Previously on Genius...
-I loved you the first moment I saw you. -And why in God's name
would I trade one broke artist for another?
FERNANDE: Opium.
I want to make you happy. I worship you, Fernande.
PABLO: Only Matisse.
No, this artist has more than just talent.
He has vision. He's bent all the rules,
and I want to smash them.
We have done it, Pablo.
FERNANDE: When the Autumn Salon opens,
-you'll both be sensations. -PABLO: Matisse.
-PABLO: I'm not submitting it. -APOLLINAIRE: But why?
It's not good enough.
This is exactly how you raised me.
To stand up for myself.
I warned you to stay away from Picasso.
You're not actually in love with him, are you?
My African masks protect me against all evil spirits.
We found her wandering along the river,
but there was no evidence of an attack.
Perhaps you should take her to the hospital.
I don't think she's in her right mind.
You think she doesn't mind because she's such
a free thinker, but she does mind, very much.
I'm sorry, I thought I could do things your way, but I can't.
I'm going to look after myself, and I hope you look after Dora.
*
(seagulls squawking)
EMILE: Jump, Françoise.
FRANCOISE: No, Papa. I can't.
EMILE: Jump.
Papa, please don't make me.
The world is not kind to women, Françoise.
You must learn to be as strong as a man.
Come on, now.
I'm sorry, I...
(screams)
(clears throat)
-How did it happen? -The power was out.
I couldn't see a thing. I slipped down the stairs.
Are you in terrible pain?
I've been through worse.
Uh...
-Are these for me? -Yes.
-I love them. -Why?
Because they are absolutely absurd.
(laughing) Yeah. Yeah.
Well...
How is Dora?
Oh, she's doing much better now.
-Is she home from the hospital? -Yes.
She's in psychotherapy.
Even going to church. Imagine--
a surrealist who believes in God.
But don't worry, I'm taking care of her.
Now...
let me take care of you.
I tried your arrangement, Pablo.
It didn't work for me.
These past few months, uh, I have missed you, terribly.
You inspire me and-and challenge me.
What about Dora?
Dora and I are through.
And what about Marie-Thérèse?
Well, she's the mother of my child.
But we haven't been lovers in years.
I only want you, Françoise.
All the time.
Hmm.
You were the one who...
who said we shouldn't see each other too often,
that too much passion
burns itself out.
But you don't think I'm always right, do you?
It's a lot to think about. I need some time.
Of course.
I have the use of a house by the sea.
In Golfe-Juan.
Go. Recover.
Bring a friend.
Take your time.
Think about what you want.
But don't make me wait too long.
(chuckles)
JACOB: At long last,
the critics have spoken.
(giggles) Listen to this.
Mauclair calls Matisse
and his merry band of imitators
"a pot of paint flung
in the public's face."
And, uh, "a Donatello
among wild beasts."
FERNANDE: Matisse?
A wild beast? How awful.
PIERET: Aren't you tickled, Pablo?
Had you submitted to the Autumn Salon,
it could've been you they savaged.
Who the hell are you?
Pablo, I introduced you last week.
This is Géry Pieret,
my secretary. (chuckles)
You're a poet, Guillaume.
Why in God's name do you need a secretary?
(chuckles)
You're all fools.
Can't you see? Matisse succeeded.
Critics are-are rotting corpses who still think
Impressionism is the modern style, for God's sake.
The fact that they hate Matisse
only proves how great he is.
"Wild beast." It's a badge of honor.
My work would never attract such anger.
I need to be more offensive.
More abhorrent.
I need my work to shock.
WOMAN: It's positively revolting.
Look.
She has monkey feet.
The artist is playing with proportions.
Or maybe he can't draw feet.
If you want to be a real collector, Gertrude,
learn the lingo. Line, shape, form, light...
Ah, Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stein.
Welcome back. A stunning piece, no?
Hmm. I do find it intriguing.
She'd make a beautiful addition to yours and, uh,
your sister's collection.
And she's only 200 francs.
For that?
You... you have got to be kidding.
Oh, she will be worth double next year.
Uh, did I hear you mention "monkey,"
Mademoiselle Stein?
I have another Picasso
I think you might like.
If I take them both,
will you knock a few francs off the price?
Good God, Leo, don't.
-Shh. -Ah...
I will give you the pair for 350 franc.
Sold.
Now, tell me, this Picasso--
do you know where I can find his studio?
Oh! Yes. But, uh, I must warn you, uh,
Pablo is a, uh, tricky little character.
(knocking)
LEO: Good afternoon.
I'm looking for a Mr. Picasso.
Who?
Picasso. I was told he lived here.
There is no Picasso here. Good-bye.
If you do see him,
would you please tell him that
the collectors Leo and Gertrude Stein
just purchased two of his paintings?
We'd like to invite him to our Saturday salon.
Oh.
Dinner jackets optional.
But tell him he may want to wear pants.
Pablo Picasso, meet Henri Matisse.
A pleasure, Monsieur Picasso.
(softly clears throat)
And you, too, mademoiselle, uh...
Fernande Olivier.
Ah. Enchanté.
LEO: Pretty spectacular, no?
Truly original.
Critics hated it.
I think it's splendid, Monsieur Matisse.
And I love your dinner jacket.
Is it imported?
It is, uh, Scottish tweed from Aberdeen.
You have quite the eye, huh?
Monsieur Stein, this room, this shrine to art--
it's breathtaking.
You have such taste.
-Mm. -GERTRUDE: Well, that's debatable.
Gertrude Stein, Leo's sister.
Nobody was assuming you're my wife.
(chuckles) Leo, shall I tell Henri what you said
about Woman with a Hat the first time you saw it?
(chuckles softly)
MATISSE: Eh, Monsieur Picasso,
I hear the Steins have purchased two of your works, huh?
There's one right over here.
Gertrude, should I tell Mr. Picasso
what you said about his painting the first time you saw it?
I said I hate the feet. I still do, so I covered them.
Mm. I quite like them.
They remind me, in a way, of primitive sculpture.
Well, they remind me of the gout.
I think the painting would be
far superior without them.
Would you mind terribly if we...
uh, just cut them off, Mr. Picasso?
I suppose that's a no. (chuckles)
FERNANDE: You can't just leave.
Do you think I'm going to stand there and be insulted
while you flirt with every man in sight?
What are you talking about?
I saw how you were with Matisse,
that condescending bastard.
I was just trying to be nice.
Next time, try without your hands.
Are you honestly jealous of Henri Matisse?
Of course not.
Then why are you running?
The Steins are serious collectors.
Think of what they could do for your career.
We need to make friends with them.
How am I supposed to make friends with that rhinoceros?
Paint her portrait.
Why the hell would I do that?
Every woman wants to be painted.
It makes them feel beautiful, a-and I suspect Gertrude
hasn't been made to feel that way too often.
I am not
a portrait painter for hire.
Matisse painted a portrait
and he caused quite a stir, no?
How would you like me?
You can take off the jacket.
And the hat.
Oh, since I'm modeling for you,
I was thinking I'd remove everything but the hat.
What?
I was under the impression you wanted
to paint a bold response to Matisse.
Clothes on.
Hat off. Please.
-What do you think of Renoir? -He's a hack.
-Monet? -Wallpaper.
-Cézanne? -Is this some sort of test?
My brother says I don't know enough about art.
Some advice:
stop listening to your brother.
Pablo, I'm enjoying our time,
but this must be your 40th attempt.
Maybe if I look at it...?
Not until I'm finished.
This can't be just an ordinary painting
if I'm going to outdo Matisse.
-I'm sorry. -For what?
I know I'm not pretty like your other models.
Nonsense.
You are magnificent.
I just...
need to find a way to truly capture you.
GERTRUDE: I'm an artist too, you know?
A writer.
And you've inspired me to write a novel, Pablo.
Can I write
while you paint?
I'm sorry. I need to see your eyes.
Fine.
I'll work it out in my head.
Who knows-- at this rate, I might finish before you do.
(laughs)
MATISSE: What I love most is her shape.
African artists aren't constrained
by classical notions of the-the female anatomy.
They do... (exclaims) as they feel.
And so should we.
Ah. Henri's showing you one of the inspirations
behind his latest masterpiece.
Come.
What do you think?
PICASSO: It's...
absolutely extraordinary.
I hear you have started work
on something special with Gertrude.
How's it coming?
Yes, how is it coming?
"Something is coming out of him,
"certainly it is coming out of him,
"certainly it is something,
certainly it is coming out of him and it has meaning..."
You finished?
I am.
But the painting is not.
Please go.
Oh...
I do-I don't... I don't understand.
I look at your face, but...
I cannot see it anymore.
FERNANDE: No, Pablo. What are you doing?
Oh, my Lord.
Apollinaire was invited to the Steins for their Saturday salon
and he brought that secretary of his.
What's his name? Pieret.
He tried to steal a Cézanne right off the wall.
(laughs)
And Max was there. Drunk, of course.
I don't care about gossip, Fernande.
Please.
I'm working.
Why are you in such a foul mood all of a sudden?
You're right.
Let's get some sun.
Françoise! I've made new friends.
They want to take us for a drink.
You go on. I'm busy.
Françoise, I traveled all the way down here
to have some fun with you and all you do is paint.
And, uh, what are you doing now--
writing your memoirs?
-A letter. -To whom?
Let me guess-- not your grandmother.
FRANCOISE: "Dear Pablo..."
PICASSO: "Thank you for your generosity.
"I'm very happy, so no point
in you troubling yourself to visit."
What the hell does that mean?
Sounds like she doesn't want to see you.
(sighs)
Get the car.
Pablo.
-Where is she? -Françoise?
-She's out for a walk. -Why did she tell me not to come?
I have no idea...
Has she found someone else?
Or are you poisoning her against me?
-Why in God's name... -Or maybe you are jealous that I chose her and not you.
I could fix that.
What's going on?
Picasso tried to seduce me.
PICASSO: I'm sorry for snapping at you.
It's just...
we came here to escape the snobs and pretenders of Paris.
So when you read to me about Pieret and...
I understand.
It's different here. We Spaniards are simple.
Warm, welcoming.
What if we stayed a bit longer?
-Stop that. -Shame on you.
What? Is a man not allowed to express his love for his woman?
She's not your wife.
Whore.
-(laughing): What in God's name? -(laughing): Come on.
-Sinners! -Sacrilege!
(laughs)
Yes, the Spanish are very warm and welcoming.
(both laugh)
What is it?
Have you ever seen anything like that?
A statue of Mary and Jesus?
I've seen a few.
This one is different.
The wood, the contours.
It must be centuries old.
Iberian, I suppose.
It's a sign.
Of what?
We should have a baby.
There's nothing in the world I would like more
than to have a family with you, Pablo.
But I can't.
When I was with my husband,
I got pregnant.
But I couldn't imagine what that horrible man
could do to a child, so I...
I found a doctor.
And it went wrong, and...
now I can never...
I understand if you don't want to be with me anymore.
Fernande,
you're my muse.
I need you.
But I'll never be able to give you what you want.
Oh, you already do.
Every day.
And today is no different.
You brought me here.
And now,
because of you,
I know how to finish my portrait of Gertrude.
GERTRUDE: It looks nothing like me.
Maybe not today,
but it will.
That's an awfully prominent spot.
I thought you liked Picasso.
He's no Matisse.
Henri's not going to like this.
What happened when Pablo
first saw Henri's portrait
hanging on our wall?
He offered to paint you. So what?
Well, what do you think Matisse will do
when he sees Pablo's portrait hanging above his own?
-He'll try to outdo him. -They make each other better.
MAN: Henri.
-You have a visitor. -Ah, Monsieur Picasso.
Welcome, and, uh...
I see you have already met Monsieur Braque.
He's, uh... Well, he's the youngest
of the "wild beasts," as they call us.
I saw your portrait of Gertrude.
It is captivating, huh?
A bold, uh, a bold challenge
to the classical notions of the female form.
-You should be very proud. -Thank you.
Mm. Gertrude's face did seem
strikingly familiar to me, but I couldn't place it.
And then it dawned on me.
She looked just like my African friend
who inspired my Bonheur de Vivre. Hm.
Are you accusing me of copying you?
Of course not.
We are artists. We must inspire each other.
Your African sculpture
had nothing to do with my portrait of Gertrude.
My influences are purely Iberian.
I am Spanish.
Yes, and, uh,
it seems you have quite the Spanish temper, hmm?
OLDER PICASSO: How can you write to me
and tell me not to come?
So you say you want to be with me and only me,
and then you try and take my best friend to bed?
Oh, please.
It was a joke.
You French-- you don't have sense of humor.
That's because you're not funny, Pablo.
Fine. You want to know the truth?
I was trying to offend her,
so she would go and you and I could be alone.
That is... ridiculous.
Because you make me do ridiculous things.
I told you I needed time to think.
It's been weeks!
And I have missed you.
I couldn't wait any longer.
And you think you're going to get what you want
by backing me into a corner.
Just... (sighs)
give me a chance to show you how life can be with me.
We-we are never alone in Paris.
Not for more than a few hours.
Just, please,
stay for a few days.
If I don't make you happy...
I will go.
FRANCOISE: Please don't leave like this.
You should come with me, Françoise.
I can't.
You're headed for disaster.
(engine starts)
Go and put on that purple blouse of yours.
And the...
willow green slacks.
That's quite specific.
I have a surprise for you.
Whose house is this?
An old friend of mine.
PICASSO: Henri, can you guess who Françoise's
favorite artist is?
Oh, but of course. Uh, uh, you.
No. In fact, it's you.
(laughs)
No...
PICASSO: (chuckles) Look at him.
You made him blush.
Look, look, look at him.
Hand me my sketch pad, Pablo.
Mademoiselle, please, uh, take a seat by the window.
PICASSO: No, no, no, no, no.
She...
She's not here to pose for you.
Oh, why should you be the only one who gets to paint her, huh?
Actually...
Pablo never painted me.
What? Why not?
-Well... -Yes.
Why not?
'Cause you are still an enigma to me.
I have never seen you like this before, Pablo.
(chuckles)
Well, I, uh,
I know how I would paint her.
I would make her hair green.
PICASSO: Of course you would.
To match the Persian rug you would paint her on.
-(laughs) -Huh?
I, uh, I, uh...
Better than making her skin blue
to match the tasteless red tile floor
that you would paint her on, huh?
40 years on, and the great Henri Matisse
is still trying to outdo me.
Come over here.
Un besito, un besito.
Un besito, ah... Listen to that.
LEO: It's absolutely stunning, Henri.
You've reimagined the female form again.
What do you think, Mr. Braque--
you proud to call Matisse your fearless leader?
(scoffs)
Look at this painting.
It is clear:
no one can follow him.
LEO: (short chuckle)
GERTRUDE: I hate to say it,
but Matisse has done it, again.
I know what you are doing.
What are you talking about?
You're trying to make me jealous so I'll outdo him.
And I will.
But first,
I need money to rent a new studio.
Mine has been taken over by Fernande's junk.
Ah.
There's one available on the floor above us,
but I can't afford it.
Consider it an advance on your next painting.
PICASSO: It's obvious he copied the face
from Iberian sculpture.
After I told him about them.
But Iberian art belongs to Spain.
You're goddamn right it does.
PIERET: I didn't know he went to Spain.
He saw them at the Louvre.
You idiot.
And now he's being celebrated
as the great modernist hero, again.
(Fernande laughs)
You are too funny.
Hey. What are you doing?
What the hell is wrong with you?
-Who was that? -Nobody.
I used to model for him.
Are you sleeping with him?
No, Pablo, I'm not.
But if you keep acting like a child, maybe I will.
Those women in Spain were right.
You a a whore.
Pablo.
(thumping)
-Pablo, let me out! -I will.
As soon as you prove that I can trust you again.
You're insane.
Pablo!
(exclaims)
(knocking)
PIERET: Hello? Pablo.
(door opens)
-Sorry to interrupt. -Pieret. What the hell
do you want?
I come bearing gifts.
Consider these a token of our new friendship.
You stole them...
from the Louvre?
I liberated them.
As you said, the Iberians belong to Spain, yes?
Who deserves them more?
A dusty old museum,
or the greatest Spanish painter in the world?
The statues are a gift, of course, but there is
a small... delivery fee,
so to speak.
50 francs.
PICASSO: Wasn't that a wonderful day?
FRANCOISE: It was perfect.
Thank you.
Hey.
Move in with me.
Think how wonderful it would be.
We could, uh, wake up together
and eat together and make, uh,
art together.
That sounds wonderful, but I don't think I'm ready for it.
And even if I were, I... I couldn't abandon my grandmother.
Well, but I need you more than she does.
Hmm.
She's done everything for me.
It would break her heart.
Yeah, but, uh, don't you deserve to be happy?
I do.
There's a price for everything, Françoise.
To create, you must destroy.
After all, the genius of Einstein
leads to Hiroshima.
You're the devil.
Huh. Is that so?
Well...
if I am the devil, then,
I should burn you
with hellfire.
No. I would-I would never.
(laughing): I would never.
I love your face too much.
Hey! Françoise!
I want to go back to Paris.
Oh, I-I forgot that you French cannot take a joke!
(wood creaking)
(door opens)
Fire! Get out! Fire!
(gasps) Help!
Help me!
I'm locked in!
What happened?
Kitchen fire in Léger's studio.
We stopped it before it spread.
Fernande?
Oh, thank God.
Where were you?!
I was trapped. You could have killed me!
I'm sorry! My love, I-I am so sorry.
I-I was at Apollinaire's...
-I am not your prisoner! -Of course not.
Of course not.
I made a mistake.
I don't know what I would do if I lost you.
You already have.
Please. Please.
Don't leave me.
I do ridiculous things because I love you.
Help me change.
I-I'll give you whatever you want. We'll...
We'll have a family.
Now you're just being cruel.
You know perfectly well that I can't.
There's another way.
(children shouting, laughing)
What's her name?
Raymonde.
She reminds me of my sister Conchita.
(door closes)
What's your favorite color?
Green.
Do you know how we make green?
Give me your hand.
Magic.
(Picasso laughs softly)
FERNANDE: I have a green dress.
We can hem it, and you can wear it to school.
PICASSO: You see?
It'll be such fun here.
(clears throat)
Don't worry.
We're going to be a very happy family.
Raymonde.
Let me show you where you will sleep.
Pablo, what are we doing here?
I asked you to take me home.
Whose apartment is this?
What do you want?
Tell her.
Tell her what?
That we are not together anymore.
Pablo.
I'm so sorry.
For what? It's true.
We are not together anymore.
He's all yours.
You see? Now we can go.
You should know, uh,
Pablo has never really loved anyone in his life.
He doesn't know how.
How can you say such a thing?
He will get tired of you,
the way he gets tired of every woman he falls for.
When it happens, don't be hurt.
It won't be your fault.
Come on.
Françoise!
-Françoise. -How could you be so cruel to her?
I did it for you.
So you would trust me when I say
that I am completely devoted to you.
Pablo, you're a monster.
How dare you?
After all I have done, I should throw you in the river.
Go ahead.
I can swim.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
(sighs)
I'm sorry. I...
...I don't know why I am like this.
I love you.
I don't mean to hurt you. I am s-I'm sorry.
Françoise. Françoise.
Françoise, please, look, listen, help me.
Help me.
Help me
to be a better man, Françoise.
Please.
What do you want?
I am just here to say hello.
You haven't surfaced in months.
Why do you care, Braque?
We barely know each other.
I would like to change that.
I really do admire your work.
Everyone's been talking about your big painting.
May I see?
It is not ready to be seen.
Those are magnificent busts.
-Where did you get them? -Spain.
Ah. Their primitive expression remind me of, um,
the African masks at the Trocadéro Museum.
Have you been?
I'm not interested in African art.
But these masks, they're not like, um,
Matisse's wood carvings.
They are something else, entirely.
I think you would find them inspiring.
Well...
sorry to have bothered.
(door closes)
(door opens)
I thought we were done.
RAYMONDE: Oh.
I'm sorry.
Raymonde. I...
I thought you were someone else.
Please. Come in, come in.
(door closes)
Do you like to paint?
The nuns never let us.
They said it make too much mess.
Well...
a mess doesn't bother me.
When I was young,
my father taught me that
to be a really good painter,
you must first learn how to draw.
He was right.
Master the rules,
so you know how to break them.
FRANCOISE: I know what you're going to say--
that I'm a silly girl
who's thinking about making the biggest mistake of her life.
I was going to say that you're as stubborn as your father.
Well, he trained me for Pablo, I suppose.
That doesn't mean that you have to spend your life with him.
But he needs me.
He's troubled.
And I do love him.
You're young.
You'll fall in love many times.
Not like this.
(doorbell rings)
*
Take off your dress.
*
You can put your dress back on.
I'm ready to paint you now.
FERNANDE: I put Raymonde to bed.
What is this?
A sketch.
You drew Raymonde naked?
I'm an artist. I draw nudes.
She's a child, Pablo. Our child.
And she's not embarrassed about herself. So what?
Oh, this is always how it starts.
First you paint her beautifully,
just like you used to paint me.
Then you turn her into a whore.
(scoffs) How dare you?
I brought Raymonde here for you.
Because I... because I love you.
Now you accuse me...
God knows what.
I'm sorry.
I know you would never hurt her.
Of course I wouldn't!
But we both know what happens to girls who grow up around here.
We will protect her.
What happens when we're not home?
Some drunk artist staggers in from down the hall?
This was a mistake.
You and I both know this is no place for a child.
PICASSO: The world is an ugly place.
Our friend, Matisse-- he paints beautifully.
But painting
isn't just about portraying beauty.
I learned that lesson around the time
I was losing my first love.
When I discovered
the Trocadéro Museum.
It was revolting.
The smell.
(chuckles)
I wanted to get out, but I stayed.
And then I saw them.
Dozens of them.
I saw right away
they weren't like Matisse's statues.
You know, they weren't art at all.
They were magic.
(indistinct chatter)
I felt that everything was hostile.
Women.
Children.
Animals.
Everything.
I finally understood what those masks meant.
They were weapons...
...to protect against evil.
I grasped why I was an artist.
My brush was my weapon.
*
My shield.
My protector.
I knew what to do.
I had to find the ugliness
beneath the beauty.
You want to see?
But Pablo, it's beautiful.
PICASSO: That's how I see you.
You are different than the others.
You see the beauty beneath my ugliness.
GERTRUDE: Is this a joke?
(chuckles)
That is the most astute art critique
you have ever given, Gertrude.
Mm.
(Leo clears throat)
(Gertrude sighs)
Chin up.
You're only 26.
Matisse didn't hit his stride
until he was 35.
For God's sake, Guillaume,
you always have an opinion.
Say something.
I'm sorry, my friend, I...
...I don't think you want to hear it this time.
Well... congratulations.
For what?
You said you wanted to offend.
Be abhorrent.
You've done it.
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH