Renoir

The House of Renoir is here?

- What do you want? - There is work for me.

A painter.

- Who told you that? - The lady of Mr. Renoir.

Oh yes. We were expecting you.

- Who the hell are you? - Nobody.

A homeless family.

You tell lies. She died, Ms. Renoir.

Yes?

It's true what he says?

The boss is dead?

You can come, the boss awaits.

I scared you, girl?

No... not.

Show me your hands.

What's your name? - Andree.

Andrée Heuschling.

And thou affirm

this is my poor wife who sent you?

She told me that I could ask for you.

Hmm...

The girl from nowhere.

By a dead.

I think we'll both work.

Vermilion. - From vermilion, obviously.

That's it. - Sienna.

I'll put the.

Slowly, the baker.

Just a little turd.

- What should I do? - Huh?

What you want.

If you ask for me

it will be available all day.

Hmm... I will manage.

You work somewhere?

Here and there.

I am an artist.

Artist?

Well, well.

What kind of artist?

All types.

Actress.

Dancer, singer.

Or I'm in there? You have not even painted me.

What is it for me to go ask?

Tomorrow, small.

I promise you nothing, I did not do it.

Come earlier.

Taken advantage of the good light.

Give him five francs for his trouble.

Can you give five francs?

Okay?

I'm 10 francs.

Boss? Do you mind if I move?

If it bothered me, I would paint apples.

I had a painter friend

not far from here in Aix.

He was hiding to escape models

who prowled around his workshop.

Dyed it?

Apples... precisely.

And wooden mannequins.

That I could never.

I think it takes me alive.

What I like is the skin.

The velvety skin of a young girl.

- Do not be shy! What What you weasels?

- I catch animals </ i>. You not going to school?

My father says we not learn anything.

I thought you were not family.

My brothers are the war, my mother died.

The old.

How is your pet name?

- Claude. They call me Coco.

- Me is Andrée. They call me Dédée.

So that's it?

Yes, Boss, I'm coming!

Are you happy with your new model?

Her skin does not grow light, you did well to send it to me.

I said it was a small Renoir.

Oh... Small Renoir.

You've done me three.

With this damn war, I am missing two.

Jean...

My Jeannot.

What have they done with him?

- Do not worry. It's okay.

They will make me alive?

Whole?

Come quickly, it's the boss!

Not so fast!

If you want to help me work properly.

Show me your brush.

This is not good.

I told you to take the flat brush.

You listen to me or you do not care?

You read the book of fables that I gave you?

I have not had time.

I'll dispense with going to school, but...

Certainly not study.

Included?

It will remain the?

Coco, let us, will read your fables.

- And the paintings? - Well... later.

You are very modest for an actress.

Actress, it's not fucking.

Sit down.

I have an actor son.

Peter. - Really?

Year.

In the cinema?

Thank you God, no!

The theater!

It is not much better.

- Why do you say that? - This is not a real job.

A business that has its hands.

To make something...

who remain.

It's still in people's heads.

The wind.

Compared...

a chair.

A house...

A pair of shoes.

A plate.

You're always like this?

How?

Scrogneugneu.

Never while I work.

And the third?

John?

- What is he doing? - Everything and nothing.

He eventually engage in the cavalry.

On the eve of the war.

The unfortunate...

He was wounded.

Gangrene, too.

This is us...

the old, the infirm...

we should send there.

In the mud and holes.

Lifted up. Walk a little.

- This is my father's gloves. He can not put.

- Who is this baby? - My brother John.

- It is beautiful. - In truth, not so much.

- And this is you? - No, this is my big brother Peter.

Hmm... He is the actor?

Ah, it's you! - No, it's not me!

Are you tonight?

I tell you it was not me.

She was beautiful, your mother.

I do not know.

I knew that old and fat.

Show me your tits.

- What are you doing? - Watch.

Why?

- You watch the boss. - It's not the same.

This is art. - You bet.

You too, you'll spend. You'll end up in the bed of old.

Like my mother, like any other.

Jean!

- Hey! Come all! Jean arrived!

Oh Johnny!

My God, it melted! You will not eat?

- In the army, yes. At the hospital, no.

- We'll fatten you! Come and see your father.

- It's okay? You want me to help?

Boss! It is!

- Lieutenant? - Yes.

You owe me respect, rookies.

So you're healed?

If I was cured, I would be in combat.

If you were healed, you'd be dead.

Coco! Finally!

Jean!

Jean!

Hey!

Your wound. Is it serious?

It's good repair.

I limp for a little while.

It'll give me the exclusive officer!

I saw Pierre in Paris.

He was demobilized.

There do still have surgery.

- Again? - To his arm.

He penguin, you lame.

Me, on a small chair.

With a pillow under your ass... We veiled well.

They will demobilize you too.

For the moment, I'm recovering.

Time heal the wound.

You're not planning to return to the front?

If the doctors decide that I can go, I go.

Jean...

Do not force destiny.

Hmm?

We must let go.

Like a cork in the current stream.

I know, your theory of the cap.

This is not a theory, it's reality.