Oh, stop it, Andre.
I hate flattery.

I don't care.
It is wonderful, wonderful work.

You've seen all these,
I take it?

Of course.
I tell her all the time.

Julian Levy took a couple
of her paintings to New York

and sold both of them,
and she sold another four
to that actor...

t-t-the gangster.
Edward G. Robinson.
Yeah, for $200 apiece.
He was robbed.
We haven't been able
to fool anyone else.

My little paintings can't mean
anything to anyone but me.

Get down!
They put a bag by the door!
Get back!

- Let's get inside.
- Get back!

- Inside, quickly.
- There is no time.

- Cover him! Hurry!
- Inside. Everybody inside.

- Take him inside!
- Frida!

Frida, what are you doing?!
Hallowed be Thy name...
I give you five seconds
to get out of here.

- Two!
It's all right.
It's all right.
Sorry about that.
It was my mother's sisters.
What do you mean?
They were leaving icons
and sprinkling holy water.

They think this house
is cursed,

and that you
are the antichrist.

I want you to think
about it seriously.

You could be part of the
Mexican exhibition in Paris.

What I really want is a show
in my own country.

Which they will give you
once you become famous
somewhere else.

Your paintings should be seen.
So, who is coming up with me?
It's harder than you think.
Ah, everything
is harder than we think.

I'll go.
Are you sure?
If an old man can do it,
why not a cripple?