Original subtitles

Gauguin: Voyage To Tahiti

Hector's not here?

He's with Madame Pastourelle.

Thanks.

Monsieur Gauguin exhibits formidable talent here.

Ferocious talent!

Without losing an iota of charm.

Charm?

Christ as a Papuan divinity?

It looks like it was hacked out of a tree trunk.

Step back a bit, get some distance.

Feast your eyes

on this fusion of barbaric splendor, Catholic liturgy,

Hindu reverie...

Whatever you've got. I'll make do.

I'm sorry, nobody wants them.

It's not for lack of faith in you.

Take this as an advance.

It's the same old story. Living to make ends meet.

It takes half our time and all of our energy.

My friends, it's time to take off.

- We've gotta get out of here. - How?

We're broke, we have no support.

Degas! He knows Renan.

He's ready to send us on missions to Polynesia.

Polynesia!

We've dreamed of that!

Polynesia's far.

"Polynesia's far!"

Paul,

they don't pay travel expenses.

I'll use my last cent.

Every penny goes to the trip.

And in Tahiti, we won't need money!

We'll fish, gather...

We'll hunt.

And we'll paint!

Yeah, but...

It's complicated. It's far.

It's risky. We can't just take off.

Madeleine wants to get married.

And do you?

I'm taking Mette and the kids.

Growing up under the palms...

How bad is that?

Maybe once I've saved up a bit...

Why go now?

Because I'm suffocating!

Everything's rotten, filthy, disgusting. Look around!

There's not a face or landscape worth painting.

So who's with me?

What're you doing there?

Look at him!

Come here.

Boy, is he heavy!

You must weigh 200 pounds!

I didn't recognize you. You've gotten so big!

How beautiful you are.

How beautiful you are.

Look at you!

My eldest.

Come in.

Make yourself at home.

Come in, sweetheart.

It's a little chilly but...

It's modest!

It stinks in here.

It's gross. Look.

I don't wanna sleep here.

Good thing I got mattresses for the kids.

I didn't expect you so soon.

It's stinky, Mommy.

What did he say?

I'm so happy you're all here, Mette.

We're not coming with you, Paul.

What are you talking about?

I've thought it over. I can't do that to the kids.

To us.

To anyone, in fact.

When I see how you live...

I can't do it.

All this is just about you.

Go.

Do what you have to do.

Don't get mad.

That's your family talking again.

We've discussed it 100 times. You can't give up now!

They worry about the children's future.

You don't learn about life from books!

Who's to say they're better off here than there?

You see? Even now...

You talk too loud.

You only think of yourself. Not the kids.

In the world I live in

- and you live in it, too -

an education is crucial to avoid destitution.

Mette !

- You have to come. - I can't.

Come with me, I beg you.

I need you.

Attention, my friends!

Please! Allow me a few words!

Let's lift our glasses

to our dear Paul.

Please accept all our encouragement.

All our pride.

All our friendship.

May it will follow you

to the ends of the earth.

As that's where you've chosen to go!

You're a hero to us all, Paul.

And yet...

you're just doing what you have to do.

You'll never be like those pitiful artists

who follow the herd just to survive.

Those cautious souls

who've given up,

who've abdicated

to every form of morality.

Sexual morality,

religious morality,

patriotic morality,

the morality of soldiers and policemen.

You are a savage, my dear Gauguin.

Like the rest of us.

But you...

You've chosen to remember that.

Gauguin!

Here.

Here are your lemons.

Is there a money order?

If there is, pay off your tab.

Paul,

I know you'll never forgive me for what I'm about to say.

That you'll never understand my arguments,

which are so far from your own.

We're not joining you.

I don't support this undertaking.

Of all the artworks you've left with me,

not one has found a buyer.

Funds are tight.

100 francs is all I can send you.

Your children miss you.

This home misses you.

Day after day, my family hounds me.

They want me to sever our union,

which I'm now resolved to do.

You had a heart attack, Mr. Gauguin.

You need treatment and rest.

Drink this.

Slowly.

Your diabetes is quite advanced.

Without a healthier diet, it'll only get worse.

Your neighbor brought you here.

You should be in the hospital in Papeete.

Do you need anything?

Get some rest.

Jotepha...

My paints, please.

What are you doing here?

Where do you think you're going?

I just need some air.

I'm not dying without seeing the Taravao Plateau.

I've requested your repatriation to Papeete.

I won't go!

Hear that?

Hear it? They're even poisoning us here!

I'm disappearing in the forest!

That's totally irresponsible.

Why? Are you so responsible?

Here...

I entrust you with this letter.

I just ask you to mail it.

Take care of yourself.

There are spirits up there in the mountains.

They're in the wind,

in the trees,

in the water that flows through the valley,

in the rocks.

Be careful

not to awaken them.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

Mette,

I'm a child.

I'm a savage.

So I can't be ridiculous. Those two things never are.

Those who criticize me,

especially your family,

know nothing about an artist's nature.

Give me some time to experience this.

I'm following my path,

seeking my goal.

I'll prove that I'm right.

I'm a great artist

and I know it.

That's why I've endured so much suffering to follow my path.

Otherwise, I'd consider myself delinquent.

One day, our children will be able to present themselves to anyone,

anywhere,

with their father's name as protection and honor.

Not the paint!

Give me that!

Give me that!

Not the paint!

Give me my paint.

What's your name?

Paul Gauguin.

Koké?

Gauguin.

Me,

Onati.

My wife, Ruita.

- Eat! - Thank you.

Where are you from?

Mataiea.

And where are you going?

Taravao.

Thank you.

Are you looking for a wife?

Are you looking for a wife?

Do you want Tehura?

Come, sit down.

Tehura,

do you want him?

Yes, I'd like that.

Do you want to live with me in Mataiea?

Yes.

Koké...

Are you a good man?

Yes.

After one cycle of the moon,

if Tehura isn't happy,

she'll leave you.

Okay.

Matari'i...

We call that the Pleiades.

What does matari'i mean?

Eyes? Little eyes?

Little eyes.

Do you know

who created

the Heavens

and the Earth?

Do you know?

Yes.

Ta'aroa was his name.

He was waiting in the void,

before Man,

before the Earth,

before the Heavens.

The rocks are Ta'aroa.

The sands

are Ta'aroa.

Ta'aroa slept with the woman called the Goddess from Without,

or from the Sea.

They gave birth

to the black clouds,

the white clouds,

the rain.

Then Ta'aroa slept with the woman

called the Goddess from Within,

or from the Earth.

They gave birth to the first seed.

Ta'aroa slept with the woman,

Hina, the goddess of the Air,

of the Rainbow

and of Moonlight.

The curve of the jawline.

Here.

Go ahead.

Or we could do this. Look.

You do this.

Like that.

Okay!

Find...

a pose...

Cross your legs.

Lift your arm...

Put it there, like that.

Stop.

Tehura...

Don't move.

Please.

Line up his body with your feet.

Your hair always behind.

Sweep it back.

Now don't move. That's very good.

Hello!

Sorry, I'm disturbing you.

I heard you were back.

And?

You here to spy on me?

That's from the clinic. I thought it might do you good.

How do you feel?

Never felt better!

I paint and draw all day long.

I live in harmony with everything around me.

I might even say I've never felt so...

stimulated.

She's a Tahitian Venus.

It's very beautiful.

She's a primitive Eve.

She's savage...

and chaste.

She's very beautiful.

Since she got here,

I feel alive again.

- I understand. - It's not just that.

It's not just that.

To renew yourself, you have to go back to the source.

To the infancy of humanity.

The Eve I've chosen...

is untamed.

At the rate you're going,

soon there won't be a scrap of canvas left on the island.

What I wouldn't have shipped here, if I could!

Know the worst thing about poverty?

It prevents you from working.

I haven't received anything from Paris...

for weeks.

But am I dead yet?

No.

Not yet.

But without treatment, you will be.

And very soon.

I'm tough!

You know,

my heart may be kaput but...

the brain functions.

And I have faith.

I have faith.

And good thing!

Otherwise, I'd have blown my brains out long ago!

It wags its tail, like the rest of us.

And gives a thunderous cry...

No!

That's it!

You realize...

my life is in your hands.

Don't worry.

I'll get them to the boat.

What are you doing?

I need canvas. You must have something!

Stop making such a mess!

Try your arms behind your back.

Like that?

Try bending the other leg.

Try it.

I can do that.

It should look like you're...

almost like you are posing,

but you're not.

Something you do naturally.

Lift your leg.

Like that. See?

Can you put your foot here?

That's it.

Like a bird.

A bird on a branch.

And look that way.

Over there.

With an air totally... phew.

That's it.

That's really nice.

That's nice, with your head turned.

Now that's beautiful.

That's a painting.

Everyone on the same line!

On the line! No cheating.

One,

two,

three!

The winner!

Ladies and gentlemen,

may I introduce Miss Tehura de Montelimar de Montesquieu.

Applause, please!

She's so lovely!

Janneton takes her old sickle

Little giggle, little giggle

Janneton takes her old sickle

And goes to cut the rushes

And goes to cut the rushes

On the way there, she encounters

Little giggle, little giggle

On the way there, she encounters

Three such handsome, youthful boys

Three such handsome, youthful boys

Koké...

I'd like a white dress.

Why? You're beautiful like that.

A white dress to go to church.

I'm penniless, what can I do?

What's this lunacy about church?

That's not your world.

Aren't you expecting a letter?

Yes.

But who knows when?

It could take a while.

When your letter comes, then!

You're a pain! Go!

Jotepha!

Don't imitate! That's not the point.

Be daring!

Imagine!

You!

Who cares what others do? Do what you wanna do!

You.

Look at me. Tehura, please, look at me.

I'm hungry, Koké.

I know.

Look at me a little longer.

How much is the statue?

30 francs.

I'll take it for 10.

There were no more candles.

They were all gone.

The spirits came in.

- The spirits came in. - Don't move.

What?

What's the matter?

Wei...

You have to help me.

I have to feed my wife.

I've helped you a lot already.

I have a family to feed, too.

I work hard to do that.

Like it?

Yes.

I caught three.

And all three...

the hook

caught them here, in the lower jaw.

They made fun of me and said

that meant...

my wife was unfaithful.

If you think that's true,

you have to hit me very hard.

Hard!

Hit me!

Or your anger will haunt you forever.

It will never leave you in peace.

And that...

will last forever.

That's not bad!

Yeah, I like it.

What's that?

What is this?

For the white people.

They all wanna buy them.

Is that what I taught you?

Is that what I taught you?

You don't get it!

That's all you learned?

Give me my chisel!

No!

Give it to me!

She had a miscarriage.

She'll recover quickly, at her age.

You mustn't worry.

But you?

Look at yourself!

Why are you still here...

It's me.

It's me.

I'm here.

It'll be okay.

I wanna go home.

You can't in this condition.

It's too far.

It's too dangerous.

I need to see my mother.

My grandmother.

No. You can't go.

I don't want you to go.

I'll take care of you.

What do you want?

Is your son here?

No.

Do you know where Tehura is?

I don't know.

Go!

Go!

Repatriated as a pauper?

I'm worried about your health.

You must return to France.

If you get treatment there,

you can come back.

I can't leave.

I'm staying put.

To work as a docker?

It pays the rent!

You don't even paint anymore.

Here.

Keep it.

You don't have to sign now.

Where'd you get those?

They're 30 francs.

30 francs.

I'd rather you didn't go out today.

Okay?

What are you doing here?

Waiting for you.

I'm going back to France.

I know.

In 1893, Paul Gauguin was repatriated to Paris

by the Ministry of the Interior as an "artist in distress."

He exhibited 41 Tahitian paintings at the Durand-Rue! Gallery,

to mixed reviews.

After visiting friends in Brittany and his family in Copenhagen,

he returned to Tahiti, then the Marquesas.

He painted some of the greatest masterpieces of modern art.

He died, alone and destitute, on May 8, 1903.

He never saw Tehura again.

Subtitles by Rosemary Ricchio