Original subtitles

Marius!

The girl’s sick.

Bring the rum.

Where is the boy?

- Marius! - It’s young Fanny.

- What’s wrong? - She’s sick!

What’s wrong with her?

Honorine!

Come down, Honorine!

Send these people away.

If you please –

Oh, my God! My little girl!

It’s nothing, Norine.

Come in here. Oh, God, my beauty!

My sugarplum!

Get out, this isn’t some show!

What happened?

She fainted because Marius has gone to sea.

- He’s gone to sea? - Yes, on the Malaisie.

- The ship that’s left for five years? - Yes.

Does César know his son has left?

He has no idea.

All hell will break loose.

Full steam reverse. Let’s be going, beauty.

- You too, Panisse. - I think I should stay.

She’s talking.

It’s nothing serious.

- Have you seen Marius? - Not since this morning.

He must be with a pal of his.

I won’t tell him. The day’s too beautiful.

I can tell you. It’s almost official.

Marius and Fanny are getting married.

Don’t be upset. I know everything.

In a fit of madness, you proposed to her.

It’s bound to put you out.

- Well? - Her color’s back.

Good.

Now, tell me why you made her faint.

I didn’t do a thing!

Just imagine it. Her mother a widow –

I know you didn’t kill your husband.

No man in the family and poor to boot –

- Who’s poor? - Let me speak.

No man in the family and almost penniless,

she’s to marry a fine young man, my son,

who will own a magnificent bar, mine.

She fainted for joy. Only natural.

We’re honored to join your family!

We were waiting for you to eat.

I never said that!

Look at your father-in-law.

A loudmouth insulting your mother!

Don’t argue. There’s no sense in it. He’s gone.

Who’s gone?

Marius. He’s gone away.

What are you saying?

He’s gone, César. He’s left us.

Where has he gone?

He left on the Malaisie today.

For five years.

What are you saying?

He’d wanted to leave for so long.

He was passionate about ships. They obsessed him.

He found a place on the Malaisie.

He abandoned you after all that? You call that honest?

He’d have stayed if I’d wanted.

He’d have stayed because of me.

But it was too hard for him.

His desire for the sea was killing him.

So, this morning, I told him

I didn’t want him anymore.

That I no longer loved him.

He’s gone!

Leaving already?

Yes, Ninette can sell my fish.

Fanny’s poorly. I’ll do her shellfish.

Is she very poorly?

She’s not well.

She won’t eat, she’s as pale as church candle.

What if she died? My God, my little girl!

Norine! Come on, no one dies of love.

Someone can kill you for love with a gun

but otherwise people forget.

No, not always.

I’ve known two people who died of love.

Out of modesty, they said they were ill

but it was love all right.

Why’s he pacing up and down?

He’s waiting for the postman, all day, every day.

His son writes daily and he’s eager to read the letter.

He’s still waiting for his first letter.

Precisely!

He won’t talk about it. He keeps all his grief inside.

It ferments and swells and chokes him.

It’s like a tapeworm. It has to be forced out.

Let’s make him confide in us.

- It won’t be easy. - But we can try.

He won’t eat us.

Go on, Honoré.

- Me? - Why not?

- You’ll back me up? - Of course!

Let’s go then.

Waiting for someone?

Why would I be waiting for someone?

I don’t know.

Even so, César, you seem to be waiting for the postman.

The postman? Why would I be waiting for the postman?

I don’t know.

Maybe he has a letter from your son.

Right, Panisse?

Enough, Félix. Stay out of my family business.

I don’t ask about your wife and the Yacht Club chairman.

- I didn’t know about that one. - It’s not true, Félix.

I don’t want to know.

Be as discreet and don’t talk to me about Marius.

You too, Mr. Two-Face.

- I did nothing. - Me neither.

No, but the way you do nothing forces a fellow to confide in you!

Not at all, César.

I see it in everyone’s eyes.

Even those of passersby. You all pity me.

I know what you say when I’m not around.

You say, “He cries at night in that empty house,

he neglects his bar,

he waits for news from his son who never writes

and it’s breaking his heart.”

Well, since you think such things,

since you care about a triviality that I never think about,

I’ll explain to you once and for all.

Just now, you asked if I was waiting for the postman.

No, I wasn’t.

If a boy has had the courage to abandon his old father

and not write to him once in 59 days,

he’s not likely to write on the 60th.

He couldn’t write before their first stop in Port Said.

According to the papers,

the Malaisie left Port Said 12 days ago!

A letter takes two weeks to arrive.

A mail boat does the trip in nine days.

But not every day.

- You think so? - I’m sure of it.

Why waste time talking about this?

I’m not interested.

You’re not interested?

Not in the slightest.

Just suppose the boy decided to write to his dad every day.

Just a note to tell him,

“I’m well and think of you. You must be sad –”

Et cetera.

Suppose every evening

he put the letters aside

and posted them all on arriving in Port Said.

Suppose the postman came in now and said,

“Here you are, Mr. César,”

and gave me six pounds of mail, enough for a whole night

reading each letter three times.

Well, I’d take the packet,

put it under the counter

and wouldn’t even open it

because I’m not interested!

Enough.

We know you loved your son.

I’m not saying that.

I was very fond of the boy.

But not after what he did.

- Deep down, what did he do? - Deep down?

Deep down?

- Hell’s bells! - Yes, what did he do?

What he did is he left!

At 20 he couldn’t?

Not without telling me!

That’s true. It wasn’t polite.

- And if he’d told you? - I’d have stopped him.

By kicking his behind?

You bet! I’d have put him off the sea for life.

César, with all due respect,

you’re a very selfish fellow.

If he wants to sail, you can’t stop him.

If he wants to sail, let him!

Anywhere but on the water!

- Where then? - Not on the sea!

He can sail like you.

In the old harbor, or on rivers or on ponds, or –

Or nowhere, damn it!

Who needs to sail to live?

Does Mr. Panisse sail?

No, he’s not that stupid.

He makes sails.

He makes sails so the wind carries off other men’s children.

I’m not waiting till doomsday!

Let me measure it!

- You’re not serious? - You bet I am.

We’re playing boules.

- Mine’s winning. - I’ll shoot it.

I’m in a hurry!

Quiet! He’s concentrating.

Incredible.

Shoot it.

Lucky devil!

Well done, captain! At 25 yards.

Captain, I respect you.

You respect a cheat? He took four steps!

- I took four steps? - Maybe even five!

I swear I didn’t.

I don’t play with a cheat.

César, come back!

No! It starts with theft

and ends with poisoning.

If I had a dog, I wouldn’t feed it your wife’s fish soup!

Got something to say?

Which of you liars will speak?

Don’t say a word, Mr. Brun!

Good day, gentlemen.

My jacket!

One day off a week and you invite that lout!

Ever since his son left, he’s been impossible.

That’s true. He’s going from bad to worse.

He may even die of grief.

No, he won’t die, Mr. Brun. But he’ll go mental.

That’s for sure!

And Fanny will lose her mind.

Don’t be overdramatic. Fanny is young.

She has suitors. She’ll get over it.

Yes, youth overcomes everything.

Youth maybe.

But César?

- Toussaint Bighetti! - Yes!

Letter for you.

- Coming down? - No, come up.

- Tripette! - He’s moved out!

Anything for me? Fanny Cabanis?

Nothing for you today again.

Any mail for me at my mother’s fish stall?

I left her a flyer for a store.

- That’s all? - For today, it is.

It’s not my fault. I just deliver the letters.

I have one for César.

And it comes from Port Said.

Thank you, Mr. Postman! I’ll take it to him.

Bandoloni!

Ange Pietri!

A letter from Port Said! César, it’s heavy.

So?

César.

It’s from Marius. It says so on the back.

So?

César, read it.

Quick, read it.

The soft-drinks’ congress in Toulon –

I won’t miss that.

Come on, César!

What? You’ll prevent me from going, maybe?

Of course not. It’s news from your son –

César, open the letter.

Make the girl happy.

You’re that keen to hear from that unnatural navigator?

I’m not.

He’s dying to read it but won’t do it in front of us.

- Let’s just leave. - Good idea.

Good idea? You’re not moving.

You want it all without paying.

Show some modesty and discretion.

What modesty?

He’s right, Félix. Come on.

You’re pale. You should see a doctor.

What for?

He’ll tell you if you’re anemic.

He’ll restore your appetite.

Mother will panic.

Why not go alone?

Go to see my doctor, Dr. Venelle. Go one afternoon.

I can give you money.

Thank you, Panisse, I have money.

Fear not. There’ll be news for you in it.

I don’t think so.

But you hope so.

Love can be so silly.

It’s not silly, but it’s bad.

Don’t worry.

César is learning the letter

to recite to the whole city.

Fanny! Come on!

He’s well! Read it to me.

You see.

“My dear father...

forgive me for the way I’ve hurt you.

You must be sad since I left. I think of you every night.”

I think of you all day long, idiot!

“I can’t describe how the madness

came over me.

Ask Fanny. She saw what it was like.”

Madness is the word all right. I’m glad he admits it.

“Now, let me tell you about my life.

At first, I worked as a galley boy.”

A galley boy! Imagine that.

The food must have been terrible!

“But, after a few days,

they replaced me with an injured man.

I took his place on deck.”

This is where it gets nasty.

“I didn’t write sooner

because, on arriving in Port Said, we had problems.

A sailor had died.

They thought it was plague and put us in quarantine.”

Plague! Imagine that.

Plague on his ship!

When another boy had mumps, I’d keep him at home.

Now he wallows in plague.

Up to his neck in it!

- But he didn’t catch it. - Marius, Marius.

You’ll drive us mad with worry!

I’m all right, carry on.

“The doctors opened up the poor fellow.

It wasn’t plague.”

Good!

“We’ve been released to set off for Aden.

This journey is wonderful.

Unfortunately, we didn’t stop on the way.

We passed a number of islands

and the city of Athens,

the great fortress of the Romans.”

You can see he’s with scholars!

“I’m well.

I like my new life very much.

I handle oceanographic apparatus.”

Too big a word for me.

“We’re measuring the depths of the Indian Ocean.”

The boy couldn’t measure an aperitif properly

and now he’s measuring the deep.

“The scientists are kind to me.”

Only natural.

The next bit’s for you.

“All is well with me.

I hope my letter finds you well and Fanny too.”

He’s thinking of you.

“Give me news of her health –”

“Her health.” You see?

“of her marriage to that good man Panisse.

She’ll be very happy with him. Tell her that from me.”

“From me.” You see?

“Write to me in my name,

on board the Malaisie, in Aden.

With all the love in my heart. Your son, Marius.”

“Your son, Marius.”

There’s a PS.

“Don’t worry, I’m in my element here.”

He’s happy.

He’s left the two of us here and he’s delighted.

What can I say, Fanny dear?

That’s the way he is.

He can’t have much free time.

And it’s not easy to write at sea. It moves all the time.

But he could have written a sweeter word for me

and above all for you.

Perhaps, just as he was writing a long sentence,

something sentimental,

they fetched him to measure the oceanographic.

I can’t explain it otherwise.

It’s his first letter. There’ll be others.

Come on, Fanny dear, let’s reply.

My hand’s too thick for a pen, so you write.

We’ll do it in the kitchen.

- Hello. - We’re closed, sir.

- Why? - For reasons of correspondence.

My dear child...

I receive your first letter at last.

It’s not a long one.

I hope for 10 or even 20 pages next time.

What you say about the scientists is very interesting.

But when you measure the depths, don’t lean out too far

as you could fall overboard.

And where it’s too deep,

let the others measure it.

I know Marius, you see.

One day, we went fishing with Panisse.

He leant out too far. Man overboard!

His head was heavier than his behind.

That’s changed since then.

Where were we? Read it back to me.

- “...let the others measure it.” - That’s right.

Underline “others.” Nice and thick.

If someone on board has plague,

talk to him from a distance and avoid him,

even if he’s your best friend.

Friendship is a wonderful thing

but plague is the end of the world.

Everything is well here

apart from the rage that has been with me ever since you left.

Young Fanny

isn’t very well.

She hardly eats a thing now. She’s very pale.

Everyone has noticed. People say,

“She’ll lose her mind and César will go off his rocker.”

Honorine gives me murderous looks.

When I look at her,

I feel she’s going to shoot a gun at me.

And that makes me shudder for my life.

Why have you stopped?

There’s no need to tell him that. It’ll only upset him.

And he didn’t upset us?

There’s no sense in paying it back.

Maybe you’re right. What are we going to put then?

Let me write it for you.

No, tell me first.

Young Fanny is the same as usual.

Her wedding to Panisse isn’t planned but I may not know everything.

That’s excellent.

Now and then, we talk about you on the terrace.

At night, when it’s quiet,

Escartefigue chats to Panisse or Mr. Brun

and you don’t seem so far away,

as if you’d gone to the station to fetch her baskets,

and that you’ll soon appear at the door

in your little straw boater

with your kerchief around your neck.

Why isn’t she at her stall this morning?

She’s had herself replaced again!

Listen, sister dear,

if she wants to work, you tell her to take a day off,

and when she goes for a walk,

then you complain!

- Expecting someone? - No.

Fancy that, it’s Mr. Panisse!

Yes, it’s me. Hello, ladies.

- Hello. - How are you?

Very well. And you?

Not bad at all. You’re looking lovely today.

No, you’re the handsome one.

I was at a friend’s wedding. I had to dress up.

You wear it well.

A suit always looks good.

But my outfit’s elegant, not me.

Don’t say that, Panisse.

Not every man can wear a suit. But you can.

Isn’t that right?

Have a seat, Mr. Panisse.

Get a liqueur for Mr. Panisse.

So, was it a pretty wedding?

It was charming. And moving too.

Above all for me.

The groom was a widower, like me.

And more or less my age, like me.

And he married a lovely young girl.

Yes, his cashier. A very young girl.

He was wise to.

Outside the town hall,

some people seemed to be mocking him.

But I feel they were wrong to.

What do you think?

They’re just jealous.

What about you, Honorine?

If the girl’s happy, it’s all well and good.

When a man past 50 wants to marry

and he can offer himself a young girl,

why pick an ugly, old woman?

- So you approve of my friend? - I congratulate him!

And you, Honorine?

Well, if he makes her happy

and ensures her joy and fortune –

Well then –

My dear Honorine,

since I see that common sense reigns here...

I think this is a perfect opportunity to renew a process

whose outcome will be capital for my future.

I want to marry your daughter. You know that.

- May I have her? - Of course you may.

Mind your own business, you!

- You know what happened? - Marius, isn’t it? I know.

He knows, all right?

You don’t know it all. Marius –

Marius is a topic that I’m not too keen on.

Talk about the weather or taxes rather than Marius.

Well, Norine? Your answer?

I’ll bring it to you tomorrow evening.

May I have a little hope?

A lot of hope, Panisse!

Father,

forgive me, I loved him too much.

Make him come back.

Make him bring his child a name.

Holy Virgin,

give me the courage to live.

Give me the strength to tell my mother.

Mademoiselle is here at last.

Where were you, you little madam? You take every day off now?

- Hello, dear. - Hello, Auntie.

What happened? You lost your tongue on your stroll?

It’s not that. She just can’t get a word in edgeways!

So, did you take a walk?

- What are you staring at? - Nothing.

Don’t be a grump. Aunt Claudine’s here for once!

- She’s not a grump. - Look at her face!

Don’t tell her off.

Fanny, help me set the table. I’m hungry. Aren’t you?

- Mom? - What?

I’m having a baby.

What did you say?

I’m having a baby. The doctor just told me.

Oh, my God!

That’s not possible! It can’t be true.

Get out, you deceitful girl! You minx!

If your poor dad was here, he’d kill you! Be gone!

- Where will she go? - She can walk the streets!

Don’t let me see you again!

Go and pack your bags!

Don’t talk nonsense. Shut up, Norine!

She’s worse than Zoé. The shame of the family!

Go or I’ll chase you out with a stick, you hussy!

- Norine! - Fanny!

My God, she’s fainting now!

Quick, get some vinegar!

Shame on you, the condition she’s in. You’ll kill her!

Fanny!

She’s as pale as a corpse!

Fanny. My little Fanny!

My little darling! Don’t die!

Open your eyes. Don’t die!

I forgive you but don’t die!

It’s nothing, Mom. See, it’s over now.

Deep breaths.

God, my heart!

- Walk. - Quick, the chair!

Her color’s back.

You should be blushing and suffocating in shame!

Shut up!

If she faints, you sob, when she’s better you start again!

Leave her be!

Is it normal to come home with a bun in the oven?

Of course not. It’s a huge misfortune.

But it’s not a big surprise.

With a lover, a baby’s easier to come by than a lottery win!

Besides, who’s the father?

- Marius? - Who else?

She hasn’t slept with the whole city yet!

So it’s Marius.

If I could get my hands on him –

It shows the boy has no tact.

Getting her with child means he’s inconsiderate.

But the damage has been done now.

And done properly too.

My little darling.

My little darling, how long have you known?

Ever since he left...

I’d felt out of sorts.

I wasn’t my usual self.

I felt sick every morning.

So I decided to see Dr. Venelle today.

A good doctor. He’s a wise man.

What did he tell you?

That the baby’s due in March.

A fine month. The month of the mad.

Don’t cry, it won’t help.

So what do you plan to do?

Whatever you want, as long as you keep me.

It’s simple then. We’re saved.

Marry Panisse.

Will he still want me?

He asked for you again this morning.

This time, the answer’s yes. A wedding in a fortnight.

I’ll give him the answer myself later.

What do you say?

Me?

Me –

I think I make a good living.

I can work and manage on my own.

If Mom were to allow it,

I’d stay single...

and raise my child until his father comes back.

If he comes back.

It’s a fine plan but far from easy.

Far from easy? Impossible, you mean!

A child alone?

Let’s not waste time on such nonsense!

Mom, Madeleine Cadot had a child without a father.

She’s raising him, she’s happy.

That’s totally different.

The father died before they wed.

Yours swam off as fast as he could

with all his might so as not to marry you.

Listen, Fanny dear,

any family can have a single mother or a slut.

It’s a natural thing.

But it’s impossible in our family because Zoé came first.

So accept Panisse

or we’ll be dishonored and I –

I’ll die of grief because of you!

But will he want me?

We told you, he asked for you again.

- He doesn’t know I’m expecting. - Thank God!

You don’t want me to tell him?

You’d be stupid enough to?

He has a right to know.

She must be mad!

Listen, Fanny, that man is our only hope.

He won’t want to marry two of you.

It’d be criminal not to tell him.

Why tell him since you’re not sure it’s true?

Dr. Venelle told me.

Dr. Venelle’s gaga. He’s 100 years old!

I won’t be dishonest.

A woman is never dishonest with a man.

It’s my fault. Too bad. I have to sort it out.

Panisse is kind, so I should dump a bastard on him?

I couldn’t look at anyone again.

You’re suggesting such a thing?

- Teach us morals now! - Don’t start again.

It’s tragic but we can eat all the same.

- Sit down, Fanny. - I’m not hungry!

You dream of having children

but when you do, they drive you crazy!

The Holy Virgin’s child was no end of trouble.

At least he was a boy.

Are little bastards less cute than other kids?

On the contrary.

They’re often stronger and smarter.

So why are you complaining?

Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Panisse.

You too, ladies.

May I have a word, Panisse?

- Go for lunch, Mrs. Roulieux. - Thank you, sir.

Come next door, it’s more private.

Your mother told you?

Yes, she told me.

You’ve brought me your reply?

And you’re here to say no again.

Too bad. You mustn’t worry about me.

If the answer’s no, that’s that.

Too bad.

You’re wrong, Panisse. I’m not here to say no.

Are you here to say yes?

If it were still possible, I’d say yes.

But it isn’t.

Why not?

There’s something bad you don’t know.

When you do, you won’t want me anymore.

But I already know. A number of people know it.

Marius was seen leaving your place. So what?

If someone told me,

“You weren’t your young wife’s first,”

I’d answer, “Well, was I a virgin?”

What does it matter?

You’re a good man.

But there’s something worse,

that can’t be erased.

I know.

You still think of Marius.

But you’ll forget him one day.

You’ll be another woman.

Yes, I still think of him.

But there’s something even worse.

An irreparable consequence.

What?

Don’t make me say it. Try to understand.

I am trying, I’m striving –

No, you’re not trying.

You’ve understood, I can tell.

You’re right, don’t take me.

I’m lost, totally lost.

And I’ve lost the right to take my life!

Is it a little one, Fanny?

Tell me. Is it a little one?

You’re sure? The doctor told you?

Is that why you were sick?

Don’t despise me, Panisse.

You asked my mother for me. I could have said yes.

But there’s a child growing inside me.

He wants to be born and he will be.

But you’d marry me all the same?

I’d be so grateful,

I might even end up loving you.

Would you give me the child?

Would he be mine? With my name?

That’s all I ask of you.

Mother of God!

You want me all the same?

Yes. Listen, Fanny, have you noticed my sign?

It says, “Honoré Panisse, Master Sailmaker.”

The letters on the left are cramped, with a gap in the middle.

I’ll show you something.

Here’s the “et.”

With an “F,”

an “I,”

an “L”...

and an “S.”

“Panisse and Son.”

I’ve never brought them out before in 30 years.

And now,

let’s get a few things straight.

Does anyone know your secret?

The doctor won’t talk.

- Anyone else? - Mom and Claudine.

They’ll want to save family honor. Anyone else?

No one.

When will the child be born?

February or March.

Sit down, Fanny dear. It will be a seventh-month birth.

So when’s the wedding?

Tell me, Mr. Panisse,

is this true? Have you thought it over?

When I married Félicité, she was your age.

And I was barely older.

For a long time, we were afraid of having a child

and when we did want one, we couldn’t.

It broke our hearts.

But now,

everything’s different.

A wife and a child of my own.

I’ll set just one condition.

Don’t tell anyone, not even your mother, that I know.

I won’t say a thing.

In spite of what we both know, I’ll ask you

to get married in white.

That way, I can pretend the child is mine.

Panisse!

César!

I don’t want to see him!

- Are you here? - Yes, I’m coming!

Counting your money, you old skinflint?

Wait here, I won’t be long.

Now then,

I hear about town you plan to propose to Fanny again.

I could tell you that’s none of your business.

None of my business?

Precisely. But I have nothing to hide

so I can tell you I’ve proposed again.

And I wasn’t turned down.

Sorry, but the marriage won’t happen.

- It won’t? - No.

Why not? Is your son coming back?

Unfortunately, no. Not for another 26 months.

But I won’t let the marriage happen.

That’s a good one. You have the right to decide?

Yes, because Fanny is Marius’s wife.

Not officially, but that’s a mere formality.

What if she doesn’t want to wait?

She will. She loves Marius.

So much that she just accepted my proposal.

- She accepted? - Exactly!

I don’t understand a thing then.

Or rather I understand too well!

You bought her, you old slave driver!

Is that what you did?

César, who can buy a girl if she doesn’t agree? Just think about it!

This marriage would be an enormity, a sinecure, an entropy!

You know it would be an entropy.

What do you call an entropy?

An entropy is –

I’m not here to teach you words but to remind you of your duty.

Don’t abuse of these women’s craziness.

Are you going to marry the girl?

That I am.

- Why? - Because I feel like it!

For God’s sake!

Believe me, an old man marrying a young girl

isn’t a pretty thing.

There’s something unpleasant about it.

I find it unpleasant.

Well, I find it pleasant!

You’re showing your true colors.

Fanny’s young and pretty

and you want to rub her pretty fresh skin

against your old bristles!

No, that’s not why!

It’s partly why. You disgust me!

Fine, so be disgusted!

I’d rather not be.

In this grave family situation,

act like a Provençal gentleman

and not some blackguard!

What if I enjoy acting like some blackguard?

Take a friend’s advice or, on your wedding day,

I’ll be at the church.

- After? - No, before.

To say what?

The first thing I’ll say will be a hammer blow to your head.

Then I’ll crush you

and scatter you all over Provence!

Try hitting me with your hammer...

and I’ll plug you with this!

It’s not a toy one!

You’ve tortured me since we were in short pants!

The tyranny’s lasted 30 years!

You think it can go on?

You want to stop this marriage?

Damn it, with two bullets, I’ll smash your noggin!

You poor fool.

You’ve killed the diver.

That’ll show you.

I’ll kill you the same way.

You daft idiot. Get a glass of water.

You’ve had such a scare, you can hardly stand.

I want to talk to the girl, not you.

You want to talk to her? She’s right here.

Fanny.

César wants a word.

Why are you here?

What are you here for?

She’ll tell you but you don’t ask the questions.

Fanny, did you hear?

César hopes to stop our marriage in any way he can.

He claims you’re his because his son so nobly abandoned you.

Tell him what you think.

Wait, Fanny, don’t answer yet.

He’s not presenting things honestly.

All I’m saying is you’re Marius’s fiancée.

He’s left you temporarily, but you’re waiting.

You know he’ll come back.

There, it’s simple. I’m right, aren’t I?

César, I can’t wait two years.

You can’t? You long for him, I know.

But you have to wait since you love him.

Yes, I love him.

Panisse knows that.

But because of my mother and my family, I can’t wait.

No, César.

I need a husband.

You’re telling me such a thing? You need a husband?

And you accept the first ape with money who comes along?

I’d wait 10 years for Marius if I could.

But I can’t anymore.

If Panisse still wants me, I’ll marry him.

In God’s name, that’s just not possible!

Is this what you were plotting? Is this why you made him leave?

- Stop it! - You prefer Panisse’s money!

I’m glad Marius has left. He was right to. You didn’t love him!

Shut up, you!

I’ll write and tell him the truth.

If he had any regrets, they’ll soon vanish!

- César, please – - Let the idiot go.

- No, Panisse, tell him! - Tell me what?

He’s too mean and stupid to understand!

Understand what?

- Tell him. - What is it?

Fanny is in an awkward position for a young, unmarried woman.

What?

A good man has to step in

to make up for the sins of your sailing scoundrel of a son.

A baby?

You’re having Marius’s baby?

What?

You’d take the baby from me?!

What do you mean?

He’s mine! He’s my boy’s baby!

And you’d steal him? You’re out of your minds!

My grandson, Fanny. Think of that.

I’m thinking of my family.

I don’t give a damn about your family!

The family is Marius, your baby and me!

Not this gentleman. So he can shut up.

Understand? Run on home now!

No, César, you haven’t thought it all out.

Marius will be away two years.

If I have a baby, my mother will die of shame.

You don’t die just like that.

Everyone will know he’s Marius’s son.

Precisely!

People will think that he left me

for some bad reason.

They’ll say, “He saw he wasn’t the first,

or maybe the child’s not his.”

I’m not denying that, if ever she didn’t marry.

But I can protect and defend them.

And in two years, she’ll marry.

Maybe, maybe not.

If he comes back, will he want to marry her?

Absolutely. I’m sure of it.

He’s written twice, not to me, to you.

But he mentioned you.

Like a stranger.

Does he mention her in his new letter? No, he doesn’t.

How do you know?

If he did, you’d have said.

Does he talk about coming home? No, he doesn’t.

Be honest, tell the truth.

The truth is

he didn’t mention her much this time.

He says hello.

That’s very kind of him.

Look how happy that makes her.

That settles everything. He says hello to you.

He’ll marry her for the baby. Or I’ll smash his face in!

That won’t help things!

We’re talking as if we were sure he’ll come back and marry her.

What if he doesn’t?

What do you mean?

You dare to think such things?

And you don’t?

Do you make storms and cyclones?

Do you unleash them when you feel like it?

What if his ship sank?

Can you swear he’ll come back and marry her?

There’s an 80% chance he’ll marry her.

Call it 70%.

I’d say 60 or 50%.

The child’s life could be ruined.

For now, no one knows.

Anyone can marry Fanny

and give the child a name without fear of ridicule.

What will he be otherwise?

An innocent little bastard.

That’s true.

At school, when his friends say,

“My dad’s a mechanic or a carpenter, what does yours do?”

he’ll turn red and say, “I don’t have one.”

My God.

I’ve thought hard about all this.

I’ve thought about my mother, my family and the baby.

If I become Mrs. Panisse, everyone will be happy.

- Even Marius. - It’s not true –

First off, if I marry her,

the baby will have a father and a name.

He’ll be called Panisse.

If, by chance, he were to be called Panisse,

he’d have to be Marius Panisse.

César-Marius Panisse.

If you want. You’ll be his godfather.

That way, you can take care of him too.

Besides, he’ll be rich.

César, there’s something no one knows as I’m a bit ashamed.

At the bar, when we talk about money,

I say I have 600,000 francs.

But actually I have twice that.

You? You’re a millionaire?

With the store, it comes to a million and a half.

Even Fanny didn’t know that.

I’m telling you to help the conversation along.

You’d leave it to the boy?

Of course, as my son.

The child would have a better life,

especially if that fellow sails forever.

- That’s what he wrote to me. - You see.

I’ll need to think it over.

If I left him the bar, along with what you have,

that’ll be two million.

Fanny, just think, by the time he’s 20,

the boy could smoke cigars as thick as his arm!

If it isn’t a girl.

A girl? What an idea! Shut up or you’ll jinx us!

No, I don’t sing.

- But someone does. - Really?

There’s someone who can sing. Elzéar!

Go on, give us a song!

Farewell, Venice of Provence

Farewell, land of my loves

Farewell, cicadas and crickets

That sing in the tall pines

Hills red with flowers Boats with bright colors

I’m going far away I leave you my heart

All together!

Could you just lift it a little?

There, that’s good. Perfect!

Look at the camera now. Let’s have a nice, big smile!

All right. Attention!

Nobody move now.

One, two, three –

Deep breaths.

Go on, give him a cordial.

The husband can’t stay.

When it comes to the birth, his job is over.

I’ll send for you.

Don’t leave her alone. It’s a seventh-month birth.

Yes, of course, seven months.

Don’t let anyone give him a kiss before I do!

César!

What is it?

Mr. Panisse sends word the child’s begun the birth process.

Is it a boy?

No one’s seen that yet.

- I’m on my way. - All right.

I’d like number 35 in Cassis, please.

Fernand, it’s Honoré. Honoré Panisse.

Wake my brother for me.

Fernand, hurry, my brother’s baby is on his way!

Should I come with you?

After I turn 80!

- Is it going well? - Of course!

We men are like fools at a birth.

She’s up there, suffering.

And we’re here like blithering idiots.

A new day dawns, César.

The day is born along with my child.

It’s Easter Sunday.

The boy will arrive with the bells.

It’s a boy!

A boy!

Off you go.

- Honoré! - What?

Don’t eat him up!

PANISSE and SON

Hello. How are you?

Come on, Elzéar.

You’re spoiling us!

No one else is coming in.

Listen here, Doctor.

I’m Elzéar Panisse of the Cassis winery.

I’m Honoré’s oldest brother.

I’d like to see the mother.

No. She needs peace and quiet. I can’t let a regiment in.

He’s the oldest one of us.

All right, go on then.

This way.

He’s beautiful.

What a beautiful baby.

My dear,

I’ve only seen you once, at your wedding.

As family, I can call you “my dear.”

Ours is an honest and rich family

that was a little sad because none of us had children

and we were going to pass on to the grave.

Our name would have died with us.

Then you come along, lie down

and give us a fine boy.

So, as the family elder,

for our Vaucluse cousins and Camargue aunts,

all our relatives, even the dead ones,

I drove through the night

to tell you how happy we are.

It’s a boy. Thank you.

Thank you, sister-in-law.

Say, “Hello, Godfather.”

Give Godfather a smile.

He’s lovely, isn’t he?

And Panisse is a fine son-in-law.

A bit old but he spoils Fanny so much –

All’s well that ends well.

So you don’t regret the marriage?

No, not anymore.

True, she loved your son but he preferred to sail.

So let him sail, the fool.

- Where is he now? - Marius? I’m not sure.

Three weeks ago, he was off of India.

I had a letter but I haven’t read it yet.

What did he say when you told him about the baby?

He doesn’t know. I haven’t written to him.

That’s for the best.

Does she talk about him?

Now and then, in passing.

Perhaps she’s forgotten. It’s two years since he left.

Besides, she’s married now.

And she has a baby with her husband.

Yes, with her husband.

That was my biggest surprise. I was amazed when she told me.

I was astounded.

Imagine. Panisse!

You’re right. Who’d have believed it?

He seemed so calm, so mushy.

He had all his vigor hidden in a corner.

He’s made a handsome child.

Yes, he’s handsome all right.

I wonder if he’d be more handsome if Marius had made him.

He wouldn’t be any more handsome. You can say that again!

Yes, I can say that.

Especially as no one’s around.

- Who is it? - It’s me.

- Who? - Marius!

Marius?

Is that you?

What’s happening? I don’t believe it.

Is it you, Marius?

Come in.

You prickle!

It’s two days since I shaved.

You prickle worse than a Corsican!

Let me look at you.

You can’t afford electricity?

No, a fuse blew.

You’ve bulked up.

Why are you here?

Have you deserted? Are you sick?

You didn’t get my letter?

It was only just delivered.

- Everything’s fine. I’ll explain. - Come on.

- You were eating? - I hadn’t started.

I’m hungry. It smells good.

You look good in that outfit. Sit down.

I’m not eating alone.

I won’t be able to get a thing down now.

All this was for you?

Yes, just a quick snack.

I’m glad. It proves you’re well.

Come on. Drink, take a bit of everything.

Love apples, artichokes.

Go on, dig in.

Tell me all about it.

He’s hot but he’s gone off quietly.

He’s a bit hot. He must be cutting a big molar.

I felt it with my finger.

Children always have something wrong.

When he’s pale, the two of you panic

and when his cheeks are red, he’s dying.

- What color do you want him? - Pink!

Richard, it’s compartment 10.

- Have a safe trip. - You too.

Excuse me, miss.

- Flowers, sir? - Yes.

Thank you.

Richard, take this bouquet to my wife.

Very good, Mr. Panisse.

Tell her I got my train.

Don’t worry. Have a safe trip.

Doctor, are you off to Paris too?

Don’t be afraid, Fanny. It’s me, Marius.

It’s you? Is it you, Marius?

I got back tonight.

I saw my father

and I wanted to see you. To say hello.

- Are you alone? - Yes, I couldn’t get to sleep.

So I climbed out of the window like when I was a young man.

I was watching you through the shutters.

Sit down.

Would you like something to drink?

Please.

Won’t your husband join us?

No, he’s already asleep.

Are you back for good?

In theory, I leave again tomorrow.

- Is your ship back? - No, she’s in Sydney.

She was damaged and she’s in a dry dock.

Some apparatus needed mending, so we put it on a French destroyer.

You can’t mend it just anywhere.

It has to be sent back to the factories in Paris.

They’re precise instruments. It’s a huge mess.

I’m part of the mission.

I asked to be.

- I was yearning. - To see your father?

Yes, my father and

Marseilles and

and everyone.

Everyone.

If I wanted, I could find a substitute and stay here.

What’s a substitute?

A fellow who swaps his place for mine.

The Malaisie is popular. The pay is good and the work easy.

Chauvaux often wrote to me from here.

He’s on the Ile de la Beauté. He’d leave right away.

It could be settled in a week.

Because

he feels that call, you know.

The call of the ocean.

What about you?

Don’t you feel it anymore?

You’re not happy at sea?

You’re always happy living your dream.

If you were unhappy,

you’d have to be pretty stupid.

On the contrary, I’m very happy.

And you?

Are you happy?

Of course.

I have a good husband.

And a beautiful home.

A beautiful home.

A beautiful home and a beautiful child.

Yes, a beautiful child.

Your father told you?

Yes, he told me just now.

I’m surprised he didn’t write to tell me.

What else did he say?

- About what? - About my son.

What else could he say?

I don’t know.

Of course, your son’s so wonderful,

you think he’s all people can talk about?

Of course he’s wonderful!

He’s nearly walking alone now.

Already? Children can walk at eight months?

Just over eight months. He’s precocious.

So you’re very happy.

Everything’s for the best.

I’m glad to see you so happy

and so well.

You look well too.

That’s the sea air.

And me, my peaceful life.

Your peace and happiness.

Yes, Marius,

my peace and happiness.

Well then, good-bye, Fanny dear.

Good-bye, Marius.

Will you stop here when you return from Paris?

We’re leaving on an English ship.

The Australia. A steamer.

English ships are clean and efficient.

My best to your husband.

Tell him I didn’t want to wake him.

Who is it?

Richard, Mrs. Panisse.

The taxi driver.

Your husband sent you this bouquet.

He told me to say he got his train.

Thank you, Richard.

Good night, Mrs. Panisse.

Is your husband really away?

Why didn’t you say?

Are you afraid of me?

No, Marius, I’m not afraid of you.

Nothing we can say could help.

Go. Don’t stir up the past.

No need to stir it, it’s moving enough alone!

Why did you marry Panisse so fast?

Why didn’t my father tell me you had a son?

And how did Panisse become a father at his age?

- I don’t know. - I can guess.

Why bother? Just go!

I know the truth now.

The child is mine.

And I’m a criminal.

You’re not a criminal. It’s not your fault.

Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you write?

You left for five years.

I told Honoré everything and he accepted me.

My dear Fanny. Forgive me, please.

I forgave you long ago.

You hadn’t understood my love.

Nor my own!

I didn’t know how I loved you.

When I left, I was happy.

I know.

I read your first letters.

I didn’t think of you that often.

It was all over. But then –

Then, little by little, it began.

- I’d think of you at night. - Shut up.

I realized I’d done something stupid. But I thought

it was the remains of love and I’d get over it.

But I didn’t.

On the contrary.

The further south we sailed, the worse it got.

As soon as I closed my eyes, it would come over me.

I’d see you selling shellfish in your hat.

I’d see you on the dock.

I’d hear your heels clicking.

I’d smell your scent.

Stop it, Marius. This isn’t right.

I’d see you everywhere.

And then,

one day,

something terrible happened to me.

I couldn’t think about you. I’d forgotten your face.

I looked for you but couldn’t find you.

I’d lost you!

So...

I asked my father to send me a photo of you.

When we got to Tahiti,

I found a letter waiting. He’d sent me a photo.

Your wedding photo.

You’d married a month earlier.

Since I didn’t know why...

I cried.

Me too, Marius, I cried too.

I’ve come back for you.

Maybe you no longer love Panisse.

Maybe you still love me.

I can see that I was right. You still love me.

Let me kiss you.

No, Marius.

Fanny, let me kiss you.

No!

Don’t do this, my children!

Panisse is a good man. He’s not here.

Don’t mock him in front of the furniture.

That wouldn’t be nice.

Who told you I was here?

It wasn’t hard to guess.

Why didn’t you tell me about the child?

The child?

What child?

- I told him. - Maybe that wasn’t wise.

Why not?

Why hide from me my rights over her and her child?

Your rights?

- I don’t know if you have any. - Dad...

I’m fond of you

but will you please get off my back!

You said that so well, Marius.

You’re clearly a man now.

You no longer respect your father.

That’s normal.

With her husband away, you shouldn’t be at Mrs. Panisse’s.

- I’m not going. - Get out!

I’m staying!

Panisse did what he had to do.

He took in your woman. He gave your child a name.

Now he’s away ensuring your son’s future,

you come to steal his wife?

We’ve had them all in this family:

pirates, customs officers,

smugglers, idiots

and even simple bar owners like me.

But never any swine.

So are you staying?

Yes.

I’m staying too.

Your father’s right, Marius.

Fanny?

You’re still up?

Just as I was leaving, I met Dr. Gallon –

You see,

we have visitors.

Good evening, Marius.

Good evening, Mr. Panisse.

You’re back then?

He’s passing through. A short leave.

What happened to make you miss your train?

As I was boarding it, I met Dr. Gallon who told me

that Miette’s baby has whooping cough.

They fear for his life. And she never told us!

He came to play with our boy today.

You can catch whooping cough by looking at it.

- How is he? - A bit hot.

- Oh, God! - Don’t be afraid.

You say that but you told me he was hot.

Go and check his temperature.

Is your leave a long one?

It depends.

- On what? - On Fanny and you.

That’s forthright.

I don’t understand.

In the past, as now, even far away, I’ve considered Fanny my fiancée.

“Considered”?

That’s a fancy word.

I consider nothing at all.

She’s my wife and the mother of my son.

Are you sure the child’s your son?

Look here, Marius.

I’ve been expecting this for two years.

Every night, I go to bed thinking, “What if he comes back tomorrow

and tries to take everything, what will I say?”

I’ve had two years to prepare

all my answers.

But now I see you here,

I no longer know what to say.

Don’t worry, he doesn’t seem sick. Everything’s fine.

All right.

Come and sit down, Fanny.

So, deep down, what is it you demand?

I did a mad thing two years ago.

But does an hour of stupidity mean people must suffer?

- Which people? - Fanny, me, my father and my son.

Where do I fit in?

You’ve been happy for two years

by doing a good deed.

I thank you for what you’ve done.

But now, you must be brave and give me what’s mine.

Marius, you’re rushing things.

He’s brave for others’ sacrifices.

Here’s my reply:

I can see I’m in the way here.

To please you both, I should drown by accident.

Fanny,

I’d gladly do it to make you happy.

But I wouldn’t see the child anymore.

So I refuse to drown. I flatly refuse to!

Honoré,

no one’s asking you to do that.

No, but I asked it of myself.

Fanny,

show me no pity.

If you love this boy,

if your happiness lies with him...

too bad for me. You’re free.

That’s good, that’s not selfish.

But the child?

The child is ours.

I should give you the child?

Why not ask me for my eyes, my liver, my spleen or my heart?

You act generous. “Take the woman but I keep the child.”

Without the child, maybe the woman won’t leave.

Be honest and give me my son.

No, Marius, you won’t have the child!

Maybe you know how to talk to his mother.

Maybe she’ll come to ask for him.

Don’t do it. You’re young, you’ll have other children.

But leave me mine.

He’s my one and only child.

My first and last.

Who could take him from you? You know me so little.

He’s not an ordinary child. He’s a real wonder!

All these fancy speeches –

He coughed!

- He coughed? - I didn’t hear him.

No one hears him but I do!

He’s gone now!

If he coughed,

that matters more than this.

Since he’s my child, I should be the one worrying.

But you’re not.

You’re not his father.

You were before he was born but –

Once a father, always a father.

No.

When he was born, he weighed nine pounds.

Nine pounds of his mother’s flesh.

Now, he weighs twenty pounds.

You know what those eleven extra pounds are?

They’re love.

But love is light.

It takes a lot to make eleven pounds.

I gave my share. She did too.

But Panisse gave the most of all.

What about you?

What did you give?

- Life. - Yes, life.

Dogs give life too.

No, Marius, you didn’t want this child.

All you cared about was your pleasure.

You didn’t give him life, he took it. It’s different.

For God’s sake, who’s the father?

The one who gives life or the one who feeds him?

The father...

is the one who loves him.

You, Marius,

you were the father of a nameless child,

carried in shame and despair.

Where is that child now?

He doesn’t exist. He isn’t mine.

Mine was born in a fine bed, attended by his grandmother and aunts.

You think nothing can stop you but you won’t have him.

He belongs to a family.

So you’re betraying me too?

Betraying you?

Me?

No, Marius,

I haven’t betrayed you, I haven’t betrayed your love.

With your father here to preserve us, I can tell you now.

I love you.

I still love you.

Perhaps even more than before.

Every morning, I see your face in my son’s smile.

When I saw you, I felt I was falling.

If you’d taken my hand,

I’d have left, I’d had followed you anywhere.

But if I had, what about my son?

He’s ours. Just take him with you!

I have no right to. Panisse saved me.

He held my hand at the birth.

I dug my nails into his hand and he still bears the marks.

He has those marks, not you.

Go now.

Go back to sea. It’s what you wanted.

Leave me here with our son.

All the same,

if it’s any comfort...

remember there’s a woman who thinks of you every evening,

who’d like to lie beside you,

smell your hair and fall asleep in the warmth of you.

What about you, Dad?

What would you like me to do?

I’d like you to catch your train.

So you’re throwing me out too?

Of course not, it’s not me.

No, Fanny too. She wants me to go.

Don’t be mean to her. She told you she loves you.

But she’s torn between her heart and her belly.

She’s the one to pity.

No, Marius,

it’s not me making you leave, nor her,

nor even Panisse.

But you’re a danger for your son’s future.

So he’s sending you away.

And you’re not defending me?

Dad.

Don’t you love me anymore?

Of course I still love you.

You big fool.

But you’re grown now

while he’s still tiny.

That’s why he’s so strong.

Children take everything from you.

If you’re a good man...

you don’t wait for them to take it.

You give it to them.

Say good-bye to Mrs. Panisse.

Good-bye, Fanny.

Good-bye, Marius.

I’ll only ever love you.

I’ve only ever loved you.

Come on, Son.