Surviving Picasso Page #8

an assortment

of beautiful women

awaiting your every pleasure.

The older I get,

the younger and more ardent

is my imagination.

Of course, when I was 25,

I did not need imagination.

You've loved women

even more than I have,

but you haven't

hated them at all.

I leave that to you.

I have a present for you.

For me?

As soon as I saw it,

I thought of you.

A present for me.

Lydia, bring in our funny new

friend to meet Mr. Picasso.

Monsieur Matisse has been waiting

for you to come and claim it.

Matisse:
Put it in

monsieur Picasso's car.

Unfortunately, there's

no room in the car.

It's full of francoise's mess.

I'll send marcel

for it tomorrow.

Put it over your head.

What is it?

Well, go on. It won't hurt you.

It's a ceremonial headdress

used for magical invocations.

Yeah. That's right.

It is from the nevinbumbaau

Vanuatu tribe.

He likes it!

Ha ha ha!

Matisse:
Isn't it

exactly Picasso?

I don't see why he

should give me such a...

An ugly thing.

He thought you'd like it.

Yeah?

He's very fond of you.

Really?

Really.

You think so?

Ha. You think he likes me?

Monsieur Matisse

loves you, monsieur.

Go get the idol tomorrow, then.

This time,

we double the stakes.

Hey, hey, hey, hey!

I've already dealt the cards.

Well, I told you

to wait for me.

Double the stakes, by the way.

Ha ha ha!

Hey!

How do you like my woman?

You're jealous now, huh?

What did you say?!

She wants to sleep with me!

You haven't slept

with a real chauffeur?

Wha-ha-ha!

She's a good driver, huh?

Marcel, look out!

Marcel!

You're late.

Where's my car?

Where's my car?

Monsieur, there's

been a little accident.

A little?

Scratch? Fender bent?

I warned you the next

time you get drunk

and there's as much as a

scratch on my car, you're out.

Now, tell me, where is it?!

It's in a ditch.

My new car's in the ditch?

You two drunken sods have

left my car in the ditch?

See, what happened was...

I know what happened.

You were sitting

in Chez Jacques,

getting drunk

on your eternal pastis!

Well, this is it. My car is

finished, and so are you.

You're not fit

to be my chauffeur.

You're only fit to

lead this idiot astray.

He's my son.

Unfortunately,

I can't get rid of him.

He's around my neck

for the rest of my life,

but you, you're finished!

Oh, but you can't.

Who asked you?

Monsieur, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry.

It was my fault.

You take the next train

to Paris.

Tell sabartes what

is due on your wages

after deducting the cost

of the damages to my car.

I don't ever

want to see you again.

Monsieur, I'm very sorry.

It was my fault,

but I've been with you all

these years, 25 years.

25 years too long.

Bring that upstairs.

You mean after all this time...

what?

After everything I've been

to you, you'd fire me?

Yes, I'm firing you.

I should have known.

I warn you...

The day will come

and you will have no one left,

not even francoise.

You'll see.

One day she'll have had enough.

She'll walk out on you.

Francoise:
Picasso had begun making

ceramics at the vallauris potteries,

and his work there

was playful and pretty.

Some said too pretty.

He protested,

"they want to be shocked,

and if I smile,

they're disappointed."

Besides the fascination

of working in a new medium,

the potteries held another

fascination for him.

Picasso:
You see,

to make a woman...

You first

have to wring her neck.

He says, "to make a woman,

you have to wring

her neck first."

To me, he said that

about a dove.

It's all the same to him.

A thing's a thing.

Aah!

Ol.

Sleep well, papa!

Ol.

Why aren't you asleep?

I was waiting for you.

Were you spying on me?

Look, I come and go

how and when I want.

I didn't say you couldn't.

I was worried.

Paulo might have

had too much to drink

and smashed up the car.

Who knows? Anything

could happen.

In front of my friends,

embarrassing me.

Your friends?

Yes!

I saw only one friend.

So, what business

is it of yours

if there was one friend

or a hundred of them, huh?

I go where I want.

I see who I want.

Yes, and I sleep or don't

sleep with who I want.

Why didn't you go to bed,

where you should

have been hours ago?

You look tired.

Well, it's hardly worth it now.

It's almost time for you

to go and light the stove

in the studio, or it

won't be fit to work in.

It's one damned annoyance

after the other for me.

Francoise:
Picasso could never

keep a new affair a secret

because as soon as he

had a new woman in his life,

a new face began to appear

in his paintings.

Now it was jacqueline from

the vallauris potteries,

but, as always, when

he changed directions,

as when he changed

from Marie-therese to dora,

there was a certain

ambiguity in his work,

maybe expressing a general

restlessness and discontent.

He had appointed Paulo

to be his chauffeur.

He said, "let him be useful for the first

and probably the last time in his life."

They would spin

around the midi,

and reports would reach me

via obliging friends

of where Picasso had been

seen and with whom.

I still don't see why

we can't go with you.

I told you. The air in Paris

is no good for the children.

They're much better off here.

What about the things

I told you to do,

like supervising him so he doesn't

break all my best pieces?

Oh!

Uhh!

Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!

Don't you want us

to be with you?

Yeah.

Don't you think we

ought to be together?

We are together.

We're always together.

Hey!

Big boy!

Hey!

Ha ha ha.

Hello?

Hello?

Is that francoise?

Yes?

Father.

I have something to tell you...

What?

Pierre...

My father telephoned.

My grandmother's had a stroke.

She's paralyzed.

I haven't seen

or spoken to my father

since I walked out

of his house.

You can catch the 11:45 train.

I'll take you to the station.

How can I go to Paris?

He'll be furious.

Who'll be furious?

Picasso. He's left me with

a million things to do.

Get the children ready.

I'll pick you up

at the house in an hour.

You have to go.

You don't know what he's like

if anyone goes

against his orders.

This isn't the francoise

I used to know.

A hundred picassos

couldn't order her around.

Go and pack.

Go.

Father!

She died last night.

I was waiting for you

before deciding on the

funeral arrangements.

Operator:
I'm sorry,

but the number you dialed

has been disconnected.

Man:
Hello?

Hello. May I speak to

madame berthier, please?

Who is this?

You don't know me.

I'm the granddaughter of

a great friend of hers.

Madame berthier

died 3 years ago.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I had no idea.

Good-bye.

Francoise:
All

her friends are gone.

I can't find a soul.

Well, when you live to a ripe

old age, that's what happens.

There's no one left

to come to your funeral.

When this is all over,

we have a lot of financial

business to discuss.

There's only you and me now.

We must talk about the

children, about their schools.

Is there really no one else?

No.

Have a look.

What about all

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