Zorn Page #3

Could we try to talk?

Could we sit down?

Sit down, you.

I think it's become

more difficult between us.

- Can't you sit also?

- Yes, of course.

I know you'll never forgive me.

It was my life's biggest mistake.

Don't pull it up again.

- If I had given birth to the child...

- You didn't want it.

We were not even engaged.

I was so scared.

I had nightmares that

my father would find out.

- Tell me you loved me then.

- But you know it.

Say that it wasn't wrong.

That damn charlatan disturbed everything!

- You trusted him.

- I didn't know about anyone else.

I also wanted our child!

- Sorry I was such a coward!

- Emma...

Can it ever be good

between us again? I love you.

Stop it, Emma.

You're tormenting yourself.

Is there nothing left between us?

Have you ever really loved me?

Are you concerned about it now...

I can't talk to women.

My tongue gets locked.

If you want something, you can talk

splendidly and have the finest behaviour.

Hold me, Anders!

It's so long ago!

Anders...

Let's start over again.

Just you and me.

You said that I was what

no one else could be for you.

- That's right...

- I don't want to lose you.

- I guess you don't need me.

- Emma, that's not true.

The problem is that the booze means

most for you. As it did for your dad.

I know what's going on with Ols-Maria.

Half the village knows it.

I have played blind for your

your naughty escapades!

I don't want the shame

of a divorce!

But if you think you can

take home your foreign mistresses,

who I shall entertain

at our dinner table...

Then you have counted wrong!

But she suits you better, of course.

She's young and handsome and rich!

But she'll never

give birth to your BASTARD!

- Farm worker manners.

- But I am not a servant, you know!

Neither for you or for someone else!

Come in. It's open.

You aren't freezing, are you?

- Cubism is alive and flowering.

- Amateurism, you mean.

Can you really sell this stuff?

Grnewald!

- I didn't expect to see you here.

- I can't notice any healthy sensuality.

It's probably because

you don't like women.

- This poor girl has certainly malaria.

- I suspect you are colour blind.

You are just as exaggerated

as your lousy cartoons.

- What's the intention with that one?

- You dislike what you don't understand.

- Don't you have imagination anymore?

- Something to laugh about.

I don't know what it's supposed to be.

Certainly some kind of sunset...

It's not me who's

called a superficial "faiseur".

You are pass.

Time has run away from you.

Only Americans buy your nudes.

They have no taste or culture.

- But what you mess up is culture?

- End of the old men's dominion.

- What a loudmouth you are.

- They call you "henhouse Rubens".

If you weren't gay

I'd ask you to kiss my ass!

Thanks, sweetie.

I'm already busy.

A f***ing amateur painting,

that's what this is!

You're the only one I want.

Yeah. And I'm Anders Zorn.

Here it is.

An interview with

one of the young artists:

"The new, modern paintings should

be watched from extra distance."

Ideally, one shouldn't

watch them at all!

You are a damn good artist, Albert;

and sometimes you're really funny.

- But only sometimes, right?

- Exactly.

- May I offer you a cigar?

- Well, maybe...

"Have you had breakfast?

- No, not one sip yet." - Funny!

You remove the cigar belt

before you light up.

- What's worse than an empty glass?

- Must be sour old broads.

Don't you have anything in your glass?

That must be organized.

Damn, nothing here either.

- Bring a new bottle of whiskey!

- How is it, Anders?

- Could be better.

Why's nobody coming?

- Bring whiskey, I said!

Is it the one from Paris

who's haunting you?

It's so boring that we can't

be together... - Oh, is it you?

Who else? The maids are busy with

making themselves beautiful for you.

You're so right...

Albert and I were longing for

a little sip, but there's nothing.

A midsummer sip would be good.

Shouldn't we have noble guests?

It's not so easy with the prince.

He's as dull as he's painting.

- It's just Albert and me.

- I'm sorry for your bad reputation.

- Did you say something?

- Me? No, nothing.

- We'd need a bottle of whiskey.

- Yes, I understand.

I'll immediately run and find one.

- A truly nice wife you have...

- It's not so much wrong with Emma.

Your nasty piece of a wife

isn't much to brag about.

No. But she's so ugly

so she's hiding.

It shall be princes and barons for Emma.

Upper class life has spoiled her.

Damn!

- What's the matter, Anders?

- I get so damn sore sometimes.

- A kind of cramp.

- It's not syphilis maybe?

No, it tends to get better with whiskey.

Give me the glass.

Damn it!

Good, let me have a shot in the

other leg as well, for the balance.

Put it over there.

- What are you doing?

- Sorry... So annoying.

The maids must dance with a lame

tonight, this was the last bottle.

The importance of alcohol

for the human body...

can't be emphasised enough!

Restaurateur!

Two bottles more.

- Look here... restaurateur!

- I'd like to present the bill.

- Shall the restaurateur go home already?

- It's 4 o'clock in the morning.

- That's early, right?

- Ols-Maria wants meatballs.

- We want more booze.

- Sorry, Mr. Zorn, that's not possible.

- Before there was always food.

- It's different times now.

- Can one buy the whole restaurant?

- If you've got money, well yes.

Then maybe this is enough

as a deposit...

Count it. Here's a little more.

- Sure.

- Good.

- We'll get the rest tomorrow.

- Then I will write a receipt.

Back to the meatballs. It's important

Ols-Maria gets what she wants.

And it shall be small, round and

nice meatballs, dear sir.

- I'll arrange it myself immediately.

- And with cranberries!

- And by hell don't forget booze.

- Coming instantly!

I can't tolerate that!

Do you hear what I say!

Sitting in a pub, day after day.

With one of our maids!

- The ladies get wind in their sails...

- I don't care what they gossip about!

Don't stand there and listen!

Shame on you!

- It's so embarrassing for me!

- It's time that I travel again.

You can't do it. You're sick.

As Strindberg writes, we're together

only to torment each other.

What a surprise.

I didn't know you can read.

Now you shall hear...

- Do you need to smoke that much?

- I'm drinking too, without asking you!

I also swear and apparently

I'm f***ing uneducated.

I'm rude and angry upstage!

Have I forgotten anything?

- I can't talk to you anymore.

- I'm a bastard.

Do you need to shout like this?

Everybody can...

Stop talking about what I need!

How much I should charge,

which fork I should use...

I am who I am.

And I'm not ashamed.

- You could get better, dear Anders.

- Yes, we all can get better.

But not you, dear Emma,

'cause you're perfect!

Don't look so sad.

So yes... Head up.

- I'm cold.

- Don't move! It's damn good.

- Damn!

- What is it?

There's nothing wrong with me.

Go back!

Where're you going?

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