All language subtitles for Le.Brio.2017.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

What I observe are
the ravages of today

and I think about the present and the
world where I am living my final days;

It is not a world that I like.

You wrote this:

"A graphic writing.
The word for the word.

It's the word that conveys the
idea and not the other way around."

Here is a mind-boggling
quatrain:

"Some booze, some
pure, vamps, whores"

You can see that it's the words that
convey the idea and not the inverse.

Now, I really feel like I have
done something since I am attacked.

Also, I must say that when you're living
abroad, 10,000 kilometers from France,

it is a great pleasure, in the historic
period that we are going through

and the difficult times that we are
living, to see that we publish such a novel

that raises some deep controversy,
animosity, hatred, resentment, threats, etc.

That's wonderful. I think it's only
country in the world where you find this,

and because of that same reason, I think
it's naturally the most beautiful country.

Stupidity is when you live and say to
yourself "That's enough, I live, I'm fine."

when you don't kick yourself in the ass
every morning saying "It's not enough."

"You don't know enough, you don't
see enough, you don't do enough."

Stupidity is idleness. A kind
of grease around the heart.

A kind of grease
around the brain.

Your student's card, please.

Welcome to Panthéon-Assas
University.

Excuse me. Sorry.

romanicist. I should have talked about
Carolingians, Merovingians, the Napoleonic Code

but, to avoid boredom, we will rather
tackle the great theories of history

beginning with the wonders of
Roman law, the Babylonian code

all the way to the Dreyfus Affair, Maurice
Papon, 'Les fleurs du Mal', Ravachol.

We are going to study some oratory
masterpieces, some sublime texts

that should be registered in
the heritage of humanity..

Fuck.

- Miss.

I'm sorry.

- Miss, please. You are..

I am a first-year student.

Excuse me?

I said I am a
first-year student.

No. You don't understand what I'm saying.
What's your name?

Ah, sorry. Neïla Salah

And your first name?

Neïla. My first name is Neïla
ans Salah is my family name.

Is it clearer to you now?

Well done.

Your aggressiveness as a response to my
incomprehension is quite interesting.

Judging from your civility, your
sense of punctuality and elegance,

it is obvious that you have decided,
in this first day of higher education,

to pay tribute to the institution and
to the professors at your service.

This is a lecture hall
and not Sports studies.

You are late.

Yes.

Yes, sir.

You come in the middle of the
lecture and you say nothing.

You have nothing to say.

Yes. Excuse me.

It's an order.

What?

What?

I don't understand.

It's very clear to me
that you don't understand.

In French, we say: "Please,
accept my apologies."

Are you serious?

Yes, I am serious.

What's the matter? I was
only five minutes late.

What do you take it out on me?

There we go with the
persecution complex.

That's typical.
Well, let's carry on.

Typical? Typical
of what exactly?

And here is some controversy.

Well, I don't know, Miss.

I'm asking you. In your
opinion, typical of what?

That's racist. You have
no right to say that.

No. No.

Calm down, please. Calm down.

I was saying typical
of first-year students.

If I have said typical of these students,
so to speak, who have diverse roots

who come sleep in the class for three
months before abandoning their studies

because, undoubtedly, their teacher are
so mean and the French are so racist...

- You are the one who's racist. - Then you
would have been able to accuse me of racism.

But, none of that is true. Your defamatory
accusations, you can keep them to yourselves!

Fuck! It's the same
mess as last year.

Are you okay? I don't intend
to abandon after 3 months.

But coming late and wearing
these rags in your first day

doesn't say that of your motivation
and your inspirations, Miss.

Well, it's not like we are going
to waste the entire course on you.

You should know that there are
people here who are willing to learn.

Let us continue then.

Well done.

Son of a bitch.

Excuse me. I'm sorry.
Right.

We were talking
about Roman law..

It's a very old law, of course,
that has been constantly

evolving the same
way as the French law

unlike the Sharia
law for example..

one of the most archaic
versions of law...

ever created by the humankind,
which had a low tendency to evolve

unlike French law that is evolving.
For example, up until the 1960s,

we weren't able to name our children as
we liked, we had to refer to the calendar

whereas today, if one wants to call his child
'stool', 'Carte orange' or Abdurahman..

it's possible.

So, we can identify several periods
in the evolution of Roman law.

The oldest strata remain subject
to controversy and speculation.

Originally, in fact, it was hardly
distinguishable from worship and religion,

and remained almost...

Ah, my dear children. Let me introduce
the world-famous Grégoire Viviani,

our beloved president.

Look at him. He is splendid.

We cannot deny the fantastic
impression you leave on the freshmen.

Alas, It seems that your charm fades away as
our cherished students grow some gray matter.

You are irresistible. I would
love to hear you talk for hours,

but let's go straight to
the point, dear president.

As you know, we organize a
intercollegiate public speaking contest

every year in favor
of the freshmen.

I would not presume to illustrate to
you the prestige of this competition

or to outline the list of all the
illustrious winners that are today

the leading figures
in our law universe.

I leave here the registration forms,
on the desk of my prominent colleague.

I invite you to fill these forms as
soon as possible. And to remind you,

Assas University hasn't won for 4 years.
We have a revenge to get.

I'm counting on you to restore the
reputation of our great institution.

Hey, wait for me.

One could say he was giving you a hard
time. He didn't take it easy on you.

You will go on with your synonyms and
paraphrases all day or it is over?

No but frankly, you should file a
complaint. I'm serious. What did you say?

Did you see how he aggressed you? Besides,
that's easy. You are the perfect target.

What do you mean,
perfect target?

Go ahead. Go on, my friend.
Finish your thoughts.

What do you mean?
Well, you know what I mean.

No, I don't know what you mean.
That's enough. Stop.

You mean I didn't have a music teacher
and go sailing in the Île de Ré

when I was young. Is
that what you mean?

No. That's not at
all what I said

Listen to me, cute smile.
You forget about me.

Stay away from me.
Is that clear?

That mean bastard.

You should have a functioning knowledge
in order to claim the 'privileged' title.

Additionally, you are favored by
nature that, in its huge indulgence,

it gave you this skin color to
distinguish your other cheek.

This is a good one.

So, did it go well today?

Mhm.

So?

What did you make for dinner?

A filet mignon and
some new potatoes.

Serve yourself, Neïla. You'll find
everything you need in the fridge.

Are you leaving?

Yes. I'm leaving.

Again?

Some nachos.

Are you happy now?

Come on, the Salade
niçoises are the best.

Yeah. You're working. Me too.

Nah. I know.

Yeah. I know.

Goodbye, honey.

Look who's coming.

Oh. How are you, Super French?

I was humiliated by a
professor in front of everyone.

That's normal. You're taking
your studies too seriously.

Look at me. I am
a private driver.

No resumes to send, I am my
own boss and nobody bothers me.

You should take your
driving test first, brother.

I'm sorry Mounir, but being a football player
at 8, rapper at 14 and private driver at 18,

I think that's not
a good stereotype.

Is that so? You
are the stereotype.

Working your ass off at university to
find yourself jobless after 5 years

just because you don't
have the right family name.

Yes. I'm coming

Hurry up.

Good evening.

Goodbye, Neïla.

You're leaving? Okay, go.

What?

Nothing.

Well, I think I'm leaving too.

Right. You should be in a good
shape for your TV program tomorrow.

But, what do you want to do?

You're right. There
is nothing to do.

I'm going to bed myself.

Hey, not even a
'Goodnight Mounir'.

Good night, Mounir.

Fuck. What did I say?

by humankind, that has
a low tendency to evolve

unlike French law
that's evolving.

For example, up until the 1960s,

we weren't able to name our children as
we liked, we had to refer to the calendar

whereas today, if one wants to call his child
'stool', 'Carte orange' or Abdurahman..

it's possible.

You really screwed up, Pierre.

Especially what you
said about the Sharia.

It's not politically correct.
Is that what's bothering you?

Would you like it better if I say 'Je
suis Charlie' between every 2 sentences?

I remind you that I trusted you with this
course to get you out of your deadlock

and not so that you can have fun stirring a hornet's
nest stigmatizing the kids that you don't like.

It's too much this time, Pierre.

You must at least know that nobody is
enjoying your boasting since a long time.

I have received complaints from the
students about all the bullshit you say

in your lecture hall after only
the first hour of your course.

You don't follow the schedule,
you humiliate the students,

you make the teachers
your enemies.

Even the guard you
haven't spared.

The guard is a moron.

He says you are racist.

Maybe, but not as much as him.

There is already 3 Facebook pages
and an online petition demanding

that you be discharged and presented
to the disciplinary board.

They're asking for
your head, Pierre.

My head? Are you serious?

Not just the students,
the entire council.

You put my ass on the line.

I have no choice but to present
you to the disciplinary board.

I have no choice.

If I do nothing, it's the faculty
that's going to be on the hot seat.

Look where we have come.

I think I can help
you support your case

in order to have a maximum
of positive reviews.

I'm listening.

This story of racist comments.
Neïla Salah.

What about her?

You present her to me at
the public speaking contest.

You prepare her to me. She will
get through the first rounds.

We are heading straight for disaster.
The institution is not ready.

That's what we should do.

We make as much noise as we can
to shut the rectors' mouths.

It's not a problem
whether she wins or loses.

Anyway, I've been trying for 10 years to
erase the bad reputation of the university.

We could benefit from the image of a
young immigrant woman representing Assas

in a contest for the elite under the
supervision of the eminent Pierre Mazard.

My salvation is in the
hands of Neïla Salah.

That's a nightmare.

Are you still here?

3 months haven't yet passed.

Please wait for me at
the end of the course.

Have you registered for the
public speaking contest?

No.

Is this something typical too?

Ah, okay.

You are mad at me because of my
little pretention the other day.

Pretention is when we pretend not
saying what we are exactly saying.

"And not to mention the odors."

You see? I pretend not talking
about it, but really I am.

That was an example.

Mhm.

And the other day, that
was also an example?

Maybe, you didn't
mean what you said?

Of course not.

Or maybe yes.

That's not important.
That's not the problem.

What matters is to be right.
We don't care about the truth.

That's precisely what I'm going
to teach you, to always be right.

Do you understand?

I want to prepare you.

Huh?

The contest. I want to help you.

But I don't want anything from you.
Thanks a lot!

Yes, of course.

It's more comfortable not to try anything, to
remain a victim for the rest of one's life.

One day, you will realise
that your failure was planned.

Not by me or the
university, but by yourself.

And this will certainly
be of great help to you.

Miss, if acquiring the means of your
independence doesn't interest you,

then you deserve every obstacle,
every rock that's waiting for you.

And not to mention
the humiliations.

Do you see? Another pretention.

This is a game for you, right?

I'm waiting for you tomorrow, 9 a.m.
in Hall 4.

What a moron!

Go to hell.

Let's go?

Eloquence, rhetoric, the
art of speaking well.

To convince, one should
also be good at dialectics,

a series of rigorous reasoning
intended for swaying the interlocutor

and the audience in your
favor, because, in reality,

that's the only
thing that matters.

Convince. Be right. We
don't care about the truth.

Do you remember?

We will then begin
with the basics.

Schopenhauer, a very funny German guy
who lived in the early 19th century.

He also wrote a very
funny treatise called

' The Art of Being Right: 38
Ways to Win an Argument '.

Let us begin.

For instance, if I propose this: We must
absolutely restore the death penalty

and you want to prove that I
am wrong, what would you say?

That the death penalty was abolished in
the interest of humanizing the justice

of the French republic.

That's a crazy way to talk.
You sound like an Uber driver.

"Sir, Madam, do you have a favorite
radio station you would like to listen to

in the car at your convenience."

This obsession of making long and convoluted
phrases with adjectives everywhere.

During the contest, the
time is accounted for.

You have to be effective,
fast and natural.

"Do you want to restore the death penalty?
You are therefore on the side of death.

I'm on the side of
life "End of debate.

It's the homonymy stratagem.

You take any word from your
opponent's phrase and you attack him

by adding a value judgment that has
nothing to do with the question.

"I have always adored potatoes."

"Adoration, that is an evasive
and fallacious subject."

That's good.

We have 38 of them. We will
go through them one by one,

but we will also study
Cicero, Aristotle.

Basically, we have
a lot of work ahead.

This is for tomorrow, 9 a.m.

You're lying.

Look at her, Keufran.

She's lying. That's obvious.

No, she's not.

If she were, she wouldn't
have killed Abde.

That's a classic technique, to
make us believe she is a werwolf.

Guys, you have to
make a decision here.

Neïla, give us one good reason
why you are not a werewolf

and why we wouldn't
eliminate you.

I don't even understand the grammatical
construction of your question, brother.

Stop your linguistic boasting.
Just answer.

I just want to remind you that,
statistically speaking, being a werewolf

3 times in a row is a little
bit weird, don't you think?

You can do whatever
you want then.

I would also like to draw your
attention, ladies and gentlemen,

to the insistence of Mounir on eliminating
me in the beginning of the game.

This makes us forget about him.

To attack before being attacked
when we know that we are guilty.

A very common but
mediocre technique.

If you want my opinion,
that's suspicious.

You can do as you
please after that.

Don't listen to her. She's
trying to hypnotise you.

I'm not. It's you
who's asking questions.

No. She's right, bro. You
really look like a suspect.

And you look like a Maghrebi.

I kill you, Mounir.
You are dead.

Are you serious, Mr. ISIS?
I saved your life.

I told you I am a Witch.

I agree with him.

She is not guilty, and
I will kill Mounir.

Yes. I will kill you.
You too?

I have a good memory, you know?

Go ahead. You never forget.

- Remember there will be future games.
- Go ahead. No problem.

You didn't say a thing, Anissa.

What tells you he's not a werewolf?
There is something that tells me.

He's not a werewolf.

Do you see? These are 2 friends, pal.
Tells you what?

2 friends, that's
good friendship.

You don't know these
values, coward.

I'm not your friend, right?

Don't talk to me.
You've annoyed me.

You are the one annoying me.
Who's with eliminating Mounir?

Me. One, two, three, four.

Die. One, two, three, four.

- You die.
- No. Stop, stop.

Give away your card. You
are unanimously killed.

Go ahead, turn your card.
You're dead.

Go on. You're dead.

- Show us your card. - You know what?
Remember this one very well, assholes.

Go on.

What's this? Is this a werewolf?

That's a witch, morons.

I told you 1000 times,
it's her the werewolf.

Werewolf.

Damn, that killed me. Let us
play another one right away.

Accept the defeat.
It's over, bro.

And the loser is...

That's normal. You played against
the best lawyer in France.

Best lawyer of France?
And of Navarre.

What?

Since when one can be a werewolf
and a lawyer at the same time?

Shut up!

Come on, guys. My mother is about
to come, and I will be in deep shit.

Let's go, bro.

Mounir, do you know what
you've just called me?

You called me Master.

Yeah, Master Crow perched on a tree.

Poor girl.

Poor girl, but I will make
some really good pleading.

I leave you with your defeat.

Of course, your judiciary honor.

What's the matter with your lame jokes.
You're a real asshole with her.

Asshole? Are you serious, bro?
Yes. Get away.

It's you who's in love with here.
We can all see that.

Do you see how he
aggresses me every time?

You like that.

Good luck.

Good night, honey.

What for?
Tomorrow.

Be safe.

Good night, Pierre.

See you tomorrow!

Good evening.

Good evening, Madam.

It's a pug. It's 6 years old.

I don't understand how
did you get to this point.

What do you mean?

Picking up canine excrements.
I really don't understand.

Do you get a sort of
pleasure from doing that?

That's the only explanation,
because that's really beyond me.

Mind your own business.

Do you realise that, for a little affection,
you are ready to humiliate yourself?

Would you mind your own..

You should reply because, in this case,
you're worth as much as what you're

wearing on your hands,
that little bag...

Come, Vanille. Let's go home.

Come, Vanille. Let's go home.

She is unfuckable.

What? Unfuckable?

Did you see your face? Pervert.

You look like someone who hasn't
fucked since President Mitterand.

Asshole.

Vanille

Let's go home.

Cunt

Good morning.

Read what's written
on the board.

Logos Ethos Pathos.

Are you sure?

Yes

So, you can read.

Give the opponent his own
facts to destabilize him.

Stratagem number 7.

If you can read, you know that
in the rules of the university,

you are required to
dress appropriately.

Alright.

When will you get rid of your
shapeless suburbanite clothing?

It's unbearable.

I thought we were done
with the clothing subject.

Do you want to look like these little
wildlings who set the cars on fire

to celebrate Christmas
and New Year's Day?

Here we are again
with the odors' talk.

If you are not going to wear the burka,
you might as well have nice clothes. Right?

You know what?

I don't like you.

Don't say: I don't like you.

That doesn't any scale or depth. Say:
There is nothing to be liked in you.

Otherwise, that would sound like
a demonstration. It's definitive.

Say: I tried to like you, but
it's impossible in reality.

Look for an emotion. Create
an expectation and deceive it.

It's stronger, isn't it?

Fatima

What did you just call me?

I made a bad joke. I'm sorry.

I will get the hell out.
I'm gonna file a complaint.

No, No. Wait, wait.

Excuse me.

Why are you doing this?

Do what?

These private lessons. Why are you
helping me? I don't understand.

What do you think?

I'm asking.

You know the answer.

No.

Do you have a hypothesis?

No.

Maybe, I have discovered in you
something special, a particular talent,

that you deserve more than
what your appearance suggests.

Voilà.

What do you think? We are not
judged about our appearance,

that the way we present ourselves
to the others is not important?

The costume is the biggest alienation.
It's the enemy of reflexion and language.

You're right. Don't stand out.

Stay within the herd. Your
'panurgisme' keeps you from...

My what?

Panurgisme. Get your phone and
look for the definition right away.

Right away. Here. Now!

Come on.

Masculine noun originating from Panurge,
a character created by Rabelais.

A passive and gregarious behavior.
Synonymous with conformism.

See you tomorrow, same time.

Good evening, Latifa.

It's okay. I'll do it.

I'll do it, grandmother.
Let me do it.

Do it like this.

Not much.

Yes. I know that.

It's okay. I know it.

Voilà. Not much.

Now, you do like this.

The good thing is that we will
have tupperwares for 6 months.

But it's great to eat something that
doesn't come out of a microwave.

Take some.

Is it my turn now?

Now I will hear the usual stuff:

Find yourself a good husband to
help you with the house expenses.

It's not good to be a
single woman at your age.

The neighbors will talk.

Did I say something?

Not yet.

Well, I will say it now.

You see? It's a shame to be
a single woman at your age.

You can marry an old man.
That's not a problem.

No, mom. If you want, we
can find an old man for you.

Your father is enough for me.
I have buried him.

What will the neighbors say?

What neighbors, mom?

These ones, especially Samira.
She has a very big mouth.

She talks too much. All day, she's like
"What's the matter with your daughter?".

I tell her she will marry soon,
we are planning her engagement.

All the girls of the neighborhood are
married. You're the only one left.

There is this dating site.

Dating site?

That's enough, mom.

It's very racist.

Stop.

He calls me Fatima.

So what? Fatima is a cute name.

We can never talk with you.

No, that's true about you
and all your generation.

You complain all the time.

Yes, but grandma complains
all the time, too.

And why is that?

Why?
I'm asking you.

Look at those socks.
That's a shame.

That's enough, grandma. No
one is gonna see my socks.

Is that how I raised you?

Your daughter looks like a hobo.

Mom. I would love to have the
time to knit my daughter's socks

and make her some
very nice dresses

but you can see I
don't have the time.

Did I let you be filthy?

Don't you like your daughter
to look young and beautiful?

Tell me.

Is that how you go to school?
Huh?

You don't even tell her
to pluck her moustache.

What moustache?

Your moustache.

Do you have a moustache?

"I know my lot. One day my
name will be connected with the

"of somethin"?
recollection of somethin...

You have to learn
how to speak first.

Can you articulate a little?

You say these half-words,
we don't understand a thing.

"Somethin'", that's not a word.

"Something". Your turn.

"I know my lot. One day my
name will be connected with the

recollection of
something enormous,

- with a crisis..
- Why are you in such a hurry?

Take your time.

Eloquence is also knowing
how to use the silence.

Your turn.

"the recollection of somethin'..

"Something", dammit.
It's not rocket science.

Is your brain made out of jelly?

No, No. It's not a provocation.
It's an existing French expression

meaning that you
have a soft brain.

Right?

Start over.

Wait.

Put this pen in your mouth,
like this, and articulate.

Go on.

It's okay. That's halal.

That is a provocation.

"I know my lot.

Listen. Don't laugh foolishly.

"One day my name will be..

- Stand up.

Start over.

One day my name will be connected with
the recollection of something enormous..

Stand up straight. Shut up.

But what are you doing?

Be proud of what you are.
Make headway.

The breath is the key.

Start over.

One day my name will be connected with
the recollection of something enormous..

Good. Get up on the table.

Take up some space.
I want to hear you.

I want your voice to resonate in the
hemicycle. I want to understand everything.

Come on.

"I know my lot. One day my
name will be connected with the

recollection of
something enormous,

with a crisis like
never before on earth,

with the deepest
clash of conscience..

No, No. That's not possible.

We will try with this one.

Let's go.

Go where?

I can't.

Imagine that I come
across someone I know.

Come again.

"That I know".

Voilà.

Hey. What's the matter, bro?

Don't you see she looks
like a Saudi princess?

Calm down, pal.

"Friends, Romans, countrymen,
lend me your ears;

I come to bury Caesar..

Louder.

We don't hear a thing.

"Friends, Romans, countrymen..

Friends, Romans.

"Friends, Romans..

countrymen, lend me your ears;

I come to bury Caesar,
not to praise him.

- This lad has completely lost it -
The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred
with their bones;

- So let it be with Caesar. - She's acting like
that guy from the Lord of the Rings, right?

That's right. That's
the Lord of the Rings.

The noble Brutus

Hath told you Caesar
was ambitious:

If it were so, it
was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath
Caesar answer’d it.

It's time to go chase the
dragon, Queen of the Forrest.

Come on. Shut up.

What do you mean, shut up?

What are you looking at?

You disrespect me, cutie.
Is that it?

What are you doing in the metro?
Didn't you see the carriage?

Come with me. I'll get you to
your carriage, my little thing.

Come on. I'm not talking to you.

Is that so? You
have some character.

I like that.

So, using Stratagem
5: False propositions,

you will prove to me that euthanasia
is beneficial to our society.

A mass euthanasia is good
because, as everyone knows,

there is not enough place
on the planet anymore.

Also, there is a lack of
natural resources, so..

ecologically speaking,
it's a very good point.

Euthanasia gives us some carbon.

Besides, economically, um..

In Belgium, for example, where
euthanasia is a well-know practice,

the GDP has reached a quota
of 157% of petrodollar profit,

according to the CAC 40 index,
with a marginal cost of 5.

You have instinctively understood
that it's in your interest

to combine different stratagems.

You have just mixed Stratagem
5: False propositions

with Stratagem 15 that calls
for using absurd arguments.

Let's move to Strategem 6:
Postulate What Has to Be Proved.

Go ahead.

Are you okay?

What do you want?

How is it going?

Mazard is your coach, right?

And you like me, right?

Every time we are
together, you act weird.

No. I just want to wish you good
luck for the first round. That's all.

You too.

After the jury's deliberation,
we have decided to award the win

to Benjamin de Segonzac.

Please. Now is the turn of
Neïla Salah and Jean Proutot.

Can we have some
silence, please?

Miss, Mr, you will now
debate on the subject:

Do clothes make the man?

I remind you that your
time is distributed.

So be clear and precise.

Mr. Proutot, you will begin be explaining
why the clothes don't make the man.

Miss Salah, logically, you will
demonstrate why this proposition is wrong.

Mr. Proutot, it's your turn.

Dear President,

dear jury,

dear public,

As the Ancient Greek would say,

an ape's an ape, though
he be clad in silk.

However, we can see to what
extent our world is full

of these monkeys,

these miserable people who clumsily
try to disguise who they are.

But how can they be blamed when
that is the nature of the world.

The poor want to dress like the rich, in
order to better fit in the mainstream,

but, more surprisingly, the height of
fashion of the rich in the last decades

is to dress like a hobo
from the metro station.

That way, ones buy faux
leather shoes from the Chinese

while the others buy ripped jeans
from Chanel.

But, fortunately, the posture can
never fool us for a long time.

Instinctively, a 5-year-old kid

knows the difference between
a tea towel and a napkin.

Everyone knows, deep within,
how to recognize his own.

It's a question of code. Huh?

Let us take the example of these
terrorists who practice the Taqiya,

this art of concealment.

These impure barbarians who shave their
beards, go drink some champagne in the pub,

sleep with prostitutes, eat some
Hallouf.

Is that how you say it?

They dress up just
like you and me.

So, we don't even
need to debate that.

We all know that clothes
don't make the man.

The miniskirt doesn't make the prostitute,
and the veil doesn't make the saint.

Thank you.

Is this a racial slurs contest?

Calm down, Miss Salah.

What's the matter with you?

Do you think I came
here to be insulted?

Please, Miss. Calm down.

I would ask you to control yourself
if you don't want to be disqualified.

It's your turn, Miss Salah.

Dear president,

dear jury, dear public,

if the clothes don't make the
monk then how do we become a monk?

Moreover, when a
monk takes office,

don't we say that he 'takes the dress'

If the clothes didn't make the monk, that
would mean that we should be born a monk.

However, if you agree with me, we
aren't born a monk. We become a monk.

Nice try quoting
Simone de Beauvoir.

Mr. Proutot. Please.

Miss Salah, continue.

The clothes totally make the monk
and open the doors of the monastery.

In fact, things have a meaning only
when they look like what they mean,

because the way we present ourselves to
the others says much about what we are.

Let me show you that, um..

Clothes make the monk..

Clothes make the monk because, to be a
monk, one should thread his clothes well.

Well said.

Go on, keep showing off.

In conclusion, you that are
standing in front of me,

aren't you wearing the clothes
that make you what you are?

This court dress, doesn't it
urge you more to stand straight?

You have let yourself be
driven by emotions again.

You could have pulled
yourself through.

we have been working for weeks, yet
you're only doing what's on your mind.

He insulted me. You heard him.

Yes. So what?

You have well understood
that this was your chance.

That's why he was disqualified.

You should learn not to take anything
personally, to leave a distance,

to pull yourself away, to forget
what the others will think of you.

If you want to conquer an audience,
the first thing you have to do

is to completely ignore what
it's expecting from you.

Let us resume our practice.

Ah, yes. People.

Friends, Romans, countrymen,
lend me your ears;

I come to bury Caesar,
not to praise him.

Friends, Romans, countrymen,
lend me your ears;

I come to bury Caesar,
not to praise him.

Friends, Romans, countrymen,
lend me your ears;

I come to bury Caesar,

not to praise him.

The evil that men
do lives after them;

The good is oft interred
with their bones;

So let it be with Caesar.

So let it be with Caesar.

Thank you, Madam.

Thank you.

Honestly, what you
did was amazing!

What are you doing?

What?

Who allowed you to do this?

You're sending a picture to you mom.
Is that so?

This phone is truly the
dark side of science.

It's making you all stupid.

You haven't even spared
the phone, right?

Never mind. The phonetic messages, the
little heart emojis, LOLs, LMAOs...

That's really pitiful.

One must keep up with the times.

And didn't cross your mind
that maybe the times are wrong?

Not to mention your social media
bullshit and all these jerks speaking.

We couldn't even hear their voices
before, and now they're all we hear

as if they have
won a Nobel Prize.

Pierre.

Mr. Mazard.

Mr. Mazard, I have
no money with me.

Have a try with stratagem 12: Try to
pity the waiter using all possible means.

That will work for you.

Shit.

Pierre.

Hi, sir. I mean hi again.

Uh, I'm really sorry. I
have a little problem with..

I have billed Mr. Mazard
for that, as always.

I thought that was the
dark side of science.

Well, I won't wait
25 minutes for a taxi

when I can order one in 5 minutes
with this little jewel of technology.

I have even hooked up with a
chick on Facebook with this thing.

Well, we can say anything
and its opposite.

No, I'm not talking
about having convictions.

I am talking about
making argumentation.

Oh, yes. We don't care about the truth.
The only thing that matters is being right.

Ah, perfect. You learned that.

Slowly, but you learned it.
Very good.

Come. I'll get you closer.

- That's okay. I'll..
- No. Come, please.

Hello.

Hello, sir.
Hello, sir.

Excuse me, Sir, Madam. Do
you have a favorite route?

Uh, no.

Okay. Thank you for
your confidence.

You have some candy and water bottles
in the door panel for cooling purposes.

Of course, young man. You
have all our confidence.

Thank you, Ali.

- Bye.
- See you tomorrow. Bye.

Hey, shopping lady.

You all right, Mounir?

It's okay.
What are you doing tonight?

We're having some Greek food.
Do you want to join us?

No, I can't.
I have some work to.

Okay, then go.

What's your problem, Mounir?

Nothing. It's just that you haven't stopped boasting
since you started wearing those high heels.

I am wearing high heels.
Are you serious?

Yes. You have understood
me quite right.

Frankly, I haven't understood.

Ah, yes. I understood.

Understood what?

You don't love me anymore.

What?

I have forgot you, betrayed you.

These studies have
really made me dumb.

That's not at all what I meant.

Of course it is.

I only care about my
contest, my teachers.

Hey, Neïla. We're here.

You all right?
Give me 2 minutes, guys.

Pass me the ball, pal.

Did you notice?

It's disgusting that I
only care about myself.

I'm drinking cream coffees in sidewalk
cafes in Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

The only times I catch up with
you, I blame you for not changing.

Deep down, it's me who's ch..

Stop. That has nothing to do with it.
What are you saying?

That's true. I see it
in your eyes, Mounir.

- You hate me.
- Not at all. I don't hate you.

If you love me,
you would tell me.

You know what. Do me a favor.

Tell me that you don't love me.

Stop. That's not true. Of
course we love you, Neïla.

I know it's hard to say, but admit it.
Tell me that you don't love me.

Of course we love you.

Yeah, we love you.

That's them. They still
have some affection for me.

But you, Mounir, you know me too well.
You see that I've changed.

You don't love me
and you know it.

What are you saying.
Of course I love you.

And I miss you.
And you miss me.

- That's getting embarrassing.
- What?

Did you see how good I am?

Good at what?

It's the 'Anticatastase'
stratagem.

What?

To describe, by irony or by euphemism,
a situation diametrically-opposed

to the real situation.

That's a big stratagem, bro.

You are the stratagem.

Mounir, frankly, she's hitting on you.
Come on, go hard on her.

What are you saying?

You are 8.

And a half, bastard.

Little prick.

Oh no. What a show!

I can't believe it.

They know each either since they were 2.
That's incest what they're doing.

I'm really shocked.

Come on. Let's go.

Mounir.

Come on. Let him French kiss.

Come on.

"And her arm and her leg,
and her thigh and her loins,

Shiny as oil, sinuous as a swan,

Passed in front of my eyes,
clear-sighted and serene ;

And her belly, her
breasts, grapes of my vine,

Advanced, more cajoling
than angels of evil,

To trouble the quiet that
had possessed my soul,

To dislodge her from
the crag of crystal,

Where calm and alone
she had taken her seat."

Do you hear the beauty and
sensuality of this text?

It's far more exciting and vicious
than your Internet and your YouPorn.

Baudelaire was attacked because
of his 'Les Fleurs du mal',

for his offence to public
and religious morals.

We're not talking about
Muhammad cartoons here;

we're talking about poem lines.

At the time, words had a real
expressive force. They were very strong.

You could tear passions
apart, you could strike fear

so much so that writers were
persecuted to censure them,

to muzzle them, to shut them up.

With these Baudelaire's words,
the good morals were offensed.

His trial was justified
by the indignation,

a concept that was unfortunately
demeaned by a senile thinker

and undermined by your sadly
egoistic and passive generation.

Of course,
we feel indignation, sir.

Yes, what's happening
in Syria, for example.

- Climate change.
- Cropped pants, too.

You feel indignation above all about
the discrimination in nightclubs

and because your 25-dollar
carrot ginger soup is lukewarm.

- Stratagem 14: Draw false conclusions
- You don't smoke?

- No.
- Do you breathe deeply?

You like breathing, don't you?

- Yes.
- That means you like CO2, air, nature.

- Yes. - If you like nature, then
you like Africa, large spaces?

- Yes. - If you like large
spaces, then you like elephants.

Yes, yes. So?

So, what is there something
more beautiful that an elephant?

That means you like
beautiful things.

- Yes. - And on top of beautiful things,
we find, for example, I don't know,

women. What's more
beautiful than a women?

You like women, don't you?

Mhm.
So, you are a lesbian.

The preamble to the Constitution of
1946 comprises two categories of norms:

the PFRLR, the Fundamental Principles
Recognized by the Law of the Republic,

and the principles that are
particularly necessary for our time.

- I miss you - The constitutional council,
with a wide margin of appreciation,

consecrated different principles
such as freedom of association..

- I miss you to. - Freedom of education and
conscience, independence of university teachers..

- and respect for the
rights of the defence.

- With double O!! I miss you to. - A distinction
should be made between the PFRLR and others principles

adopted by the
constitutional council

such as constitutional
principles..

- Okay Super French! - that are general principles
of law raised to the constitutional value.

Do you know the
meaning of "Chébran"?

You know, when I was a kid, we used to
inverse the order of syllables in a word.

That's not something new!

A 'beurre'?

That means second-generation immigrants,
the French who haven't found sufficiently

a place in a society that
should have found them one.

You all right?

Yeah, and you?

You're taking it seriously, huh?

You like that, don't you?

Be careful. This doesn't help
with the rumors out there.

What rumors?

That you're doing it.

What?

Are you in your right mind?

That's bullshit.

It's just that I provide him
with a distraction. That's all.

You know, I have
failed last year.

Last year, I was his victim.

You can't imagine what
he made me go through.

Seriously?

He wouldn't let
go of me all year.

Every time, I had to hear his monologues
about my reduced life expectancy

because of my consanguine
genes, about my blue blood..

He even told me once that I was
lucky to be my mother's brother.

He said some nonsense, that I
live in the Palace of Versailles,

- that I blow my nose in the curtains..
- What a bastard!

Alright. See you
tomorrow, Benjamin.

See you tomorrow.

The ultimate
stratagem: The insult.

When you realize that your
opponent is better than you

and beats you with
his reasoning,

you have to get personal by consciously
attacking him, by insulting him.

Go ahead.

Does that mean..

Yes, that's what it means.
Go on.

Really?

I won't say it 20 times.

Are you sure?

You big son of a bitch!

Filthy bastard!

Yeah.

Motherless racist!

You Less-than-a-bastard shit!

Raceless dog!

Eat shit, cursed
race motherfucker!

Okay..

but it's a bit anecdotic.

Be more personal. You
must attack me personally.

You big-nose fuck.

Fat prick.

If you talk when you are this close to me,
it smells like a dead fox in the woods.

If you want.

It's not if I want.

Your lectures, your handouts
and your Halal pencils,

it's not in the mouth
that you'll put them..

Okay. That's enough.

Monday, Lille. Second round.

10:46 a.m., Gare
du Nord station.

Mounir. Mounir.

Mounir, My mom is coming.
Wake up.

That's okay. I can stay,
your mom wouldn't mind.

Move your ass. I said
my mom is coming.

- Fuck.
- Move your ass.

Hurry up.

Take that. Meet me
on the other side.

Come here.

Neïla, I wanted to
tell you something.

Would you like to go out
for dinner some evening?

I mean, if you want,
when you go back home.

But no Kebab this time, though.

A real restaurant, just me and you.
We try something different.

If you would like.

If you 'like'.

Of course I like, since
I'm the one who's asking.

What?

We say 'If you like', not 'If you
would like'. That's not French.

That's all you have to say?

Mounir.

Okay. Bye, Super Frenchwoman.

But, Mounir.. It's just that
it's funny the way you talk.

That's all.
It's funny, huh? Shh!

Mounir, wait.

Fuck. You're dumb. Of course I'd
like to go for dinner with you.

Mounir.

Mounir. Fuck, come back.

You know what? Maybe I say things
wrong, but at least I mean what I say.

Mounir.

Fuck.

Lille, second round.

Miss Neïla Salah,
the floor is yours.

Mr. President, ladies
and gentlemen of the jury,

I swear to say the truth, the whole
truth and nothing but the truth,

even though I lie as
often as I breathe.

Marseille, third round. - If the master
should systematically choose his student,

determine beforehand to whom he would provide
with his enlightenment and his support,

then, ladies and gentlemen, he would
fold into an insupportable fatalism.

Bordeaux, Round of 16. My
truth may not be your truth,

but is every truth worth saying?

Would you have the courage to a
delighted kid on Christmas Eve

that Santa Claus doesn't exist?

Would you have the courage to tell a man in
his deathbed that the paradise doesn't exist?

Does love make one happy?

Miss Salah, you will
defend the Yes position.

Does love make one happy?

Love?

Lyon, quarterfinals -
But what kind of love?

The love of others,

the self love?

And what happiness
are we talking about?

Don't we have an idiom saying ' We
can live on love and water alone'?

Besides, what does
being in love mean?

Roland Barth said that we could measure
our love by what we're waiting for.

Yes.

I am in love because I
am waiting for something.

The other one, the corsair, the
adventurer, the mountaineer never waits.

From climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, he
goes on to roam over the South Seas.

It's unbearable.

So, sometimes, when
we are in love,

we try our hand at impudence:

I will be late; that'll teach my Furious
Fifties' navigation system a lesson.

But, alas, we always lose
at this kind of games.

We never go further
than the beltway.

No matter what we do, we
find ourselves idle, exact,

precise like an
unsophisticated alarm clock

and, sometimes, even
worse, we keep moving.

But, when we understand that
we are loved, we love back.

And when, by the landing stage, we
begin to accept this expectation

of infinite depths, we
accept the dizziness..

Nantes, semifinals. - of losing
control in the port's shallow waters,

then these dreary and
motionless streams

turn into a sweet and soft
place inside which we wait,

confident, invincible, for
the beloved one to return.

And this waiting becomes the most
exquisite and the happiest condition.

And the winner is Neïla Salah.

It's not because you are in the final
that you can go rest as you wish.

We still have to work.

New exercise: fitting
in with your audience.

Pooh!

Good morning, Madam.

Are you alright?

Is life treating you well?
Are you in peace?

Do you like being here?

Is it good?

Madam

Do you play bridge? Do
you have any friends?

Do you have any family?
Kids, maybe?

Do you have a son?

My son, let him
get his ass fucked.

That will do him some good.

Got it, cunt?

Well, you have
just met my mother.

Ah, now I get it.

Of course, I left Nantes
to pursue my studies

and then, time went by
and we can't talk anymore.

You, with all these words
of yours, you can't talk?

Yes. You're right. When we speak well,
sometimes we forget how to say things simply.

Excuse me.

When we speak well, sometimes we
forget how to say things simply.

So, are you sending kisses
and little heart emojis?

You better send some to you mother.
It would do her good.

Who's the lucky guy?

Are you jealous or what?

Why do you think I
introduced you to my mother?

So, who's that?

Mounir.

He's a prince.

He doesn't know yet,
but he's a prince.

He has a heart of gold. His
thinking is like a sword.

He's straight, remarkable,
brilliant, sharp.

He's not afraid of anything.

Thus, with him, I'm
not afraid of anything.

And he makes me
scream with laughter.

Besides, he's handsome as hell.

What does he do for a living?

An uber driver.

- Good evening, Madam. Good evening, Sir.
- Good evening.

Are you happy with our service?

Yes. For me, one 'Demoiselle de
Mecque' and baked great scallop.

But, at the same time, I was
hesitating with

That's what I'll take.

And, as an appetizer,

with cucumber, red caviar
and Wasabi cream, please.

- Thank you, Madam. - Thank you.
And for you, Sir?

The same as her.
Very good.

Are you still mad?

Not even a 'Goodnight, Neïla'?

This is a great day
for our university.

I would then ask you to give
a warm round of applause

to Neïla Salah

who will represent
us in the finals.

As you know, speeches
aren't my cup of tea.

And here is the proof.

I'd like to thank Grégoire
Viviani, our dear president

to have allowed me to represent
Assas until the final.

And it's not easy
for me to admit, but

I have the most
extraordinary of teachers.

God knows that it wasn't
off to a good start.

He made me suffer like
no one can imagine.

But, I would give anything
to have another teacher.

When we speak well, we forget
how to say things simply.

So, I will say it simply.

Thank you, Pierre.

Congratulations.

Well then, how are you
doing with your story?

You pretend to entertain Mazard,
to give him a taste of life.

What are you talking about?

It's okay. I
understood the thing.

What thing?

Your game.

What game?

Mazard's disciplinary council is next
week and you're thanking him here

in front of all of the
university's elite.

Is this a coincidence?

You're his amende honorable.

But it's well played. You become
the star of the university

and he gets to keep his
job and be a big racist

now that he has
made things right.

It's the kind of cynicism that makes
me lose every faith in humanity, but

I have to admit
that I'm impressed.

Ah, here is the wonder girl.

I will never be your
amende honorable.

This conference hall
opened on 5 December 1908.

Final of the public
speaking contest.

Mounir.

I'm sorry, Mounir.

Take me in your arms.

Sorry, I messed up.

You're right. I screwed up.

I gave it all up. I don't care.

You were right
all along, Mounir.

I really lost control.

And I realised that..

I didn't belong there.

You won't answer?

Look up.

Stand straight.

The girl I met doesn't
quit like that.

That's not the one I love.

After everything
you have achieved,

everything you
have gone through,

you quit just like that

because of a mean teacher?

What did you think? That he's
good with us and bad with them?

We are all in this
together, girl.

He took advantage of you? But didn't
you take advantage of him, too?

Answer me, Neïla.

Huh?

Didn't you learn
anything, maybe?

Didn't you give anything?

Didn't he make you
a better person?

It's too late, Mounir.

No, it's not too late.

Who allowed you?

I allowed myself.

I allowed myself especially
that it seems to me

that you are gathered
today to discuss something

that concerns me more
than anyone else.

Are you talking about stories of 'Carte
Orange', stool and Abdulrahman, right?

You have all gathered here today to
discuss the alleged obscenity and violence

of the word 'Stool',
for example.

I believe I get a say in this.

Say what you have to say, Miss.

Thank you.

I have come to
confirm to you that

you have, in front of you, the
most despicable being ever created.

Thank you, Miss Salah, but it
seems to me let her talk, Grégoire.

Take a seat and sit down, Miss.

Pierre Mazard is a cynical man,

in the coldest and
most deplorable sense.

He doesn't believe in anything,
and certainly not in himself.

He hates the current era. He
doesn't respect anything and anyone,

and even less any
form of institution.

So certainly, he gave me his
confidence and all this patience but,

he's first of all an ambitious
man who doesn't hesitate

to accommodate himself with some little
side arrangements to serve his career.

Pierre Mazard is cynical, then.

It doesn't matter if he showed me
an intelligence and a generosity

that I never thought to
doubt in the teaching staff.

It doesn't matter if he is the
embodiment of dedication and passion.

It doesn't matter if I hope
that every student in the world

to cross paths with
someone like him.

And not even to mention

the fact that, with him,

everything is within the
bounds of possibility,

that a little suburbanite having a
hard time channeling her emotions

could represent Assas in the final
of the public speaking contest,

less than a year after
crossing paths with him.

Because, ultimately, what
he will remembered for

is the mediocrity and the vulgarity
of his rant in the lecture hall.

We will remember the stools.

I would have liked to tell you that
I have also remember a TV artist,

a muckraker, a grouch, a man full
more of paradoxes than prejudice

who made me suffer like hell,

who gave the greatest weapons of
peace without ever judging me,

thanks to whom I will face the bullets
without ever ceasing to be soft.

And I only remember the
man who only has words,

a lot of words,

these words that have
made his heart dead

and suppressed the last
residues of his humanity.

And what word? Stool.

So, go ahead.

Let us pillory him to let the students
dance on his still-fuming ember.

But, thanks to his
education, I know my destiny.

I know that, one day, my name
will be connected with the

recollection of
something enormous.

That's what Pierre
Mazard has given me.

To me, Neïla Salah,
who lives in Créteil,

born on July 13, 1987, daughter of
Bouziane Salah and Khadija Salah.

These attachments
are not pardonable;

one must be crazy to
forgive him for all this.

Thank you for your attention.

Excuse me.

Neïla.

Neïla.

I wanted to tell you that, to quote
the great lawyer in the making,

"In life, we must know
how to say things simply."

So thank you.

Thank you Neïla.

Did you mean what
you have just said?

Since when the problem
is meaning what we say?

What matters isn't the truth,
but instead to convince.

Filthy bitch!

Motherless racist!

You bastard!

No, you less-than-a-bastard!

Eat shit, you and
your whore mother!

Eat shit, cursed
race motherfucker.

That's it.

Raceless dog.

Bloody desert jackal..

who dies down a well.

Old dog.

Please excuse me. I was only
told at the last minute.

I am horribly late.

No, you're just horrible.

What are you looking
at me like that?

Well, you should know that I didn't want
a female. I wanted a man with big balls.

You will only do shit,

with you whore tie.
Shut the fuck up.

Watch your tone.

I think you forgot that
you're here to serve me.

You shut the fuck up now,
and take your hat off.

I'll do that if my mom
were the queen of whores.

You are the whore.
Take your hat off.

It's good? Am I cute now?

I'm telling you, there's
nothing to do here.

I am the victim of a judicial error.
That's all.

Sorry, I don't understand.
Articulate clearly.

I am the victim of a
judicial error, Madam.

- Master.
- What?

You call me Master.

Do you think I am
your slave or what?

Who do you think you are,
patronizing me from the beginning

with your old haircut
playing the Frenchwoman.

I am a Frenchwoman.

Me too, I am French.

Well, a mini-market
robbery, reoffence.

Were there any witnesses?

Your little buddies
have snitched on you.

I know. Yes, that's right. You
might get your ass kicked hard.

So, from now on, either you listen to me
and you can get away on a technicality

or you keep acting like a
wise guy and you get 10 years.

You'll have to stand there.

The judge doesn't
like guys like you.

With these sweatpants,
you'll lose the case.

Stand up.

On your feet!

"Judge, ladies and gentlemen
from the jury "Say it.

"Judge, ladies and
gentlemen from the jury"

Judge.

"Judge"

Stand up straight.

Shame on you. Not like this.

It's your stupidity that's shameful.
I'm telling you to stand up straight.

"Judge, ladies and
gentlemen from the jury"

"Judge, ladies and
gentlemen from the jury"

Pull your hands out
of your pockets.

Pull your hands out
of your pockets.

Stand up straight.

We start over.