All language subtitles for The.Green.Perfume.2022.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

Know how he translated
"the cripple?"

The gimp.

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ACCESS

"Sarah, that is a lie!

Say what you like,

but don't insult me with a lie.

You are a low, dishonest man!

To get out of your debt to Lebedev,

you'll seduce his daughter,
like you seduced me.

- Shut up, for God's sake!
- Isn't that true?

I can't answer for myself.

Anger is choking me.
I may regret what I say.

You have always
brazenly deceived people.

All your wrongdoings
you blamed on Borkin,

but now I know who is responsible.

Shut up...

Sarah, or be gone!

Otherwise, I may speak harshly.

I can barely refrain...

from saying

something horrible,

insulting.

Shut up...

Jewess!

I won't be silent.

You deceived me too long
for me to be silent.

So you won't be silent,
for God's sake?

Go deceive the Lebedev woman!

You may as well know, then...

that you are going to die soon.

The doctor told me

that you would soon die."

- What?
- Martin...

I've been murdered.

Green Perfume.

THE GREEN PERFUME

'Evening.

Louise!

The Comédie-Française...

- What about it?
- An actor died on stage tonight.

Vlad?

Did you search the dressing room,
wings, stage?

No sign of forced entry.

The killer had it all:
badge, key, building layout.

You were right.
There's a mole in the troupe.

You coming, Martin?

You ok?

Go home if you like.
Everyone will understand.

No, I'm ok.

Don't worry.

It's just that...

I just remembered I had
the divorce papers to sign tomorrow.

You can postpone it, no problem.

No, of course I can. You're right.

Sorry, my mind's reeling.

I have to call my wife.

Why not just text the lawyer?

Yeah, that's what I'll do.

Be right back.

The restrooms, please?

Behind reception, on the left.

Let go of me!

Wait here.

Sit down.

Sit down!

I am afraid
we were a bit rough with you.

But rest assured, we mean you no harm.

I like it here.

It's nice to have
a quiet place of one's own.

A place where you can think, read,

far from the cares of the world.

Do you know the feeling?

For my generation,

owning a place this size
near Paris is complicated.

You're young. Don't worry.

One day,
you will have a place like this one.

Modern life is driving us mad,
don't you agree?

Forgive me, I'm exhausted.
I'd really like to go to bed.

I understand.
You're not having a good day.

No. May I call a cab?

Wait.
Someone will soon be driving you home.

Your generation was sacrificed.

Promises were made, but never fulfilled.

You were told there was a buffet

and when you arrived, nothing was left.

Are you interested in politics?

I believe

that young people
are politicized once again.

It's only normal
with everything going on.

The irrevocable failure of liberalism,

of the so-called democracy
in America and Europe.

They thought they could buy people
with cell phones,

computers,

election campaigns
full of vain promises.

But you are waking up.

Even my generation is waking up.

Critical minds are finally awakening.

And so are nations!

It is clear that
what is needed is character.

We need men and women
who think out of the box,

who think differently, freely.

We need dissidents, resistance fighters!

Excuse me...

You've lost me.
I'd really like to go now.

Have you ever been
to the Republic of Volyn?

To Rivne? To Lutsk?

Where?

What did Vladimir Mstislavich
whisper in your ear

before dying on stage tonight?

Nothing.

He tried to speak, but only gibberish

came out of his mouth.

Muddled sounds.

Are you behind his murder?

Are you going to kill me now?

Mr. Rémi is asking
if we're going to kill him tonight!

Killing two Comédie-Française actors
in the same evening

is a tad tricky.

I'm not sure we'd be congratulated.

Still, we have to get
the situation under control, Einhardt.

He never mentioned other activities?

No. He worked relentlessly at his art.
He lived for the theater.

We have little time for anything else.

We're on stage almost every day,
all year long.

His husband is a publisher?

Yes. He'll be back
from New York tonight.

I must insist:

No history of activism? Human rights
in his home country, for instance?

No, really. He never mentioned it.

Hello.

Do you know where Martin Rémi is?

Vladimir Mstislavich
spoke his last words to him.

He's not here.

He took off suddenly without a word
last night as we were having a drink.

Didn't that seem strange?

It did.

He even forgot his cell.

I brought it,
knowing we were to meet.

- Battery dead?
- Yes.

I was asked not to wake you.

Don't worry, the fare's been paid.

Thanks.

Have a nice day.

CITY MORGUE

We are actively seeking
a Comédie-Française actor.

Is it Martin Rémi?

What?

What d'you mean?

I hope you're joking.

Now wait! Don't turn things around!

I'm not going overboard.

I'm not acting hysterical. You are!

I said I won't see her,
I won't have dinner,

and you say you understand!

Now you say in a sugar-sweet voice

we're all having dinner
and it'll be great.

What?

With her husband and kids?
You must be joking!

No way. I don't care. I'm not coming.

So you're disappointed!

Stop your lousy emotional blackmail!

I'm not worked up. I'm totally serene!

I don't care. I'm not coming.

I won't make up with my sister
just because

you want a nice family dinner

with people who can't stand each other.

Look, Mom, anyway, I can't talk.

I'm in the middle of a book signing.

Of course there's a crowd.

Stop projecting your anxiety on me.

I'll let you go.
Some weird guy is coming to hassle me.

I have to let you go.

I'm signing off.

I can't talk anymore.

Ok, bye!

Hello.

Oops, sorry.

- I'll pick it up.
- No, I'll do it.

I need some information.

But I don't really know...

I'm all ears.

And Here My Troubles Began

It's complicated.

Where to start?

Go on. We're listening.

Right. Do you know many collectors?

- Comic book collectors?
- Yes.

I don't know exactly.

Actually, collectors
of original drawings, rare albums,

plates, stuff like that.

Not here.
The people who come here read comics.

Or they're parents who dress their kids
in Snoopy PJs.

Ok.

I was at a place last night
with a huge collection.

I want to know whose place it was
and where he lives.

You were at a guy's place
and you don't know where he lives?

Right. It was night.

A guy's place at night,
but you don't know whose?

In short, you don't know him.

- Life good otherwise?
- No, complicated.

I was sort of kidnapped.

Kidnapped by comic book collectors?

That's a good one.

I dunno. Try the Glénat gallery.

Or a guy like Albert Lejeune.

Around the corner.

Albert Lejeune, yes.
Where can I find him?

I mean, now, is he...?

Or do you have his number,
so I can call?

Look, I'm sorry. I need some air.

I can't bear sitting for hours,

and no one's here.

It's not my day, either.

So let's go find your guy.

When I'm worked up, I have to move.

I'll be back in a few hours.
Make the fans wait.

Collectors don't go to shops like that.

They go to specialized galleries,
and Paris doesn't have tons.

Maybe I should
go to the Comédie-Française.

The Comédie-Française?

An urge to see a play at 10 a.m.?

Because of the murder.
They're questioning the actors.

You're an actor
with the Comédie-Française?

Yes.

And now there's a murder?
In addition to the kidnapping business?

One of the kidnappers was a cop.

It's all mixed up. Sorry.

We're not going to the theater.

You're not getting nabbed again.
No getting abducted by a rotten cop.

I know someone in a gallery.
We'll try to find your guy

and you'll deal with the rest later.

You're a bit of an oddball,
do you realize that?

I'm not usually like this.

Too bad, coz it makes you look...

Like a crazy mythomaniac?

No, a little off-kilter,
and it suits you.

You like people with problems?

That must be it.

Hi.

Claire! How are you?

Good, and you?

- I haven't read your album yet.
- No worries.

I've come with a friend who needs info.

Go ahead.

Actually, I'm looking for

a collector...

He has a large house in the Paris area.

He's in his sixties...

- Maybe more...
- That's not very precise.

Sorry, I don't even know your name.

- Martin.
- You're not clear, Martin.

We'll never find your guy.
What'd he look like exactly?

What, precisely, was in his collection?

I mean, were there original editions?

Rare albums?

Framed plates on the wall? Drawings?

Yes, there were...

black and white plates on the wall.

And there were...

Mice, or rats I think.
Rodents, in any case.

But dressed in city clothes.

But not all of them.

Sorry. My memory's foggy this morning.

Rats in city clothes. Mice...

Mickey Mouse!

No! I'd have recognized that.

It's a French comic, or maybe Belgian.

- The Smurfs?
- Smurfs? With rodents?

- I have work to do.
- Yes.

Rodents...

I know! Chlorophylle? Sybilline?

Yes, maybe...

The author of Chlorophylle

is Raymond Macherot.
A well-known artist.

- Can you show me a drawing by him?
- Yes.

Actor Martin Rémi still wanted
after the death of Vladimir Mstislavich

- Yes! That's it!
- Ok, Macherot.

That's pretty specialized.
I'd never have thought...

Do you know people who collect him?

There's only one big Macherot collector.

Joseph Van Damme.

He's Belgian, but he has a house
near Rambouillet, I believe.

Clothilde?

Be right back.

Rambouillet...

- We're outta here.
- What?

We're gone. This feels bad.

Really?

You're so neurotic. I love it.

Gotta find a cab. Quick!

Wait! Look!

You're a wanted man!

That's just it!

You coming?

Come on!

The bastards! They reported you!

How dare they!

Here.
A Macherot collector, blablabla...

Also a European Commission bigwig.

Head of cyber security
for the European Commission.

That's not Van Damme!

He's the Van Damme
who collects Macherot.

He's posing in front of his house.
Is that it?

It's the right house
and the right collection.

But the wrong man.

This is getting really weird.

I have to crouch over.
I feel a vaso-vagal episode coming on.

You're already crouched.

I have to crouch more.

I just had Mom on the phone.
In tears. BRAVO

She pisses me off!

I can't go home,
I can't go to the theater.

I'm really up the creek.

All you can do is go to Brussels.

Brussels? You nuts? I can't even get up.

I'm thinking out loud.
Trying to be creative.

Finding Van Damme
is the only thing that makes sense.

Well, yeah.

Other than hide out for 5 years.

- What a bitch!
- Who d'you mean?

- My sister.
- Oh, ok.

We haven't spoken in 10 years.
A real bitch.

My mom wants a family dinner.
Sheer hell.

Now my sister's pressuring me.
It's horrible.

Ok. Hang on, I'll...

I think I'll hide out after all.

I'm zonked.
I need to sleep for 2 days.

When I'm worked up, I have to move.
To the train station.

Got a bike card?

You ok?

Yeah.

You ok?

Oh my god!

I don't know what it is.
I'm even spacier than this morning.

They gave me a shot last night.

Don't worry, I'm here.
Go on, Martin.

Go on!

That's it.

You ok?

What'd they give you?

Best actor for Martin Rémi.

Turns out he was a double agent.
Documents found...

- You ok?
- Yeah, I'm alright.

What the...?

Are you alright?

I'm ok.

- I'm fine.
- No you're not.

I just had a little...

- I'm going with you to Brussels.
- Your book signing!

- Yes?
- They're expecting you.

We're on our way.

I'm listening.

We're trying to move fast,

but there are still missing pieces.

The wiretaps
and digital surveillance indicate

that the main operation
will take place in Budapest next week.

Vladimir Mstislavich's murder
at the theater

is likely a prelude to what's to come.

We think Mstislavich figured out
who in the troupe was Hartz's agent

and how Anthracite
would be handed over in Budapest.

Is Anthracite the prototype
the Chinese are to deliver to Hartz?

Yes.

When will you be sure?

It's tricky.

Hartz knows his organization
is being watched.

For 3 weeks

Green Perfume has gone silent.

Yes?

They've just boarded
the 12:35 for Brussels.

Ok, thank you.

Brussels? What the hell for?

Our man is in their car.

We're in constant contact.

There you go.

Thanks.

So...

- Vlad's murder.
- Not so loud!

Vlad's murder.

For whom? Why?

What's the connection to Van Damme?

Who is the fake Van Damme
who hosted you?

And who is

the lady

who injected you

with the drug?

Excuse me, there's no likeness at all.

I didn't see them. You didn't take pics.
It's all we have.

Ok, but I find that confusing.

34, 36. Here we are, sweetie.

Hello.

Sit down.

I wanted to sit there!

We'll see about that later, sweet pea.

Sit down.

It's not here.

How about this instead?

No! It's not Red Cuddly!

I'll text Mommy. She'll send it to us.

I promise it'll be there when we arrive.

What are we gonna do?

Look at all these toys.

- Shit, my divorce!
- What about it?

We were signing it today.
Shit! I didn't tell my lawyer.

Don't be so neurotic. It won't help.
Your divorce can wait.

No heart attacks before Brussels.

What's the problem?

Tell me. What is it?
Are you a stressed-out Ashkenazi?

An Ashkenazi with high blood pressure?

Both. I've been on blood pressure meds
since age 19, so I'm ok.

As for being Ashkenazi, it's terminal.

Look at the guy over there.

Look at his shoes. They're combat boots.

Yes.

Well, they're combat boots.

And?

They're combat boots!

So you're a paranoid Ashkenazi.

Think he's an SS disguised as a lawyer
coming to arrest you?

Excuse me, but a businessman

with a legionnaire's shoes and hair
is suspicious.

So I'm a paranoid Ashkenazi.
It's served me well. Paranoiacs survive.

Jewish Girl Guide?

Yeah. Why?

You look like a scoutmaster.
I had activity leaders like you.

Were you a Jewish Scout, too?

Yeah, but I quit at 13.
I was sick of not washing and soggy TP.

What a sissy.

Which local troop?

Paris 9th district. You?

Strasbourg.

- You're here.
- I wanted to sit there!

Ok, I'm beat.

I need to rest or I might faint again.

Thank you for everything.

But,

can you keep a lookout?

Get some rest.

Let me out! Yes, your leg.

Don't put it under mine.

I'm going to the buffet car
for a bite to eat. I'm starving.

I'll stay here and sleep. Or pretend to.

Wait. In the trench coat!

The one who just walked by. There!

Yeah, in the trench coat. I saw.

She was at the Comédie-Française
yesterday, walking weirdly fast.

Do you know that lady?

Is she your wife?

You stay here. I'll be back.
I'm feeling better.

Where'd you find that?

Where'd you find it?

Excuse me?

I'm asking where he found the photo.

None of your business, sir.

Sorry, it's very important.

I really don't care.
Speak to me first.

You're right. Sorry.

- Where'd you find it?
- The trash back there.

Thank you.

Where's your girlfriend?

Is she hiding so you won't find her?

Leave the man alone.

- Want a cookie?
- I don't like them!

You don't? You started it earlier.

I tasted and I don't like it.

- This? It's very good.
- No.

There you are!

- The woman vanished.
- Vanished?

I mean, I lost her.
Some fellow gave her an envelope.

- Where is he?
- In the legionnaire's seat.

- Who's the legionnaire?
- The guy with the wrong shoes.

That's not all!

Hello.

Tickets, please.

Thank you.

Thank you. Have a good trip.

What's not all?

I found the envelope
the guy gave the woman.

- No way?
- Yes!

She must've read it and trashed it.

Show me.

So this is the real Van Damme.

She's a hitwoman. He's her target.

And she must've killed Vlad.

And this is a drawing...

Yeah. Show me.

What is it?

I know this drawing.

It's a Kandinsky.
At the Pompidou Center.

It has a strange title.

"Grüner Duft."

Why give her a Kandinsky
she immediately ditches?

- Here.
- This is where she vanished?

Yup, this is it.
She couldn't go farther, in any case.

What does "Grüner Tuft" mean?

"Duft."

"Duft" means... smell.

"Gruner" means green.

So, green smell.

Green smell...

Green perfume?

Green perfume!

What about it?

Let's go to the buffet car.

- Anything else?
- No, thank you.

- By card.
- That'll be 16 euros.

Thanks.

Thank you.

"Green perfume"
were Vlad's last words.

He said, "I've been murdered." No...

"It's murder," or something.
Then, "green perfume" and he died.

That's a code.

It confirms an order,
gives a green light for an operation.

What's the plan in Brussels?

European Quarter to warn Van Damme.

Ok, we grab a cab and haul ass.

- I wonder what the troupe thinks?
- The troupe?

At the Comédie-Française.
Do they suspect me?

We're touring Hungary next week.
Don't know if I can go.

I should call Vlad's husband
and Caroline, but my phone's gone.

Want mine?

There's your legionnaire!

Go on!

Blow!

Bigger. It's tiny!

The woman in a trench coat!

Let's follow her.

Where is she? There!

I'm pregnant!

She's pregnant!
Please, outta the way!

She stopped.

She stopped!

Stop here.

Mr. Van Damme, please.

- Have an appointment?
- It's an emergency.

Without an appointment...

He's going to be murdered.

Excuse me?

Please, call him fast!

The guy from the train!

Mr. Van Damme's life's in danger!

His killer is there on the stairs.

Get him!
A hitwoman's already here!

Where's the risk in believing us?

Want his death on your conscience?
There we go!

Yes, Benoît? There's an emergency.

Two strange people are in the building.

They say Mr. Van Damme's in danger.

There!

The woman's there!

I'll be ok.

Freeze!

Don't move!

Good evening.

Follow me.

You'll be sleeping here tonight.

The house is under police surveillance.

Stay inside for you own safety.

The rooms are upstairs.

We'll come back in the morning
to chat.

Meanwhile, get some rest.

Here is your cell phone.

And the corresponding charger.

Thank you, but how'd you get it?

Don't ask too many questions.

Or expect too many answers.

Have a nice evening.

Grégoire, it's Martin.

It might be late to call.

I imagine the police
explained my absence. I hope they did.

I don't know what to say.

I'm devastated.

I'm all by myself and...

I realize I'll never see Vlad again.

That we'll never see Vlad again.

You're in my thoughts.

Don't hesitate to call back,
even during the night.

Martin, it's me.

You scared me!

You ok?

The bullet didn't hit the bone.

It hurts like hell, but I'll be alright.

I'm so hungry!

Shit! Gotta text my mom,
but my battery's dead.

Here. I got my cell back.

Why not call her instead?

Hell, no. I came to Brussels
to get out of dinner with her.

I'd rather get shot in the leg
than hear her explain

why I shouldn't have skipped dinner
with her and my sister.

There. Moving on!

- What is there?
- It's not bad.

Fancy stuff from the caterer,
like hummus,

baba ghanoush, bulgur...

Yum! I'm so hungry!

- Want some hummus?
- No more hummus for me.

Too many summers in Israel?

I came back 2 years ago
after 20 years.

Really?

Isn't there any real food?
Mezze platters get old fast.

- Want me to make pasta?
- Great!

I can't be bothered.

- Why'd you leave?
- What? The hospital?

No, why come back to France?

I dunno.

I think I missed Europe.

Europe? Does it really exist?

At first I was happy in Israel.
I like Israelis.

I'd had enough
of those right-minded French

who snub you if your roots don't go back
800 years in the same place.

Let's see.

Relax! Let me do it.

A dirty look won't make the water boil.

I'm just so hungry!

Have some stuffed vine leaves.
They're yummy.

You're nuts! That's not food.

I dunno, it's dark out, I got shot.

Fuck their oriental snacks!

These French spies are morons.

- So, Europe...
- What about it?

You missed Europe.

- You don't seem interested.
- I am.

Then I'll give you the short version.

Anyway, we won't get any sleep tonight.

You're right about that.

At first, it was the usual thing:

I wanted to go
because I felt I was part of a history,

a fate, that of the Jews.

And Israel was the place to be.

Yet I'd been warned.
I was told life was tough there:

The Israelis aren't friendly,
they're rude,

there are bombings,
tension due to war and occupation.

And the state doesn't help you fit in.

Make at least a half a pound.

I'll make a whole pot,

because if I don't, I might want some.

Keep going.

So little by little,
I felt at home there.

I was a left-wing activist,
I learned Hebrew and Arabic.

Of course we always lost,
every battle, every election...

But it's the same the world over.

When you're a leftist,

you go from one defeat to the next

with great romantic fervor.

There's olive tomato sauce. Ok?

Sounds great!

And?

And...

Look, I don't know.

In the late 2000s,
I realized something wasn't jelling...

wasn't jelling for me there.

I dunno. As if after all

I wasn't really
in my place there either.

- You missed France.
- No.

I didn't give a damn about France.

I think it was really Europe
that I missed, actually.

It was Europe
as an intellectual space.

A locus of debate.

It was my intellectual,
emotional, political space,

between London,

Berlin, Amsterdam and Naples.

You don't understand a thing.

What?

I get the feeling you don't understand.

Because I'm cooking?

No, because you don't seem to get it.

I do. I'm not totally stupid.

I play Shakespeare,
Molière, Brecht, Goldoni...

I know what Europe is.

I guess so.

I got the feeling Israel

was the consequence
of a great European civil war

and that it was gradually
coming into its own. That was nice.

But Israel is no longer very European,
and I was done with it.

I was lost for the cause.
I was too European, in fact.

My comic is about all that.

I sold 72 copies, by the way.

- Did you have a guy there?
- Lots of guys.

I mean,
I had 2 or 3 serious relationships.

But it only takes a few snags...

And you find yourself at 40 with no guy

and no kids.

Actually, I never really wanted kids.

If I'd had a family,
things would be different.

It would've cramped my style.

Oh well...

- What do you consider snags?
- What?

The snags that kept you from marrying.

Sorry, I don't mean to be nosy.

It's just that...

My relationships suck.
I'm divorcing after a year, so...

When you say "snags,"
tell me more.

I never really thought about it.

And I didn't say
my relationships sucked.

My relationships are real crap.

I don't know what to say.
I'm sorry to hear that.

Any pasta left?

Yep. Coming up.

Thanks.

I'm listening.

It's not that I feel
like I have a problem.

My romances go south
because I'm unlucky.

I've always been lucky in life,
but in love it's the opposite.

I never should've gotten
into drama school.

Same goes for the Comédie-Française.
I'm a very average actor.

Even in general, I've been lucky.

Flings with girls have always been easy.

But in love, as soon as it gets serious,

I always fall for the wrong girl.

It's wild how wrong I was about my wife.

So you think you've been lucky in life,
except in love?

Yes. That about sums it up:
Except in love, I've been lucky.

Well, savor it, because as for luck...

If I were you,
I wouldn't be so sure now.

At least we've met.

I'm falling asleep.

Good morning!

We have to talk,

and I have to be in Paris by noon,
so it's now.

An unknown caller.

Then answer.

Hello?

Wait. I don't follow you.
Say that again?

Someone wants her daughter.

Relax. It's my mother.
Hand me the phone.

Hello?

Can't you leave me alone?

Yes, I'm fine!

I'll call you back.

I'll call back.

I'll call you back!

Bring them coffee.

What did Vladimir Mstislavich say
before dying?

Sorry to be so direct.

He said it was murder.

Is that all?

He also said, "green perfume."

Had you heard those words before?

Not together.

Ms. Cahen, please leave me alone
with Mr. Rémi.

Excuse me?

I'm asking you to leave us alone.

Don't pretend not to understand.

No, she's not leaving.

She risked her life.

She figured things out well before me,
perhaps before you.

She almost got killed, so she stays.

She totally agrees. She's not leaving.

She risked her life,
her leg is killing her,

so she stays.

I just lost one of my best friends.

It may not show, but I'm furious.

So tell me what's going on.

In the presence of Claire...

Cahen.

Claire Cahen.

I have specific questions.

For instance, that Superintendent Fanch.

Why'd he try to pin it on me?

Wrap up the report on the girl.
You have 30 minutes.

Get ready to leave soon.

Superintendent Fanch
was found dead in his car at 5 a.m.

You said you were furious. Why?

My best friend was killed,
the cops tried to pin it on me,

people threatened me
and tried to kill me. Want more?

What's "green perfume"?

A European organization

funded by Russia and far-right groups
in the US and Europe.

It aims to poison Europe
through relations in the media,

politics and academia.

It secretly runs YouTube channels
and Twitter accounts.

It manipulates conspiracy websites

with a supposedly unconventional outlook

on current events, in Syria especially.

Wait. Sorry.

Their strike force today is huge.

Their ringleader is Dr. Hartz,
a Budapest-based Austrian.

Former advisor to the Syrian president.
He abducted you.

He specializes in
the digital manipulation of information.

He's 2-3 years ahead of everyone
in the field.

Green Perfume
wanted to murder Joseph Van Damme

to intimidate the EU,
to say "Stop investigating our methods."

Van Damme, sure, but Vlad?

We were working
with Vladimir Mstislavich.

He was investigating Green Perfume
because

the organization
had long infiltrated the troupe.

The troupe? That's ludicrous!

You regularly tour abroad, don't you?

Yes, occasionally, anyway.

Tours can be used to slip things
out of the country discreetly

and to meet people.

Mstislavich had probably
unmasked the agent and was killed.

Wow, the Comédie-Française...
What a vibe!

Please get in.

Your Budapest tour next week

is when Green Perfume
will retrieve a software prototype

designed to exponentially multiply
the spreading of fake news

on social media
and in the public space.

The object's code name is Anthracite.
It was developed in China.

We did a Feydeau in Shanghai last month.

You see?

You understand.

It seems the actor or actress
working for Green Perfume

will be giving Hartz the object
the night of your performance.

We need you to identify that person.

We'll intercept the transfer
and secure Anthracite.

What about Hartz?

We can't touch him yet.

Why?

Inter-agency agreements.
It's complicated.

He had Vlad killed!

I'm sorry. This is outside ordinary law.

It isn't a personal vendetta.
At least, not yet.

Our mission is to retrieve Anthracite

before Green Perfume gets to it.

Obviously, there's a risk for you.

Judging from the last few days,
it's likely they want you dead.

We will ensure your protection.

Has your divorce gone through?

No, not yet.

Remember, the Green Perfume operative
could be anyone.

Our agents will protect you
on the train.

But our man on the Paris-Brussels
was killed during the trip.

I just had a massive panic attack.
I must be at 200/120.

I'm eyeing the emergency brake.

But barefoot in a German forest
is no better.

How are you?

I can't sleep with my leg.
The berths are crappy.

I was thinking back on Europe.

Actually, it freaks me out.
Especially Central Europe.

Germany, Austria, Hungary, even Poland.

Like I'm being taken to Auschwitz.
I'm so anxious I'm suicidal.

Three years ago, we did Krakow.
My family's from there.

I landed, had a panic attack
and took the plane back to Paris.

Budapest isn't so bad, but...

the countryside, the forest...
Can't handle it.

It's my mother.

Texting me at 3 a.m.
to recommend a Jewish dating site.

- Is she an insomniac?
- Totally.

She hounds me every two months.

That's it. I'm blocking her.
Phone quarantine.

I constantly have to.
She's out of control.

Yeah, quarantine sounds good.

Come here.

Do you speak French?

I'll check the stage.
You check the theater if you like?

Ok.

Well?

How are they supposed to communicate?

What're you doing?

A musical score.

Musical score, right.

The Theatre of Illusion

Like a musical score...

- What?
- I don't know.

Like a musical score.

- Like a musical score!
- What about it?

I know how they're going to communicate.

How? Go ahead.

From the stage.

The actor on stage will indicate
to the agent in the audience

where Anthracite is located.

After having hidden it
somewhere in advance.

No direct contact.

From the stage in front of everyone?
That makes no sense. How?

I don't know.
By changing the text slightly.

Or by discreetly inserting

a mistake or a code between two verses.

The traitor will be the one
who makes a voluntary mistake

on a little detail,

and through that mistake
give Hartz a precise indication.

We have to talk to Louise.

Admit it's obvious!
There's no other solution.

Yeah, lemme mull it over.

We'll have to follow the text
from somewhere. You'll be busy.

Here's the text.

Don't take your eyes off it, ok?

Ok.

See you later.

What on earth?

15, 20 goons just for him.
The guy's paranoid.

The system's acting up.

Be right back.

For Vlad.

"...Then heal this father's
deep unhappiness.

As an old friend,
I feel for his distress.

Like me, in Rennes
he spent his young days

He showed me kindness
in so many ways,

There his son, in age my peer,

Became a friend
both intimate and dear.

Enough, Dorante.

What brings him here, I know.

That son's the reason
for this present woe.

Old man,

was not his leaving home

the source of your incessant pain
and just remorse?

Did not stubborn strictness on your part
Drive him away,

and break your heart?

And do you not,
repenting what you've done,

Search everywhere

for your maltreated son?

O modern oracle, to whom all is plain,

I could not hide from you
my guilt and pain.

You know my unjust rigor
all too well.

Where one must prosper
by one's wits, or drown.

As a public scrivener
work he first found."

Shit!

"Sir.

- What is it, Page?
- A courier.

- Who sent him?
- The Queen of Iceland.

Great God!

That queen's become an awful pest.

Less charm would be welcome,
and more rest.

Let her forget me, as I told her to.

See what this warrior's
given up for you?

I doubt no longer.

It's just as he described.

In vain she tempts me,
I will not be bribed.

Whatever foolish plans
are in her head,

I'll pen a letter to stop them dead.

Farewell, my queen.

And lend an ear
to my young friend here."

Everything ok

Yes. Still no mistakes in the text?

No, nothing.
Maybe it's something else.

Hartz is riveted to his text
with a penlight,

I'm having trouble in the dark

Anything?

No, nothing to report.

Wait.

A body's been found.

Stay here.

"At last, the end is near.

A venal magistrate

Shall rule tomorrow
that we must immolate

My lover to the villain who was bent
On killing him.

It's revenge, not punishment.

Tomorrow, by a harsh, unjust decree,

My father's hate shall gain the victory,

Together with the dead man's
wealth and station,

I shall know despair and desolation.

Alas!

How many bitter foes...

'The other day,' you say,
and you're still here?

You've found the stalwart captain!
Where?

I just now met him,
coming down the stair.

The other day, in lieu of my affection,
I promised you protection.

And then?

Rascals began to brawl,
You sought your quarters to avoid it all,

To protect you, I came close behind.

You had my safety fearlessly in mind."

You seem to live in the wings.

Can't keep your eyes off Caroline?

"- And stayed there?
- Yes.

In terms less diplomatic,
I'd say you fled in terror

to the attic.

- Terror?
- You're trembling.

It's obvious.

Fear is my war horse, my Bucephalus.

This proud mount

on its back but one king tolerates."

- Are you certain?
- Beyond a doubt.

Ok, I've been told the same.
We'll arrest him in the wings.

- When's he go offstage?
- In less than a minute.

"This dainty dish can't keep one alive:
Only gods could thrive.

One bite and in two winks
The teeth grow long, the belly shrinks.

In short,

ambrosia's not your cup of tea.

And so

I've come downstairs each night to see

Kitchen scraps may combine
human nutriment with the divine.

You were on your way to steal,
just now?

You..."

Stay here!

Where's Claire Cahen?
I can't find her.

No idea.

I'm busy.
We might arrest Hartz.

I'm waiting for the go-ahead.

She must be around.
When'd you last see her?

You're turning this circus
into a hostage-taking?

A hostage-taking!

Let's not exaggerate.

You will all be crushed
by the weight of your arrogance,

your certainty
of being smarter than the rest.

Who do you mean by "you"?

You know very well.

She'll tell us when the coast is clear.
It shouldn't be long.

The girl, no need to take her hostage.
We'll leave her here

with a bullet in the head.

Claire!

Seen Martin Rémi and Claire Cahen?

What a family of wackos!

I have to unquarantine my mother.

There.

Say you were with a Jewish dentist
you met on her app. That'll mollify her.

Nothing mollifies her.

We still don't know where Anthracite is.

Not in Hartz's hands, anyway.

But since the message came from onstage,

maybe another Green Perfume agent
in the audience

also wanted to get their hands on it.

Such pessimism is incredible!

Let's go.

When you're a pessimist,
you're always pleasantly surprised.

No way!
Pessimists hope for the worst.

Anthracite