Lust for Life Page #6

you cut them off...

and you spend the rest of your life

wondering if it was worthwhile.

If they're mad enough

to buy Impressionist paintings...

it only proves that they're savages.

I haven't seen the place looking so neat

since Vincent came to stay here.

What got into him, cleaning it up like this?

I do hope he's out.

Never would get any business done

if he's in.

What is it?

It's from Vincent.

"I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you,

and endlessly...

"grateful for all your kindness.

"I've hung a few paintings

to remind you of me."

- He's gone?

- He's on his way south to Arles, Provence.

"I've thought it over

these past few weeks...

"and decided the time has come

to make a change.

"I want to see nature under a clearer sky.

"Have to work by myself for a while."

No offense meant, but you'll be better off

without him around your neck.

I think I'm the best judge of that.

No, the worst.

You've been pushing his paintings.

And every time you do that,

we lose a customer.

As your employer,

I tell you for your own good...

your love for Vincent has blinded

your judgment. It's affected your work.

Please don't let's wrangle again

about that.

I'll fight for every good painter

who deserves to be recognized...

and Vincent is one of them.

He could be the best of them.

What? Well, you're his brother.

- You're emotional about him.

- That has nothing to do with it.

What is it when you brood about him?

When you agonize over his every failure?

When you support him

to the point of denying yourself?

You've saved every letter he wrote

as though it were Holy Scripture.

Come now, Theo. Don't you really think

you've done enough for him?

How much is enough...

for a man who's struggling with himself

the way Vincent is?

I know he's crude, quarrelsome,

and excitable...

but inside that tormented head of his

there's something wonderful.

In those letters, there's a gifted man,

a tender man...

and there's far more passionate beauty

and strength in his work...

than there is in half the stuff

you see in the museums today.

Wonder if there'll ever come

a happy time for him.

It seems impossible for him

to have a quiet life.

The change may do him good.

Maybe he'll find himself.

Or will he only find more loneliness?

This is it.

At that, it's worth

more than you're willing to pay.

- Anything else?

- No, thanks.

That'll be 8 francs for the week.

Get these pictures out of here!

- I told you a week ago.

- Don't touch that, you fool!

Can't you see it's still wet?

You're getting paint over everything.

That's why I raised your rent.

You had no right to do it

without telling me.

Whoever heard of a storage fee

for using a landing?

- Then get your stuff out of here!

- I will not!

Then pay me!

- Allow me.

- No, don't.

With your permission.

- Looks like you're moving.

- I'm getting out of that hellhole.

Here. I think you need some help.

That swine of a landlord.

Here you are.

I wondered how long you'd stand him.

Where do you think you're going

with all this stuff?

I don't know.

You're gonna have to find some place

before night.

I'd ask you to stay with me,

but it's a bit crowded with a wife...

- and four kids and one on the way...

- Thanks, anyway.

How'd you like a house?

- Too expensive.

- Perhaps not.

Come along, let me do the talking.

If there's one thing I hate, it's landlords.

Come along.

You wouldn't want a dump like that.

It should've been pulled down years ago.

Hey, wait a minute!

What are you trying to do to me...

talking like that about my property?

Is that what you're looking for, a house?

This is a fine house.

Look, my sister lived in it for 17 years

and then she died. God bless her.

That's what I mean.

Would you want me to show it to you?

How long would you want it for?

He won't want it at all,

not when he's seen it.

Now, look here, mind your own business

or I'll report you.

I'll let you have it at a good price, too.

How about 15 francs a month?

You stay out of this.

On top of that, I'll let you have

the use of an extra room.

A house, Theo. I found a house.

A place of my own

where I can work without a trouble.

And where there's plenty of room.

Roulin lent me a mattress to get started,

and I bought some chairs and a bed...

and a few other things

that were necessary.

With this and with what I spent

on paints and canvas...

my money for the month is almost gone.

But it was worth it.

Theo, you'd like this house.

It's yellow on the outside

and filled with sunshine.

Later, two could live in it.

One day, perhaps, Gauguin will come...

and then, who knows,

this might turn into a colony of painters.

I'm up at dawn and out on the road.

Now that summer's begun,

it's all very different here...

from what it was in the spring.

But I love it even more.

Everywhere is old gold, bronze,

and copper.

I wish you could see

these lovely days here, Theo.

But if not, you shall see pictures of them...

for these colors

give me an extraordinary exultation.

The whole earth is glowing

under the southern sun.

Lemon yellow, sulfur yellow,

greenish yellow...

all under a sky blanched with heat.

What a country it is.

It absorbs me so much

that I let myself go...

never thinking of a single rule.

I have no doubts, no limitations.

I'm working like a steam engine,

devouring paints, burning up canvases.

Whole days go by

without my speaking to anyone.

And every day my concentration

becomes more intense...

my hand more sure.

I have a power of color in me

that I never had before.

A sense of breadth and strength.

The summer has vanished

in a fever of work.

And now the mistral is blowing.

Always the wind, restless and unceasing.

Sweeping among the dead leaves

in a rage...

so that I'm forced to remain indoors.

Now and then,

when the storm inside me gets too loud...

I take a glass too much to distract me.

I must watch out for my nerves.

I'm getting haggard, I know.

If I go on this way...

some day or other there may be a crisis.

Yet I can't stop.

Sometimes I work on into the night.

And I'm hardly conscious

of myself anymore...

and the pictures come to me

as in a dream, with a terrible lucidity.

- What time did he get here?

- About 4:
00 this morning.

As usual, two coffees, three absinthes.

- Did he eat anything?

- What do you think?

- Good morning.

- Good morning, Roulin.

I brought something for you.

From your brother.

What I want to know is,

when do I get paid?

I don't mind carrying him for a day or two,

but this time it's over two weeks.

I must be as crazy as he is.

What do you think this is, a reading room?

- How much does he owe?

- 13 francs.

Here's 10 francs. Shut up.

Now. Here, let me give you a hand.

Come along.

Where were you painting last night?

We were looking for you everywhere,

all over the place. Couldn't find you.

- Theo's leaving.

- What?

No, it's good news. He's getting married.

That's wonderful.

Let's go right back and celebrate.

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