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They're creepy and they're kooky

Mysterious and spooky

They're altogether ooky

The Addams family

The house is a museum

When people come to see 'em

They really are a scream

The Addams family

MAN: Neat.

Sweet.

Petite.

So get a witch 's shawl on

A broomstick you can crawl on

We're gonna pay a call on

The Addams family

That Zen-Yogi is so interesting.

Not only good for your feet but your head, too.

That's right. It's really very cultural, isn't it?

Mama can have her painting.

-Painting? -She's gotten so, so arty.

She can't wait till you see it, Gomez.

Very well. Coming up.

Alley-oop! Oop!

By George, Mama! This new technique of yours is a dandy.

It does give me a feeling of release.

-That's it. You've done it. -Not quite.

It still needs a little something.

Mama, I beg you, don't tamper with perfection.

Oh, trust Mama.

GOMEZ: Superb.

It should be on exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum.

You're too kind.

But what I need is the eye of a critic.

-A critic? -Yes.

Someone who'd give an unbiased opinion of my work.

If you don't believe me you can ask Uncle Fester.

Well, he's sweet, but he has an axe to grind.

That's just for recreation.

What I need is an outsider.

Very well, Mama. I'll call in my friend, Bosley Swain.

Well, Bosley, what do you say?

Unbelievable.

I told you I knew great art.

Mr. Swain, am I expressing the real me?

Oh, it's the real you.

Couldn't be anybody else.

How sweet of you to say so.

What would you suggest as my next step?

A teacher.

Is there a teacher you could recommend for Mama?

No.

Really very nice of Bosley Swain, being so encouraging about Mama.

Mama's painting is most unusual.

Well, one thing is certain. She has her own technique.

She throws that paint with a curve.

If you do find a teacher for her, make sure he's got a good arm.

Do you think the Zen-Yogi society

will hang this picture of you in their office?

It'll fit in so perfectly with the rest of their decor.

You know, you and Mr. Swain are so flattering,

but I wish he could have recommended a teacher for me.

I've got it. The perfect teacher for you. Picasso!

Picasso? For me?

You rang?

Lurch, do you have any idea where Picasso might be?

Tahiti?

No, Lurch, that was the other painter fellow.

The one who hobnobbed with the native girls.

See what you can do on the phone, Lurch. Try France.

Yes, Mr. Addams.

I wonder what Picasso's doing now.

The last I heard, he was fiddling around with ceramics.

-Paris. -Thank you, Lurch.

Bonjour, mademoiselle. Comment ca va?

Could you connect me with Mr. Picasso, the painter?

Lurch told me you had Paris on the line.

Could you switch me over to the Folies-Bergere?

I'd like to talk to my French pen pal.

-I thought Yvonne lived in a convent. -No, she moved.

You don't talk to pen pals. You write to them.

Darn.

Oh. Well, thank you, operator.

That's odd, she never even heard of Picasso.

Mamacita!

We forgot our ancestral land!

Spain.

It's 3:00 in the morning there.

Do you suppose he'll be up?

Certainly. Everyone in Spain is up half the night dancing and funning.

Let me try it.

-Would you like to? -I'd love to.

Hello?

Yes, operator, yes, yes.

This is Picasso. Sam Picasso.

All right.

Hello?

GRANDMAMA: Mr. Picasso, the artist?

Could be. Who wants to know?

The name is Addams, from America.

From America? America? Oh, that's...

-ls this call collect? -Oh, no!

I hope I haven 't caught you at a bad time.

No. No, dear lady, no.

As a matter of fact, I wasn't doing anything important tonight.

Good.

Then how about coming to America and living with us?

Could be. But of my service, what did you have in mind?

Babysitter? Gigolo? Gardener?

Well, because I'm very good in all three of them.

I want you to teach me to paint.

Paint? Oh, paint! That's what I do better than best.

-Well, how soon can you leave? -How soon can you send me the fare?

-lmmediately. -I'm leaving.

Yankee Doodle went to town cha, cha, cha

La, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, la, la, la, la, la, la

Hello.

Hello. Who are you?

I'm Wednesday.

It's too bad what happened to your doll, eh?

She isn't a doll. She's Mary, Queen of Scots.

Grandmama was telling us what happened to her,

and my brother Pugsley chopped off her head.

PlCASSO: "Marie Antoinette."

"Little Red Riding Hood."

Little Red Riding Hood?

-She didn't die. -The way we play it she does.

-ls your family home? -They're always at home.

-I would like to see them. -You would?

Yes.

All right. Come on.

Come on.

Mother!

Father, Mr...

-Picasso. -...Picasso is here!

Addams here. Welcome to America.

-This is America? -Well, it's not all like this.

Not everyone has it this good.

Wednesday, run to Mr. Picasso's room and make sure the shades are drawn.

Yes, Father.

Here comes your pupil now, sir.

Oh, maestro. I think I'm going to faint.

Not before I do.

Gomez, darling, what's all the excitement?

My lovely wife, Morticia. The great Picasso.

I'm so glad you could come.

You know, it's strange.

I was under the impression that you were short and round and bald.

Darling, he's short and round. You can't have everything.

If there's anything you'd like, just name it.

-What's for dinner? -I'll go see.

Cocktails.

Thank you, Lurch. That's very thoughtful of you.

A vintage brew from the Addams wine cellars, Mr. Picasso.

Especially for you.

To Mr. Picasso. Long may he live.

At least a couple more days.

1916 was a great year for champagne.

I thought you might like another little snack.

-What's in it? -Pate of yak.

-Sounds delicious. -lt is. Try one.

-ls different. -Yes. Yes, it is.

By George, Mama, that is a dazzler!

I never could have done it without Mr. Picasso.

What shall I do next, Mr. Picasso?

I would suggest, senora, that you practice your brushstrokes

up and down, up and down. See how it's...

Very bad. No, no, no. Your wrist is too stiff.

Flexibility, flexibility.

Oh, yes. To get a better view you've got to move back.

As far back as upstairs. You come for dinner, eh?

Very good, very good. Keep up, keep up.

-lsn't he inspiring? -He certainly is.

Not only that, he's the only guest we've ever had

who appreciates pate of yak.

I hope that's not the ladies from the charity bazaar.

My paintings aren't nearly ready.

It's probably Bosley Swain.

I invited him over to see the improvement in your work.

-Mr. Swain. -Swain, good to see you.

I am terribly busy, but you said that your mother had a new teacher

and that I was in for a big surprise.

There it is, old man. Feast your eyes.

Who is the culprit? I mean, teacher?

-Mr. Picasso. -Picasso?

Yes. Came clear over from Spain.

Brought some of his own masterpieces. There it is.

-A genuine Picasso. -Yes, a genuine Sam Picasso.

Worth about 40 cents. This man is a bum.

Been trading on the Picasso name for 20 years.

Nonsense.

If this isn't Pablo Picasso, then we've discovered a great new talent.

Oh, come now. I'll admit he showed promise as a young man,

but he hasn't painted anything but wallpaper in years now.

Someday that wallpaper will be worth a fortune.

You take my advice. If you want a teacher, you throw this freeloader out

and take a correspondence course.

How unprofessional jealousy can twist a man's mind.

I never thought old Bosley would sink that low.

With his influence he could turn the whole art world against poor Sam.

Ruin his reputation.

-We have got to help him. -How?

We're gonna make him work, work, work

till he reveals himself to the world as the true genius that he is.

Mr. Picasso. Mr. Picasso.

-Dinner is served? -Work.

Oh, senor. Gosh, you going to ruin my appetite.

No, no, no. As a starter we'll find something simple.

Let's see. What'll it be?

Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!

You want me to work?

You're a genius, Picasso. I won't permit you to waste your talent.

From now on you're going to paint, paint, paint.

But this is ridiculous. I cannot be turned on like a kitchen faucet.

You must, old boy. You owe it to posterity.

Please, I owe enough already. Senor Gomez, believe me,

I cannot paint a stroke without brushes made from goats' hair from Tibet.

Perfect. I'll write my friend, the high lama. He'll send us all the goats we need.

And what about the canvas? You do not know, of course not,

that I use canvasses made from Egyptian cotton.

I'll have the family helicopter pick some up on the way back from Tibet.

It's still no good. I cannot paint in a living room.

-No. -No!

-No. -No!

-We fixed up a special studio just for you. -Thank you.

Come on.

Voila!You can work here without any distraction.

Won't you believe me? I love distractions.

Mr. Picasso, we'll have all your meals sent in.

-Senor, but where will I sleep? -Sleep, you say?

This one.

This is an instrument of torture.

Nonsense, Mr. Picasso. Great art is born of great suffering.

This should bring something precious out of you.

Blood.

-That's the spirit, old boy. Carry on. -But...

If you want anything, just shriek.

Let me out of here. Please. Please help. Help!

Now, now, Mr. Picasso, mustn't be lazy.

Back to your easel and just paint, paint, paint.

-How's Michelangelo doing? -He's getting comfortable.

We're gonna make a great artist out of him if it kills him.

FESTER: Hey, that's a good idea.

You know, no artist is famous until his death.

Maybe we could arrange it.

MORTlClA: No, I don't think we should, Uncle Fester.

We want Mr. Picasso to suffer for his art, but dying is going a little too far.

Mr. Picasso, relaxing from your labors?

Isn't that sweet? He and Cleopatra have found each other.

Don't get too close, old man, she's an ear nibbler.

Now, now, Cleopatra, this is no time for romance.

Mr. Picasso has work to do.

She nearly crushed me.

Quite a feather in your cap.

She's not usually so affectionate with strangers.

Now, Mr. Picasso, back to your studio.

Studio.

Come, old man. You know you're just dying to get back to work.

Senor, please, don't use that word again.

Thank you.

Querida.

Here I am, Mr. Picasso. Are you ready?

Por favor, Senor.

Give me time to write a letter to my poor little old mother.

You can do that later.

You'd better get me now while I'm in the mood to model.

You came here to model?

Well, sure. I've modeled all of Gomez's Halloween pumpkins.

He's quite a talented pumpkin carver.

Well, I'm sorry, sir. You see, I only paint apples.

Darn.

No use, Lurch. He's only painting apples.

Lunch.

Nice big boy, maybe we can make a deal?

-Deal? -To get me out of here.

-Where did you come from? -Pugsley's tunnel.

He has them all over the place.

Of course. What is a home without a secret tunnel?

I came to watch you paint.

-You like to paint, eh, Wednesday? -Sure, painting's fun.

-Watch. -Yes.

-Yeah? -You like, Mr. Picasso?

Oh, that's gorgeous, yes. By next year you will be a good Grandma Moses.

Hey, wait a minute. You said something about a tunnel, no?

Pugsley's a great tunneler. Some people think he's part gopher.

Could be, could be. Why not? Tell me.

-Where does your secret tunnel lead to? -Just outside.

Just outside?

Oh, you're right!

I'm going to take a stroll just outside.

Can I paint while you're gone?

To your heart's content.

-Kitty won't hurt you. -No?

She once ate a zookeeper and got a upset stomach. So...

-She's very careful now. -How did you know?

A little birdie, a little birdie.

A little vulture told me so.

Well, you wish me luck, eh? And you paint. You paint any time you want.

There. It's finished.

That's a beautiful vase, Uncle Fester.

That's not a vase, Gomez.

That's an urn for Grandfather Malaprop.

How thoughtful. He is getting on.

What have we here?

-Why, it's Mr. Picasso. -Where did you find him, Lurch?

Sneaking through the henbane.

Now, Mr. Picasso, we can't get our work done playing in the henbane, can we?

You know what we're going to have to do now.

Back to the pit.

GOMEZ: Penniless, her little fingers bleeding from the tuna cans,

she may return and say she's sorry.

Why, Mr. Picasso! You have been busy.

What sophistication, throwing these masterpieces around

as though they were confetti.

Superb. I knew if we worked hard we'd get it out of you.

I have seen better things gotten out of a man with a scalpel.

True genius. Never satisfied.

Look, now that you got this out of me, can I get out of here?

Nonsense, Mr. Picasso.

Not until we have our expert, Bosley Swain, look at your work.

Senora, can I leave before you show to Mr. Bosley Swain?

Certainly not.

It's so rare for an artist to be present at his own personal triumph.

Old man, this will be your finest hour.

Or my last.

Well, Bosley, what do you say now?

Incredible.

I didn't think you were capable of anything like this.

You hit me and I will report you to the Spanish consul.

Hit you. I want to congratulate you.

-You mean to say you like them? -They're masterpieces!

What childlike simplicity. And what unique subject matter.

Trees with human heads.

I told you he was great, Bosley.

All he needed was the Addams influence to bring it out.

Just think, someday they may put a plaque

in the front of our house saying,

"Sam Picasso slept here."

Who slept?

Sam, I am buying all of them.

And I'll send my man to pick them up.

This is just the beginning, Picasso.

You can stay here and work as long as you like.

Oh, no. I think I'll go back to Spain.

-Paint, paint, paint? -No, fight bull fights.

Is much safer. Adios, I think.

Adios, Picasso.

I tell you, querida, talent is contagious around here.

Why, you're another Mama.

Darling, thank you.

Tish, when you bow that way you drive me wild.

You mad Castilian.

-Mail's in. -We've got all we need.

I think I'd better get it, dear.

Thank you, Thing.

I think it's from Mr. Picasso in Spain.

-Did he really go into fighting bulls? -Oh, yes.

-Now he's back to painting them. -Wonderful.

You know, darling, he was really a very good influence.

Not only on Grandmama and on me, but on Wednesday.

You know, she's started to paint exactly like him.

Superb.

Will you look at that?

Nothing like environment.

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