? You don't earn enough?

I'm the best cash register around. - Why then?

He saw us caressing. - What a jerk!

Two girls masturbating is lovely.

Finally! A man who knows that between women...

...a sex story is always a love story!

Kiss him, girls!

Long live the excluded! - Come here.

Long live lesbians! Champagne!

Being hit isn't all. He just sold her!

My Mimi will live in a brothel.

A prison!

Tenderness. Bring the champagne!

I couldn't stop Henri to move away from God.

I feel ashamed. I'm so clumsy with him.

A useless old woman!

I'm tormented, not by my wrinkles...

...but my inside poverty.

An old soul, dry...

...and useless.

It's horrible.

Our greatest saints, our mistics said the same thing...

..."My soul is dry. "

Henri's painting is disturbing.

It has a monster hidden inside.

I don't think he's lost.

He has a great soul.

I'm scared.

What about your sweetheart? - Valadon left.

Where's my little prince?

Miss Valadon. - Where's my sweetheart?

You won't avoid wedding me...

...at The Madeleine, with organs and choir!

A little tongue is all it takes to tickle the candy.

Henri!

She'll have her wedding, but tonight is my bachelor party!

Where's the prince of Albi?

Come out!

Tell me where, lesbians!

She's insatiable!

Lautrec!

Let's marry or I'll kill myself!

I bought arsenic.

Threatening him? How ugly!

All this for a little stick. - This one is priceless!

I hate lesbians, they're scary.

What you said is vulgar, dear!

You marry him for his money.

I'm not a whore.

Girls that sell their vagina are a disgrace.

It's a well of love, not a piggy bank.

Don't insult these women.

No one is worth those ruined by life. - Every trash deserves your love.

What is it for your love?

I'm sick of universal love!

Suzanne, I love you. Let's get married.

Bye, Countess.

Stand up, Suzanne.

Let's buy a wedding dress...

...and see La Madeleine's priest.

Not long ago, Montmartre...

...had cows and sheep under the wings of the mills.

The manure was flowing in alleys.

Henri...

...I'll throw myself in a manure pit.

Suzanne, I love you...

Let's get married.

Do you love me?

Are you sure?

I love your painting.

...and pelted with stones the drunkard.

Hurt by their attack, blood dripping from her forehead...

...the drunk woman turned around and looked at them.

They stopped their attack, ashamed and scared...

...under the gaze of the drunkard...

...while gray-haired passersby looking surprisingly at the scene...

...found the drunkard quite appalling.

But the workers and children let her go.

Who knows what dark secret the drunkard is hiding.

Perhaps the sorrow for a lost child...

...remembering their past happiness.

So one night, she decides to take her life...

...the drunk woman.

Once death, which she calls in vain...

...will shatter her glass of wine...

...she will bless her destiny, the drunk lady.

I'm the drunkard...

...with a belly full of Porto.

He's really not ashamed.

A dropping!

It's my buddy sleeping.

The show's over, Mr. Henri.

Everything's over, lady. The Valadon left.

It's the end. she's moving out.

It's killing me.

We're going to comfort you.

Girls! Girls!

It's Mr. Henri!

Dante went to hell. He said: "Paradise is nearby. "...

..."Just push the back door!"

Incredible!

When you enter a brothel, Giraffe, remember Dante!

Here we give our customers joy and pleasure.

The dirty-minded girls are healthy...

...with no risk of catching the clap.

Joy and pleasure! - It's no picnic!

We have a funeral room...

...strict nurses and a nursery.

Mr Henri, I'll call Mireille!

Come, I'll introduce you.

We're glad you came to see us!

Gentlemen, get out your wallet!

It's time to break your piggy, dirty men!

We have redheads, blondes, and North girls who smell the tide.

Is this what Paris' brothels look like?

Mother of God!

Do you want to paint me or lay me?

A serious painter does both simultaneously.

So little sparrow, take out your brush!

Miss Valadon...

Rosa the Red.

You know Gaston...

...Grandma with her mustache.

Please, dear.

I'm not coming back home, I'm moving out. Yes, Madam.

Gaston will carry my boxes.

Gaston, could you carry The Valadon outside?

He's jealous after I refused to marry him and be his slave...

...to cook and clean his brushes.

Sorry. - Not at all, Madam.

Gaston, take the boxes.

She speaks nonsense...

Hurry up, dear.

...but her paintings go very deep.

She paints souls...

Enlighten souls.

Don't be disturbed by him.

Lautrec is neither Plato nor Bergson.

His philosophy reeks of absinth.

Dirty crab.

I need something you can't give. - What exactly?

What do you need?

How would I know?

Poor kitty!

What do you think? "Swan Lake".

Nice set for a brothel, isn't it?

Handsome soldier, like you my son is in the army.

Love and Parisian elegance.

Gentlemen, pick up your girl.

They all speak English.

I haven't meet all Parisian girls, but I guarantee this one.

Very clean.

It's wetter upstairs, Gentlemen.

Of course! I could I forget!

Hurry up, follow me!

You're beautiful!

Yes?

Here we are!

Henri? - Hi Dad.

They must wait, the ladies are comforting each other.

Sorry, really!

Stay, we're available. Mr. Henri mistakes pleasure for work.

Come, gentlemen.

There's a little family problem.

My son.

Two friends wanting a wife-swapping party.

Good idea!

Come in, boys in skirt!

This way, roast beefs!

The exhibition review broke your mom's heart.

These bastards attacks your disability.

Never debate the review. Critics are above us.

They live up there...

...like lice. - Listen!

"Lautrec's talent is disabled like himself... "

Poor dad.

It's outrageous! - What's going on?

Critics drag our name in the mud.

Bastards! A whore never does that. - Thanks, madam.

We have good manners! Here come princes, priests...

...army's general deputy.

Even roast beefs! Playing bagpipes, guys?

It's a cordial agreement.

A pilgrim's stick under the skirt?

Stop shaking this article like Moses' tables.

According to this idiocy, you chose to be disabled.

Who knows?

God is cunning.

Honestly, I prefer your horse drawings.

We played with two Scottish reeking of garlic.

Don't paint sad things.

I'm exhausted.

See my horrible face. - Don't speak sadly at the table.

It's forbidden.

Why paint such an irrelevant scene?

These women are so great in their misery.

Beauty!

Mr. Henri, come eat potatoes with us.

Frankly, I prefer your horses. - Dad!

Poor dad!

To those who know to look...

...your nobility is breathtaking.

They are beautiful, my dears.

This one has the pox.

One hundred eighty seven.

Rosa the Red.

Bring another batch.

Move on!

Faster!

Come on, girls!

Move on!

You stay with the infected ones!

I write from prison, my poor Polyte.

I was brought this morning to the doctor.

These diseases are hidden before they break out.

Now I'm jobless in Saint- Lazare.

A girl gave you an ugly gift...

...that you'll keep all your life.

An indolent bubo? - No doubt.

Are you going to cut me? - No, an embrocation.

Ad mercury to your blood, hoping it has an effect.

Madam!

The police!

The police? Henri's not a murderer.

Police, like post office, makes home delivery.

That's progress!

A little more.

It's a suicide, drinking like that!

To help me stay awake.

To see reality in my paintings.

A little bit...

Mom, it's hard to see the reality.

Where's the reality?

In the brothels?

Your friends said you lock yourself for weeks in these houses.

Why? - Because I feel good.

There my painting skills has progressed tremendously.

Please.

I must paint.

I beg you.

Henri!

They released me.

We can't have sex anymore, I've caught the pox.

Why are you smiling?

Going on will ruin your life.

Rosa.

You gave me nicest gift.

Not you!

So I infected you.

Shit. - The nicest gift.

Your hair.

The beautiful red of Italian's Renaissance masters.

I loved painting you hair.

All angels come from Albi and have atrophied legs.

I'm scared. I wake up ten times every night sweating.

GOODBYE, DEAR

It doesn't prove Henri is dead.

The little man was a great comfort.

You men tear me to pieces.

I'm sick of your whinings.

You know what you are?

Crap pumps.

They searched in brothels, in hospitals and the morgue.

He's suffering, destroyed and sick.

Henri wants to die away from me, Bishop.

Is the weight of the world equally distributed?

Is God fair?

I don't know Countess.

This question gives the mystics stomach ulcer.

Prostitutes saw him by the Arsenal.

Music!

Tickles in their pants? Big boys need to dream!

Look, young men!

That's a meaty belly!

Smuggling meat in a perfect anatomy.

Come inside see The Greedy's well of pleasure...

...that turned the Prince of Wales' head.

Take out your coins!

He's there!

Your mother lost sleep. She no longer eats.

The Countess is crying. - It's mothers' role.

She's dying, Henri.

You must go with her to Albi..

What does she want me to do?

Come die in Albi?

To suffer Riri's agony in her living room?

Come, Henri.

You hands are hooks! Stop harpooning me, bastards!

I need high seas. Goodbye!

His painting craze devoured him.

You can't help him! Protect yourself.

You despair is becoming insane.

Henri, we should seriously speak about madness.

Why mention madness?

Leave Paris now!

Leave him alone, Countess. Little Whale needs wine...

...to be in peace. Get out of here!

Why turn out your beloved mother?

Here come the flies to eat her boy.

You said she can't help you. It's shameful.

Little Henri aims at mothers...

...and does bang!

My God!

I'm meditating about a natural product:...

...oil.

Mr. Henri!

Cheers, old trunk!

At the foot of this tree, Van Gogh hugged me.

What is he doing? - What did he say?

I say the earth who brought Van Gogh...

...can't be damned.

Ms. Am�lie!

Ms. H�l�ne!

In Montmartre, beauty blossoms.

My respects, Ms. H�l�ne.

I'm unable to paint your solemnity...

...and your nobleness.

Why such a sadness?

I didn't want to pose...

...nor to speak about myself.

I can't paint anymore.

Maybe I've never known how.

There are beers, help yourself.

His single mother...

...called him her "Little Henri"...

But he was known as "the purse" in the Bastille.

Goddamn dwarf, you can't mess up a painting!

One day...

...The boy I loved asked me to die together.

He killed himself.

I didn't follow him.

I have since soot in the head.

That's my story.

I'm ashamed.

I haven't seen the dead man eating you from inside.

Let's try again.

Mr. Lautrec...

...how do people manage to live?

For an educational purpose...

...the professor opens his dissection classes to the public.

We remind you that cries and other emotional reactions...

...will disturb the surgeon.

This is...

H�l�ne said: "I must reunite with my love. "

I replied: "suicide is worthless. "

This morning, she hanged herself.

Admirable and so stupid, one wants to cry.

Look at her poor neck.

Ladies, emotional reactions...

What fascinates you in this carnage?

Trying to capture this violence?

Nothing's pathetic in painting.

The quiet cruelty of our daily life is enough.

The cruelty of our daily life?

He was born by the canal...

...in the Arsenal neighborhood.

His single mother...

...called him her Llttle Henri.

But he was known as "The Wallet" in the Bastille.

Henri is confined for his sake. You must sign!

We could send him to England.

There all the lords drink, Henri would go unnoticed.

You won't sign? - I reject the laws of the Republic!

Henri often set his studio on fire.

Lautrec can end his life as pleased.

What is virtue's friend thinking about?

The Easter Island's statues.

They know women give birth to suffering.

Sign the paper yourself.

Countess, loneliness is your fate.

I'll heal you, dear Henri.

I don't need help! I find strength in myself...

...like the great Van Gogh, who offered a whore his cutted ear!

What are we doing?

What, exactly?

The Toulouse era has ended like the crusades had.

It's the end. - My uncle, you must be drunk!

Alphonse is drunk.

I saw the wrecking of a great families.

It's the end! The aristocracy sank without trace...

...in its pee! - You're drunk.

The end!

My doggies, here is your candy...

The nicest gift goes to a saint, Mrs. de Toulouse.

A ruby!

It's beautiful! - it makes me cry.

Even in Republic, jewelries are only for countesses.

Republic is sad. - As is rain in a cemetery.

The republican equality is complete nonsense!

Keep the ring.

I take the case.

An empty case sums up my whole life.

Don't leave!

We'll lick you all night long.

Okay?

A lineage died. His last descendant is in asylum.

Wagner would say "The Toulouse found their escutcheon:"...

..."an empty case. "

Count, your cane.

Watch your head.

Lautrec wanted pencils and paper to prove that he's sane. Is he?

Don't panic, we're treating him.

Your whorehouse is aseptic.

In a brothel, customers like glitters and colors.

White circus!

A weird sense of humour, a risky way to dance above the void.

Suzanne!

He's raving.

Damn, you have no idea!

Are you married? - Yes, with a banker.

The Valadon is now respectable.

Old ladies call her "Mrs. " and she has many lovers.

Love make one healthy. It's the honey of life.

Don't worry, we'll heal you...

...with frozen water, a therapeutic tradition.

I have a thousand clowns in my life.

But at night, I miss you.

During the day too.

With Suzanne, it was hell.

But the sky was still blue.

Blue sky.

My friend...

Your pencils will help you out.

My pencils aren't wood and graphite.

They're thoughts through the phalanx bones.

I don't recognize my Henri.

He's dazed as if he was stroke by the lightning.

As if informed about his empty skull.

As if after such an anxiety, he had found peace.

Did he find the secret of painting...

...or a snob way to draw? I don't know.

Is he released?

Yes.

His drawings are beautiful.

A terrified stroke above the void.

Art Nouveau is Inspired, not by God or homeland...

...but by madness.

If artists are indeed prophets...

...the next century will be frightening.

What have the judges decided? - You are free!

I'm in probation. Viaud is watching over me. Right?

Henri, you're fragile. I'll be your nanny.

My nanny. My lady's companion.

My hairy Pompadour.

What is it Henri?

Tomorrow, you'll be free.

The birds are singing.

The sky is blue. The birds are singing.

To Moulins street, number 24!

Moulins Street? It's a brothel!

Mrs. Denise's house, a respected place.

You like the abyss, Mr. Lautrec.

Henri, you're fragile! You're heading to the abyss.

Little One needs to recover.

Where is he?

You pushed me! - Did you lose something?

What are you looking for?

What a fool!

Move on!

Have you seen a sad little bearded man?

Move on soldiers!

He's been spotted around here.

Your billhook is sinister.

Will God use it to cut off our balls at the Judgment day?

I know your posters, master. You are famous!

Unlike me.

But I have faith. In my old chest...

...a teen heart is beating for Shakespeare and Moliere.

Ah, Moliere!

I played in Moliere. Awkwardly, but assiduously.

Mr. Lautrec, applaud the fool who acted in Moliere...

...and cut grass now for his rabbits.

is everything alright?

No, I should be more serious.

A serious painter can pull his own hair and raise above the floor.

Above the...?

What else, master?

I'm bored, waiting for the Trial.

The trial.

The Judgment Day?

The one in Albi's cathedral has always left me breathless.

The Trial.

Times have changed.

God doesn't judge anymore. Serious painters are judging him!

Judging God, master?

Isn't it too daring?

It is.

Van Gogh knew it first.

Pompadour found her baby!

Happy?

Master!

Look!

Suzanne!

Suzanne!

To our nettle-flavored love!.

The toad only drinks apple juice now.

His nanny looks after him.

I love you, you love me.

My heart is bleeding.

Upon meeting, past lovers should remain silent.

Don't mess with words when hearts bleed.

It's beautiful.

It's beautiful.

I'm glad I dumped you.

You'd have corrected my drawings, and imposed your style.

I never did.

It was more subtle.

You screwed up your eyes when my stroke looked like yours.

I loved your eyes, so I would have imitated you.

What a joke!

Did you hear? A genius too stupid for words!

And your banker?

Forget him, he was a moron.

Don't let go of your pencils, girl

A pencil is a good railing.

May God protect you from yourself!

What happened to the romance of our youth?

Does the past end up in the sewer?

No. In your heart, in the warm.

The little one is exhausted.

He need the sea to recover.

My heart is beating...

Let go Henri, the wind is cold!

Go to hell, Viaud!

Please, dear friend.

The sea, master. Homer loved it so much.

When the blind man heard the waves, he shouted...

..."yo, yo!" to greet them.

All dreamers love the sea.

Facing the sea...

...Homer declaimed a poem.

Now, it's your turn!

When I hear my hear beating...

...my mother is calling me.

Taking my drunken child-like face in the streets...

...at every step, I suffocate and totter.

When I hear my heart beating...

...my mother is standing there...

...Calling me.

Mom! Mom!

Is the Countess here?

Sorry, Bishop.

What's going on?

What happened? We do not know yet.

Madam, you may come out.

We arrived.

I can sleep a bit more? I'm exhausted.

We should all pray.

As a child, I knew the sap rises in the tree in the spring.

I ran through the meadows to check it out.

Trees were my friends.

I was happy running there.

It was the last time.

The day after...

...I had a cast.

The trees are beautiful.

Come. - You never painted landscapes.

A face in elusive enough. Imagine a landscape!

I'll tell you a secret. - I love secrets.

The most delectable perfume is the women's navel.

After sniffing it, I sensed God.

Who can hide there but God?

Look what's coming from Paris!

Henri, your father in an oil cart!

These machines will squash the hens.

They have no future. Too noisy. - But they're nice.

You take a sunbath like a Tuareg.

The great Flaubert loved the Tuareg.

Especially their women, with hips like amphoras.

Let's travel together to the Sahara or the East.

Did you came back to blow the mort?

Sorry? - He's silly.

You came back to blow the mort.

Precisely! I'll kill a boar and with its delicious black meat...

...put you back on your feet! All four, including your crutches!

Van Gogh, Raphael, Watteau...

...all three died at age 37. - Be quiet.

I have no room left if God knows how to count.

You say silly things.

Silly things.

You're a slob!

Now I kill flies only.

In the Republic, ridicule never killed anyone.

I won't let the flies bite you. Why not, if It's God's will?

"Deus lo volt"...

...is our family motto.

Poor dad.

Beauty is mysterious.

This is crap.

A painter dreams of a painting, God trip him up.

Stop teasing the bishop! You're an agitator.

A parenthesis, Mom.

A trivial parenthesis in the history of painting.

Admiral!

It all makes sense and is consistent.

Thank you, Admiral.

Thank you.

What are you dreaming about?

The ocean waves.

"The sea", said Homer.

Mother.

You.

Only you, mother.

God will help you. He's good and just.

Really?

Perfect.

Only dumbs like your dwarf can befriend God-the-just.

Henri!

Many are sons of noble race and scums...

...descending from old paintings, the bastards!

All of them have an ugly body, with short legs...

...and a belly like a round bag, the bastards!

In the morning, they reek of wine and whore...

...after drinking in cabarets, the bastards!

Coachman, is you name... Henri?

Henri...

...like the Kings of France.

Like my little King.