Girl With A Pearl Earring

Woman:
Griet.

Leave that.

- Griet?

- Father.

Father:
Do you remember?

You watched me paint it.

I never thought our family

would come to this.

Food may be strange

to your stomach.

Keep clear of their Catholic prayers.

Or if you must be with them

when they pray...

stop your ears.

- Girl #1:
Give it.

- Girl #2:
I got Cornelia's too.

- Give it back.

- Stop it!

Girl #1:
You did not get it.

I did.

Do you know the house

of Master Vermeer?

Tell Tanneke

the new maid is here.

Woman:
You took your time.

Lose your way, did you?

Young mistress is out

this morning.

I'm to show you round.

Water for the table.

Take water from the canal

for laundry.

It's clean enough

this side of town.

Soda...

coppers, boiler...

sand and soap.

In cooking kitchen you're to help

serve and clear,

buy fish and meat...

when young mistress

don't want to.

You'll take your meals

with me and the children.

That's your sleeping place.

Scour the pots and pans.

Young mistress and master sleep

and have company here.

You'll get used to it.

You're to clean in there.

Not now!

He's painting.

(mice squeaking)

(light tapping)

(water boiling)

(clucking)

Good morning, madam.

Don't speak till

you're spoken to.

Tanneke showed you what needs

to be done? The laundry and so on?

Yes, madam.

This is only a trial.

Nothing is settled yet.

I...

my husband does...

Go in.

Go in.

Disturb nothing.

Leave all just as it is.

Open the shutters,

you can't work in the dark.

You're not the first to forget

your manners in front of his paintings.

Tell me, girl...

do you think it finished?

Three months.

Another three before he's satisfied,

no doubt.

Well get along, girl.

You're not paid

to stand gawping all day.

Man:
Good to see you.

- Tanneke:
Are you well?

- Man:
Yeah.

- Can we go?

- Here's my man.

Paul.

This is Griet,

the new maid.

She'll fetch the meat now.

So, Griet...

what takes your fancy?

Nothing is too good

for this family?

An ox tongue

and a dozen chops.

Pieter...

chops...

In the book again?

There you are.

This meat's not fresh.

The mistress won't like it.

Pieter.

Get the parcel

on the cart.

That's better.

We'll see you again, Griet.

Yes.

Woman:
No!

Man:
I'll take that.

Make way now.

- What is it?

- Bankrupt.

They've lived next door

for as long as I can remember.

The shame.

Lost everything.

Watch out for young mistress.

She hates money troubles.

She'll turn spiteful at this,

you mark my words.

Mistress:
The last time you said it was

done you kept it another six months!

Man:
It will be done soon.

Mistress:
Oh yes, soon.

But when is soon?

Next month, next year?

It's all the same to you,

if your children starve

and your wife is dressed in rags.

When you sit up there

and suck at your paintbrush...

Man:
You're being ridiculous.

I'm going out.

Mistress:
No, Jan,

don't you dare leave.

(steps, slamming door)

One year it got so bad,

they had to sell some of their jewels.

You could imagine

how that pleased her.

She smashed half the china...

went to spoil

one of his precious paintings.

Well, he's a temper on him too

for all he's so quiet.

She's not set so much as a foot

in his studio from that day to this.

(door opens, steps)

(woman screaming in pain)

(screaming)

There you are.

Fetch some water.

Hail Mary, Mother of God,

pray for us sinners now

and at the hour of our death.

Tanneke:
Six babies. Why does

she have to make such a racket?

Woman:
Just get on with the work.

- Push!

- (screaming)

Woman:
I need more rags, girl.

Woman:
More rags.

(panting)

(screaming)

Woman:
Push, push!

Woman:
Good, that's good!

Mistress:
Oh, Jan,

isn't he just like you?

Woman:
Johannes, that's it.

Look at him,

he's your little brother.

(blessing in Latin)

(baby crying)

Take this to the house of your master's

patron, Pieter van Ruijven.

Man:
To the left.

Man:
Open up,

there's a lady coming in.

That's it.

Van Ruijven:

So, finished at last.

Honored guest.

It's the old woman's idea to combine

the birth feast and the viewing.

She is a tight fist.

I won't turn out

for small beer and biscuits, tell her.

Me and the brat

deserve a proper feast.

You have a very wide eyes.

What do they call you?

- Griet.

- Griet?

Griet.

Your master is a fine painter,

Griet.

The finest in Delft.

He's painted me.

Perhaps that will be

my epitaph.

Look at that dress.

You can almost stroke

the satin.

And the wine winkling

through the glass.

Can you imagine yourself

in such finery, Griet?

She loved it, you know.

Lace and satin pressed tight

against the plump little bubbies.

The silk, heavy on her thighs.

The gentlemen watching.

My God, she was happy.

She thought she was somebody.

All dressed up like a lady.

Green as grass,

mind you.

She had only worked there

a few months

before Master Van Ruijven

brought her over to be painted.

Got her into that fine red dress.

Poured wine down her

like he was forcing a goose.

That dress

can't have stayed on long.

She was carrying his by-blow

before the painting was dry.

He thinks we don't know

how to celebrate a birth, does he?

Tanneke:
Come on, keep up.

Butcher:
Come on now, my little one.

I've got a lovely apple for you.

The price was three guilders,

I'm sure of that.

Three guilders...

thank you.

(knocking)

Why are you here?

A nice greeting, when I brought

the meat order just for you.

Better carry it through.

Not even a smile

for my pains?

Not today.

Come on.

I'll put it in the book, then.

Owed by Griet...

one smile.

Man:

And don't they look marvelous?

Welcome,

Master Van Ruijven.

Van Ruijven:
Mistress Thins.

(applause)

Friends and neighbors,

our honored guest,

Master Van Ruijven...

not only

are we gathered tonight

to celebrate the safe delivery

into this world,

praise be to God,

of little Franciscus,

but also to rejoice

at another birth,

a new masterpiece

from the hand of my son-in-law

Johannes Vermeer.

Is this Indian yellow?

Distilled from the urine

of sacred cows

fed only on mango leaves.

You've glazed my wife

in dried piss.

It was the right color.

No stinting, eh?

I cannot bear the suspense

a moment longer, Master Van Ruijven.

Pray tell us

what you think.

This is good.

Color and perspective is true,

the illusion... is perfect.

All this skill lavished

on my dear Emilie.

Why...

it's almost as if...

she were thinking.

And have you considered

the subject for your next commission?

We cannot expect you to give up Emilie

for so long again.

Considered? It's already in hand.

Didn't I tell you?

A coming fellow

from Amsterdam.

Studied under

Rembrandt van Rijn,

though, who hasn't

these days?

"A Merry Company by Candlelight,"

candlelight being his forte.

So, have you decided

what to daub next, Jan?

Have you found inspiration up

in that room of yours?

Is there another patron in Delft

with pockets as deep as mine?

I've not yet found a subject.

(thunder roaring)

(baby crying)

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