All language subtitles for The.Green.Room.1978.FRENCH.1080p.BluRay.x265-VXT

The Vanishing Fiancée

The story of "The Vanishing Fiancée"
takes place

in a small town in the East of France.

It begins 10 years
after the end of World War I,

which caused millions of deaths.

Hello, madam.
I'm here to see Mr. Gérard Mazet.

Yes, of course. Follow me, sir.

Gérard.

No, Julien. No, don't come to see her.

I prefer that you remember Genevieve

when she was alive, smiling.
I don't want you to.

I want to be with you, Gérard.

It can't be true.

No. No, I don't want to!

No, not that! I don't want it!

No, I don't want it! Go away!

Genevieve! Genevieve! Genevieve!

Death is conquered, my son,
for a baptized Christian.

Sin entered the world
through one man, Adam,

and with sin came death.

Through his death,
Jesus saved us from sin.

Thus he saved us from death,
which is the child of sin.

Your dear wife is not dead
because she was baptized,

washed of original sin.

She isn't dead. She's sleeping,

incorruptible,

and so she will be until the end of time,

until the day she awakens,

and you will awaken with her to appear

before our Father and our Judge.

Meanwhile, pray, my son.

Pray and hope, purify yourself,

to be worthy of her
on the Day of Resurrection

in the glory of the Lord.

Be with her again on Resurrection Day?

When? When will that day come?

Patience, my son. Patience and hope.

No, it can't be over! It's not possible!

Genevieve! Genevieve!

Leave me alone! Leave me alone!

- Gérard, don't do that!
- Leave me alone! I want to die.

It's your fault, Father. Yes, it's your fault.

This woman didn't die from sin
like you die from a bad cold.

Her husband doesn't want to hear
you talk about resignation.

Those who mourn their dead

don't want to see them again
in 20 years or 1,000 years.

They want to see them again now.

All we expect is for you to say,

"Get up and walk,"
and for the dead to get up and walk,

so if you can't bring
Genevieve Mazet back to life

today, right now,
you have no business here!

Get out! Get out!

I promised myself that I'd be brave.
I wanted to be strong.

You'll be strong,

as long as you don't listen
to professional consolation.

I know. I know what you're feeling.

You wish you were dead
instead of her or alongside her,

but it's up to you
whether she continues to live or not.

How can you say that?
What do you know about it?

Exactly the same thing
happened to me, Mazet.

My wife died 11 years ago,
a few months after our wedding,

during a trip to Italy.

Like you,
I thought I couldn't survive without her.

Like you, I heard only
stupid words of resignation.

Like you, I wanted to die.

And you found the courage
to go on without her?

I decided that, though she was dead
for others, for me, she was still alive.

Listen, Mazet,
I'll tell you what's important.

For uncaring people,
Genevieve's eyes are closed,

but for you, Gérard,
they will always be open.

Don't think that you've lost her.

Think that now you can never lose her.

Devote all your thoughts, all your actions,

all your love to her.

The dead belong to us
if we agree to belong to them.

Believe me, Gérard,
the dead can continue to live.

Are you looking for something, sir?

I wondered whether the auction of objects
belonging to the Vallance family

contains any old jewelry.

I don't know,

but the auctioneer's secretary can tell you.

- Hello, sir.
- Oh, yes.

I understand
you're looking for a specific object.

Yes, an old ring that belonged
to the Vallance family.

You know, almost everything here
belonged to the Vallance family.

Can you describe the ring?

It's a silver ring shaped like an eight

with two amethysts
inside the loops of the eight.

I see. Well, it isn't here.
The jewels will be sold later.

But here's what I suggest.

If I find the ring, I'll put it aside

so you can identify it before the auction.

- Thank you, I appreciate it.
- No problem.

I've never seen you here.
You don't usually attend auctions.

No, to tell you the truth, I don't like them,

especially not when I know
the owners of the objects for sale.

I feel like it's a kind of pillage.

For example, this clock, this fireplace set,

they might get dispersed at the auction.

If I could, I'd oppose that kind of thing.

I understand,
but you can't bring back the dead.

- Do you really think so?
- I don't know.

Maybe it's my profession,
but I only like old things,

things that once belonged to someone.

I hate new things.
That's why I often work here.

Tell me where I can reach you
if I find the ring.

I work at the newspaper Le Globe.

- Le Globe still exists?
- Yes.

I thought
they stopped publishing it long ago.

I used to read my uncle's collection
in his attic.

Well, listen, thank you very much.

Don't thank me
until the ring has been found.

I know what you're thinking.
"I've seen that somewhere."

Those are Neapolitan marionettes.

It's very beautiful. Thank you, miss.

Good evening, sir.

It's him. Go open the door.

- Hello.
- Hello, Georges.

- Sir, sir.
- Yes?

The boy fixed the lantern,
but you should look at it with him.

Yes, you're right, Mrs. Rambaud.

- Come on, Georges.
- Yes.

That's very good.

You repaired it very well.
Here, take these plaques.

Good, Georges. Turn it on.

Let's see the first plaque.

You recognize the dragonfly, don't you?
Another plaque now.

Yes, you're right. It's backwards.

- Careful with your fingers.
- Yes.

Those are fleas, big fleas.

They're well drawn, aren't they?
Do you like that?

No, insects don't interest you.

Wait.

Wait.

I just bought them.

Look, they're very beautiful.

You'll see.

These are wounded soldiers.
Maybe they're dead.

Yes, in the sand. They fell into the ground.

Here's another.

The church was bombarded.

Yes, they put the wounded
in the church to protect them.

Be careful.

That one's head was cut off,
probably by a shell.

Yes.

Look, Georges,
a dead soldier caught in a tree.

Yes, he's caught because of an explosion.

Must you show the child such horrors?

He's really too young.

You're right, Mrs. Rambaud.
Let's have dinner.

Really, Davenne,
I can't understand your refusal.

I'm offering you a unique opportunity.

First, you'd work in Paris with me.

I don't like Paris.
I like our provincial little town.

Don't you want to work
for a real newspaper,

a weekly that covers exciting events?

I admit it's very tempting,

and I'm very touched
that you thought of me,

but, you see, I like Le Globe,

so if Le Globe is sold, sell me with it

along with the furniture,
the files, even the typewriters.

But no one would buy Le Globe.

Come with me.
I want to show you something.

Do you know what this is?

These are the copies returned to us
each month in the mail.

Read this. Subscriber deceased.
Return to sender.

Subscriber deceased.

Subscriber deceased.

DECEASED

I shouldn't be telling you this at my age.

You're young, Davenne.

All our subscribers are so old,
they're half dead.

Each copy represents a dead reader.

Indeed. I couldn't explain
why I won't go to Paris.

You just explained it.

I want to stay here for them.

VALLANCE FAMILY AUCTION
FURNITURE - ART OBJECTS - BOOKS

- Good evening, miss.
- Good evening, sir.

You were right to come.
I think we found the ring you wanted.

- Oh, good.
- I'll be right with you.

Good. Thank you very much.

Can I leave, miss? Will you close up?

Of course, Gustave.

- Good night, Miss Mandel.
- Good night, Gustave.

- Mandel, is that your name?
- Yes.

Can I ask what your first name is?

- Cecilia.
- Cecilia.

But you'd probably remember
my parents better.

Wasn't your father's name Julien?

Yes, he died a long time ago,

but, like you, Mr. Davenne,
his name was Julien.

But then

why didn't you tell me when I saw you
that we'd already met?

I didn't want to bother you,

and it's excusable that you forgot me.

I have a pleasant memory of our meeting.

I was only a girl,
and I was afraid of people.

I was afraid of everything.

That whole afternoon,
you spoke to me like an adult.

I remember it now.

It was 11 years ago in Rome.

There was a terrible storm,

and we took shelter
with your father and his friends

in a trench dug by archeologists.

It was in Caesar's Palace.
You see, I remember.

Not exactly.

First of all, it was in Naples, not in Rome.

Then it wasn't 11 years ago but 14.

It's true there was a storm,
but it was in Pompeii,

and I wasn't with my father

but my father's brother, my uncle Henry.

That's terrible. I got it all mixed up.

So much has happened since then,

the war and other serious, cruel things,

but a few years after our meeting,
I was sure

I'd again see the man
who spoke to me like an adult,

and I had a very deep reason
for thinking so.

You want to see the ring,
and I'm delaying you.

Yes, forgive me.

- Is that it?
- Yes.

Good, then you must follow
the auction procedure.

It will be offered at 100 francs,

and you must tell me
how high you will bid.

I thought I'd go up to 300 francs.
Is that enough?

Yes, it's beautiful,
but I don't think it will go higher.

I can't promise you anything,
but I'll look out for you.

I'd rather not attend the auction.
It's painful for me.

I understand.

Then tell me who will be representing you
at the auction.

It will be Mrs. Rambaud, my governess.

Very well.

- Can I see the ring again?
- Of course.

Yes, sir.

I want to dictate some letters.

Tell me, Monique,

what do people here think of Davenne?

What do you mean?
What do you want to know?

Don't worry, nothing indiscreet, no gossip.

I just wondered
what his colleagues think of him.

I must admit Mr. Davenne is a bit special.

He doesn't talk much.
He's rarely seen in town.

We think he suffered a lot from having lost
so many friends in the war

while he himself wasn't even wounded.

I think he fought
with the anti-aircraft artillery.

Yes, yes, yes.

They were near the front.
They didn't kill many of the enemy,

but the Germans were afraid
of them and couldn't find them.

That's why none of them were wounded.

So you think
Davenne feels guilty about that?

Yes, it's possible.

In our region,
there aren't many men Davenne's age

who are walking on both legs!

Even so,

what a strange fellow.

I have the impression he voluntarily chose

to let the good things in life pass him by.

Some people don't like him.

They find him distant.

I think
he never got over the death of his wife.

They got engaged just before the war.

She waited for him for four years,

and they had just gotten married
when she died.

After that, he was never the same,

but I don't think
Mr. Davenne is a bad person.

When I say he's a complete failure,
that's unfair

because he's a virtuoso of obituaries.

When I think that, last year,
he wrote 31 articles about dead people

without ever using
the same expression twice!

Say, I saw you. There.

Back again? Huh?

Georges! We're leaving.

Go on, go.

We begin at 10 francs. Ten. Twenty.
Thirty, the bidder to the right.

Forty. Fifty. Sixty, the bidder to the left.

Seventy. Eighty, the back row.
Ninety, the bidder to the left.

These are precious relics of the last war.

Going once at 90. Going twice. Sold at 90

to the lady to my left.

It's 4:00.
Let's move on to the jewelry now.

And we're selling
this ring mounted with two amethysts.

The ring is made of silver,

and the stones are amethysts,

and we'll start the bidding at 100 francs.

One hundred and ten from the lady
with the black hat and the gloves.

One hundred and twenty.
One hundred and thirty.

One hundred and thirty from the left.

I can't see anymore.
One hundred and forty.

One hundred and fifty.
One hundred and sixty.

One hundred and eighty.

Then 185, if you want.

It's not your bid, madam.
It's the person behind you at 185.

I see, 190. Two hundred.
Two hundred, the bidder to the left.

Two hundred and ten,
the bidder with the gloved hand.

Going once. Going twice.

Sold at 210
to the lady with the gloved hand.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

No matter who it is, Mrs. Rambaud,
I'm not home.

Hello?

Mr. Davenne isn't here. He's on a trip.

I found your ring, Julie.

I wanted to give it back to you today

and not wait for your birthday.

I haven't forgotten you, Julie,
despite all the years.

Quite the opposite,
I think of you more and more.

We are going to spend the night together.

I'm really sorry,
but we can't wait any longer.

I'll tell our friend Davenne
that you came to see him.

No, please don't.
I want it to be a complete surprise.

He helped me so much, you see,
when my first wife died.

I thought he'd enjoy meeting Yvonne.

- You are...
- Yes, I'm Yvonne Mazet.

We got married in Paris last month.

My congratulations to both of you.

I'd gone to my cousin's house
to get some rest,

but at the station, I missed him.
I went to the wrong floor

and knocked on the door.
Yvonne opened it. I was very lucky.

No, Gérard, I'm the lucky one.

You know, that horrible war
killed so many young men,

it forced many women like me
to remain single.

I'm very glad we met.

Well, goodbye, sir.

Goodbye. Excuse me.

It's a pleasure to see on your face
how happy you are.

Well, then, agreed. I'll keep your secret.

His wife died a few months ago,
and he's already replaced her.

Genevieve was blonde.
The new Mrs. Mazet is brunette.

I suppose that, for him,
only the hair color has changed.

And he has the nerve to think
I'd enjoy meeting her!

Why are you turning away
from this man who's your friend?

Why do you refuse him
the right to a new life?

Do you think
it's forbidden to fall in love twice?

I don't know.

You really don't know?

I can tell you that when his wife died,
his real wife, I mean,

Mazet was in a state of terrible despair.

You should have seen the tears
streaming down his face.

Listen, I even saw him
try to commit suicide.

I stayed with him, talked to him,
tried to help him,

and now that wonderful woman
who devoted her life to him

has been replaced
like you replace a cleaning woman.

I can't share your indignation.

Why would the second Mrs. Mazet
erase the memory of the first?

Who says his remarriage
isn't another way of remembering?

Do you think I've replaced
all my friends who died in the war?

How can the dead hope to remain

if they aren't remembered
by those who survived?

Recently, I returned to the place

where I spent two years of the war.

The battle was so bad
that the ground is full of shells,

and the earth itself
can no longer be cultivated.

In this cruel, pitiless world,
allow me not to forget,

even if I'm the only one who doesn't.

I'm not good with words like you,

but I truly think it is necessary to forget.

Forgive me, I'm stupid.

It's my fault. I spoke to you brutally.

It's true. You're too brutal.

It comes from my solitude.

I rarely speak with someone
as we're speaking now.

I imagine I've lost the habit of listening.

I already told you
I had a good reason for remembering you.

Yes.

You didn't let me tell you.
Can I tell you now?

I'm listening.

We're alike because
we have something important in common.

For years, when people talked of you,

they said you were the man
who saw his wife appear when she died

when she was really
thousands of miles away.

It's true. That happened,
but I'm sorry I ever spoke of it.

I should have kept it a secret.

Yes, I understand.

At the time, it almost became a legend.

I think the others forgot about it,

but I remember because the same thing
happened to me with my father.

Almost the same thing.

Well, that was a long time ago.

No, I'd like you to tell me about it.

Wait. I'll stop the car.

I'm listening.

My mother was dead,
and I was in a boarding school.

I only saw my father on vacations.

One day, nine years ago, on March 17th,

I was visiting the Louvre Museum
with my school,

and I stopped in front of a picture
in a small room.

Only two people were there,

a guard and a visitor
who I first thought was a tourist.

I only noticed
he was hatless and sitting on a bench,

but when he turned toward me,
I recognized my father.

He was looking at me.

He smiled and held out his arms,

so I rushed toward him, all joyful,

and opened my arms, too,

but he disappeared.

That evening, I got a telegram
from England saying he'd died.

He died exactly when he appeared to me
in the Louvre.

You know,

in a certain way,
that vision softened my grief,

and the image I've kept of him,
that has never left me,

is the one of that apparition
in the museum.

The story I heard about you
and your wife's death

impressed me a lot,
and whenever I thought

about my father's death,
I also thought of you.

Yes, we had the same experience.
That's why we love the dead.

We don't want them forgotten.

We can't accept anyone betraying them.
We're alike.

No, we're not alike.

It's true I love and respect the dead,

but I love the living, too.

Listen, someone dies, and a child is born.

New friends can replace those
who have died. It's natural.

A man adores his wife, but she dies.

I think it's normal

for him to find a second love. It's natural.

No!

If you're talking about Mazet,
you won't convince me.

I think Mazet's behavior is inexcusable.

I'm sorry. I was wrong.
I thought we had the same ideas.

I thought so, too,

but we don't love the dead
in the same way.

You love the dead
as opposed to the living.

I want to go home.

Yes.

I prefer to say good night here.
Don't come with me.

As you wish.

I'll see. Please hold the line.

- Mr. Humbert.
- Yes.

- Paul Massigny died.
- I don't believe it.

They'll explain.
I don't know what happened.

Hello. Hello.

But how did it happen?

When will it be?

Thank you.

Here's a job for you. Massigny died.

Paul? He died?

Yes, in a car accident,
the stupidest kind of accident.

He stopped to change places
with a friend who wanted to drive.

He got out on the traffic side
and was hit by a truck.

- So Massigny is dead?
- Yes.

They brought his body back here.
The funeral is in two days.

The hotels are full of people from Paris,

politicians, journalists,

but not only men.
Massigny was a ladies' man.

Monique will send you the file on him.

I don't need a file to write about Massigny.

Here's my article on Massigny.

I couldn't bring myself to reread it.
I'm sorry.

- Mr. Davenne.
- Yes, Monique?

- The Massigny file.
- What should I do with it?

Mr. Humbert wants you
to choose a photo for your article.

Here's Massigny
on an official trip to Russia.

Oh, yes, it was in 1923.

Here, he's in front of the tomb
of the Unknown Soldier.

Yes.

Massigny during the crisis in Tunisia.

I'd never seen that photo.

Here's the famous photo
of the ministry that disappeared,

and here are two portraits.
This one's been published.

He looks really grumpy in the other one.

I really can't decide myself. You choose.

- Good evening, Monique.
- Good evening, sir.

Davenne! Wait!

What came over you?

How can you think
I'd publish this article about Massigny?

What's the matter with it?
Too short, too long or what?

Do you realize
how you're talking about him?

It's as if you wanted to kill him
a second time!

Give me that article.
Ask someone else to write the obit.

But I thought you were good friends.
I don't understand.

I suggest you ask someone
who didn't know Massigny.

Yes, Mr. Humbert,
Massigny was my best friend,

and I admit when our friendship ended,
I never replaced him,

but he taught me a very hard fact.

If you agree to be a member of society,

be ready to feel a deep sense of disgust.

My God! You hated him!

No, hate is not part of my outlook on life,

but I do think of him as the man
who has hurt me the most.

Through him, I saw that for certain people,

life is a ferocious race
with no holds barred,

so I withdrew from the race and gradually,

because of Massigny,
I am now only a spectator of life.

You're right, Mr. Humbert.
Massigny was my friend,

and all I feel at the news of his death
is immense relief.

IN MEMORY OF LE GLOBE WORKERS
WHO DIED FOR FRANCE

What advantage
would Massigny have drawn

from entering the Paris City Council,
even if it was a triumph?

I wonder.

Whereas a nearly humiliating
failure taught him

about the increasingly urgent need

not to clean up the voting process

but to dishonor it.

For two months,

Paul Massigny,
the incomparable polemicist,

hemmed in
by the narrow columns of a newspaper,

methodically distanced himself.

Then suddenly, when a law was proposed

on the renewal of privileges
of the Bank of France,

which would have virtually put
all the national treasury

in the hands of the Rothschilds,

Paul Massigny attacked Minister Bridoux

with a ferocity the court couldn't ignore.

At his trial, he was sentenced
to three months in prison,

but he could breathe
because he'd opened a breach.

Injustice, which is omnipresent,
struck him

this time in a vital
and unarmed part of his soul,

but Massigny did his duty as a leader,

being the first in the line of fire.

The number of subscribers
tripled in a few weeks,

and his collaborators grouped around him.

As the years went by,

Paul Massigny encountered serious rivals,

some of whom honor us
with their presence.

The others are dead.

But none of them represented as forcefully

the renewal of social thought

because none of them
had been insulted for so long.

People will say,
"Why blow on cold cinders?

"Why rekindle the fires of hate?"

But if you think what you see here is hate,

it only shows the frivolity
of your own heart.

The deep, soundless cry
that comes from Massigny's work

and that will always come from it
is that of a free man.

Georges, go close the window.

Go get some water!

I wasn't able to protect you, Julie.

I must find an idea
to keep you closer to me.

Hello, sir.

Hello, sir.

I came here two weeks ago.
Is my order ready?

Yes, yes. Your work is ready.

I hope it's what you want.

No, that's not it at all.
I'm very disappointed.

But it's exactly
like the photo you gave me.

No, it's not possible. This isn't her.

I'm not going to accept delivery
of this thing.

You can't be serious.

Here. I prefer to pay you.

- But I don't want it.
- Take the money.

No, out of the question.

- Take this money.
- I don't want it.

Take the money
and destroy this thing now in front of me!

- Out of the question.
- Destroy this thing at once.

I've lost all hope, Julie.

I feel like I'm losing you all over again.

Please, Julie, don't abandon me.

JULIE DAVENNE - BORN VALLANCE
1897-1919

Before granting you an audience,

I would like to know more
about you and your projects.

Your letter isn't very clear.

First of all, why this chapel?

It was badly damaged during the war,

and it will never be used
for services again.

There aren't enough priests in our diocese,

and they have far more urgent work to do.

So what do you want to do with it?

I want to fund the repairs
and maintenance of this chapel.

I chose it
precisely because it was abandoned.

No one will be bothered
if I consecrated it to my dead.

If you consecrated it to your dead?
What do you mean, your dead?

All the people who counted in my life
and who are dead now.

For a long time,
I thought their memory was enough.

Now I know I must do more for them.
This chapel can help.

Do you intend to found some kind of sect?

Out of the question!

I only think it's time to offer the dead

an expression of the love they deserve.

Are you connected with the Freemasons?

Certainly not.

Do you have a regular confessor

who could guarantee
the purity of your intentions?

Well...

No, I don't.

You'll have to trust me.
You have no choice.

Are you Catholic?

For a long time, I wondered if I had faith.

Now I'm sure and even proud

that I don't have the faith
some people would like.

What do you mean?

I'm shocked by the terrible way
the dead are forgotten.

I want to correct that injustice.

They have no celebrations, no honors,
no shelter, no security.

I don't know
where I got the will to refuse to forget,

but I invented a ritual for them.

And since you have some money,
you would like to arrange

for this spiritual cult to become reality?

That's it. I thought of candles,
one for each dead person.

Together, they'd form a forest of flames,
burning night and day.

A forest of flames?

I don't know what to say.

You know,
the Church does not appreciate outsiders.

Hello. I thought
you didn't want to see me anymore.

No, I thought it was you
who didn't want to see me.

No, of course I do,

but the last time was
as if you ordered me to be silent.

And you weren't tempted
to disobey the order?

No, because I was raised to be obedient.

I know about obedience.

No, I didn't want to avoid you.
Quite the contrary.

Since we last met,
I've grown closer to your way of thinking.

Our dead.

Our poor dead.

They ask so little that they get even less.

You'll see me more often right here.

I don't like cemeteries anymore.
They're cold prisons.

They lock up the dead to get rid of them
under the frozen earth.

I don't agree.
They're at home everywhere underground.

The Chinese used to oppose
the building of railroads.

They didn't want to disturb
the land of the dead.

If people honored them that way,
it was out of fear,

but we love them, don't we?

Yes, you're right. We love them.

Listen, I have a big project.

I can't talk about it yet,
but you'll be the first to know.

- I'll succeed.
- In any case, be careful.

Sometimes your initiatives worry me.

It's a letter from the bishop.

I'm very pleased.

We are going to repair the chapel.

There will be construction work

and scaffolding.

I'll take you

with me.

There will be men, painters.

We'll work together.

Ah, yes, very good.

Thank you, Georges.

- She is beautiful, isn't she?
- Yes.

Yes, Julie was very beautiful.

You see, Georges,
I knew Julie would always be with us

if I lived surrounded by her belongings,

but I'm going to do more for her,

a permanent refuge
where her brilliance will shine.

She'll be the central flame
on an altar of light.

Julie, eternal young woman.

Loyal, brave, magnificent Julie.

Go on, Georges. You think
I'm a crazy old man. You're right.

Go put that in the car.

Thank you, Georges.

Thank you, ma'am.

- Goodbye. See you tonight.
- See you later.

I told you you'd be the first to know.
Now the time has come.

I can't say where I'm taking you.
Do you trust me?

Of course I trust you,

but I still find you very mysterious.

Aren't you going to ask me
to put a blindfold?

No, not that.

Listen, I'm not ready.
I'd rather you waited for me here.

If you don't mind, I'll come and get you.

Please, just one more minute.

We can go in now.

Now my dead have a place
that's irrevocably theirs.

This former chapel
won't be a place of death

or a place of rest, but a place of life.

Even after we're gone, you and I,

these flames will continue to glow,

breathing to the rhythm
of the human heart.

None of them should go out.

But all these portraits,
all these people, did you know them?

Yes, they're my dead friends.

You're young,
but you'll see that, at a certain point,

you know more people
who are dead than alive.

This man, for example, who was he?

His name was Simon Jardine.
He came from Ireland.

During the 30 years he spent in our region,

policemen and judges
didn't have a lot of work.

His reputation for probity and logic
was such

that anyone who had a quarrel
wanted him to arbitrate it.

And this couple?

They were married in 1911,
and for three years,

they were never apart,
not for a day, not for an hour,

and then when he was drafted,

she wanted to jump out a window,
but the neighbors stopped her,

so he deserted to join her.

They couldn't live without each other.

They managed to flee to Holland,

where they died recently, a few years ago,

a few days apart, like Siamese twins.

Look at this man with the handsome face.

All his life, he was shy, incredibly shy.

I'd like to tell you about him,
but it's difficult.

You'd have to hear the sound
of his extraordinary voice.

This one is an American.

He loved Europe so much,
he finally became British.

Unfortunately, I didn't know him well,

but he taught me the importance
of respecting the dead.

And this little boy?

When I was an adolescent,
I saw him die during summer vacation.

He had blood poisoning.

This woman also died very young,

but the way we all want to die,
asleep in bed.

Her life was snuffed out
like one of these candles.

You see, her family had this engraved.

Remember her in your prayers.

But, in fact,
she was irreverence personified.

I remember
how she ended a heated argument

by exclaiming,
"If God existed, I'd be the first to know!"

And this soldier?

Yes, you guessed it.
He's a German soldier.

I'm one of his killers
because our guns shot his plane down.

He looks like he's asleep.

Yes, it's the only photo
we could find of him,

but you must admit that,
when you look at this photo,

it's difficult to think of this man
as an enemy.

And the musician there?

Did you know him?

Yes, I'd almost completely forgotten
about him,

but when I heard a piece
he'd composed on the radio,

I realized his clear and sunny music

is perfect to accompany
the memory of my dead friends.

So they're all here.

All the people you've known,

all the people who have counted...

Yes, they're all here.

Now I'd like to ask you something.

Can I?

Yes.

Cecilia, would you become
the guardian of this temple with me?

Would you share the rights and duties?

Would you watch
over all of them with me?

Don't answer right away
if you want to think it over,

but I must tell you
I've been waiting for this a long time,

a very long time.

What I'd like
is for my dead to become yours,

and, in return, yours would become mine.

Don't think the arrangement is completed.

There is room here for all your dead.

Their flames would simply be added
to the ones here.

Tell me what you want. Tell me.

- What I want?
- Yes.

Do you want to know?

I want all these flames to blend together,

to melt into a mountain of light,

a single flame.

Do you mean that in your life,
there's only room for one celebration?

Yes, one celebration.

No. I want to make sure
I've understood you.

You mean all your dead
would be only one?

Only one, yes.

Well, Georges, what did you do
with the plaques, huh?

What did you do?

Go to bed, without dinner.

- What did you do to him?
- I sent him to bed.

He broke the plaques.

Come here, you.

Cecilia, are you going to help me?

Listen, the important thing
is to find the boy.

Does Georges have family or friends
in the region?

No family, just Mrs. Rambaud,
who takes care of him.

Listen, on one side, there's the hospital,

and on the other, the police station.

Let's split up. You go to the hospital.
I'll go to the police.

Yes, that's it.

They didn't put him here.
He's in the other one.

Wait for me here, miss.

Where did the kid go to?

He's there. Come on.
What are you doing under there?

Don't be afraid, Georges.
I'll take you back home.

Drink this, my boy.

I'm sorry you're having money problems,

but I can't help thinking
these lectures are a good thing.

They'll finally allow your work,
your research, to be known.

It's true.
I wasn't very ambitious up to now,

probably because I was alone,

but now
there's the chapel to be kept up, so...

When are you leaving?

The day after tomorrow, but don't worry.

Since I've had the chapel,
my dead have been defending me.

I get the impression they're protecting me,
you understand.

Yes, I feel almost the same thing as you,

but the chapel reconciles you
with the future

and me with the past.

I've begun to accept the idea
of watching over them with you.

I feel like I'm coming out of illness

and moving toward health.

I haven't told you this before,

but without knowing it,
you've helped me a lot.

You've helped me, too, Cecilia,
and you'll help me even more.

In my absence,
you'll be the guardian of the temple.

Yes, the guardian of the temple.
Here is the key.

And there's something else.

Cecilia, I've chosen you
to complete the arrangement.

Complete the arrangement?

Yes, it will only be complete
when the last candle is lit,

and I want you to light it.

Which one?

Mine, Cecilia, when it's time.

Have a good trip.

Tell me,

if one day, I must light a candle for you,

then who will light one for me?

- Hello.
- Hello. Come in.

Did you get back from your trip yesterday?

Yes... No, I traveled all night
and got back this morning.

Oh, I see.

Anna, keep playing your piece.
I'll be right back.

If you can wait a moment,
the lesson is nearly over.

Yes, this is the first time
I've really come to your house.

I wonder if I shouldn't sign up
for piano lessons.

- Piano lessons?
- Yes.

If I were your student,
I'd have some power over you.

- Power over me?
- Yes.

You want to have power over me?

- I want to ask you a question.
- Yes.

What is the color of my eyes?

The color of your eyes. Wait. Wait.

No, I must admit...

You see?

Paul Massigny - 1914-1918
THE END OF HOPE

- What is it? You're leaving?
- I shouldn't have come here.

When I came through this door,
I spoiled everything.

Hello, please connect me with 2215.

Hello, Humbert? It's me, Julien Davenne.

Why are you calling at this hour?
What's going on?

I'm sorry. It's about Massigny.
There are things I need to know.

How often was he married?
Where did he live the past 10 years?

Who did he have affairs with?

I need the name of the person
who can tell me the most,

and I need to know
who was his last mistress.

Listen, I don't want to know
what happened between you two,

but frankly, your stubbornness
is beginning to annoy everyone.

Next month,
I'll stop working here and move to Paris,

but my advice is,
forget about your hate for Massigny.

It's really beneath you.

Even if you think I'm lacking in dignity,
I came.

I'm here to know. I have to know.

One day, you told me
all your dead were only one.

Now I know everything.

I know
that one dead person was Paul Massigny.

Yes, it's Paul Massigny.

- Did you know him?
- Yes.

He was my friend
throughout my boyhood and youth,

and then he betrayed me.

He destroyed the confidence I had in life.

He taught me suspicion.

There were also times
when I thought I hated him,

but when he died,
I realized I could never forget him.

He was good at seducing,
dominating, subduing people.

Even today,
Paul Massigny is upsetting my life.

He is separating us.

Now that I know you two were linked,
I want to know more,

and I'm ashamed of my curiosity.

Why did you never speak to me of him?

While he was alive,
I had no right to speak of him.

I had no right at all.

Our past didn't belong to me.

When he died, remember,

it was during the period
I'd stopped seeing you.

I had no more reason to speak of him.

It was all over.

But there was the cemetery
where we met so often.

Did you ever wonder
what tomb I was visiting?

Yes, but it was like opening a letter
sent to someone else.

Well, now we have one more thing
in common.

We both suffered because of him,
you and I.

It's true that Paul led me
to the brink of despair,

but I've forgiven him.

I've forgiven him, too.

Oh, that's good. That's good.

I shouldn't have doubted you.

This very place is proof
there's no room in you for hate.

No, there's no room here for hate.

Look at the flames.
Look how they move, how alive they are.

I could call each one by its name.
I recognize each candle.

- Where is Paul's?
- What?

Where is the candle for Paul Massigny?

Why must there be a candle
for Paul Massigny

when, for you,
he's present in all these flames?

You just told me you forgave him.
Isn't he one of your dead?

No, he's one of the world's dead,
and now I know he's yours,

but he isn't one of mine.

Only those who belonged to me in life
belong to me in death.

But he once belonged to you in life,
even if he then stopped.

Those we have loved must all...

Of course, those are the ones
who can hurt us the most.

That isn't true. You haven't forgiven him.

Farewell.

Where are you going?
Will I never see you again?

Never like before and never here.

- Come back!
- Where is Massigny's place?

I can't. Why can't you understand

that I can't make him
the equal of the others?

Even toward them, I can't.

Farewell, then. The charm is broken.

- Hello, Doctor.
- Hello, Mrs. Rambaud.

- How did he spend the night?
- Not very well.

He didn't sleep much.
I heard him pacing in the room.

No, Doctor, he isn't there.
He's in the upstairs room.

He's locked in the burned room.

The burned room? I'll go have a look.

Who is it? What's going on?

It's me, Davenne.
I've come to see you as we agreed.

You should go home.
I didn't ask anyone for anything.

I don't need a doctor,
and no one in the house is sick.

You can't cure someone
who's lost the will to live.

Mrs. Rambaud,
there's nothing more I can do here.

Mr. Humbert, there's a young woman
who wants to talk to you.

She doesn't have an appointment,
but it's about Mr. Davenne.

Ah, Davenne.

- How is he?
- Not very well.

I saw Mrs. Rambaud.
She's in a terrible state.

Bring the lady in.

Mr. Humbert will see you now.

No, he took a trip to Scandinavia
two months ago,

but now he should be here.

Monique!

How long has it been
since we've seen Davenne?

Nearly a week, sir.

We had to delay his article by one issue.

Yes, he was a bit strange
after he returned.

Do you know him well?

You're charming.
He should have told me about you,

but he never really spoke
of his personal affairs.

Yes, he is very secretive.

Anyway, you certainly know him better
than I.

I met him when I was a young girl,

and then we lost track of each other,

and we met again last year, by chance.

Yes, to tell the truth,
he changed a lot recently.

I should have been more curious.

We argued,
and now I wish I'd drawn him out more.

Sometimes, colleagues
have trouble communicating,

but, my word, you're very upset!

You can tell me all about it.

Does he mean a lot to you?

I saw him several times this year.

I didn't think
he'd take such a big place in my life.

And in his life,
what place do you think you take?

How should I know?

He seems to like to see me and talk to me,

but I realized
if I happened to miss a date with him,

he wouldn't call or stay in touch,

and another 10 years might go by
before I saw him again.

With him,
you can never be sure of anything.

You know, it isn't hard to guess.

I think you're in love with that man.

Forgive me if I insist.

Does Davenne know
of your feelings for him?

Does he know you love him?

Would that change anything?

Julien Davenne is a man like any other.

He needs to love and be loved.

If he claims to enjoy solitude,
he's lying to himself.

No one, absolutely no one,
really likes solitude.

Let him know your feelings for him.

Do something. Act.

Don't let a misunderstanding
keep you apart.

What is it? You're bringing me food again?

I told you, I'm not hungry, Mrs. Rambaud.

No, it's Miss Cecilia
asking for you on the telephone.

I don't want to speak to her or to anyone.

I need nothing. I'm independent.

You refuse to speak to me.
Will you agree to read this?

I'm writing you things
I never dared to tell you

because you're unpredictable,
and your reactions frighten me,

and these are things
I hesitated to admit to myself.

Like you, I know it isn't easy
to live with the living.

It's easier with the dead.

We enclose them in transparent walls
of imagination.

What you didn't understand
and what I've decided to tell you

is that I love you,

but I know that for you to love me,
I should be dead.

Cecilia,

I received your letter.

Forget that letter.

- Cecilia.
- Don't say anything. Let me speak.

This afternoon, by a great stroke of luck,

I stopped feeling
that things were keeping us apart.

Something in me has changed.

Coming back here right away,
that was the important thing.

From now on, we'll come here
for the same reason, Julien.

- We are alike.
- Yes.

You know,
I'm not here to make any demands.

I'm here for them.

But they're here for you.

They're more present this evening
than ever.

They're saying
there's a place for Paul Massigny.

Forget Paul Massigny.

They say that there's an empty space,
that the arrangement isn't finished.

Stop talking about the empty space.
Forget about it.

Julien! Julien!

There's one missing. Only one. Just one.

No, nothing more. Nothing more.

Just one more candle,
then the arrangement will be finished.

Julien! Julien!

Cecilia, what happened, the two of us...

I know what happened.

Nothing happened. Nothing.

Julien!

Julien Davenne.