Final Portrait Page #3

- No, no, he's not here.

- We're supposed to have the...

- Do you know when he'll be back?

- No. He disappeared.

- Long ago or...?

- I don't know.

- He'll come back some time.

- Eventually, I guess.

I'm reading a new book.

One of mine?

God, no. No.

What's it called?

It's called

The Spy Who Came In From The Cold.

Mm. What's it about?

Uh... it's about a spy...

who comes in...

from the cold.

You could be a spy.

I am a spy.

Hey, um, what...?

What...?

Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?

- I have to junk all this stuff!

- What? No, no, no.

- No, wait a minute. No.

- Yes.

- No, no, no. Let's look at...

- No!

- Diego, please.

- They're no good. They're not usable.

The paper is too old.

- Diego.

- Alberto.

What?

I go to the lithographer, all right?

I want to talk to him

about transferring this stuff to stone.

He says, "This paper is too old."

They're perfectly valid as drawings.

No! I did these as lithographs.

They were meant to be lithographs

and this is what they now cannot be.

He can go f*** himself.

Oh, sh*t!

You burned some drawings

that were on regular paper.

- I did?

- Mm.

- Did I?

- Mm.

James?

Sit down.

Whew.

I was glad

when that day's session was over.

Giacometti was miserable

and his mood was pervasive.

I was to find out that evening

that Caroline had gone missing.

- But where'd she go?

- Who knows where she goes?

- Wherever her pimp or pimps tell her to.

- Mm.

Cheers.

He's too attached to her.

- Who, Alberto?

- Yeah. He goes crazy without her.

- He makes himself go crazy.

- Yeah, why?

My brother can only be happy

when he is desperate and uncomfortable

in every part of his life.

Well, he should be very happy, then.

But it's like he's determined

to remain completely unsatisfied.

No, not completely, just perfectly.

Yeah.

- She's beautiful.

- Who, Caroline?

No, no, well, yes, but...

- The bird you made me. Thank you.

- Oh. Yeah, you're welcome.

She'll never fly, however.

Oh, sh*t.

F***ing hell!

Alberto!

Have you ever killed anyone?

- Excuse me?

- Have you ever killed anyone?

No. Why do you ask?

I think you're the sort of

person who's capable of doing anything,

and I mean that as a compliment.

Thank you.

What about you?

Have you ever killed anyone?

Mm.

In my mind, I've killed many people.

- Anyone I know?

- No. No one I know, either.

- Who are these poor souls?

- Just people.

Women.

- Really?

- Yes.

Before I could go to sleep,

when I was young,

every night I'd fantasize

about killing two women.

After I raped them.

Oh.

And... and this helped you fall asleep?

Yes. It comforted me.

F***!

Work on the background

or the body for a while.

No! Everything has to happen

in its own time.

If I paint the background or the body

just to be doing something,

I'd just be filling in space.

It would be wrong.

And then I'd have to abandon

the whole portrait completely.

- Don't... don't do that. That's...

- That's what I should do.

I should just abandon

the whole thing, the whole picture.

I know it's taking a long time.

Yes, I know that I said that I...

Listen, if you're just gonna berate me,

I'm gonna hang up.

Well...

The line dropped. Say that again.

No, I have no control over it.

Yes, thank you.

I know it's not brain surgery.

And thank you for minimizing the process.

- Hello?

- Hello.

I'd like to change a reservation, please.

- Czanne was right.

- About what?

Squaring everything.

Everything is a cone

or a cylinder or a sphere.

- I guess you're right.

- You what?

- I said I guess you're right.

- I know I'm right.

Czanne was the last great painter.

It was just too bad

the Cubists took him so literally.

- The Cubists produced very pretty things.

- Oh, who needs pretty?

Then they realized they'd reached

a dead end and gave up.

Picasso and Braque

were the really guilty ones.

Right, but Picasso moved on.

Oh, yes, so that he could copy

every great artist that ever lived.

- Well...

- It's true.

- I know, but every artist copies.

- Yes, but you do it as an exercise.

- It's just an exercise.

- Oh, Alberto.

- What?

- I think you're being a bit harsh.

No, it's true.

I'm telling you, I promise you.

Picasso could be so pompous.

"I was unable to reach

the top of the scale of values,

so I smashed the scale."

Oh, that's bullshit.

- He really said that?

- Of course he did. Who else would say it?

Picasso's always making statements

like that, you know.

At first they sound like

they're so full of wit,

but they're full of sh*t.

They have absolutely no meaning.

- Well, he's rather fond of you.

- No, he's not.

- I thought you were friendly.

- We were for a while.

But, you know, I let that go.

Yeah, but didn't he ask for your opinion

on a sculpture he was working on

and then changed it after...?

- Who told you that?

- Dora Maar.

What'd she say?

She said he came to you,

asked your opinion and...

Let me tell you what happened.

He came to me.

He said, "I want your opinion."

I said, "Okay, I think, you know,

you should make a change."

And he made a change...

to the exact opposite of what I suggested.

- Ah.

- Because he has no interest whatsoever

in the ideas of collaboration

or artistic camaraderie, you know.

He's too insecure.

He just likes to steal other people's work

and pretend that they're his own ideas.

Mm.

The man's a thief.

I decided to take up swimming

as a way to relieve

not only the physical strain of posing

but what was slowly becoming

a psychological strain as well.

One morning after my swim,

I was invited to see

the ceiling of the opera house

that Chagall had just painted.

The magnificence of the work left me

feeling lighter than I'd felt in days.

Then, I went to sit for Giacometti.

Oh, f***!

Brute.

Oh, f***!

- Alberto.

- What?

- Stop a bit.

Yeah, why? Look at this. It's hopeless.

The head is all lopsided. It's a mess!

I saw the Chagall ceiling this morning.

- At the opera?

- Mm.

- You did?

- Mm-mm.

I can't wait. Alberto is taking me

to the opening tomorrow night.

I can't wait for you to see it.

You're going to love it.

- Is it magnificent?

- Exquisite.

- I'm sure.

- It's amazing.

Apparently he did the whole thing

by painting...

Stop moving around.

Sorry.

And don't scratch.

- I had an itch.

- Well, don't itch.

You know what?

I bought a new dress for it.

- It's going to be quite a gala, I hear.

- Mm-mm.

- Annette!

- Yes, darling?

Ugh!

Yes, of course.

So where did you get the dress?

In a very nice shop.

It's a very nice dress.

It's yellow with a bit of pink.

And I bought the shoes.

They are so nice.

Do they have a heel on them?

Yes, it's yellow with pink flowers.

They have high heels.

I think it's very ni...

Beautiful.

- Can I take that?

- If it is finished.

Yes, it's finished.

Chagall.

Opera.

F***ing house painting.

You can't compare that

to what I'm trying to do here.

Oh, f***!

Okay. Let's just stop there

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