Oh, I think you better stay home from school, sweetie.
I'm not at school?
No, honey. And you should stay home.
Yes, Miss Hoover.
I put some books beside the bed.
Will you test me on them later?
Of course. And I won't even give you any warning.
I'd like that.
Mm!
_
Aw. Ooh!
"Born near Florence, Italy, in the year 1452,
"Leonardo da Vinci displayed a genius
unmatched in human history."
- _ - Extra, extra!
- _ - Renaissance begins today!
If you're gonna torture someone, do it quick!
"As a child, Lisanardo's gifts were evident"
Hey, sonny boy,
I want you to be just as talented as her.
I made an Uffizi
on the floor of the Farnese.
Yeah, yeah. That's, uh, that's great.
Lisanardo, did you finish
that drawing of the suspect yet?
Wow.
Gee. That talented kid
is gonna make you a lot of money.
We're rich!
Like Marge's tomato sauce.
- Not until dinner. - Oh!
While we're celebrating Saint Christopher,
he help people who get lost telling stories
find their way back to the point.
He was canonized by Gregory the Inconvenient,
who shot him out of the cannon.
This was before they discovered gunpowder,
so they pulled the cannon to a cliff and pointed down.
- But then he stayed in. - _
They had to give him an eviction notice.
"Florence, at the time,
was at the start of the Renaissance."
- _ - Hey, you can never be too careful.
Aw, don't worry.
Those Dark Ages ain't never coming back.
We got frescoes, we got spinach
and this delicious new thing called a pizza.
I'm the original Ray.
Well, I am-a Famous Ray.
Basta!
What about me, Little-a Caesar?
Pizza! Pizza!
Ouchie! Ouchie!
Et tu, Noidus?
"Young Lisanardo was soon an apprentice
"to the most famous artist in Florence,
- _ - Andrea del Verrocchio."
- _ - Whoever paints the sweetest cherub
will have the honor of having my name signed on their work.
That's what great artists do.
Excellent, Barticelli.
Very nice, Dolphatello.
Ralphael, what is this?
My foot hands are brushes.
Jesus.
Your little angels are so much better than my Jesus.
- Is that wrong? - No.
Your genius has shown me what a failure I am.
I will never paint again.
_
At least there are no geniuses in here.
What? We can't all be great.
Right, Mediocroto?
Si. On every paper, I get a C.
We don't want you in our class. You're too much better than us.
Yeah, your gifts come from heaven above.
Uh, that's not true.
Here's some more talent.
Not a good time.
* My gifts came down from God above *
* But talent doesn't bring you love *
* Although my brilliant genius shone *
* My last supper was all alone *
* In 1470. *
If you can't beat 'em, kill 'em.
Use your genius to invent weapons of war,
just like I'm gonna invent the Charleston.
Ow, my appendages!
I'll show them all.
I'll show them all in a secret diary
that no one will decipher for 400 years.
Oh, what to invent? What to invent?
Portable siege engines.
Flamethrowing mirrors.
A waterpowered stabbing wheel.
Hmm. With these, we could kill
the most evil people in the world:
slightly different Christians.
- Ow! - This is your true masterpiece.
Why did you kill us?
Scusi.
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Ooh.
I'm going to kill you all.
It's my only pathway to pope.
Cardinals suck.
Go, Cubs!
"Lisanardo had learned
"that using her intellect for war was blasphemy
"but using it for art would make it endure forever.
- She escaped to France and retired in happiness." - _
I'll be out in a sec. Keep the engine running.
Lisanardo, I have many questions.
Why are you hitting yourself?
A nerd says what? And how is it possible
that I am rubber and you are glue, et cetera, et cetera?
I will answer all questions
just as soon as I finish my masterpiece, my king.
* Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa *
* Men have named you *
* You're so like the lady with the mystic smile. *
Well, if this doesn't get Ron Howard to direct,
- I don't know what will. - _
Real humble, Lis, making yourself into Leonardo da Vinci.
Shouldn't you be in school?
Eh, it was art, which I hate.
Well, if you hate the formal study of art,
you're just like another artist I'd like to discuss
who also had trouble with the Academy.
You must have a fever,
because that segue was sweaty.
_
Unimaginative and boring. A.
Milhouse, this has nothing I haven't seen before.
A-plus.
Bart, you've really made me think.
How dare you? F-minus.
_
Oh, a single entendre,
the most complicated joke there is.
Class, settle, please,
because today we have a special treat:
a visit from Paris' leading Bacchus model.
Sorry I'm late. As a supermodel,
I have to be eating and drinking all day.
You prefer robe open or robe off?
Uh, just cover your privates with this walnut shell.
Whoa, so roomy.
Mm-hmm...
Gah! That looks nothing like him.
And it shouldn't. We're making the art that we feel
because we can't compete with a camera,
especially modern compact cameras.
Please hold still for 17 hours.
Since you refuse to paint the still life,
you'll become the still life.
Foie gras!
_
This epoque just gets beller and beller.
Who is that kid?
I am Toulouse-Moetrec,
the chronicler of the demimonde.
I keep liquor in my cane.
Not very efficient. Really not.
Coq au vin, au vin!
This is the greatest thing I've ever seen,
and I have seen, like, five things!
You, my friend. You are a genius!
Maybe we should stop slavishly following the teacher
and use our own minds
to slavishly follow Bart.
To the easels.
All right, time to do my first self-portrait.
Time to look in a mirror for the first time in my life.
I can only assume that I am beautiful.
All right, here we go.
Looking now.
Oh, don't worry, sir.
You won't see anything here that'll encourage debate,
provoke thought or be out of place in a dentist's office.
Ah, well, I'm sure this will have
a definite je ne sais quoi?!
Ugh! Oh!
The emperor is coming here to look at this artwork today.
His Majesty will feed us to the guillotine!
That hasn't been used in years.
No one even remembers how to work it.
Pull up, let go. How hard can that be?
Mon cher, le superintendent,
which of our works will you be entering into the royal Salon?
None. You are all refusés.
What about our student loans?
Oh, they'll be refunded. We are not barbarians.
I mean, uh, come on.
Oh, if only we could get our art in front of the emperor.
Monarchs love challenges to the established order.
No, no. But there is one thing
the emperor loves more than anything.
- France? - No, he hates France.
But he loves cheese.
Look who he appointed mayor of Toulon.
_
- Hmm. - Do we have a winner?
Keep your pants on, Moulin Huge.
There are 44 more galleries of mediocre art to judge.
What is that cheese doing?
Oh, you know French cheese. Very runny.
I warned them not to make cheese into wheels.
Cubes were fine.
I get motion sickness,
and I'm lactose intolerant.
Hurry. He's biting his way in!
What the...
Aw, once again,
I have just cheese that is not cheese.
Your Majesty, if you'll take a seat,
we'll show you something really special,
a transformation of art from a rote copying of nature
into the experiences, ideas,
and mind of the artist.
You had me at "take a seat."
I don't know art, but I know what I like.
And I like eating and not looking at art.
I hereby award you the Royal Medallion.
Congratulations on your discerning eye,
Your Majesty. I love this pupil.
Is this not the student that you expelled from the royal salon?
Well, I... Uh, that is, I, uh...
Just pretend I'm not here.
Uh, sir, is your tongue sticking out because you're dead
or because you're mad at me?
Uh, little of both.
Yeah.
_
Oh, sure, Maggie. That's easy.
Renaissance artists love to put babies in their paintings,
especially baby angels.
Let's just not think about why there were so many babies
in heaven, shall we?
Hey!
_
Damn it!
So, telling stories about art, huh?
Do they have one about a fat guy whose wife is too good for him?
Stupid fat guy.
Bet he doesn't even know what's going on.
Well, Dad, have you ever heard of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo?
Lisa, I haven't even heard
of Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner.
Well, Diego and Frida were married in 1929.
_
I now pronounce you esposo and esposa.
You may now beso quite mucho.
Mwah!
Spanish for "Best wishes!"
Spanish for "Congratulations!"
Spanish for "¡Muy bueno!"
Amigos, familia,
and El Barto.
The mysterious El Barto.
Do you know nobleman Don Bartholomew?
He lives in that house you come out of every night.
¡Ay, caramba!
Gosh, quite the swordsman.
Slashed my shirt,
did not even nick me.
Move along, folks!
It's gonna take me a while to bleed out.
That's clever... a "B."
I know I speak for my wife, Frida Kahlo,
when I say I couldn't imagine life without you.
But I also speak for my wife, Frida Kahlo,
when I say we leave for New York tomorrow!
You never asked me!
Don't worry. As a woman,
you will be treated with much more respect in America.
_
Diego, I know you are a socialist,
whilst I am a lion of capitalism.
Yes, we hate the capitalists.
Right now, a young socialist is being born
who will take them down.
Mr. Bernie Sanders.
I hope he's quick about it.
Getting a cootie shot should not cost your lunch money.
And if you don't listen to me,
listen to the Bernie Babies.
What? Everybody's got goons.
I disavow that and welcome it.
Señor Rockefeller,
what is it you are looking for from Diego?
Frida, please! I'm so sorry.
My wife does not understand these discussions.
I understand that he is paying you $21,000
for a mural for his new Rockefeller Center
with the theme "man at the crossroads."
$21,000.
Do you know what that is in today's money?
$21,000.
This entire area will be your canvas.
I will need very tiny brushes,
a magnifying glass
and a huge bottle of tequila.
No worm.
A snake.
You drive a hard bargain,
but this is just a model.
The real Rockefeller Center will be 66 stories high.
And every Christmas, we will kill and decorate a giant tree
as a warning to the other trees.
Oh, Frida. Let us celebrate our triumph
with some snuggle-issimo.
- No. - What's wrong, my dear?
Is your unibrow hurting?
You are selling out, my love.
_
I am not selling out!
I am doing this mural for the little guy!
People like him!
Why are you washing windows at night?
Who said I was washing windows?
As for you, squander your gift,
spit on your talent.
I am glad we are in agreement.
But what will I do while you work on your mural?
Paint a happy self-portrait,
smiling ear to ear,
not a care in the world.
That's not who I am, Diego!
I love you, too.
Going to the bar!
Paint. Paint your misery.
Also, leave. Leave your husband.
Which one of you is the angel?
- We both are. - We both are.
That's how mad you're feeling.
Oh.
Back to Heaven!
_
Buenas noches, darling.
What a crazy night I had.
Now we got to get our stories straight about Zeppo.
It was an accident, okay?
Ah...
Starting a new painting?
Yes. I am painting my feelings.
Oh! Oh!
Wow. So strong, so brave,
so true to herself.
Mm...
My darling, I am not half the artist you are.
Diego, what are you saying?
I am saying I've underestimated you all this time.
You are a genius!
From now on, I will show my awe of you
by sleeping with other women.
Starting an hour ago.
And I will sleep with other women starting two hours ago.
I'm so glad I don't hear what you say.
But I will do something I have not done in our entire marriage:
what you want.
Well, actions speak louder than words.
No. Unless the action is the demolition of a big building,
words are usually louder.
Everything is a fight.
I completely disagree.
But just wait till you see what I do.
You'll be pleased with what I do not do,
and you will love what I do do.
Good night!
Welcome to Rockefeller Center,
a temple of capitalism.
To find a taller building,
you'd have to walk a full seven blocks.
Long blocks.
With people bumping you.
Enough already. While the art is still deco, okay?
For you, my darling.
Man at the Crossroads.
Rich people. Yes, excellent.
The cosmos. Yes, makes sense.
A worker.
Well, I suppose it couldn't be helped.
Fascist army.
Always welcome in any lobby.
Hmm. Who's that fellow?
With the beard and the Bolshevik smile.
That is the founder of Soviet Russia, Lenin.
But-but-but he's a communist.
Oh, he just attended a couple of meetings.
I can't have a communist in my colossus of capitalism.
Paint over it.
No!
Then you will lose your commission,
and I won't let you be the model for Atlas.
Hmm...
I don't care.
There is one person I want to be proud of me,
no matter what.
Oh, my darling.
Release the hounds.
They're on the 66th floor, sir.
They should be here in about 25 minutes.
But-but-but why is it just sitting there?
I, uh... I think they may be eating
the elevator operator, sir.
Let us leave, my darling,
with our scruples intact.
Push the owner's button.
- But... - I said push it.
Aah!
Ironically, in time,
Frida became more famous than Diego,
an icon for brilliant female artists everywhere.
This is really, really good.
If I play my cards right,
I will direct a Rick and Morty.
All right, now it's time for the story of Vincent van Moe.
* Bar-ry, bar-ry night *
* Squeeze your bar rag clean and dry *
* For the last time, say there's no Wi-Fi *
* With eyes that know the darkness of my soul *
* Serving them the dregs *
* Something's growing *
* On my eggs *
* Add tap water to the kegs *
* And search the bushes for my missing ear *
* Now the show is done *
* Except the part *
* Where the chick goes "Shh!" *
* But no one ever obeys her *
* 'Cause, really, what's she shushing for? *
This one ain't so great.
* I will not listen *
* She's not the boss of me *
* And she will never be. *
End the credits!
Shh!
- synced and corrected by sot26 - www.addic7ed.com