Van Gogh Page #3

- I just went

Aren't you ever happy with a man?

Why not?

- My husband

- Your husband?

Yeah, I was married.

It was fine, now it's over.

I can't do it

with the guy I live with.

You're the only one.

I'd like to.

All men want that.

They all want that with whores.

But women hate that,

they hate men.

- You never liked men?

- I don't give a sh*t.

- That's the way I live.

- You can't always live like that.

- I can.

- Well, what's it to me?

At least you're genuine.

- Looking for someone?

- No, thanks.

- How did you find this place?

- Everyone knows it.

- Men do. But women?

- Depends which ones.

How can they manage?

All those costumes!

And they take them off

with such ease

You think I'm silly, like all women.

I don't know you.

You probably don't get to talk much.

True. Dad says I'm introverted.

I don't speak for hours.

There are no trains at night.

It's a local line.

I often hear the last train,

but not the first.

When I sleep poorly, I rise late.

In Arles, I lived by the station.

I love trains, like a kid.

You're still a kid in many ways.

Lots of trains went through Arles.

Shall we sit or stand?

- We'd rather lie down!

- It's not the time.

- I have to get my gear.

- I have to go too.

Won't you join us for lunch?

Friends are coming

Sorry, I can't.

I have a family lunch.

A pity, I would have loved to.

I'll play you something.

You have a lovely voice.

That's going too far.

You should visit me more often.

We could sing that.

I can't read music.

I never studied it.

You sing wonderfully.

My dad wouldn't let me.

And I work in the bar.

You have some free time.

- See, they want me!

- Adeline!

I've made a spot.

Bye.

Hurry. What are you doing?

You've got work to do!

I know.

Chaponval! Chaponval!

Next stop Auvers, Valmondois, Creil!

All aboard!

Here he is.

Vincent. How are you?

- Fine. I wanted to rent a carriage

- You got no money

It's not far.

Jo, give him to me.

I'll carry him.

Chocolate!

Here they come!

My daughter Marguerite.

My son Paul.

He got little or no care there.

The doctor at St-Rmy wrote me

that he got no specific therapy,

nor regular supervision.

I can't believe

he had epileptic fits.

That word is used

to cover up ignorance.

Your brother was exhausted,

overworked.

He works too much, still now.

It was drink, too.

Absinthe. And bad food.

That's all it takes

with over-sensitive people like him.

His pulse is good,

as are his circulation,

blood pressure, and arteries.

He's tough and in good shape.

But any over-excitement

becomes an attack

I'd say of hysteria.

It's not confined to women.

He's too concentrated,

monomaniacal

The seating layout!

It's on the sideboard.

- You crazy?

- It was harmless

Well, lovebirds?

She connived to serve here today.

Keeps tabs on you.

You painted the pest?

Yes, why?

She's cute, but a bit vulgar.

She's an innkeeper's daughter!

Not your class!

You're mean!

It's the champagne.

To little Vincent!

I like him very much.

And to the complete recovery

of big Vincent.

Vincent the great.

- Let's be serious

- Homeopathy isn't a serious topic.

Homeopathy has one great virtue:

it put an end to

the barbaric practice of draining.

That sounds good.

But I read an unconvincing

homeopathic treatise:

it listed 350 types of headaches.

I only know of one.

There's a remedy for the fear

of being cuckolded!

Charlatanism!

A very widespread fear!

Come on, that doesn't exist.

In allopathy,

we did little to cure patients.

I soon realized

and I wasn't alone,

that we hadn't learned

enough to heal the sick.

- Has that changed?

- I've changed.

The war of 1870 did it.

I saw real suffering.

Not just the usual hypochondriacs.

Men who'd been butchered.

We had to do something.

We couldn't handle these men

in real pain

with the usual phony palliatives.

Someone in pain is alone.

Good intentions won't help.

Sorry, madam, we're boring you

Not at all.

I'm never bored with painters.

Painters?

I'm not much of one

Theo must become a painter.

I insist.

We're all talented

Why else did I marry him?

He'll paint.

We got our talent from Mother.

We shouldn't have become

art dealers.

You're right, but for yourself.

For a simple man like me

Not so simple, Mr Van Gogh.

You've carved a name

in the art market,

almost cornered it.

There's a Durand-Ruel.

- You have more taste and courage.

- But less money.

- You sponsor the Impressionists.

- Except his brother.

You've imposed Monet and Renoir.

Others will follow.

I can't wait! Right, Theo?

Enough laces. OK? Not too tight?

Not too tight Wait Don't move.

One, two

My name's Toulouse-Lautrec

I'm an handsome wreck

I get my inspiration

In places of damnation

Although I'm short of leg

All the ladies beg

So hide your wives from the meanie

They all want to taste my wienie

In front of my kids!

I'm choking!

Once more?

Shall I do a number?

After he entered a monastery,

the King of Beggars

It's not really Quasimodo:

but it's quasi him!

Dad, do the camel!

The little mountain dwarfs

Do all the dirty work

While the shepherds sleep

From the witch they save the sheep

The Auvers ballet.

I'd have liked a poem.

- There are lovely ones.

- I don't know any.

Then a song.

Jo sing us Cherryblossom time.

Don't insist, Theo.

- You, Madame.

- I don't dare.

Please do.

You can't turn us down

A little song.

- I'll need the first note.

- We'll accompany you.

When we'll sing of cherryblossom time

All the nightingales and blackbirds

Will come out to rejoice

Lasses will have

Ribbons in their hair

And lovers

Sunshine in their hearts

When we'll sing

Of cherryblossom time

But who of us can match

The blackbird's song?

- What about my poem?

- I know none.

It can't be.

Is that true, doctor?

No, she just won't recite one.

- Search your memory.

- I can't remember any.

Let's go for

a walk by the river.

Why not

But the train's at 5.50.

You've time.

It'll do us good.

You'll see, it's a lovely spot.

That's why so many painters come.

Jo has a fine face.

My brother's lucky.

- So paint her.

- She scares me.

Meet my fiance.

She's fallen for him.

Idle girls fall easily.

If Vincent was a chic painter,

Gachet would

Let's get back to homeopathy.

It's all contradictions.

You can interpret it

any way you want.

Like your brother's fine works.

People reject them today

as an outrageous, clumsy, mess.

Soon those same "learned" people

will claim they're sublime.

But they are now!

I hope you're right.

Shall we dance?

He's so clumsy.

You wonder if he really

does those things

His many weaknesses

add up to strength!

So do ours.

How can you stand him?

You don't dance?

My father disapproves.

I practice secretly.

- Don't kiss a girl's hand!

- He's a bumpkin!

We sorely missed you for lunch.

Still want me to coo?

A friend, Mrs de Marigny.

You've been hiding her?

I don't recruit for anyone!

I didn't mean that

Are you a lady killer?

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