Van Gogh Page #7

- I left in a hurry.

- Your wife kicked you out?

- Sort of

Play something more

more

- Here I am.

- I'm busy.

I came to Paris just for that.

You with her or me?

Don't touch me.

That's all you ever think about.

You crazy?

I looked for you in Auvers,

left you a note.

- Can we meet?

- Hands off!

- Tomorrow the day after

- Sure You can't be bothered

Let go

Hands off!

Your sweetness is phony.

A**hole! Go home!

Who needs you!

The whore with the heart of gold.

You're so romantic,

you're a goner!

She's shy.

Don't you want to?

This makes me dizzy!

Sing "Red Hill".

It's called Red Hill

And here's why

All who fought there

were doomed to die

Now it's a vineyard

Like so many others

But when you drink its wine

You drink the blood of your brothers

There were no pretty maids

On that hill

No swains, no laughter and mirth

It's far from Montmartre

And Paris, the hub of the earth

That hill is soaked in the blood

Of farmers and workers

Who answered a call

Those who start wars

Never die of them

Only the innocent fall

Red Hill is its name

And here's why

All who fought there

Were doomed to die

Now, it's a vineyard

Like so many others

But when you drink its wine

You drink the blood of your brothers

May I?

Here, taste

- It's good.

- Drink.

More

You love me?

Say it.

You love me?

Come, brother.

Time to parade! Look sharp!

- Will you buy my paintings?

- I did Which ones?

Those I paint.

You're known as a model!

No one wants your paintings!

Bastard!

Now you're like all dealers.

I need sleep

before I open the gallery.

I'll go snooze with my old lady.

Third class is narrow!

Sure, the poor have smaller asses.

This is living.

Tickets please.

Kiss again, it's the milk-train!

Have a nice trip!

What's wrong?

I so wish you loved me

I know you don't.

Doesn't matter.

What have I done?

Answer when I talk to you!

You can't take paintings

to the grave!

Painting! It's a disease.

You're sick, you hear!

You grovel in your sh*t!

Your shitty paintings!

From your sick mind!

Let go of me!

You're not normal!

You're insane! Stay here!

Sit down!

Here.

You're alone? Where's my daughter?

- Your ugly face!

- She vanished yesterday.

- What happened?

- Nothing.

- What did he do to you?

- Nothing.

Answer. Are you ill?

There's no need to destroy to create!

You sow despair.

A great artist, but a loathsome man.

You're twice her age!

Aren't you ashamed?

I've known many painters.

They weren't like you.

You're vulgar.

It's in everything you do!

You don't love me.

You don't care.

If you knew how I love you

You forgot your package.

Go out on the platform.

The young lady's unwell.

- Get help.

- A doctor?

I'm a doctor, idiot! A carriage.

Take her feet

Climb up and lift her

- What are you eating?

- A bun.

Can I have some?

Good, huh?

Here, take that.

Come on

- Where you off to?

- To watch him paint.

Matching loonies!

Why's that here?

Do other hotels

let 'em paint indoors?

Soon it'll be in the bar!

It won't be a bar, but a paint store!

You didn't do my ear.

Move over.

Some day we'll do this for free.

- Normally

- Right, it'll be nice.

- Let's start now.

- What?

- For free.

- Really?

That excite you?

- What?

- When I kissed your neck

Well it does me. So do it.

You eating me?

Thank you for waiting.

Where's La Mouche?

In Paris.

Hurry. I'm bushed.

Faster!

It'll be all right.

Don't want any?

She doesn't.

Why not? What's wrong?

Glass of wine?

Who was that?

Mr. Van Gogh.

Why isn't he eating with us?

Go look.

See what he's up to.

Coming?

Go see what's up.

Eat!

Wants none.

Just like your sister.

Mom, come quick!

What is it?

Suicide's great for a hotel!

Some hotel! Three rooms!

Is it a bullet?

Yes, it is.

Does that hurt?

Help me turn him over.

Gently.

Adeline

You in pain? Want a shot?

No shots.

They scare me.

Shall we operate?

Well, doctor?

He needs hot compresses.

And clean his bed.

Very well, doctor.

An overdose of barbiturates

is easier to deal with.

When your daughter

said it was suicide,

I brought my stomach pump.

We'll look after you.

- Doctor, where were you?

- I was away. Where is he?

Upstairs.

- May I?

- Go ahead.

- Sorry

- The casualty's next door.

You won't let me examine you?

Well, doctor?

He's breathing normally.

- As if he wasn't hurt.

- I'll open the door.

- They're doing nothing?

- Don't say that.

But they aren't!

Little one

Dear Theo

You shouldn't have come

till I'd croaked.

- Is that position all right?

- He chose it. Leave him in it.

No, don't

It's good for him.

Isn't drinking bad for him?

Don't give him a thing.

They've readied a room for you.

Get some rest.

I'll watch him.

How is he?

Get me a brandy.

He must be moved to a hospital

in Paris.

And operated.

Never He can't be moved.

It'd kill him.

But he'll die if he lingers here.

We can't do nothing and let him die.

He'll die of nothing!

If he's alive 12 hours after:

his organs are intact.

Even a surgeon

would damage his organs

extracting the bullet.

The journey alone may kill him.

I agree with my colleague:

I think it's hopeless.

Alright?

I'm hungry.

It's all over.

I'll settle up.

Board and lodging for June is due.

And Dr. Masery's two visits.

Of course.

- He gave you any paintings?

- Two.

Keep them. They're yours.

Run along. Don't tell your sister.

I'll return the paintings

he left with me.

My portrait and my daughter's.

We were just storing them

You must keep them.

He'll get known

through your collection.

If you mean it

I'm very touched.

Mr. Van Gogh,

I've done the death certificate.

- My foot!

- I didn't mean to!

My foot's crushed: you laugh!

- I'm not laughing!

- Doctor!

My foot!

I'll massage you.

I have a healing hand.

- Better?

- Feels good.

So good

I never let anyone touch my feet.

- That's much better.

- I'll help you.

Help me up.

It'll take months to heal.

Hi. You from here?

This the hanged man's house?

No, it's on Pylon St.

No one hanged himself there.

- First time you painted here?

- No.

I come often.

It's like the greats are still here.

Pissarro, Czanne,

Daumier, Millet

Millet never came.

Daumier lived in Valmondois.

He painted a studio door here.

The owner will show it to you.

What's the motif?

Don Quixote

- Van Gogh liked it a lot.

- You knew Van Gogh?

Yes. He was my friend.

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