All language subtitles for Lost In New York1989.eng

LOST IN NEW YORK

I cannot see very well
these days.

My eyes are worn out.

Only my hands can see anything.

I still do not know
if she has her eyes open,

half-closed, slit.

She is worn by time, too.

Chipped,

like the white paint of a very old horse
on this merry-go-round.

Apainted merry-go-round,
every horse alike, all white,

they go round.

They are given an open mouth.

This merry-go-round is a cheap one,

without illuminations,

without a coloured wheel,
without fairy lights.

Without a coloured wheel,
without fairy lights.

It goes round, making music,

and the children go round on it.

Without seeing their motionless mount
call for help with all their might

from the mute mouth
of a merry-go-round horse.

She's a crucified goddess,
with open arms.

She locks at me.

I would love to see the little girl
she once was.

The little girl from the coal region
in Northern France.

The magic little girl,

who would travel through time.

Let me remember.

It was a holiday, I think.

A Sunday.

The merry-go-round was going round,

and I was on my way to the old church.

In the presbytery garden,
was the magic little girl.

She was waiting for me.

She was crying.

Why are you crying?

Because no-one will play with me.

Ill play with you.
What's your name?

Marie. You're Michele, right?

How do you know?

The Moon Goddess knows everything.

She's magic.

Will you lend it to me?

It does look like the moon,
it's round.

Is it really the Moon Goddess?

Would you like to go on a journey
with the Moon Goddess?

Alright.

Come on, follow me.

- Do you want to get in the book?
- How?

Look.

The Moon Goddess was taking us
inside the album,

open on our knees.

The book was becoming a theatre screen.

4 screen for dreams.

We were on a journey,

where you can only go
through the mirror.

This is where the young girls from
Picnic at Hanging Rock disappeared,

where Errol Flynn takes Micheline Presle
in The Adventures of Captain Fabian.

You can see the boat which takes
Stewart Granger away from Moonfleet.

We were heading through the roofs

to the place where the rebel kids
in Zero for Conduct go,

where the doves in Eyes Without a Face
guide Edith Scob,

where the lovers in Dark Passage dance
at the end of the road

that takes Chaplin and Paulette Goddard
away from Modern Times.

We were the young girl
with a white parasol

of whom Everett Sloane only catches
a glimpse in Citizen Kane.

We were every little girl
in the picture of Deadly Run.

The odd flower that grows where
Jennifer Jones and Gregory Peck died

in Duel in the Sun.

We were inside the music box
of "The Living Dead Girl,

on the disused viaduct

where the brainless lovers
in La Nuit des traquées wander,

hidden in the clock
of The Shiver of the Vampires,

which opens
at the stroke of midnight,

behind the theatre curtain
of The Naked Vampire.

Beyond the bars she lives in,
she is looking at us,

this little Asian girl
in The Sidewalks of Bangkok.

We are waltzing
on the drawbridge

with the 1,900 girls in Fascination.

Heroines of every soap opera,
every serial, of every episode,

we were in search of the island
of King Kong,

which hides away
The Phantom of the Opera.

Balaoo,
Mysterious Doctor Satan,

the Queen of jungles,

Monsieur Lange and Arizona Jim,

Rocambole and Sir Williams.

And where do you want to go now?

If we were grown-ups,
we'd go for a walk.

On the beach, yes.

And we'd find the Moon Goddess.

She'd take us away.

Where would she take us?
Where?

She would take us to New York.

She can probably do that.

Can you see the skyscrapers?
Brooklyn Bridge? And Chinatown?

Look! I can see it.

Maybe you're a little fairy, too.

- How old are we?
- We're old. 23, at least.

Are we walking along the beach?

On the seafront.

Can you see over there?
Under the cliff.

It's like a shingle beach.
Can you hear the seagulls?

Yes, I can hear the seagulls.

And can you see the cliff, too?

Yes, I can.

I don't know how to live,
without her, without Marie.

I cannot remember.

Suddenly, it was like magic.

We were on the pictures.

We were playing
every character ourselves.

We were the book.

We were the travel magazine,

we were the adventures,
adventures of the sea and earth.

Where is reality?

Where is the dream?

There was a cliff, I think.
And the sea.

The seagulls were loud.

Avery odd ballet
is going to take place,

throwing the sceneries
against each other,

mixing ages, places, characters,

under the impassive gaze
of a magician

who makes statuettes appear
at the door of the mystery.

Earlier,

or later maybe,

or even right now, actually,

the two little girls
dive into the book

and emerge
as charming young girls,

who dream of New York's skyscrapers
and Brooklyn Bridge.

Suddenly,
they find themselves in a strange world,

their fantasy world has become reality.

The thud of the sea, the noise
of the pebbles moved by the waves,

the cry of the seagulls,

it's all in their head
as they discover New York's buildings,

the New York streets,
the New York crowd,

the incredible roar of New York.

But the magic in them, which can abolish
time and space, separates them.

In New York City, this ghost city,
in a present which is not the real one,

Marie and Michéle
tun towards each other,

entering deeper into the mysteries
of New York's streets,

buildings and blocks.

The Chinatown of Lys Brisé,

where you can still feel
the shadow of Dr Fu Manchu or Red Barry,

closes on her.

Suddenly, a strange silhouette
follows her footsteps.

They must run, escape this city,
as it grabs at them

like hands preventing their retreat.

Marie and Michéle,

maybe you never ceased to be
little girls reading a book.

Maybe your masked spirits
still linger on this beach.

Or maybe you're running
all over New York

desperately hoping to find each other.

With the parting of the day
comes the hour of magic.

The most beautiful appearance,
more sumptuous than the black night,

is of the white woman vampire
who will haunt the New York night.

It is a dream within a dream.

The same dream, at the same time,
for Marie and Michéle.

In Marie's dream, a red rose appears.

In Michéle's dream,
it is a white rose.

Fantasies die at dawn.

In the loneliness of New York,
Marie and Michéle desire each other.

Above the city, their spirits
search for one another.

Remember the two little girls.

The Moon Goddess
takes them to New York,

to Rome, to Tokyo.

Everywhere.

And in these cities of dreams, two
little magic girls play hide-and-seek.

Slip inside my head. Listen.

I can hear the sea.
I can hear the seagulls.

Carry on searching. Take a look.
Take a look inside my head.

I can see the birds
and the waves.

I can see and hear with your head,
your eyes, your mind.

I can feel with your body.
lam you.

Now it's my turn
to come inside your head.

With your eyes,
I see New York's buildings,

on the other side of the river.

And you are surrounded
by the current.

I can see your journeys
when you're looking for me,

your race in time and space,

in every city, every country.

I'm reeling with your boat.

New York approaches.
Listen to the wail of the city's sirens.

I exist in New York, somehow.

I will always be hiding
in a corner of your mind

so you can find me.

Every time you close your eyes,
I will be there.

On your closed eyes,
imprinted on your retina.

Magical objects only work once.

Where are you, Marie?

Why am I the only one to return
from our journey?

Since then, my masked spirit
roams the beach,

and on the footbridge
above the grain silo,

and in the presbytery garden
in the old church,

where we were little magic girls,

enchanted young girls.

The scenery is empty.

The actors went God knows where.

And I am alone,

the only proof of our journeys,
this statuette of our Moon Goddess.

Pathetic piece of wood!

I'm waiting.

I'll wait until maybe one day,

another magician
gives me another goddess,

0 our journey can resume,
Michéle and Marie's journey.

Marie...

it's you who's calling to me.

This is your sign to me.

Wait for me! I'm coming.

I'm coming.

- Marie.
Yes, Michele?

My eyes are here.

Is the tide coming in?

It is moving over there,

it's threading its way through,
crawling.

It will be here soon.

Marie?

Will we have time?

The time to be
magical little girls again?

Can you remember?

It was windy, I think.

There was a white light.
So white.

It might have been summer.

It wasn't.
It was the same moment as today.

An autumnal moment
when the tide comes in.

Michele is a little gin
from the north of France.

She grew up in the coal region,
where the bricks are red.

Marie is a little country girl.

Clay and the start of autumn,
the frozen winter ground.

In the grain silo, she is dreaming.

In front of the pictures
in the travel magazine.

She dreams that they have grown.

On the beach, they pick up
a magical statuette

which takes them away,
captures them, makes them travel.

Along crossing.

Michéle, it is time.

The time has come?

Yes, it has.

The tide is nearly in...

. $0 let's carry on with our journey.

- Shall we go on our journey again?
- Yes, forever. We'll never return.

Where are we going?

Look! The cliff has split.

It looks like a mouth now.

The path that Michéle and Marie enter
is forever sealed.

You only go there once,
never to return.