All language subtitles for Genius.S02E08.Picasso.Chapter.Eight.1080p.AMZN.WEBRip.x265.HEVC.6CH-MRN_track2_eng

Previously, on Genius...

You are a genius, Maya.
Come here.

ROSENBERG: 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's going to marry.

Perhaps you should pay
a visit to his wife

and inform her of this...
expectation.

LEO: Pablo Picasso,
meet Henri Matisse.

40 years on,
and the great Henri Matisse

is still trying to outdo me.

(laughing)

APOLLINAIRE:
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?

PICASSO:
The woman I love is dying.

You think I want to paint
your goddamn portrait?

YOUNG PICASSO:
Maybe I should be a soldier.

Well, then you will be general,

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

JACOB: I had a vision.
Jesus appeared to me.

I warned you to stay away
from Picasso.

-(grunts)
-Stop!

I have missed you, terribly.

I only want you, Françoise.
Let's make a baby.

FRANCOISE: 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.

*

*

(passersby laughing)

(knocking on door)

(sighs)

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...

-(bells jingle)
-Well, um...

(chuckles)

PICASSO: 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.

And 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 anymore.

So instead you want to sew tutus
and paint backdrops?

It's 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.

People are going
to start buying again.

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. (chuckling)
It is a figure of speech.

And I do not need money.

I need... a new challenge.

CHOREOGRAPHER:
And one, two,

three, four, five, six, seven,
and eight, and...

PICASSO: 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,
you know,

between onstage and backstage.

DIAGHILEV:
Between reason and insanity?

Well, it will certainly shake
the establishment.

CHOREOGRAPHER:
...four, five, six, seven, back.

Ah, Olga Khokhlova.

Your eye's as good as your
reputation would suggest,

Monsieur Picasso.

She's so elegant.

DIAGHILEV: Yes.
I have high hopes for her.

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

CHOREOGRAPHER: ...six, seven,
and eight. And one...

Pablo... don't waste your time.

Why not?

Russian aristocracy.

She's looking for a duke
or a viscount,

not a controversial
Spanish painter. Hmm?

CHOREOGRAPHER:
And one, two, three, four,

-(snapping fingers rhythmically)
-five, six, seven, eight.

(fingers snap)

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...
-COCTEAU: 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.

(Picasso clears throat)

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.

(laughs)
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 am not.

(indistinct chatter)

I thought you had
forgotten me entirely.

Oh, nonsense.

I would never miss
one of our lunches. Please.

OLGA:
Yes.

-(Picasso sighs)
-I suppose I should be grateful.

You do give me your
undivided attention

once a week for an hour.

(scoffs)
Olga, please,

let's just enjoy, huh?

I saw you in that horrid
Life magazine...

-with her.
-I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I can't help it
if the press insists on

publishing all these stories...

First that stupid girl
and 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, he 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...
-(sniffles)

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!

FRANCOISE:
Pablo...

Olga followed me again,
screaming at me.

It terrified the children.

(sighs)
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,

giving 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.

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.

Mm. (chuckles)

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?

-OLGA: This was our beach.
-Oh, no.

OLGA: Did you think
I wouldn't find out,

as if I have no friends here?

I am the only Madame Picasso.

(Paloma crying)

(screams)

Hey! Olga!

(shouts)

Olga!

What are you doing here?

I have more right than she does.

PICASSO:
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, yeah.

(orchestral music playing
in distance)

*

(murmuring)

(laughter)

They are soldiers.

They wanted cleavage
and bare legs,

and we are giving them
men in boxes.

*

(high-pitched ringing)

My brothers!

Respect for our art
is respect for our country.

My brothers, please.

OLGA: 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
ten years ago,

everyone hated it.

Now everyone copies my style.

My body isn't a canvas.

It won't last ten years,
and now,

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

APOLLINAIRE: 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.

Ah, 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.

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.

(laughter)

She's like no woman
I have ever met.

She's refined and elegant.

Challenging.
(laughs)

Pure. She's saved herself
for marriage.

Can you imagine?

So then, you're going to, uh...?

If she'll have me, yes.

(laughs softly)

I want her to be
the mother of my children.

PICASSO:
Damn, Paulo.

What were you thinking, huh?

PAULO:
There was whiskey, Papa.

Someone brought
a few women into 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 a 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.

Mama, too.

Oh, wait.

You already have.

FRANCOISE:
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.

Y-You can't be serious.

You know, Maya doesn't know
anything about you

-or the children.
-Would you rather

she learned the truth
in some magazine?

MARIE-THERESE:
Sit up straight, Maya.

-Sorry, Maman.
-It's okay.

-(Pablito fussing)
-PAULO: I don't want to join

-in this nonsense. No.
-Okay.

Maya, would you like
to hold your sister?

Half sister. And I am not...

What a wonderful idea.

My two beauties, together.

Okay.

FRANCOISE (quietly):
Paloma, this is Maya.

(laughs)

She's so tiny.

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

(chuckling): No, and Pablito
is three weeks younger.

So Pablito is my...

nephew?

FRANCOISE:
Yes, he's uh...

He's your brother Paulo's son.

And Claude...

...is my brother, too?

Half brother.

PAULO:
Yes.

From your father's new family.

The one that took your place
after you took mine.

Give the baby back now, Maya.

(static crackles)

This is my favorite paso doble.

("Vito" by Santiago Lope plays)

(laughs)

Ven aquí, ven aquí.

(cries)

(laughs)

Your Maya is lovely.

You've done a superb job
raising her.

(Maya laughs)

And your babies are lovely.

But you'll never
replace me, Françoise.

I'm not trying to,
Marie-Thérèse.

This is for the children.

(Maya and Picasso laughing)

*

PICASSO:
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.

(engine starts)

MATISSE: Why must you make
things so difficult, Pablo?

These are supposed
to be our easy years.

Oh, well, tell that
to Françoise.

(scoffs)

My life was, uh, orderly,
e-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 am already dead.
-Ah.

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.

A-Abstraction for the sake
of abstraction.

I can't say I understand it
either, but, uh,

nobody understood
my colors at first,

or Cubism or collage.

Maybe this Pollock
sees something

that we don't, or can't.

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.

FRANCOISE:
Not now, Pablo.

The children
are coming for lunch.

Make yourself useful;
the chicken

is almost done.

Chicken?

I want to make love,

and you send me for chicken?

The world does not operate
on your schedule.

PICASSO:
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 that 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.

You know,
it-it's just 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 the 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, uh, you know,

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.

Yeah. 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?

(orchestra playing fanfare)

Every director dreams

of a command performance
for a king.

If he hates it,
I will be called a fool

and a fraud in my own country.

Well, let's hope the king
likes horses.

*

*

(music ends)

(laughs)

(all laughing)

AUDIENCE:
Picasso! Picasso! Picasso...

(sighing)

AUDIENCE:
Picasso! Picasso!

DONA MARIA:
Engaged!

Oh, how wonderful!
(laughs)

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.

DONA MARIA: Ah. Well, you won't
have to worry about that now.

Of course, carrying babies

can put 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.

DONA MARIA:
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?

*

(priest speaking Russian)

JACOB: To Monsieur
and Madame Picasso!

-Santé.
-Santé. Santé.

(clears throat)

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.

(laughter)

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?

(chuckling)

OLGA:
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.

(doorbell buzzing)

Is Monsieur Picasso at home?

Who shall I say is calling?

Geneviève Laporte.

PICASSO:
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.

Mm, so she's a student?

Not anymore.

(door opens)

PAULO:
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 works 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.

(chuckles softly)

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's 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?

(phone ringing)

(ringing continues)

Should you answer that?

Whatever it is, it can wait.

(ringing stops)

And how long do you plan
to keep me waiting?

I beg your pardon?

(gasps softly)
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.

(phone ringing)

(line ringing)

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?

(laughter)

ROSENBERG: 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.

MARGOT:
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.

-(people oohing)
-I don't need the money.

COCO:
Are you quite certain?

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

(laughter)

40,000, then. Huh?

I won't do it.

(murmuring)

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

(laughs)

(laughs)
Sold! For 50,000 francs.

(cheering)

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

May I give him a message?

JACOB:
Uh... Yes.

Yes, please, uh, tell him, uh,

that Max Jacob came by
to engage him

in a bout of debauchery.

Could you just give him this,
please? (clears throat)

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.
(chuckles)

Well, you are welcome here.

Thank you,
but I am afraid that, uh,

I have a previous engagement.

(door opens, closes)

PICASSO:
You opened my mail?

Who is Fernande?

Somebody I used to know.

She writes as if you had
a life with her.

It was a 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.

Hmm. Well,
you are a married man.

With a reputation to protect.

And it's time to choose between

your old friends
and your new wife.

(knock on door)

Pablo. Oh, come in.

For Fernande.

Uh, 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 have not 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.

Well, maybe you shouldn't.

I wouldn't want you to scuff
your expensive shoes

on the dirty cobblestones
of Montmartre.

I am not going to apologize
for my success, Max,

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

Oh, no.

No, no, you spend your days
with the marchesa

and your snob of a wife,

(laughing): 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 for you 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 suppose,
i-if I no longer have a car,

I no longer need a driver.

(chuckles)

You... you're firing me?

I have trusted you, Marcel.

You are 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.

(scoffs)

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.

JACOB:
He survived the war, and now,

he is going to be killed
by the flu.

PICASSO:
Thank you for sending for me.

I, um...

I'll give you time alone, yeah?

Pablo.

I'm sorry I didn't come sooner.

(coughing)

Well, you're here now.

(coughs)

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

Nobody could shut you up,
Guillaume.

(chuckles)

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.

(laughs softly)

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.

FRANCOISE:
That was a beautiful service.

Grandmother would have loved it.

You come back to the house.

FRANCOISE: I've 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?

MADELEINE:
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.

COCTEAU: Stand up and cheer,
ladies and gentlemen.

Diaghilev is reviving Parade.

Ah!
(laughs)

All of Paris will be talking.

And Diaghilev, he has found the
most brilliant principal dancer.

OLGA:
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.

PICASSO:
He is perfect.

His eyes, his... his mouth.

(laughs softly)

He is everything that I have
ever wanted, querida.

If he is a soldier,

he will be a general,

and if he is a priest,

he will be pope.

Isn't that right, Paulo?

You want me to be your driver?

I bought a new Mercedes.

Beautiful lines,
powerful engine.

I'm sure it's a wonderful car,
Papa, 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 you were little.

(laughs softly)

Those were wonderful times.

(laughs) Yeah.
So, it's settled then, huh?

-Okay.
-All right.

Geneviève! Let me introduce you
to my son, Paulo.

Oh, you're gonna love her.

(quietly): She has even better
lines than the Mercedes, yeah.

And she's coming with us.

Uh, here she is.

Geneviève, my son Paulo.

Paulo, Geneviève.

(inhales, clears throat)

(knocking on door)

This just came for you, sir.

Thank you.

JACOB:
"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 realize you were right.

-(church bell tolls)
-"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."

(Paulo grunts)

(Paulo fussing)

(shushing)

(crying)

(shushing)

(shushing)

(quietly): Do you know
who these wild men are, son?

They are your papa's brothers.

The kind of friends

I hope you will find
in your life, someday.

(quietly):
Pablo, what are you doing?

You mustn't touch the baby
before you washed your hands.

*

-PICASSO: Get the bags.
-(pats fender)

Françoise! Françoise!

Ah. Paulo and I went
to the bullfights

in Arles.

Take this thing, this here.

If I had known
you were so close,

I would have come
and joined you.

(whispering): 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.

FRANCOISE:
Hmm.

Is there someone new?

Who would want
an old man like me?

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

(scoffs)

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!

Paulo!

CLAUDE:
Mommy.

Yes, sweetheart, I'm coming.

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH