Bonnard: Pierre & Marthe (2023)

[bunniefuu]

You often pick up

girls in the street?

You might at least answer.

What do you do?

I work at Trousselier's.

The artificial-flower makers?

That's it.

You don't ask me what I do

at Trousselier's?

What do you do

at Trousselier's?

Guess.

Breasts, please.

What?

Your breasts, please.

What do you mean,

"your breasts"?

If you want to become a model,

you have to show your breasts.

I didn't say I wanted

to become a mode.

You asked me

to pose for you.

And you said yes.

I didn't say I was going

to show you my breasts.

- What are you doing?

- I have to go home.

I'm not finished.

I'm tired of staying without moving,

thank you very much.

Help me!

I just lost control...

Sorry.

What is it?

I'll be back.

How are you?

You alright?

I'm asthmatic.

They're fake.

I made it myself

for you.

- It's me?

- Yes.

I don't even know your name.

Martha.

Martha? Its pretty, Marthe!

Marthe what?

De Meligny.

DE Meligny?

I have Italian origins.

Aristocrat?

If you like...

An assistant at Trousselier's,

so a ruined one.

- And you?

- Me?

Pierre.

Pierre Bonnard.

Can't be any more French.

Middle bourgeoisie.

Budding painter.

In Bonnard, there's 'bonheur' - joy.

Have you always wanted

to do this?

- Do what?

- To paint.

I studied to be a lawyer

to please my father.

I even took an oath.

But luckily I flunked

the Civil Service entry exam...

How do you manage?

To do what?

To eat.

You have to eat properly,

pay your rent.

How do you do it?

No!

Duckling is worried

about how I manage to eat.

Who is she?

She's my sister, Andree.

She's pretty.

You're lucky to have a sister.

I have a brother, too.

You don't?

I have no-one.

My mother died

when I was born.

My father died of sorrow,

to have lost her.

I'm alone in the world.

You're freer than me, then.

Why do women pose naked

and not men?

It's men who paint, not women.

Come on, I'm hungry.

Come on!

- Would you like to live with me?

- What?

Pierre!

Pierre?

Pierre...

Wait!

Wait!

- So?

- So, what?

Like to live with me?

Isnt that going a bit fast?

Life also goes fast.

We barely know each other!

We sleep together.

That's not a reason.

Hold on...

Your dream...

A small bourgeois wedding.

A white dress, a veil,

a wreath of orange blossoms.

And kids... Is that it?

Not really.

Ah, Mr Pierre.

Is Thadee here?

Good.

Hello Ma'am.

I'll get more cutlery.

Mr Pierre?

Come on!

Who is it?

Its Misia.

She plays well.

She's a prodigy.

Her father is Godebski,

the sculptor.

She's beautiful.

The fellow with the black beard

is Serusier.

Next to Vallotton.

The chubby chap is Signac.

The redhead, Vuillard.

These are my friends. The Nabis.

What does 'Nabis' mean?

It means prophets in Hebrew.

Together we decided to

to revolutionize modern painting.

That's all?

Stay for dinner,

Lautrec is here.

This is Marthe.

Good evening.

Misia will be furious

if you don't stay.

Marthe, this is Thadee.

Misia's husband.

Its thanks to him that I eat

and pay my rent.

Tell her I earn enough

to be happy, even for 2.

Don't move...

I'll be right back.

Who's that?

It's Misia.

- Did you paint it?

- Yes.

Are you sleeping with her?

Hi. Did Thadee tell you

about the independents?

- No.

- Not yet?

My darling,

nice to see you again,

You have anyone in tow?

I'd take it badly.

My darlings!

- Hello.

- My darlings...

For the screen,

I rounded up the amount.

Oh! Like rain,

it falls when it should.

You see Marthe?

- Who is it?

- It's me, Maria!

Where have you been?

- You won't let me in?

- Did you see the time?

How can I?

Who is it?

Who do you think?!

Marthe, where have you been?

- I met someone.

- Who?

A good person. A painter.

A painter, at your age?

He wanted me

to pose for him.

He paid you?

Are you going

to see him again?

It's over.

I can't do without you.

Come on.

I want you to stop working.

I want you all to myself.

I want all of you.

Come on, come on!

Come on, Pierre!

How about dogs?

- Would you like dogs?

- I love dogs.

So we forget about kids.

- We'll get dogs.

- Preferably bassets.

I love bassets.

I'll cook for you.

I cook very well.

Stew, chicken...

Puddings.

I could k*ll a pig.

We're going to miss it!

The station isn't that way!

Goodness me... you have

no sense of direction.

You always want to be right...

- You wanted to pick blackberries!

- No it was you!

Liar...

Stop, it's not funny!

No way! I'm fed up!

Oh, have you seen my dress?

This is my prettiest dress!

I'm all dirty!

- Marthe.

- What?

Look!

Come!

- Come on!

- No...

Nobody here!

- You coming? You're a wet blanket!.

- But...

But...

- Hold this for me.

- Alright...

You're crazy!

HOUSE FOR REN"I often have this strange

and penetrating dream...

"of an unknown woman,

and whom I love, and who loves me,

"and who is, each time,

nor quite the same one

"nor quite another,

and she loves and understands me."

Nor quite another

and loves and understands me."

Come and see!

Because she understands me

and my transparent heart,

for her alone, alas,

stops being a problem.

For her alone,

and the dampness of my pale forehead,

Only she knows how to refresh it,

crying.

The door.

Drink.

Stop your carry-on!

I brought you some honey,

it will soften the pain.

Anything happen?

You could have told me sooner.

What does she say?

That he's put her

in a larger apartment...

...which overlooks a square

where she goes out with the kid.

There's a real bathtub.

She is learning English,

But it's not easy.

He comes to see her

whenever he can.

He'll never divorce.

She thinks he got her

pregnant again.

- That's good.

- Another girl.

Not so good.

Did you do better?

If you can't do something,

I'm calling for the doctor.

- It's going to cost you a lot.

- That's my business.

My 2 daughters...

Kept like prostit*tes.

Here.

I'm going, I'm late.

You only just came!

It's an important day...

I can't keep him waiting.

The soup is on the stove.

I bought you some meat.

Eat it or it will go off.

I got you a piece

of Saint-Nectaire cheese.

When will I see you?

What if I die?

How will you know?

I don't know

where you live!

You're not going

to do that again!

You're never happy

with all I do for you!

If you miss Berry so much,

I'll take you back to Saint-Amand!

Whatever.

What were you doing?

Is this to be a habit?

What?

Arriving late!

I'm beginning to think

you're hiding something from us.

I took the tram...

there was an accident.

Again?

Invent something else!

Hurry up!

Pierre is waiting for you.

Theres a crazy crowd.

What now?

I can't.

You can't what?

All these people, I can't.

Marthe!

Marthe!

Pierre needs to be supported!

If there is one person who matters

more than others, it's you.

You don't give up.

Pierre loves me

for the life we lead.

The rest is his business.

You'll have to make an effort.

- Tell him I've gone home.

- Marthe!

All of Paris is there!

Pierre will be judged,

admired or demolished.

You can't just abandon him.

Can you imagine me?

in front of these people who will say...

Is she the one

showing her buttocks?"

We finally see her face!

Nobody cares about who you are.

You don't wonder why

Pierre only paints my body?

Why my face is always blurry?

You're living through

the eyes of a painter.

It's all that matters.

So allow me that.

So?

- She left.

- How come?

That girl is crazy

and she talks nonsense.

Marthe de Mligny.

Why not Joan of Arc?

What do I say to Pierre?

You'll think of something.

I'll meet you.

Misia, Marthe is not with you?

She slipped through my fingers.

It's a shame.

Pierre's taking everything.

A shame!

You celebrate our sex

with the greatest simplicity.

It's rare. Thank you sir.

Thank you.

Where's Marthe?

- Left.

- How come?

- Something happened?

- Nothing, she went home.

It's a triumph.

Pierre, open your eyes.

That girl is making your life difficult.

She's bad for you.

She keeps you out

in the country...

...when you should be here

with your friends...

...when everything

is opening up to you.

Don't miss your chance...

for a crazy nobody.

Why not?

Please...

ladies and gentlemen...!

I see you, you know!

I saw you!

Yep, there!

I love you, Pierre!

I love you!

Pierre?

Pierre?

Pierre?

Why do you still not want

to have a child?

Don't start that again.

Start what again?

I thought we'd agreed

on that subject.

Agreed on what?

That we're not made

to live like bourgeois.

I want a child, please.

No, no and no.

I don't want children.

Much less everything

that goes with that.

Nanny, full-time maid.

Nothing that can take me

away from my work.

How can a nanny and a maid

take you away from your work?

I don't want to be

a bad father, that's all.

At least let me

be a good mother.

I can take care of a child alone.

Don't I take good care of the dogs?

Are you mad at me?

Yes.

Are you really mad at me?

Yes.

You'd love me more, then?

No.

It depends.

Depends on what?

How you love me.

Good.

Duckling needs proof.

Pierre!

I'm here...

I'm here... I'm here...

I'll be right back.

Look at me.

Look at me...

You should have called me sooner.

I'll prescribe something for you.

You'll need to undergo treatment.

Hydrotherapy is the answer

in your case.

What is that?

A bath once a day,

for at least an hour.

I bathe every day in the Seine.

In winter,

I recommend the bathtub.

And in addition...

...one to 2 treatments per year

at a spa.

Goodbye, doctor.

Oh yes.

Thank you.

Your wife...

She has a weak heart.

She won't live long,

poor woman.

Be prepared.

I'm sorry.

Marthe!

Are you hungry?

I'll warm up dinner!

Oh, Pierre...

You're crazy, it's madness.

It must have cost you a fortune.

I sold 2 paintings to Bernheim.

Why are you looking

at me like that?

Why don't you still want

to do this treatment?

You're my treatment.

You know, Bourboule

is very good!

Vuillard sent his mother

there last year.

You could go with her.

With Vuillard's mother?

Thanks very much!

She is an exceptional woman.

- She's 100 years old!

- 70.

You want to get rid of me.

Is that it?

You think I don't understand?

What are you going to do

in Paris every week?

You know very well what I do.

I'm painting decorative panels

for Misia's apartment.

Her new husband pays me a fortune.

What's wrong with that?

We'd had enough of Paris!

We agreed we'd never

set foot in there again.

You spend all your time there

and you want to send me to Bourboule.

Not me, the doctor!

And at night,

what do you do with Misia...

...when her husband's not there?

Play dominoes?

Marbles?

Admit that I disgust you

with my sick lungs...

My dark circles,

my yellowing skin.

- What are you talking about?

- You don't touch me anymore, Pierre!

You don't touch me anymore!

Neither ring nor wreath,

let alone a child.

What do I do?

Should I get out of your hair?

One day, Ill leave and youll

never hear from me again.

Yoohoo! It's us!

Pierre? Marthe? It's us!

Oh! Friends!

It took us 2 hours, on the dot.

Who rowed all the way?

Muggins here!

So it's my fault

if I've done my back in?

Little Marthe...

So good to see you.

- Always so pretty.

- Oh, thank you, Claude.

- Oh...

Sighs

I thought we'd never get

to leave Giverny.

Claude rowed around his pond

3 times before leaving.

For his breathing.

The chicken! Still lukewarm.

If it's back in the oven,

it'll be fine.

Be careful, the sauce is in the dish

with the potatoes.

- Did you prepare the salad?

- Yes, and the creme caramel.

Perfect.

Shall we?

What, now?

Of course.

- Where are you going?

- And lunch?

After.

Don't complain

if you eat it cold...

...and you get stomach ache.

Oh! Here are my little darlings!

There!

There they are.

I discovered them by chance.

I hope I haven't brought you

here for nothing.

Wait until I tell you.

Hydrocaris morsus ranae.

The most common, with the lutea.

And this one, the alba.

Yes, it is.

Look at that blue.

The nymphea caerulae. The rarest.

You're in luck.

Such specimens in their natural state,

2 steps from your home.

When I grow them

at great expense...

...in a property in the Lot.

It's good.

Claude got it from the cellar

especially for you.

He said This one's for Marthe."

It will give her back

her rosy cheeks."

What's wrong, Marthe?

Have you been arguing again?

Pierre's cheating on me, Alice.

Are you sure?

He disappears to Paris

3 or 4 days a week.

I'm worried.

Worried about what?

We all go through this,

you know.

You want to know

what I think, deep-down?

Pierre will never let you go.

Look how far he's come

since you were together.

You're his lucky charm.

Ah, there they are.

Have you met

Misia's new husband?

The Levantine...

He has a terrible reputation.

It seems that his father

made his fortune...

...by selling false teeth

to I don't know which sultan.

Marthe... the potatoes!

Oh, it looks beautiful!

Misia, would you bring

the gravy boat, please.

The chicken!

We have a plan,

Misia and I...

...with a few hand-picked friends

including...

What's the name

of that young composer...

...who you're mad about,

darling?

Ravel!

Ravel, yes.

We have this plan

to go by boat...

...visiting Constantinople,

where I was born...

...then to follow the coastline

of Palestine, to Cairo.

I want to introduce Misia

to the pyramids of Egypt.

You are all invited.

What do you think?

Claude! Come and sit down!

I'd fear the heat too much.

You must get to see

the pyramids, at least once.

Oh yes...

And my darling

would be so happy...

...so happy to have

her old friends from yesteryear.

What are you two plotting?

Alfred wants us to join him

on a cruise to Egypt.

Really?

Don't they say there are mummies

capable of casting a spell on you?

And spiders, Alice!

As big as your fist.

And very venomous.

Isn't that right, Alfred?

Claude!

The chicken's going cold!

He won't come.

- Shall I go get him?

- No.

Don't risk it.

When he's focused on something,

he's ferocious.

So, Misia...

A small thigh?

A wing? Some breast?

A thigh. I like the top bit.

Not too many potatoes, Marthe.

Pierre, breast, as usual?

Edouard, a wing?

- Yes thanks.

- Who wants wine?

- Yes.

- I want some wine.

Let's drink to our

being back together.

Did I tell you that Thadee

had to sell Villeneuve?

At the time,

it broke my heart.

It was another life, wasn't it?

We shouldn't get

attached to things.

You would've liked Villeneuve,

Marthe.

It was such a lively house.

We always got stuck there,

Vuillard and me.

There was also Lautrec,

Renoir, Vallotton.

Satie, who composed for me.

- Verlaine.

- Verlaine...

...who wrote a sonnet,

to me, I think...

...that Thadee stole from me

out of jealousy.

There were always beautiful people

in this house.

Friends... poets, acrobats.

People all in love

of the absolute and freedom.

Who lived only for their art,

while partying.

Everyone was in love with you.

Yes, Misia...

You were a miracle, and...

...the ray of sunshine

that everyone looked out for...

...on this hard and painful Earth..

Excuse me.

How do you keep your days busy,

here, my darling...

Don't you miss Paris?

Not at all.

And you... your concerts?

My concerts...

They're ancient history.

Isn't that so, Alfred?

I met Diaghilev the other evening.

He's going to do something of Debussy,

together at the Opera.

A ballet.

He's looking for someone

to do the sets.

I told him about your successes.

He was enthusiastic.

I'm asking for an explanation.

An explanation?

What explanation?

Have you slept with him?

With Diaghilev?

No, with Vuillard!

What do you need to know?

Just confess!

Tell me the truth!

Wait until we get home.

Don't start again

like the other evening.

When are you going to stop?

For God's sake, when will you

stop torturing me?

I give you everything!

What more do you want?

To drive me crazy?

Who else have I been

sleeping with all these years?

Make a precise report for Alfred.

Excuse me, did I

ever sleep with you?

Come on, my dear, stop

your raving, it doesn't work.

Even less,

your imaginary illnesses.

Your so-called little heart

beats too fast...

Hey, look...

When will you admit

that you're hysterical?

How dare you...

Completely hysterical!

Your ailments comes out your head,

where everything is invented!

You are like a poor little lady...

...who has no other means

of holding her husband, than her asthma.

It's pathetic.

- You've won.

- What did I say wrong?

She's a monster.

I tell you, a monster.

I married a monster!

Let me make amends.

Marthe?

Martha!

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

Marthe!

Marthe!

At last!

What are you doing?

Leave me alone!

Goodness!... Come out of there!

I didn't mean to hurt you!

I was only trying

to tease Alfred!

A vulgar couple's quarrel

which was not aimed at you in any way.

Leave me alone, I tell you!

I know what

you think of me.

What do I think of you?

I don't think anything

of you, I swear!

Yes. That I'm a liar!

A pain in the arse who

confines Pierre in his house...

...while he blossomed

in yours.

No way!

No way.

Martha, what are you doing?

I have the impression that you can't

stand that I knew Pierre before you.

You knew very well

that he almost lived with us.

Its normal, this closeness.

It doesn't take anything

away from you!

You must have had fun!

The good times, when everyone

slept with everyone!

Don't move,

I'm coming to get you.

Don't come any closer!

It's your jealousy speaking,

Marthe.

It's like Alfred...

There's nothing worse than jealousy!

Should I remind you

that I was also Pierre's muse...

...that he painted me

before you?

That doesn't give you

any rights.

Except for being his friend!

His friend?

Who'd want a friend like you?

You are perhaps the richest,

the most admired woman in Paris...

But I wouldn't want

a friend like you.

Why do you say that?

What have I done to you?

I hate you...

You and people like you!

I hate even more what you've

become since you married Alfred.

Stop your nonsense

and give me your hand.

When I entered your place

for the first time...

When I saw you,

heard you playing the piano...

I was amazed.

I admired you.

I would've given anything

to have a friend like you.

- Anything!

- Well...

Let that be it!

Accept that I have faults,

like everyone else!

Come on... come...

Faults?

You've turned your back

on your donations!

You've given up on yourself!

Let's put it more prosaically...

that I didn't land any contracts.

If I'd been a man,

everything would've been different.

You know that!

No, you sacrificed everything

to money and high-society life!

Including the man you loved.

Stop kidding yourself!

You viper!

This girl is crazy!

I always said it...

she's crazy!

She's a liar!

A raving liar!

An intriguer who put

her grappling hooks into poor Pierre...

...and took him away

from his friends!

What can I ever do...

...if Thadee pushed me

into this man's arms...

...and I fell in love with him?

That's right, you're the victim.

Thadee was ruined, Marthe.

I had no choice!

It was that or end up on the street!

No.

It was that or get back

to the piano.

Oh no.

We spent the night near her.

At dawn she opened her eyes

and she whispered your name...

Maria...

Forgive me...

I couldn't come earlier.

Forgive me.

I would've liked to know you

in different circumstances.

And bring you gifts.

It will be for next time.

Where is Adolf?

He went to look for

the undertaker.

The funeral will be tomorrow

before we leave.

I brought you some money.

- I'll repay you as soon as I can.

- Don't worry about it.

Is this the painter's money?

Is your husband

rich and famous?

Is it thanks to his money,

how elegant you are?

- Show me... How much is it?

- That's enough!

Go and play on the landing!

Take anything that interests you.

Ill cancel the lease.

We'll move to the south-west.

It seems to be safer.

And you?

Pierre escaped mobilization...

...but was still sent

to the front.

The w*r has to be painted.

Like in the time of Napoleon.

Since he came home,

he's no longer the same.

He refuses to return

to the country.

We were forced

to rent a new studio.

I hope he comes the funeral.

It would make Adolf happy

to see him.

And the girls too.

You'll be there tomorrow morning

for the burial?

- Say 9 o'clock?

- Hell!

I was walking home,

they bombed buildings.

I had to take shelter.

It's madness to stay in Paris.

Did you hear anything?

Vaguely.

Who is it?

Do I know her?

No. A Fine Arts student.

Don't worry, she has a fiance.

An American.

She was to join him,

but shipping is blocked.

What do you think of it?

Of what?

The painting...

how do you find it?

Not bad.

What do you mean, "not bad"?

If you still want to compete with

your cubist friends, it misses out.

If you want to stay true

to yourself, it's pretty good.

I've an appointment in the morning

at the dispensary, for my lungs.

I won't be back for lunch.

You can manage yourself.

He escaped on his own.

The villain.

It's me!

Act like I don't exist,

I'm used to it.

But...

Sorry, I should've known better.

You know each other?

We've crossed paths

in the stairs.

So The indolent One is you...

You'll think me absurd,

but I must tell you...

Your husband turned you

into a myth.

A myth?

At the Fine Arts,

you're a celebrity.

A myth that will have to

return to her pots.

I hardly found anything.

No meat, a few potatoes,

2 eggs...

And a piece of cheese.

Will you share our modest meal,

miss?

What's your pet name?

Renee.

Renee!

There's so much going on here.

What are you talking about?

Don't listen to her,

she's jealous.

I don't have reason

to be, perhaps?

Why don't you invite Renee

to 'Roulotte'?

Would you like to come

to the country, Miss?

With the w*r dragging on...

...we're surely not going to rot here,

waiting to starve.

What do you think, Pierre?

At your own risk.

So here we are.

Pierre, show Renee her room.

I'll try to find us

something to eat.

I know everything.

Everything.

The terrace.

I'm in the heart

of what gave meaning to my life.

Don't get me wrong, Renee.

Pierre and I live

a quite ordinary life here.

What is that?

The graves of Ubu and Poucette,

my darlings.

My little dogs.

Where did you put my blanket?

In the closet,

1st drawer on the left!

Folded, ironed, as usual.

Pierre told me that you

were of Italian origin?

Me too.

I was born in Rome,

I spent my childhood there.

And you?

Me? Yes.

Pierre, did you show

Renee her room?

Pierre!

The last person who slept here,

was Monet.

Claude Monet.

He went back down by boat

with 2 good bottles...

...to celebrate I don't know

what event anymore.

He would have been incapable

of getting back to Giverny.

So.

It was just before the w*r.

The poor man...

If he'd known

that he'd lose his son...

...then his wife...

Thanks. Thank you

for everything.

Oh, you have an eyelash.

Make a wish.

I'll let you settle in.

I'll find us something to eat.

I had a nightmare.

Come here.

Take off your nightgown.

I'll give you one.

I had a nightmare...

I was alone.

In a boat.

On the river.

And I was wearing a wedding dress.

The more I progressed, the more

I realized that I didn't know...

...where I was going

and that I was lost!

And so... Suddenly...

I heard a noise...

Someone or something

that was knocking.

I've...

I was afraid...

I pulled on my dress...

but the bottom

of the boat opened...

...and a hand grabbed me

by the ankles...

...and I found myself underwater...

And my dress closed around me...

And I felt the hand

which pulled me down...

I struggled...

Pierre!

WHICH DO YOU PREFER?

THE BRUNETTE? THE BLONDE?

WHICH DO YOU PREFER?

You'll have to choose, Pierre!

Renee!

Renee!

What are you doing?

Where are you going?

What's it about?

What did I do wrong?

Did I hurt you?

Forget it.

Don't go!

I beg you, stay!

We're so happy there.

You gave me a taste for life again.

I...

Hold on.

I'll get the car.

We'll talk inside.

Talk?

In the car?

I'm not a child that we calm

with a ride in a car.

I'm a woman

and I'm in love with you.

What happened between us...

I wanted it.

But I was never fooled.

Neither by you

nor by Marthe.

I prefer to get out of the game

before it's too late.

The game?

What game?

Renee, Renee...

I love you.

And Marthe loves you too.

It's true.

I'm sure she...

That she loves you

as much as I do.

No.

Marthe loves you above all.

And its Marthe you love.

I will never be more...

...than a pretty girl

who stirred the embers...

...of a dying fire.

I have to leave

before it's too late.

I'm going to find a boat

for New York.

Don't do that!

You're wrong!

It's you that I love!

Then prove it.

What?

That its me you love...

Prove it.

How?

Marry me.

You're kidding?

You see?!

You're not ready to sacrifice

your life with Marthe to keep me.

Goodbye.

Your nephew is understanding.

The w*r is barely over,

and you're showing off with him in Rome.

I'm not showing off.

I'm going to inaugurate a museum.

Come on...

Come with me.

Just like that...

without any luggage?

Does your nephew know

that I exist?

You never introduced me

to your family.

Oh no...

Write me!

At 'Roulotte'!

Write to me at 'Roulotte'!

I love you!

I don't know...

I don't know. I don't know...

It's a decent house.

We don't want people...

You understand me.

Do you want children?

As soon as we are

officially married.

If you knew how many lovers

have lived here!

And so many children!

Today it's almost empty.

An elderly couple

lives on the top floor...

...but we never see them.

They are so old...

...that we wonder

if they're still there.

For a French woman...

...you speak Italian well, Miss.

I was born here.

We lived in this neighbourhood

with my parents.

This house belonged

to the Marcantonio Colonna family.

The prince lived here...

...at the beginning

of the last century.

Then, all his descendants...

...until the last one

lost his wife here...

...in this house.

Overnight, he left everything

and disappeared.

He was never heard of again.

A 1st version

of Saint Matthew and the Angel...

...was refused by its sponsors.

Considered too trivial.

The angel, very equivocal,

much too carnal...

...was sprawled on a Saint Matthew

who was a little too rustic.

With dirty feet.

This one is much

more conventional.

It's hard to conceive

how much this work at the time...

...even more than

his shameless angel...

...impacted with its

revolutionary style.

I'd like to understand.

Understand what?

How he makes it

so true to life.

But there's nothing

to understand.

Caravaggio was a violent man,

brawling, deeply immoral.

He wasn't afraid to draw-in

life's grey areas.

I feel that this speech

is addressed to me.

Can you expand?

You're not tired of people calling you

the painter of happiness?

Caravaggio was a criminal.

I'm a child at heart.

I don't think you can reach such heights

without putting yourself in danger.

I would like to see myself

m*rder someone...

...to paint such a masterpiece.

What do you think, my darling?

Pierre!

Marthe! Are you there?

- There you go...

- Pierre!

They are there, master, look!

I'm on my own.

I was starting to worry.

I thought you might

be sick again.

Vuillard arrived this morning,

we jumped in the boat.

Pierre is in Rome with his nephew

who was appointed to the French School.

They inaugurate a museum.

Ah good?

We won't be a bother?

No, but I've nothing

to give you to eat.

But I have everything planned.

A nice piece of rabbit pate.

A roast cooked with chanterelles.

Tomatoes from the garden,

a romaine.

The creme caramel

you love so much.

And a good Bordeaux

to wash it all down.

Germain will come and pick us up

tonight in the car.

Marthe?

My little Marthe...

What are you doing?

My little Marthe...

Pierre didn't tell me

that he was going to Rome.

It happened on a whim.

Go keep him company.

I'll take care of lunch.

He's refined his style a lot.

You think so?

We come, with time,

to paint only the essentials.

Not to paint more

than the essence of things.

What has he gone to do in Rome?

To see his nephew,

who's established there.

Inaugurate a museum,

visit churches.

Without you?

You prefer lunch

in the garden or inside?

I'm coming!

What do you prefer?

Outside or inside?

Outside.

In this light, I'll have the pleasure

of seeing your eyes.

Stop there.

There is an expression in the Orient

to tell someone you love them.

They say... Bury me.

To never see the other die,

before yourself.

My son...

Jean, is dead...

it's a terrible thing.

But there is one thing

even more terrible.

What I came to tell you, Marthe.

To you alone.

I miss Alice.

I miss her every day.

If you only knew

how much I miss her.

Do you have a corkscrew?

Left drawer of the chest!

Pierre is very lucky

to have you, Marthe.

How lucky I was to have Alice.

I'm not sure

that he thinks like you.

You'll see.

One day he'll understand.

Crusted rabbit pate,

rillons, garlic sausage,

roasted pork loin

and crme caramel.

Who can top that?

Wine. I forgot the wine!

Could you imagine

that my madness for water lilies..

...would be honoured

by the government.

In the basements

of the Orangery...

...they're are talking about

a space just for them.

It's almost autumn...

They're returning home.

Marthe, don't worry.

Pierre always knew

to get back to basics.

He knows his work is inseparable

from what he feels for you.

Sweetheart?

Are you coming?

I'm working, my love.

Yes, but I want to be with you.

You could make an effort.

Leave me, please.

I'd like to finish.

What a funny idea.

What?

It was so good...

why did you add a figure?

Who is it?

Who, what?

Who's the woman

in the foreground?

Is it Marthe?

Listen, I have nothing against her,

but still...

We're about to get married.

I'm going to have to go home, Renee.

Go home?

Home, where?

My house.

I'll have to go home.

Here, I can't work

the way I want to.

But this is home, here.

Do you want us

to get married, anymore?

But it's in 3 days!

I'm sorry.

Sorry?

You made me believe in this charade

to get to that?

You're a liar!

You don't love me,

you never loved me.

I do love you, Renee.

- It's nothing to do with it.

- No, you don't love me.

You used me!

You and Marthe used me!

You have done your pathetic little

carrying-on at my expense!

I was sincere.

And Marthe too.

Sincere? Marthe?

What if I was pregnant?

I'll provide for your needs.

And those of the child.

You won't lose anything.

Go to hell!

- Join her if you like!

- Calm down!

I hate domestic scenes.

I only wanted

to be your wife.

I wanted to be... yours.

With you. Be a family.

So we stay as we've both

always been.

I was wrong.

I lacked courage.

Forgive me.

Renee!

No! Don't touch me!

Don't touch me!

Duckling took up painting.

It's crap.

No.

It's good.

Very good, in fact.

You just say that

to make amends.

No, I really mean it.

I'd say that with a few lessons,

you could really go far.

Forget it, it's too late.

I'm going to make coffee.

No!

I...

Get back to work.

I think it's time that you and I

regulated the situation.

What a situation?

You really want

to be my wife?

Mrs Bonnard, officially?

And your family?

You're my family.

Maria Boursin?

No, but still!

You can blame me

for some things, but that...

Maria Boursin...

What are you going to tell me?

That you have 7 brothers and sisters

hidden somewhere...

...and a dependent mother?

Thank you so much.

Darling!

But what a great start! What a start!

I'm still completely overwhelmed.

When I saw your invitation

signed Marthe Solange...

I took a few minutes

to understand.

But I hadn't seen your note

on the back. So adorable!

So this is it...

you're a true artist...

If that's what you wanted,

I'm very happy for you.

Hello Misia...

It's kind of you to come.

Kind? No, it's natural.

Aren't we old friends?

Jose Maria Sert.

My new husband.

He is also a great painter.

Hello, Martha.

Glad to meet you.

And then, all these paintings...

Pierre.

I'm going to go say hello to him.

You're busy.

We'll talk later.

Pierre!

Oh! My darlings!

My darlings, my darlings...

Oh...

It's her?

Please let me introduce you...

Henri Dumont, collector.

Who remembers little Montchaty?

- Montchaty?

- Yeah.

- No, why?

- A Fine Arts student.

She came to pose for us.

- The little blonde?

- Yes.

- Very cute!

- Yes.

- Renee. I remember.

- Pierre?

Do you remember little Montchaty?

- She posed for you.

- Renee. Yes.

Yes...

You're not aware?

She committed suicide.

In Rome.

She was found in her bathtub,

bathed in her blood.

- Oh!

- Pierre!

Oh...

Pierre?

- Pierre...

- What is it?

Renee is dead.

I k*lled her.

Do you want to go home?

Do you want to go home?

- Now?

- Yes.

Your showing...

What? My showing's

not going to fly away.

- You're sure?

- Yes.

Let's go home. Come on.

We're going home.

Pierre is tired, me too.

We're going home.

It's the best thing we can do.

Pierre?

Marthe?

Are you awake?

Marthe!

Marthe?

The almond tree...

The almond tree we thought dead,

is starting to flower again.

In the middle of October.

Here.

You lost your glasses again.

Yes?

Yes?

Ah, hello, Charles.

Of course I'm here...

I'm waiting for you.

See you later.

Marthe?

Marthe!

Marthe...

Really?

You were a painter, too,

Mrs Bonnard?

Have you even exhibited in Paris?

It was a long time ago.

Yes, I did.

At the Druet gallery.

Do you remember?

There were all our friends.

Goodbye, Mrs Bonnard.

Bury me.

Eh?

Bury me.

'Bye.

What did she mean?

Pardon?

"Bury me."

She said bury me.

You heard it too.

What did she mean?

Don't pay too much attention

to what she says.

She's not all there anymore.

Be brave.

My uncle, Pierre Bonnard.

Mr Montegazza.

The notary I told you about,

who's here from Rome.

Come in, come in...

Mr Bonnard, its an honour.

The client I spoke about

to Mr Terrace, found this...

...in the apartment he has

just acquired in Rome.

According to my research...

...it's this apartment

where was found dead...

...Miss Montchaty,

about twenty years ago.

The apartment remained

under sequestration a long time...

...before being sold

recently at auction.

The worker who started work on it,

found this at the bottom of a closet.

Before throwing it away,

he asked his superior for advice.

As a man of taste, the latter

alerted the owner, who called me.

The painting...

...was not signed.

But as a lover of your work...

...it seemed to me right away,

to be your palette.

Judge for yourself.

Good heavens!

I left it in Rome.

I'd completely forgotten about it.

Without signature,

it has no value.

But under the law,

that suits us.

To close the matter, I think...

...that this painting

is rightfully yours.

Pierre!

Pierre!

She's there!

- Marthe!

- She's there...

Pierre... She's there, Pierre...

She's there.

Who?

Renee?

She's dead, Marthe.

There's nothing we can do about it.

So stop with this!

If it's anyone's fault,

it's mine.

Marthe!

Marthe?

Marthe!

The almond tree!

It's covered in flowers!

That's good. Be quiet.

And to think I wanted

to have it cut down!

I'm going to draw it.

And then I'm going to paint it.

For you.

This way is better, right?

My uncle!

You don't want to sleep at home?

Madeleine is worried

about you being alone.

Madeleine is worried?

About what?

I'm not grieving.

I'm just downright furious...

and I want to scream!

sh*t! sh*t! sh*t and sh*t!

All this is sorely lacking in yellow,

don't you think?

Come on, Pierre!

Pierre!

Come on!

Pierre! Come!

Come on, come on!

Come on!

Come on, come on!

Come on!

Come on, come on!

Pierre died in 1947,

5 yeas after Marthe.

He is buried beside her at

Notre-Dame-Des-Anges du Cannet.

He painted more than 2,000 works

of which almost a third are of Marthe,

though it's uncertain if

she is the subject in some.