Klimt

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Team WAF We Are Family

Klimt, 2006

Uncle Jonathan...

Come and join me.

Let's have some fun for a change.

Bible?

Bible?

Thank you, very much.

Bible?

No sir, it's no monster.

It's a hybrid.

The head came from the Russian front - 1915.

The arms are Viennese - 1917.

The hips are French.

This leg is Romanian and that one Serbian - 1916.

- Times are hard. - True.

Yet surely the one thing there's no shortage of at the moment is corpses?

For sure, sir.

- Herr Schiele? - Yes?

If you'd care to follow me.

One, Two, One Two...

Herr Schiele. This way.

There's no one here?

They've all gone.

Really?

- Even Midi? - Even Fraulein Floge.

Gustav?

Gustav, it's me.

Flowers.

How terrible...

Because of the weather they've decided to cancel the Primavesis mascarade ball.

Okay.

That's enough for today.

But come on down. There's some food and drink in the kitchen, thank you.

Thanks. Thank you, Herr Klimt.

I would work longer but I have an appointment - thanks for today.

What about you?

What about me?

- Keisermelange. - Franziskaner.

Bring me the usual.

- A tafelspitz. - As usual.

- Gugelhupf. - As usual.

- Maria Theresa Cafe - As usual.

- Melange... Kaisermelange. - As usual.

- What a rumpus. - What's going on?

A reconciliation dinner

between Herr Jodl's supporters and Herr Wickhoff's supporters.

And of course the members of the Academy. Those you know well Herr Klimt.

Yes, but to me they all sound alike.

As though they were farting through trumpets.

- How do you tell them apart? - Easy...

In spite of his name Herr Jodl

believes that there exists a single and unique form of aesthetic beauty.

Does he now?

In his view form is of no significance as long as there is beauty.

Herr Vickhoff on the other hand argues that every era has its own concept of beauty.

A concept that changes as the era changes.

For him nothing is ugly. It just depends on the era.

And the Academicians?

They believe that when Herr Raphael died, beauty died along with him.

But is was all good clean fun, that is until Herr Loos turned up.

Here is Klimt a modern ornamentalist.

A real pathological case.

He never stops switching styles.

- What do you propose instead? - Read my articles.

Forget it.

Look at this mirror. I mean look at it, not into it.

What purpose does it serve?

To adjust one's hat, one's cravatte, one's lipstick...

Which let me remind you are all ornaments.

Now look at the gold frame. What purpose does it serve?

I'll tell you. It serves to give work?

- pointless, unproductive work - to craftsmen.

That's exactly what I'm talking about.

The frame is useless, therefore inexpressive.

The mirror is useful therefore functional.

Therefore expressive and therefore beautiful.

What you were just saying is merely ornamental.

Therefore it's useless and therefore it's ugly.

However this cake has allowed me to shut your mouth.

Therefore it's useful it's expressive, and above all it's beautiful.

You, Herr Klimt, I forgive.

And you know why I forgive you?

Because at least your paintings are sexual, as all art should be.

The crucifixion for example.

Now what could be more sexual than the crucifixion?

Excuse me.

I'm sorry.

Sorry I'm so late. I've just come from the ministry.

Hartel?

Yes.

So what does the minister have to say for himself.

He must still be in a state of shock I suppose.

He's not the worst you know?

So will there be a scandal or not?

Maybe not.

Really?

The minister said that for the moment he supports Klimt.

After Paris, who knows?

If all goes well there'll be no scandal.

So it all depends on the judgement of Paris...

God, that's pathetic.

Speaking of Paris, have you packed?

My mother will take care of that for me.

Naturally.

Everyone's here. Even Jodl.

That fellow deserves to have his face smashed in.

But he's with Wickhoff. I thought they couldn't stand each other.

Do you know what Jodl said?

We are not against the nude art. We are not against free art.

But we are against hideous art.

And he is sitting right over here under out noses.

I feel like smashing his face in.

No, no, no. You'll do nothing of the sort.

And our good friend, Klimt...

- What is he thinking of doing? - Nothing.

- Klimt is drinking his coffee. - Oh, leave them alone.

Where are you going?

To vomit.

I'm going to vomit.

Herr Klimt.

Herr Klimt.

If all goes well in Paris.

Herr Klimt.

- Flowers. - What?

Flowers.

A broken mirror.

Well,I must say the twentieth century's off to a good start.

A whole century of bad luck.

What's going on?

You're famous. Didn't you know?

It can happen to anyone after all.

No, I'm joking.

No, I was talking about the mirror

I was standing in front of and then someone asked me how I was enjoying Paris.

And I said something or the other.

And the mirror shattered.

What really happened?

I spoke to Klimt and asked him whether he missed Vienna.

He said not Vienna, but the flowers.

When he said flowers the mirror shattered.

Le tout Paris.

There's Rodin. So he came after all.

And Mucha and Herr Stuck

I need a glass of water.

You again.

Oh. you know me. I am flattered.

Usually no-one knows civil servants. At least not the minor ones.

Allow me to introduce myself.

Secretary to the consular service of the Austrian embassy.

Third secretary.

In perpetuity.

At my age one learns to forget all about promotion.

Honoured never the less to make your acquaintance.

I'm a great admirer of yours.

Burgtheater. What an astounding achievement.

It's a fucking wedding cake made of shit!

Yes, I had heard that your language was a little... shall we say, on the salty side

It's the only language I know.

Not true, I'm sure.

But I wouldn't dream of contradicting an artist.

Or perhaps you're just one of those people who actually likes wedding cakes.

Well you say that with contempt,

But after-all it's wedding cakes that follow monuments, not the other way round.

I need a glass of water.

Where did you get to?

Everyone's looking for you. The minister's there.

They're all there but you.

I have the distinct impression Herr Klimt is unaware of what awaits him.

Austria my dear Herr Klimt.

Austria has been honoured. You've won the gold medal.

I knew it.

Oh, shit!

Really Herr Klimt, you exaggerate.

Herr Klimt.

You don't know me... or rather you don't regognise me

I am... I was the daughter of your housekeeper

I was in love with you as a child.

It was I who opened the door to you the time you forgot the keys to your apartment.

It was I who ran after you when you went for a walk to the prater.

It is I... it was I that was the mother of your son Andreas.

Ladies and Gentlemen.!

Attention please.

I would like to announce a great surprise from the management of the Exposition.

Gustav Klimt meets Lea De Castro

Mesdames, Messieurs, would you please now welcome the great magician

Monsieur Melies and his two very talented actors.

You're not offended I hope?

Offended? No. On the contrary.