Becoming Karl Lagerfeld (2024) s01e04 Episode Script

1
This series is loosely inspired
by the life of Karl Lagerfeld.
Some of the characters, their intimate
and professional relationships,
their actions and statements,
places, incidents and events,
as well as artistic creations
have been invented or altered
by the authors for dramatic purposes.
In the case
of such invention or alteration,
any similarity to the actual character
or history of any person
is entirely for dramatic purposes
and is not intended to reflect
an actual character or their history.
Baby, you understand me now ♪
If sometimes you see that I'm mad ♪
So, this is
the famous Club Sept.
I've heard so much about it.
Karl, Bergé is there.
If he says anything, ignore it.
If you take the high road,
he'll get tired of talking.
Are you the one being called a whore?
Let's just show our guest a good time.
It's an important night for our parfum.
It'll be all right.
Are you ready for our grand entrance?
- What a beauty.
You are.
You're a bouncer now?
Take your whore and go.
What did you say?
Settle whatever problem you have
with me, Pierre.
I'm not talking to you.
And you don't make the laws around here.
Listen here, you toad.
Keep your dog on a leash.
-Get off of him!
Who do you want in your club?
Lagerfeld or Saint Laurent?
Saint Laurent, obviously.
There you go.
I'll break your knees next time.
You're dead, German!
I'll shout it out to all of Paris.
We know things are dire
if Jacques is here at 7:00 in the morning.
What do you mean?
I could have done without that.
Well, listen, I
I'm sorry, you should never have
been involved in this.
I'm gonna go see Pierre.
Why would you do that?
Well, to explain myself
and make him understand that
What are you
going to tell him?
"So sorry, but I'm afraid
my dick popped out on its own.
"I can't tell madness from sanity."
Are you going to see Saint Laurent, too?
And my reputation.
How are we going to save
my professional reputation,
which helps me live and helps you live,
and in a week
could be destroyed by Pierre?
Twenty years.
Twenty years of working
every day of my life
to try to get just a modicum
of respect from others.
And no one likes me here.
Nobody wants to see me succeed.
And you, you destroy everything.
So, fine.
You go head on home.
And let me handle things.
Karl, let me Let me help you.
No, you don't say anything or do anything.
You disappear.
I don't want to see you again.
But my honor is being insulted, too.
Honor?
Honor is a farce.
Plenty of people live
just fine without it.
"Jacques, in the doghouse."
Jacques, in the doghouse.
Uh, and when Pierre threatens
to send his people to come deal with you,
he's entirely capable of it.
I told you it's a start.
Good for you.
What's wrong with you, huh?
Did you see me? Huh?
What? Am I invisible?
Piece of shit!
Bernadette Maurice
of The New York Times, ill.
She apologizes
and wants to postpone the date.
Mont-Servant from Le Monde is too busy,
not sure he can come to the show.
And it's the same for Macy's,
last minute conflict.
That's a lot for one morning.
The person who helped me understand
what was going on was John Fairchild.
"Sort your shit out with Pierre Bergé."
That's what he said.
I couldn't imagine it would be this fast.
Oh, yes! I forgot.
The girl, from the parfum, the American.
The one who called me in a fit
to tell me there was no way
she was taking part in such a scandal.
And she was going straight
back to New York.
What did you do to him?
To Pierre Bergé?
Nothing.
But he obviously spent his morning
calling every editorial in the world
to say they had to make a decision
between Saint Laurent and Lagerfeld.
They made their choice. Saint Laurent.
The reasons why aren't worth getting into.
But in spite of my best efforts,
that has impacted Chloé.
And I'm very ashamed of that.
All I can tell you is that I'm committed
to fixing the problem,
and the reporters
will be there at the parade.
This, I promise.
Tell me how.
How do you intend to solve this?
-Everyone hates Pierre Bergé.
-Hmm.
We've all been picked on
by him at one time or another,
but we keep quiet.
In our business, he holds the most power,
and he tends to go for the head.
I'm sure your stories
are already all over Paris.
I don't care.
Get a meeting with Bergé
and make your peace.
Whatever you have to do.
Just a piece of friendly advice.
And a direct order.
Do we have a number
for a good florist in New York?
Uh, maybe. I can find one.
Can we get a bouquet delivered
to the perfume chick?
Forsythia, azaleas, daffodils.
And go all out.
Something big and expensive.
Okay.
Saint Laurent's office, please.
Uh, yes, Anne-Marie Muñoz, if you would.
Tell her it's Roland.
Yes.
Come in, it's open.
Madam in a nightgown?
Do you want me to unclog your sink?
You know, I don't use that kind of wood.
Great.
Ta-da.
I'll take it all.
Speedball, cocaine
Is this a suicide or a soirée?
That depends.
What are you up to? You got time?
We'll do a line, chat,
maybe listen to music.
Mmm-mmm. It's a nice thought,
but I've got work.
-Too much work?
-Yeah.
It's not the song
from Modern Times, is it?
All right then, get working.
-Here you go.
-Merci.
You're a little famous now.
I've heard lots of customers
talking about you.
Well, you can tell them to piss off.
Well, be careful with the speedballs.
They're strong.
See you, Jacques.
Anne-Marie, it's so good to see you.
I think this place is good.
We can be sure no one will see us here.
As far from Saint Laurent as possible.
I know what you risk with our friendship.
Well, Pierre might kick me out tomorrow.
I don't have immunity.
I know.
I was hoping you could tell me,
what's going on with Yves?
-Where'd he go?
-Uh
Vanished.
What do you mean, "vanished"?
We looked everywhere for him for two days,
Until finally we got a call from
the Center for the Homeless in Nanterre.
He had no idea where he was.
No papers or ID.
No jacket, no shoes.
No way to know what went on.
Said he looked like he was in a fight.
It wasn't a pretty sight.
But it's not the first time
he's lost control, right?
We'll get him back on his feet.
Mmm. When Pierre took him to the hospital,
Yves threw a marble bust at him.
Well, crazy or not, he never forgets
how he should treat Pierre.
Stop it. He doesn't deserve that.
He might have a loud bark,
but he carries everything Yves can't
without complaint.
Back in '61,
he had to be committed as well.
Six months later,
he was released to set up his house.
It's worse than in '61.
There's not just nerves but alcohol, too,
and drugs.
I include Jacques under those drugs.
He no longer designs.
The whole of Saint Laurent stalled,
250 employees
waiting around like hungry birds.
We have a show in a month.
I'm the one who will be designing
a collection for Yves.
So who knows?
Nobody knows.
Just Pierre and me.
We've lied to everyone.
We keep wondering if this is the end
in a lot of our talks.
That way.
You did this on purpose.
What did I do?
-What am I supposed to have done?
- That's what Pierre says.
He said you encouraged Jacques
to hurt Yves.
He said Jacques was being used by you.
And do you believe I'm doing this?
I'm not sure.
Why would I do that?
Because I'm jealous?
Because I want to be Yves and I'm not?
He and Jacques are two consenting adults.
The truth is that Pierre is furious
because he doesn't want to admit
that Yves is crazy.
And for that,
Jacques and I are not responsible.
-Okay.
- Great.
My Karlito.
Are we getting out of here?
I did nothing to you.
He came looking for me.
He loves you.
But you don't know how to.
Where are you going? Karl!
Don't leave me alone here!
- Karl?
-Not now, Mother.
Karl, now.
It is time to get on with your life, hmm?
What is it, Mutti?
I went to the hairdresser.
Who is gossiping in the next chair?
The Countess of Ribes
and the Baroness of Rothschild.
Good friends of Yves and Pierre's,
if I've understood correctly?
I'm not interested in hearing all
the bad things they have to say about me.
I know they talk.
It was not about you, though.
-About you?
- Mmm-hmm.
They were talking
about Karl Lagerfeld's Nazi Mutter.
-To the French, we're all Nazis.
-Hmm.
I have never said anything.
Yes, well, Pierre Bergé
is very well-informed.
He already knows your father
wasn't Swedish or some baron, so
And that he used
compulsory workers in his factories.
Now he's decided to share
those things with everyone.
-You're losing control, mein Sohn.
-Nein,
I'm dealing with it. Hmm.
It's very pretty on you, Amina.
Nice volume. Very good work.
Is she still with that journalist
from Paris Match?
Amina? Why?
Are you interested in Paris Match?
Hang on.
Have you seen Pierre Bergé?
Amina. You live in Champs de Mars,
don't you?
-Yeah.
-Mmm.
I'll drop you off later. It's on my way.
Okay.
Jacques?
It's me. Open up.
Can we talk? Huh?
Mr. Jacques de Bascher
You're my vice
my life
my religion
my sin
and my death
Blessed are you
Your Yves
Karl, this isn't fun anymore.
And since I still have a bit
of pride and energy left in my legs,
I, the gigolo, the genius's assassin,
am returning to where I'll still be
allowed to stand up straight.
Farewell, Paris.
Good riddance.
Jacques.
Oh, my God, you're stupid!
-What are you doing here?
- My cute little mother.
Oh, my darling.
I'm back.
You're so handsome.
Where's Papa?
He's resting.
Trying to.
Hello?
Okay, so what's the story?
Yves Saint-Laurent has passed?
Anna. Have the rumors
already reached Milan?
Yes. The article in Paris Match
got picked up by the entire press.
Who started this rumor?
We're all asking ourselves that question.
And Pierre? What did he say?
Pierre Bergé was Pierre Bergé.
He refuses to pick up the phone
when journalists try to ring up.
None of us has managed
to get through to talk to him.
And now I'm wondering if he's hiding
a cadaver in the closet.
If Saint Laurent has perished,
we'll have to look for him.
I don't want to believe it's true.
Well, I'm coming to Paris.
I'm going to stand in line at Bergé's
with all the others from Vogue.
He'll have to talk to us then.
All right.
Would you keep me in the know?
Of course, my dear.
-Merci.
Come in, doctor.
Bonjour, Monsieur de Bascher.
Oh! Ah!
My little Jacques!
Oh, you're back.
-Oh, I'm so happy!
- Me too.
So where's my hot chocolate?
-Where is it?
I'll go fetch some.
Where's Mama?
Don't ask me, out in the vineyards?
Okay.
Are you here for us
or are you bolting off to Paris?
I'm here for you guys.
Lagerfeld turned you down.
Now you're broke.
-No.
-Are you sick?
No.
If you're sick, stay away from Papa.
He's got an immune disorder.
I don't have anything.
Hmm.
No, just here for company
and a bit of love.
You ignored us for three years
after Papa got cancer.
You barely even returned
our calls anymore.
I didn't forget you, Anne.
You better go up and see Dad.
Come on! Don't be like that!
I'm here now, we're having lunch,
we're talking a little,
what is that if not trying!
Who's Beaumarchais?
Because when my friends
run into you at parties in Paris,
apparently, you go by the name of
"Jacques de Bascher de Beaumarchais."
So I'm wondering
Who is Beaumarchais?
Is our name not enough for you?
Is it too bumpkin for you?
Not good? Too old?
-Not gilded enough for the socialite?
You don't know anything
about that world, okay?
I know what it is. It's everywhere.
And I despise it.
And that's not how we were raised.
Shh! You're yelling!
It's fine. I'm fine.
I thought you were writing
a love story with Lagerfeld.
Well, yes, I wanted to.
I don't know, because to me,
it sounds more like a fairy tale.
You could be so many things, Jacques,
and this is what you're doing?
You put off your studies and denied us,
all for what?
You like to tell yourself
that Papa rejected you
because he knew you were gay?
Maybe you were rejected
because you always want things to be easy.
Mutti, turn on the TV.
If I were dead,
I'd be the first to know.
Since this morning, I've been allowed
to leave and work in the studio.
I am ill. Very ill.
I have been for a while,
but nobody ever took the time to notice.
Mr. Saint Laurent is suffering
from a nervous breakdown.
And we're confirming here, on our honor,
of course, that it is nothing else.
Ugh. What are they thinking?
This is ruinous.
Maybe now they'll stop nit-picking others
for a little while.
we wouldn't try
to hide away from that truth.
All these rumors that have persisted
are nothing but vain attempts
at slandering our name,
the House of Saint Laurent.
Mr. Saint Laurent
is still the genius we know.
-Karl?
- He is, above all, a human man
Is this your doing?
Just listen to this.
This is Yves destroying himself.
We assure you
he is surrounded by the best doctors.
But don't worry about me.
I'll take care of myself.
I'll get better soon.
I'm still capable of great things.
As for those behind these rumors,
they should know,
we won't let things rest here.
Hello?
Could you connect me
to Saint Laurent's office, please?
- Who are you calling for?
-Anne-Marie Muñoz.
- Who's calling?
-Roland.
- Hello?
-It's me.
Yes?
Forgive me for what I'm about to do,
but I'm afraid I'm left with no choice.
What?
I have found all the letters
Yves ever wrote to Jacques.
How does that concern us?
Let Pierre know,
if he slanders me or causes any trouble,
I will not wait.
They'll be sent to every journalist.
Am I clear?
Yes.
We're really glad
that you're here with us.
Merci, Chantal.
Bonsoir, Papa.
The vines doing well?
Budding yet?
Not bad.
There's no frost in the forecast.
Good.
So then, we'll soon be ready
for debudding.
Uh, sure.
Augier called me.
He might lend us some loaders.
No more than one or two.
While we try and go look for others.
I think our youngest, Xavier,
might be able to help out
if he passes his midterms on time.
He might be nearly finished now.
Yeah, I think he's almost done.
He's good.
Our youngest is so responsible,
we can count on him.
Wow.
What are you doing?
You know what your issue is?
Being useless.
Mmm.
If you got things done,
you wouldn't feel lonely.
-I mean, I never do.
-You've got to quit it.
I'm not interested in marching with these
dykes and faggots you're associating with.
Aw, but why not?
Because No.
Homosexuality isn't just private,
or how you dress,
or a specific way of partying.
Hmm.
It's about living your life
and letting others live theirs.
It's profoundly political.
It's a cause,
and it's important to have a cause.
You're in need of cause, Jacques.
A revolutionary and a gigolo.
That's good.
I'm happy Dad found other kids
to save us from perdition 'cause
-this is all so wrong.
That's him?
-Are you joining us?
-Yes.
-Shall we go?
-Yes.
I'll go with.
- Papa, you don't wanna miss mass.
-Come on.
I could have given you a bit of warning.
No, that's not as funny.
I'm sorry. Seeing you
I just didn't expect it.
When I was younger
and first came to Paris,
we'd refer to this kind of look
as the fashion of "Tala."
-Clothes for the man going to mass.
No makeup or anything.
I got this worked out.
Everything's going to change, hmm?
We'll fly out to the States.
We'll make that damn parfum.
Reinvent ourselves.
Have fun, keep things light.
We'll come back stronger.
And finally have our revenge.
I wanted to apologize.
I was harsh.
Too harsh.
I was worried. I I was upset.
I said things I never meant to say.
That's putting it mildly.
Don't be mad at me.
I'm not at you.
Okay.
Let's go home then.
The grace of Jesus, Our Lord,
the Love of God, the Father,
and the communion of the Holy Spirit
be with you always.
And with your spirit.
Let us prepare for the celebration
of the Eucharist
by acknowledging that we are all sinners.
Jacques.
Papa says to switch.
-Huh?
-Stand next to him.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah ♪
Hallelujah, Hallelujah ♪
Hallelujah, Hallelujah ♪
Oh, Lord Jesus, praise unto you ♪
I am the good shepherd says the Lord ♪
I know my sheep and my sheep know me ♪
Hallelujah, Hallelujah ♪
Hallelujah, Hallelujah ♪
Hallelujah, Hallelujah ♪
Oh, Lord Jesus, praise unto you ♪