The Art of Love

Hey! What the heck's goin' on?

Just tidyin' up. Go back to sleep.

Paul. Paul, have you gone crazy?

I've been crazy, I'm now goin' sane!

"Paris Pastorale!"

This one almost sold!

Here's another one that almost sold.

"The Moulin Blues."

That was one of your best works.

Oh? How about "The Maiden of Versailles?"

Oh, no, you don't! You're not gonna demolish "The Maiden."

Oh? Who's not?

She's mine! You gave her to me!

Casey, give me that painting!

- No, sir! - They're my paintings.

- I'll do with them what I want. - Here, mind this for me.

Boy, is she a sound sleeper!

Come on, Paul, what's gotten into you?

I'm goin' back to the States.

You're not serious.

Oh? Watch how I pack my suitcase.

Here, I'll leave these with you.

Oh!

- Oh, she can sleep! - Casey, who is she?

I stole her out of a parked convertible last night.

You sto... You know something, Casey?

You're getting absolutely depraved!

There, shake hands with a real doll.

Oh! For...

Here, matched set, his and hers.

Now look, why are you leaving? One good reason!

Casey, I am...

sick of being supported by my fiance's father.

I'm sick of supporting you!

I'm sick of Paris! And I'm also a stinking artist!

- Is that good enough? - No!

First, you're a heck of an artist.

I have never sold one painting.

Well, I haven't sold one story.

Does that make me a stinking writer?

- Yes. - I can't accept that.

Alright, let's just leave it that I haven't seen

my girlfriend in a year and... And I miss her, okay?

You're really gonna marry her, huh?

- That's right. I am. - Okay, Paul.

Look, I... I know you're mind's made up,

so, anything I say now, I sincerely believe.

Casey, the only thing you sincerely believe in is sex.

True. And your ability.

Paul...

when we moved into this place, I admired this and...

Well, you gave it to me.

Since then I've said to myself,

"Case, you may be a fake, but you will never die

an unknown because you own this painting."

It's my proof, that I knew you, that we once shared a studio.

Paul, without meaning to,

you're giving me a tiny truck with immortality.

Oh!

For that, I thank you.

Hey, you know something, Casey? You're a terrible man.

Boy, you would say anything to keep me

and my check here, wouldn't you?

Yes, and in that order, you first, your check second.

- Uh-huh. - Aw, come on, Paul.

I could've sponged off people with bigger

weekly allowances than you, but I like you.

I like your paintings. I wish you'd stay.

Now, watch it, Case.

A faint touch of honest emotion crept in there.

Yeah! How 'bout that?

- Oh, no! No, sir! - Oh, no.

- Alright, where are you going? - To Zorgus'.

To pick up the rest of my masterpieces.

Whoa. Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul.

Now, look, just for the sake of sentiment...

after you and Laurie get married

will you try to send me a little money?

Oh...

No!

- Mr. Zorgus. - No, Mr. Sloane.

I have not sold any of your paintings.

In that case, Mr. Zorgus,

I'd like you to return them. Where are they?

- In the washroom. - Hanging by the bowl.

I'll get 'em. I'll get 'em.

In the bath...

Is that where you display an artist's work?

My walls are too valuable to cover with junk.

Junk?

- This isn't junk? - Oh, yes.

But this junk people buy.

Oh, Mr. Sloane.

I have tried to sell your paintings, believe me.

- I bet you have. - Oh!

I think you're a good painter.

Your artist friends think you're a good painter.

The prince thinks you're a good painter.

- No, I don't. - Shut up.

But the customers wouldn't buy.

If I'm so good, why won't they buy?

Because they never heard of you.

So, of course, they assume you're a bum.

- A bum? - Yes, a bum.

Shut up.

What do you have to do to get a break?

- Cut off an ear? - That's not a bad idea.

That's good publicity.

How 'bout if I slit my throat?

You got a deal. You kill yourself,

I buy all this junk right now.

Oh, Mr. Sloane, believe me!

Dead artists are more saleable.

- Like hotcakes, they sell. - Shut up.

- Hello, Mrs. Fromkis. - Bonjour, Mr. Casey.

Taxi!

It's not enough you owe me rent, you have to steal my profit?

Don't worry about it, Mr. Fromkis.

Just put it on the tab.

Why didn't you put the cab on the tab?

- Where to, sir? - Coco La Fontaine.

Coco La Fontaine in the afternoon?

I go there every afternoon.

You go to a nightclub in the afternoon?

It's the only way I can get a good table. Let's go.

Now, hold it, hold it, hold, hold it, hold it.

Darling, please try to understand

that you are the daughter of King Neptune!

You are a princess of the deep!

Here, here, let me show you, look, look, look.

Now, you have to handle this grass

as if it were a satin nightgown. See?

- Like this, huh? Huh? - Oui.

- Oui. - Yea h, oui, yea h, oui.

And not like a lotta limp lettuce, okay?

- Oui. - Yeah, oui-Here, here.

You're late, Somerset.

I thought maybe you had decided to write

your great novel about somebody else's establishment.

Oh, never!

Girls, come and say hello to George Bernard.

Well, who's life story have you decided to hear today?

I'm sorry, but I don't have time for research today.

- Oh! - Oh!

The poor chickens will be so disappointed.

Here, take a look at that!

Here, girls, presies these around.

Now, whose little abstract doodles are these?

A brilliant young artist by the name of Paul Sloane

whose career and mine you hold in your lovely hands.

And how did they get into my lovely hands?

Madame Coco, if I don't sell some of these paintings today

I'm afraid I can't go ahead with my book about you and your club.

What's one got to do with the other?

Paul Sloane has made it possible for me to live in Paris.

You mean he keeps you?

Sponsors me.

Unless he sells some of these paintings,

he's going to leave Paris.

And if he leaves Paris, my book,

our book, "The House That Coco Built"

may never get published.

Uh, you mean, uh, he'd stay if I bought some paintings?

Yes. The whole lot for a 1000 Francs. What do you say?

Oh, well, um, alright.

Ladies, you all got yourselves a piece of art.

You know, um, on second thought, it...

it might give a little... extra class to the place.

My mother had a hand-painted picture once.

It was of my father...

in a tropical setting.

He was leaning on a bunch of bananas.

Fromkis? Ask Paul to come to the phone, please.

I'm a delicatessen, not a phone company. He's not here.

Yeah, well... A... alright, well, when he comes in,

would you tell him to rush right over to Coco La Fontaine's

at 42 Rue St. Leger?

Yeah, it's a matter of life and death.

Hold the wire!

My chopped herring is more important than

his whole life and death.

What's the number?

Coco La Fontaine's, 42 Rue St. Leger.

"St. Leger." Alright.

- Thanks, Mr. Fromkis. - You're welcome.

Sarah.

When Mr. Picasso comes in, give him this message.

A business card you use?

A piece of brown paper you couldn't find? You think...

Sarah.

My feet hurts and I have gas. Just give the message.

Uh, that's about right, girls.

Look, Casey, I've got my plane ticket,

there's nothing you could do or say to stop...

Voila! Paul Sloane's first professional showing!

They look pretty good hanging there, don't they, kid?

I must say they sure have brightened up

our little place, Leonardo.

Casey, what kind of a place is this to hang art?

What difference does it make what kind of a place