Lust for Life Page #8

commit a crime.

What's all of this talk

about Arlesian women?

- I haven't seen a good one yet.

- They must have heard you were coming...

- and they locked them up.

- Yeah.

Wait till you see.

There's something about them...

the way they carry themselves...

even the old ones,

a certain classic grace and dignity.

Dignity? I'm talking about women, man.

Women.

I like them fat, vicious, and not too smart.

Nothing spiritual, either.

To have to say "I love you"

would break my teeth.

I don't want to be loved.

You really mean that, Paul.

Let's get out of here.

Show me the rest of the town.

Wait a minute. Here.

You pig! Kill him! Tear him apart!

You pig!

You didn't tell me the ballet was in town.

Wait a minute. You're tired.

There. That's more like it.

Now the town's coming to life.

Come on. Stop it.

Stop that. Get her out of here.

And you, I don't want any more trouble

in this place. See?

Come on, now get out.

I told the Captain

I wouldn't return until tomorrow.

- Pierre.

- Hello, Vincent, my friend.

- Hello, redhead. Where have you been?

- Hello, Rachel.

- I thought you must have gone away.

- I've been working.

What's the matter?

Don't you like me anymore?

Hi. Buy me a drink?

My friend's come to town.

I've been getting the place ready for him.

- That tough?

- No, he's a painter, like me.

Thanks, sir.

- He's not like you, redhead.

- Hey, Vincent.

Look, a masterpiece,

direct from the salons. See?

Symbolism. Better send it to Theo

before the Louvre grabs it.

Paul, this is Rachel.

Vincent, why do I do it?

Here I pride myself

on my sense of logic and order...

and inside I'm a savage.

I have this attraction to violence.

Violence makes me sick.

I have too much inside me. I'm afraid of it.

That's why I let it out before it hurts me.

Last winter in Martinique...

I got into a fight with some sailors.

I was in the hospital for a month.

But it was worth it.

Even that piddling brawl out there...

made me feel better than I have in weeks.

And I know why.

Because suddenly

there's something in front of you...

something you can hit at.

He stands there, you smash his teeth in,

or he does it to you.

Either way, it's all right.

There's a decision.

- Two absinthes.

- Right away.

Three absinthes.

- Is everything all right?

- Yes, brigadier.

Dear Theo, I'm so happy

to have Gauguin here.

Not to be alone anymore.

It's of tremendous value to me

to see him work.

He's a very great artist, and a good friend.

Paul.

It doesn't seem to work. Doesn't work.

Paul, could you come over

and take a look?

Vincent, I'm trying to catch this light.

I remember what you said.

I soften my colors, I try to control them.

- Then I lose everything.

- Go back and try again.

That's what I mean.

You see how pale and thin that sky is?

You use the same brush strokes all over.

- It's got no texture, no energy. It's all flat.

- That's the way I see it!

Flat!

We argue, of course,

mainly about painting.

And our arguments are so electric...

that I come out of them often

with my brain tired...

like a run-down battery.

- What are you nervous about?

- We should be out there working.

- Look at that sunlight, Gauguin.

- Yeah.

- Listen to that wind.

- Wind doesn't show in a painting.

- What about it?

- I'm doing fine right here...

or I would be if you'd only like some place.

I'm tired of being cooped up here.

It wouldn't hurt you to work inside

for once.

- Use your imagination, invent.

- Why should I invent here...

when nature does it so much better

out there?

Go out there then, who's stopping you?

This is ridiculous. I can't work like this!

Tie down your easel.

No wonder they call you crazy

around here.

Come on, Vincent, let's get out of here.

Give it up! You can't paint in this gale.

- I've done it plenty of times.

- Yes, and I've seen the results.

I'm going back. I'm sick of all this.

The sun burns the eyes out of your head.

The stinking mistral blows you to pieces.

I'm sick of this whole miserable

countryside. And that house, too.

I don't know what I'm doing here

or why I ever came.

If that's the way you feel,

then why don't you leave?

Do you want to know why?

Because I haven't got the money.

Paul!

- Our money from Theo.

- Yeah.

- Can I pour you a drink, Paul?

- No, thanks.

Paul, all the way home, I kept thinking...

I wonder, Paul, if only we'd tried a little.

If we'd made some effort

to remain friends...

if it wouldn't have been better

for both of us.

I see you finished it.

Yes, because, Paul, when you look back...

so much of life is wasted in Loneliness.

There's not one of us

that doesn't need friends...

companionship, attachments.

I can do without attachments.

I've learned to avoid them.

How can you say that, Paul?

I mean, even you have your family.

Do you ever think of them?

Your children, you see them so seldom.

Mind your own business.

Paul, all I mean is that...

you, too, must have times

when you have a terrible...

Why don't you shut up?

If you have to slobber, don't do it over me.

You'll have no trouble finding subjects.

You mourn over a pair of old shoes.

You cry when you read Uncle Tom 's Cabin.

You bleed with Millet

over the nobility of toil.

For weeks I've been listening to that slop,

and I'm tired of it!

What do you know about toil?

When have you done

a stroke of manual labor in your life?

I have. I've dug ditches

in the stinking heat of the Tropics.

I've worked on the docks

in weather so cold...

my hands froze to the ropes.

And I can tell you there's nothing noble

or beautiful about it.

I did it so I could go on painting!

I didn't have a brother to support me!

Don't ever do that again.

Paul, where are you going?

I'm getting out

before one of us gets killed.

- Don't go.

- I'll be back for my things.

Please don't go. If you only knew

how Lonely I was before you came.

I know all about Loneliness.

Only, I don't whine about it.

- What's your name?

- Gauguin.

Your friend is in there...

dying.

- Why haven't you sent for the doctor?

- There's one on the way.

- What happened?

- His ear's been slashed off.

- What went on last night?

- I don't know. I wasn't here.

You live here.

Why did you leave?

- Did you two have a fight?

- Look, l...

Inspector, the doctor's here.

- Inspector.

- Right this way, Doctor.

- When did you find him?

- About an hour ago.

- Has he been conscious at all?

- Not at all.

It's a wonder he didn't bleed to death.

- Self-inflicted, Doctor?

- Looks that way.

What do you think, Doc?

Don't worry. You won't have

a corpse on your hands.

The thing is to get it cauterized

and cleaned.

- Gendarme, water and towels, please.

- Right away, sir.

You might as well know

that man's unbalanced.

Don't take my word for it.

Ask anyone around.

Last night, he got worse.

Just my being here

seemed to drive him out of his mind.

If I'm here when he comes to,

and he sees me, after all that's happened...

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