Afrikaans
Akan
Albanian
Amharic
Arabic
Armenian
Azerbaijani
Basque
Belarusian
Bemba
Bengali
Bihari
Bosnian
Breton
Bulgarian
Cambodian
Catalan
Cebuano
Cherokee
Chichewa
Chinese (Simplified)
Chinese (Traditional)
Corsican
Croatian
Czech
Danish
Dutch
English
Esperanto
Estonian
Ewe
Faroese
Filipino
Finnish
French
Frisian
Ga
Galician
Georgian
German
Greek
Guarani
Gujarati
Haitian Creole
Hausa
Hawaiian
Hebrew
Hindi
Hmong
Hungarian
Icelandic
Igbo
Indonesian
Interlingua
Irish
Italian
Japanese
Javanese
Kannada
Kazakh
Kinyarwanda
Kirundi
Kongo
Korean
Krio (Sierra Leone)
Kurdish
Kurdish (Soranî)
Kyrgyz
Laothian
Latin
Latvian
Lingala
Lithuanian
Lozi
Luganda
Luo
Luxembourgish
Macedonian
Malagasy
Malay
Malayalam
Maltese
Maori
Marathi
Mauritian Creole
Moldavian
Mongolian
Myanmar (Burmese)
Montenegrin
Nepali
Nigerian Pidgin
Northern Sotho
Norwegian
Norwegian (Nynorsk)
Occitan
Oriya
Oromo
Pashto
Persian
Polish
Portuguese (Portugal)
Punjabi
Quechua
Romanian
Romansh
Runyakitara
Russian
Samoan
Scots Gaelic
Serbian
Serbo-Croatian
Sesotho
Setswana
Seychellois Creole
Shona
Sindhi
Sinhalese
Slovak
Slovenian
Somali
Spanish
Spanish (Latin American)
Sundanese
Swahili
Swedish
Tajik
Tamil
Tatar
Telugu
Thai
Tigrinya
Tonga
Tshiluba
Tumbuka
Turkish
Turkmen
Twi
Uighur
Ukrainian
Urdu
Uzbek
Vietnamese
Welsh
Wolof
Xhosa
Yiddish
Yoruba
Zulu
Dr. Harriston? It's Stein again. I know I shouldn't call you.
The sigh yesterday,
this very long sigh, right in the middle of my session.
Why? Why did you say goodbye so loud when I paid at the door
as if I was already far away?
I lied to you, Dr. Harriston.
Every single Thursday for months on end,
my mother would take me with her. I was about five years old.
We'd take Route 34 five miles north of Salt Lake City
to the Paradise Motel.
She'd stop in front of a window and leave me there
in the back of our 1955 station wagon.
Your goodbye resonated through the whole building.
Why so loud? To stop me?
Was it on purpose? Probably.
You do everything on purpose, even sighing.
I'm afraid. Afraid to come.
Afraid not to come.
I can't stand lying on your couch any more
I just can't stand it.
Or see how you could stand having me there.
Dr. Harriston, since our last session I read your book and it's brilliant.
I've stopped having dreams.
The last time I did was just before my last session.
I dreamt about your fiancée. Actually, it was more like a nightmare.
I heard that you marrying her, Lizbeth Honeywell,
and she's not bad. She looked a little too tall for me.
I do like tall women, especially when they're thin and ironic.
I held her tight and I kissed her and then she sang,
"Campton schmuck and we all hate Campton," and I ran away.
I can't stand it any more. I need you.
The Herald Tribune?
I'd like to take out an ad in your Paris edition,
for an exchange.
Yes.
Yes.
For an apartment swap.
That's right, in Paris, yes.
Beatrice!
Beatrice!
Beatrice!
Beatrice!
Beatrice!
Beatrice! Beatrice!
Beatrice, answer! Beatrice?
"Partially cloudy, chance of rain...
"Looking to exchange in New York...
"Apartment... excellent location...
"You must take care of the plants...
"and three-year-old dog."
This bridge just gives me the blues.
- What a pity, I like it! - Good for you.
And, for you, what's good?
For me? Cable TV...
cigarette...and booze.
Booze? What means "booze"?
Alcohol, beer... and so on.
Cable TV, cigarettes and booze!
Is that all?
Hanging out at home in my slippers, you see?
I see nothing except the sky. I'm crazy about this New York sky!
The sky is the sky, it's the same as everywhere.
That's not true, you know that.
- You must be Miss Saulnier. - Yes!
Dr. Harriston told me to be expecting you.
Oh! Thank you.
- You're welcome! - Oh, thank you. How delightful!
Take really good care for yourself, young lady, okay?
Oh, the pleasure is all mine. Bye!
Oh, my bags!
Yes, Miss Saulnier?
Oh, thank you!
Oh! Oh, it's impressive. Don't you think so?
Yes, Miss Saulnier, it is.
- A little bit dark. - Yes, a little bit dark, indeed.
Is it on the 18th floor?
Ah, I told Anne it was on the 16th.
It's apartment 18e.
Ah.
- You have a friend in New York? - Yes, it's my best friend,
and a very gifted dancer.
- An English girl. - You're a dancer.
I would have guessed you were a dancer. I've always loved dancers.
Really? Why is that?
Why? Oh, I don't know.
No, I really don't know why.
Perhaps it's because...
Oh, no, I don't know either.
I don't know you well enough.
Oh, what a beautiful elevator!
Isn't it, though? They've just remodelled.
I've heard that elevators are very rare in France.
And bathrooms, too.
Yes, I know.
- That's Edgard. - Edgar?
Edgard, the dog.
He sleeps a lot. Oh, Edgard.
With a name like that, no wonder he's asleep.
Is he sick?
- No. - Oh, it must be his character.
The same way that you love dancers.
The code's broken.
Go to the bakery next door.
- Thank you. - Don't mention it.
You want the code?
Adel!
128th lesson. Problems.
Oh, Doctor, help me. I keep talking to myself.
Don't worry, sir, it's not uncommon. In fact, thousands of people do it.
Yes, but, Doctor, you don't realise how stupid I sound.
Who's he? Is he moving in?
How peaceful.
Just what I needed, Dr. Harriston.
Would you please be so kind...?
Would you be so kind as to shut up?
Beatrice, my love, where are you?
I dreamt of you. I held you in my arms.
You said, yes, yes, yes. Philippe.
How refreshing!
Your cologne is intoxicating, Henry.
Dr. Harriston, you don't leave any messages any more,
not even a short one.
It's Campton here. I'm a wreck, a total wreck.
Well, you have lost 50lbs today, Henry.
"Mix 1/3 white rice..."
Ah, intestinal disorders!
Again, a question of character, Edgard.
I'll mix it!
"Dr. Harriston, I'm sorry about the mess.
"The cleaning lady will come in at about 5 o'clock.
"I left in such a rush and I had so many things to do at the last minute.
"P.S. Don't be upset.
"I'd hate to think you were.
"Beatrice."
- This dance class is really great. - I told you!
Anne, it's so good to see you again.
I feel so good in this city.
- Yeah? It's full of roaches. - I don't know anyone except for you.
- So I'll see you soon. - Yeah.
- And you're sure I won't be in your way? - Not at all, the apartment's gigantic.
- Gigantic? - Yes, gigantic.
And so quiet, you can hear your thoughts.
Next on our program is Villa-Lobos,
recorded live at the Maison de la Radio.
Bachanias Brasileiras 5, for soprano and orchestra.
- What's wrong? - Shut up!
You're in a bad mood?
I can't see her down there.
I'd like to reserve a seat for the concert on the 16th.
The name is Harriston.
Yes, I'll wait.
"One is not serious when one is 17."
"A lovely evening..."
"Foin." What's "foin"?
"Foin."
Hay. Doesn't make any sense.
"Limonade" must be lemonade.
"Dear Beatrice..."
Johnny was hiding behind the curtains, looking at me.
He was standing just a few feet away from me on the other side of the window.
My child. My son.
I could see his eyes, his mouth.
He'd just started to lose his baby teeth.
His hand was on the curtain and then this shadow passed in back of him
and the curtain closed and he disappeared,
and I felt like such an idiot, standing there
with this Power Rangers costume that I bought for him in my hands.
I didn't dare ring the doorbell. I just wanted to vanish.
It was raining. I just... I felt rooted to the spot.
And then a neighbour came by and she said,
"Mr Campton, don't stay there, it's raining."
I could see it was raining, so I said,
"I can see it's raining! I can see damn well it's raining.
"It's raining cats and dogs. It's good for the plants."
She said, "Yes, it is."
Then she said something about acid rain. I just...
I was staring at that goddamn window, willing it to open,
that Johnny would come out waving his fists,
shouting "Daddy", or something,
so I could hold him, just...
hug him in my arms and just say something to him.
"My child, my son...
"how's school going?"
That's something a father says to a son.
"How's school going?", right?
Yes, I think so. I don't have any children.
- Did Johnny come back? - No.
How can that be?
Who are you?
Oh. Oh, right. You must be filling in for him while he's away.
I'd forgotten. He's away, isn't he?
- Yes, but, you know, I... - She won't let him.
She says, "Don't hold on to him so tight.
"Do you want to strangle him? He's only a boy.
"Leave him alone!"
She's been saying that a lot lately. She doesn't want me to see him any more.
She thinks I'm bad for him.
"Campton schmuck, didn't we all hate Campton."
Oh, you can smell a man nobody wants around any more from a mile away.
A man alone, like a dog.
I can't smell anything.
On the contrary, your aftershave, it's Vetiver, isn't it?
It's not aftershave, it's deodorant.
It's nice. Who makes it? Lanvin or Guerlain?
I don't know, I can't remember. It's, uh... I don't...
I've forgotten. Um...
God, it's so frustrating. I don't... I know it's very expensive.
It smells nice for deodorant.
- It does. - Mm-hm.
But how can you ever be 100% sure that you don't stink?
Before, when my wife was in love with me,
she used to say...
"You smell so good."
"I love you. Do you love me?"
"You said no
"with unbelievable frankness."
"Like a fever, a cataclysm, you haunt me:
"Your every word, your every glance.
"I can't sleep, I can't eat. Can you?"
It's so lyrical!
I wonder what it is that Miss Saulnier does to all these people.
"You said: Julien. And that was all.
"I said: You're pretty. You said: Stop.
"I said: You're tender. You said: Not always.
"I said: Why? You said: I don't know.
"I said: I love you.
"You said: Don't say that."
"I'm warning you: Beatrice, I'm not the reasonable type.
"Not like the other guys who are after you.
"I'm violent. A psycho. I've had more than enough.
"I'm fed up with you, with your smile, with your odour,
"with your sweat, and with being up on your roof."
"I want you to love me.
"You better love me, or else I'll kill you,
"I'll kill myself, or both of us.
"Jerome."
So, Tuesday five o'clock, as usual.
But, uh... Oh... I'm...
Yes. Yes, of course.
Here, miss... Beatrice Saulnier.
Oh, I see, you prefer a check.
Dr. Harriston follows the French school. I mean, real money.
You know, the smell of money. Money is money.
I'll kill myself
or both of us.
Beatrice! It's Julien! I can't stand it anymore!
Answer! I'm begging you!
Beatrice, it's Daniel. Answer the phone! Answer!
Please! I'm at the end of my rope!
The end, the end, the end!
Answer!
Open up!
Oh, I have to fix that too.
Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no.
I... need help.
I can see that, but no, I can't. I'm not
- I need help. - No, I...
Help me. I don't feel well.
Oh. All right, come in.
Where is she? You're in her bed. She must be hiding.
Where the fuck is she?
It figures. You're good-looking. I bet you're loaded too!
A bookworm too. You read poetry. Girls like that.
No. Believe me... it's not me.
Jerome!
Jerome? So you know my name?
I bet you two laughed at my expense!
No, I don't even know her.
Have a good laugh, asshole?
No, I'm living at her place. She's at mine.
I can see.
Jerome...
please be reasonable.
I'm not that type!
I know.
Thank you.
I don't know Beatrice.
I guess she's pretty.
You guess right.
Very pretty, right?
Lively too,
and spontaneous.
Unbelievable frank.
Cruel in her own way. Indifferent too.
Yet gentle
and complicated.
Exactly.
Love must be something very serious to her.
Impossible, too.
She doesn't love anyone.
No one?
That was extraordinary.
Thank you. Thanks a lot.
Really extraordinary.
Same time next week?
Er... yes.
Maybe you'll have some time before...
Oh, no, no, absolutely not, Mr. Wood.
No. Thank you.
She loved my sister.
My mother loved her. Everyone did.
Me too, even if I wanted to pull her hair sometimes.
Beautiful blond hair, almost white in the summer.
So beautiful, I felt suffocated.
It broke my heart. Such beauty...
Yes...
I'm embarrassed.
It hurts...
Dr. Harriston isn't in. This is his cleaning lady.
Beatrice, it's me, Anne.
What's the matter? Were you expecting someone else?
No one. Certainly not.
Oh, hey. Whose house is this?
Henry's. I mean... uh, Henry Harriston's.
- Henry Harriston? - Mm-hm.
- Not that hotshot psychoanalyst? - He's the one.
Yes?
Beatrice's perfume.
It covers up her real smell. Drives me crazy!
Yeah...
I can smell it.
Can you?
Yes, I can.
I imagine him secretive...
very calm, reserved,
somewhat awkward, even.
I don't know. I've just heard that he's a major analyst.
Oh, really?
But how do you know?
Believe it or not, I was in analysis.
You?! No way! Who could have guessed?
Well, guess again, me.
- How did it work exactly? - Well, that's very, very personal.
Why do you ask? You're not going to...
No, of course not, no.
I help them, but, you know, I won't do it any more.
I promise, never again!
But what did your shrink say to you, for example?
Did he give you advice, or...?
Above all, no. Advice could be fatal!
Fatal?
So he talked about himself, then.
Never! Are you crazy, or what?
It would no longer be an analysis. It would be a relationship.
A relationship.
So what happened, then?
Not much. Almost nothing.
Not much. Almost nothing.
Well, sometimes...
he would go, "Mm-hm."
- Mm-hm. - Mm-hm, yeah.
When he felt I'd just said something very essential,
or when I was really blocked or when I stopped...
in the middle of a sentence. "Mm-hm."
Right in the middle, that would happen. "Mm-hm."
Yes, because it was a crucial moment.
Mm-hm. Blocked. Crucial moment.
Sometimes he would just repeat a word,
one single word from my last sentence.
What an effect that had. I'd mull it over night and day.
Mm-hm. He would repeat a word.
He'd say it very quietly, very neutrally,
very softly, so as not to interrupt my flow of thought.
He would.
- What word? - Just a word.
Mm-hm. Just a word and that's all.
- No, that's not all. - What else?
Well, sometimes...
he would also say, "Yes."
Yes.
Mm-hm, yes. Crucial moment.
- In the subway. - Mm, yes.
I was facing this little kid, full of life.
He was laughing, talking with all his friends.
- Mm-hm? - His friends were so noisy,
full rage, so great.
- So great? - I felt miserable.
But also great in a way. And afraid.
Afraid? Me too! I sometimes get terrible fears.
I don't know why, sometimes for nothing.
When for example it's gray and humid, and when I see that I...
- Mm-hm. - Oh, yes!
Oh! Mm-hm.
Sorry, mm-hm, I mean.
Don't worry, they go away, they go away very fast.
And then I don't know what... Oh, it's nothing, it's nothing.
- Mm-hm. - Mm-hm.
- You can carry on. - Okay. Um...
Hm.
Don't worry. I'm Philippe.
A friend of Beatrice's.
I miss her so I figured being where she sleeps...
It's like having her near.
I can smell her... imagine her...
You have a leak.
My apartment's soaked.
Hurry!
My place is flooded. It must come from your place.
Henry...
Talking to you did me good. I want to see you again.
I have so much to say. It's hard to get it out.
Some more coffee, sir?
Would you like some more coffee?
- Pardon me? - Would you like some more coffee or tea?
Yes. No. No.
No.
144 Spring Street, near Flatbush Avenue.
- That's Brooklyn. - Yes, it is.
Ma, Ma, listen. Guess who asked me to put him up.
Yeah, Henry Harriston!
No, it's out of the blue.
He's getting married?
Well, why does he want to do that for? When?
To Elizabeth Honeywell? The daughter of...
Well, not all of us had the courage to spend those years at Harvard.
What about me? I'm fine.
Oh, I see, when am I getting married? I get it. Oh, yeah.
See how you turn this thing around?
Ma, no, honestly, some day I will.
But, listen, I know he's rich. Rich or poor,
married or unmarried, he's still coming over here in a minute.
I've got to straighten up. I love you too.
Excuse me, I'd like to stop off first at...
5th Avenue and 86th Street, please.
That's Manhattan!
Yes, it is.
It's true that I suffered when Jane turned me down.
But now I'm suffering when she doesn't.
That smell...
fried eggs.
The smell...
Could you wait here a few minutes? I'll be right back.
- Next week, same time? - Yes.
Can't we get together sooner? Tomorrow, the day after?
It's a crucial moment.
Oh, really?
Dr. Harriston! Back?
Passing through. A conference. Do you have my mail?
Oh, of course!
He looks...
He looks better.
He's completely changed.
Excuse me?
Nothing. Is everything all right up there? How's the dog?
Oh, he's fine. He's just fine.
- That's good, I thought he might miss me. - Not at all. He's completely changed.
What do you mean? He's not sick?
Oh, on the contrary!
On the contrary?
I mean, he's not sick, but his personality has changed.
He sleeps less. He's less melancholy.
- He's full of pep. - Pep?!
Jolly. That's it. He's getting jollier and jollier.
She walks him three times a day?
Oh, yeah. He follows her everywhere!
I have a bad feeling. I hear footsteps.
As if someone's following me.
I feel a shadow behind me.
It's him!
Him?
Believe me.
Yes, sir?
Miss Saulnier...
I am her secretary.
Her secretary?
How may I help you, sir?
I wish to see Miss Saulnier. Miss Beatrice Saulnier.
That's not possible, sir.
What do you mean it's not possible? She's not in?
I'm very sorry, it's impossible.
Miss Saulnier is in the middle of a session, sir.
A session?! What kind of session? With whom?
- I'm afraid that's confidential... - I absolutely must see her.
I'm very sorry. Not now.
You don't look well. Why don't you sit down a minute?
She can't have a session, that's not possible. I...
Yes, sir, she does. She does. Will you be all right?
I'm perfectly all right! It's you!
A session!
Hi, Edgard.
Edgard! It's me!
Where did it go?
I've got the feeling that Mr Stein is tailing us.
I don't see anyone.
Let's go over there, we'll see.
It's nice to be loved. We all want that, don't we?
It depends...
Do you know that loving is wanting to give something you don't have
to someone who doesn't want it?
Stop always trying to act so smart, it's exhausting!
But it's true! You don't have love, but you're always trying to give it to...
To someone who doesn't want it. You're repeating yourself.
Anyway, in Stein's case, it's not love.
Good. What is it, then?
- Just a phase in analysis. It'll pass. - Good.
- Oh, what if we went on a shopping spree? - A what?
A shopping spree to spend the money, our clients' money!
Our clients' money!
Come on!
I wonder what Henry would say?
What do you think he does with all his clients' money?
He travels.
I wonder why we bought all this stuff. You know, it's useless.
That's why! And it's so cheap.
It's very cheap!
Hello, this is Mr Stein speaking. I have to see you right away.
I'm downstairs and I'd like to come up.
It's Mr Stein! What do I do?
- Shall I let him in? - For God's sake, don't let him in.
Mr Stein! You're going to get pneumonia!
I know who was following me, Miss Saulnier.
Dr. Harriston. It's him.
I saw him in the park, without his suit coat.
But Dr. Harriston's in Paris, Mr Stein. He won't be back for another two weeks!
I swear.
I'd like to make an appointment with...
Dr. Saulnier.
Yes, it's... urgent.
Tomorrow?
Tomorrow at 5:00.
My name?
Wire...
John Wire.
Welcome home!
What happened?
- Are you getting married? - Oh, for God's sake, Dennis!
They robbed me blind.
Listen, it's simple, you say to her, "I'm Henry Harriston.
"You have no right to treat my customers..."
Patients. Like that, and I take my dog back and...
that's that.
Yeah, that's that. Here. You never know.
Oh, thank you. I'll go to the bank tomorrow.
So I say... I say, "I'm Dr. Henry Harriston..."
And that's that!
Are you feeling better today, sir?
Yes, yes.
Are you sure?
Quite sure.
Difficult childhood...
Anorexia...
I'm sorry, I'll be right with you.
Wire, John. John Wire.
John Wire. Beatrice Saulnier.
It's a pleasure to meet you. Telephone number?
The pleasure is all mine. Um...
718 954 3432.
That's Brooklyn.
Yes, it is.
Please...
Mr, uh... I'm sorry.
Yes, Wire, Mr. John Wire. It's no problem.
There's a problem, Mr. Wire, John Wire.
I'm so sorry.
I wasn't able to help you.
No?
You are the first and only one.
- Really? - Yes, the others...
Perhaps you better come... when Henry, uh...
I mean, Dr. Harriston's back.
I'm, um...
Dr. Harriston is...
I'm not, but he is...
You think so, you really think Dr. Harriston...
Dr. Harriston, of course. He's really good.
Very competent.
He knows what to do with... difficult cases.
- Doesn't he? - Yes. Yes, certainly, you're right.
He, uh, just must be a little...
A little?
Austere.
But a great, a very great psychoanalyst.
Yes, he probably is.
Whereas I...
It's best we stopping seeing each other, isn't it?
No.
No.
Oh, well, goodbye, Mr John Wire.
I'm really sorry I couldn't help you.
I'll walk you out to the... to the, um... elevator.
Let's get this over with.
Unless...
Yes, that's it... we have to see, to try.
That was just the first time. I mean, it happens...
That can happen, I guess. I guess, the...
the first time.
Of course, it can happen.
But not always.
Oh.
I have to walk you, three times a day!
You are...
different.
Different? How so?
Different from my other men. Uh... I mean, my other clients.
You don't react in the same way.
Don't I?
No. Not at all.
You're more, um...
secretive.
More closed up.
You must have had a traumatism...
that goes back further, deeply buried in your deepest depths, I would say.
Yes, that's it. That's the reason.
I think.
At least, I...
I hope.
Romeo, stop it. Stop it.
Do you like dogs?
Yes, I do, very much.
That's good. That's great.
I mean, uh, maybe.
Don't you find that their presence, I mean, it's...
as if they're in osmosis. When you feel bad, they...
They feel bad.
So you think so too? We have that in common?
Maybe.
Yes.
Yes, the next time...
I think it will go better. Yes, I think so.
Yes.
Yes, I think that next time, we'll have better...
better results.
Maybe. One never knows.
Is it true, though?
Uh... Yes, so, well...
I'll see you when? Tomorrow at 1:00.
I'll see you tomorrow, 1:00.
Aren't you forgetting something?
Mr. Wire...
I don't want anything from you. I wasn't able to help you this time.
Take it, Miss Saulnier, it's the rules. You have to play by the rules.
Dr. Harriston would never refuse money.
Never? Even when...
Never. Okay.
Goodbye, Mr. Wire.
Tomorrow, 1:00.
Bye, Miss Saulnier. Miss Saulnier, the plants,
in Dr. Harriston's office.
It's like a... a jungle in there, it's like a virgin forest.
It's luxuriant. It's... it's impressive.
Yeah, it's impressive.
- Goodbye, Mr. John Wire. - Goodbye.
You don't have the dog on a leash?
- Oh, no, he follows me everywhere. - Everywhere?
So?
- So what? - So, did you tell her?
What?
Did you tell here that you... that she... Well, that this is pure usurpation?
Oh, that.
What do you mean?
I don't know.
What do you mean, you don't know? This is incredible!
Yes, it is. It's incredible. It's incredible. Absolutely, you're right.
Next time, I'll tell her...
Next time.
Tomorrow. Um...
Next time? Tomorrow? You got to be kidding?
Yes! No, I mean...
I'll tell her... I'll tell her this just can't go on this way.
I don't think she understands.
She's, um...
I don't know, she's different.
For one thing, she's... unbelievably frank.
Huh.
So you didn't tell her a thing?
I couldn't.
The light. The plants.
The dog didn't recognise me, you know?
Couldn't, the plants, the dog?
Henry. Henry?
Are you feeling okay?
"Transference..."
Transference, I can't grasp it.
What are you doing? Are you becoming a specialist?
Are you stealing Henry Harriston's wardrobe too?
Just to sleep in.
His shirts are so comfortable!
You should get a look at yourself. I bet you haven't slept a wink all night.
Freud is dangerous reading.
Such a difficult profession sometimes!
Transference... I can't grasp it.
No one can.
They came for you this morning.
They're for me?!
Thanks God!
Thanks God, sure! They're for you.
- Sure. - Goodbye, Tim.
It's from Campton.
Campton!
An unmistakable sign of positive transference.
Positive, in what way?
It's a phase in analysis.
Act by which a subject, during the cure, places on to the analyst,
affection - positive transference -
or hostility - negative transference - which he felt in his childhood...
Anne, stop! Keep it simple, please!
- It's beyond my grasp. - What is?
Transference, Anne!
Don't be mean. Explain.
Okay. It's as if they love their mothers but they're scared of committing incest,
so they displace their incestuous desires onto you.
They live it out on the couch.
It's not dangerous, if you know what I mean.
He must not love his mother!
The tone of his voice at the door. So cold.
Oh, I wanted to disappear!
- I thought I... - No, thank you.
I have something to tell you.
Go and take it to your mother. She'll love it!
Anne. Hasn't the dog completely changed?
I don't know, I never notice.
Yes, he has changed, I swear! Henry didn't...
I told John Wire not to come back.
Good for you.
Then, I don't know...
I don't know what got into me. Something impelled me, a force.
The words came out. I asked him to come back.
So he's coming back?
I'll be able to help him.
Freud and all this stuff, it's very enlightening.
Yes. Well, it's not always.
He prefers Henry.
It's written all over his face.
Well, Henry is obviously amazing, but I...
I literally insisted. It was beyond my control.
- Look at the plants. - Yes?
Don't you think they look bizarre?
- Bizarre? - Yes, bizarre!
With Henry, they...
Oh, Henry.
And do you think that one day they'll get back like they were before?
- Like before? - Before...
No. Everything is always changing. It doesn't change back.
Oh.
I don't know how you can eat eggs for breakfast! They're indigestible.
The smell of them so early in the morning, oh, it turns my stomach!
Dorothy, do you like the soup?
Uh, I'm Julie... and I love the soup, it's just great.
Julie. Julie, Julie. So, you like the soup?
Uh-huh.
Henry?
- Yes? - How you doing?
I'm fine.
I'm fine. Fine.
Except there's this smell, it's...
It's a little strong, don't you think?
Your clothes... I'm afraid your clothes are going to melt with the clams.
The smell just turns my stomach.
I'm sorry, Julie.
Dorothy.
Dennis.
I must go.
It's just the smell.
It's making me sick.
It is too early to be eating this.
I'll see you soon.
Yes.
A crack!
I never noticed that before.
Oh, yes, a crack...
Yes, in the ceiling, did you see it?
It should be taken care of. You should tell Dr. Harriston.
He mustn't have noticed.
Have the painters come immediately. I mean, when he comes back.
The painters?
Yes, to repair it. It's chipping. How awful, I can't stand that. I can't...
I hate it when paint starts chipping. It's depressing.
Cracks in the walls, the paint is chipping,
carpets that are worn out.
- Worn out. - Yes.
It's been months since I've been back to see her.
I don't like going back to Brooklyn, to her place.
I prefer that she comes up here, to my place.
- She? - My mother.
Oh, yes.
The last time was for the engagement party.
I bought her a dress, still,
all these people, it wasn't working. It just... Not at all.
The dress was pretty.
The dress was pretty, it was too pretty. It didn't go with her hands.
Her hands...
Her hands, her worn hands.
Especially the nails. They're down to the bone.
Calcium deficiency, they say. That's easy to say.
Or else it's old age, which is easy to say too.
I looked at Lizbeth's mother's hands. Lizbeth was my fiancée...
Impeccable, smooth. Perfect calcium intake.
Clear skin, unwrinkled forehead.
But, still, you know, my mother looked happy.
Impressed and happy.
Proud of me, like the day I graduated, with my suit that was too tight.
And my mother didn't stop talking.
"Is that one a friend of yours? What's his name?
"Isn't he the son of that one over there? And him?"
Very, very loud.
She was so happy, she was so excited, yes.
Just like that night at Lizbeth's.
Oh, Lizbeth.
Yeah, happy, at first...
Afterwards, at dinner, I had the feeling she was forcing herself.
In any case, she was exhausted.
It was probably the effort of acting at ease in high society.
She kept looking at Lizbeth, so I spilt a glass of wine,
St-Emilion 1985.
I saw my mother's face drop.
A few days later, I went down to Brooklyn to see her, she wasn't expecting me.
I'm not comfortable with her any more.
I've lost the habit of being with people like her.
- And then... - And then?
And then I said to myself, if she was so worn out, so tired...
and her eyes, God...
it was on account of Harvard and I wasn't even able to speak with her any more.
Sitting there at the kitchen table, she said to me,
"God, how I want you to be happy."
She took my hands in hers, she said, "Your hands are so cold."
She held them for a long time, I wanted to pull them away.
Pull away my fucking hands, cold or hot, whatever...
She finally let them go, she warmed them up.
I left without... looking back.
Shaking.
You're crying...
Oh, no, it's just something in my eyes.
Go on.
Sorry to have unloaded all that stuff on you.
Oh, please, it's normal.
You love your mother, that's normal. That's what you're here for.
She's wonderful. I love her.
I can see her hands, her eyes. What strength!
- You know, I love my mother too. - Yes.
It's only normal to love your mother.
And there's no reason to be afraid of committing incest,
- that's what you're here for. - Yes.
Yes, I mean, when you lie on the couch, it's not like in the real world.
You're totally protected from everything.
You can displace.
For me, the worst thing about mothers is that they grow old and then they die.
Then, all of a sudden, you have... you have no mother...
and no father.
I'll see you on Wednesday... at 5:00.
- Yes. - Yes!
Oh, still...
He loves his mother.
"Fegato alla Veneziana". Very good.
What will you have with that? So?
- So what? - So nothing, nothing else.
Let's make it the veal marsala instead, I changed my mind.
- Did you say it? - What?
I said I changed my mind.
Finally say, "Listen, you don't have the right..."
I do not have the right to change my mind?
- Yes and no. - Why?
Because I prefer the veal. Unless you don't recommend it?
I don't know!
- You don't know? - I can't be certain.
- This is incredible. I mean... - You're telling me, incredible.
You're right. What's happening to me?
I shouldn't order the veal?
- It's a matter of taste. The liver... - The next time.
I should order the liver the next time? Why?
Your goose is cooked! How do you want it? Cooked!
I don't want it raw. And where did this goose come from all of a sudden?
I'll take the liver, but I want it well done.
Well done! Yeah, well done. So there's going to be another next time?
- Why not? - Yeah, why not?
- Of course. - Of course!
Well, maybe there won't be a next time.
Maybe, next time, I'll go across the street to Vinnie's.
- Love... - You love Vinnie's?
I love Beatrice.
Beatrice? I don't know it. Must be new.
I don't like French restaurants. Do you?
Love her? Well, why not, after all?
- So, did you tell her? - No.
You didn't have the guts.
The liver, innards, heart, guts, I've always been afraid to try all that.
You really should, just once.
Guts!
I never!
Oh, that movie was so bad!
I loved it.
The actors were awful,
the story was vain and the ending was unbearable!
I loved it.
You loved that happy ending, didn't you? You really did.
And the music, so schmaltzy,
when they look at each other like two cows in a field!
I loved it!
I felt so moved! I cried!
It's the most beautiful film I've seen in my life.
You know, he talked to me. He let me share his life, his feelings...
Who? That actor? That pale...
No, John, Mr. Wire.
But that's normal!
Yes, I suppose so, but...
But...
I suppose it's transference, but...
- But... - I felt something special.
You know, he's so sensitive!
It's your imagination.
Maybe, but...
Despite all this talk of transference,
I still have the feeling that he...
You have the feeling that he loves you!
I know what love is, and I...
Beatrice.
All this means is that his transference is incredibly strong.
So you don't think he's in love with me?
Me, Beatrice. Not his father, not his mother. Me!
Me, if you see what I mean. Me?
What, you?
- Does he love me, yes or no? - No.
And what if, for example, he...
He tries to kiss you?
So long as you're his analyst, he doesn't have the right.
Oh.
- And me? - You?! Even less so!
I see...
It's disappointing.
This is something new. A real pigsty!
Come with me, Edgard. Come here with Lizbeth!
Help me. What's wrong with him? It's as if I scare him!
He can't stay here. What a mess!
So you're not the maid!
Really, now... You! What a surprise!
- You don't look well... - I am, I am...
I am very well indeed.
He has such eclectic taste!
A housewife... Why not?
He loves his mother so much!
I'd have loved a mother like her too.
Someone who does everything for me, who kisses me,
who consoles me, who understands me...
Even if she is poor.
Like John's mother.
It's my dog.
It was a gift, actually.
Actually, a dog wasn't right for him.
And, given the circumstances, I fear for Edgard's education.
Come on, Edgard, come on, honey.
Come on, you can do it. Yeah. Oh, yes, Edgard. Yes!
First thing I'm going to do is to take him for a walk in the park.
Come on, Edgard.
Goodbye! And good luck with him. Good luck!
- Hi! - Hi!
- Where's the dog? - Someone took him.
- Who? - A very unhappy woman!
Really?
Edgard!
Yes, very unhappy.
Really?
He ran away from her.
So you let her take the dog?
She had the keys.
I should call Paris and tell Dr. Harriston.
No, no, no.
Well, if I were you, I wouldn't do that.
Why not? Romeo!
What is the point of worrying him? Edgard!
Well, that's true, but I think he had something going on with that woman.
Poor thing! Oh, no, I'd better warn him.
Why "poor thing"? She's not that bad.
I mean, if we're talking about Dr. Harriston's fiancée. Edgard!
She's everything I hate.
I mean, she must be repressing something very painful.
I could see that immediately.
Poor man! Romeo!
Who? Edgard! Who?
Henry! I mean, Dr. Harriston.
But, if he's in love with her, it must be some kind of disease.
He must love suffering.
They must make each other suffer.
Maybe you're right.
- Romeo! - Edgard!
Edgard?
Edgard!
Romeo?
Romeo?
Edgard.
Romeo?
Edgard!
He has changed a lot lately.
With Henry, he used to sleep a lot.
He lived in an anti-septic environment. What do you call it?
An obsessive universe.
Sombre. Fascinating!
I really think that this man is...
is very deep, very interior.
Someone a little...
Yes, in fact - someone a little like you. I mean, closed-up.
But that's curable. Some men can open up.
- Yes. Definitely. - Yes.
I wonder...
I wonder if she's ever been analysed.
She should be.
- Who should? - Lizbeth!
You should see how he keeps his shoes and... his shoes.
I don't know why, but when I saw his shoes all lined up and...
perfectly shined...
my heart dropped.
If at least one of them, had a little speck of dirt...
a blade of grass or... just a small leaf.
Oh, excuse me, I'm using up your time, John... Mr. Wire.
Oh, that suit fits you like a glove!
Yes.
Just be careful, you'll wrinkle Henry's suit.
Yes, I'll be careful.
I hope that Romeo doesn't catch pneumonia.
Miss Saulnier...
I know... I've been meaning to tell you that...
I know... Dr. Harriston very well.
Very, very well.
Obviously you do.
Well, the life of an analyst is really incredible!
Everything that goes on in an office, all those emotions.
You can get lost.
Yes, isn't that so?
I've been meaning to tell you that...
Mm-hm?
I wanted to tell you...
that, despite our situation...
Yes.
Me on this couch...
And me, in this chair...
Me lying down...
And me, sitting up...
I would like to tell you...
nevertheless, that...
that I am...
Some fuse has just blew, I'll take care of it!
The fusebox must be in the foyer.
I am Dr. Harriston and I...
Excuse me. You were saying that Mr. Harriston...
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
John...
I love you.
Excuse me?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Anne? What is it?
It's nothing, it's just a fuse!
Hurry, Anne, hurry.
Anne?
Henry, you know what?
What?
Write her a letter, a beautiful letter.
- You know how to write! - Yes!
Sorry.
No.
Well, leave a very tender message for her on your machine.
No.
Well, go knock at her door till she opens up.
Then use your keys, when she's not there,
and wait for her, in your bed, naked!
No, I'm telling you, Dennis, none of this works with her. Believe me.
None of that?
Well, that's strange. That's very strange.
I don't understand why you can't write her.
Write her, Henry, write her. Do me a favour. "Dear, dear Beatrice..."
"I love you!"
"You drive me wild. It's like a fever."
No. Tell me something more... more erotic.
"I'd like to..."
"I'd like to, um..."
"I can't sleep. I don't eat any more..."
No, not poetic, Henry. Erotic, violent and exciting.
"I warn you, Beatrice, I'm... I'm not a quiet man.
"I am violent... I'm...
"fucked up and I'm fed up and..."
No, Dennis. No letters. Absolutely not, Dennis. She doesn't...
She won't take declarations, she won't take messages.
She doesn't want men knocking on her door in the middle of the night,
or jumping into bed waiting for her.
- So? - When she find out who I am
and what I've been up to, that I've lied to her?
That I fixed her water leaks?
That I've... I've read all her letters?
That I've fooled around with her perfume?
Henry, you can't be telling me there's no solution to this.
There's only one that I can see.
It has to come from her. She's the one who has to say,
"Henry..." Well, John...
"I love you."
Hello?
It's for you, Mr. John Wire.
Yes? Yes!
It's Beatrice!
She wants to tell you that she loves you!
Yes, maybe.
Miss Saulnier?
Miss Saulnier, do you have something to tell me?
What about me?
Nothing neither.
Yeah.
Are you there? Hello?
Hello?
Are you there?
I can't hear a thing.
No more sessions? You're leaving?!
Tomorrow?! So soon?
But you can't!
Why? Because I...
I don't know why. I mean, because I'll miss you. Because...
My analysis. I mean, concerning my analysis.
Yes, I am still here. Are you?
What did you say?
Nothing. Say something, Beatrice.
Say it!
Oh.
You said goodbye.
She said goodbye. She said goodbye.
Are you still there? You're still there!
Miss Saulnier, I...
I love you.
She's gone.
Dennis, I'm desperate.
Yeah. Yeah, you told me already.
Whoa, you smell of beer.
Yeah, well, I guess I must have had a beer or two.
Yeah, or three or four, but who's counting?
I like to suffer like this.
This evening, I went to see my mother.
You know, I look like her.
She knows.
What does she know?
All of it!
You, me...
Face to face.
Sometimes she's full of sorrow.
Yeah.
Sometimes she's full of hope.
God only knows why.
Yeah.
She thinks I'm in love forever.
I'm afraid so.
You know, there's so many girls in the world and...
What's so funny?
You have a stain on your shirt.
Well, so do you.
You know what? I like this stain. I love it!
And these shoes! This is a wonderful neighbourhood!
It's a little scuzzy.
I love it because it's scuzzy.
Dennis, I'm so miserable!
God, how I envy these people!
Not me. I'm glad we were able to get out.
- Dennis... - What?
- So long. I'll see you soon. - So long, Henry.
Where you going, for God's sake?
- I'm going to Paris. - To Paris?!
Why? All the flights leave at night.
I'll call you!
Bon voyage.
Miss Saulnier, it's Campton. Don't let me down.
Miss Saulnier, don't hold it against me.
Ah, it's Henry's.
He wrote it!
A waiting list?
Are you sure? Not even in first class?
- No, sir. - Nothing?
Not even in business class? Check.
- Nothing? - Nothing. Nada.
Not even in tourist class?
Why the hell is everybody going to France all of a sudden?
I don't know. It's beautiful!
Drive fast. I can't take any more of this dog.
Miss?
Is there any chance?
I don't know yet. A lot of passengers have already checked in, though.
But they've not all checked in?
No, they've haven't all check in, but almost.
I must have just missed her.
You'll make it, don't worry.
Sir, you're in luck, there's one seat available.
Now, here's your boarding pass. Hurry, go.
No, sir, sir, this way! This way. Hurry.
Oh, I am so sorry, your plane just left. You're too late.
I just gave your ticket to a man on standby.
- Really? - Yes, ma'am. I'm so sorry.
You don't have to wait.
- I'll get a seat on the next one. - Are you sure?
Yeah, go ahead now.
Go ahead, I swear.
I hate goodbyes.
I detest them.
I can't stand them any more. They're awful.
Awful!
Even the word's awful.
- Yes. - Yes.
Yes.
Mm-hm.
Beatrice, my dear, you should really consider analysis.
Romeo? Romeo!
- Beatrice, you're back already? - Yes.
You look awful. Come in.
Henry!
I mean, Dr. Harriston?
Is that you?
You take care of the plants?
They look like a jungle!
A virgin forest.
Yes.
Luxuriant.
- Miss, um...? - Saulnier. Beatrice Saulnier.
Oh! You're back, Miss Saulnier, so soon?
Yes, Dr. Harriston.
Didn't you like it there?
Yes, Dr. Harriston, but...
But?
Something happened to me.
Something?
Yes. I'm...
It's very, very personal.
Personal?
Yes, but you know what to do with difficult cases. You...
You...
You are a psychoanalyst. You can hear it.
It's not as if it was in real life.
I...
I...
I...
love...
someone.
- Someone? - Yes, a, um...
- A... - A, um...
I love a man.
A man...
John. John Wire, Dr. Harriston.
- That man! - Yes.
Do you know him?
Maybe... I mean...
In a way.
Does he love you too?
Oh, no. Not at all.
Stop! Romeo! Stop.
- You have a dog, Miss Saulnier? - Yes.
Oh, no!
Yes, no?
No, I mean... it's yours.
He followed me. I couldn't help it. I didn't steal him, I swear. It's just...
I believe you.
- Yes? - Yes.
Why?
Well, he loves you.
With you... he sleeps less, he...
he's less sombre, he's less...
Less!
Yes, uh... But, Henry... I mean, Dr. Harriston...
- Yes. - He's your dog!
Yes. Poor Edgard!
He'd had such an austere life with me.
He must have had a traumatism that goes back further, deeply buried.
Intestinal disorders, but... that's curable.
I mean, some...
dogs...
can... open up.
In osmosis.
Oh, John!
Yes, Miss Saulnier. Welcome home.
Dr. Harriston, I mean, Henry...
I love you.
And you?
No, don't do that.
Give me a hand.
I think Campton has a problem.
He has lots of them.
I'm worried. Actually, he doesn't smell bad.
For your homecoming, I messed everything back up.
So you'd feel at home.
I do, but things seem different.
I did a lot of work.
I repaired the leak.
- There was one? - The firemen came.
John, uh... Henry.
Yes, it's Henry.
You scratch!
I scratch?
I threw your clothes on the floor.
To look like before.
This is my bed.
We'll have to share it now.
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get subtitles in any language from opensubtitles.com, and translate them here.