All language subtitles for The.Barbarian.Invasions.2003.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

to my daughter MingXia

London, 2:30 p.m.

- Hi, Mom.
- Hi, dear.

I have bad news.

Montreal, 9:30 a.m.
Your dad's prognosis isn't good.

You have to come.

Did he ask you to call?

Not in so many words.

We saw each other
for 15 minutes last summer.

We had nothing to say.

With his flat, bank account,
insurance, the university…

Your sister's in Australia.
It's too much for me.

I'll see if Gaëlle can come.

London, 2:35 p.m.

Hi, love.

He's worse?
- I have to be there.

I'll come.

You don't have to come.

I've warned you
you'll never get rid of me.

- Do you hear me complaining?
- You better not.

Seeing it's Monday morning,
I'll give you five minutes to get them.

We're now starting the aerobics,
so get moving.

We'll start with jogging
on the spot.

Because I loved you.

You'll never understand that.

Women aren't afraid to love.

We commit ourselves.

We don't forever lie
and shun responsibility!

I wasted four years of my life
waiting for you!

The best years of my life!

Good luck finding another woman like me!

Careful. He's very ill.

I don't care!
We're talking about my life here!

And what do I have to show for it?
Nothing!

If at least you'd pleasured me.

Because I've got news for you, darling.
You're not equipped to pleasure anyone!

I don't want to bruise your ego,
but I've had better.

My performance in bed with you
was Oscar-worthy!

But you never doubted it, did you?
No, never.

Never, never, never!

- Ow.
- Oh, no you don't!

That's too easy.

Cheating on me for four years
with Sylviane Dupuis, Ginette Mongrain,

Mireille Tétrault!

That woman weighs a ton!

Ginette Mongrain?

Yes! You don't remember
your own mistresses?

You've had too many.
- Ginette Mongrain…

Ginette Mongrain.
The string bean from Olivieri's.

- I never slept with her.
- She told me herself.

At least have the guts to admit it!

- She told you that?
- Damn right.

I swear…

I don't remember.

THE BARBARIAN INVASIONS

The body of Christ.

Amen.

Have a good day.

The body of Christ.

The communion's over here.

The body of Christ.

Amen.

On the way back, perhaps?

And there you have it!

What a comeback!

How's Mr. Desmarais?

I don't know.
I'm not Mr. Desmarais.

Sorry, the computer system
is a mess.

Constance Lazure.

My wife, Louise.

Must be hard having him here.

I threw him out 15 years ago.

So whether he's here
or humping co-eds in his condo…

Gimme a break.
You know it's been years

since I humped a co-ed.

And Raphaëlle Metellus?

She was Dominique's student,
not mine.

You were her personal tutor?
"Kneel down, open wide.

Careful, don't bite!"

I'd best continue my rounds.
Have a good day!

You too, Sister.

Goodbye!

I called Sébastien
to let him know.

- You did?
- He's coming.

I see.

Aren't you glad?

Lovely, we can play
his video games.

He's still young.

OK, but couldn't he have read
one book in his life?

Any book?
Is that asking too much?

He may not read, but he earns
more in a month than you in a year.

Thanks a lot.

That's OK, we had room.

It's flying to Belfast Monday…

I'll probably
have to stay longer.

- The British Museum?
- No, it's in the National Gallery.

In the basement.
- The Trafalgar Square Museum, right?

Yes, exactly.

My darling!

You must be exhausted.
What time is it for you?

2 a.m.?

Gaëlle, how are you, dear?

Fine, thank you.

Hello, sir.

Young man.

You remember Gaëlle?

Gaëlle is unforgettable.

Hello, sir.

How are you?

No private rooms?

I'm lucky I'm not in the hall.

I tried,
all I got was voice mail.

What's going on over here?

I guess you're fixing the wiring.

What the…?

Hey, hey, hey.

There must be private rooms
available?

Private rooms were abolished
40 years ago.

What do you mean, abolished?

Excuse me.
My TV's on the fritz.

There's nothing I can do, sir.

Maybe so, but my shows are on
in two minutes.

The TVs are managed
by a private company. Call tomorrow.

What? Tomorrow!
What am I supposed to do tonight?

I don't know, sir!

Not here. Look over there.

- Do you know anything about TVs?
- No.

There was something else
I wanted to ask you.

I've been on duty for 12 hours
without a break.

I'm doing three people's work.
So go bother someone else.

Madam. Madam?

Can I see
my father's medical chart?

Later. I'm too busy right now.
Later.

I managed to find his chart.
I'll scan it for you upstairs.

I can't look at it right now,
old buddy, 'cause I'm at a ball.

Yes, my friend, the Baltimore
Museum of Art's annual ball.

Worse yet, I think Allison
will make me dance.

I'll look at it first thing tomorrow
and call you back, OK?

"Dad's very sick.
Please get in touch."

"Message sent to
sylvaineatsea@hotmail.com"

It's a cable problem.
There's no signal, sir.

Oh. Then fix the cable.

I can't touch the cable, sir.

Why not?

We just handle the TVs.
Videotron handles cable.

You have to call them.

They'll never come,
they're practically bankrupt.

File a complaint.

- Who with?
- I don't know. The head office.

The head office?
Where's that?

Hey, I don't have time for that!

I have a life, you know!

Television is a right!

I loved you so.

I don't understand, Rémy.

I don't understand
your fear of commitment.

But I don't blame you.

You were always afraid
of responsibility.

That's just the way you were.
I never wanted to change you.

Three years is a long time to wait,
you know.

The best years of my life.

What I see isn't encouraging.

But to be sure
I need a PET scan.

See if they can do it.
They can send it by satellite.

The saddest part is…

that I always remained,

how should I put it,

sexually unfulfilled.

I'm not trying
to make you feel guilty.

Positron Emission Tomography.

Sherbrooke has one,
but there's a 6-to-12-month waiting list.

Don't even try.

Isn't he going to Burlington today?
- Yes.

They have one, but it's expensive.
$2,000 U.S.

Cash or plastic.
- Money's no problem.

You're lucky.

Yeah.

You never listened to my body.

But I'm not laying a guilt…

Look, I have to get dressed.

Stop running away!

An ambulance is taking me
to Burlington in 10 minutes.

No more excuses!

- For my radiation therapy.
- No!

The machines here are too old.

Stop avoiding me,
it's too painful.

This is my son, Sébastien,
he's going with me.

She's…

a woman I used to know,
long ago.

I couldn't face coming alone.

You've never been here?

Never.

But you see each other
regularly.

Always on neutral ground.

Usually in restaurants.

Did he come to your place?

Occasionally.

But you never came here.

No. This was where
he brought his mistresses.

With luck,
we'll find some panties.

I'm glad Sébastien's
going with him today.

It's important they talk.

Rémy left 15 years ago.

Back then, I was sure
I'd find someone else soon.

I gave myself a year, two, max.

I was still young, and fairly cute.

But I never found anyone.

I've bedded a few men —
that's not so hard to find —

but they were already married,

or had problems.

Or they were just plain dirty.

A lot of men don't bathe,
you know.

Yes, I know.

You know the proverb,

"Christmas in the scanner,
Easter six feet under."

Hello?

I have the scan.

It doesn't look good.
Not good at all.

We can't be certain,

but the margin of error…

It's almost nil.

Is he in a lot of pain?

Why don't you bring him here?

We don't perform miracles,
but he won't suffer. We'll make sure.

I'm sorry, buddy.

Baltimore's not far.

Seven hours by car,
an hour by plane.

I won't go into exile.

No goddamn way.

Wouldn't you like your own room,
chairs for visitors,

a bathroom, CDs?

What CDs?

So you can listen to music.

They have that
in civilized countries.

Know what that costs?

- Nothing. I'll look after it.
- I won't know a soul.

We'll all go tomorrow.

No, we won't.
I'm not going to the States,

to be murdered
by rabid Mohammedans.

He's crazy.

I voted for Medicare,
I'll accept the consequences.

Only idiots refuse to change.

I want to be with my friends.

Your friends? Where are they?

- Dominique's away, but Pierre—
- You've no one.

Aside from that lunatic
this morning.

- Which lunatic?
- It's irrelevant.

The tears, rolling eyes:
"My Rémy!"

- Who's he talking about?
- Marlène Dupire.

You didn't sleep
with Marlène Dupire?

She's a certified nut,
everyone knows!

You wrecked your family
for her kind?

I wrecked nothing.

You ruined mom's life,
my adolescence, Sylvaine's…

Blaming me for her failure?

She loves the sea, she sails the world,
delivering yachts.

Beats a third-rate university
in some backwater province.

You may be a millionaire,
but you know nothing!

I know I won't end up like you!

She's the reason I'm here.

She raised me, not you!

I'm here for her, not you!

Don't you have a plane
to catch to Hong Kong?

I don't need you,

not for one second!
Go to hell!

Fuck you!

Go to hell!

Fuck!

We're returning to London.

You can't!

We offer him the finest hospital,
he refuses.

You heard him.
He'll never change.

Plan to have kids?

Definitely.

Until you're a parent,
you'll never understand.

He changed your diapers.

He called your teachers
every month all through school.

You never knew that.

He so wanted you to do well.

When you had meningitis
at age three,

he rocked you in his arms
for 48 hours non-stop, without sleep,

to keep death at bay.

You can't remember that.

What should I do?

Find his friends.
Find him a comfortable room.

That shouldn't be hard.

The Ministry
forbids changing hospitals.

Anyway, they'd park him
in a hall in Emergency.

- The floor below is empty.
- Two years, now.

Could he move there?

Ice cream with your pie?

You can always ask
at Administration. Good luck!

Thanks.

I'll leave you now.

You're lucky
to have such a caring son.

You think so?

Look around! See many children
at their parent's bedside?

I'm here every day, so I know.

They never stay long.

I never see mine.

And your dad?

Was he hospitalized?

- At the end.
- Did you visit?

He lived in Chicoutimi,
I was in Montreal.

You came from England?

London, Chicoutimi, for you…

same thing?
Are you becoming confused?

When it's over, press End.
That stops it.

It's hard, but if you concentrate,
you'll manage.

Hi, Dad!

See, the Pacific Ocean.

We sail from Sydney
to New Caledonia,

on to Easter Island
and finally Valparaiso.

I'm sending you lots of sea air.

They say it's good for your health.

I have to go.
Satellite connections cost a fortune.

I'm sending lots and lots of kisses.

Bye for now!

Hi, Dad!

See, that's the Pacific—

Badge?

Security badge?

Ms. Pelletier?
Lloyd's of London.

Didn't they give you one?

- No.
- This is Administration.

Last door on the right.
But next time you need a badge.

Hello.

Pauline Joncas-Pelletier.

Please have a seat.

So you're with Lloyd's of London?

Not at all,
I said that to get in.

My father's here.
I'd like to move him to the empty floor.

Set up something
more comfortable.

That's wonderful!

It complies with our awareness
programs involving family members.

But unfortunately
our allocation of infrastructure

is determined by the Ministry's
ambulatory thrust.

It is absolutely impossible

to target our responses
in terms of individual beneficiaries.

I'm sure our staff—

I prepared this file.

You must understand,

our resource allocation
aims at prioritizing

responses according
to diagnostic parameters

defined by the Region 02
consultations.

This is silly.
We're not in the Third World.

Think it over.

Even if we close our eyes,

we'd require union integration.

And that is problematic!

I'll handle them.

This file will be updated weekly.

I'll come back tomorrow.
Thank you!

There's a room
on the empty floor.

It'll take 5 minutes.
I just want to show you.

I'll be back in 5.

Sorry, take the next one.

Here.

I want to set up a room
on this floor. We could—

Look, nothing happens
without the union.

It starts and ends with the union.
Understand?

I came to you, right?

You'd have to paint it,
scrub the floor…

clean up.
- Just a sec, man.

You're talking overtime,
you realize.

And my guys don't—
- Paid in cash.

Cash?

Cash. One painter.

Two.

Six hours.

Eight.

What's the rate?

$40.

$35.

I want a bed, curtains, chairs—

Look, man, we don't do that.

You hire a crew,
supervise the work.

And charge me a reasonable fee.

Reasonable?

Let's say 25%.

Here's $2,500 for starters.

We'll settle up every two days.

- What's wrong?
- Where's my laptop?

- What?
- My computer.

- On the floor.
- It's not there.

- It must be.
- Nothing there.

The floor, not the locker.

I'm not crazy.
- It's not there.

Someone must have taken it.

- Who?
- I don't know.

I've had 50 e-mails.
How'll I recover them?

My entire deal with Norway.
There's no backup.

Do you know what I do?
- No.

- You should.
- You never told me.

Why bother? You never listen!

There were, what, 3,000 dead?

Historically,
that's insignificant.

As a U.S. example,

50,000 died
at the Battle of Gettysburg.

What is significant,
as my old teachers said,

is they struck
at the heart of the Empire.

In previous conflicts — Korea,

Vietnam, the Gulf War —

the Empire managed
to keep the barbarians

outside its gates, its borders.

In that sense,

people may look back on 9/11,
and I stress may,

as the beginning
of the great barbarian invasions.

Alain Lussier, thank you.

My pleasure.

Excuse me,
my computer was just stolen.

Oh yeah?

Fill out this form.

What for?

It's for the police.

Look, I've had all these
since Monday.

The police ever investigate?

No, only when
there's physical violence.

Last week a woman was raped
in the old laundry room, so they came.

Otherwise, they'd be here 24/7.

It's easy to rob patients.
They're asleep half the time.

And the union
protects the employees.

There's not much we can do.

Ronald?

Excuse me.

What can I do for you, pal?

I lost or misplaced
my computer.

Maybe in my dad's room.

So, on the off-chance
someone should find

a laptop somewhere…

We'll ask around,
but I can't guarantee anything.

In case.

Right, in case. We'll check.

Thanks, I appreciate it.

My pleasure.

Yes, speaking.

Of course I remember you,
Sébastien.

How are you?

Yes, it's been a long time.

He's very sick.

And he's all alone,
except for my mother.

I knew he was in hospital,
but I didn't realize…

I almost never come
to Montreal, so…

Is he still in hospital?

Pierre, I need you, now.

School's starting, we haven't found
a daycare, the kids are sick…

That's life. Always the same.

Yes. Yes—

I'll try to get a flight.

You say that
because times are so terrible.

Not especially terrible.
Not at all.

Contrary to belief,
the 20th century wasn't that bloody.

It's agreed that wars
caused 100 million deaths.

Add 10 million
for the Russian gulags.

The Chinese camps,
we'll never know, but say 20 million.

So 130, 135 million dead.
Not all that impressive.

In the 16th century,
the Spanish and Portuguese managed,

without gas chambers or bombs,

to slaughter 150 million Indians
in Latin America.

With axes!
That's a lot of work, Sister.

Even if they had Church support,
it was an achievement.

So much so that the Dutch,
English, French and later Americans

followed their lead
and butchered another 50 million.

200 million dead in all!

The greatest massacre in history
took place right here.

And not the tiniest
Holocaust museum.

The history of mankind
is a history of horrors!

They had a trial program with heroin.

See if it still exists.

Heroin's 800% more effective
than morphine.

It makes a huge difference.

OK, thanks.

Get some rest.

I will. Good night.

- When did they move you?
- This morning.

It's wonderful.

And that's not all. Sébastien's
putting in a kitchenette.

- What a prince.
- That's it, complain.

- Hello, Sister.
- Look at this!

Are you pals with the Premier,
or a hockey star?

- His son takes care of him.
- I know.

And Dumbo won't thank him.

My son is an ambitious
and puritanical capitalist.

Whereas I was always
a sensual socialist.

Sensual isn't half of it, Sister.

- Lewd! Bestial!
- Debauched! Lascivious!

Perverse!

How are you, you lusty sinner?

Better!

Ah…
- Give me a kiss, you randy snake!

- You're back?
- Yesterday.

And Alaska?

Lovely and cold, like me!

You see, Sister?
My exquisite daughter-in-law,

my heroic wife,
and two most charming mistresses.

I can die in peace.

You'll burn
in the flames of hell.

And I won't be alone.

They're safe,
but given the depravity of these two,

they'll roast alongside me.

Whereas you'll play the harp
on a cloud

for eternity, seated between
John Paul II, a surly Pole,

and Mother Teresa,
a slimy Albanian.

His illness has affected his brain.

No, it's an ethnological truth,
Louise.

Albanians are often slimy
and Poles are always surly.

"For the misfortunes of Poland…"

… are proof of God's existence!"

Hello.

I'd like to meet someone,

a police officer or detective
on the narcotics squad.

Have a seat.

I don't believe it!

Come stai, you big pig?

What are you doing here,
old queer?

This is Alessandro.

We've heard all about you.

Hello.

Gilles Levac.
My partner, Kim Delgado.

A pleasure.

This way.

Have a seat.

Thanks.

My father's hospitalized here
in Montreal.

He gets rotten care, of course,
and he's in pain.

A doctor friend suggested
I get him some heroin.

I know little about drugs.

As a student I smoked pot.

Drugs are sold in every city,
and the police know where.

I hoped, perhaps naively,
you could recommend

some spots where I can find
high-quality heroin.

That's fascinating,
except that…

our job is to arrest dealers,

not help prospective buyers.

Think of me as a smart guy
trying to save time.

Think of me as someone
not too dumb

who doesn't want
to read a headline:

"Police Help Our Journalist
to Buy Narcotics."

I'm no—

She and I don't want to end our days
directing traffic in Chibougamau.

I swear I'm not a reporter.

Why should I believe you?

I'm a market operator
with MacDougall Deutsch.

It's easy to check.

It's easy to print phoney cards.

Sorry to disturb you.

Madame.

I'll have to try the discos.
Or go straight to the bikers.

You wouldn't have their number,
by any chance?

No?

We're not staying long, all right?
We have to get to Costco's by 6:00,

and Mom's expecting us at 5:30.
- Yes, all right.

- I don't want to be the heavy.
- No, no.

Look, the Citrouillard family!

Claude, I don't believe it!
How are you?

FYI, bikers are boneheads

who sell bonehead drugs
to other boneheads.

They don't touch heroin.

Heroin used to be for the rich.

Now prices have dropped,
and that's changed.

But traditionally
it's the drug of musicians,

and poets…

You mean, ask my friends?

I don't mean anything.

I'm repeating rumours
circulated in the media.

What exactly do you do?

My dear, I'm the director

of the Canadian University
Institute of Rome.

Oh. Hmm.

What exactly does it do,

the Canadian Cultural Centre of Rome?

In fact, we're a leading cultural agency

that assists Canadian
university students in Rome.

And how many Canadian
university students are there in Rome?

In fact, a few.

Why do you ask?
- Well…

To know how our taxes
are being squandered.

We're a very modest operation.

Naturally the director
requires paid housing…

… where you're always welcome,
of course.

You haven't been hit by cutbacks?

- Quite impossible.
- Ah.

The Institute is buried

in the budgetary quagmire
of Foreign Affairs.

The Minister himself
has no inkling we exist.

Who should I have slept with
to get that job?

I'm afraid that the people I slept with

would've been blind to your charms,

however abundant they are.

Abundance has its fans, dearie.

Not in Foreign Affairs.

This it?

Someone found it somewhere?

That's it.

I have to get heroin for him.

I need someone with contacts.

I've been away too long.

The only powder I sniff now
is Baby's Own.

I could try to ask my daughter.
Remember Nathalie?

Yes, a little.

I can't promise.
I rarely hear from her.

Hi, sweetheart.
It's mom. It's Diane.

I miss you, sweetheart.

Look,

remember Sébastien, Rémy's son?

You often played together as kids.

He wants to meet.

He needs some information.

So call whenever you like,
at any time.

If you prefer not to talk to me,
I'll leave you his number.

We have to hit Costco before 6:00.
We need a shitload of diapers.

Children cost so much.
Why do people

in the Third World have so many?
- What a dumb thing to say.

Your poor students,
if you teach such crap!

Did you get that book
I mentioned?

Which one?

"Inner Healing"
by Swami Rapudanthra.

No, unfortunately not.

I'll bring it.
Your body's in your head.

Illness starts and ends in the head.

I keep telling Pierre that.

It's certainly possible.

Well, we'll be going.

- See you soon.
- Bye.

Bye.

How old is she?

It's not about age.
Her breasts outweigh her brain.

- Cut it out.
- It's true!

The quantity of blood they require

drains the brain.
It's physiological.

No wisecracks.

She's given me two girls
who've transformed my life.

And a mere brush of her hand
makes me as hard as a bull.

Which you'll agree
is a godsend at our age.

Nathalie?

I didn't recognize you.

Come.

Thank you.

Do you work full-time?

What do you do?

Proofreader.

For a publishing company?

Boreal Press.

So your hours are flexible.

My proposal is that
I pay for your supplies,

as well as my father's,

plus a fee for your time.

Want brown or white?

I've no idea.

To smoke or shoot up?

I trust you.

You shouldn't.

Why not?

You should never trust a junkie.

They make a habit of lying.

It's right there.

How much?

$500.

Thanks.

Hi.
- Hi.

It's pretty chilly, huh?

That girl's innocent.

My dad knows her mom.
She's doing me a favour.

Arrest me, but forget her.

Arrest you?

- Think I'm a fool?
- Not at all.

You located Olivier in two days.
Nice going.

- Olivier?
- Yeah. The dealer.

Why not arrest him?

Want me to arrest everyone?

Look at that!

Recognize him?
- Who's he?

Michel Richer, the biologist.

You never bust suppliers?

All the time.

We work two, three years,
bust an Iranian gang.

Everyone's happy.

And Iraqis take their place.

Or the Lebanese, Turks, Italians.

There's too much demand.

It's an invasion.

What are you doing here?

I mean, now?

My job.

I see.

Keeping the peace.

The fish are biting
in Zampino's pond.

Time to go fishing.

What did you study?

Why do you ask?

Curious.

Criminology, minor in psych.

You?

Mathematics, minor in economics.

Take care.

You, too.

You don't remember me?

- No.
- I was close to your mom.

You mean you slept with her?

Not just that.

Were you married?

Yes.

The married ones
never stayed till morning.

I'd see them
if I woke up at night.

From a child's perspective,
it must seem sordid.

We called it…

sexual liberation.

What's that?

- Heroin.
- It comes from opium, right?

It's morphine mixed with chemicals.

Will you inject it?

We'll start by inhaling
and then see.

It's incredible to—

Shh.

Be quiet now.
Try to concentrate.

The first time is the best.

It's the one you long for.

It's called…

'Morning.

Good morning!

It smells.
Have you been smoking?

Not on your life.

I light a candle to meditate.

Where's your IV?

Dr. Lévesque had it removed.

Good morning, my doctoresses.

Take a deep breath.

Does it hurt here?

Oh, yes.

- And here, too?
- There too, yes.

- Is it unbearable?
- Goodness, no!

You're in high spirits.

Couldn't be higher!

How do you sleep?

Like a baby.

Then I won't prescribe painkillers.

Forget it!

That's wonderful.

I always say, the longer they stay lucid,
the better.

I plan to remain lucid till I die.

Wonderful, Mr. Parenteau.

Thanks so much, Dr. Dubé.

I'm not Dr. Dubé.

How fitting,
because I'm not Mr. Parenteau.

Who's he?

So it all started with Maria Goretti?

Exactly. The girl who said no!

Which one was Maria Goretti?

A Portuguese peasant.

Portuguese?
Santa Maria Goretti!

She was Italian?

From Nettuno.

Portugal,

that's Fatima, the apparitions,
the Virgin, the shepherds.

The secret of Fatima.

Which only the Pope could hear.

Poor Canada, in 1960.

Look, we believed it.

So they filmed the edifying life
of Maria Goretti.

Starring?

I've racked my brains.

Inés Orsini.

Of course!

The immortal Inés Orsini!

How could I forget?

I saw it at school in Padua
with the Jesuits.

Me, the Jesuits at Brébeuf.

Me, at the Chicoutimi seminary.

For the whole film,

the immortal Inés Orsini
is covered from head to toe.

But at some point
they had to at least suggest

the abject nature
of the bestial desire

of the vile rapist.

So the exquisite Maria dips
her adorable toes into the ocean.

With a regal but modest gesture,

she lifts her skirt…

The thighs of Inés Orsini!

Even I remember!

Oh, the rivers of sperm I spilled

dreaming of her thighs.

So that explains the rise
in the level of the St. Lawrence River.

Absolutely!

For years I'd fall asleep with a hard-on,
dreaming of Inés Orsini,

until the day I saw

Françoise Hardy on TV singing
All the Boys and Girls.

I was suddenly indifferent
to Inés's holy airs.

Maria Goretti, alone,

abandoned; the fate of womanhood.

For a long time I slept with Françoise Hardy.
We were very happy.

Alas, I discovered Julie Christie in a film.

Our mad affair lasted six months,

till I met Chris Evert,
the tennis champ,

whom I left for the sublime Karen Kain

dancing Carmen in Marseille.

All my life I went to bed
with the world's most gorgeous women.

Then one morning I awoke realizing

I'd fallen asleep
dreaming of the Caribbean.

I'd grown old.
Women had deserted my dreams.

It's been so long
since I dreamed of a man.

Just what is it you do?

You're president
of a Norwegian oil firm.

You've bought a North Sea oil field
from a failing U.S. company.

You can produce oil for $7 per barrel,
and you sell for $25.

But you want to limit your exposure
to fluctuating oil prices. How?

No idea.

You see me, we do a swap.

What's that?

A deal where my bank

pays you a set price
and you pay the floating price.

You contract to sell your oil
at a set price

for a set period. In short,

I manage your financial risk.

Are you good at what you do?

Pretty good.

Could you get the driver

to stop at the lake?

Probably.

I'd like to see it again.

At Berkeley, I did my PhD
alongside Locken and Donaldson,

two future Pulitzers.

They were no better than me,
but they were American.

Me, I came back here,

I started to teach,
got married, and then…

then nothing.

Your women kept you too busy.

That was small-time, like you said.

No, what I lacked was extravagance.

Extravagance.

I went in for pathetic trysts
in poorly heated East End flats.

I was replaced by a TA within 48 hours.

The dean neglected to say goodbye.

The lowliest secretary
gets cake for maternity leave.

Ladies and gentlemen,

for health reasons
I'll be unable to complete this term.

Ms. Raphaëlle Metellus
will replace me.

Yes?

Does this affect our deadlines?

No, deadlines and exam dates
remain unchanged.

Any other questions?

Good luck.

Thanks.

So, as you saw last week,

the 1840 election
was particularly stormy.

The Whig party…

then newly formed,

united four distinct constituencies.

First, the National Republicans,

followers of Adams and Clay,
the party founders.

They were rapidly joined
by the Conservatives,

who were hostile to…

Downstairs? Where downstairs?

Downstairs. Take the stairs and go down.
Simple enough.

He's got the whole floor to himself.
You can't miss him.

- To himself?
- We have to take the stairs

every time he needs something.

You think I enjoy that?
Plus everyone smokes in his room.

A never-ending parade of women…
It's chaos. Get out of my way!

Hi. Bye.

- How old is that one?
- Who?

- The girl that just left.
- I don't know.

- She's younger than your daughter.
- Possible.

She spends the night with you?
I guess you pay her.

You could at least
take one your own age!

At this point,
I don't really have a choice,

I have to take what I can get.
- Do you know the pain

that kind of relation can cause?

Of course, you don't give a damn!
It's the least of your worries!

So long as you ejaculate!
- Oh, my God. Pardon me.

- No, Sister! Please stay.
- I'll be back.

No, no, stay! Stay. Come here.
Please. I beg you.

It's one of those mornings
where I'll be in desperate need

of the comforts of faith.

You pig. Piece of shit.

It smells like manure here.

It's a candle I light
for my prayers.

Do you know what will happen
to you in hell?

- No.
- They'll lock you in a room

with all the women you seduced
and you'll be forced to listen to them

for all eternity.
- Help.

Eternity is a long time.

You pig. Piece of shit.

Piece of shit. Pig…
- Stop it.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Irina's home, I have to go out.

Nathalie buying for you?

She's a friend.

If you're a regular,
maybe we should deal directly.

It's only temporary.

Everything in life is temporary.

"You can never swim
in the same river twice," said…

what's his face? You know…

What's-his-face.

Yeah, what's-his-face.

You can't count on Nathalie.

She'll pull a fast one on you.

We'll see.

You know where I live.

Sure.

Pierre, I don't want to be indiscreet,

but do you sometimes
hear from Arielle?

Yes, we see each other
from time to time.

From time to time?

They eat together
every other week.

What's going on with your hair?

My hair?

- It's not as grey.
- Think so?

You haven't started dyeing it?

My wife's hairdresser
recommended a shampoo.

Your wife's hairdresser?

It's a revitalizing product,
not dye at all, simply—

You obey her every whim,
don't you?

No. Not at all.

Come on, not every other week.

And last Thursday? You dined together
at Le Petit Extra, no?

Yes, dear, but—

- How long since you last saw her?
- I don't know.

Two weeks.
You had lunch together

at Paris Beurre exactly two weeks ago.
- It's just lunch.

Well, I should hope
you're not having dinner with her!

It's out of the question.

I agree with you entirely.

Rémy, please, shut up.

What? The child's right.

Personally, I've never invited
a woman out to dinner

without the express intention
of jumping on her like a crepe suzette.

Or, in the case of Asian women,
a mushi pancake.

What I like about you, Rémy,
is that you're a loyal friend.

You're lucky to have
such honest friends.

Oh, yes, very lucky.
Extraordinarily lucky.

What are you doing here?

I was waiting for you.

You're always on my mind.

I know, you've told me.

At night I picture you bleeding in an alley,
in shooting galleries.

I'm always so scared.

It's unbearable.
- You imagine too much.

You know this can't go on.

Of course I know. I know it better than you.
You can't help me.

I know it's my fault,
that's what's killing me.

That doesn't change anything.
I don't need this.

You don't care much about living, do you?

Not really.

I was like you at your age.

Ready to die at any time.
I didn't care.

That's why young people
make the best martyrs.

It's paradoxical,
but living grows on you,

when you begin to subtract:

I've got 20 years left, 15, 10.

When you realize
it's for the last time…

I'm buying my last car.

This is my last trip
to Genoa, Barcelona…

I won't live that long.

How do you know?

Overdoses are pretty frequent.

But you can never tell.

Maybe you'll kick it
and reach a ripe old age.

We can't decipher the past,
how can we know the future?

No one ever knows
what'll happen to them.

Except me, now. I know.

- Are you scared?
- Sure am.

I don't want to stop living.
I loved life so much.

What was it you loved?

Everything.

Wine, books, music,

women. Above all, women.

Their smell, their mouths,
the feel of their skin.

- Were there many of them?
- Yes.

Don't they begin to seem the same?

A bit, yes.

But I never tired of them.

Still the great seducer?

No, not anymore.

With age, it's not the same thing.

Do you still enjoy wine?

Unfortunately not.
Not with my liver.

The trips you dreamed of,
did you take them?

Nowadays,
there are tourists everywhere.

It's not the present you cling to.

It's your past life.

That life is already dead.

Perhaps.

Hello.

I expected a musty antique dealer,
not a ravishing young lady.

I warn you, I'm no specialist.

At one time everyone here was Catholic.

Like in Spain or Ireland.

At a very precise moment —
in 1966, in fact —

the churches suddenly emptied out,
in a few months.

A very strange phenomenon
that has yet to be explained.

So now we don't know
what to do with this.

The authorities
would like to find out

if it has any value.

Commercial value?

Yes.

Do you have any 18th-century
French chalices?

The Americans snapped them up.

There are a few examples in museums.

I'm sure this has great value

for people here,
the collective memory.

But is there anything
that we could sell?

On the world market?

Yes.

Honestly, I can't imagine it.

In other words, this is all…
absolutely worthless.

I'll show you out.

Pius XII sitting on his ass
in his gilded Vatican,

while Primo Levi was taken to Auschwitz…
That's not sad!

It's despicable! Hideous!

If what you say is true,

and history is a series
of abominable crimes,

then someone has to exist
who can forgive us.

That's my belief.

I envy you.

If at least I'd written.

You wrote nothing?

A few papers here and there,
nothing serious.

- What are you doing?
- What?

- What are you doing?
- It bugs me.

What would you have written?

The Gulag Archipelago,
The Periodic Table.

Really, in that class?

- Never.
- So?

At least I'd have left a mark.

We need to succeed,
even on our own terms.

To be able to say we did our best.

It allows us to die at peace.

I'm a total failure.

At least you realize it.

So many professors are smug,
unbearable.

I don't know your daughter,
but Sébastien's not exactly a failure.

No thanks to me.

You don't know that.

We thought we'd pay a visit.

Everyone wonders how you are.

Not everyone, surely.

You'd be surprised.

That last day in class
no one seemed very moved.

We had no idea at the time.

Exactly.
Now that you're gone…

We see what we're missing.

I'm touched to hear that. Sincerely.

We should be going.

We have a lecture by Mr. Roby at 4:00.

Off you go.

- Good luck.
- Thanks.

Yeah, good luck.

Don't give up.

I won't.

- Well I never…
- Surprising.

For illiterates, they're sweet.

It's not their fault.
No one taught them.

It's the same everywhere.

At this price we'll come anytime.

We'll see.

- I don't want it.
- We agreed.

No, thanks.

- Do you want to split hers?
- Okay.

We're getting married next summer,
at my parents' in France.

You'll see, the chapel's lovely.

Louise and I married on a grey
February day in a dismal suburb.

So we could sleep together
without our families hassling us.

I want a wedding on the Loire.

Six months later,
I cheated on her.

- That was fast.
- Indeed.

Thanks.

When I met Sébastien, I said,

"With him it's forever,
there'll be no one else."

I hope it lasts, for your sake.

Because, you know, love…

No, no, no!

Not love.

Mom and dad talked like that. Love.

I love you. I love you too much.
I don't love you.

You can't build a life
on pop-song philosophy.

Love Me Tender.
Love, Love Me Not.

It's ridiculous.

My parents divorced when I was three.

For several years,

Dad continued to come over
for Sunday lunch.

Half an hour before he left,
I'd vanish.

I'd be lying on the ground
in front of his car

so he couldn't leave.

My kids won't go through that.

So now my nocturnal pleasures
are provided

by my giant-screen Toshiba
at the foot of my bed.

- No more curled-up toes?
- That's over.

I've seen enough ceilings.
- Forever?

I've closed the store,
laid down my arms,

hung up my skates.

Things are much quieter
between us too.

Well, well.

He's in Bologna all week
and I'm in Rome.

There's the weekend, but…

My wife falls asleep in bed
with the kids.

Great, you can reread Tocqueville.

That's what I did.
2,000 pages on bible paper.

He's increasingly cultivated,
and his prostate increasingly swollen.

Sorry, I still enjoy it a lot.

In the country there's an old cowboy I…

Cowboy? You're with a cowboy now?

Yes, there's an old cowboy
I invite over to shake my bush.

To shake your bush!

Yes, but we had a fight.

I'll never understand men.

All my life I dated cads
who thought only of escaping

after satisfying their base needs.

The other day, as a compliment,
I said to my cowboy,

"To think we can still have
sexual flings at our age."

He was incensed.

He doesn't want to be a sex object,
talks about his masculinity.

- We love that!
- Invokes father hunger,

goes on about exploring
his feminine side, his inner me.

It was unbearable.

The last thing I want is
a limp-dicked sentimentalist.

I want to be screwed forcefully.
That's all.

I'm sensitive and smart enough for two.

A rub-down?

Would he like a rub-down?

Does the Muslim need
to bow towards Mecca?

Does the Carmelite
long for the Holy Species?

Is this your first time here?

I don't know
if you believe in random acts

of kindness,

but if you do,
render this sick man happy.

Give him the mother of all rub-downs.

You will be repaid a hundredfold,
in this life or another.

Am I in heaven already?

Are you my Valkyrie, my houri?

Joy!

Hello?

Nathalie didn't show.

It's bad.
Your father's in withdrawal.

I called, no answer.

Know where Nathalie is?

No idea.

She's disappeared.

I warned you.

I may come back.

Before 11.

I'm not supposed to do this.

You were right.
You said not to trust you.

Your dealer said that, too.

Wake up. We've a contract.
- What contract?

I buy dope, you look after dad.

- What's with him?
- He's waiting.

We're coming.

We're coming.

You honour a contract!

That's heavy, man.

It's not heavy. We had a deal.
I'm counting on you.

At the market… my dad…

Y'know, my dad…

Want to trade dads?
Me, I made my life.

I prefer my life to yours.

Perfect young man.

Perfect career.

Perfect fiancée.

I'm imperfect.

It's sad. It's very sad.

Where have you been?

I didn't know what to do.

- Get a spoon.
- What?

A spoon.

Thirty.

Fill it to thirty.

I can't manage.

What is that?

Don't ask, we don't have time.

You have to help. I beg you.
Give him this.

He needs it.
Please, I'll explain later.

- What's in it?
- Heroin.

I beg you.

- Shut the door, at least.
- I'm going.

- Just this once.
- It'll soon be over.

Better?

We sat on your pier.

He was never happier
than at the lake.

So could we borrow the cottage?

Of course, I'll get the key.

Thank you.

What is it?

The keys to the cottage.

What for?

I'm letting Sébastien use it.

He wants to take Rémy.

Without asking me?

I'm truly sorry.

I'm the one who decorated it.

That's true.

The hours at Ikea, don't they count?

Or the curtains I sewed?

You lend our house to strangers
without asking!

Rémy's not a stranger.

That's why Nicole
divorced Tom Cruise!

He'd lend their Colorado home
to anybody.

I'm lending my house
to my friend Rémy,

and you shut up.

If that's how it is,
I won't stay another second.

I'm taking the girls and moving out.

I'm sorry. Forget it, we'll manage.

No way.
Use it whenever you like.

Don't worry. It's always this way.
That's life.

Thanks.

No news from Sylvaine?

No, I even called
the boat's owner in Chile.

I hope she's okay.

She is, it's just the Net uplink.
The Pacific's big.

Embrace the mystery.

Embrace the mystery
and you'll be saved.

Say you love him.

Tell him,

and touch him.

Touch him!

What's this?
Checking out without authorization?

Don't try bringing him back
when he gets worse!

Savage!

Would you really
have beaten her up?

I dunno.

I never could've beaten a woman.

Too bad; some did deserve it.

Don't you start again.

Some women need a firm hand.

For instance, you, Sister—
- Ah!

Get him out of here, for God's sake!
Get rid of him!

What are you waiting for?!
What, are you paid by the hour?

Drink this one.

Right now?

Here. Methadone's serious.

Now I trust you.

Drink one a day.

Only one. No more, no less.

Come back on Monday.

If you screw up,
you're out of the program.

I still can't come to terms with it.

You know you have to.

I can't accept it.

That's how it is. It's the law.

The very instant you shut your eyes,
millions more will also die.

But I won't be here anymore.
Me.

I'll be gone for good.

If at least I'd learned something.

I feel as helpless
as the day I was born.

I haven't found a meaning. It's…

I have to search.

I have to keep searching…

We've been everything.

Separatists, supporters
of independentists, sovereignists,

"sovereignty-associationists".

At first we were existentialists.

We read Sartre and Camus.

Then Fanon,
we became anti-colonialists.

We read Marcuse and became Marxists.

Marxist-Leninists.

- Trotskyists.
- Maoists.

After Solzhenitsyn we changed.

We were structuralists.

Situationists.

Feminists.

Deconstructionists.

Is there an "ism"
we haven't worshipped?

Cretinism.

God, no. Think of Guo Jing.

Who was Guo Jing?

An archeologist with a skirt
slit to the crotch.

Even you remember.

In the '70s,
China opens up to the West.

She comes
on a cultural exchange.

The university sends
its trusty radical, me…

I enter the dining room
of her hotel.

I spot her, and die.

Beauty that could melt Emperor Qin's
7,000 terra-cotta warriors.

I order tea, we make small talk.

I can see us doing the Pekinese lotus.

The Szechuan dragon.

To make myself
appear interesting,

I dive in, "Your country
has achieved so much.

"We're so envious.

Your Cultural Revolution
is wonderful!"

Her lovely black eyes glaze over.

I'm mortified to realize
that she's thinking,

"He's either a CIA agent

or the worst cretin in the West."

The latter hypothesis wins out.

So much for the lotus and dragon.

For two years she'd cleaned pigsties
on a re-education farm.

Father murdered,
mother committed suicide.

And some dumb French-Canadian

who's seen the films
of Jean-Luc Godard

and read Philippe Sollers

says that
the Chinese Cultural Revolution

is wonderful!

Cretinism doesn't sink any lower.

Ta-da! Voluntary simplicity.

Scrambled eggs with Ossetra caviar
and fresh truffles.

From Tuscany.

And to stay in Italy,
Castello Banfi Excelsus,

a modest vintage.

Why were we so dumb?

- Are we to infer congenital stupidity?
- Not at all.

Intelligence isn't an individual trait.

It's collective, national, intermittent.

Oh, a new theory!

Athens, 416 BC.
Euripides premieres his Electra.

Two rivals attend,
Sophocles and Aristophanes.

And two friends, Socrates and Plato.

Intelligence was there.

I can top that.

Firenze, 1504, Palazzo Vecchio,
on facing walls, two painters:

Leonardo da Vinci

and Michelangelo.

An apprentice: Raffaello.
A manager: Niccolò Machiavelli.

Philadelphia, USA, 1776-1787.

Declaration of Independence

and the Constitution.

Adams, Franklin, Jefferson,

Washington, Hamilton and Madison.

No other country has been so blessed.

I was born in Chicoutimi,
Canada, in 1950.

It's a miracle you're not dumber.

In 1950, everyone was dumb,
in Athens and Chicoutimi.

In Italy you'd have supported
the Red Brigades.

Now it's Berlusconi.

Philadelphia voted George Bush.

You see, you're not that dumb.

Intelligence has disappeared,
and it can take eons to come back.

From Tacitus to Dante was what,
11 centuries?

- The Arabs kept intelligence alive.
- True.

You're not hungry?

It won't go down.

- And you?
- No, thanks.

I never thought I'd see the day
you'd turn down fresh truffles.

Alas, that day is here.

A sip of wine?

Drink to my health
and tell me how good it is.

I'd like to bow out
just like Félix Faure.

Why am I not surprised?

I can dream.

Who was he? Why?

Oh blessed Félix Faure,

the President of the French Republic.

His heart stopped beating
while his mistress,

the admirable Ms. Steinheil,
kneeling before him,

bestowed on him the most glorious
blowjob of all time.

My God!

His enemies gloated,

"She seized him, the would-be Caesar,
and he had a seizure!"

Henceforth Ms. Steinheil
was known as the kiss of death.

I should be so lucky!

It's not our fault
if your heart is unstoppable.

I'd like to remind you
that at a certain time,

I and several others here
blew you most heartily,

with enough force
to capsize a schooner.

What do you know
about blowing buoys?

Well, sir, our efforts
earned gushing praise.

Heavens, that's hard to swallow.

I'm beat.

Go to bed.

Aren't you coming?

Not tonight.

The Middle Ages,
the manuscripts…

The barbarians, everywhere,
tomorrow…

Their prince approaches.

Hello.

I'm scared.

We'll do what you want.
It's your decision.

Know what I want for you?

To have as fine a son as you.

Heard from Sylvaine?

No.

Tell her I thought of her.

I love you.

Not so long ago
I'd have jumped you without asking.

I might have let you.

I suspected as much.

- I wasn't here. You didn't see me.
- Of course.

This just came in.

On a ship,
you call it the evil eye…

Striking a growler, an iceberg,

at night,
or a fire from an oil leak…

If that happens,
you know you may not make it back.

It's been too long
since I've seen you.

My daddy, my papuschka,

I'll have missed you all my life.

Tell yourself I'm a happy woman,
I've found my place.

I don't know how you did it, but…

you managed to pass on
your lust for life.

You and mom raised
incredibly strong children.

It's a miracle really.

You know…

the first man in a woman's life…
is her father.

You'll always be with me.

Friends, sharing this modest life
with you has been a delight.

I take your smiles with me.

Oh, Rémy, Rémy.

Rémy.

The man of my life.

My guardian angel.

It's a privilege to know you.

The privilege was all mine, Miss.

The paramedics aren't here yet,
they've been detained.

Let's go for a walk on the beach.

Mom doesn't want to live here.

I don't need to sell it.

You can move in for now.

IF THIS BE A MAN

HISTORY AND UTOPIA

Will you never be back?

Since my mother died,
I have no one here.

Except for you two.

Why don't you come for Christmas?
- Yes. Come spend two weeks with us.

All right.

Listen, it depends somewhat
on my daughter, but why not.

We have to go now.

Goodbye, Sébastien.

Take care of yourself.

- You, too.
- Have a good trip.

Call us.

- Take care of yourself.
- Thank you.

Here you go.

Thank you.

I love you.

Blu-ray Subtitling: CNST, Montreal