The Tattoo (Le Tatoué)

THE TATTOO

- Have you worked a bit? - Yes.

- Beautiful, no? - Very good. Very good. 400.

- No, Mr Mézeray. Prices are going up. - 300 then.

- And what's that? - That's a station.

Just a little station. 200.

- And that? - You get that...

- Oh no, I'll pay for it. - You'll get that at 700.

- All the hours, the canvas, the paint. - Yes, and the drying.

- Well, Mr Dubois? - Excuse me.

It's late. We'll continue tomorrow. You can get dressed.

- So, how many paintings am I buying? - We discussed...

- You get that one for 300. - Wait a moment. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

- Seven. - That doesn't make eleven.

- That one makes 8. - But then I'm three short.

- Show me. - Sir, how dare you?

- What's that? - A tattoo.

Looks like a reproduction of Modigliani.

A reproduction, me?

- Show me. - Step back, young man.

- Don't tell me... - I have nothing to tell you.

- You knew it? - No.

And you didn't tell me? I want to see that tattoo right away.

Mr Legrain, let me introduce you to Mr Mézeray.

A great art lover and art investor.

- And an even bigger jerk. - Is it really a Modigliani?

- It's a Modigliani. - A real one?

- Never doubt the word of a legionnaire. - But did Modigliani really make it?

- Damn. - You're right.

- Mr Legrain, I'll buy it from you. - I'm not a sausage or a leg of pork.

- 500,000. Wait, one million. - Do you want me to smack you?

- Gentlemen, gentlemen. - Shut up, you.

- Shut up? - Not you, he.

I offer two million for what you have on your back.

What I have on my back?

- Do you think I'm a whore, you idiot? - Three.

- Mr Dubois, you know some strange people. - Excuse me, sir.

I already told you to shut up.

- I need three more paintings. - I need time.

Paint your grandpa, your grandma. Everybody.

My God, you're pushy.

Mr Legrain, listen to me. Listen.

Wait.

Don't leave.

Twenty million. Look. Look.

Well?

Isn't that good?

Mr Legrain, that's not bad, is it? Where are you?

Can you hear me?

What do you think? What's your answer?

Never mind. Very good. Perfect. Very good.

It was very good, perfect. Very, very good.

- What's he like? - Put it there, please.

- What's he like? - Very charming, friendly, well-mannered.

- Really friendly? - Very friendly.

- You don't mind that he's black? - Of course not.

- Do you mind that he's black? - No.

- You're not a racist? - Of course not.

- Are you a racist? - Not at all.

Me neither. Horrible.

- Say excuse me. - Excuse me.

- How big is the painting? - What did you say?

How big is it?

The size?

And the price?

Wait, wait.

First of all, it's a Modigliani.

Secondly, it's a very good Modigliani.

Thirdly, it's the only one in the world and it's been tattooed on human skin.

- On a beautiful back. - Good, but what's it going to cost?

Good, exactly.

Before we discuss the price of the Modigliani...

you have to buy all this. All this.

There's this and this and this. Look, this one's mine. So beautiful.

They won't sell.

That's why I'm selling them to you.

- What did you say? - They're terrible.

No, no. They're horrible.

I hate them. You get them for a good price.

- 150 million. - Never.

If you want the Modigliani, you'll have to buy them all, for 150 million.

Out of the question. Never. Never.

- Hello, can you hear me? - Yes, sir.

- Get Bernheim in New York on the phone. - No, not Bernheim.

- Well? - Agreed. 150 million.

- 160. - You said 150 earlier.

- 170. - Listen...

- 180. - Alright, agreed.

- Hello, can you hear me? - Yes, sir.

Keep Mr Bernheim on hold a bit longer.

- No, cash. - I don't have it.

- You do. - No.

Mr Bernheim.

Listen, you're very friendly, but I prefer to see you there.

- Is that alright? - No, Mr Bernheim!

- Yes. A bit faster. - Good.

Time to breathe.

Alright, there we go again.

We'll go see Mr Legrain. Keep going, or else...

A gentleman. Very charming. Very polite.

Mr Legrain.

Mr Legrain!

Again?

- And with accomplices. - No, I'll explain everything.

Well, so will I.

- Bayonet on rifle and attack! - No!

- Oh yes. - No.

Don't let him scare you.

And English too. Our arch-enemies.

- No, they're Americans. - 'Raus'.

- They're from New York. - That's the same thing.

- No, it's not. - Yes, it is.

- They killed the Indians. - He's right about that.

- Shut up or I'll take your scalp. - No.

- Yes. - No.

They go to the moon with computers, but they eat their leg of lamb with jam.

- Oh no. - Yes, with your jazz trumpets, your...

TV's and your depopulation pills. - Gentlemen, 'go home'.

- They just want to see your back. - Damn, I'm not a museum.

- Yes... - No...

But in memory of General Pershing, I'll show you my back.

- Now you'll see. - You in the corner, maniac. There.

- You don't look. - Alright.

- The visit is over. - Thank you.

Must be from 1918...

Wrong. July 14, 1919. The night after the victory march.

- Eleven kilometres. Everybody was beat. - You knew Modigliani?

- Yes, he knew him very well. - No, young man. I didn't know him.

It was in a bar in Montparnasse, around 2 at night.

A man wanted to tattoo a woman on my back.

Yes, sir, and I laid down on the pool table.

Yes, sir, and years later I heard that was Modigliani.

It didn't matter to me, because I stayed in the Legion.

Yes, yes, son.

Ah, it's you. Here.

- What's wrong? - My foot.

- Say excuse me. - Are you making fun of me?

You taught me that.

- Why do you look at me like that? - What?

- Because I'm a servant? - What?

- Because I'm black? - You're not black.

- Yes, I am. - Not completely.

- What do you have that I don't? - I... what?

- What do you have that I don't? - A lot.

- What then? - What?

What do you have that I don't?

Good evening, sir.

- Do you know my wife? - Dear, Mr Smith and Mr Larsen.

I'm so glad to meet you. My husband told me so much about you.

I'm thrilled to have you here. Do sit down.

Put that there.

Now he looks at me like that. Go ahead.

I'm sure you'd like an aperitif. Pastis?

Oh no, dear. Whisky. They're Americans. They drink bourbon there.

- About that Modigliani... - He found it at the flea market.

That's also where he started.

- About that Modigliani... - He found it at the flea market.

That was his first work experience.

- About that Modigliani... - He found it at the flea market.

That's enough. About that Modigliani...

Here, darling. Read this. Nothing but bad news.

- Back to our case. - The Modigliani. How will you deliver?

- It's very easy. - It takes one day in hospital.

We'll take a little thing...

that tickles a bit and then hop, hop. Like a napkin and finished.

Will he agree?

Uhm... yes. I'll have to make a deal with him.

- What will it cost? - 500 million.

- How much? - 500 million.

- For the tattoo? - In a frame.

- Minus the 180 million. - Oh no, you bought those things.

- No, no, no. - Oh yes.

- Where's Mr Bernheim? - Alright then. Agreed.

Tonight at 8 you give me Mr Legrain's signature.

- In writing. - You'll get it.

Or else you give us the 180 million back.

Careful, Mr Mézeray, careful. You'd have to return it.

- I did understand, you know? - What did you understand? What?

What did you understand?

You're crazy to sell that tattoo before you bought it yourself.

- Everyone's for sale. - What if he doesn't want it?

He'll have to or else my name isn't Mézeray.

- And if... - I've been listening to you for 20 years...

- Listen, honey. - I'm not your honey.

Does my face look like honey?

As you wish.

And I also don't want you to call me by my first name anymore.

- Why? - Our family has a certain class...

so no more first names. - No more first names?

No.

- No more first names. - Never...

Never.

As you wish.

- Sleep well, sir. - Good. Sleep well, madam.

Yes, you're a war hero. You're not for sale. I understand.

You loathe money, I understand. But also 50 million?

- What's that? - Meat with red beans.

Beans?

You eat salads and I eat meat and have Beaujolais.

- Yes, but look. - Look.