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Previously on Genius...

I want to do
something original.

- Unique!
- You could paint

your perfect painting, Pablo.

These paintings, they were

the best work I've ever done.

I've had my work

- destroyed before.
- And the Nazis

have labeled every bit of it
as "degenerate."

It is extraordinary, Pablo.

It's a gift, Uncle,

to thank you for everything
you've done for me.

I made a vow to God
that if he let Conchita live,

I would give up painting.

God knew I could
never keep my promise.

So to punish me...

...he took her.

The roses are exquisite, Hervé.

Thank you, Monsieur.

There are thorns.

- Be careful.
- Never.

Who is this woman, Pablo?

I am Dora Maar.

And you must be Marie-Thérèse.

I will never be bored by you.

My name is

Carles Casagemas.

What is yours?

Picasso.

Picasso and I,
we are the future.

I don't understand you,
Françoise.

I want to be a painter.

You will become a lawyer.
Do I make myself clear?

Franco and his fanatics
are winning the war.

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

- We need you on ours.
- I know you didn't want

to make a painting
for the Spanish Pavilion.

But now you must.

I am going to need

a very big canvas.

I'm getting
my family to safety.

Guernica made the Nazis
very angry.

You have children,

women you love.

Some things are
more important than art.

Not to me.

- Françoise.
- Mama?

The Germans
have crossed the border.

You must hurry.
Your father is waiting

- for us at the harbor
in Saint-Malo.

Papa!

Françoise. Madeleine.
Oh, thank God.

- Where are they all going? -The
Germans have closed the harbor.

So we could have been
in England days ago.

But no, you insisted
Françoise take

this stupid exam,
and now we're prisoners?

We are not prisoners.
We are French citizens.

Yes. With Nazi monsters!

That was Hervé,
calling from Tremblay.

German troops
have commandeered the house.

Bastards.

They think they can just take
whatever they want.

They do have guns and tanks.

And it could have been
much worse.

Maya and Marie-Thérèse
could have been there.

Get the car.

Pablo, it's 300 miles.

- Then we better get on the road.
- And what are you going

to do when we get there?

Ask the Nazis politely
to give you back your house?

- I don't care about the house.
- Then what?

We are gonna steal my art.

Put as much
as you can in the car.

The rest in Hervé's truck.

Hurry!

You
should have seen it, my love.

We were a band of gypsies
picking the Nazis clean.

What if you'd been caught?

Oh, impossible.

No, my African masks protect me

against all evil spirits.

This isn't a joke, Pablo.
They might have killed you.

But they didn't. Did they?

So you saved your paintings.

Now we should go.

Go?

Where?

To America.

It's too dangerous here.

Huh.

So...

...wh-when the fascists
were far away in Spain,

you wanted to fight them.

You... you wanted me
to paint Guernica.

And now that they are
on our doorstep,

you-you just want to run away?

Take it.

Go on.

Play that game you played

the night we first met.

Spread your fingers apart and
drive the blade between them.

Pablo, please.

Even when you missed
and drew blood,

- you didn't flinch.
- I was drunk.

You were fearless.

You do what you want,

but I am going back to Paris.

Come with me, Carles.

Show Mañach some of your work.

Nonell says he has a soft spot
for Spaniards.

Mm. Well, you be the picador...
Soften up the bull.

And when you've weakened him,
I'll come in for the kill!

I will get it.

You're onto something,
and... clearly I am not.

Oh, uh, I'm looking for Pablo.

You must be Pallarès.

- I see you've found our tailor.
- Manuel.

I'm so glad you're finally here.

Where were you?

You were supposed to meet me
at the station.

Ah. I lost track of the time.

I can see why.

Pallarès, say hello to Odette.

Enchantée.

Antoinette.

Lovely to meet you.

And Germaine.

We'll make coffee.

- Friends of Nonell's.
- Mm.

- They were here when we arrived.
- We didn't think it was polite

to ask them to leave.

No, of course not.

Since Pablo prefers Odette,

I'll have to satisfy
the other two.

But I suppose I could find it
in my heart to...

lend you Antoinette.

Is he serious?

Welcome to Paris.

What do you think?

Spanish painters are as common
as mud in Paris these days.

Very well, then.

I will find someone

who likes the common touch.

I'll take three on consignment.

See what I can do.

No promises.

I'll give you 100 francs

for all three of them.

Mm, I don't know, Berthe.

Young Spaniards are
all the rage these days.

If you had another buyer,
you would not have come to me.

Now, tell me, what is he like?

This...

Picasso?

Small.

Intense.

And exclusive to me,
in case you're wondering.

It wasn't easy.

But...

I managed to sell all three.

That's quite an achievement,

considering Spaniards are
"as common as mud."

After my expenses
and commission,

you've earned yourself
50 francs.

Or...

I could give you 150 francs
every month.

In return,

I own everything you produce.

- Everything?
- You keep the stipend

whether I sell the work or not;
the risk is entirely mine.

This is the way the art business
is conducted in Paris, Picasso.

Ask around;
it's more than fair.

Can you pay in advance?

- To Picasso!
- To Picasso!

To Picasso!

Let's dance.

I am in love with Germaine.

You're drunk.

True. But I'm
also quite serious.

I can't paint, I can't sleep.

I want to marry her.

Carles...

we are not in Spain anymore.

You don't have to marry a woman
or pay her to get her to...

I haven't.

Gotten her to...

I know, I know,
I've-I've... I've boasted, but

the studio's always so crowded.

We're-we're never alone.

There's no one
at the studio now.

I can't wait anymore.

I can't.

- Mmm.
- I...

I help you, okay?

I...

I... I-I-I-I... I-I...

I mean...

I...

I-I can't.

- Carles...
- I'm sorry.

It's so alive.

I can almost smell the smoke
and the perfume.

Didn't I tell you, Arthur?

He is one of the most exciting
young artists

working in Paris today.

How much?

Two hundred and fifty.

Arthur Huc is one
of the most influential

collectors in Paris,
and he thought

your painting could have been
a Degas or Lautrec.

You're getting noticed.

Yes.

For copying the styles
of other painters.

It's what sells,
and I need more.

Don't be so gloomy, Pablo.

You're going to be famous.

What about Casagemas?

Have you seen his watercolor
of Germaine?

- It's-it's, uh...
- Show him, Carles.

- Mm-hmm.
- I'm sure it's charming,

but I need more paintings
from you, Pablo.

Work up
some more dance hall scenes.

I see
you're an admirer of Matisse.

You think it's derivative.

Maybe my father was right.

About what?

He wants me to be a lawyer.

What's the point of that

if there's no law
in the world anymore?

Well...

I can teach you what I know.

The first thing is...

there is no shame
in being derivative

when you're starting out.

Your friend Matisse
is the best... for color.

But if you want to learn
how to draw a line,

you must study Picasso.

Sabartés,

I thought you were going

to find me some bronze
for my sculptures.

It seems the Nazis have
confiscated it all

to make their shiny bullets.

So, I suppose you couldn't
find me any cadmium red, either,

'cause they need it
to paint swastikas.

No one forced you
to stay in Paris.

I would go back to Spain if that
Fascist pig wasn't in charge.

To see Pallarés in Horta.

That was the last time
in my life

I felt truly free.

Ah.

Good evening.

Is Herr Picasso at home?

You be careful with that.

Is Herr Rosenberg staying here?

No.

Herr Goldstein, perhaps?

I told you last time.

And the time before.

Here there is only Picasso.

So then...

you did this?

No.

You did.

You know, Herr Picasso, we have
been very gracious to you,

but we could take away
everything in this room.

And everyone.

I am told your General Muller is
an admirer of mine.

Go ahead.

Take me.

You see what happens
when he finds out

you arrested the most famous
artist in the world.

Perhaps it is you
who will disappear.

Until next time, Herr Picasso.

It's lovely.

It's not as lovely as you.

- You're so silly.
- Why?

Because I'm in love with you?

Then I happily declare I am the
silliest man in all of Paris!

Don't!

I'm going
to buy you that necklace.

With what? You haven't got
a single centime to your name.

I'll sell my paintings,
the clothes off my back.

I have to go.

Germaine, Germaine,
wait, wait, wait.

I thought we were
spending the day together.

I'm meeting someone.

Who?

- Carles, you're very sweet...
- Who?

But I don't answer to you.

I'm worried about you.

When was the last time
you picked up a brush?

I can't paint. Not until
I know Germaine is mine.

Lend me some money, Pablo.

- For what?
- There is

a necklace that she admired.

- Carles.
- Please, Pablo, please.

- Carles.
- Please, Pablo.

Please.

Buy some paints instead.

Thank you.

I will pay you back. I will.

Trust me, Madame.

Picasso here is the most
exciting young painter in Paris.

A portrait by him would make you
the envy of your friends.

Can he paint me
in the style of Renoir?

Picasso can paint
in any style you want.

Renoir, Lautrec, Degas.

Very well, then.

As long
as he makes me look pretty.

I am sorry, Madame,

but I'm not nearly
talented enough to do that.

Pablo!

Pablo!

Pablo!

- Empty your pockets.
- What?!

How much do you have left
of your stipend

after feeding
and housing all of those

bloodsucking friends of yours?

I didn't come to Paris
to paint dance hall scenes

and fat cows
in the style of Renoir.

You need to eat, and to eat,

you need to paint a few cows.

Hey, save some
for the rest of us.

Hmm. Ah, behold,

the incomparable Casagemas.

- Carles...
- I bought you something.

I heard a rumor
about you, Carles, that

you put your brush down, and now
you cannot pick it up again.

Well, go ahead. Open it.

- I can't accept this, Carles.
- Why not?

Because...

I'm not in love with you.

I can change your mind.

- No, you can't. No.
- Yes. Carles.

- Yes.
- Carles, relax, have a drink.

It's the necklace you admired.

Please just let me
put it on you.

- No, Carles. No, no.
- Please. Why?

- Why not?
- Because you cannot satisfy me.

I'm sorry, Carles.

I'm sorry.

Oh.

Carles, wait.

Carles! Carles, wait!

Do you know where I can find
something a little stronger?

I'm meeting someone.

I heard
a rumor about you, Carles.

- Carles, relax.
- That you put

your brush down and now
you cannot pick it up again.

I'm not in love with you.

Because you cannot satisfy me.

Do I actually disgust you
that much?

You should have forgotten
about me, Pablo.

You need a warm bath
and a strong pot of coffee.

- That's all. -You think
that's going to fix me?

Carles.

I can't pay you what I owe.

- Forget it.
- I can't...

paint.

I-I can't satisfy
the woman I love.

What am I going to do, Pablo?

What am I going to do?

He'll be fine once he sobers up.

He can't stay here.

He won't survive it.

So cable his parents.
We will put him on a train.

Look at him, Manuel.

He can't travel by himself.

You can't leave now.

Not when you're having
so much success.

Painting portraits
of society ladies.

Imitating other artists.

So? Do something different.

- It's not that simple.
- It is!

Remember Horta?

You weren't just copying
some fancy French painters.

- Because I'd never seen any.
- Exactly.

So you were painting
what you saw and what you felt.

So go back to doing that.
Something original!

I don't know...

I don't know if I can.

So are you leaving now
to help Casagemas?

Or are you leaving
because you are afraid

that you can't paint
your perfect painting?

I need to finish packing.

At least
you'll finish something.

Tell us about Paris, Pablito.

It must have been so exciting.

A feast for the eyes, Auntie.

You were a great success,
I suppose, hmm?

I sold quite a few paintings.

How wonderful.

Look who has come, Salvador.

All the way from Paris.

Happy New Year, Uncle.

Ah.

This is my friend,
Carles Casagemas.

He's also a painter.

It's an honor, señor.

After the-the noise
and glare of Paris,

we thought a few weeks by
the sea could do us some good.

If you're going to stay
in my house,

you're going to need a haircut.

And a shave.

Of course, Uncle. Uh, but...

...after paying
for the journey...

...we're
a little short of funds.

Buy yourself
a respectable suit as well.

Charming fellow, your uncle.

To hell with him.
And the barber.

I like our hair the way it is.

So, what are we going to do
with all that money?

I have an idea.

I need you to take special care
of my friend.

He's just had his heart broken.

Whoever she is,

I'll make you forget her.

Stop.

Don't waste your time.

- Hey.
- Well?

Well, you were right, my friend.

Much more enjoyable
than a haircut.

Show your ration card!

Only one loaf today.

So, what would you like
for dinner tonight?

Maybe some cheese
and some soup?

What is it, darling?

Come. Come, cherie.

Well, that should be
enough coal to last

until the end of the week. I'm
sorry I couldn't come sooner,

but with the curfew and...

- It's all right.
- Yeah.

We've just missed you.

Haven't we, Maya?

And for you,

princesa...

...a special treat.

Pablo, she's...

She saw two dead
resistance fighters today,

hanging from ropes.

Ah.

You have a pair of scissors?

Uh, yes.

Yeah.

You did it.

Look.

Pretty, isn't she?

Oh, you should meet her friends.

Take it.

Mwah, mwah.

Eat your apple.

Oh.

Stay the night.

No, I can't.

Because you are going
to see her.

Because I must work.

The Nazis won't even let you
show your art.

I know, but, uh...

but they cannot stop me
from making it.

Good night.

Well, hello, little paloma.

Have you come to visit me?

There is fighting
in the street.

I was nearly killed
by a stray bullet.

Topics such as this
no longer matter.

You promised me.

But you know very well

I have tried everything.

You can petition the courts
again.

You are an important man.

I'm also an old man!

What would be the point
of marrying you now?

- Maya is eight years old.
She wants to know...

- ...why her papa doesn't live with us.
- I'm sorry, mademoiselle,

but he is not...

Mademoiselle, you cannot...

Why is she here?

- Get out.
- Mademoiselles,

- please.
- Why is she here, Pablo?

Dora, uh...

You know very well

that Marie-Thérèse...

is the only woman I love.

Pablo...

You heard Pablo.

You may leave now.

Pablo.

Come.

Come, I will take you home.

Come on.

I knew you would choose me.

You can go, too.

But...

Yeah, I need to be alone now.

So, you are finished with Dora.

Of course not.

And Marie-Thérèse?

I love Marie-Thérèse.

She's... kind and soft,

and she does everything
I want her to.

And I love Dora because she's...

...brilliant. Talented.

And yet you treat them
so cruelly.

I can't remember the last time

either of them made me
want to pick up a brush.

Or the last time I made
a picture worth looking at.

I need something new.

Olé! Olé!

Olé!

Ooh.

He's all right.

He's not hurt.

My father had a friend

who used to say

it was every Spanish man's
paradise.

Bullfight in the morning,

bar in the afternoon,

whorehouse at night.

Wise man, your father's friend.

Olé!

After he took me here
the first time,

- I painted.
- Olé!

All in reds and golds.

It was a terrible picture.

But my mother,

she thought
it was a masterpiece.

But you haven't painted anything

since we arrived in Málaga.

I'd rather make trouble
with you.

Hmm. 'Cause you're
trying to help me

forget about Germaine,

or because you're avoiding work?

Olé!

Olé! Olé!

Well, it's time
for you to pick up a brush.

And for me to go.

Carles...

No, you've worked a miracle,
Pablo.

I feel better
than I have in months.

You cannot go back to Paris.

No, no, don't worry.

I-I'm going back to Barcelona

to stay with my parents.

Olé! Olé!

Olé!

- You came.
- You look well.

Oh, you look beautiful.

I am sorry I embarrassed you.

- Oh, no. It... -And I really
wanted to come and meet you...

- It doesn't matter anymore.
- ...but you must know

- I am with someone else now.
- It doesn't.

So we cannot be more
than friends.

I hope you can understand that.

I am happy for you.

Truly?

We should get the circus
together.

Have dinner,

celebrate my triumphant return
to Paris.

Wonderful.

Picasso.

Is that what you're
calling yourself now?

Because you're ashamed
of your father's name?

- My name?
- Of course not, Uncle.

And you expect me

to give you money to make

- these obscene journals?
- It's not obscene.

And it's not a gift.
It-it's an investment.

Pablo.

You used to make
beautiful paintings.

And now you're what?

A caricaturist?

Don't squander your talent,
Pablo.

Alain Cuny is
the most talented actor alive,

and he just invited me
to dinner.

How did you manage that?

I waited for him backstage
after his matinee.

He thought I was very charming,

and he offered to take me
to the Catalan.

The Catalan, Françoise.

He probably just wants
to take you to bed.

I certainly hope so.

He must be 40.

- He's probably married.
- So?

He's famous and handsome.

But I can't go alone.

You must come with me.

No. There's-there's too much
to do here

- if we're going to be ready.
- Oh!

The Catalan buys oysters
on the black market.

When was the last time
you had oysters?

And champagne?

She's his mistress?

One of them.

How many does he have?

How many women has he painted?

To art!

- To art.
- And to love.

Two endeavors

at which I have failed
miserably.

Carles, don't say that.

Here, Germaine.

Please.

Would you read these for me?

Please?

The chief of police.

And your mother?

Why would you...

- One for you...
- What the hell are you doing?

And one...

- for me.
- Carles, no!

Carles!

It was horrible.

The blood.

The brains everywhere.

It is my fault.

What are you talking about?

I never should have
believed him.

I shouldn't have let him leave,
or I should've gone with him.

How were you supposed to know?

God. God punished me again.

Because I wasn't painting.

Jesus Christ.

Pablo.

Do you really believe
that God is killing people

because the great Picasso

didn't paint another one
of his masterpieces today?

Where are you going?

He's coming over.

Ah.

Do you like cherries?

Well, that's very kind,
Monsieur Picasso.

Won't you join us?

Oh, I-I'm afraid I can't.

But I would very much like
to meet

your dinner companions.

Ah, well, Françoise

is the intellectual,
and Geneviève

is the great beauty.

Doesn't she resemble
a Caravaggio?

Tell me about
the intellectual one here.

Françoise is a virtuous woman,
I'm afraid.

Ah, but not
for religious reasons.

Her objections to lovemaking

are based entirely
on Platonic ideals.

And how do they pass the time,

your Caravaggio
and your Platonic philosopher?

We're artists, actually.

Oh. Uh, you certainly don't look

like any artists
I have ever met.

Well, for your
information, Monsieur,

we're having a joint exhibition
of drawings and paintings

at a very well-respected
gallery.

Rue Boissy d'Anglas.

Well, I am...

I am also an artist.

Oh, are you really?

You must come
and visit me sometime.

To see some of my work.

You're going to paint her,
aren't you?