Original subtitles

Uncle Jonathan, come and join me.

Let's have some fun for a change.

Bible?

Bible?

Thank you very much.

Bible?

No, sir, it's no monster.

It's a hybrid.

The head came from the Russian front, 1915.

The arms are viennese, 1917.

The hips are French.

This leg is Romanian

and that one Serbian, 1916.

- Times are hard. - True.

Yet surely the one thing

there's no shortage of at the moment is corpses.

- Man: For sure, sir. - Herr schiele.

- Schiele: Yes? - If you would care to follow me.

Ein, zwei, ein, zwei, ein, zwei...

Herr schiele, this way.

There's no one here?

They've all gone.

Really?

- Even midi? - Even fraulein floge.

Gustav.

Gustav, it's me.

Flowers.

Woman's voice: How terrible. Because of the weather,

they've decided to cancel

the primavesi masquerade ball.

Okay, that's enough for today.

Come on down. There's some food and drink in the kitchen.

- Thank you. - Thanks.

Thank you, herr klimt.

I would work longer,

but I have an appointment.

Thanks for today.

- What about you? - What about me?

- Man: Melange and a wiener jause. - Man #2: For me too.

- Kaiser melange. - Franziskaner.

- Bring me the usual. - A tafelspitz.

- As usual. - Very good.

- Man #3: As usual. - Maria Theresa cafe.

- Man #3: As usual. - Melange-- kaiser melange.

- As usual. - What a rumpus.

- What's going on? - A reconciliation dinner

between herr jodl's supporters and herr wickhoff's supporters.

And of course the members of the academy.

Those you know well, herr klimt.

Yes, but to me they all sound alike,

as though they were farting through trumpets.

- How do you tell them apart? - Easy.

In spite of his name, herr jodl believes

that there exists a single and unique form of aesthetic beauty.

- Does he now? - In his view, form is of no significance,

as long as there is beauty.

Herr wickhoff on the other hand

argues that every era has it's own concept of beauty.

A concept that changes as the era changes.

For him, nothing is ugly.

It just depends on the era.

And the academicians?

They believe that when herr Raphael died,

beauty died along with him.

But it was all good, clean fun,

that is until herr loos turned up.

Ah. Here is klimt,

a modern ornamentalist.

A real pathological case.

He never stops switching styles.

- What do you propose instead? - Loos: Read my articles.

- Forget it. - Loos: Look at this mirror.

I mean look at it, not into it.

What purpose does it serve?

To adjust one's hat, one's cravat,

- one's lipstick. - Which, let me remind you, are all ornaments.

Now look at the gold frame. What purpose does it serve?

I'll tell you. It serves to give work--

pointless, unproductive work-- to craftsmen.

That's exactly what I'm talking about.

The frame is useless, therefore inexpressive.

The mirror is useful, therefore functional,

therefore expressive and therefore beautiful.

Oh, come on.

What you were just saying is merely ornamental.

Therefore it's useless and therefore it's ugly.

However, this cake has allowed me to shut your mouth,

therefore it's useful, it's expressive

and, above all, it's beautiful.

You, herr klimt, I forgive.

And you know why I forgive you?

Because at least your paintings are sexual

as all art should be.

The crucifixion, for example--

now what could be more sexual

than the crucifixion?

Excuse me.

I'm-- I'm sorry.

Oh, sorry I'm so late.

I've just come from the ministry.

Hartl?

Yes.

So what does the minister have to say for himself?

He must still be in a state of shock, I suppose.

He's not the worst, you know.

So, will there be a scandal or not?

Maybe not.

Really?

The minister said that for the moment he supports klimt.

After Paris, who knows?

If all goes well, there'll be no scandal.

So it all depends on the judgment of Paris.

God, that's pathetic.

Speaking of Paris, have you packed?

My mother will take care of that for me.

Naturally.

Everyone's here, even jodl.

Man: That fellow deserves to have his face smashed in.

Man #2: But he's with wickhoff.

I thought they couldn't stand each other.

Do you know what jodl said?

"We are not against the nude art.

We are not against free art.

But we are against hideous art."

And he is sitting right over here,

under our noses.

I feel like smashing his face in!

No no no, you'll do nothing of the sort.

And our good friend klimt, what is he thinking of doing?

Nothing. Klimt is drinking his coffee.

Oh, leave them alone.

Woman: Where are you going?

To vomit. I'm going to vomit.

Man #3: Herr klimt.

Herr klimt.

If all goes well in Paris.

Herr klimt.

The flowers. Schiele: What?

Flowers.

Woman: Good heavens. What happened?

- Man: A broken mirror. - Man #2: Well, I must say

the 20th century is off to a good start--

a whole century of bad luck.

- What's going on? - You're famous, didn't you know?

It can happen to anyone, after all.

No, I'm joking.

No, I was talking about the mirror.

I was standing in front of it,

then someone asked me how I was enjoying Paris.

I said something or the other

and the mirror shattered.

Man #3: What really happened?

Man #4: I spoke to klimt and asked him whether he missed Vienna,

he said, "not Vienna, but the flowers."

When he said "flowers," the mirror shattered.

There's rodin. So he came after all.

And mucha and...

Herr stuck.

Klimt: I need a glass of water.

- Herr klimt. - Ah.

You again.

Man: Oh, you know me? I am flattered.

Usually no one knows civil servants...

At least not the minor ones.

Allow me to introduce myself--

secretary to the consular service of the Austrian embassy.

Third secretary...

In perpetuity.

At my age, one learns to forget all about promotion.

Honored nevertheless to make your acquaintance.

I'm a great admirer of yours.

Burgtheater.

What an astounding achievement.

It's a fucking wedding cake made of shit.

Yes, I had heard your language was a little--

shall we say on the salty side.

It's the only language I know.

Not true, I'm sure.

But I wouldn't dream of contradicting an artist.

Or perhaps you're just one of those people

who actually likes wedding cakes.

Well, you say that with contempt.

But after all it's wedding cakes that follow monuments,

not the other way around.

I need a glass of water.

Where did you get to? Everyone's looking for you.

The minister's there, they are all there but you.

I have the distinct impression

herr klimt is unaware of what awaits him.

Austria, my dear klimt.

Austria has been honored.

You've won the gold medal.

I knew it.

Oh shit!

Oh, really, herr klimt,

you exaggerate.

Herr klimt.

Mesdames, messieurs...

Attention, please.

I would like to announce a great surprise

from the management of the exposition.

Mesdames, messieurs, will you please now welcome

the great magician monsieur melies

and his two very talented actors.

You're not offended, I hope.

Oh, offended? No, on the contrary.

- Did you enjoy the film? - I...

Thought it was remarkable. My congratulations.

It's monsieur melies you should congratulate.

Monsieur melies, a great honor.

Oh, a mere trifle.

We cobbled it together last week.

How did you like Lea?

She could charm the birds out of the trees.

I hope you'll agree to paint my portrait.

- Yes, I would love to. - Tell me, what do you think of Lea?

She could charm the trees themselves.

If you like this one, you'll like the real Lea even better.

Pardon?

Don't worry, monsieur klimt.

The real one is not nearly as real as the false one.

Ah.

Midi: You like her, don't you?

Hmm?

Yes, you do like her.

You always said you cannot work

without a model within arm's reach,

if I can put it like that.

Yet all of a sudden you can draw her by heart.

Par coeur.

Well, well.

Little gustl speaks French.

Quelle surprise.

Hmm?

No, midi. No, not you.

You're beautiful, but...

But what?

Message for Mr. Klimt.

Sign here please.

- Is it from her? - Klimt: It's from someone.

A rendezvous. Tonight?

I'm to meet someone downstairs.

In Vienna they're expecting you.

I know that too.

You're going to stay on in Paris, aren't you?

I don't know.

Gustl, I leave tomorrow.

Without me.

I've got to go-- the boutique.

Speaking of which, have I shown you my latest models?

No, I'd like to see them.

Gustl, you will tell me everything?

- I promise. - Every detail.

Every.

- What? You! - At your service.

You'll have to excuse me,

I'm on my way to a romantic assignation.

- The carriage is outside. - Just who are you?

- Your humble servant. - I don't need a servant.

Do you know what they call Paris?

The new Babylon.

It's a beguiling city but a dangerous one.

I see. So you're going to chaperone me, I suppose.

What if it's the other way around?

I have my resources.

Was it the embassy that sent you?

No, the person whose message you've just received.

- The false Lea. - False, true-- does it really matter?

Right away, monsieur.

Actually, I wear several different hats.

At the cultural section of the embassy

we're modestly renumerated. But I get by.

Lea-- the false Lea-- is she wealthy?

The false one, no. The real one, yes.

She has a wealthy sugar daddy.

A sugar daddy. Naturally.

Here we are.

Oh, I see I'm leaving you in good hands.

- Have fun. - You're abandoning me?

Mission accomplished.

Monsieur, if you would kindly follow me.

Klimt: Sir, may I ask what all this is about?

Sir?

Sir, may I ask what all this is about?

Sir?

Sir, I asked you a question.

I am not permitted to say anything, sir.

I'm sorry.

- You. - Yes, it's me.

They told me you're one of those men

who like their women naked.

It isn't always the case, you know.

Here in France, nudite is no longer comme il faut.

Whiskey?

Mmm.

At the moment, whiskey is all the rage in Paris.

But then, as you know, the rage changes

so quickly in this city.

Six months ago it was port with a splash of bitters.

And last year...

It was strawberries and champagne.

But that's enough gossip.

Shall we get down to business?

You said publicly that you'd be delighted to paint my portrait.

I can scarcely believe it.

Believe it, mademoiselle. Believe it.

What do you think?

The Duke wolff helenia adores it.

- Oh? - A friend.

A very dear friend.

Let's say an intimate friend.

And is he in Paris just at the moment?

Who knows?

The Duke is a globetrotter.

Don't you trot the globe with him?

Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't.

Au fond, he's an artist.

An artist who just happens not to possess any talent.

So instead of painting me himself

he commissions other talented artists to do it for him.

I see.

You haven't told me yet what you think of this whistler.

If it weren't amusing, it would be laughable.

You have a cruel streak.

I like the cruelty of artists.

It tends to leave a bittersweet aftertaste.

And it mixes well with your sweat.

Mmm, funny.

There's the smell of horses about you.

But I also detect a hint of apples, no?

How impatient you are.

Don't tell me you've got another appointment.

No. No.

- I love you. - What?

- Love at first sight? - Yes.

- Yes. - Be careful.

Love at first sight doesn't always survive the second.

Heavens, we're carrying on like a pair of bumpkins.

But I personally prefer to make love, as it were,

- through the proper channels. - You can't deny he's got allure.

I'd call it a nerve.

Mmm.

She is not bad.

She's not bad at all.

You think so? I find her a bit stiff.

Well, don't forget-- it's not so easy.

He's certainly a fast worker.

Is he of peasant stock?

I have no idea.

Ah.

My dear, I fear it's your turn now. Go.

Go go go.

I do hope I didn't keep you waiting.

No, on the contrary.

But I do wonder how you changed your hairstyle so quickly.

Unless of course...

You're not the real one.

Double Lea: Men. Why do you always need proof?

Always need evidence?

It isn't you, is it?

What isn't me?

Lea.

Lea.

Lea de Castro.

Don't tell me you've been talking

to that poor little girl who pretends to be me.

I've been told you watched the film she's in.

Is she any good?

You believe me now?

I believe.

I gather you made a promise to paint my portrait.

Mm-hmm.

Then I'll expect you to keep it.

Actually, I shall want two portraits.

One in which I'm clothed...

And the other in which I'm stark naked.

Or stark nude.

It seemed to me that only someone like you

would be capable of painting me clothed

in such a way that people would think I was naked.

And painting me naked in such a way

that people wouldn't see my nakedness at all, but--

- well, something else. - Mm-hmm. What else?

So how long will it take you?

Hmm?

A week?

Two weeks?

At the moment, I really can't give you too much time.

Two weeks isn't nearly long enough.

We could start tomorrow.

What you did is very beautiful.

Very beautiful.

And very strange.

Man: The man does have courage, I'll give him that.

Man #2: Easy if you're well paid.

Man: Oh no, you can see he really worked.

Man #3: And that's all he's got to show for it?

Man #2: Well, you can't make an omelet

without breaking eggs.

Man #3: What he does is break eggs

without making an omelet.

- Herr klimt. - Herr minister.

What do you think?

Oh...

I find it all very... Aback-taking.

Yes. Indeed this is the word-- aback-taking.

But we'll talk about it later.

We'll have a long chat about it, just the two of us.

Man: What's the difference between a caricature

- and an allegory? - Now you'll excuse me.

Man #2: According to herr klimt, there isn't any difference.

Man: Ah.

Man #3: What do you say, professor?

Man #2: I would argue rather that if there is abuse,

it is not of antichrony but of anti-poetics.

- Honorable secretary. - Second secretary--

- hmm. - Since last week.

- As the French say, ca s'arrose. - Ca s'arrose.

- Your good health. - And yours.

Not everyone's happy.

Most of them are furious.

Not me. But then I live in Paris.

There, your work would be regarded as poetic--

charmingly poetic. Here it's decadent.

I wish I were in Paris.

Don't delude yourself.

Here, decadent is synonymous with diabolical.

In Paris, it just means naughty.

Secretary: You know, herr klimt,

I've been around.

And I can assure you, it's a triumph.

It's a triumph that may feel at the moment

very much like a defeat.

But it's a triumph, nevertheless.

Klimt: Have you seen Lea?

She's worried about the painting.

Is it progressing?

I haven't had time.

I see. Well...

She's waiting for you to get in touch with her.

And she's quite willing to come to you...

Just as soon as the portrait is finished.

It's not a portrait, it's an allegory.

I fear that's going to be an unpleasant surprise

for mademoiselle de Castro.

What do you think of my allegories?

Yet another abrupt change of subject?

I think they're poetic-- charmingly poetic.

- Man: You think of it as dionysian... - Thank you.

Man: But I can't agree.

Because I also discern traces of a true apollonian spirit...

Klimt, I've been looking for you.

What do you think?

What do I think?

I think it's beautiful,

sublime, revolutionary.

But that's not what I've come to talk to you about.

I've been hearing from my informants

that you have problems, big problems.

Your paintings are likely to be rejected.

There is even talk of a scandal.

Two scandals-- because I'm going to take them back.

Steal the paintings?

That doesn't make sense. They are no longer yours.

They were once and they will be again.

You're really going to get into trouble, you know.

In any event,

whatever happens, you have my support.

Berta-- Berta zuckerkandl.

I was looking for you.

Excuse me, please.

Many apologies, but I have got to go.

So, you need to hear what I've just heard.

200 signatures...

Man: Actually no, not really.

Each ornament is, in itself,

a form of expression.

Man #2: And the expression itself...

Frau zuckerkandl's a very powerful woman.

Congratulations. This means the press is going to get behind you.

You're saved.

You think so?

Our dear academicians have a very short memory.

Alas for them, but good for you.

For they're going to attack you on every front,

which I have to tell you is also a good sign.

The academy loathes you, but herr kraus for his part,

abominates both you and the academy.

The philistines will be up in arms,

then herr loos will counter attack

by saying that they're the real scandal.

And with any luck, you'll find yourself in the middle

of the most god-awful stink.

I repeat, congratulations.

Tell Lea I am coming to see her soon.

Change of subject.

Actually I don't believe she's in Paris at the moment.

Gustav? Gustav, are you talking to yourself?

No. No, I was...

Talking to someone.

Well...

The minister's furious.

- So am I. - He has changed sides.

For the moment, he is...

He is against us.

So what?

Gustl... you are not making things easy.

I'm sorry.

Man: The exhibition-- was it a success?

Man #2: Well, if you measure the success

of such an event by the number of visitors

who remember to take their hats off,

I'd say it was a disaster.

Hartl: No...

No no. No!

No, let me-- let me go.

Stop.

Hartl: We'll redeem Austria.

Klimt. Klimt.

Hartl.

You are the only one.

The only one

who has any reason to complain.

All those jodl's, those loos's are--

- one moment! - What the bunch--

we are the police.

Herr minister, why don't we accompany you home?

Out of the question. I'll stay with my friend klimt.

Oh, why didn't I put up a fight for you?

Come on, my old friend, let's have one for the road.

I know a place not--

not far from here.

Oh, your excellency, what an honor.

We saw that the light was on

and so we decided to come up and say good evening.

A wonderful idea.

Ah, herr klimt.

We haven't seen you for quite some time.

- Have you reserved? - No, we haven't.

I'm afraid we are unforgivably spur of the moment.

I'm sure we will find something for you,

although we are rather crowded tonight.

Herr adler and his friends

are in your habitual salon, herr klimt.

And the Russian and the Thai salons

are also occupied.

How about the persian salon?

Oh, I'm afraid the Italians have that.

But how about the western salon?

No, out of the question.

That only leaves the African salon?

Oh, that's excellent!

You do know the rules for that salon?

Of course, of course.

I love them!

Hartl: Allegories, schmallegories,

call them what you please.

But all that nudity...

What were you thinking of?

Klimt: The history of art

is also the history of nudity.

Hartl: Okay, but there are rules--

rules of representation and you know the rules.

You know what you can show and what you can't show.

Did you really have to break every single one?

Klimt: Did you see the shape?

The serpent legeia--

the founder of medicine.

The cycle of life and death.

Yes, but you didn't say anything--

klimt: I am a painter. I am not a fucking critic!

Herr klimt...

Aren't you going to say good evening to your daughter?

Good evening, herr klimt.

I admire your work.

How do you do?

How is school?

There is no school.

How very you-- children all over the place.

There is klimt with the minister.

Death to decadents.

Hartl: Death to morons!

- Long live the republic! - Long live the Balkans!

- Long live the republic! - Long live the Balkans!

- Long live the republic! - Long live the Balkans!

Long live whores!

Quick. Choose the one you want.

- Long live the republics! - I'm going to stay with your daughter.

Is she really your daughter?

I suppose she is, I don't know.

I'll have this one and this one and this one.

I see you four are going to cook up

a nice little allegory together.

Mother: How many have you got?

Five? Six?

More than that, mama.

If you ask me, he's holding something back.

And all of them with different mothers?

Sometimes I wonder.

Mama, would you pass me a semmel?

I can see he would rather not answer.

Mother, these children of mine--

- yes? - The models are free.

Oh yes...

They're free all right.

And I suppose it's just a coincidence

they are all jewesses?

Yes, hermine.

That's what I read in the paper,

- I didn't make it up. - You don't have to make it up

because the paper already did that for you.

Free, you say?

Klimt: Mama.

Six? Eight? 10? What?

There's no point in counting them, mama.

Am I right, gustl?

What are you going to do?

I am going to go to the studio

and paint, mama, I am going to paint.

My god, my god.

Thank you both for a very nice lunch.

Far, far too many children.

Mama...

A child is a gift from god.

Whose god? The Jewish one?

I'll see you both this evening.

Thank you.

Hermine: What do you want for dinner?

Guess.

Mother: We are waiting for an answer.

Stew.

Don't you ever get sick of stew?

Mama! Mama! Mama!

Come.

I have to show you something.

It's me?

So to speak.

And?

Your condition has stabilized.

We should nevertheless continue with the Mercury.

Oh god, must we?

It takes so much out of me.

But my dear fellow, you're an athlete.

Rolf, as you know, I have children.

In fact, quite a few.

Is there any risk that they might be...

That they have been contaminated?

No, not really.

There's always a risk, obviously,

but it's a fairly small one.

You know half the male population of this city is syphilitic.

If it weren't you, it would be someone else.

I see.

So your work-- going well?

Mmm.

How is your mother?

- Bad. - Your sister?

Worse.

You could have them committed, you know?

I'd take care of it all.

No, I should prefer

to take care of them myself, thanks.

Secretary: Well well well, herr klimt,

here you are again.

Alas my friend, it can't have escaped your notice

that Vienna isn't any longer what it was.

In fact, it hasn't really been Vienna

for a very long time.

Isn't it odd, though,

that when the minister takes it upon himself

to reduce state subsidies for the arts,

and sometimes eliminates them altogether,

you continue to receive support

from the most unlikely sources?

You were chosen by the chosen.

If you'll forgive the pun.

You were elected by the elite.

Sorry, another pun.

You transferred your allegiance to private enterprise

just in time. The rich bourgeoisie adores you.

And you clearly feel the same way about them.

I'm beginning to sense our friend doesn't look at all

favorably upon the idea.

- You won't sell it? - It isn't finished.

But, klimt, if we are to believe you,

not one of your paintings is finished.

They aren't!

Well, what can I say?

It's your painting and you must decide

what you want to do with it.

We'll talk it over again some other time, I trust.

But now what say we take a little guided tour

of the klimt museum?

It's just simply marvelous.

Quite, quite remarkable.

The whole world.

What kind of world would you say?

Man: Where's klimt?

He left as always.

In my opinion, klimt should paint

nothing but landscapes.

I also dreamed of you.

In this dream, I was married to a very very old musician.

Old and rich, huh?

- No, not rich. - No?

He was a retired coffee house waiter.

Everybody called him the professor.

Just imagine, he locked me into a huge room.

Hmm.

And every night...

He brought me another man.

And so each night I made love

to an unknown person.

Serena.

Have you been here the whole time?

I think I am going to say I only just arrived.

Better that way, no?

Perhaps. Listen, if you've come about your portrait,

I'm afraid I have to confess

I haven't done much work on it since our last sitting.

No. I haven't come about the portrait.

It's something I saw in here the other day...

Quite by chance.

- Do you mind? - No.

Voila. Here it is.

Who is this?

"Who is this?"

It seems you know very well who that is.

Oh, yes? How do I know?

Intuition.

Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact

I do know.

Lea de Castro. I see.

- Well, I've got to go. - So soon?

Yes, so soon.

I'll leave you to your models.

They seem quite terrifyingly naked.

At times they are.

Serena: Amuse yourself. Work well!

Klimt: Let's work.

So are you mad at me? No, you aren't.

Thank you. Steady now.

You haven't made a rendezvous with her?

Photographer: Turn your face a little.

Mais no, mais no, mais no.

Is she still in Paris?

Photographer: Very still.

Sometimes I wonder

if the real Lea even exists.

Photographer: Good.

I want to get married.

Are you serious?

Mmm... no.

Well, actually yes and no.

A free marriage.

I've got another piece of news for you.

- Yeah? - You've just had a child.

- A daughter. - What? No.

- With who? - Mizzi.

- I have a daughter? - Yes.

I have a little daughter!

- Yes. - That is wonderful news!

Gustl!

Mizzi: Little red riding hood's great grandmother

had a love affair with a wolf.

So her daughter was born

half wolf and half human.

She became a wolf when she grew up.

So, it was she

who swallowed little red riding hood.

As she did so, she sang a song.

Mizzi, it's me.

- You want to see her? - Of course.

She's in there.

- No. I won't. - Why not?

I should prefer not to just at the moment.

She doesn't bite.

I'll see her when she's older.

As you wish, herr klimt.

What have you got there?

It's just a gift from someone.

In a very poor taste.

A gift from someone

in a very poor taste.

Mizzi: Gustav, I have to talk to your father.

Go and play in the yard.

Come on. Come on.

Herr klimt...

My father came to see me.

He wanted to talk to me about--

well, you see, he--

he wanted to--

he needs money?

Oh, no. No.

No, it's not about money. He--

he would like the children

to be brought up in the Jewish faith.

Fine. So long as he takes care of it.

- You're not shocked? - No, why?

I thought you were a catholic?

I'm nothing at all. But if your father

wants to amuse himself by putting the fear of god

into his grandchildren and you're not against it,

it's fine by me.

- What a relief. - A relief?

Well, i-- I wasn't sure how you would react.

Thank you, herr klimt.

A thousand, thousand thanks.

Gustl!

Gustav!

Gustl!

Ow!

I've told you once, I've told you 1,000 times.

Next time you will get more than a slap.

What's he done?

There is something wrong with that boy.

He prefers to play with a little chink.

He knows he's forbidden to.

Why is it forbidden?

Herr klimt.

I ask you a question.

Well, you know...

We don't know where they come from.

China?

You can be terribly cruel.

Midi: Sorry, but I'm going to have to disturb you.

Klimt: Not now, midi, please.

You're angry, irritated, sad.

- I'm also late. - Midi: I have to talk to you.

No, tomorrow.

You've seen the photographs?

You were followed by a photographer.

You can be seen quite clearly.

There's no doubt it's you sashaying through Vienna

with a painting under your arm.

Dear old gustl, stealing his own painting.

What?

Shit!

- Klimt: I'll pay them back. - Midi: And what will you use for money?

- Klimt: I've no idea. - Gustl, gustl.

I don't give a shit about those critics.

And the academics, they can take their shitty little opinions

and their shitty little theories

and shove them up their shitty little assholes.

Oh my I've never seen little gustl so angry.

I care about the people who buy my work.

And believe me, I promise you,

- those people-- I'm going to reimburse.

Yes, I'm laughing.

Sorry, gustl. I'm laughing because

I know you really mean it. That's a joke.

You think it's a joke?

Oh, little gustl is used to getting his own way.

That's what's so funny.

To tell you the truth, midi...

To tell you the truth i-- I don't know what to do.

Your friends will clean up after your mess.

They usually do.

Thank you, midi.

Gustl!

Kissing anywhere but on the lips is like smoking without inhaling.

I'll keep that in mind.

I have to work.

Don't worry, I'm going.

- Ah, non! - Yes!

Where are you?

Or that matter, who are you?

I was waiting outside.

Then I met pussy,

so I followed her in here by the back door.

Why aren't you in Paris?

Paris?

Oh, Paris is a long way away.

I note that you haven't asked for news

of mademoiselle Lea.

Oh, you mean the false Lea?

She's the one you're in love with.

- Or am I wrong? - I wouldn't know.

Perhaps they're both false.

Both?

All three of them. Who can tell?

Duke wolff helenia, you know...

He's a viennese to the tips of his manicured fingernails.

He just adores imbroglios.

He adores to set the cat among the pigeons.

So...

So?

Why don't you go to her since she's waiting for you?

You said she, not they.

I know, tricky isn't it?

Now you must excuse me.

Well well well, look who's here.

I was expecting you.

Actually, it wasn't you I was expecting.

- It was him. - Oh, hello hello.

Oh, my poor friend.

I can see you're completely discombobulated.

You have my sympathy.

But come in. Come in.

Please, come in.

- Bonsoir, Jean-Claude. - Bonsoir.

Where is Lea?

There is no one here. I mean, no one but me and you

and your double.

Is there anything I can offer you?

Do make yourselves at home.

This is my home, you know?

It's my studio.

I rent it out from time to time to the Duke

or else to one of his acquaintances.

Or maybe I should say accomplices?

Where is Lea?

Sit down, my friend. Sit down.

There are chairs for everyone.

Forgive me, I've a memory like a sieve.

I can't seem to remember

anything at all about poor Lea.

Wait, though.

I have what you might call

mnemotechnical hands.

Why don't we interrogate them?

Now where have my scissors got to?

You're holding them, dear melies.

Ah, yes, so I am.

All right, let's see.

Light.

Lea?

Lea.

- It's idiotic! - It's simply idiotic!

It could be that I am an imbecile.

Idiot means that you are self-enclosed,

a prisoner of yourself, of your sense data.

An imbecile is someone who has no sense.

What about him?

Wittgenstein: ...Which can be expressed in less than three words.

- Imbecile. - How can you say that?

I say it because it's true.

It is no use here.

It lends itself only to vagueness.

May I join you?

Ah, schiele, it's you. Yes, please.

They say you found a new Chinese style.

Do you have a pencil?

I'll draw the first line

and you draw the next and so on.

Schiele: Who's winning?

No one.

Whose drawing is this? Yours or mine?

Do you know what those young people say?

They say that you have to stand outside of history.

This history's a nightmare.

And that there's absolutely nothing else

to be said about it.

And who are they?

I don't know.

They sound like philosophers.

Except they say philosophy

is rubbish.

Yes, of course.-

oh.-

Soldier: Schiele.

Schi...

...ele.

Schi--

ha!

Man: Come this way.

Calm down.

Moritz: What are you reading?

Klimt: Dante.

And you find Dante helpful, do you?

And what does that have to do with you?

Nothing. Nothing.

So very sorry to have--

as a matter of fact, I do find it helpful.

I see. I see.

Here you are, professor.

May I offer you something?

No, thank you, professor.

I've had enough to drink this evening.

I am not a professor, herr klimt.

I am nothing-- virtually nothing.

Once upon a time,

I was actually doing what Klaus does now.

Ah. I knew I'd seen you before.

My name is Hugo.

Hugo Moritz.

To your very good health.

I've spent 30 years at this table

listening to the drivel of these gentlemen:

"What is beauty? What is ugliness?

What is function?

Everything is beautiful.

Everything is ugly.

Nothing is functional."

To your very good health...

Sir.

Police have only just left and they're at it again.

Really, these gentlemen are seriously beginning to get on my nerves.

In my day I'd have had them slung out

on their backsides by now.

Come, let's be off.

I think I'll go home.

Nonsense. Far too late to stay, far too early to go.

Come. I live just across the way.

Bring your glass.

As I say, it's a mere matter of crossing the street.

And please, don't concern yourself about the bill.

It's all taken care of.

I have got a permanent tab here.

I trust the incense doesn't bother you?

My son simply can't live without it.

Now...

If you'll excuse me for a moment,

I have to get dressed.

Actually, I think I should be on my way.

- But I can find-- - oh, no no no no.

I won't hear of it.

Too late, herr klimt. Too late.

Moritz: Ah, here's the little genius of the family.

Thomas is a great admirer of yours, herr klimt.

He's not wholly unlike you either.

For he too represents a certain evolution in the artistic process.

In just 15 years,

he has gone from writing music

which was almost archaic

to music of the utmost modernity.

Play us something, Thomas.

You see what nowadays you would call "early music."

And now, Thomas...

That'll do.

Now it starts to get really up-to-date.

And now total modernity.

In his most recent compositions,

he has actually gone beyond modernity,

beyond everything,

thereby coming full circle.

That'll be all for this evening.

Ho...

I--

I love you.

I love you to death.

Come.

Come with me.

Come. I love you.

Over there.

Yeah.

Mmm...

My name is Anna.

All right.

Moritz, is he your husband?

Let's say he's my supplier.

I see.

Don't be too hard on him, the poor thing.

Do you do this every night?

Yes. Every night.

We were meant to recreate your painting.

We weren't successful, so he's not happy.

No.

Where did you disappear to? You scared me.

I had forgotten I had a rendezvous with a lady.

Look, there she is.

She wanted to come.

Actually, so did I.

I wanted you to know.

Mizzi, how are you?

You know we're a couple?

Congratulations.

See? I told you.

You're not angry?

No. Why should I be angry?

What's the matter with her?

Nothing. She's always been like that.

Ah...

There she is,

the mysterious lady.

The professor's wife.

The professor's wife?

Thomas is the professor's wife.

Tubby little Mozart!

Then who is she?

A client. There's a different one every evening.

You understand?

Yes.

It's wonderful.

Isn't it?

You haven't yet got it right, but you're almost there.

The main problem is finding the exact coloration

that will help us to detect the bacilli.

We'll get it eventually.

It really is very beautiful.

Oh, it's better than that. It's useful.

Thank you, Rolf.

Come again whenever you want.

I'm here every day.

Now...

There is something else

I'd like to show you.

Yes, please.

Secretary: Herr klimt.

Herr klimt.

Herr klimt.

Oh, yes. It really is me.

I was just thinking how long it's been

since the last time we ran into each other.

Well, we're all extremely busy at the moment.

Busy at the ministry of culture?

You do fuck-all.

There you are mistaken. At the moment,

our task is to prevent people from creating anything,

which, believe me, takes a great deal more energy

than helping them create something.

But why am I telling you all this?

I no longer work for the ministry of culture.

I work for the ministry of finance-- taxes, you see?

And I should warn you, they're beginning to take an interest in you.

Tell me, just out of curiosity,

a painting-- a portrait, say-- how long does it take you?

Are you checking on my finances?

Yes, I'm afraid I am. Apologies.

Right here, right now?

Yes, again. Apologies, again.

Do you find it at all odd that we've known each other

all these years and I still don't know your name?

Let's keep it that way, shall we, at the moment?

Still working for the Duke?

The Duke? Mademoiselle de Castro's benefactor.

Strange, I saw him just the other day.

He asked me to pay him a visit.

Since his accident, he doesn't get about as much as he used to.

Tell you the truth, he doesn't really invite you. He summons you.

And what I discovered was that it's you he's after.

He asked me to have a word with you

and-- eh, I was going to say invite--

summon you to see him.

You won't even have to make an appointment.

He-- he never gets anybody these days.

Here's his address.

Now you must excuse me.

Yes yes yes.

Ahem. Hmm.

Uh, I've been watching you.

Is everything all right?

Yes, everything's fine.

You were talking to yourself.

No no no, I was--

Oh. Remember me?

Paris. Melies?

I was you.

Man: Herr klimt, they are waiting for you.

Klimt: Lea.

Lea.

Lea, where are you?

Lea, where are you?

Who are you?

Hmm.

You know, it never ceases to amuse me

to see how easily

people will fall into my little traps.

Traps that are, after all, scarcely what--

what you would call machiavellian.

Or should the word be mephistophelean?

Or even angelic,-

which I have to say, would be my own word for it.

Whichever, here you are.

You've fallen headlong into my trap.

It's a really rather simple little trap.

Especially for a man like you.

Hmm? A ladies' man,

so they say.

If you knew how often I have been asked

that embarrassing question--

I'm even tempted to call it a stupid question,

except that that would be extremely disobliging to you,

would it not?

But from what I hear, you're a rather frank and forthright sort of fellow,

doesn't suffer fools gladly, that sort of thing.

Which, I have to say, is not at all my first impression of you.

Ahem.

And when might all...

Of this have happened?

How old is Lea?

She is not old, my friend. She's dead.

Murdered.

Murdered in her bed. Where else?

I need a glass of water.

There are even those who said that I did it.

No one could prove a thing, of course.

I tell you, I wouldn't have minded ending my days in a prison cell.

It was you I was with a little while ago, wasn't it?

I don't know.

I really do believe it was you I was with.

Octave: Why does it surprise you, my dear herr klimt,

that there should be so many different layers?

Why do you keep wondering which is the real one?

You have doubles too, after all.

Are you the real klimt?

Perhaps you're only the latest one.

Man: That's it.

Soldier: Bad news from the front!

Bad news

from the front!-

good gracious.

Can it really be Gustav klimt?

Thank you.

No no, there's no need to thank me.

I'm honored, herr klimt.

Really most honored to be of assistance to you.

But I bet you don't remember me.

No.

Herr no. That's me.

Of course. Herr Otto messerschmitt Von ommit.

Mmm! Exactly so.

Dear sir, exactly so.

Herr no.

Is there something I can do for you?

No.

Well, at least let's walk a little while together.

Uh, nothing broken, I trust?

No.

- Well, I'll see you home. - No.

Uh...

- I bet you despise me. - No.

Mmm, no no no no. The correct answer is yes.

They all despise me, and they always have.

There's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

I simply can't resist saying no.

As a matter of fact,

my entire career has been built on this

natural tendency of mine to say no

to every question I'm ever asked.

And it's true you voted against me

to the school of fine arts?

That's right. It was thanks to me

you were never appointed professor.

And you voted no on every jury of every competition

- I've ever entered? - Exactly so.

Me and my notorious no.

Nevertheless, you have to admit that

without me

and my no's,

Vienna would now be a graveyard

of ugly monuments.

Ugly because they're beautiful.

For too much beauty, in my view,

is far worse than too little.

No, we simply don't have the space for so much beauty.

The old would have to be

endlessly demolished

to make room for the new.

Man: And now, ladies and gentlemen,

I proudly present Marco Polo.

My next song is dedicated

to someone who happens to be listening to us

at this very moment.

To a great artist...

It's all over.

All over?

Nurse: Ave Maria...

Ora pro nobis...

Mater dolorosa...

Klimt: Flowers.

Death is all around us.

How terrible.

Isn't it a shame about the weather, Gustav?

Yes, it is.

And I was planning a costume fitting

for the fancy dress ball. Look.

I found this.

Isn't it beautiful?

But because of the weather, they've decided

to cancel the primavesi masquerade ball.

- Midi? - Mm-hmm?

What time is it?

Late, I'm sure.

Poor Gustav.

He doesn't know where he is. He's lost.

Yes, she's here. It's my surprise.

Lea is here.

- The real Lea. - Lea: I don't think we ever met.

Did we?

Klimt: I don't know.

Poor klimt.

He doesn't know where he is.

He's lost.

You are not going to kiss her?

She's come from far away to bid you adieu.

There you are at last. I'm so pleased to see you again.

- And you. - It's so much nicer here. Don't you agree?

I'm trying to find a way out.

It's that way. Just turn left,

then left again. Keep turning left,

left left left, and then, hey, presto,

you're there.

Who are you?

My name is Sylvia.

I'm lost, just like you.

Do you like to get lost?

Just like you.

Everyone's looking for me,

just like you.

Come on. It's this way.

We've got to hide.

Were you talking to yourself?

No.

I was talking to him.

To a corpse?

And what were you two talking about?

Flowers.

Klimt: "Who art thou,"

asked the guardian of the night.

"From crystal purity I come," was my reply.

"And great my thirst, persephone.

Yet heeding thy decree, I take to flight and turn

and turn again, forever right.

I spurn the pallid cypress tree.

Seek no refreshment at its sylvan spring,

but hasten on towards the rustling river of mnemosyne

wherein I drink to sweet satiety.

And there, dipping my palms between the knots

and loopings of its mazy stream...

I see again, as in a drowning swimmer's dream,

all the strange sights I ever saw,

and even stranger sights no man has ever seen."