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MURDER IN MONTMARTRE
SUMMONS
Dinner is served.
Thank you, Marguerite. Here's Monsieur now.
What is it now'?
A bailiff's summons, a writ.
Is it serious?
More than yesterday, less than tomorrow.
We have to pay?
Have you got 800,000?
MY jewels?
Thank you, you're sweet.
Give the piano a rest!
He's practising.
All right, but let's eat.
You're so edgy.
With reason.
Did they fetch the still life?
No.
You did nothing?
I did my nails.
Jean-Pierre, sit still.
Tell Dad what you saw from the Eiffel Tower.
Loads of buildings. I saw them already.
I had the bill from his school.
What a day.
Your elbows!
What do they teach him?
122,000 francs this term. Their teaching costs me.
- Darling... - 20,000 for equitation.
10,000 for fencing.
What do you want him to be?
A musketeer?
Why buy this bracelet?
Right. Everything for him
and nothing for you?
You're off?
Paintings to see in the suburbs. You never know.
This late?
No rest for the wicked.
Good night, darling.
Say goodbye to the boy.
Of course.
Eat neatly, I have enough mess downstairs.
Jean-Pierre!
That kid...
Even with my back turned, I know his grimaces.
The damn holidays...
At Christmas, at Easter,
at Whitsun...
It never ends.
Always on our back.
If they're yours, ok.
But that one came with the mother!
Come in, it's not locked.
Excuse the mess, Mr Kelber, but I'm about to leave France.
I understand.
I rush around all day.
Sorry it's so late.
Don't mention it.
Will you have a drink?
- A scotch? - Please.
My fridge is in storage, so no ice.
It doesn't matter.
Are you going far away?
10 hours by plane, 5 days by canoe.
And my wife hates mosquitoes.
Cheers.
You're in a hurry. Those are the paintings.
The light isn't very good.
It's all right.
Well?
I can't give you much.
I'm no expert. My wife is selling them.
She's back Thursday. I'd just like a rough idea.
You could have waited.
I wanted to save time.
How did you find me?
In the phone book.
Had them appraised?
I thought an art-dealer...
An art-dealer may not be an expert.
A connoisseur, yes.
I can only give an approximate price for all these paintings.
One of them may be of value.
This one.
2,500 francs.
For the frame.
This one looks like a Courbet
the way a mule looks like a horse.
No doubt about it, it was a load of junk.
Only one portrait interested me.
I knew that face...
And that style.
A Gauguin, my wife says.
Yes, it was a Gauguin.
No doubt about it.
A self-portrait.
My biggest find ever.
I needed to keep my head.
I had to watch my step.
It's misleading at first sight.
But on examining it...
The flea market is teeming with old masters.
I won't get your hopes up, sir.
But, as I hate wasted journeys, I'll make an offer.
Lend me your paintings, I'll show them to an expert
and give you my answer.
Will it cost much?
No, the cost will be on me.
That's settled then. Thank you.
Do you need paper?
No, I have bags in the car.
I'll leave you this one.
Will it be done by Thursday?
Perhaps even tomorrow.
We leave that evening.
Don't worry, I never make idle promises.
You have our number.
- Vaucresson 14? - Yes.
Till Thursday then.
Or maybe tomorrow.
Need a hand?
Please, for those two.
I'll see you to your car.
Thank you.
Gauguin, '91.
If it was genuine, it was worth a fortune.
A fortune within my reach.
The canvas seemed period.
The frame too.
I needed to ask Lacroix how he ended up with a Gauguin.
10 million, 15 even.
Enough to clear up all my worries.
And that fool knew nothing about painting.
I'd be stupid to teach him.
Art wasn't his trade, it was mine.
An expert could take a real Gauguin for a copy.
As a dealer, I pay a low price.
If I learn later that I have a real Gauguin,
good for me.
Let's not get carried away.
After all, this painting could be a fake.
Hello.
Yes, speaking.
Have you seen the time, man?
You're mad.
No one calls for a valuation at 1 AM.
I don't care about Gauguin at 1 AM.
No, I'll come when I can. Goodbye.
Not coming to bed?
No, I'm not sleepy.
Be quiet or you'll wake the boy.
I take back what I said.
This Gauguin justifies your impatience.
- Is it genuine? - I'm sure.
At least at first sight.
The spectrographic analysis should confirm it.
But, fear not, this style is unmistakable.
A pure Gauguin from '91.
Painted between his two trips to Tahiti.
I think so too.
I can find you a dozen or so collectors.
If my deal falls through, I'll call you.
All these are terrible.
Still...
Not everyone can be Gauguin.
My dear fellow, call me any time.
Goodbye and thank you.
See you soon.
Hello. Vaucresson 14.
Hello?
Yes, speaking.
100,000 for the lot isn't much.
I could go up to 120,000 for your sake,
but no more.
I'll ask my wife when she returns.
- May I fetch the paintings? - Of course.
May he? I wasn't keen.
I risked losing a Gauguin.
I decided to clean it up.
You're busy.
Just odd jobs. Forgive my appearance.
Is your mind made up?
I need the paintings. My wife's back.
My offer's too low'?
Like all women, she's sentimental.
They're family heirlooms.
She'd have agreed, had the price been better.
There's news since I called you.
A client fancies the false Courbet. I can up my offer.
Really?
300,000.
This is very pretty.
But my wife wants to sell the whole lot.
I'll take them all for 500,000. Happy?
800,000.
I'll ask her.
I'll take them for now.
Leave them. We'll make a deal.
- But... - A million.
I can't leave them. Another buyer is coming over.
In that case...
Can you get them? My taxi's waiting.
The blow was foreseeable.
The other buyer could make me look like a scoundrel.
What could I do, damn it?
If you don't mind my asking,
is he a dealer?
No, a collector.
Do I owe you anything for your trouble?
No, nothing at all.
Thank you.
Excuse me.
Thank you. Goodbye.
Vaucresson, Rond-Point de l'Etoile.
Does he keep playing to annoy me?
Mum!
What is it now?
He wants to hit me.
Marc, don't you dare touch my child!
I never did.
He just wants to love you.
He never told me that.
You scare him.
I'm the bogeyman now. What a day!
Bogeyman, fogey and ninny.
Fogey... You say that for my sake?
I let a great deal slip away like a ninny.
It's not our fault.
Of course it isn't.
I'm on edge. Forgive me.
Give Dad a kiss.
A big kiss to cheer him up.
- Where are you going? - Lunch at Masnier's.
Off you go then.
Be good.
Things work out, dear.
But badly sometimes.
- Remember my allowance. - Again?
A month lasts a week now!
I'll see to it.
With a wife like her, I couldn't afford to be poor.
But even so...
If Lacroix had accepted, I didn't have a quarter of the million.
I had 212,000 francs in the bank.
I had to salvage this deal,
at any cost.
What're you doing? - The housework.
Hello?
No, Mr Kelber, not at all.
Yes, the buyer came.
He offered me 1.8 million francs.
Madness?
He offered two payments, but I'm leaving.
My client came back too.
You leave tonight?
Hello? Don't hang up!
Don't hang UP!
Two million.
Agreed.
Two million in cash by this evening.
Two million in cash by evening, when you only have 212,000...
Easy, you play on your credit.
A banker you've known 10 years listens politely
and shakes your hand like an old friend.
He was sorry he couldn't lend me a single franc.
But I used my visit to withdraw the 212,000 from my account.
I needed to turn to my contacts, and fast.
Being well-established, I had plenty.
I got the message. No use insisting, even with old army pals.
Open-hearted, but with empty hearts.
Two hours lost, with my illusions.
What could I do?
My car.
Not a bad motor. I could get 500,000.
500, plus 200, makes 700.
Out of two million.
My wife's jewels...
Those baubles had cost me a lot.
A million, or jewellers were crooks.
Clara would agree,
as she'd soon get the double.
Your 600,000 francs.
600, 000. The thieves...
And they call that a sound investment.
That it?
Yes, that's it.
Well, Mr Kelber,
you seem pensive.
Is the art market booming?
Tell me, Bertrand,
you like quick deals.
I like things to move fast, yes.
I may have a deal for you.
It's kind of you to think of me, Mr Kelber.
A good deal?
Excellent. Your investment doubled in two weeks.
A miracle.
I'm in. I'm a believer.
How much?
800,000.
You don't have to follow me.
Who? Me?
I'll follow you blindly.
Bravo. You'll see the miracle in two weeks.
Trust me.
You bet.
As a neighbour.
Here, I'll get you the rest.
- I'll do a receipt. - No need.
I insist. Let's keep it above board.
Hurry, you'll make us miss our plane.
Mr Kelber.
- Ma'am. - Hello.
Sorry I'm late.
We have a taxi.
You have the money?
It's all here.
Of course.
Tell me, do you take a commission?
Ten percent. Usually at the seller's expense.
Generally, it's shared
between seller and buyer.
Generally... Yes, it happens.
- Here. - Thank you.
I'll wait in the cab.
I won't be long.
Take this too.
There.
Delighted to have met you.
Sorry, I must run.
Goodbye, sir.
My receipt... Then again, I didn't need it.
I had the Gauguin and I would soon
get it authenticated.
Kelber, I'll be right with you.
Fine, I'm in no hurry.
I already cleaned the painting.
A Corot at an antique dealer's in Senlis.
Quite an eye.
I hope so.
You know what Degas said.
1,500 Corots in the world.
And 3,000 in America.
I fear, sir,
you have found an American Corot.
Are you sure?
It's his job.
I'm very sorry.
So am I.
What do I owe you, sir?
See my secretary about that.
He'll reframe your painting.
Take this.
All these amateurs think they're smart.
Do you know howl spot a fake?
By the pigeon who brings it in.
The fools all look alike and that can't trick an expert.
I can believe it.
Well, this is quite a joke.
A joke?
Kelber, you're not a fool.
This copy can't have tricked you.
A copy?
Fairly skilful,
but nothing like the Gauguin you showed me.
What? You've been had?
A little.
Poor chap. By a lot?
Six million.
Indeed,
a lot for a fake Gauguin, but a bargain for a real one.
Excuse me.
What an idiot.
I'd been conned.
The bastard.
I was at a loss.
If I found him, what could I do? Press charges?
No one claimed it was a real Gauguin.
I was in a real fix.
FOR RENT
The bird had flown.
I'd have needed wings to catch him.
He had a two-month lease.
Previous address: Hôtel du Louvre.
He'd stayed two weeks,
coming from another hotel
where he'd spent three weeks.
Then I lost track of him,
somewhere near Montparnasse.
A real miracle, he said.
Obviously, as a neighbour, I believed him.
Then I saw the miracle.
I put 800,000 there on the till
and it vanished.
I never saw it again.
Three months ago.
Press charges.
He pays back 50,000 a month.
A bad settlement is worth a good trial.
There you go.
300 francs.
I wonder where he gets the 50,000.
His shop's always empty.
He sells his furniture on the sly.
It makes the neighbourhood look good.
There, look at him.
No, there's no miracle!
How much?
A good pound.
A good pound...
You're here. No more piano.
No, I can't bear it.
Poor dear, I wonder what you can bear.
You can't bear the piano, the boy,
you can't stand anyone.
We should leave.
Don't talk rubbish, woman.
We could stay with my aunt in Rennes.
Yes, you're right.
- We'd get out of your hair. - Right...
Hello, Delcommune.
What's new?
So-so.
Still looking for the big deal.
I keep buying lottery tickets.
Talking of big deals,
interested in Gauguins? I can't afford them.
Me neither, but thanks for asking.
Hello? Delcommune?
I feared you might have hung up.
Where's this Gauguin from?
It was offered by someone in the suburbs who has to leave soon.
The paintings are his wife's.
They have to leave shortly.
Thank you.
What is it now?
News. Wait here.
Jean-Pierre!
Come and practise your scales.
Still dealing in art, I see.
I was scared you'd shoot.
I will.
Too late, you've spoken.
You don't chat to someone you kill.
Bastard.
And you're a businessman.
You won't risk two million on one shot.
Where's my money?
You know, dear sir, life isn't cheap.
In your hurry, you mixed up the paintings.
Give me this one and it'll clear things up.
I'll miss it. It's an heirloom.
You chose the wrong guy. You're not smart enough to fool me.
My receipt?
Your receipt?
A real Gauguin requires one.
The police will want it.
- The police? - Of course.
The papers proving I own the Gauguin are in the bank with your money.
Between you and me, Mr Kelber, an honest man like you
didn't expect a Gauguin for two million.
I'm the thief now?
Don't get carried away.
I have neighbours.
To get the two million,
I borrowed from neighbours.
I sold my car, my wife's jewels...
I'm not surprised. This Gauguin does that.
You see it and must have it.
Bastard! You won't get away with it!
Meet Claude Watroff,
a mighty painter, as you've seen.
One of his Gauguin copies is worth two million.
Who is he?
Mr Kelber.
A good customer.
Is he a problem?
Yes and no.
It depends on him.
What'll you do?
Make your life a living hell.
I'll warn every expert, dealer and connoisseur
a crook is selling a fake Gauguin after showing a real one!
You're not smart,
you're goons.
We got you all the same.
The expert saw right away it was a fake.
I examined your damn copy. I know it by heart.
The technique isn't bad.
Thank you.
But the ageing is pathetic.
I'd have noticed if you hadn't rushed me.
It was part of the plan.
I see. You're glibber here than in Vaucresson.
A fool is more reassuring than a wit.
You flatter yourself.
You didn't know a painting ages.
A painting from 1891
is 65 years old.
If you copy it on a modern canvas,
it's useless. A painting ages.
Its appearance changes.
The colours too.
The paint isn't just dirty.
It hardens, fades and cracks in places.
Know what the expert did?
He took a pin and slowly stuck it in the paint.
Like into butter.
Genuine antique paint
would have cracked.
He certainly knows his stuff.
Heard of ultra-violet light?
Know what your accomplice did before doing his copy?
He did a perfect reproduction on the new canvas.
In charcoal.
He deserves a big hand.
But the fake Vermeers...
The guy had 350 years of experience.
The god of forgers.
So it can be done.
With experience.
You have it.
The real Gauguin you stole who knows where
is on Interpol's lists.
I'm afraid it's mine.
It really is an heirloom.
My grandfather bought it for 800 francs in 1891
at a Paris auction.
I have papers to prove it.
Bravo.
Can this artist work a bit?
Paint without drawing?
Him? He's an angel.
I think that's it.
That's it.
That's definitely it.
Viviane, come and see.
Tell me it's good.
It's good.
Yes.
You know nothing, like the others.
If you like it, I like it.
They treat me like Van Gogh.
How?
They scorn me.
When I die, they'll pounce on my work like starving crows.
All alike.
And we eat bricks.
I left something on the stove.
Like your pasta well cooked?
- I don't care. - Good.
Your wife?
Which one?
The Vaucresson blonde.
A rental, like the house.
You're meticulous.
I hope your painter pal is too.
Claude? He's an artist.
In shape, he's on fire, but then the flame dies.
You have to butter him up.
All alike.
Goodbye.
Claude... ls Viviane here?
Yes, but I'm not decent.
You're looking gloomy.
He has moods.
Shut up!
If you don't like it, look away.
Who says I don't?
You'd be the first.
A single dealer can launch an artist.
You have a gallery?
Just waiting for you.
You're kidding me.
Fate is a great provider.
Thanks to me, in this studio,
a new Gauguin meets his Vollard.
- Do you have 20 paintings? - Soon.
Calm down. What about publicity?
That doesn't come cheap.
So sell a Gauguin.
Make one first.
Yours won't sell.
Compare your brushstroke to Gauguin's.
The curve of the ear, say.
You redid it.
Gauguin used one stroke.
- If you look closely. - They will.
Micro photography will expose it.
So what do I do?
Learn. Repeat each brushstroke for hours on end.
You must do the same thing naturally,
reproducing everything.
Once you succeed,
I take over.
Will it take long?
It depends on him.
What's a Gauguin worth?
- It varies. - According to the client.
We split it three ways.
That's obvious.
I prefer to say it anyway.
This is Mr Kelber.
- Madam.
Over to you, my dear Claude.
Here's 25,000 for the initial expenses.
50,000.
Come on, Lacroix.
Let's go. He has work to do.
Don't let him drink.
See you soon.
It's wonderful!
What did he say?
You mustn't drink.
Let's celebrate.
Is this all that's left?
Get two white, one red.
You shouldn't.
I'll paint them, not drink them.
- I can't go like this. - They're used to it.
In my bathrobe...
Aren't you HAPPY?
Look at this water.
Look at the colours.
Will I paint them again?
Don't be silly.
Viviane...
You know what an artist is.
Someone with a wonderful but fragile gift.
You keep it by being sincere.
Cheating makes you ordinary.
You'll never be ordinary.
If only I sold my own work.
When Kelber exposes you, you'll be famous.
By then, I'll be spent.
So drop Lacroix.
I should.
If you can take soggy pasta and a slattern like me.
- I adore you. - Darling...
The life I make you lead...
What do we care?
Viviane!
- It's 5. - Yes, Dad.
Thank you.
Lacroix and Kelber are waiting.
Ask for money.
- Again? - Yes, again.
Qualms by the water's edge are all well and good,
but you always return to reality.
Three authentications.
From Lauer, Meillac and Weil. Well done.
You didn't ask Martinaud?
Are you serious? He saw the fake. We avoid him.
Yes, you're right.
The others complimented me on the Gauguin.
They'll fight over three perfect copies.
Three at once?
The buyers won't have time to find out
there's another copy of their painting about.
I hope he isn't blind drunk.
Why? Does he drink a lot?
Far too much.
Hello.
Hi there.
Is this how you work?
I need to rest a little. I have forger's cramp.
Shout it from the rooftops.
You're getting it.
You'll be there soon.
Not if you keep taking the model.
Have it back. I don't need it now.
I even cleaned it.
- Here. - Is that all?
I need to pay experts, along with Mr Kelber's butcher.
I'll soon be bled dry.
See this eye? The stroke looks simple.
But it's not easy, I know.
All right then, get to work.
After you clear off.
What are you looking for?
A canvas 40 by 65 cm.
You know what you want.
I have the frames.
A little Corot while you're here?
Too expensive.
Let's go.
Excuse me.
I'll take this one.
That's a good idea.
This one too.
A good match.
It's a bit smaller.
I saw you arrive by cab.
It's slow, but by the book.
But you're not.
If you keep blabbing, I'll be in big trouble.
A bad arrangement is better than a good trial.
Yes...
See you next month then.
Quiet!
Are you there?
For heaven's sake, stop him!
Jean-Pierre, stop playing.
The poor kid can't even breathe.
Take him to the cinema so I don't hear him.
Jean-Pierre, get your cap and bring my bag.
Yes, Mum.
What are you doing?
I realized something.
Paintings sell better without paint.
I understand. I'll mind my own business.
Listen, Clara...
I can't teach you my job in five minutes.
All right, I'm going.
Listen, honey, I have problems, but I'm trying to pull us through.
I'll explain later.
Why later? I can understand now.
I know.
I know, but I can't say yet.
Well, there is one thing I can say.
I love you, darling. I love you.
Are we going out?
Here, Mum.
Thank Dad for the cinema.
Thank you, Dad.
Have fun.
You're nearly done.
Period canvases.
Don't touch until I say.
You hear, Viviane?
I'll put them away.
Here.
You can take your canvases away.
I'm sick of Gauguin and his mug.
Look at him. Look at them all!
I feel their eyes on me.
That proves you're getting there.
Know what their eyes say?
That I'm a bastard.
I'm seeing Lacroix.
Rest. You're tired, it's nothing.
No drinking.
For heaven's sake!
I disgust myself.
Are you happy? Does this set-up amuse you?
I'm delighted.
O good, as I have bad news.
Out of cash? Don't worry, it was mine.
I guess.
We can take on the experts now.
If that blockhead paints.
He Will.
About time.
- Hello? - Lacroix?
- Speaking. - It's Viviane. Get here fast.
Claude is drunk. He's wrecking the old canvases.
I'm on my way.
What is it?
Watroff is drunk. He's destroying your old canvases.
Let's go.
- Well? - He went wild while I was out.
He's calmer now.
You can all go to hell and Gauguin too!
I'll paint and drink when I want.
If you're not happy, get lost!
It's wonderful.
Is it really good?
Sensational.
If the idiot hadn't drunk, we'd have saved time.
Drinking helped him do it.
He got it all. The style, the hues. We can age it in a week.
So we contact the collectors?
I have one waiting in Boston to hear from me.
After the war, I had hardly anything left.
Nothing but this heirloom,
the Gauguin.
I didn't know then how I'd use it.
But then I met
Watroff.
An old friend, fallen on hard times.
He was painting daubs, a drunk.
But, on meeting him, I had the idea
of exploiting the Gauguin
and giving it kids.
As we aged this week-old painting by 70 years,
Lacroix, confiding in me, told his life story.
He'd made the Gauguin a fake, and his friend a forger.
I had your wire. Here I am.
So quickly!
I wanted to get here first.
Where is the Gauguin?
Stand here.
Where did you find it?
In an attic, like any other treasure.
That manner! Those colours!
It'll be the gem of my collection.
I'm sad to see it leave France.
At my home, he'll reunite with Van Gogh.
The authentication.
No need for a document, my eyes were enough.
A cheque on a Paris bank?
If you want, Mr Harrison.
You asked for ten million. I won't haggle.
That'd be petty.
It's too beautiful.
Taking it now?
Yes, I fly home later today.
Thank you.
Shall I wrap it for you?
No, I have a car here.
Henri...
- Thank you. - My pleasure.
Thank you for choosing me.
Goodbye.
Here we go.
I have the ten million.
Quiet!
Let's listen to him speak!
Give it a rest now!
I'm a bastard.
It's not true I've inherited.
- It was a sale. - Sit down.
- Who's the buyer? - Where does he live?
I'm not a failure like you.
I head a new school: imitative art.
My paintings sell!
I'm not worth frequenting!
If Gauguin were here, he'd spit in my face!
Why would Gauguin be here?
Know what a Gauguin's worth? Six million.
No, ten million at least.
Ten?
Ten. Who gets that? The dealers.
Sharks feeding off artists!
Bravo! Well said!
Meanwhile, Gauguin starves.
I know Gauguin. He's a pal.
A friend. A brother.
We're inseparable.
- He wrote this... - He's far gone!
"I've had nothing from Vollard
and there won't be mail for Tahiti for two months.
I'll get bread on credit from the China man.
Not a penny left."
Tahiti must be beautiful.
And Martinique
It's oh so chic
Not a penny, you hear!
Others drank his money!
- Claude! - Go to bed.
I'll ask his forgiveness first.
Sorry, Gauguin!
I won't do it again!
Clear the couch for me.
What did you do to Gauguin? He's dead.
You didn't kill him.
No, but I sold him, like Judas.
Like Judas.
What's going on?
He's not in great shape.
Sorry, I think you'd do best to go now.
Need a hand?
It's ok, I'm used to it.
Goodbye.
Pity, it was fun.
I didn't find it funny anymore.
- Call me if you need me. - Ok.
You idiot!
You'll ruin everything.
Can you hear me?
You won't wake him.
It's urgent. Kelber sent me.
Want ammonia?
Good idea.
The ammonia?
It should be here somewhere.
Is this it?
Are you crazy? That's acid for the sink.
Here it is.
My head hurts.
Listen, you drunk.
The public confession was moving.
Have you read Dostoyevsky?
Get lost.
Kelber isn't pleased.
What's going on?
The eyes are wrong.
Scared he'll see you?
Yes, that's it.
He's feeling remorse.
His two million bought him a conscience.
How'll you use the jinxed money?
Feast with local rabble every night?
Have masses said for Gauguin's soul.
And for yours as well.
Just face it.
It's the soul of a petty thief.
Get out!
Wake up, Claude!
We're all in this together now.
Sleep well, then get back to work properly.
And let Gauguin look right at you.
Shut up!
And, above all,
feel no shame before him.
You're smarter.
Claude!
Just leave.
I warned you, Viviane.
Just look at him.
Today, he doesn't know his friends.
Tomorrow, he'll see rats.
Next stop, the asylum.
Keep him from drinking.
Claude Watroff managed two more fine copies.
We calmed his scruples
and rationed alcohol to get that result.
True, we took advantage of him,
but he deserved it.
No one should drink that much.
There.
That'll be 150.
- I'll pay tomorrow. - Of course.
Mr Kelber, a leg of lamb, tender as my thigh?
No, thank you.
Here you go...
The final payment.
There was no rush if it's a problem.
It's ok.
You just need to say.
It's true, your deal wasn't as fast as you said,
but we did all right out of it anyway.
A true miracle.
If another comes along, keep me in mind.
Bertrand, you're too good. I could eat you up!
Marc, the boy came third.
Well done!
Get out, I'll park it.
Yes, I'd like that.
Stay with Dad.
A leg of lamb, as tender as my heart?
Good idea.
He came third?
Yes, out of 40.
Like father, like son.
It must run in the family.
Hello, Mrs Kelber.
Leaving?
Like every Saturday.
I didn't know.
My father has a riverside restaurant.
He needs help on Sundays.
And Claude?
They argue, so it's best he stays here.
He won't miss much in this weather.
- When are you back? - Monday morning.
If you want Claude, he's at Kelber's.
The gallery?
Probably.
Whatever for?
As if I knew.
As you're here, you can...
Lacroix! It's ok, it isn't heavy!
- Quiet, my wife's upstairs. - So what?
Six million, a Gauguin. Think I'm stupid?
Six million and then some.
It's worth at least ten.
We can't be demanding.
I may be wrong. It's easy to check.
Let's see your bank statements.
I hate being mistrusted.
Don't act dignified with me.
I may be a crook, but you're one too.
Both of you are.
- Both what? - Both crooks.
What is it?
He says we're robbing him.
You're mad coming here!
Shut up, my old friend.
You're swindling me with him.
In that case...
In that case, I'll get my own back.
I've done no wrong.
I worked on Gauguins, new, unsaleable ones.
I didn't age them or sign them.
I'm innocent.
He won't even let us explain!
It's no time for a confession.
Maybe I miscalculated.
Fancy that.
Given the risks and Lacroix's expenses,
maybe I felt a three-way split wasn't fair.
After all, he worked too.
Admit it. What was I cheated out of?
We could make an effort
and raise his share to 2.5 million.
Three million.
You bastards!
I'm thirsty. I've seen enough of you!
And I don't want three million,
but four!
Shut up!
- Be reasonable. - A fine, to punish you.
Don't mess with me.
- Claude! - Shut up, you swindler!
We need the copy soon.
The last. No more certificates.
Got a client?
A Brazilian who writes every week.
Then what?
We sell the real one. It'll be easier.
And we won't need Claude.
Thank God!
I hope he keeps quiet.
He'd better.
When he drinks, he gets chatty.
He gave his pals a real speech.
So let's shut him up.
I think we should.
No... Not that.
No other way.
Not that.
I'm thinking of you.
Your wife, your kid.
You deserve a quiet life.
Find another way.
A week later, we set up a sound alibi that would seem genuine.
We chose one of the week's movies that Lacroix and I had seen.
We went back on Saturday evening
while Viviane was at her parents'.
Two in the stalls, please.
Your nails match the tickets.
On Purpose?
No, sir.
Thank you.
Has it begun?
Yes, ten minutes ago.
It's already 9?
It's 9:05 actually.
What?
Open up, it's us!
I'm asleep.
Open up, it's us!
Coming.
- We need credentials now? - You have none.
Isn't Viviane here?
She's at her father's.
She'll miss the party.
What party?
To celebrate a job done.
Bravo.
He just churns them out now.
And my money?
It's here.
Right here.
We destroy ourselves for this.
No dark thoughts.
Here's to the millionaire!
Now it's over, I can drink.
You got a head start.
I was bored without you.
Why's Kelber looking so grim?
Ignore him.
My millions are hard to stomach?
You petty Vollard...
When's my exhibition?
When you're ready.
I never will be.
Live off the proceeds.
Sure.
Here's to millionaires.
Haven't you ever wondered why I drink?
I showed my work to Matisse one day.
He was very frank.
He told me,
"It's daubing, my boy, try another trade."
I refused to listen.
I drank so I wouldn't hear him.
The poor fellow.
This is no time for pity.
Let's put him on the couch.
Take your money, it'll give you courage!
Your gloves.
Maybe he won't talk.
He definitely won't.
He's right-handed.
The right temple.
It's the one you had for me?
What are you up to?
You've left me no room to sit.
Sit down.
Let's leave.
I'll find another way.
I won't have the strength for it.
Know what to expect if he talks?
He won't talk.
Ready to risk it?
Wrap the paintings.
What are you doing?
Once a drinker...
That's acid.
Make him drink.
No.
It's in God's hands.
Remove your gloves.
Claude...
Well, Claude?
Feeling better?
All right then.
Here's to us.
Stop me drinking.
You know,
one more won't hurt you.
He'll throw up!
What did you give me?
A nose-bleed.
Don't leave any stains.
It's 10 past 11. Let's hurry.
I think we have everything.
Are you sure?
After what we just did,
forget formality.
- Good morning. - Miss.
- Seen Mr Watroff? - No.
He's still sleeping.
No...
Madeleine!
Hello, Jean.
A glass of red.
And another to make two.
Let's drink at the bar.
- What'll it be? - A dry white.
- Yes, white. - Me too.
White wine all round.
People will now see Claude had talent.
Absolutely.
Grief is confusing you.
Just watch the next auction.
He destroyed everything.
Leave him where he is.
He killed himself as he was lucid about his work.
He left one beautiful thing: Viviane.
Poor Claude.
To think he was with us last Saturday.
I see him carrying the Gauguins.
Kelber found him odd. I saw nothing.
Now, I blame myself.
I could have done something.
What happened?
Did the police question you?
And, meanwhile, I was relaxing at the Pathé Palace.
With Kelber, actually.
It's so stupid.
Spare your breath.
I know you killed him.
He felt remorse because of me.
That's not what I mean.
What do you mean?
Kelber couldn't face coming today.
The poor man's in bed.
Sick?
Nothing serious.
He'll sell the painting.
Good.
To a Brazilian.
When?
In the next two days.
He'll be at the Claridge.
Bravo.
You'll have every centime of Claude's share.
I guarantee it.
You're very honest.
Darling, take this.
Lacroix insists on seeing you.
Show him in.
Come in.
How are you?
I'm all right.
Send Marguerite for the papers.
You know it's her day off.
But I'll go. Don't tire yourself.
Well then? Your nose?
It starts again when I think.
You think too much. Rest.
How did it go?
Very well. Everyone thinks it was suicide.
You should too.
And Viviane?
Viviane?
She just wants her share.
I won't worry, then?
Tell me...
Has your Brazilian arrived?
No, not yet.
I wish he'd hurry.
Because...
Viviane is a woman.
And women...
are fragile.
I'm interested, but eight million is my final offer.
It's worth ten.
Maybe, but that's a lot.
Call it nine.
Deal.
I have authentication.
If you don't mind,
I'll seek a second opinion.
A second opinion?
If you want.
Are you unwell?
It'll soon pass.
My expert in Paris is Mr Martinaud. Do you know him?
Martinaud?
I know him.
Good. Let's call him.
I think he's away at the moment.
He's here. I already contacted him.
May I?
Mr Martinaud?
It's Mr Paradi Luna.
When can you see us?
At 11 AM?
Very good, sir.
That's in an hour!
It's just five minutes away.
See you later.
There is no subscriber at the number dialed.
Please check your correspondent's number.
There is no subscriber...
Hello, Viviane?
Seen Lacroix?
I need him. His phone's cut.
I don't know.
Maybe it's out of order.
Go out to Chaville.
Maybe he's fled.
Don't joke.
I'll go there now. Excuse me.
Need a hand?
It's you. I was about to call you.
Using which phone? Your line's cut.
There's no need to stick around.
I'd have given you my address.
I know it.
Plane and canoe.
Kelber!
No time for chit-chat. We have a problem.
The police?
You're warm. I need the real Gauguin.
What's going on?
The client wants a second opinion.
The copy won't hold up.
Are you sure?
No chance. His expert is Martinaud.
He'll be wary after the first fake.
That's a big problem because...
Because what?
Because the real one is in left luggage at the station
and I can't find the ticket.
Think I'm stupid?
No, I swear.
You think I'm stupid!
You can't find the ticket?
Hold on a second.
I remember now.
So tell me where it is.
In my waistcoat pocket.
Mr Kelber is late.
He'll be here soon, he's a very punctual man.
What did I say?
The masterpiece.
You found it again.
Someone played a nasty trick on me.
This is the painting I admired the first time.
One of the most beautiful ever brought to me.
If museums weren't so stingy, I know where it would be.
I'll draw up the authentication.
Excuse me, Mr Martinaud...
I apologize, but I'd like a very detailed valuation.
That's why I'm here, sir.
He's right. You can't be too careful.
I behave like a savage.
Not at all.
As the French say,
the Brazilians went straight from parrots to phonographs.
Hey, Kelber.
What is it?
You know it's a fake?
Are you joking?
Not at all. See for yourself.
This painting is a fake
made at the request of Mr Kelber and Mr Lacroix
July 4th, 1956
I swear I don't understand.
I don't understand.
Neither do I.
An excellent copy. It nearly fooled me.
I insisted as I had been warned.
It's blatant fraud. I hope you'll press charges.
I don't understand.
Ask the woman who called me.
She must know you well.
I'm ready to testify.
A trial?
Too long, and I'm in a hurry.
As for you, Mr Kelber, try adopting a low profile.
I won't let a man like you contaminate our world.
My painting.
I'll keep it in case I need it.
Show him out.
Well, Mr Kelber,
have you been valuated?
You're the woman?
What were you thinking?
That I'd just stand by?
I don't know what you mean.
It's simple enough.
Claude was wary.
He knew how to age a painting thanks to you.
And the fake fooled you.
You told the client?
At his hotel. He soon understood, for a foreigner.
Why did you do it?
Claude told me you'd kill him.
I refused to believe him.
We were at the cinema.
Yes, at the Pathé Palace.
Yes.
There's a documentary on carrier pigeons.
Precisely.
Unfortunately for you,
the documentary isn't screened on Saturdays.
I don't advise running to the Chaville house.
Lacroix has problems there.
Go home and comfort your wife.
She's very worried since my call.
Kelber.
Don't worry, I've put the real Gauguin in a safe place.
Your paper, Mr Kelber.
FAKE PAINTING EXPOSED Robert Lacroix arrested
The police seek his art dealer accomplice
Marc, tell me it isn't true.
Tell me it isn't!
Marc!
Don't talk about it.
So it is true. Why?
You can't be poor with a guy like me.
That's rubbish, as you loved us.
Not the boy. Perhaps that led to all this.
If I'd loved him, I wouldn't have done it.
Let's run.
No, I'm cornered.
What'll we do?
Get away now.
I'm staying!
Think of the kid.
But you!
I don't need anyone. Think of your musketeer.
Goodbye, Clara, my darling!
Listen to me! Marc!
Marc, listen to me!
Marc...
Open up! Police!
Marc!
Subtitles by Ian Burley
Subtitling by HIVENTY
A 4K restoration by Eclair Classics with the support of the CNC