All language subtitles for The.Rebel.1961.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG-en

(soft music)

(upbeat music)

(soft music)

(upbeat music)

- Journey number 6,833,

832 arriving Waterloo 853

excepting bank holidays,

religious festivals,

Saturday mornings and strikes.

The same old faces every morning.

I wonder what their names are.

| see him as a George,

Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries,

12 pounds a week, thin wife, thin kids,

two weeks holiday with his sister at Hove.

Him?

He'll be an Ernest, he will.

A tomato juice drinker.

Assistant under clerk at the same firm

for forty years, and worried about his pension.

I can see him at home.

All pains and pullovers.

He'll be getting his
Rennies out in a minute.

Here they come.

Ah, poor little man.

An Arnold, he is.

Definitely an Arnold.

He's given it all up,

just going through the motions.

He's only hanging on for his gold watch.

Oh, the young hopeful, Reginald.

His first week.

He seems himself as the chief clerk

by the end of the year,

manager in three years,

on the board of directors
six months later,

Chairman by the time he's 25.

Don't you believe it, mate.

If this train is running in 1980,

you'll still be on it.

And then there's me.

A Charlie.

You're just the same as they are.

Have a look at yourself.

Go on, have a look at yourself.

Depressing, isn't it?

Same hat as them,

same coat as them,

same trousers,

same papers,

same sort ofjob.

If it wasn't for the
initials on your briefcase

you wouldn't know who you were.

It's too late for them to change.

They're in a rut.

They'll go up to heaven
on the 8.22, they will,

but you're different.

Why do you do this every day of the week,

wasting your life?

Well, its my job.

And how long have you been doing it?

14 years.

What's it all for?

What's the purpose of it all?

What are we doing it for?

Where are we going?

- Waterloo.

(soft music)

(playful music)

- Good morning, gentlemen.

(playful music)

(soft music)

- [Director] Don't you think the nose

is a little bit too large?

- No, it's just a question

of how one sees it.

The underlying feature of the

composition is based.

(chuckles)

These rubbers are very good, aren't they?

- Would you care to step into my office?

- Oh come now, sir, you're a busy man.

You don't want to bother
with the likes of me.

lt'll upset you.

- And bring your books with you.

- All of them?

- All of them, yes.

- Yes.

- Hmm, this is all your work, is it?

- Yes sir.

It's got my name on the cover, you see.

- [Director] Quite, yes.

And what's this?

- Let's see.

That's an S.

- Yes, I realise it's an S.

But what's all this business?

- It's illuminated.

| sort of thought it

adds to the charm of the whole thing.

- I'm not concerned with charm.

May I remind you this is a business house,

and not a Benedictine Monastery.

How long did this rubbish take you?

- Only two or three hours?

- Two or three hours?

And do you know how long the time

and notion study experiments allow

for the preparation of
a statement of accounts?

- Yes sir, three minutes,

45.5 seconds.

- Exactly.

- It's pretty, though, isn't it?

- Do you think Smith,
Brown, Warner and Brown

are gonna pay us more
because we sent them pretty accounts?

- Surely there's a place for art

even in a business house.

- The only art I'm concerned with

is the art of making money.

What on earth?

What's all this?

- Well,

that's Robinson.

That's Jones.

That's Perkins, very good
of Perkins, isn't it.

I've got his chin off
very well down there,

don't you think?

And this is Davidson.

And that's you.

It's a caricature.

Your nose isn't really as big as all that.

It's just that you

take the funniest feature of a man

and exaggerate it.

I mean that's

what a caricature--

- This has got to stop, you know, Hancock.

What's come over you lately?

Aren't you comfortable here?

- No that sir,

it's just that l,

I've got greatness in me.

I can feel it.

All my life is slipping by

and what have I achieved?

I can't go on ignoring
this dynamo throbbing away

inside me, don't you understand?

I'm being choked,

crushed,

bogged down in a sea of triviality.

I'm not a machine.

l'm flesh, l'm blood.

I can see, and hear, and smell,

and feel.

l'm vital, you hear?

You can't crush me in this monotonous

soul-destroying everyday routine forever.

Every man must find his own salvation,

live life as it was supposed to be lifted.

And you're choking me.

You're choking me.

- Back up.

- You're choking me.

(yelling)
(dramatic music)

Choking me.

I'm sorry sir.

I don't know what came over me.

I do hope this doesn't mean that my

five shillings a year increment

has gone up the spout.

I've been working too hard, you see.

I don't know what you must think of me.

My goodness,

I really got quite carried
away then, didn't I.

Everything goes blank, you see.

| get the red mist and I'm off.

It's very nasty.

Look, have one of your pills.

lt'll help to calm you down.

There you are.

- Heavens,

you must be ill.

I better get a doctor.

- No, I don't need a doctor.

Don't you see it's what's
inside that counts.

I gotta break away.

I gotta find myself.

Set free the raging vast

of the burning inside me.

- Don't start that
again, for heaven's sake.

Hancock,

I do hope you're not one of these

angry young men.

- No sir.

- We don't want that sort of thing

in United International.

- Quite sir.

- Why don't you join
the firm's tennis club

and sweat all this silly nonsense

out of your system.

- Yes sir.

- Oh, for artistic people like yourself,

who need some creative outlet,

there's always the
firm's Dramatic Society.

We're doing the Earlman
of the Guard this year.

- How interesting.

- Yeah, I'm sure I could fit you in

as a beef eater.

Right, now you take the
rest of the morning off,

and make up the time later.

And then you'll be ready
to start work again

this afternoon.

And in 30 years time,

when you're ready for
your silver cigarette box,

you'll realise I was right.

All right, off you go.

Go on, go on.

(soft music)

(buzzer)

(dramatic music)

(soft music)

- Evening, Ms. Crevatte.

- Mind where you're walking.

(soft orchestral music)

- Oh, you temptress,

oh you voluptuous Jezebel.

My Aphrodite.

What carnal desires did you stir

in the breasts of helpless men.

If ever a devil was born

without a pair of horns,
it was you, Jezebel.

It was you.

God, I've got a winner here, mate.

Now, I think we'll just have a couple

of chis off the old hooter, eh.

You'd like that wouldn't you?

Okay.

Let's see now, what have we got here?

That's it.

(chipping)

Don't worry, it's coming,

coming beautifully.

Now, a bit off the old
bridge of the nose there.

(chipping)

Nearly finished, my beauty.

Soon, you'll be ready
to go out into the world

and drive men mad with desire.

| created you.

I'm your master.

(laughter)

Oh dear, I nearly went off again.

I need some air.

(soft music)

I don't know though,

I think we'll risk it.

Now then.

(chipping)

Yes, good.

Yes.

A little bit more off the
old choppers, I fancy.

What do you want, gas or cocaine?

(chuckles)

We got some laughs, don't we.

All right.

Oh dear, I think she swallowed it.

Nevermind dear, we'll
have a plate put in there,

nobody'll notice.

Now then.

(chipping)

- [Mrs. Crevatte] Mr. Hancock.

Mr. Hancock.

- Hello, the barbarians
are at the gates of Rome.

- Mr. Hancock.

- [Tony] All right, I'm coming.

- [Mrs. Crevatte] Mr. Hancock.

Mr. Hancock.

- What?

- Mr. Hancock, you're hammering again.

- I know I'm hammering
again, turbaned fool.

- Don't be rude.

What are you hammering?

You know I don't allow
alterations to my property.

- I'm well aware of that.

This docile hasn't been touched

since about 1850.

You waiting for the grant

from the National Trust, aren't you

now go on, push off.

I'm busy.

- I don't want any lip.

I demand to know what you're hammering.

This is a respectable guest house.

I've got a right to know what's going on

in my own rooms.

- What I do in my room
is no concern of yours.

I pay my rent.

- Only if I sit outside your door.

What about this weeks for a start?

You let me in and pay me my rent.

- You stay here.

I'll get it.

See, nosy, there's nothing here.

- What's in there?

- Nothing, you keep out of there.

- Oh.

What's that?

- What's what?

- That.

That great ugly thing here.

- Great ugly thing?

That is Aphrodite at the water hole.

- What's he doing in here?

Get it out of my house.

- It's not doing any harm.

It's a work of art.

Look, she's beautiful.

- I will not have this hawking great lumps

to stand in my apartment.

A flaming cheek.

She's right above my bed, she is.

Supposing she fell through the floor.

- Sometimes I wish.

Look, Mrs. Crevatte.

- And how'd you get it up
here in the first place?

- I brought it up the stairs.

It's in 15 bits

held together with iron rods.

I got it from the breaker's yard.

Her head is the foundation stone

from the Dog and Duck up the road.

He left leg's a bit of
the old War Memorial.

And the rest of it is made up

of six chunks of Town Hall,

two bits of railway bridge,

and a lump of the public library.

- [Mrs. Crevatte] lts disgusting.

What is it?

- It's a nude.

- It's not nice.

It's got no clothes on.

- Well of course it
hasn't got any clothes on,

she's a nymph.

What's the point of coming
up out of a water hole

with clothes on?

Oh, you're impossible, madam.

- I've got no time for naked women

without any clothes on.

They're lewd.

- My dear good woman,

artists have been painting and sculpting

nude women since the beginning of time.

Nude modelling is a very
respectable profession these days.

- Here, have you been
having models up here?

Have there been naked
women in my establishment?

- Of course there haven't.

I can't afford 30 bob an hour.

I did that from memory.

That is women as | see them.

- Oh, you poor man.

Oh fancy knocking around
with women like that.

I wonder what you're kids will look like.

- Look, I'm not one of
the realist school of art,

I'm an impressionist.

- Well it don't impress me.

I think it's vile and purile,

and I want it out of the house,

and I want my step ladder back.

Look at it.

It's all a load of miscellaneous rubbish.

- How can you stand there and say that?

Here you are,

surrounded by a room
full of object d'arts,

knocked up over the years

through torment and self denial,

and you call it miscellaneous rubbish.

What do you know about creative arts?

- What's this horrible thing?

- That

is a self portrait?

- Who of?

- Laurel and Hardy.

Who of?

Buffoon.

- Oh, crumbs.

What's this one supposed to be?

- I call that ducks in flight.

- I've never seen beet
root coloured ducks before.

- Well, they fly a fair lick, those ducks.

They're up out of the water and away.

You just have to whack
on whatever you've got

on the brush at the time.

Hey, what's all this luck?

What's all this business for?

- I'm trying to make out what it is.

- What do you mean you're
trying to make out what it is.

Surely, it's obvious what it is

to anybody with the slightest
glimmer of imagination.

It's a--

- Yes?

- It's,

well what does it matter what it is.

It's a design in shapes and colours.

Perhaps now you can see what
I'm trying to do with my life.

Perhaps now you'll
begin to appreciate art.

- Yes.

Yes, I think I can.

Yes, I think I

just about got the hang of it now.

- Well, that's more like it.

- You take that thing over there.

- Yes?

- If that's not out of my house

by tomorrow night,

and you with it,

I'll call the police

and have you evicted.

Those are my last words.

Out, all of it.

Turning my house into a rubbish dump.

Flaming cheek.

(soft music)

- What's that horrible great thing?

A self portrait.

Who of?

Miscellaneous rubbish.

Uncultured croon.

Ah, Vince boy,

you had the same trouble, didn't you?

You went through it, didn't you mate?

They made you cut your ear off.

Why do they persecute we great men?

Because they're afraid of us, that's why.

Well they haven't seen
the last of my work.

(crashing)

Missed her.

(hissing)

(pop music)

- Yes?

- Oh, a cup of tea please dear

and 10 Olivier.

- We don't do tea, only coffee.

Espresso or cappuccino.

- All right, I'll have
a white one, no froth.

- No froth?

- I don't like froth.

- That's half the attraction.

You must have froth.

- I don't want any froth.

I want a cup of coffee.

I don't want to wash my clothes in it.

- I've never head of anybody

who didn't want froth.

- Well you have now.

One white coffee, no froth.

- Oh, somebody got out of bed
the wrong side this morning,

didn't they.

Uno cappuccino, no froth.

- No froth?

- That's right, no froth.

- Isn't that marvellous, eh.

800 quids worth of frothing machine here

and you don't want none.

I don't know what you'd come in here for

if you don't want the froth.

You can get an ordinary
cup of coffee anywhere.

(mumbling)

Ah, it's not the same now.

One cappuccino, no froth.

- There's no froth on it.

There's your bill.

I don't know.

(pop music)

(sighs)

- [Tony] Ah, what a life.

Where does an artist like me

have to go to be accepted?

There must be somewhere.

Oh dear.

Wait a minute.

Where did the others go,

Van Gogh, Renoir,

Gauguin, Rembrandt and all that mob?

Where can I go and be appreciated?

Of course,

Paris.

That's where they'll
appreciate the likes of me.

I'll go to Paris.

l'll cash my Ernie bonds.

I can wait from now till
doomsday for him to pick me out.

I know, I'll sell my statue.

They'd jump at buying her over there.

She'd go straight into
the Louvre, she would,

right next to that one with no arms.

(playful music)

- You paid your bill?

Oi, where are you going?

- To Paris, mon ami.

"Tout de suite" as they say
they say on the boulevards.

(humming)

(upbeat music)

(horns blowing)

- What's happened here then?

Where's her head?

- Head?

I don't know nothing about no head.

One piece of concrete I've got down here.

And one piece of concrete you've got.

- A piece of concrete,

that's all it means to you, isn't it?

You troglodyte.

Oh, my poor headless beauty.

Don't you mind, my dear.

When we get to France,

I'll make you another head,

three times as big as the other one.

- Okay then, haul away.

- Be careful with her.

- You don't have to worry sir.

Larry knows what he's doing.

(splashes)

- My statue, Aphrodite.

(bubbling)

You great idiot.

It took me three years to do that.

- Well, it wasn't my fault.

Accidents will happen.

- I'm holding you personally
responsible for this.

I want my money back.

- I'm sorry, sir,

it's got nothing to do with me now.

You see, it's left the shores of England.

As for now, it comes under dredging.

(dramatic music)

- Goodbye.

You nonentities have driven
away Browning, Keats,

Shelley,

Noel Coward.

You, you represent 14 years

of sheer misery.

(playful music)

And this,

I hate you and every single thing

you stand for.

l shan't need you anymore.

(playful music)

- Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you very much for your tickets.

(playful music)

Ah.

And your ticket for Paris, monsieur?

- Yes, well that's what
I wanted to explain.

You see, actually I,

I had a bowler hat.

I put the ticket in behind the pad.

And stupidly enough,

I threw it away

with the umbrella.

So I haven't actually got it now.

(upbeat music)

(horn blows)

(upbeat music)

(soft music)

(soft music)
(speaking foreign language)

- Monsieur?

- A pot of tea, please.

No, no, and a,

(speaking foreign language)

- All right, if you're going to bring

Cezanne into the argument,

you must remember Cezanne preferred

to reduce the shapes
into non-geometric forms.

Take this card players.

- Ah, he cops that from Le Nain.

- Oh, that's not quite true.

- That's not quite true.

He disagrees.

- What I mean is--

- What do you mean, my dear Paul?

You always disagree,

but you never contribute
anything constructive.

You're right, we're wrong, huh.

- I know, ljust had a feeling

about these things,

and I can't express them like you.

- Have you finished your Madonna, Jean?

- Tomorrow, I shall finish it.

My finest work.

I am recreating the sensual delight,

the lyricism of Renoir.

- Renoir?

Ewe, romantic, chocolate box stuff.

These are troubled times,

art should reflect life like a mirror.

Pick out the troubles
and sores of our times

like a search light.

I'm working on what I consider to be

the greatest triumph of my blue period.

(laughter)

You may laugh, but I am
submitting it to the Academy.

- That reactionary bunch,

you deserter.

- Well be fair,

they have their use.

They do provide standards to which--

- What do they understand
of the new dimensions

we are working in?

We are still living in the 19th Century.

- Away with them.

New dimensions, yes.

My latest work is a perfect example

of the depth one can achieve

within my unobstructed
by traditional concepts.

Pierre Brasson the art critic

tell me it was even superior to Picasso

in its conception.

And that the marriage and form and colour

almost made him weep with joy.

- Did he buy it?

- No, of course he didn't buy it.

Nobody bought Rembrandt,
Lautrec or Van Gogh.

It is the mark of true
greatness when nobody buys.

- Well, then you must all be geniuses.

You've been here three hours

and nobody's bought anything yet.

- Let us go see Ferdinand,

he should have some money.

He's got a new girlfriend, huh.

(laughter)

(soft music)

- A drink?

- Monsieur?

- It's all right, I'm English.

- Well thank you very much, mister.

- Hancock, Anthony Hancock.

- Paul Ashby.

- How do you do.

- Thank you very much.

- I'm an artist too, you know.

- Oh really?

- Where are you living?

- Nowhere yet, I've onlyjust arrived.

I thought perhaps I'd hire a studio or

perhaps rent a villa on
the outskirts of Paris

for the summer, you know,

and then winter down the Rivera.

But I thought what's the point.

- Why?

- l'm broke.

I had to get away.

l was being stifled.

I couldn't get anywhere with my art.

No one was interested.

-Ah.

Your work was misunderstood.

- No, they didn't misunderstand it.

They just came straight out,

they said it was a load of rubbish.

- I too came over here
to seek inspiration.

All artists dream of Paris.

I hope you won't be disappointed.

- No, I won't.

I shall be able to express myself here.

- Art to me is more than an expression.

It's life itself.

- Quite, quite.

- Like Van Gogh,

I want to give men and women that

something of the eternal

that the halo used to symbolise,

and which we seek to give
by the actual radiance

and vibration of our colouring.

I am seeking the volcanic turbulence

of light and colour.

- Well aren't we all.

- When I paint a chair,

l don'tjust paint what I see.

It's not the chair as it appears

that I'm interested in.

I try to get inside the chair.

I try to paint what can't be seen,

the feeling of being a chair.

- I know, that wooden feeling.

Yes, | get that quite often.

Well, you're chatting away now.

You didn't have much
to say to the last lot.

- Yes, I know.

| always get tongue tied with them.

I can't say what I feel,
it sounds so silly.

- Of course it doesn't.

I understand,

you feel like what you're painting.

That's quite reasonable.

| get quite metallic when
I'm painting a bridge.

It's a sympathy for the subject.

- No.

No, it's not quite that.

- No, no, it's not quite, no.

No, no.

Let's have some more wine, shall we.

(inaudible), can we, no,

better make it a half a bottle
of Van Ordinaire please.

(speaking foreign language)

- Tell me, did you bring any
of your paintings with you?

- No, they wouldn't let me
bring any art treasures with me.

I'll have to start
again from scratch here.

(speaking foreign language)

What's that?

Skint.

That's it.

l'll sell one of my
paintings tomorrow afternoon.

- I thought you said you
hadn't brought any with you.

- Well, no, but I'll
paint one tomorrow morning

cause I'm quick, you know,

I don't hang about.

Once I get the inspiration, I'm away.

I've had a canvas 12 foot by eight,

filled in, framed and flogged

before the first dab is dried.

- It's not like that for me.

Every brushstroke is torn out of my body.

- Well of course,

I've had my moments of agony as well.

It hasn't been all dip
it in and bang it on.

I've had my moments of doubt,

wondering if I've got anything to offer.

l've stood on Westminster Bridge

looking down into the
dark swirling waters.

I jumped once.

- What happened?

- I woke up in a barge full of wood

on my way to Southend.

- Look, you've got nowhere to live.

Why don't you come and
share my studio with me?

- Do you really mean it?

Could I?

- You'd be doing me a favour.

I can't afford the rent.

- Neither can I.

- Yes, but it's not so bad

when you know you can't
afford only half of it.

What do you say?

- All right then.

- Good.

Here's to us.

- To us.

(yelling in background)

- This is it.

My studio's up at the top.

- You sure this is gonna be all right?

- Yes, of course.

I think we better go in quietly though.

I don't want Madame Laurant to hear us.

- Who's she?

- The landlady.

I'm a little bit behind with the rent.

- Oh.

- Aha.

- Madame Laurant.

It's nice to see you.

- Where is the rent?

- Next week,

as soon as | sell one of my paintings.

- Huh.

Who is this?

- This is a friend of mine, Mr. Hancock.

(speaking foreign language).

- Madame.

And do not forget it.

- Don't worry, dear,

I'm not likely to.

- Anthony is going to
stay with me for a while.

-Ah.

He has the rent?

- No, no, I'm afraid not.

- You artists, you're all the same.

You think you can take advantage

of a poor old woman,

stay in her house all the time

and never pays a sou.

Well you cannot.

If you do not pay the rent

by the end of next week,

out you go.

- Oh, this seems vaguely familiar.

You don't happen to know
a Mrs. Crevatte of London

by any chance?

You'd like her.

You'd get long like a house on fire.

- That's Jacque and Henry.

They're great friends really,

they just can't agree about art.

- Yes, well,

a little discussion among friends

is a very healthy thing isn't it really.

(glass breaking)

(speaking foreign language)

- That's Yvette.

She's just off to work.

- What, at this time of night?

- Yes, she works at the Folies.

She models for us sometimes.

We'll be meeting her later.

- Sooner than you think, mon brave.

(soft music)

- Well do you like it?

- Ah, this is marvellous.

I can't thank you enough for this.

I can feel half a dozen works of genius

boiling up inside me.

It's the atmosphere that plays it.

It's electrifying.

And that wonderful view.

(soft music)

all right, when are we
going to start painting?

- Well, don't you think
you'd better unpack first?

- Oh yes, of course.

- You take this side of the studio,

I'll take the other side.

- Are these all your paintings?

- Yes.

Do you like them?

- Not bad.

Not bad at all.

Of course, I detect a
certain influence of—-

- Cezanne?

- Cezanne, yes.

It's more sort of pear shaped

as opposed to the oblong.

- Oh?

How do you mean?

- Well, the dynamic shading of the

concave approach to the underlying

colour

motif has a certain

translucid quality.

- Has it?

- Oh yes, yes.

Yes, I like the cryptic tendency,

and the sense of humour in this bit here.

- Sense of humour?

I can't say that I've ever notice it.

I mean it is quite obvious to me.

- No, it's just as far as l was concerned,

the them was the central
figure, the woman.

- The woman?

That's where your picture is mate, there.

- Look, if you don't mind,

I'd rather like your opinion
on some of my other stuff.

- Yes, of course.

I'd be pleased to.

Any time.

- What do you think about this?

- Confusion.

It's utter, utter confusion.

- Now wait a minute.

I've always thought this
was one of my finest pieces.

- Oh.

Well,

technically, perhaps yes.

Perhaps you're right.

But there's no objectivism
about it at all, is there?

- What do you mean?

- Well, look,

you see your colours are the wrong shape.

- I don't understand.

- Look, the colours shouldn't end

where the shapes end.

They should send out a glow in the air.

- Why?

Well take this room, for instance.

At the moment,

| feel this room to be

indigo.

Can't you feel it?

- No.

- Oh dear.

And article will always
suggest its own colour,

irrespective of the
colour it's transmitting.

To me at the moment,

I can feel this room transmitting indigo

with an underlying feeling of the

octagonal.

Yes that's it.

Indigo octagon.

Yep, that's it.

- This is incredible.

And entirely new conception of art.

- Of course to me, it's quite elementary.

- Do you apply this principle
to all your shapes and colours?

- Naturally.

- Fantastic.

No, I still don't quite grasp it.

- You will, you will.

It'll come as it came to me.

Don't worry.

Oh dear.

I'm really quite fatigued.

What a day this has been.

Oh, would you get me a shape please?

- A shape?

- Well, I can't sleep

unless I'm thinking of a shape.

See, it's for tomorrow.

I want to start painting

as early as possible tomorrow morning.

- Shape please.

- Triangle.

- A triangle, yes, that's good.

Yes.

And a colour please.

- Pink.

- A pink triangle.

I think I'll add a fish skeleton to that,

with a watch hanging on it.

Goodnight.

- [Paul] Goodnight.

(soft music)

(upbeat music)

(soft music)

(laughter)

- Well I told him.

I said I'm not of the realist school,

I said I'm an impressionist.

So I get him on Winston Churchill

and he came back from lunch

back in Notre Dame,

we had a marvellous time.

Well metaphysically, I thought
it really quite solipsistic.

Now, regarding

mixing the paints.

Now I've asked you and you
and you and you and you,

is get a big bucket,

slap it all in,

get the biggest brush you can see

and wallop it on.

(applause)

Anyways, so I said to
Dali, Salvador, I said.

(soft music)

(speaking foreign language)

Grub's up.

- Food.

I don't know how you do it.

- Ah, it's amazing how
the old English love chat

goes down with these French birds.

- How did you do today?

- Not bad.

Coughed up another three canvases.

- It is odd,

a child like quality
you get into your work.

- Well of course it's child like.

That's because I paint like a child.

Children see the truth.

The truth,

what we're all searching for.

How've you got on then?

Not bad, not bad.

It's coming along quite well.

- [Paul] Far from finished, though.

- Dear oh dear,

look what's just got back from Ascot.

- Josey, come in.

You haven't met Josey, have you.

- No, I don't think so.

No, I think I'd remember her.

How do you do, madam, I'm Anthony.

- I know.

I've been waiting to meet you for so long.

I've heard so much about you,

about your new approach to art.

The infantile school, isn't it?

- Oh yes, yes.

- Paul has shown me some of your work.

I think you're brilliant.

- Oh you're too kind.

Please, sit down.

Join us.

- Thank you.

- Josey's an existentialist.

- Oh yes, one of old Jean
Paul Sartre mob, eh.

How interesting.

- She's very keen on it.

I'm afraid it's beyond me.

It's a philosophy I can't follow.

- It's quite simple.

We believe that life is immediate.

The future does not exist.

Why kill time when you can kill yourself?

- Yes, it's a point of view.

I suppose so.

- All my friends are existentialists.

- Yeah, well, it's
company for you, isn't it.

- You'd like them.

They appreciate a great talent like yours.

The leader of our sect is
holding a party tonight

and he especially asked
me to bring you along.

What about tonight?

- Well I was going to knock
offa quick 12 by 10, but

yes, I'll come.

Yes, you're quite right.

Perhaps it'll do me good
to broaden my experience.

Why, it might even give
me some fresh inspiration.

- Of course it will.

I promise you a very
interesting evening, monsieur.

Shall we say eight o'clock?

- I shall be ready.

Well you've arrived.

I've been here six years

and I've never been specially invited,

and it's taken you six months.

(speaking foreign language)

- Cheese?

You do eat food.

(soft music)

- [Josey] Here we are.

This is it.

(soft music)

(doorbell rings)

- A rich intellectual,
that makes a change.

- [Butler] Good evening.

- Tell the master we are here.

- I say, this is very grand, isn't it.

That's interesting.

Who's gong raving mad here then?

- Oh, that's an action painting.

You know, they throw
the paint on the canvas

and then they make patterns out of it.

- Will you come in please?

(soft music)

- It's very tasteful, isn't it.

- Ah, good evening.

I was just having a nap.

- Oh, well don't let us get you up.

- No, it's quite all right.

I wasn't very comfortable anyway.

I prefer sleeping on soft wood.

Oak is so intense, don't you feel?

- Quite, quite,

especially the knotholes.

- Quite.

Ah, Josey,

my little disciple.

You have yourself some drinks.

And this must be the famous Anthony.

- How do you do, mister, eh?

- Smith, Jim Smith.

- Jim Smith?

- Ah, it surprises you.

I always think that an English name

sounds sou mysterious, don't you feel?

- Oh yes, yes I do.

Yes, I knew a Harry Trubshawe
and a Bert Higgins once.

Dead mysterious they were.

Tell me,

do you always sleep on
top of the bookcase?

- No, no, no.

It depends on what I'm doing at the time.

At the moment, I'm writing a book,

so I sleep on the bookcase.

If I'm composing music,

I sleep on the piano.

- Well that seems reasonable.

I think I might have a couple of hours

across my easel tonight.

- Why not indeed.

(cow moos)

- Ah, Ninotchka.

Very relaxing cows, yes.

I find them philosophically stimulating.

- Yes, of course.

But for conversation,

I prefer the dairy short horn.

- Ah, Ninotchka, you're
a very naughty girl.

You know you're not allowed in this room

when I've got company.

Back you go into the bedroom.

Off with you.

(cow moos)

(group chatter)

Ah, my friends.

Hi darlings, how lovely of you to come.

Marvellous to see you again.

I want you to meet that great artist,

Anthony Hancock,

you've heard so much about.

- [Man] I've admired your work.

- Oh how do you do?

Very pleased to make
your acquaintance, madam.

- I beg your pardon?

- Oh no, I beg yours.

I'm terribly sorry.

What a mistake to make.

That was a right faux pas.

I don't know what came over me.

(group chatter)

So anyway, ljust had to leave London.

I couldn't stand it any longer.

You have no idea how frustrating it is

to work with people of no imagination.

They all looked alike.

They all dressed alike.

(organ music)

Ah, music.

- It must have been very
soul destroying to him.

Imagine, everybody looking alike.

- I couldn't live like that.

- Nor me.

(dramatic music)

Try a B sharp and a C seventh diminished.

(dramatic music)

- Oh thank you very much, Anthony.

- Brown river,

deep fish walk by.

Turtles play on sand of glass.

She is near.

I feel her ghost.

Her hair of sheen across her back.

Where am I?

I am near.

- Washing my feet in a glass of beer.

- Oh.

Thank you.

That's just what it needed.

Washing my feet in a glass of beer.

Oh, thank you.

- The man's a genius.

A fantastic mind.

- He's a great success, isn't he.

- Yes, he certainly is.

Nobody's ever listened to me like that.

My ideas are rather dull, aren't they?

- But Paul, you can paint.

- So do thousands of us.

- You're jealous of him.

- No, no I admire him tremendously.

Trying to get at something different.

It's extraordinary.

In a way, it's fundamental.

And sometimes it makes me
want to give everything up.

- Anyway this bloke I knew,

Pundit Mehatma were his name,

where you probably know him.

He was one of your mob.

He did all this stuff.

He was a black belt, I believe.

You comfortable?

I'd get you a drink,

but I thought you might
pour it up your nose.

Anyway as l was saying,

it was this Pundit Mehatma,

a famous yoghourt he was,

great friend of the family.

One day to prove mind over matter,

he was wrapped up in a sheet,

chained up so that he
couldn't possibly move,

which was lowered into
a hole 12 foot deep.

The hole was filled in by experts,

and a 125 tonne rock placed on top of it.

He had no food,

no water,

and no air.

And he stayed like that for six weeks.

And when they finally dug him out,

to everybody's amazement,

he was stone dead.

Of course there were some sceptics

who were saying it was a trick

and he was dead when
they put him down there.

Anyway, it still stand as a record today.

What do you think of that?

Oh, he's asleep.

- I'm leaving.

You coming home?

- No.

No, I think I'll stay here.

- I see.

All right, then, Anthony can take you home

if he can manage to get away from them.

(upbeat music)

- What are you trying to
express in your paintings?

- Ah yes indeed.

What does one try to express.

I want to paint men and women

the halos to symbolise,

in which we try to give

to the actual radiance of the
vibration of our colouring.

- Amazing.

- Quite incredible.

- You see, when I paint a chair,

it isn't a chair I see.

It's not the appearance of
the chair that I care about.

I try to get inside the chair

and paint what cannot actually be seen,

the actual feeling of being the chair.

- Fascinating.

That's just what Paul Ashby told me once.

- I'm surprised,

Paul picks up quite a lot
from our friend here nowadays.

- Well I must say, I never
heard such a brilliant analysis

of contemporary art in my life.

- Anytime, anytime.

- I think perhaps we better go now.

Our host has gone to bed.

- You simply must come
to my party next week.

- Thank you very much.

- And mine too.

- Charmed.

Charmed.

- Goodnight.

- Oh no, he's not on the bookcase.

He's in there.

- Oh.

Cheero, we're off now.

Thanks very much.

Delightful party.

You must come around
to our place next time.

I'll get a baker's oven
and put it in the wall.

Get you in and our on the long shovel.

You'll be all right.

Cheero.

Oh yes.

I like that very much.

I must have a go at one of those.

(ticking)

(ringing)

Bonjour, Ermyntrude, ca va ?

Come on my old dear.

Breakfast is ready, over this way.

That's a girl.

Come on, come on.

Come on, come on, that's the stuff.

Over here, that's it.

There we are.

Now then,

you'll have to keep back a bit.

I've got a big day today.

I need as much space
as I can possibly get.

Oh, you're gonna enjoy this.

Hang on a minute.

(singing)

That's it.

Now then,

you want to watch this Ermyntrude.

This is what is known in the trade

as an action painting.

All right.

(playful music)

So much for the undercoat.

(orchestral music)

Whatcha been doing man?

I've bene doing action painting man.

Yeah.

Every footmark was toned from my body.

Yeah.

(soft music)

And a bit down there, right.

(soft music)

Left and up.

(soft music)

(cow moos)

(soft music)

(dramatic music)

Hey toro,

toro.

(dramatic music)

Finished.

Marvellous.

Aphrodite at the Water Hole,

on the horizontal.

It's worth 2,000 quid of
anybody's money that is.

(dog barking)

Hello, you were out early.

Drink?

- [Paul] No thank you.

- [Tony] What are you doing?

- Oh, I'm leaving.

- Leaving?

Where are you going?

- Home,

back to England.

- Well hang on, why?

What for?

- I'm giving up painting.

- Giving up painting?

You must be mad.

- No, I've been thinking
about it for weeks.

I've made up my mind.

- But Paul,

you can't give up painting.

I mean you're quite good.

- Nobody's interested
in my type of painting.

It's got nothing to say.

Just look at this.

Look at it.

Fit for the top of a biscuit tin.

But yours, its new and it's different.

- Oh yes, of course.

- You were right, you know,

the first time you saw my work.

You said it was immature
and utter confusion.

- But what are you gonna do?

- I don't know yet.

I'll find something.

Don't worry about it.

I never really did like
the life, you know.

I'm much better off out of it.

- But what are you gonna
do with all your pictures?

- Those?

They're yours now.

You can do what you like with them.

You can burn them.

You can paint over them,

save you buying fresh canvases.

You can sell them if you're lucky.

I don't care what you do with them.

- But if you go to London,

where are you gonna stay?

- Oh I don't know yet.

I thought I might stay with
that woman you mentioned,

Mrs.,

Mrs. Crevatte.

- Oh, you can't go there.

- What's the matter, anywhere.

- Mrs. Crevatte, look what she did to me.

- Goodbye, Anthony.

- Oh.

- Goodbye.

- Oh, this is ridiculous.

You come in here like
a boat out of the blue.

You pack your bag in two
minutes and you're off.

- It's the only way.

Goodbye.

- Look, I did an actin
painting this morning.

You'd like to see it, it's drying out--

(soft music)

he's gone.

My best friend.

And to Mrs. Crevatte's of all places.

Such a nice bloke as well.

Of course I blame myself, you know.

I should have devoted more time to him.

It isn't everybody who has a

great talent like me.

Well, it'sjust you and I now, Ermyntrude.

Let's have a look at this

and see where he went wrong.

(soft music)

See, it's just not there, is it.

What a shame.

(orchestral music)

- Road hog!

(inaudible) can't you read.

I'm going back to the studio.

It's not safe here.

(upbeat music)

- Hello, Duvalle.

- Good morning, sir Charles.

- Is that it over there?

- Yes.

- Oh yes.

Uh huh.

Well.

Delightful.

Now then,

what was the price we agreed upon?

- One million nouveaux francs, monsieur.

- One million.

- Are you taking it for
your private collection?

No.

This is for a client of mine in America,

a cattle baron.

He desperately wants something

to hang over his indoor barbecue.

By the way, do you know anything about

a painter called Anthony Hancock?

Have you seen any of his work?

- Oh yes.

I haven't seen any of it.

I've heard he's very good.

But then how many times have we heard that

about some obscure artist.

They come and they go.

- Yes.

- I'll stick to my old masters.

- Even so, I think it might
be worthwhile looking into.

I'm going to find out
what I can about him.

Goodbye.

- Good day, sir Charles.

(orchestral music)

(knocking on door)

- Not today, thank you.

- Mr. Hancock?

- Yes.

- My card.

- Sir Charles Brouard.

Not the art critic?

- Yes.

- Oh, very nice.

Have a cup of tea.

- No thank you.

- I'll come straight to the point.

I'm always looking for
interesting new artists.

And your name was brought to my attention.

I wonder if you'd be so kind

as to let me see some of your work.

- Some of mine?

Not to sell them.

- Sell it?

My dear boy,

if I like your paintings,

you're made.

You've got nothing more to worry about.

- Why this is marvellous.

My dear Charles,

what you must think of my manners.

Please, have a seat.

Well, I'll just go and get
some of my best stuff out

for you to see.

Have a cigarette.

- Oh, thank you.

- Yes, you'll find the machine in the fag,

papers on the side board.

- Oh.

Well, in that case, I
don't think I'll bother.

- Oh, all right.

Don't go anywhere, hang on.

I'll get you.

- What a beautiful piece of work.

- Yes, it's not bad.

That's not one of my best, of course.

- But this is quite exceptional.

- Oh, well we all have our moments.

Of course, I made a
specialty of painting birds.

- So it seems.

I particularly like the
texture of the hair.

- Yes, I rather like the hair.

Those are feathers.

I don't paint hairy birds.

What are you looking at?

- This one.

It's superb.

Such colour.

Such feeling.

Such strong design.

Such Chiaroscuro.

- Yes, yes, yes.

Look, just a minute--

- That one is magnificent.

- Yeah, but I must--

- I had no idea that I was going to find

anything like this.

I tell you, I haven't
seen anything like this

for years.

Are they all yours?

- Well, yes they are mine.

- Well then you are to be congratulated.

- Well, actually when I say they're mine,

they were a gift, you see.

- Well, of course,

a talent as rare as this has to be a gift.

- No, I don't think you're quite really.

They are mine so far as they belong to me.

- They don't belong to you.

The belong to the world.

- Oh, come and have a
look at these over there.

You aught to see them.

You'll like them.

- [Brouard] Fabulous.

- Nevermind about those.

This is where the quality is here.

What about that then?

(chuckles)

- Well, who painted that?

The cow?

- I beg your pardon?

- Well, it's rubbish.

- You're joking of course.

- Sheer, unadulterated,
amateurish rubbish.

- Oh rubbish, eh?

- Well then,

what about that one there?

- It's terrible.

It's just a daub, obviously
the work of another painter.

- Well yes, actually it is.

- Inferior in every respect.

- You must be drunk sir.

That stuff over there
is a different school

you're probably not familiar with.

That's the shapeist school,

all the colours are different shapes.

- My dear fellow,

I admire your loyalty to the idiot

who perpetrated those atrocities.

But take it from me,

the man who painted those hideous daubs

has no talent for art whatsoever.

He mightjust as well give it up

and get himself a job in an office.

But you, my friend,

you have a glorious future.

You have great talent.

The whole of Europe will be at your feet.

- But you must let me
try to explain to you

how these paintings came to me.

- Oh, you don't have to tell me.

It stands out in every brush mark.

Inspiration comes to the painter

through torture, every stroke is torn

from the body.

- Yes, well that's true.

But please let me tell you--

- Enough.

We have work to do.

Ii must arrange an
exhibition of your painting

immediately.

Now, how many have you here?

- Well, there's about 25 of those,

and about 50 of those over there.

- Oh, well you can burn those.

We don't need them.

- Now I take it your short of cash.

- Look, you really don't understand.

I've been trying to explain to you

about those, yes, I am, I'm broke.

I'm flat broke.

- Well shall we say a thousand pounds

as an advance against your first sale?

- A thousand pounds?

- Well 1,500 pounds then.

-15.

Oh, well you can't fight fate, can you.

- There we are.

Now I must go make the arrangements.

I noticed that you haven't
signed any of those paintings.

- Well--

- I know.

I know.

You want the brilliance of
the paintings themselves

to be their own signature.

- Excellent, boy, excellent.

Well, I must be off.

- Let me explain.

- Au revoir.

- Well don't look at me like that.

It's not my fault.

He just talked me into it, that's all.

I'll see Paul's all right.

Don't you worry.

It's just that my work is
so far ahead of it's time.

Well, they'll soon get used to it

and then I can gradually
start sliding the others in.

I'll see you're all right.

You stay with me.

I'll buy half a tonne of
cattle cake and a field.

All right, then a tonne of cattle cake.

Oh, you and your ethics.

Hasn't got you anywhere is it.

A great brown lump.

In any case, they're not
really Paul's paintings.

They don't belong to you,

they belong to the world.

(upbeat music)

(group chatter)

- Good afternoon sir,

this is indeed an honour.

- There's Dubois.

Shall we join him?

- Bring him here.

- Oh, all right.

(group chatter)

- Good afternoon, monsieur.

- How's the exhibition going, Dubois?

- Never have I known such
a phenomenal success.

I could have sold each
one a hundred times.

- Well we won't start selling to London.

By then the prices should be astronomical.

- Well, Anthony,

what did I tell you.

You're a sensation.

- Naturally.

- ls monsieur satisfied
with the arrangement?

- No, monsieur's not satisfied
with the arrangements.

The lighting is atrocious.

I've seen better layouts
coming up the escalator

at Piccadilly tube station.

- Monsieur, I've been
supervising exhibitions like this

for the past 30 years.

- In that case, I suggest
you turn it in, my good man.

Shall we mingle.

(group chatter)

Ladies and gentlemen,

this is a perfect example

of the new shapeist school of art.

You see all the colours
are different shapes.

Some people call it--

- What are you trying to do?

(chuckles)

may I draw your attention
to the landscapes.

You'll find them on the
other side of the gallery,

thank you.

I told you to burn that rubbish.

You've got your own career to think about.

Stop trying to make a
name for other people.

Now, come and meet the
gentlemen of the press.

(group chatter)

- Good afternoon, gentlemen.

(group chatter)

- [Reporter] May we have
some photographs, monsieur?

- By all means.

- [Reporter] Smile please.

- [Reporter] This way, monsieur, please.

- [Reporter] Down here, monsieur.

- [Reporter] Come
fon/vards, monsieur, please.

- [Reporter] Big smile, monsieur.

(inaudible)

- [Reporter] Cigarette, please.

The aristocratic, monsieur.

- Head higher, monsieur.

- [Reporter] With cigarette, monsieur.

- May we ask some questions, monsieur?

- Anything my dear chap, anything.

- Where did you first study art?

- I did not study art.

I studied life.

- Do you prefer a bruh or a pallet knife?

- It depends on whether I'm painting

or eating an apple.

- And how do you mix your paint?

- In a bucket with a big stick.

(laughter)

What are they laughing at?

(laughter)

(upbeat music)

- Evening sir.

(applause)

- Evening, Charles.

- Oh, hello Anthony.

- Sorry I'm late.

- I waited two hours.

- Yes, nevermind.

(soft music)

- Would monsieur order now?

- Well hang on, I'm only
halfway through the soups.

Egg and chips, please.

- Does the menu appeal to you sir?

May I recommend

escargot?

- Escargot?

- They're snails.

- Oh, yes, snails, egg and chips.

- Snails, eggs and chips.

- And

a cup of tea.

- And a cup of tea.

- You know, Anthony,

I wanted to discuss our plans.

The exhibition has been
and even greater success

than I expected.

And I think it's about time

we started selling a few paintings.

- Yes, quite, quite.

- Tomorrow, we leave for the Riviera.

We'll go to Monte.

- Dear old Monte.

One of the finest generals we ever had.

I didn't know he was an art lover.

- No, l was referring to Monte Carlo.

- Oh, the seaside.

- Yes, I'm going to introduce you

to Mr. Carreras, the shipping millionaire.

We'll be dining with him on his yacht.

He'll pay handsomely for your work.

Coincidentally,

we'll surely going to be
needing more paintings.

- More paintings?

- But of course, we'll
soon sell the ones we have,

and then what are we going
to exhibit in London.

- What indeed.

Well, I mean we got plenty of these.

I mean we could flog these and retire.

- We'll you're joking, of course.

You can't possibly retire.

You've got to much to offer.

Besides the world of art
needs your influence.

We must have more paintings for London.

- Yes, well I, I, you know.

- You have done some more, haven't you.

You haven't remained idle
since the exhibition.

- Oh, no, no, I've done some more.

I haven't stopped.

I've been brushing away like mad.

- Then why haven't you shown me any?

- I knew you'd be so busy, you know,

I didn't want to bother you.

- Bother me?

Don't you realise the delight it gives me

to see a beautiful painting.

- Yes, well, I, I,

ah the food.

- Well, I must be off.

I'll call for you in the morning.

- Goodnight, Charles.

- Snails.

Eggs and chips.

And tea.

- Does one eat the horns or not?

(orchestral music)

So anyway, I was just
finishing this painting.

Used to advertise in a sweet shop window

in Hammersmith,

beautiful she was.

Built like a cart horse.

(laughter)

Anyway, I was painting four nymphs

having a bath at the time.

- And that would be your romantic period.

Of course.

- Oh, well of course.

I had my moments,

but I didn't get very far with her.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, yes, of course.

One day she was posing with
this waterjug, you know.

Oh, lovely thing to see.

13 and a half stone of sheer poetry.

And then all of a sudden,

the door was flung open
and her husband rushed in.

So, he says,

this is what you get up to
when I'm going around London

in my bus, is it?

Well, she screamed and dropped the jug.

And he lunged at me with his ticket rack.

I tried to fight him off

with my paint brush,

but it was no good.

He gave me a cut round with his money bag,

and chased her down the high streets,

all wrapped up in my curtains.

I never did finish that picture.

And you can see it to this day,

hanging in the public gallery.

Three and a half nymphs

having a bath.

- Fascinating, Mr. Hancock.

Fascinating.

You must have painted many
beautiful women in your time.

- Yes, yes, hundreds of them,

falling over themselves, they were.

I immortalised them with my brush.

- And

you have never fallen in
love with any of them.

- Every single one of them.

Take Carmelita, for example,

what a beautiful girl.

Daughter of a Spanish Grandi.

I met her throwing stones
at the British Embassy

in Madrid.

When I painted her,

all she was wearing
was a rose in her hair.

I well remember, as I was saying to you

the other day Charles--

- Anthony is an incurable romantic.

- Yes, yes, never stop.

- Oh, how interesting.

- My wife is very interested in art,

aren't you my dear.

- I'm more interested in the artist.

I find them very stimulating.

- I don't mind as long as they
don't find her stimulating.

You understand?

She's very beautiful, don't you think?

- Oh yes, yes, indubitably.

Yes, a little darling, a cracker.

- You're embarrassed Monsieur. Hancock,

and you are making me
seem rather conceited.

- But you are very beautiful, my dear.

And I'm sure Monsieur Hancock

would like nothing better

than to paint you.

- That is for Monsieur Hancock to decide.

(soft music)

- How long are you planning
to stay on the Rivera?

- Oh, not very long.

I've got work to do, you know.

- Oh, why can't you work here,

there are plenty of subjects for you.

You could paint the yacht.

- Paint the yacht?

I thought the crew did that.

Oh, oh, you mean paint the likeness of it.

No, I'm not really good at yachts.

Actually, I'd better get
back to your husband.

- Don't worry about my husband.

He's discussing business, no doubt.

(soft music)

- Good evening.

(soft music)

- It's wonderful.

You excite me,

do you know that?

- Who, me?

- It's such a change to
have a young man in my arms.

- l've aged about five years

in the last 10 minutes.

Do you mind if we sit down?

My dogs are barking.

My feet are hurting.

I'm not used to these shoes.

I'm used to having my toes poking out.

We can't dance when the
music stops, can we.

(applause)

- Oh, do you cha cha cha?

- Well, yes, a bit.

(upbeat music)

Hang on.

It's no good.

This dance is not good
for a man of my build.

I'm a Charleston man, really.

Let's go sit down.

- Here you are Margot.

Did you enjoy dancing with my wife?

She's a beautiful dancer, isn't she?

- Oh yes, indeed.

- ljust agreed with Sir Charles here

to buy some of our young
friend's paintings.

- Oh, why that's marvellous.

- Also included in the deal,

you'll be glad to hear, Anthony,

is a commission from Mr. Carreras

for a portrait of his wife.

- A portrait by me?

- You can work on the yacht here.

You can take your time.

You won't be disturbed.

- I shall look forward to it.

- I can't do it, you see,

I've run out of paint.

(laughter)

- We'll buy some more for you.

- But all my brushes are worn down.

- I'll buy you a thousand brushes.

- I haven't got any turps.

- We'll have a barrel
delivered in the morning.

Anything you want.

- Perhaps Mr. Hancock

prefers not to paint me.

Perhaps he has something else in mind.

(soft music)

A sculpture, for instance.

(upbeat music)

- Oh, you don't want a sculpture.

- You want a sculpture?

- Oh.

- A sculpture it is.

With my wife's beauty and your talent,

oh, that's a wonderful idea.

- Marvellous.

- Oh, my snooky boots.

You're a darling.

- Can't we flog some of the paintings

and get back to Paris.

I can't stay here.

She fancies me.

- How extraordinary.

Well anyway, you must do
what Mr. Carreras says.

It'll set the scene on your success.

Then after that, London.

- Oh yes, London.

- The world is yours, my boy.

- I only hope I stay in it
long enough to enjoy it.

- Anthony.

- Hello, here we go.

Left hand down.

(soft music)

(scraping)

I'm ready.

Shall we begin?

- Begin what?

- The statue.

(clicks tongue)

- Of course,

thank goodness for that.

Well, now,

just sort yourself out somewhere.

Make yourself comfortable.

- Is it likely to take a long time?

- Not if it's got anything to do with me.

- Let's get it over as soon as possible,

and we'll have more time for,

you know.

(hammering)

Oh, you are not looking at me.

- I don't need to.

Every line is seared across my memory.

In any case,

I like to work in private.

We artists are very
temperamental, you know.

- Yes, yes.

I understand.

- Hmm.

(hammering)

Oh.

Oh no.

- What a pity.

Did you hurt yourself?

- Of course I hurt myself.

And it's my sizing up thumb.

- Oh, well you can't carry on like that.

- No, no I'm all right.

I'm left handed as well.

Stay over there.

- Oh, you poor thing.

You have to stop.

No, no, stay over there.

Get back.

Back, is say.

- Yes, Anthony.

- Back woman, back.

Back on your pinth.

Get back.

(hammering)

Oh no.

Oh no, not again.

(soft music)

(hammering)

Madam, for the last time,

can we have a little more toga

and a little less leg.

I'm very good on folds.

- But my legs are my best feature.

- And folds are mine.

Hide them.

(hammering)

- A very talented young man, isn't he.

Ah, good morning.

Good morning.

No, don't go, I'm talking about you.

Tell me, how about the sculpture.

- How, well,

it's going on very well.

I finished it, as a matter of fact.

I think you'll like it.

It brings out the primitive in her.

- What do you know of
the primitive in my wife?

- Oh, nothing.

I'm,

I'm talking purely
artistically, of course.

These decorations are good.

Aren't they good, right.

What's going on then?

- Oh, didn't you know.

Carnevale tonight.

The whole town is celebrating.

We shall unveil your sculpture

during the celebration.

- Yes, I feel I can't be
present at the unveiling.

I have to go ahead to London

to make the final arrangements

for Anthony's exhibition.

You'll join me tomorrow.

- Like a shot.

- You'll be pleased to
hear that I've made a deal

with Mr. Carreras for your paintings.

- Oh, how many?

- All of them.

- 50,000 pounds.

- Did you say all the paintings?

- Yes.
- Yes.

- Well what about the London exhibition?

- Oh, that's no problem.

We shall present to the London public

a complete new exhibition of Hancock.

We will show them your new paintings.

- What new paintings?

- The ones you've been doing since we met.

The ones you've been hiding from me.

- Oh those.

Yes.

Yes, yes.

- Anything wrong?

- No, no, but look,

don't you think we ought to you know,

we really ought to show them

to our own fellow countrymen first.

And before you sell them,

I mean,

fair is fair.

Why don't you sell them
half of them back again?

- Oh, I won't hear of it.

- Think of the publicity.

Your first London exhibition,

tomorrow,

paintings never before
seen anywhere in the world.

What an attraction.

- No, no, no, no, wait a minute, no.

You can't do it.

I mean it's too late.

We haven't got time.

They're all in Paris

in my studio.

l locked them all up in a crate.

I had the crate packed and sent to London.

- You did what?

How dare you interfere
with my personal belongings

without my permission.

- But my dear boy,

I'm your agent.

That's what I'm for,

to take the troubles off your shoulders.

You concentrate on painting

and I'll attend to business.

Now, I'll see you tomorrow.

I've booked a lovely suite for you Savoy.

Just call me up as soon as you get in.

Relax.

Au revoir.

(birds chirping)

- See you tonight

at the unveiling.

- If only I could swim.

(upbeat music)

(bird chirping)

- Anthony?

(bird chirping)

Are you respectable?

- Yes I am, no thanks to you.

What do you want now?

- It's very important.

I must speak to you.

- What do you want?

- You.

You are leaving us.

You are going to London.

- Yes.

- Take me with you, please.

- Unhand me woman.

Remember you are someone else's wife.

And I am British.

- Anthony, my dear.

My love.

Anthony, I love you.

- Careful, you're crushing my feathers.

- Oh, these last few weeks

have been the happiest of my life.

Don't let it end now, I beg of you.

Please, please.

Let us go away together.

I'm so tired of this life.

I want to be with you always.

Take me with you.

- How can I take you with me?

There's only one seat on the plane.

The safety belt will never
go around both of us.

Use your head.

- But I want you.

Don't you understand that?

I want you.

- Well hard luck.

- If we can't be together,

we'll kill ourselves.

- Oh, now you're being ridiculous.

A young lad like me

cut off in his prime.

Why, it's sheer waste.

- But don't you see,

it will be a perfect ending

to a tragic love affair.

- I am not laying a finger on myself.

-Is it

because there is someone else?

- Yes, yes, that's it, yes.

There's somebody else.

- Oh.

- Yes, there's a woman in
London I'm promised to,

a Mrs. Crevatte.

She's been waiting for me for years.

I can't let her down now,

the poor old devil.

- Anthony.

- No.

I'm sorry it cannot be.

The sculpture is finished.

The fraternisation is at an end.

- Oh, I have cheapened
myself in front of you.

Very well,

if I can't have you,

no one will.

- What do you mean?

(muffled music)

Is that loaded?

- It is.

Two bullets.

One for you,

and one for me.

- You can have mine as well.

I'm not particular.

- Stay there.

No man has ever treated me like this.

l have made myself a laughing stock

in front of you.

- I'm not laughing.

Who's laughing.

(nervously chuckles)

Nobody will know.

I won't breathe a word.

It'll be our secret.

You don't want to shoot me.

Just forget about me.

Look, there's lots of

big lads jumping up and down on the beach

right up your street.

You don't want me.

Look how stout I am.

- You won't break

any other woman's

head.

- Don't, don't.

(gun shots firing)

(upbeat music)

- Oh, no.

Open the door.

(upbeat music)

- Ah, here's our artist.

- Oh, it's you.

Oh well.

- No, no, no, don't go away.

Don't be shy.

We are just going to
unveil your sculpture.

I hope you do me the honour

of pulling the cord.

- Pulling the cord.

- Yes.

- Come, come.

Ladies and gentlemen,

may I have your attention, please.

I want to introduce a
brilliant young artist,

Anthony Hancock,

who as you know,

has just completed

a sculpture of my beautiful wife, Margot.

I shall now ask the artist himself

to reveal his work.

(applause)

(dramatic music)

- Cor, blimey.

(laughter)

- How dare you.

Is this some joke?

- Don't you like it?

- Is this supposed to be my wife?

- Well, yes.

It's your wife as I see her.

- Here is the brute.

- What is the matter with you?

- Oh, he assaulted me.

- I assaulted you?

- Oh, he jumped at me.

He kicked me.

- You swindle me

- Yes, well, I must be off now.

I've got a plane to catch.

(crashing)

(dramatic music)

- Get him.

- Kill him.

(dramatic music)

- I want to fly to London.

- It's a long way to London, monsieur.

You'd better wait for a plane.

(laughter)

- Oh look, oblige me.

Fancy seeing Mr. Hancock in the papers.

And his photograph as well.

Hasn't he got a nice smile?

- Did you say Hancock?

Can I see that please?

- Just a minute.

I'm reading it.

Do you mind?

- I knew him, you see.

- Well I knew him too.

He stayed here, don't forget.

Oh, he was a lovely boy.

I always knew he'd get on.

He was a beautiful painter.

And so nice.

Most friendly.

You never knew when he was gonna drop in.

Here, he always used
to say I inspired him.

Of course we know he would
have never got where he was

if he hadn't been for me.

I always encouraged him.

Oh, and now he's rich and famous.

- He's been recognised at last.

It's marvellous.

I knew he'd do it.

Mrs. Crevatte, do you realise

that you're gonna be famous?

Anthony Hancock lived here.

- No.

Should I have a plaque on my wall?

- I must go and see him.

- Don't be silly.

Look at the time.

You'll be late for the office.

Here's your sandwich,

cheese and tomato.

- Yes, office.

I'll go and see him in my lunch hour.

(knocking on door)

- My god, it's him.

- Anthony.

- Mr. Hancock, fancy
you're coming this way.

- We've just been reading
about you in the newspaper.

- You shouldn't of.

- You've really done it, haven't you.

- Didn't I tell you he was a lovely boy.

- Now please, Mrs. Crevatte,

do me a favour,

just leave us alone.

I want to talk with Mr. Ashby alone.

- All righty ho, then I'll
go make nice cup of tea.

Then when you've had your
little convo with Mr. Ashby,

I shall be in the kitchen, all right.

- Congratulations.

I told you you'd do it.

- Look, we haven't got much time.

Have you done any paintings
since you came back from Paris?

- Only as a hobby.

I've got a job at an office.

What about you?

- Look, how many pictures have you got?

- Oh, I don't know, 12, 15?

Why?

- Well you got to get them
down to the Crichton Gallery

in Bond Street immediately.

- Crichton Gallery?

Who's interested in my stuff?

- Look, I haven't got time to explain.

Just do what I say.

- Look, I can't.

I'll be late for the office.

- Nevermind about the office,

you're gonna be famous.

I'll personally guarantee it.

- I don't understand.

- Don't argue, go upstairs
and pack up the paintings

and hurry.

(soft music)

- You want a bit of cake?

(soft music)

- Oh, what a magnificent site.

A million quids worth

of multicoloured canvases.

l marvelled at my time, you see.

Look at this.

Just casting pearls before swine.

No one will appreciate that.

- Who are you?

Mr. Charles Brouard arrived yet?

- No, and quite frankly,
I don't blame him.

- Yes, well be that as it may,

there's been a complete change of plan.

I want you to take all
that stuff over there down,

and I want you to put all
this stuff over here up.

- Well I, I don't know
what you've got in there,

Harry.

- I'll deal with you later.

- Look, surely you don't
really want to put up my pictures.

- Don't argue.

Do as you're told and get it up.

- Well it's really good of you.

- Don't mention it.

(group chatter)

- Where have you been?

I've been waiting all morning for you

at your hotel.

You promised to call me
as soon as you arrived.

- Don't worry.

Everything's all right.

Now calm down.

You'll only upset yourself.

Everything's under control.

The pictures are going up now.

- I must see them.

- No, no, no, you can't.

Not now, we're too busy.

You'll only get in the way.

- Tell me, your new work,

good,yes?

- Yes, marvellous, marvellous,

just as it was before.

- I can't wait to see it.

- No, you can't go in there now.

Look, they're all getting ready.

Just have a chat with them.

Apologise for the delay.

They've already had
about 14 cocktails each.

We'll have a drink crazy mob
on our hands in a minute.

- Ladies and gentlemen,

may I have your attention please.

The Crichton Gallery have great pleasure

in welcoming you

to the first London showing

of the works of Anthony Hancock.

(applause)

I think that I can honestly say

without fear of contradiction,

that knowing the profound
emotional experience

we have in store for you,

it would be grossly
unfair to keep you waiting

any longer.

And I therefore declare
the exhibition open.

(applause)

(soft music)

(dramatic music)

- Well what do you think of them?

- What have you done?

Where's all your stuff?

- This is my stuff.

- But were are all the
nudes and the windows

and all that lot?

- Oh, I'm not painting
any more of that rubbish.

I'm experimenting with
your approach to art.

- Oh no.

- Well I know I'm not as good as you are,

but I am getting better.

- But why didn't you tell me

you changed your style?

- You didn't ask me.

Is anything wrong?

- Oh no, it's just a bloke
wondering around here somewhere

who will have great delight

in shoving have a yard of rolled umbrella

down my throat, that's all.

Hello, here we go.

(dramatic music)

Now look, I can explain.

- My dear, Anthony, you've done it again.

What a magnificent genius.

I mean

a complete change of style,

but still all superb.

Why didn't you tell me?

- You mean to say you like them?

- Like them?

They're masterpieces.

How do you do it?

- Oh, this is ridiculous.

- What do you mean?

- Well stone me,

I've been painting scenes
like this for years.

Just like my dancing flight

around the Eiffel tower.

What's the difference?

And this one over here,

that could easily be one of mine.

- But these are yours.

- No, they're not.

The stuff you call rubbish,

those are mine.

- You painted those?

- Yes, I did, and proud of it.

You don't know yourjob,
that's your trouble.

- But I don't understand.

How could you produce
wonderful paintings like these

an the ones we sold in France,

and still admit to all that other rubbish.

- [Tony] Don't call my stuff rubbish.

- Excuse me.

- Now Paul, will you
please keep out of this.

- I'm still rather confused.

- Very well then.

I will elucidate.

There are three lots of paintings, right.

- [Brouard] Yes.

- Stuff we sold in France.

This lot here.

And the other stuff,

which for the purposes of identification,

we will here then after
refer to as the rubbish.

- Are you trying to tell me

that you didn't paint the
ones we sold in France?

- Yes.

- Well then who did?

- He did.

- And who painted these?

- He did.

- And who painted the rubbish?

- I did.

And before you go to work
on me with your umbrella,

I would just like to know

that that stuff is marvellous

and my stuff is rubbish?

(chuckles)

- But there's no comparison.

This is the work of a genius.

The style differs,

but the sheer artistry of the painter

is still there.

The man who painted these
has something to say.

- And so have I.

I am turning it in.

You don't know what you're talking about.

Well Paul,

you're quite welcome to take over now.

There's the cigarette case,

the holder,

the gold watch,

and the rings.

And apart from a couple of hot dinners,

that's all I've had out of it.

- I still don't understand.

You made your name on my paintings?

- Unfortunately, yes.

No deception was intended.

I tried to explain, but

everything just got out of hand.

If you got any doubts about anything else,

just ask gentleman Jim here.

He'll tell you all about it.

And as for all the money that was made,

he's got it.

Good luck.

Ladies and gentlemen,

I shall now bid you all good day.

I'm off.

I know what I was cut out to do,

and I should have done it long ago.

You're all raving mad.

None of you know what you're looking at.

You wait till I'm dead,

you'll see I was right.

- Extraordinary fellow.

- My dear boy,

ladies and gentlemen,

l have a rather unusual
announcement to make.

(Orchestral music)
(hammering)

- This is more like it,

back on my own ground again.

Ah, the feel of the chisel.

Here we are,

Aphrodite at the Water Hole,

coming up for the third time.

Cora,

lift your arm up a bit dear.

And don't wobble the jug.

(hammering)

Hold that.

Now, I want you to give
me the primitive desires

inherent in womanhood since time began.

- Oh, you want a bit of leg.

- No.

No.

No, don't bother.

(hammering)

(orchestral music)