Our Mr. Foerster Died (Umřel nám pan Foerster)

Based on the story by Jindřiška Smetanová

OUR DEAR MISTER FOERSTER DIED

HE DIED

All the things I've missed in my life, and probably won't ever be able to do...

But I'm glad I'm still alive.

I'm hot and I feel like I've never experienced it before.

This afternoon reminds me of something.

But what?

It was nice yesterday...

It's a nice day today, isn't it?

These'll dry fast for me.

It's beautiful.

What does it remind me of?

The kind of day you'd see in a painting.

Do you know who Renoir was?

He was a French painter who painted such warm, sunny afternoons.

He was crippled.

He suffered from rheumatism, and painted the warmth he so badly needed.

- Tights never last. - They pushed him around in a wheelchair.

They tied the paintbrush to his fingers so he could paint.

He painted pretty girls and sunny trees.

Holes everywhere.

He lived in a wheelchair for 20 years.

His drive for life was put into his paintings.

He was dying for 20 years, but his pictures were full of life.

- These tights will be the death of me. - I read a book about him.

He had a housekeeper. She was young and beautiful.

He often painted her in the nude. Her name was Gabriela.

If I knew how to paint, I'd paint you.

Oh please...

I'd paint you as you hang the laundry. And singing at the same time.

I learnt everything from pictures. I've never been there in my life.

France... I'd like to have a peek there some day.

I've been telling kids about it for 40 years.

It never occurred to me till just now to go have a peek.