Final Portrait

In 1964,

I was a young writer living in Paris.

I had written a few articles

about Alberto Giacometti,

who was one of the most accomplished

and respected artists of his generation.

I had become good friends with Giacometti

and his brother, Diego.

And one day, after an exhibition,

he asked me to sit for a portrait.

He told me it would take no longer

than two to three hours.

An afternoon at the most.

Oh, the exhibition was just beautiful.

I don't think he's ever really happy.

Uh, but he asked me to pose for him.

Yes, exactly,

then I'll be back in a few...

Yeah.

Oh, he said it'd be very quick.

Excuse me.

Okay.

Ah, hello, Jim!

Hello, Annette. How's it going?

- It's going well. And you?

- Good thanks, very good

Okay. I'm going to Le Dome.

Would you like to join me?

I would,

but we're about to start...

- Ah, yes, you're my husband's next victim.

- Mm.

- Have fun.

- Enjoy your lunch.

Okay, is it too small...?

- Ah, Jim.

- Diego. Hello.

- I heard you were coming.

- How's it going?

Ah, I'm okay, okay.

- What's this?

- I just made this base.

But, uh, it might be a little, uh...

Yes.

Whew.

It's hopeless.

Okay.

No.

You have the head of a brute.

- Gee, thanks.

- Yeah. You look like a real thug.

Thank you.

If I was to paint you as I see you now

and a policeman was to see this painting,

you'd be thrown in jail, like that.

- Perhaps we shouldn't continue.

- No, no, no.

It's all right. I'll never be able

to paint you as I see you.

- Are you sure?

- Yes, of course.

It's impossible.

Just so you know, it is also

impossible to ever finish a portrait.

What do you mean?

Well, portraits used to be finished.

They had to be.

They were necessary.

It was a substitute for a photograph.

Now, portraits have no meaning.

So, what we're doing is meaningless?

Mm. And impossible.

And I'm not even doing it.

I can only ever try to do it.

So on that note,

shall we stop for the day?

- Pff. It's a start.

- Yes. Yeah, yeah. Um, uh...

It's not done yet.

You can come back tomorrow, right?

- Sure, sure, but I... I have the...

- Good. You have what?

I've got the flight the next day

is the only thing.

- Oh, that's fine.

- That gives us enough time?

- Yes.

- All right, sure. So same time tomorrow?

- Sure, sure. Thank you.

- No, no, thank you.

Well, we'll see if you thank me tomorrow

after I torture you some more.

You've made progress.

I don't know

if "progress" is the right word.

- What's the right word?

- Shitty!

- Caroline, you know James?

- James, no. Ah, James.

- Yes, nice to see you.

- Hello, James.

- Uh, so, Alberto, I'll see you tomorrow?

- Yes. Good, good.

- Thank you.

- No, thank you.

- He is still here.

- Come on.

Does he not want to leave?

Hang on.

And there!

Again. Again, again, again, again. Again.

Go on, now.

Each night, after working with me,

Giacometti would work with Caroline,

a prostitute with whom he'd been

openly carrying on a relationship

for three years.

Are you done?

She'd become his primary model,

his nighttime companion...

and his obsession.

- I have to say, I will miss Paris as well.

- Yeah.

Mm.

- Excuse me. I'll see you in a minute.

- Hello, James.

- Hello, Pierre.

- James.

- How's it going?

- I saw the portrait.

- Oh, and?

- Well...

Pierre thinks

he'll never be able to sell it.

It's more to do with the subject

than the painting.

Anyway,

I'm not going to give it to you, Pierre.

- I'm going to give it to Lord.

- And rightly so.

It's coming along superbly.

It could be your best.

Oh, now you say that,

I'm probably going to wreck it.

- You take a coffee?

- I would love one, thank you.

- No, we have to go back to work.

- Oh.

- Nice to see you, Pierre.

- It's a shame.

Have a nice day.

What are you doing?

Do you mind?

Oh, f***!

Don't know how to do anything.

Wait. You can stay, right?

- I was supposed to leave tomorrow.

- Oh.

No, but I could...

Another day or...?

A day or two at the most, and then

if it doesn't turn out to be any good,

I can give up painting forever.

- Don't laugh.

- Sorry.

Have you always been like this?

- Like what?

- So doubtful of your own ability.

Of course. It gets worse every year.

But you become more successful every year.

What better breeding ground

for doubt than success?

Hmm?

- Don't smile.

- Well, you did.

- No, I didn't.

- You did.

I did not smile.

Oh, f***!

This is going really badly. Hmm.

There's no question

of finishing it, so...

- Then why are we here?

- What?

- I... I said, then why are we here?

- It's useful for me.

It's what I deserve, I suppose,

after 35 years of dishonesty.

That's what I am. I'm dishonest.

I'm a... I'm a liar.

Dishonesty? How do you mean?

All these years

that I've been showing things.

They were all... they were all unfinished.

Probably shouldn't have been started

in the first place.

Then again, if I hadn't shown them,

I would have felt like a coward, so...

Ugh! I don't know. I'm neurotic.

Well, I understand that.

I had a friend who was so neurotic,

he ended up committing suicide.

- I'm sorry.

- Hmm.

Do you ever think about it?

- Suicide?

- Mm.

Every day. Of course.

It's not like I feel life is bad.

It's just that I...

I think death must be the most fascinating

experience, you know?

I'm just... I'm just curious.

The best way would be

to cut one's throat from ear to ear.

Hmm.

I don't know

if I'd have the courage to do that.

You can take sleeping pills,

but that's not really suicide, is it?

That's just...

that's just sleeping.

Cutting your wrists is nothing.

The one that really appeals to me

is burning yourself alive.

That would be something.

That I would really like to do.

Well, do it or shut up.

- I might.

- Oh, my God.

I might, so I don't have to listen to you

talk about it anymore.

- Please do it.

- I would.

The only problem is,

you can only do it once.

- Jesus!

- What? It's only a million.

- Due. Two million.

- Well, there's some for you.

- Oh.

- A little for me.

And the rest, I'll keep... boff!

- Oh, God. What a ham.

- What?

I thought you were without affectation.

- Was that affected?

- A little bit.

- Yeah, but it was funny.

- True.

I have several million hidden in here.

- Where?

- Pff. That's the problem.

It's so f***ing well hidden,

I don't know where it is.

Why on earth would you hide

two million more?

- What else could I do with it?

- You put it in the bank.

- Oh, no. Can't trust banks.

- Can't trust banks. No.

You're Swiss.

No. Swiss Italian.

Oh, for God's sakes.

Under the bed is not such a great idea.

What do you think?

- I think it's fairly obvious.

- But I want to be able to find it again.

Uh...

How about under the dresser?

Ooh.

- I could tape it to the bottom.

- You could.

- Will I remember that?

- I don't know.

How about up here on the beam?

Here, you do it. You're taller.

Just right up there?

What do you think?

I can still see it.

Bring it down again.

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