Surviving Picasso Page #9

of those old boyfriends?

Stop it.

Pierre sent me a telegram.

He thought you might need me.

Genevieve!

Oh!

Pablo's in Paris.

I've got to tell him about

my grandmother's funeral.

Why? Was he your

grandmother's friend?

No, but he's the father

of my children,

her great-grandchildren,

not that I expect him to come.

He didn't even go to

his own mother's funeral.

He so abhors

any idea of mortality,

of his own mortality.

So she said...

She said, "I want you

to paint my portrait."

Those?

Papa!

What are you doing here? Hey.

Hey, where's your mother?

Where is she? Mmm!

Where's your mother?

What are they

doing up here, huh?

Pablo:
Francoise?

Why have you

come here to Paris?

Who's there to supervise Pierre

and everything else

I told you to do?

Hmm?

There's no one...

Not one human being

I can rely on.

You came here against

my express orders.

Yes, against your orders...

Because my grandmother died.

Was that against

your orders, too?

Francoise, why

didn't you tell me?

You knew I was here.

We could have been together.

Come here.

Francoise?

I want to stay here in

Paris with the children.

Yes?

Without you.

Just for a time.

Is there someone else?

No. There's no one else.

Is that all you can think of?

All right,

if there's no one else,

you must...

Stay here.

I need you.

If that were true,

I would stay,

but I know that it's not.

It's that friend of yours,

Genevieve...

Putting these ideas

in your head.

Why is she here?

Who called her to make you

even more hysterical?

How do you know she's here?

I suppose it wouldn't make any

difference to you if I left.

People come and people go.

And you will always stay,

under all circumstances?

I stay. That's my life.

I stay.

And what a life

for me and my wife,

but most people don't

even know I have a wife.

We even have

a place of our own,

where he sometimes permits me

to spend a few hours.

Don't ask me

what sort of a place...

what sort of a garret we can

afford on the salary he pays me.

And there are

my other expenses as well,

like when he summons me

to vallauris...

paying my own fare, of course,

my own train ticket.

Third class.

And his promises...

His promises.

In 1901 he painted my portrait.

He said, "this is yours,

my present to you,"

and when I asked him for it, he'd given

it away to a cabaret in Barcelona.

For 50 years he's been painting my

portrait, and always, "this is yours,"

and always I have to

remind him and beg for it.

Beg like a dog...

But still I stay.

But why?

Because if I left,

every time I came here

I'd have to ring the bell

and be admitted by some

other idiot of a sabartes

and wait just like everyone else

for my crumb of friendship.

Besides, if I'm not here,

he has to look around,

"Where the hell is sabartes?"

With me by his side...

He doesn't need

to think about me.

Even Olga was lyrical

and serene.

When was this?

Ah, 1917.

A few years later,

she's a monster.

Picasso:
A monster mouth,

full of jagged teeth, to bite,

and a tongue

to nag and nag and nag.

Then there's dora.

What could I do

about dora, hmm?

It wasn't sadism, it was, a...

A vision of hers

imposed itself on me.

Only francoise the flower

woman remains herself

without being distorted.

It is she who has distorted me.

I'll show you. Look.

It is a cockerel

lying bound to a table

with a knife that has

just cut its throat.

It's dripping blood

into a bowl.

I am that cockerel

with his throat cut...

And she is the knife.

This is her latest. She's going

to leave me, abandon me.

It's all right. I can speak

out before kahnweiler.

He's my friend.

He has feeling for me.

She's dreaming of some

mythical life of her own,

as if she could ever

have one apart from me.

You think people will care

this much for your work?

You have a schoolgirl's

facility.

That's all.

The day you leave...

That day kahnweiler will

cancel his contract with you.

Because you will tell him to.

Dora.

Do you remember me?

Ah, you've changed.

I knew you would.

Picasso is an agent of change,

a catalyst to blow everything

inside you to bits.

Yes, if you let him.

This is my friend Genevieve

from montpellier.

You don't look like someone

who lives in Paris.

And you...

You look like someone

who's been breathing in the

air of Picasso's studio.

Peculiar air.

Sometimes it seems

like poison gas,

but then you find you can't

breathe in any other.

That is not at all

the case with francoise.

I don't like cats,

but when my dog died,

he gave me a cat.

I still have it.

It's called moumoune.

He gave it that name.

It's a very vicious cat.

Look.

He'll leave you

when he's ready.

Even then, you won't

be free of him,

and after him, without

him, there is nothing.

After Picasso...

Only God.

And moumoune...

That cat just won't die.

You think anyone will care

this much for you?

You have no existence

apart from me.

Without me, you are nothing.

People will see you as nothing.

They'll forget you.

I'm having a heart attack.

It's your fault.

Call Paulo.

Paulo.

Why?

Why do you leave me

alone with this woman?

Look what she's done to me.

Call Dr. Gutmann.

It's too late for the doctor.

I never want to see you again.

Go! Get out!

Get... get out.

Paulo:
Papa, please.

Come on, for my sake.

All you need

is peace and quiet.

Nothing is worth it.

No one wants another episode.

See what she's doing?

Tell her we're...

we're going to vallauris.

Tell her she can come with us.

Put jacqueline on the train.

Why don't you pick some

of your favorite toys

and put them in

this basket for me?

Papa says we're going back

to vallauris today,

and he wants you and the

children to come with us.

I'll drive very carefully.

Please come.

He'd like it.

I'd like it, too.

It's not the same without you.

Claude, why don't you go

and see if the car's here?

Paulo, I only want

some time to myself.

I'll bring the children

during their summer holidays.

Until then, I'm going

to stay in Paris.

Let's call it an experiment.

You're lucky you can

make such an experiment.

Well, so could you

if you wanted to.

What can I do?

You've heard papa say often

enough how useless I am.

Yes, I've heard him say it,

but I don't believe it,

and neither should you.

I'd drive you if he'd

let me have the car.

It's all right.

My father sent his car,

but you could help me with

these bags if you want to.

You'll come running

back in a week.

You really believe that?

No one leaves

a man like Picasso.

I don't think you know

the first thing about me.

Won't you say good-bye

to the children?

Man:
Mademoiselle?

Is she in the house?

Mademoiselle is not here.

But is it true

she's left Picasso?

Is she staying in

Paris permanently?

What about the children?

She's not in.

Wait, wait.

Hey, what's your name?

Claude.

That's a nice name,

Claude what? Claude Picasso?

Where's your mom?

Wait, wait.

No more questions!

Wait!

Didn't you say

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