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IMMORAL TALES

with, in order of appearance

THE TIDE

Love, with all its pleasure,

becomes even more blissful
through the way it is expressed.

THE TIDE

Based on a story by
André Pieyre de Mandiargues

"My cousin Julie was 16, I was 20.

"This small age difference
made her susceptible to my authority."

- Take care of yourselves.
- Now don't worry, mother.

- Be careful too.
- Yes, yes.

Farewell, till tomorrow! Don't worry.

Julie!

How many tomatoes do you want?

Two. But hurry now!

Julie!

- My hat!
- Where is it?

In my bedroom under the bed!

Take off that hat.

- You're wearing one.
- This isn't a hat.

Now you've flown away,
naughty nightingale

That was my turn to play

Be back in my dreams,
happy nightingale

Take a rest all day
That nigh! is my tum to play

I'm running ahead...
so as not see you.

I'll forget you, so it'll be more exciting
when we meet at the beach.

- How many?
- Five. Really.

Since last summer, I have met five boys.

- What do you mean you "met" them?
- We'd meet.

- Where?
- At parties.

We kissed.

- And that's all?
- Yes.

- On the lips?
- No, Mum was always nearby.

Untouched.

Thanks to my aunt.

But today, she is far away.

Poor thing, with that wig of hers.

- What?
- Never mind.

I'm saying your mother
looks like Madame Claude.

That fat lady
that gets you girls in Paris?

- Me, and my friends.
- Prostitutes.

- Whores.
- Do you see them often?

Every Wednesday.
We don't just watch them, we have fun.

- Do you kiss?
- Not quite.

But we do use their lips.

Watch it, brat!

If we go any further,
water might reach us.

We'll hardly make it back
to Couville beach before high tide.

It's your fault.

You should've been ready sooner.

But it's too late now.

There is no way we can be back.
We've gone too far.

We'll reach that boulder
in front of us...

and we'll stay there
until tide has gone down.

My feet hurt!

What's going to happen?

There's no one around.
The tide is coming in...

It'll run into the pook,
but not much more.

The dry seaweed on the rocks
you can see out there...

If we just sit higher up,
only our feet will be wet.

Hey, Julie!

André, I'm over here!

Come over to me!

On all fours!

Stand up.

Now, put your dress back on...

It's already dirty.

Never mind. You can rinse it out
when we get back to the house.

HIGH AND LOW TIDE HOURS

Now take off this wet bathing suit
so that you're nude under the dress.

Playing hide and seek
in the seaweed is a silly game.

You're going
to play another game with me.

I don't mind.

Come here!

Come!

Come closer...

Some more...

Come as close as you can.

Look. You see...

Eleven twenty-seven.

For a long time, I've wanted your lips

like a man in the desert needs water.

Now, nothing can stop me.
I'm going to fulfil my desire

and appease my thirst.

You really want me
to kiss you on the mouth?

I'm not going to kiss you on the mouth,
as you so guiltily put it.

But you're going to take me in your mouth
just like I told you.

You seemed to understand.

Like the whores at Mrs Claude's.

I'll stay in you as long
as it takes the tide to rise,

more than half an hour.

During that time,
to keep your mouth on me,

I'll explain to you
the mechanism of the tides.

You'll pay attention
to what I'll be doing in your mouth,

to what I'll say about the sea
that rises like my desire.

At 11:27, precisely,

I will come in your mouth.

You should know that such
self-control is not easy,

but I've mastered it,
despite being not much older than you.

Meanwhile, I will need to meditate...

and you, too, should meditate.

You should think carefully
about whatever you like...

yourself, or me...
about someone or something you want.

Above all, you'll feel the progression
of my desire as it reaches fulfillment.

When at last, I come in your throat,

you will swallow my living fluid
gently and obediently.

This vital gift is very important

and you will think of this gift

as being the result
of the great tidal movement around us.

But you shouldn't expect me to tell you
about what I thought all alone.

Come, there is no more time to lose.

Mean girl...

My pretty little Julie...
I just want your happiness.

I'll pour you life's nectar

and it'll be sweet as honey
in your mouth.

All tides are created

by the attraction
of the moon and the sun.

And the tide's force,

as the sun...

in its course approaches the moon,
is bigger.

- There is still time to have some fun.
- No.

You must realise it wasn't
to have some fun that we came here.

It was for your education.

Now you will understand
the mysteries of the tides.

THERESE PHILOSOPHER

"The people from our region
demand the beatification of Thérése H.,

"a Pious young girl,

"shamelessly raped by a vagrant. ”

La Gazette du Dimanche
10 July, 1890

Goodness comes by conversing
with those who are good.

Those are the words of the Holy Ghost.

I am the Master of Souls,
and I lead them gently where I wish.

My child, it is not necessary
to be very wise to please me.

It is enough to love me very much.

I love you, my dear Lord.

I am Master of all earthly souls

and each material body
is also in my possession.

Ask of me...

You'll get everything that can aid you
in achieving sainthood.

What do you want, my dear child?

I want to be happy.

I am here.
I will not forsake you.

My hands', my hands
are full of treasures

and I have only one wish...
To spread them abundantly.

Ask me to be of help.

Show me by telling me your weaknesses,

how sensual you are... how proud,

susceptible, selfish, cowardly, lazy...

Be ashamed at your lack of repentance.

Forgive me, my dear Lord.

Oh, no!

- You little liar! You'll be punished!
- I just stayed in church after mass!

- Liar!
- I really stayed in the church!

No! No!

I didn't do anything!

- Little liar!
- It's true!

Liar!

You'll be locked up here
three days and three nights!

Please give me
my Stations of the Cross!

Please give me
my Stations of the Cross!

My Stations of the Cross!

Here!

Here!

"Yes.

"Yes, come,
let your lips touch this water.

"It will quench your thirst.

"It will make you share the life of angels.

"It will awaken your faith

"and your goodness will overcome all.

"It will bring the hope
of a better world

"where almighty God will give us
the comfort of His possessions

"and of His love."

My delight is to be always with you.

I am here to comfort you,

to make you smile, to bring you joy.

You didn't expect to see me.

It is a reward
you did not believe you deserved.

I trust fully in Your Providence.

I am coming to you, sweet Jesus.

My heart is ready.

My heart, my hands are full of treasures...

How sensual you are, how proud,
susceptible, selfish, cowardly, lazy...

Help!

THE BEAST

In 1765.

A monster, the beast of Gévaudan,

spreads terror in France,
in the Massif Central region.

In 1610.

Countess Erzsébet Béthory,
accompanied by a squire,

visits the villages and settlements
of Nyitra County in Hungary.

Go away!

Don't be afraid.

The Countess Béthory is at present

searching the countryside
for honest and simple young girls.

They're paid, fed and housed
better than the King himself.

Tell your people to come out.

Come on out! Don't be afraid!

Out, all of you!

The chosen girls
will receive a great reward.

On Sunday, those who find favour
with our dear Countess

will be allowed to touch her famous,
miraculous lace gown,

strewn all over with pearls.

Those who touch the gown
will know the meaning of eternal joy!

Istvén!

- What is that?
- A rising sun.

Leave me alone, you thief!

It's you that is the thief!

What did you say?

What did you say?

- Thief!
- Leave me alone!

It's not me, it's her!

Have the new ones take a bath.

Erzsébet Béthory...

I've orders to arrest you
in the King's name.

All resistance is quite useless.

In 1498.

Lucrezia Borgia, accompanied
by her husband, Giovanni Sforza,

visits her father, Pope Alexander VI,
and brother, Cesare Borgia.

The Dominican Hyeronimo Savonarola

accuses the Church hierarchy
of dissolution.

A beautiful princess!

And so, you, Italy's profane church,

you were once quite shameful!

That the evil and the lust be known!

Now, today, you have set aside virtue.

Woman astride a tiger.

What breasts!

I announce to Rome and to the world,
the impotence of my son-in-law,

Giovanni Sforza, Count of Pesaro.

Evil tongues claim
that my biscuits are bitter!

Vicious gossip! Judge for yourself.
Taste one.

Your susceptibility is insulting,
my dear Count.

Let us look at the stallions.
Enough of these mice!

Francesco... pupil of Pinturicchio.

Remarkable precision!

Such truth encompassed
in so few lines. It's prodigious!

Bufero!

- Don't close your eyes, my dear Count.
- I can hear Bufero neighing.

But why be afraid to listen?

The hooves of mares,

listen to them,
the mares from the fields.

Oh, those mares from the fields!

- What profanity!
- Bufero!

Bufero, my love.

My dear son, calm yourself, young man.

Oh no! Please don't complain, my son!

Just listen to Ariosto.

Lucrezia Borgia would also gladly
have relations with such a beast.

You know well...once...
if priests had fathered infants,

they named them their nephews!

However they name their sons now...

Sons of sin! Infants of shame!

Father, you said
the Church was prostituted?

Not the Holy Church!

You are so ignorant.

Listen to Saint Jeremy
commenting Ezekiel. He says it clearly:

"it's to the Holy Church
that we must always turn!"

Go back home,

meditate, and later
you might ponder on this seriously.

This is my mother.

Her body is covered.

Beautiful little ears.

As tin by silver, brass by gold,

As corn-poppy
beside the deeply-crimsoning rose.

Willow by laurel evergreen,
as shorn of light.

Stained glass by gem that richly glows...

And we're not only talking about
the abuse of women and young boys!

They're interested
only in dogs or in mules...

Virgo in gloria!

The one, whose praise I sing,
is not yet born.

She will be at all times
of great renown,

of singular beauty,

of great wisdom,
endowed with all the rarest qualities...

And above all other illustrious merits,

with which she will be blessed
now and hereafter,

as praises had once been sung
of Hercules and his royal suit,

and of his sons of great renown.

Great state was given then
to rich ornaments, but it mattered little

whether their dress was armour or toga...

for whether good or bad,
the true taste of wine changes little

even when decanted into new bottle.

Sancta Lucrezia!

The Chosen Lamb
has descended from heaven,

a gold and purple crown upon his head.

All comes from me.

Caesar, you are also my creation.

Tempus fugit... Bring my horse!

The dear Lord
has permitted his garden to be trampled.

Come ye, head of the Church!

Come ye, priests! Come ye, clerics!

At night, you're abed with concubines.

Yet, at matins, you dare approach
the holy table of Christ.

Our Lord, Jesus Christ,
has ordained me to defend the truth.

And I will do so to my last breath!

So, mark my words,
this very truth will burst forth!

The End