All language subtitles for Un monde presque paisible (2002) ENG

ALMOST PEACEFUL

Betty!

I'll come and say goodbye.

Don't miss the train.
And eat well there!

Put some weight on.

They must be here for the ad.
Let's go!

See you later!

Your children?

A full family... That's nice.

Maurice Abramowicz.
For the Mechanic's job.

Me too. I'm Joseph.

Very good.

Forty minutes...

You'll do fine.

I leave everyone standing.

Jacqueline...
Leon Frydman's wife.

Leon...

Andree Lambert.

Charles Grynstam.

Monsieur Albert.
Welcome...

Maurice Abramauschwitz!

I don't understand...

The French may not know
but here at the workshop, surely...

You all know...

I don't understand.

You can't understand.

Simply because you're not Jewish.

But don't lose heart...

Stay with us
and Maybe you'll manage it.

Too late...

The job's gone?

- Maybe next time?
- Maybe.

Put it here to see.

Even if you're not finished.

You know, Joseph...

That's your name right?

Women button their clothes
on the right,

whatever the season.

Can we mend it?

Ever worked in tailoring?

Yes.

- How old are you?
- Nineteen.

Yes, but can you do anything?

I passed my exams.

Fine, but do piping, braid,
trim and bias binding ring a bell?

Boss, tell them.
Maurice and Joseph don't know.

Piping, buttonhole, button loop,
press-stud or rayon

percaline, interfacing
were all passwords.

Monsieur Albert
spent the whole war

hidden in a room above
a tailor's shop on Rue de Sevres.

He'd bring up work and food for me.

We'd change passwords every day,

using words from the trade.

Whenever he heard someone coming up,

he'd grab his scissors
and go like this...

That was Madame Sarah.

Madame Sarah, come back up,
it's all right!

No, stay there, don't bother.
My wife's not in.

She just got back, Monsieur Albert.

Tomorrow at eight. Mechanic,
40 francs a piece. Suit you?

Yes, that's fine.

Assistant-mechanic, 25 francs.

Perfect, thank you.

See you tomorrow!

You think it's funny
to threaten her?

I was just telling my story...

Again! It's over now.
Can't you change your tune?

Pretty...

For a dressing gown...

Yes, it would be pretty.

It would be nice
if you could make me one.

This one's had it.

It's been in the war.

Exactly.

We're all alone...

Take it off for me.

You're back in the neighborhood...

Mr. Grynstam has taken a room near
his apartment to keep a watch out

if his wife and daughters
return from the camps.

Sign the lease, please.

I'd like a receipt
for payment of the rent

while Mr. Grynstam was in the camps.

I'll be out of pocket.
I have refund my former tenants.

They meant no harm.

You wouldn't have been back sooner
if it had been empty.

That's all settled.

I prefer that.

If it's too big for you,
let me know.

I have some nice
two-room apartments.

Have you got them?

Good.

It's only right!

I'm taking the jacket to Wasserman.
See you later.

Or tomorrow, maybe.

He's sent me away twice now.

What? With your magic touch?

Maybe I have a magic touch

but Wasserman hands out the work.

It hangs poorly.

Don't say that. It hangs well.
Look at the stitching.

I know from experience
this is the off-season.

But if there's no work,
just tell me so.

Don't keep stringing me along
till autumn.

It just doesn't hang well.

It doesn't hang well?

How does it hang now?

My model!

Dear father and mother,
There are lots of us staying here.

I've made new friends.

I get on well
with one called Georges.

The children? Everything okay?
Let me see.

I haven't finished!

We eat in the castle
and the food's very good.

They keep us occupied all day.

Here, we're even kept occupied
peeling vegetables.

There's a work studio too
where I did this drawing for you.

My son's an artist.

- Is artist a good job?
- Does it look like me?

We have to write once a week,

unless we have no one to write to,
like Georges.

Georges has an obsession with lists.

Lists of films.

He asks people what they've seen
and writes down the titles.

He starts over and over
to get them in alphabetical order.

That's new!

Beautiful...

Raphael send his love.

Has Betty written?

"Lots of love. Betty."

I'll send them a cake.

Two cakes, in fact.

The children pool their parcels
and then divide everything up.

There's not enough work for three.

Hello, Sarah.

I knew old Sarah would be back.

I'm sorry about the other day...

That's all right.

Some tea?
I was going to make some.

Do you know her?

By sight.
She visits all workshops.

You didn't know her husband.

Every day, he'd open the synagogue
on rue des Rosiers,

with his caftan and beard.

She'd say, "Better a beardless Jew
than a Jewless beard."

It all ended in a camp.

I'll take some more soap.

Me too, the iris scented one,
it was lovely.

Your list of marriageable people

smells of soap.

Was it better when soap
smelled of marriageable people?

I have girls... who have never let
a man approach them.

And some very decent women

who are single and free.

Keep your cards.

Look at t e photos, Charles.

Do it for my sake.

We have to marry for your sake?
That's new!

You make money from your soap.

Matchmaking is good
but It's not a breadwinner.

You can't trade in happiness.

Being alone isn't good, Charles.

Don't talk to me
about marriage again!

You hear me? Never again!

Some more tea?

No, thank you.

It's as bitter as donkey's piss!

I reckon Madame Sarah
thinks everything's bitter,

even Madame Lea's tea.

You're a smart one, Joseph.
The creases aren't in your mind.

I'll try to sort it out.

She's American. With a bosom...

Albert dressed her before the war.

If she gives us an order,

we'll have work
until we start winter coats.

Leon, know what this is?

. It's the bust of a lady
who'll give us all work, we hope.

Did you need both arms
to measure it?

The most amazing bust
I've ever seen...

About 60 inches.

About 60 inches.

Albert, be precise,
we need her custom!

My tape wasn't long enough

and I didn't dare measure
the missing bit.

Have you ever seen

a bust like it?

Where Abramauschwitz was, you'd fit
several people in your tape.

At least in the off-season
we can hear ourselves talk.

Jacqueline, tell us a story!

You know all my stories.

We don't.

You don't know this one.

It's new and not a story.

Talk about a pregnant pause!

It's about this dog,
our neighbor�s new dog.

He claims it barks
with a Yiddish accent.

I like the dog
but Leon can't stand it.

He. Thinks he's pretentious.

- His name's Leon. Like Strotsky.
- Trotsky.

- And like Leon.
- Yes.

- The neighbor or the dog?
- The neighbor.

No, the dog. Leon gets angry.

- He likes Strotsky, see.
- Trotsky!

"I'll call your dog, dog!" he said.

And the neighbor answered,
"He won't reply."

"Good", said Leon.
"We have nothing to say anyway!"

Three suits, five dresses,
two coats for in two weeks.

I suggested lots of pockets
with cuffs and topstitching.

It's more work and costs more.

She's chosen the fabric,
she wants color.

The hard part about work
is when there isn't any.

I forgot my pattern book.

I'll go.

Come and see something...

Do you like my dress?

You tell me to buy a dress I like
but do you like me in it?

I could alter
the skirt and the neckline,

but it really suits you.

No, I like it as it is.
I'll wear it to the choir tonight.

It's the second Thursday
of the month.

You can do something too.
Or maybe...

ask Madame Andree out.

Madame Andree!
Will you have dinner with Albert?

I'd love to.

What can we talk about?
Work? Children?

That's all we ever do!

You don't go out
to say what you say here.

I'd have finished "Anna Karenina"
by next Thursday.

We could have had
an interesting conversation.

But tonight...

- I'll have the set menu.
- Me too.

Some wine?

- Do you drink wine, Monsieur Albert?
- Do you, Madame Andree?

- The Cotes-du-Rhone looks good.
- Very good.

- Have you read "Anna Karenina"?
- No.

Neither have I.

A pity.
We could have talked about it.

Monsieur Albert,
I have a lot of things to tell you.

You know I have a sister in Orleans?

She has a child now.

During the war,
at the age of 17 she fell in love.

With a soldier.

A German.

Who bothers about the uniform
at that age?

They were young and carefree.

When the Americans arrived,
he panicked and fled.

My sister was left alone
with the baby.

We all had our own war.

It was worse

at the Liberation.

She had to walk naked in the street

with other naked women
whose heads were shaved.

And my mother ran behind,
trying to cover her with a coat.

My father almost died of shame.

Some people died
of much worse than shame.

I heard from her this morning.

When Lea suggested this dinner,
I saw it as an opportunity.

Staying in Orleans isn't a life.

Everyone knows her.

She'd like to come to Paris.

She could work in tailoring like me.

She's very brave, you know.

She�d get to work fast.

Her hair's grown back now.

So...

I wanted to ask you...

I can't, Madame Andree...

Even after all this time...

I'm spoiling dinner.

I just realized
look like that pretty actress...

But I'm nothing like Jean Gabin.

We spend a nice evening
because life is short

but a simple letter...

And I didn't know
what to talk about.

That reminds me of a song.

I won't sing it,
not in a French restaurant.

A Jewish restaurant
wouldn't be any change from home.

Sing it to me softly.

I'll translate
because it's in Yiddish.

"Life tells me a story
Of sin, love and punishment

"And sometimes life tells me
A story without an ending."

Now, I'll whistle the tune for you.

Was it you last time?

Yes.

My name's Simone.

Maurice.

See you again?

Bye.

Go to sleep. Sammy.
Mummy's next door.

Are you asleep?

Hello, Madame Rebaur!

It's all in good condition.

Thank you. People will be glad
of your mother's things.

I hope so. I must dash
to get Sammy to his childminder.

Everything okay?

I had a bad night.
Sammy was feverish.

He's at the childminder's anyway

but she won't take him tomorrow
if there's no change.

I don't know what I'll do.

Bring him.
He can have Raphael's bed.

Thank you!
I was hoping you'd say that.

A second child will keep you busy.

In September,
Sammy goes to nursery school.

Does he know that?

He understands
he's big enough to go to school.

Never tell a child he's big.

A child's a child.

He has to learn
his responsibilities.

- At the age of 4, I...
- Only parents are responsible!

What does "big" mean anyway?
Tying your own shoelaces?

Eating alone like a grown-up?

Why did you want a child
during the war?

Did we really want him?

Leon, did you really want Sammy?

If I hadn't,
I'd have done differently.

But separate rooms
didn't suit me so...

We didn't know what would happen.

We had Sammy,
had him circumcised

and Leon joined the Resistance.

But that's how you recognize a Jew!

If his life was going to be short,
at least it would be Jewish.

It's hard to explain

but I'm not ashamed of being Jewish!

That anti-Semite downstairs again!

I know, it was quieter before!

Terrible, isn't it?
You hear Jews now!

You even see families of them
along the boulevards.

They celebrate circumcision,

and even a baby daughter

means a celebration with cakes
and Slimovitz!

You'll get your invitation soon!

You're learning, Joseph.

No harm done.

You won't make that mistake again
but I'm afraid you'll make others.

Your heart, Monsieur Albert,
careful with your heart!

You have a tender Jewish heart.

The best medicine for the heart
is peace and tranquility.

No more films, no more plays,

stay out of bars,
never go out after 8 p. m.,

sit quietly at home,
waiting for the police to call.

Leon's acting!

Footsteps on the stairs,
a knock, my heart pounds...

I've found a better solution:
no more worries, total rest.

I'm in a transit camp.
Everything's fine and dandy.

He's started rehearsals.

To perform what?

O what?

We don't know. No one speaks Yiddish
well enough. Except for me.

I remember the show
after Paris was liberated.

People were so glad to be together,
the show never took place.

Every night, the actors
tried to perform,

but the audience never shut up.

The worst thing is when the audience
hushes you up

because they can't hear each other.

"We're free!"
"I paid for my seat!"

"My son was in the Resistance!"

And we actors waited our turn.
What a joke.

I remember if an actor sings,
the audience weeps. Even more now.

Leon, why don't you act
instead of pressing clothes?

The pay's the same if I act
on stage or in the workshop.

The off-season's long
on stage nowadays.

It's the workshop's off-season.

Why did you hire us?

You're good,
I want you for the season.

And I should have time
to train Joseph.

Good evening.

My turn to mend it.

Good evening, Monsieur Albert.

Maurice,

since this is the off-season,
would you make me a winter coat?

I already have the wool.

I'll pay you, of course.

35.

26.

36. A perfect figure.

Mechanics and finishers
often set up shop together.

When. The finisher
understands Jewish humor, that is.

You're awake, poppet?

Give me a kiss.

Go to your mummy!

Ungrateful imp!

Half the night by his bed.

Know what Raphael has written
this week?

"Nothing special to say.

"The cakes got here
but they crushed in the post.

"We ate them anyway.

"Betty hates it when you write
to her on my letters.

"She wants a letter
all for herself."

Our children are demanding.
That's good.

He's in a mood
because there was a party

at the childminder's today
and he can't go.

Listen. In a distant land,

there lived a little boy
called Samuel.

One day, Samuel fell ill.
A real illness, not like yours,

an illness that drove his parents
mad with worry:

Samuel couldn't breathe anymore.

They hunted out the best doctor
and wrote to him:

"We're tailors,
our Samuel can't breathe anymore."

He wrote back: "Come to see me
with bag of buttons."

Buttons, then.

You have buttons?

Your buttons.

A button. Thank you.

And the doctor cured Samuel
with a button just like this one.

He attached the button to his neck

and the air entered and le
through the holes.

Samuel could breathe.
He was cured.

But with each breath,
the air made a whistling sound.

Samuel was different now.
No one would play with him.

Samuel was sad
and ran off into the forest.

In the forest, there was a king
who worked miracles.

He let no one into his kingdom.

If he did, people would bother him
all the time.

He was protected by invisible beings

who fired catapults
with amazing precision.

The stones didn't wound people
but just kept them away.

Out of breath,
weary and disheartened,

he lay down under a tall tree
to sleep.

He was still sleeping when,
one autumn morning...

Well, Samuel?

He knew his name.

Let me die.

No. You want to live
but you can't manage it.

You want to see the king so he can
cure that whistle with a miracle.

But you have to earn your miracle.

Your whistle makes birds fall silent

and we can hear you
all over the forest.

Listen!

Come.

"I'll teach you the birds' song."
the old man said.

"They'll go with you
and take you to the king.

"Just listen to them
to understand what they sing."

And Samuel learnt to sing
like the warbler.

the goldfinch,
the robin, the song thrush.

and, one night, the nightingale.

Samuel loved the forest,
the old man and the birds.

Some days, when he ran,

Samuel felt as if he could fly too.

Cold weather arrived
and the leaves fell.

It was winter.

Are you the king?

Sit down near me.

You're angry with me
because I didn't cure you before.

I couldn't do it then
and can't do it now.

"You'll never be a child
like the others.

"You're special because
you managed to come this far.

"I haven't worked the miracle
but you have,

"you who entered the kingdom."

Samuel stands up,
rubs his backside,

because the ground is damp

at dawn.

He smiles at the old king.

But the king has vanished.

Samuel is alone and happy
in the clearing.

Is it over?

It's over.

I don't understand.

Was it you in the woods?

Isn't Simone here?

Not tonight. Her neighbor�s son
died and she's, staying with her.

It's awful...

Just think, what can you do
with the kid's things?

The things of a child
who dies at home?

I've no idea.

Any message for Simone?

No, don't bother.

Looking out for Albert?

No, I'm not waiting.

Albert only ever goes out
on business.

He never goes out for strolls.

"Some stroll, others work.

"And strolling
never gets you anywhere."

As Albert would say.

I've made some tea.

Smell these, Charles.

A rose's scent is stronger
at the end of summer.

You're calm, Charles.

Your calm does me good.
I like it when you're around.

I'm happy here at the workshop.

Do you know why?
Because Albert makes sure I am.

Even in the off-season,
he finds work for me.

When he's on a delivery like now,

he asks you to keep me company.

He helps me go on living.

He never says things
to help me go on living.

Can one say those things?

Some people do.

And that would be enough?

I'd like that.

Albert's like that.
He does things, he doesn't say them.

Albert loves his family, not me.

Before the children, he loved you.

Perhaps he never said so
but you never wondered.

Now that he loves
Betty and Raphael as well,

you're panicking.

But without you around,
he wouldn't have much of a family.

Before we married,
he'd kiss me on the street.

Once, he asked his mother
to send me a shawl,

a black shawl, with big flowers.

That was the last we heard
from his family before the war.

I gave it to the farmer's wife
who hid Betty and me.

Albert never buys me presents now.
He tells me to buy what I want.

Did you wonder if he loved you less
during the war?

I was too busy worrying.

I'm afraid of growing old,

of no longer wanting to fight
to be happy.

I feel so alone.

It's horrible being so alone
with your husband.

You don't want to listen, so
you can guess what I'm going to say.

With you,

I don't feel lonely or afraid.

Is that supposed to comfort me?
Do you pity me?

Do I look as if I pity you?
Don't be ironic,

even if your suffering
gives you that right.

Suffering doesn't give you rights.

On Sundays,
in the empty workshop,

I always look at your table,
I come to your place.

Each morning, I'm eager to get here
to be near to you.

That's how I realize
I was missing you.

In the evening, if Albert and I
don't talk.

I think of you.

Maybe Albert
thinks of someone else too.

Because I'm here,
you think I'm available...

and start seeing me as someone else.

I'm not free.

My memories keep me busy.

I haven't left my wife
and she hasn't left me.

We've been parted. That's all.

I'm not alone.

We lived 10 years together.

Happy times can vary in length.
Mine lasted 10 years.

I have memories for a lifetime.

Don't take my wife's place,
she's not here to defend herself.

I live day to day
because that allows me to remember

and if I don't remember,
who will?

When you're moved,

you wipe your glasses.

But I've noticed
you only wipe the inside.

Because you cry and hide it.

I need to live quietly.

Just quietly.

I cherish the afternoons
when we're here alone,

with your tea
quenching my thirst and...

You think that was easy to say?

Can't you tell I've been
thinking about it for weeks?

What must I do if my belly aches
when you look at me?

Do you think that's easy to say too?

But if I hadn't said it,
I'd never forgive myself.

If Albert asks
why I haven't finished, tell him...

I don't know...
Tell him what you like.

Good evening, Lea.

Has Charles gone?

Charles told me
one of your stories once.

You had a friend with
a younger brother that he tormented.

Remember?

Yes, it was amazing
what he put up with.

And you couldn't stand it.

One day, you slapped the little boy.
For no reason.

That's right. The little boy.

It seems so unfair.

The older boy, shocked and enraged,
slapped you in turn

and never spoke to you again.

I never saw them again.

You did. In Paris, before the war.
Together and inseparable.

They were arrested on the same day
and deported together.

Have I ever hit you, Lea, my love?

Charles hasn't hit you either?

I don't need to hit Charles to know
that you and I are inseparable.

Come on.

Let's eat.

Sit down.

Raphael has told us a lot about you.

Is this a nice break
from summer camp?

Have some bread, Georges.
Won't you sit down?

I don't want jam.

You won't sit down?

He doesn't want jam.

It's good strawberry jam
from the country.

No, I don't want any.

I've got work waiting.

I've made up Betty's bed
for Georges.

You can sleep in our bed.

Put your bear in the big bed
so he can get used to it.

"Always money matters,
never family."

"Always money matters. Never..."
That's not it.

Money! That's all you talk about!

My mother sewed too.
My father went out to work.

One evening,
he brought home a big jar of jam.

He wanted us to eat it right away.

Mother said it was a luxury

and we should wait
till harder times.

She put it in the cupboard.

One day. In '42,
they knocked at our door.

It was the police.
I was still in bed.

My father picked me up
and hid me in the cupboard.

He said,
"Don't move, don't say a word."

I'd never seen him so pale before.

He closed the door again
but I could see through a crack.

There were three officers.

My father took a suitcase
and started packing.

I couldn't see my mother,

as if my father
was standing between us on purpose.

They left.
An officer carried their case.

Officer carried their case.

After that,

I stayed a long time
in the cupboard.

I think I was crying.

Then I noticed the jar of jam
next to me,

so I opened it
and ate it with my fingers.

Then, much later, I got dressed.

I had nothing to do at home,

so I went down to the street

and, right away, I threw it all up.

A lady that I knew

looked after me
and took me home with her.

Are you asleep?

It was Raphael!

To test my resistance to pain.

I forbid you to suffer!

Betty, go and see your father!

Not bad.

Warm up the cocoa.

I won't be long!

I'm a schlimazel!

What's that?

If I spill the pins on the table,
I'm clumsy.

But if they fall
between the floorboards,

as they have done,

and I prick my fingers
picking them up, as I have done,

and I get blood on my new shirt,

which I haven't,
then I'm a schlimazel.

You know Yiddish?

No.

Yes, I know a song
we learnt at summer camp.

Sing it for me, then.

Schlimazel!

Can we catch the train alone?

Yes, it's not too far away.

But mother and I want you
to take care of Betty.

Next!

You have all the papers.

You lived in the 18th district
before the war?

Did your parents
request naturalization?

They wanted to live here.
They weren't naturalized.

Sent to the camps?

July 16, 1942.

Have you forgotten, Inspector?

I'll do my utmost to make sure
you won't get what you want.

Next!

You let a Jew leave
a police station? That's progress

I know you, Inspector.

I recognize you.

You arrested my parents
at 27, rue Marcadet

on July 16, 1942.

My parents and me.

But, just before we reached
the stadium, I ran off.

A 14-year-old runs fast.

I didn�t stop to turn and look
at my parents.

I just ran faster.

And I know now
that they didn't turn

to avoid attracting attention.

Courage...

That's true courage, Inspector.

Not watching your son flee

to give him a chance of survival.

A nice little story, Joseph Mintz.
Feel free

to tell it.

Your ideas can't change history.

I can enter and leave this place
as I please now.

Maybe I'm stateless but I'm free.

I'll write this story of mine
one day, however long it takes me.

You don't like my name,

you don't like me,
you don't like us,

but I'm alive!

And I'll write. In French.

I'll be a writer.

I came back to tell you...

"Thank you, Inspector."

What's the news?

Press debates.

Two collaborationist reporters
risk the death penalty.

The Resistance paper's reporter
says it's unfair,

that there's no blood
on their hands.

I feel I agree.

A militia member is guilty,

but if they hadn't written,
"Death to the Jews",

maybe he would never have joined
the militia.

I feel no pity for them.

Let's see what we can do
to salvage Joseph's work.

I didn't say I felt pity,

just that their hands
weren't bloody.

But they are. An intellectual
is the first one responsible.

We ought to get to work.

The ladies will soon be back and
we haven't finished one piece yet.

- Hello, Andree!
- Hello, Jacqueline!

What's the big rush?
You're not late.

Habit, comrades.

Albert. I have
an excellent bargain for you.

Art is a first-rate investment.

Why talk about investment?

Can't I buy a painting
just because I like it?

Unfortunately, painters
sell little during their lifetime,

but, after they die,
their paintings are worth a fortune.

Why don't they do paintings
to make a living?

Do I make clothes
to sell after I die?

Artists are ahead of their time...

If they're so smart,
why don't they try

painting something for their time
that will help them live?

I have paintings "for their time",
as you put it.

You think I'm a schmuck?

Sorry, but first you talk
about priceless paintings

and now you'll sell me one
without a future?

Why do these artists
need a representative?

When a painter paints, he paints.

He doesn't handle his sales.

I do it for art's sake,
I don't take a commission.

Do you know why I do it, Albert?

Look at these canvases.

If your children ask
what life was like there,

you can tell them,
if you want to talk about it.

But painters like this one
can show them their past.

That's six memberships.

No, five...

I'm already a member.

Do you like painting, Joseph?

As much as sewing?

I do, you're making fun of me!

Excellent choice, Albert.
You won't tire of it.

I'm very angry, Sarah.
I have been all along.

As soon as I saw you,
I know I'd buy a painting.

And I knew I'd choose this one!

And you're convinced
you convinced me.

It's-very annoying!

The artist could accept
a tailored suit as payment.

That bothers me.
I like it and I'd rather pay for it.

Lea,

I just got a real bargain!

Remember these villages?

Yes, but I was only little.

The musician's all alone.
Where are the others?

After we left,
we never even wrote anymore.

Except for the New Year or births.

It will be a good model for Raphael.

Think the children will like it?

Will they ask us about the old life
one day?

If I wanted to forget
what it was like there,

I couldn't with this painting.

Let's face the facts:
Raphael is an artist.

You can face the facts
with a sound trade behind you!

A tailor like you?

It's tailor or artist with you!

I want him to be happy!

If they're going to be happy,
they need a trade.

A boy does especially.

There's already an artist
called Raphael.

So what?

It could be lucky.

Check in their encyclopedia.

Your Raphael died at 37.

You can leave luck like that
in the encyclopedia!

Since we have time
to make our minds up,

we can go to bed if you want.

I want to look at this.

Go to bed, I'm not sleepy.

Am I disturbing you?

I was awake
and since there's work...

Did your son draw it?

Bravo, it's well done.

Hi mother says he'll be an artist.

He won't be a tailor anyhow.

I work so much
to make sure he won't be a tailor.

- It's a poor man's job?
- You said it.

We come from nowhere, we're nobody
and we own nothing.

With a lot of luck, we survive

and, with time...

With a lot of luck.

Is this yours?

While I was hiding,
I invented a cutting method.

An emergency method
that you can fit in you pocket.

One basic principle:

for an item to hang well,
all the seams and pleats,

have to pass
through certain points of the body.

Such as the chest,
the hollow of the neckline,

the slope of the shoulder,
the belt line,

the armpit...

This diagram is for size 16.

I worked out the distances
between the points.

The conversion table for other size
is on the back.

But remember...

It's only to be used
if all the real tailors vanish.

Luckily, a few survived

and my method won't be used.

My son won't need it
so I'll throw it out...

unless you're interested.

Yes, I am interested.

Thank you.

This is this winter's fabric.

What is it? It's like plush.

"Teddy-bear",
a tribute to Theodore Roosevelt,

cousin of President Roosevelt.

Yes, Maurice, we have to learn,
this is peacetime.

You're a real character!

I played your number in the lottery

and I lost.

I like you, I thought I'd be lucky.

You're leaving? Say something!

An can't leave without a word?

You can't stay
down in the dumps forever.

Wait, I'll get dressed
and we'll go for a coffee.

I'm going back to work.

Hello!

Are you crazy?
You think money gives you rights?

What attitude is that?

Your first time?

Stay away from redheads,
they're trouble.

Try another one.

Here! Try two others.

How about a coffee?

You had a hard-on in the park.

You did, you had hard-on.

Don't want to talk about it?

I was thinking of Madame Himmelfarb,

my first boss's wife.

I remembered.
the first time I saw her.

I sometimes remember,
pleasant memories when I feel sad.

I don't have many of those.

I tell myself that something
pleasant could happen to me.

Well?

When Madame Himmelfarb
sat down opposite me,

I thought she had no panties.

I was only 14 an wasn't sure.

In the afternoon,
she wore a pair of white panties.

I saw the difference
when she got off her stool.

At 14, seeing a woman's panties
is a big thing.

I tried to make sure
no one could see my erection.

I'd have seen it.

The next day,
I sat in the same place,

opposite Madame Himmelfarb's stool,

and saw she wasn't wearing panties.

So I put my work down and
rushed out to the landing toilet.

I barely had time to undo my flies.

I went back to work but didn't dare

look at Madame Himmelfarb
on her stool in front of me.

That afternoon, Madame Himmelfarb
had her panties on again

but I went back out

to the toilet
in memory of the morning.

When I think of my apprenticeship,
I see the toilet,

not the workshop.

Since they all thought

something was wrong.
I said I had the runs.

I learned to jerk off so fast

that my toilets trips seemed normal.

I was very fond
of Madame Himmelfarb.

When I see a naked woman,

I think of her fur

that seemed so soft to me.

Yes, every time.

One morning, she went
into the next room with her husband.

I heard a laugh.

I saw Himmelfarb's hand
slip under her skirt.

I had to run straight out.

I'd only just begun
when I heard a splash.

It was my thimble
that I'd forgotten to take off.

My desire vanished.

I went back in, stammering
that the thimble was in my pocket,

and fell out
when I pulled my trousers up.

I was embarrassed to say it
in front of her.

Himmelfarb burst out laughing,
opened his drawer

and handed me another thimble,
a silver one.

He said, "Have this one.

"My father gave it to me
when I was an apprentice.

"You can hand it on
to your own apprentice one day."

Will you do that?

No. I lost it on the train

that took the Jews away
from Szydlowiec.

It's like a trail of tears.

The only stock that never runs out,

...as Monsieur Albert would say,

What can we do?

What we've learned to do. Work.

And screw.

Working and screwing
is the same for me.

Want to go?

- I'm early again.
- Hello, Leon, fancy a coffee?

What's new?

"You know what,
Rob Scholem Alei'hem,

we want to talk of happy things.

"Any news of the war?"

That's "Tevie the Milkman".
Maybe we'll do that on stage.

Don't I know you?

We spent a night in the same cell
in April '45. Remember?

Yes, after an anti-Semite
demonstration.

The police arrested
more Jews than Fascists.

As usual

You have to laugh.

I was going to see a friend
and ended up in a pitched battle.

You weren't back, Charles.

France was free but,
in the heart of Paris,

some still shouted
"Death to the Jews!"

"Keep France French!"

The defenders of the homeland
on the streets to prevent a move!

And you upheld some pathetic
Jew's right to return home.

That's all it was:
two gangs of losers

fighting over some fleapit.

You have to laugh.

A man in uniform
commanded the French side.

Probably a skiver.

Anarchy reigned on your side.

The French attacked
every Jew they spotted.

They're not hard to spot!

When I got there, two bastards

were kicking an old Jew
on the ground.

If I'd had my gun,

I'd have shot them.

Those who say Jews
are too cowardly to fight,

must have regretted it.

You're tough. You went on fighting
after the police got you.

I don't give a damn
about the camps and the Jews.

I just like a good punch-up.

The rest just makes me laugh.
See you round, maybe!

The Fascists are still here.

They hang out in bars,
drinking German beer.

You were right about ideas
being able to kill.

Hello, Lea.

Hello, Charles.

Everything okay?

Charles, I love you.

A letter from Betty this time.

Read it.

"We were in the grounds
doing a drawing,

"when Max suddenly shouted, 'Daddy!'

"and we all looked up.

"Max ran over to him and hugged him.

"And they started crying.

"Raphael says that Max's father
had been deported.

"Max went away with him.

"I know you weren't deported

"but if you come to fetch us
at the summer fete,

"we could leave together.
That would be nice.

"Lots of love."

A trip to the country's a good idea.

I'd love to go with you.

There's something else.

"Message for Charles

"from Raphael."

I'm sorry, Lea. It's between men.

You know everything's between men
for me now.

I'm leaving, Lea.

For Canada. Or perhaps Australia.
My mind's not made up yet.

I can't go back to the apartment.

I can t wait at the window
to see if...

I've simply decided to leave.

In Paris, people can only ask me
about myself now I'm all alone.

Perhaps, far away,
someone will ask me about you

and I'll be able to answer
since you'll write to me.

Hello.

Hello, Albert.

- What's this package?
- It's for Raphael.

Faster than Maurice, as usual!

I've invited Simone.
She needs to see a bit of greenery.

Hello, Madame.

I, Madam.

Are you in tailoring?

No, not at all.

I don't sew on buttons,
I undo them.

Very interesting.

Sewing or undoing, it's all work!

Where are Leon and Jacqueline?

- Jacqueline's had the baby!
- Already?

Everything okay?

Fine.

A bit earl but fine.
She had it in hospital this time.

And?

It's a boy!

Wonderful!

- What's his name?
- Nathan.

- Can you take him?
- One more ma with us!

Can I pick him up tonight?

No, leave him with us.
Give Jacqueline a hug! Bye.

If I have other 2 or 3
and they have 5 each, that's 25.

If the next generation has 5 each,
that's more than 100.

Imagine the family photo!

Wait!

Go and see what's wrong.

He's sad. He must have his reasons.

Sorrow can be inconsolable at times.

But children have the right
to their own sorrow

and, sometimes, we can help.
Go and ask him.

What's the matter? Can I help?

I did a somersault and tore it.

I hate this costume.

You're the tailor.

Fantastic! Nothing's more charming
than a naughty boy.

Thanks, I'll be off.

I told you that I had
no pleasant memories.

I think I'm making myself one now.

And I have o think
something pleasant can happen?

I don't now, Maurice,
that's your problem.

Know what, Maurice?

I think I'll be almost hungry soon.

You get your prizes

at that table there.

There's a fishing game for children

and a casino for grown-ups.

Your Albert's kind.
He's a good man.

And serious too.

Maybe a bit too serious.

Don't you find men more attractive
with women around them?

They're brighter and livelier.

A serious man
has his good points too.

And you're a serious woman,
that's obvious.

Don't count on that.
What about Maurice?

I don't think it will last.
Nor does he.

It's not easy
with all he's been through.

You weren't in the camps?

I dropped a clanger with Maurice.
so I'm wary now.

No, nor was Albert.
Charles was though.

Charles is the one sitting alone?

Yes.

Maurice and I keep each other warm,
we get on well.

The coconut shy...
What a massacre.

Schlimazel!

Go and sit with the others.

You've scored.

Go on, have fun!

Show your true self,
not your serious side.

Interested in photography?
Want to try?

Yes, I'd like to.

No, leave your hair.
It suits you.

You're too hot.

Slip your jack off.

Prettily, keep it feminine.

Don't look at me, look at the boy.

Now smile, caress your mouth,
pensively...

You're thinking,

sigh, stick your bust out,

you understand?

Want to carry on?

Lower your hand to your bosom,

linger over the breast,

try to get the nipple hard,

and look absorbed.

Have you seen your wife?

She's beautiful!
The countryside suits her.

Living gives you an appetite!

What is it?

Pastrami.

My first pastrami sandwich.

How about a toast to that?

"The Rose and the Reseda"

by Louis Aragon.

"The one who believed

in heaven"

"The one who didn't believe"

"Both loved the beauty
Held prisoner by the guards"

"One climbed the ladder
The other waited below"

- "The one who believed in heaven"
- "The one who didn't believe"

"Both were faithful to her
With lips, heart and arms"

"And both said let her live,
What will be will be"

- "The one who believed in heaven"
- "The one who didn't believe"

'When hail strikes the wheat,
All delicacy is madness"

"Madness lies in quarrelling
Within the common fight"

"The one who believed in heaven"

"The one who didn't believe"

From the castle keep,
The sentry fired"

"Twice and one staggered,
The other fell and died"

"The one who believed in heaven"

"The one who didn't believe"

"In the cruel dawn,
They pass away"

- "The one who believed in heaven"
- "The one who didn't believe"

"Repeating the name

Of she whom they never betrayed"

"And their blood flows,
Bright red from both"

- "The one who believed in heaven"
- "The one who didn't believe"

"It flows and flows,
Feeding the earth he loved"

'So, in the new season,
Muscat grapes may ripen"

"And raspberries and plums
The cricket will sing"

"Flute and cello sing
Of the dual love that burned"

"The lark and the swallow"

"The rose and the reseda"

David meet Joseph, the schlimazel
in my father's workshop.

That's worse than clumsy.

Joseph,

meet David.

Can I listen too?

David's been here
since his father went away.

He was tiny.

Before he left,
his father gave him his watch

and showed him how to wind it.

David has wound it
every nigh since

and he has never let it stop.

It works very well.

It's beautiful too.

Thank you.

Betty, are you coming
with Georges and Raphael?

- Coming, Kid?
- His name's David.

Coming, David?

See, my sweet love,
this is our life.

Charles, I wanted to ask you...

Do you think Madame Sarah
would show my photo around?

Go on!

That's your answer.

Hello, Madame.

I'd like some paper.

To write something.

Have a seat, if you want.
I have to go out.

To stay here with the children,
what do I need to do?

You have to want to. And ask to.

I want to. And I'm asking.

We'll see.

Okay, David?

Trace

Bond