All language subtitles for 1990.Lacenaire (en)

THIS MOVIE IS DEDICATED TO GEORGES CONCHON

Come in gentlemen, come in.

Well.

To whom am I speaking?

Professor Tonnelier, chair
of phrenology at Hôtel Dieu.

Indeed, it's no small thing.

Dr. Brianchon is helping me
with my research.

What an idea!

So young and already a phrenologist.

I wasn't warned,
but I had to expect phrenology.

And gentlemen, I understand you.

It's about time you came
and… felt my head.

A little later and you would've found
me with my head under my arm.

That said, sorry to rush you,
but I have a lot to do today.

Please, let's go.

Sit down, please.

I'm sure you won't be long

to discover in me the characteristics
of an assassin like few others,

especially knowing it in advance.

Do you feel the crime bump?

Oh… it would be too easy.

Look for it, carefully.

There is no, strictly speaking,

protuberance announcing
a nature inclined to kill.

We must be content
with a set of concordant signs.

Which are sometimes contradictory.

So you seem to have,
not only a form of… intelligence.

Thank you.

-But also of benevolence.
-How about that.

-Ready Brianchon?
-Ready sir.

You sent for me?

Mr. Lebel, I'm not asking for the moon,

I'm just asking you not to steal any
more of my time without telling me.

Especially when I'm waiting
for Mr. Allard!

Lacenaire,

the chancellery only told me this morning

that these scientists were coming.

Why should I believe you?

Because it's the truth!

I didn't warn you because I had
to deal with the Police,

where I thought I could cancel Mr. Allard.

He was no longer there, he was on his
way, we crossed paths. That's it.

Do you want my word?

Not at all, Mr. Director!

And I haven't asked you
about Mrs. Lebel yet.

-How was last night?
-Not too bad.

The poor thing had three more
attacks, but suffocated only once.

Good to hear!
May this improvement be confirmed.

Well,

it looks like it's going to snow.

Who am I supposed to meet tonight?

Mr. Arago at 11:00.

Good, he always gives me
the energy to write.

Then Mr. Prosper Mérimée.

Good, he amuses me.

Then this pretty lady,
this Austrian princess

with an impossible name.

I think she's Hungarian.

Let's say Austro-Hungarian.

-Mr. Director.
-Yes?

I have…

a big favor to ask of you.

Go ahead!

It's about Avril, my young friend.

He didn't go easy on me at the trial, but…

don't think I'm calling him
"my friend" out of derision,

it's the truth.

Besides, he owes it to me to make
the long journey with me soon.

Probably the same day.

I'd like to talk to him first.

For a reconciliation?

Or a trial. With these people, you know…

-Today?
-Or tomorrow. Whenever you want.

Tonight. And if you ever
doubted my kindness,

I'll go so far as to have
a small dinner served for you.

Don't rush, they won't take it
out of your mouth.

You're so greedy!

Or maybe you decided not to talk to me?

Fine, I gave you up,

but didn't you think it was because
you gave me up first?

You had given me up a month earlier,
in Poissy prison,

to get you released from Poissy.

Where did you get that? It's all lies.

It's not. Mr. Allard told me.

So what? It's just a bird.

There's nothing worse than a ginger
to pit friends against one another.

-Him and the others.
-No.

I don't have your trust anymore?

But that's OK. You never had it.

I didn't like what you said at the trial.

I said so much! Remind me.

That you planned
on killing yourself like that.

I know you too well.

You can't expect me to believe
you were killing individuals

just to get a head shorter.

Why not?

You hang yourself, nobody cares.

With the guillotine,

the newspapers talk about it.

Think about it.

It becomes meaningful.

You didn't have to kill me with it.

Note that…

What?

-Nothing.
-Try me!

It's, I don't know which
savages burn their dead,

I heard that for an important death,

the king or whatever,

they burn his wife with him.

See? You are capable of reasoning!

Come on, man,
give me a hand with this fatty.

They didn't let it cook enough.

Avril,

I think I'd like you just for your laugh.

Excuse me for quoting myself,
but I wrote it yesterday.

"Your long, stupid, ferocious laugh".

Maybe,

but that's…

that blood. I can't help it,
it reminded me of others'.

And ours, not long from now.

No, see, not so much.

First of all, I'm not afraid.

Sometimes my hands shake,
but it's probably white wine.

Oh, that's beautiful.

That's beautiful!

Hold on.

Listen.

"And if they presume to accuse
my approach, I shall tell them:

'It's not me shaking, it's my legs.'"

Very good! And write: "Avril is the same".

-Write it.
-No.

It's too personal.

You know how to write,

write it down.

You're right. I'll write it
one of these nights.

I'll save you the rump,
I know you're fond of it.

The ground will be cold tomorrow.

Of course, in January.

-Lacenaire.
-Huh?

I didn't think we would be
leaving each other so soon.

-You have to get dressed now.
-It's a good thing, Mr. Lebel.

Let it end.

Mr. Allard is here as well.

How nice.

Mr. Director,

will I be allowed
to write three more lines

before I leave my last home?

"January 9, 1836.

They came to get me to do their duty.

But you who read this memoir,
where blood oozes from every page,

you who will only read them

when the executioner
has wiped the iron triangle

I will have reddened,

oh, keep me in your memory.

Adieu!"

Gentlemen, I'm all yours.

Mr. Allard, I thank you for coming

even though your position
did not require you to do so.

My friend, I had to.

Didn't you designate me for this deposit?

And the other duty too, will you keep it?

The other duty too, don't worry.

Your Honor.

Will you forgive me for having
taken up the court's attention?

It was, I assure you, in spite of myself.

I would have much preferred

to give your talent the space it deserves.

But you'll make up for it.

Trials which focus solely on the
accused are fortunately very rare.

-That's him!
-It's him!

Murderer!

Adieu, pal.

Adieu, buddy.

Father,

I'll make you happy.

I repent.

Let's be clear, not my crimes.

Only to have committed them
without knowing

they were depriving me of the immense
happiness I have since discovered.

Writing.

So don't rush to give me absolution

until you've read my work.

Catch her!

Catch her!

-My respects, sir.
-That's fine, thank you.

How did you know?

Mr. Allard, in the streets, people…

Is that his book?

Yes.

Please,

don't let it be said
that he had bad morals.

Of course!

What an idea.

Come on now.

You have me now.

He made me promise ten times,
and again this morning.

Do you think I'd go back on my word?

I don't claim that I'll replace him,

but on the other hand,
you'll see me more than him.

You must not have seen him often.

I sure didn't.

-Have you ever seen him with women?
-Yes, from time to time.

But they beat me.

An inconvenience you won't have with me.

I'm a widower.

Leave me here, I'm almost there.

Please, I'm already late.

-Just say you were with me.
-You don't know the workshop.

They fire people for less.

-So? I'll find you something better.
-I don't want you to.

But!

Come on!

My dear child, since this morning,
I have been the one to decide.

What's wrong with you?

To the house!

If she was epileptic,
she would have bitten her lip.

Would you let me draw her a bath
to finish calming her down?

Of course. Tell the cook
to make her favorite meal.

-And for you, sir?
-I'm not hungry.

I'll be in my room.

Careful, it's hot!

Scrub, darn it!

You stink of sweat!

Do you ever run?

Dear reader,

your curiosity has been so aroused
by my latest absent-mindedness

that I would be more than
ungrateful not to satisfy you.

His absent-mindedness!

Besides, what would I gain
by remaining silent?

I can see from here the swarm
of phrenologists, cranologists,

physiologists, anatomists,

who will pounce on my corpse without
giving it time to cool down.

I don't belong to myself anymore,
what will it be like after my death!

Anyway!

Lacenaire was benevolent.

I have irrefutable proof of this here,
at the birth of the forehead,

in a place Dr. Brianchon will specify
as soon as he finishes dreaming.

Where the growth that
measures sympathy is,

of which the subject
is capable for others.

Well…

I was astonished
to find this bump in Lacenaire

to be far more prominent
than on the best people

I've had under my fingers.

Prominent? No, erect!

It was hard for me, too.

I'll never be able to.

-You don't read at all?
-No.

Well, the newspaper, the titles.

But, my little girl, there'll be the book.

You know he asked me
to publish his memoirs.

In the book, it will be easier.

-You'll be able to read the book.
-When?

Soon.

In the meantime, I can always read
the most significant…

Compared to my family, Saint-Chamond
college seemed very pleasant.

I did so well that I got the prize
for excellence at year's end.

But what is it to triumph before
people who are nothing to you?

Ah! If my mother had been there
to put the crown on my head!

Will you like it here?

I will be difficult.

Go on.

But it was the holidays,
and I returned home.

For once, my father
did not receive me badly.

As for my mother, she held me
close, covering me with kisses,

as if she finally decided to love me.

That was the only moment of pure
happiness I was ever granted.

Ah! If only I could have died that day!

That's enough for tonight, I'm tired.

Where's Saint-Chamond?

Lacenaire, do you read the Gospel?

Every day.
It's the most beautiful reading.

It always moves me.

Then, fortunately, I reason.

When I see how men don't care,

not to mention the Church,
it kills my excitement.

Try to put the Gospels together and say…

St. Bartholomew's Day.

I'll buy you some nuts
if you can figure it out.

But… it's not the same thing.

I'm like everyone else,
I'd like to believe.

Only with God,
it's a bit like with my mother,

I'm afraid to have too high expectations.

-What do you mean?
-To worship them for nothing.

I was given a book on Reformed
Religion. Do you want it?

Oh no! That's terrible!

It may not be better,
but it's so much simpler!

Vétillard!

Lacenaire and Vétillard!

How long do I have to remind you
that I don't allow walking in pairs?

Who?

Are you going to tell us who slipped
this despicable book into your hands?

Honestly, it slipped my mind.

There are so many of these
in Saint-Chamond.

Do you hear that, Poulaillon?

-And much worse.
-He's lying! Vice is in his nature.

-Do you stand by what you say?
-Absolutely.

Victor!

Victor, come here!

Victor Vétillard,
your father should be proud of you.

He told me about it on the first day
of the holidays. The first night!

Victor,

what did Pierre-François say to you?

I don't remember.

About the Protestant heresy.

That it seemed like
a simpler religion than ours.

-And?
-That's all.

-What about Saint Bartholomew's Day?
-Oh, yes.

He thinks it doesn't go very well

with the teaching
of our Lord Jesus Christ.

There you go! Poor soul!

You can't thank Victor enough
for stopping you on such a fall.

Mr. Director,

I think I remember you giving me the book.

I think it was just absent-mindedness.

-It was with others.
-Poulaillon.

The fewer students you have,
the better off the families will be.

Count on me to spread the word
throughout the city of Lyon.

Lady, Gentlemen,

I can only think of the harsh discipline

of our good Jesuit fathers, the minor
seminary of Alix, for your boys.

No!

How embarrassing!

Lord, these are your children.
They're baptized, take communion!

-They believe in You.
-Oh no, not me.

I didn't have my communion.

-What did you say? It's impossible!
-Alas, yes.

I had health problems when it was time.

Once chicken pox, once mumps, etc.

-Your name?
-Lacenaire.

He's Vétillard, you can't make that up!

My God.

With the bad spirit that you were
already reproaching me for in Alix,

I pray the Lord I'm not
guillotined on a Friday,

it would bring me bad luck.

Oh… Ida!

You almost waited, that's too bad.

We were talking about religion.

This is Monsieur de Lusignan.

This exceptional being was,
have I told you enough,

the only comfort of my young years.

Monsieur de Lusignan,
this is Madam Karolyi de Nagynania,

whom I have no doubt that
public rumor has already told you

how much she means to me.

-Madam.
-Father.

I love you.

I'm sorry, it slipped, but it's true.

I never loved anyone but you two.

And Jesus too, I hope.

I don't know him as well!

Forgive me Paul, if I always
tease you a bit about God,

but you have to admit
that he really got back at me.

Peace be with you.

And with him. I believe
that the blame is shared.

Chabrol, be kind enough to turn around.

Did you like my Lusignan?

But I'm starting to think he's too good.

Since all this time,

did he not understand charity
is spent for nothing with Lacenaire?

Only Lacenaire can help Lacenaire.

Don't think you have to.

If it's just to tell me how much
you care, it's a lot.

How much I care?

I have tangible evidence that
this goes far beyond sentiment.

But did you see him?

When you're so perfect, you could
have the courtesy to be ugly!

I wonder why I didn't rape him.
I would've gotten three prayers.

I hate him!

He'd force you to become better.

I loved him from day one.

Chabrol, could we have some tea?

What a heartbreaker
this damn seminary was!

Without my Lusignan,
I would have died of boredom.

I'm not exaggerating,

boredom acts on me like rat poison.

I'd go so far as to say that all I've
done in my life, such as killing,

has been… don't laugh, to distract me.

How can you bear five hours a day of mass,

services, vespers? Sermons?

Sin, for these people, is not even
to be happy or to live but…

to dare to breathe.

I think that's when I first got
the idea to kill myself.

If I didn't do it, it must have been
to not prove them right.

The seminary made me what I am.

What are you reading, Pierre-François?

Sterne.

Sterne?

An English author, Mother.

As long as it's not Voltaire.

When did I support Voltaire?

He amuses me,
but I find him systematic, dry.

Mother, leave him to his nonsense.

You should kiss me instead.

Oh, yes! Kiss me!

Kiss me!

Kiss me 50 times.
No, let's make it 60 times!

Yes, 60 times!

Dear Mother…

51, 52, 55…

56, 57, 58, 59, 60.

Rascal. If your father knew!

How could he?

My brother won't tell him.

You won't either, right?

Rascal!

I hope you're using that plurally.

But don't cry out.

Think about Father.

Imagine his pain if he were to learn
by chance, from the servants,

that your dear Lucien

felt too cowardly
to steal from you himself.

-Liar!
-Isn't that what he just confessed?

Thief! Thief!

Sure.

But who did you tell to hide
your keys under your bolster?

To that idiot or to me?

To your beloved eldest,
or the unworthy youngest?

As if I remembered.

Will you at least admit that his
"Kiss me, Mother!"

were to tell me:
"You can go, I'll put her to sleep"?

Poor Lucien.

He must've really needed these 60 francs!

How about we talk about me for a change?

There are two kinds of men,

those who dream
all their lives of doing evil

but will never dare: my brother.

And those who have found
the courage to do so: me.

You'd say stealing from one's parents
is hardly an advance on inheritance,

but it's terrible how you get used to it.

You cannot know
the confidence that came to me

since I started stealing from you.

It's that composure that terrifies me.

Where will it take me?

Assuming you like me at all,

you'd be as scared of it as I am.

For you know I would never have
allowed myself to do such things

if only you loved me a little bit.

Yes…

Oh! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!

Forgive me.

But I think about tomorrow,
when you'll no longer forgive me.

Ouch.

Father?

Father?

Do you think it's Christian
to pick on runts?

We're kicking you out!

Good idea!

That way, you won't have to worry about

putting your favorites before me.

Last year, you stole four awards from me.

Your father has come to get you.

He'll punish you better than us,

as you've hurt him so much.

-Broken.
-Hello, Dad.

Did you remember to bring me a wig?

-Get up!
-That's what I was doing.

The Abbot insisted on being here.

Express your repentance to him.

Lacenaire, I forgive you.

Of course.

You have to.

-Stop reasoning!
-God forbid!

I am sure the Abbot understands me.

Let's keep this between us, but it's
out of an excess of tenderness

that he picks on the little ones.

Ask them, they'll tell you
the kindness he inflicts on them,

when he's not pinking them.

Isn't it true, Abbot, that you
can be a caressing priest?

-Strike a man of the cloth!
-Yes, Father.

-Shame him!
-Yes, Father.

Stop saying "yes, Father"!

Can a son do worse to his parents?

No, Father.

Nowadays, every trade has its worries,

but those we face in the silk
industry are serious, very serious.

Louis XVIII did not do us any good!

The emperor prevented foreigners
from grazing on our backs.

Cheers!

-Oh, tripes!
-Oh, tripes!

-Let's drink!
-Cheers!

I made them for you.

It's soft!

-I wouldn't have thought.
-Is that so?

Touch it!

Touch it!

Soft? Yeah, right!

-Are you going to join the cloth?
-Oh no! On the contrary.

Lust.

No, Father.

Well yes… but it still seems
like such a big word to me.

-That's all you needed!
-Yes, that's what I thought.

Is there anything you've spared me?

No, Father, some days are just like that.

To the Breteaux!

-It's for tomorrow.
-What?

The guillotine.

Earlier, for example,

with this woman who
was not sparing her ardor,

I've seen how much you exaggerate it.

I thought to myself: "Is that all it is?"

A full cart, it seems.

Unless you can judge the first time?

Good!

If His Majesty knew the harm he does
us abroad by guillotining so little.

Or are there some dispositions
I don't have?

An innate taste for debauchery? A need?

Yes!

It is here!

It's so beautiful!

So simple now.

So light when you remember the Terror!

That will do. That will do.

Look! Look where you'll end up!

Other bourgeois must promise
that to their offspring,

but in his case, he meant it,
it made an impression on me.

How many times, my dear Arago,
was I guillotined in my dreams?

Cut.

So I'm afraid my actual execution
won't have

the charm of novelty for me.

Oh! Lacenaire, Lacenaire…

That's not really a joke.

I'm beyond that.

You'll see in my memoirs
how I followed your advice:

everything for emotion.

My turn to shuffle.

You still don't want me to read it?

Would you oblige me by not looking
at the bottom card when I cut?

Ah. You have a good eye.

Are you surprised?

Mr. Lacenaire, there are three
English ladies in the courtyard

asking to visit you.

Chabrol!

Tell them yes, but tomorrow,
and only one: the yellow one.

Admirable decree. And with
such tone, what a situation!

We can switch whenever you'd like.

You owe me 16 louis.

I'll get them to the person we know.

Discreetly.
She can't know where it comes from.

I'm starting to get used to it.

So many mysteries!

Is she your daughter?

Do I look like a father?

Fate is blind, but it won't
give me a daughter!

It was a very dark, very cold night.

She was crying very hard, clinging to me.

She was only seven years old
and had no one.

I was very drunk, I felt sorry for her.

Will that be enough for you as…
literature?

I can't be pathetic for long.

What do you think about Mr. Allard?

Only good things, why?

It's him you see, that I have
entrusted to take care of the girl.

Starting now?

No, no…

After…

But I wonder.

A police officer?

With whom you do spend every morning.

Trust cannot be ordered.

But with you, Arago, it's different.

There are feelings between us.

I love you.

I'm flattered.

Don't mention it, it could harm you.

But nothing will have better
sustained my sad end

than the air you create around you,

this gaiety.

All this happiness of freedom that
you knew how to communicate to me,

from writer to writer, if you will.

With Allard, she'll have what she needs.

-With you, she would have had spirit.
-Ah!

If I could do it again!

Alas, what is said is said.

Except that I could always arrange

to give her some of that air
you're talking about.

-From time to time.
-Oh, that would be nice!

That would be nice.

Buy La Quotidienne!
"Lacenaire paid the price"!

-Buy La Quotidienne!
-"Lacenaire died a coward"!

Read Le Temps! "Lacenaire died a coward"!

"Lacenaire died a coward"! Read Le Temps!

"Lacenaire paid the price"!
Buy La Quotidienne!

Read Le Temps!

"Lacenaire paid the price"!
Buy La Quotidienne!

"Lacenaire died a coward"! Read Le Temps!

Villavard!

Mr. Allard?

Sir, let me express my disgust
with your newspaper.

-Should I consider myself offended?
-As you wish.

-It's up to you.
-Will you accept my apology?

I don't see the need.

When you write, or let someone else
write that Lacenaire died a coward,

you don't apologize,
you say: "I was there."

-Were you there?
-No.

I was. This allows me to say
that Lacenaire took his punishment

with a courage that I wish
for us all in the face of death.

I have a correction with me
I'll take to your offices right away.

-Will you publish it?
-Tomorrow.

On my honor.

LE TEMPS
THE NEWSPAPER OF PROGRESS

Come in.

-Hello.
-Hello.

-So this is it?
-Yes.

Sit down.

How's the read?

Interesting? Curious? Passionate?

All three.

It's captivating.

Besides you, who has read it?

-The editor, Mr. Bénazard.
-Ah, Bénazard!

You weren't expecting a literary opinion?

Our friend only asked me
to give him a good impact.

Mr. Bénazard is my best option to do so.

God willing. What's his company again?

Novelty dealers.

I never thought of seeking
him out as my publisher.

Or maybe for the preface.

I didn't think of bothering you
for a preface.

Lacenaire did.

-He didn't tell me.
-Did he tell you everything?

I'll read it
and let you know what I think.

I don't think so.

-What are you doing here?
-Nothing, Godfather. I was bored.

-Go be bored somewhere else.
-No, please.

-So it's you?
-Yes.

His dearest Hermine.

Yes.

Why didn't he tell me how pretty
you are? So delicate!

And those eyes!

Mr. Allard, I have to kiss her.

He often told me about

that terrible night when your two
miseries brought you together!

Given to each other, so to speak.

I'm sure he told you as well?

No.

Is this Mr. Arago's residence?

Who should I announce?

Hermine.

-You'll see, they're amazing.
-No, thank you.

The last thing we need is for
too many cuts to suggest

that there may have been collusion
between you, Chief of Security,

and myself, the Head of Censorship,

to mutilate the book.

Let's not give in to the perfidy
of the Republicans.

Rest assured, I've prepared a brief
foreword that should disarm them.

I explain that I'm not intervening
as a police officer, but as a friend.

Friend of a Lacenaire,
is this appropriate?

No.

I agreed to another suggestion:
partnering with a great writer.

Mr. Jacques Arago.

I read it. My dear Pertuizet,
thank you very much.

It went far beyond
my greatest expectations.

-I have my preface.
-There will be no preface.

A foreword will suffice. From me.

We'll see.

Take a seat.

Also, the whole first part,
childhood and adolescence,

seems to me that it can wait.

Even though it abounds
in anti-clerical notations,

I didn't find too much profanity in it.

Let's not confuse
profanity with authorship.

That's what I'm saying!

I therefore propose that we begin
our examination at the first killing.

Five times 100 pounds makes 500,

plus 20, plus three.

But I'll round it up to 520.
How's that, little guy?

I have 20 on me.

Give it.

When can you get the rest?

-Within eight days?
-No.

Tomorrow night.

Douchy.

You can trust him, he has it,
his father has money.

I'm told your father
is well-known around here.

-But do you have any honor?
-Probably more than you.

Ah.

So the day after tomorrow at midnight.

500 pounds, really?

Do I make the military laws?

Do you see me in arms?

Would you accept people
saying, throughout Lyon,

that Mr. Lacenaire is reluctant
to pay the unfortunate 500 pounds

that would save his son from wasting
his best years in a regiment?

It was a matter of conscience,
I knew I didn't have the money here.

-Tomorrow, you say?
-Tomorrow night.

-This boy has another proposal.
-At 500?

So they say.
And he's giving his answer on Friday.

He's raising the stakes.

Probably. But he has us.

I'm having lunch later with my banker, so…

a little more, a little less…

You'll get your 500 pounds.

Since you have honor, I don't want
to be left out, I'll count later.

Come, let's drink.

Don't bother, I'll drink by myself.

I knew that the military state
wouldn't suit me,

but I had no choice.

And the barracks would allow me to
wait quietly for my father's death,

which would make me rich and free.

-Do we leave that?
-I think so.

Because, keep reading.

But perhaps I was mainly seeking
to preserve myself from myself.

To delay a little bit the disasters

that I already knew would
inevitably come about one day.

-Not too damaged?
-A little.

Not bad.

At ease.

Lacenaire, what would we be without you?

You'd be working, sir.

Young people who have any talent,

be sure to hide it if you ever
have to put on the uniform.

You won't find anyone
lazier than an officer.

Those of Montpellier had only two
concerns: billiards and women.

So what luck for them that
a new recruit could write and count!

So everything had fallen into my lap:
weapons, meats, bread, salt.

Everything.

AT THE BUTCHERS' CIRCLE

Douchy…

Douchy?

Isn't it… Davenaire!

Lacenaire.

What the hell are you doing here?

Business.

My business, you know?

And you're a soldier now!

I didn't expect that!

Tell me about it!

It's on me.

Oh…

Oh, my Douchy!

What a treat!

You treated me like a prince.

-I kind of owed you that, didn't I?
-So many wouldn't have done so.

Let's go this way.

-How far away is that brothel?
-15 minutes at most.

I still can't believe it.

Two sisters, at home, in their
little house, on their own?

That's right!

-How old?
-18, 20.

-Blondes or brunettes?
-One blonde, one redhead.

-Complacent?
-Better: they ask for more.

Can we have both? Together, I mean.

Ah! Yes, if you have enough.

-I do!
-How much?

-Plenty.
-Go right, it's a shortcut.

It's been more than 15 minutes.

Don't complain, it's in your
best interest, it's your last.

Oh! Easy!

What is it, Douchy?

You can't do that, there are rules!

If we killed every time we lost!

Fair enough, but after you, I'll stop.

Why me?

Do you think I cheated?

A little. The bottom card,
when it suited you.

You know… it happens a lot,
I'm not the only one!

It was more than once!

For example,

the four kings under the deck
with a slight of hand.

-All four? Impossible.
-No, I tried.

It takes a long time to learn,
but you get there.

-I can pay you back.
-Don't be silly.

You have honor, I have honor,
we'll settle this with honor.

Pick one.

-You think so?
-We have to.

Five paces, OK?

SALE BY AUCTION

IN THE NAME OF THE KING, THIS ESTATE
WILL BE SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER.

SEE MR. BUFNOIR
NOTARY IN LYON

How lonely one can be in the world

with a father who went bankrupt!

In the end, one would prefer
that he had disappeared for real,

but… leaving you a little something.

So I found myself both
poor and a deserter.

My boy, you're absolutely right,
there's only Paris.

Except for…

This? They don't even come close!

But… otherwise, there's only Paris.

What are you going to do there?

Showbusiness, opera, whatever I can find.

You're a musician?

No, a writer.

ALPHONSE DAMOISEAU
PUBLIC WRITER

But you become the writer you can be.

Don't you think we should
add something like:

"Minister, I have always
hated the Revolution,

and the emperor even more"?

No. "Even more" would imply

that you don't completely
hate the Revolution.

Let's say "I've always… harbored

an equal abhorrence…

for the Republic

and for the usurper".

Then the rest, without change.
"I therefore believe, Minister,

that I am more than deserving
of a pension of 1,000 francs."

Lacenaire.

I'll be right with you, Mr. Alphonse.

"And to say that I am Your Excellency's
servant is an understatement,

I prostrate myself at your feet,
drunk with hope and respect."

Oh! Perfect! Give me that.

I'm running home to write it
in my own handwriting.

Lacenaire,
what I have to say to you is serious.

You know I was an officer for a long time.

So don't be surprised if I put
the military above all else.

Please understand that for me,
there's the army…

and everything else.

I understand all too well.

In the 18 months that
you've been here, I've lost count

of the number of good clients
your talent has brought me.

-But…
-Why "but"?

Sir, you taught me that.

When a paragraph gets too long,
period and "but…"

My best friend was another
soldier, Captain Legrand.

He died in my arms

by making me promise
to be a second father to his son.

That son comes home tomorrow, after
five years of service in the army.

I doubt he measures up to you,

but I can't afford to keep you both.

Goodbye, sir.

I appreciate your honesty.

I'm grateful for yours.

For let us also beware of honest
paragraphs that become too long:

after a year and a half, I
didn't see much point in it anymore.

So what was he supposed to do, but steal?

Six francs here and there

For his poor little girl, His Herminette

Will you love me, my beautiful?
Will you love me?

You will, for as soon as I saw you,
I thought: "It's her

"I chose her"

So you shall have me In your bed

To hell with all morals
To the tune of this carnival

And to hell with greed She was now my vice

But I found myself at a loss
When the wind chill came.

"I'm starving".

Well.

He discovers Vidocq's memoirs
and devours them.

So be it. But is it essential
to let him proclaim:

"So I resolved to become
the scourge of humanity"?

-Does that shock you? He did.
-Let me finish!

What worries me, what terrifies me,

is when he explains why he's doing it.

"To realize my big idea,

that which I bequeath to all my
brethren who are soaked in injustice:

suicide by guillotine".

Are you afraid of a contagion?

On young people! I know them,
they'll think it's such a good idea!

Tomorrow, you will have 20,
30 of these suicides.

With what is the logical condition:

slaughter, murder, kill.

You want a massacre?

Yes, you know better than us

on how to deal with youth.

A person of our acquaintance told
me of your exploits in this matter.

But in fact, what do you want to remove?

Just "suicide by guillotine"
or the whole page?

The page.

Well, you and literature!

But let's reread together.
What does the author tell us?

That he didn't yet feel strong enough
to kill himself. He tells us:

"I had to find the arms".
But where? In prison, of course!

So he steals to get put there.

He steals in full view of your officers,

and with such flair!
Because what does he steal?

The biggest thing there is: a carriage!

I especially note this sentence:

"Yes, it was necessary for me
to remain in prison

the time to discover one of those
fatally organized for crime

"without yet suspecting it themselves."

Nice language, huh? Police are not
everything, there's the reader, too.

If not for the theft of the carriage,
how would the reader understand

that if he finds Lacenaire in prison,
it's because Lacenaire wanted it?

Guys like you say, I'd be surprised
if you found any in Poissy.

I can only think of one
that might work out.

He got 20 years.

-What about you?
-Four.

Including two.

-Two more to go.
-Too bad.

Why?

You think I would have kicked you?

Maybe.

Are you really brave?

I don't know.

Have you ever stabbed anyone?

Silence, damnit!

Yes, once.

Not stabbed, killed.

-For revenge.
-Then you can't count it.

Where there's pleasure, there's no murder.

Oh!

Don't cry, little Bâton.

You haven't lost your Avril yet.

Hey, new guy,
don't let him worry about you, OK?

I'm not going to give you
a big gift, he's nothing.

-But he gets out in six months.
-Seven.

You in eight.

He can help you a little.

Page 33, six lines crossed out.

Page 46, nine lines. Any objections?

Page 59, five words.

-"Suicide by guillotine".
-Yes. No regrets?

-Yes, it's stupid.
-Thank you.

-You're welcome.
-Page 66,

four lines.

BOOKSTORE

Seriously, did you think you'd be in it?

Yes and no.

I'm not sure what I expected,

a little sign. A passing hello.

Perhaps that was too much to ask of him.

I haven't read it all,
but to me, he seems fixated

on events where he can take the lead.

-Not easy when you're around.
-Do you think so?

So let's say he didn't want
to harm you in the minds of fools.

Madam…

forgive me.

I have always been a satyr
seeking to satisfy his passions…

brutal passions.

I'll forgive you that easily.

It was seeing your face
all of a sudden that made me…

stop.

Can you be any kinder?

To tell you the truth, I wonder
if I'll ever be able to bed a woman.

I'm sorry?

I mean a proper woman.

A woman who imposes herself on me.

I need either resistance or street girls.

Rape or debauchery.

Why am I telling you this?

Because you're saying it well.

She doesn't believe me?

Look at this rascal
checking behind my back!

Am I complaining about not being there?

Three loud ones!

Now, what do you say to your pretend papa?

Goodnight, pretend Papa.

Happy birthday, etc.

It's so beautiful!

Well, it's all I could do.
I didn't steal it, I bought it.

-You shouldn't have!
-I did.

Papa…

My Papa.

My dear Papa.

Try to call me Papa again
and I'll stick you in the orphanage.

BOOKSTORE

Oh…

-How's Bâton doing?
-Great!

-And Avril?
-Still tall and handsome.

He says hi.

Coachman, to Common Sense!
To the Republicans.

Believe me, I wouldn't have allowed
myself to walk through your door

if I didn't arrive at a truly crucial
moment for my future.

But it depends on you,
my dear Mr. Vigouroux,

that I'm trying to be honest again

or that I should go back
to stealing, if not worse.

-Oh, God forbid.
-God and you!

God perhaps, but above all
the famous devotion

that you show to the victims
of social injustice.

Unwavering, I hear.

Remember the poems
I wrote to you from behind bars?

I think so.

"Oh… yes, My God.

I want to understand You.

Yes, you know,

I groaned with doubt."

"To my heart, O God, please descend

If my heart cannot reach you."

Dreadful.

-No?
-Oh…

I was looking for a philanthropist.

I knew these poems were mediocre.

Is it my fault that you
thought they were great?

Is it my fault that you've
pushed me into political song?

Is it my fault that your
anti-monarchist friends cried wonder?

What made you promise me 50 francs

for every song you publish?

I sent you 17,
how many have you published?

None that I know of.

-Two.
-Well, largely modified.

Hardly. But signed with your name!

You owe me 100 francs.

The best I can do
is a quest on your behalf

in Republican circles.

The least I can do is kill you.

How about the money for the knife?

Oh, my dear Bâton…

Anything else?

In Poissy lately,
who was taking care of Avril?

No one. No one, my dear Bâton!

I'm not talking about that,
I'm talking about his underwear.

Who washed it for him?

-Him.
-That must've been a sight.

In a way, you're finer than Avril.

Maybe even smarter.

More delicate.

-He's never delicate.
-187.

In two nights? What a nice number.

10, 15, 25, 35.

Black loses.

10, 11, 21.

31. Red wins.

My dear Lambolley, I still owe you 1,700.

-I'm ashamed!
-Why?

Are we not from the same circle?

Tomorrow night? Without fail?

Gentlemen… It was an honor.

Red wins.

My compliments, sir.

Some people can't lose, but you can win.

-Too kind.
-Ah, but I mean it!

There's something in all your ways

that makes people
talk to you from the heart.

Look, I didn't expect to play tonight,

and now I have to go home
to get money to play with.

May I ask you to lend me 20 louis?

Scoundrel!

Crook!

This is unbearable!

-Where's the director?
-The director!

Plogonnec, since when
do you allow begging?

No such thing here, you hear?

-Your name?
-Bâton!

What if he doesn't come out alone?

We'll follow him until he is.

What if he takes a carriage?

Have you seen any?

No.

What if he lost
and has nothing left on him?

You already said that.

It would be better if he had
as much as last night.

We shall see.

Aren't you afraid we'll see too late?

That's where I find you better than Avril.

He would've already slapped me.

Ah!

Help!

Help!

Help! Help!

Murderer!

Murderer! Murderer!

What a mess!

If I'd known!

Are you mad?

"By the fault of a coward,

I lacked the murder and the money
that would have made me happy."

I did stab him! Look!

It proves that I wouldn't be afraid,
if only I knew how to do it.

What are you waiting for
to find me one who knows?

I keep looking!

You can count on me.

Soon.

Really, soon.

François? Last name?

Just François.

That's my name.

That's his name.

"I,

the undersigned

Mahossier…"

"I, the undersigned Mahossier…"

BANK

-And you are?
-François. François Gaillard.

Please have a seat, Mr. Gaillard.

Ah! Bad payers!

The canker of our time!

You could have made him spit it out.

No offense, Mr. Gaillard,
but weren't you a little too lenient

toward this Mahossier?

I'm afraid so, but is one
in control of one's sympathy?

Knowing he was trying
to get back on his feet,

I couldn't see myself strangling
him for so little money.

Not so little.

Negligible I tell you,
when you think of the many hard jobs

this poor boy is forced to take.

By the way, tell your collector not
to come to Montorgueil Street

until the end of the day, otherwise
he won't find the bird in the nest.

At the stroke of six?

Or seven. More like seven.

MONTORGUEIL STREET

Why did you tell them to come so late?

What do you think?

Well, we just have to wait now.

It's better than a knife.

It's a file.

It's not meant for cutting,
but if you sharpen it a bunch,

it could cut better than a knife.

-I'm teaching you lots, huh?
-Mm!

Do you know why I work with a file?

Because the blade of a knife can break,

but a file never breaks.

I have lots to teach you.

-Why did you say so late?
-The satchel.

Yeah?

The later you take it, the fuller it is.

Why?

4TH FLOOR

-Huh… Mahossier, Gustave?
-It's me.

I'm here on behalf of Mr. Gaillard,

to recover the sum of…

700 francs. I was expecting you.

Plus the interests, that makes?

175 francs and 90 cents.

So 875 francs and 90 cents.

I have the money. Come on.

Go get it, we'll count here.

Thief!

Thief!

Thief! Thief!

Thief!

Thief!

-Thief!
-Thief!

-Thief!
-Thief!

Thief!

Thief!

Coachman, Temple boulevard! To the grocer.

99!

100!

Oh!

101!

Isn't that our friend Chardon?

Chardon!

Come shake my hand, I won't eat you!

Nice of you to stop by!

I couldn't not come.

I heard you got out.

You live close enough.

-Still on Cheval Rouge Street?
-Still.

-And your mother?
-Old.

Old.

Let's talk little, let's talk well.

-Get the hell out. You're too much.
-Why?

Because!

Where do I wait for you?

Nowhere. Don't wait for me anymore.

-What about him?
-He's solid.

Surely you've heard of our friend Chardon?

Of course!

Aka Aunt Madeleine!

That's it. See?

You don't have to count, it's 200 francs.

Can you believe the honesty?
Four years later!

See, I thought it would be more.
I was thinking 500.

Me too.

I'll tell you one thing,
your gold ewer wasn't gold.

It wasn't even gilded silver.

Just gilding on brass.

It gave us a hard time!

Back then? Oh!

What about now,

Aunt Madeleine…

You have any less?

There are fewer nightingales,
but hardly any buyers.

The merchandise would be fine,
there's some nice stuff,

but it takes at least
two months to unload it.

Mm-mm.

CHEVAL ROUGE STREET

Who is it?

Police! Open up!

We should split up for a while.

You'd stay here, I'd be elsewhere.

-Where?
-Traveling.

-Far?
-In Franche-Comté.

I don't know where that is.

-Then in Burgundy.
-Yeah, good wines!

Listen to me.

My share from Cheval Rouge Street,

you keep it for yourself.
I give it to you.

What are you going to live on in Burgundy?

My talent.

Yeah, right! You have a hit in mind?

Against who?

No one. Banks.

Would you mind explaining?

No. But it would take time.

Aren't you coming to bed?

Oh!

Stop!

Stop!

Stop it!

Wow!

My share…

I'm leaving it to you so you don't
need anything until I return.

If all goes well, I'll bring back
what it takes to work big, together,

do you understand?

You'll wait for me without
moving, quiet like Baptiste.

Don't steal, drink less,
repeat to yourself every morning:

"Lacenaire told me to play dead,
I'm playing dead."

-Say it!
-I'm playing dead.

"I'm waiting for Lacenaire".

I'm waiting for Lacenaire
who's in Burgundy!

You're forgetting about Versailles.

It's not every day we get a whole night

to clean out some rich guy's entire house.

I say we have to do
Versailles before you leave.

No.

Why? There won't even be anyone to kill.

You once said to me: "Where
there's fun, there's no killing."

You know what I say to you? Where
there's no killing, there's no fun.

Yeah, but you're special.

I don't argue with crazy people.

-You're right, good night.
-Good night.

I'm warning you, if you
don't want in, I'll ask François.

-It bothers you, doesn't it?
-No, but it worries me.

I didn't know you were in such
a hurry to return to Poissy.

François won't cut it.

-Detective.
-Well!

Him again!

Can I talk to you, Mr. Canler?

Of course.
With you, it's always… a pleasure.

Cheval Rouge Street, the Chardons…

Yes?

The murderer isn't far.

He's there on the bench.

Interesting.

Do you have anything to tell me?

Maybe, Mr. Canler.

Montorgueil Street was François.

Who was the other guy?

-There were two of them.
-I don't know.

You do.

Sit down.

Would it matter, if I remembered?

That would speak for you.

The other guy is Lacenaire.

I can't guarantee the name,
it could be fake.

Do you have an address?

I did. But not anymore.

-He left.
-Where?

In Burgundy, I heard.

Where? Beaune? Dijon?

-Maybe, I don't know.
-Do you know about the letters of credit?

-Did he tell you about them?
-No.

Promissory notes?

No.

He just mentioned a bank.

That's enough, Canler.

You see, when I give, I give.
Make sure you consider it.

I'm afraid not, my dear Avril.

The trouble is, there were two guys
at Cheval Rouge Street, too.

Including you.

I swear to you, no! On my honor.

Two, including you, according to François,

who doesn't have much honor either.

But…

let's wait to get our hands
on this Lacenaire.

Hello sir.

Hello sir.

Did you have a nice trip from Dijon?

Chalon-sur-Saône, more exactly.

Excellent.

Well, let's talk.

Lately, you've been
calling yourself Jacob Lévy.

Who were you hoping
to fool under this alias?

Under this name, sir.

Dispense with the slang,
I understand French quite well.

We knew of a Bâton in the past.

Exactly.

-A Gaillard.
-Exactly.

A Mahossier.

Indeed.

But good job connecting them!

It proves there's still
a police force in France.

Why "still"?

I'd say more and more,
working better and better.

Thanks to you, sir.

Lacenaire…

Can we stop at Lacenaire?

-Definitively?
-Yes, yes.

Lacenaire, if you'll excuse my slang,

I'll excuse your bullshit.

Sir, we can see that you have no idea
how much praise your name is getting

in the streets.

May I confess that…

the more I heard about you,
the more I longed to meet you?

Don't be a show-off, I know the drill.

I've done a lot of things in my life,
but I've never been a show-off.

When you know me better,

you'll see that my words
rarely go beyond my thoughts.

It's rather my thought
that would exceed my words,

but I make sure no one notices.

Oh no, please!
Even a small role requires props.

I don't remember ever doing so much
in 15 days of questioning.

Me neither, sir.

Are you saying that
we have let ourselves go?

No. With you, everything has its interest.

Lacenaire.

I'm quite sad to think that we won't
be seeing each other anymore.

I am as much as you are, believe it.

Let's hope you get along
with your examining magistrate.

I'm almost envious of him.

Why? You know it won't be the same.

-Not the same agreement?
-The agreement, perhaps.

But one can tune in without enjoying it.

Pleasure presupposes
a little mutual esteem.

A little?

It's up to you.

I understand it's not very pleasant

to have any regard for someone like me,

but it's not your fault,
it's the language.

I have a language you wouldn't
expect from an assassin.

I know it and I use it.

Yes, I owe you one last confession:

I like to seduce.

-And dominate.
-Yes.

Probably because it's the only
happiness society has allowed me.

Do you feel that you have dominated me?

No.

Well, goodbye, Mr. Allard.

Think of me from time to time.

I'll be thinking of you.

To complete the portrait of the accused,

François said he installed floors,
Avril said he was a carpenter

and Lacenaire said
he was a travelling salesman.

In reference to your
recent trips to Burgundy?

Well, Your Honor, I had to say something.

But since you're calling on me,
I'll say two words.

With my permission.

But this is just a tribute
to the Chief of Security,

and I feel obliged to pay it.

Mr. Allard had a great interest in
getting me to confess,

and another wouldn't have
questioned the methods to get it.

Well, he didn't tell me a single lie

and not a single fact that has not
been proved to me afterwards.

He has always been frank,
simple and loyal to me.

I'm tempted to believe that
our country has never known

a great police officer of this caliber,

I mean shying away from any procedure
of which he would be ashamed,

even in front of hardened criminals.

He has never questioned me
without me taking pleasure in it,

I have never left him without regret.

Are you done?

I'm done, Your Honor.

My lawyer is probably very talented,
but what does he know about my case?

What I told him, that is, almost nothing.

No, only I can present each
of my crimes in its true light.

So what do you want?

The real truth or a banal
exercise in rhetoric?

Watch out! He'll fool you again!

Please, Avril, you'd better stay quiet.

Plus, Your Honor, this is my trial,
I won't have two of them.

Your name may be attached to it.

So it's not in the interest of either
of us to make it a comedy play,

you always refusing to give me the floor,

and I forced to play Scapin
to get a word in.

Nonsense! How far is he willing to go?

Sir, it's up to me
to conduct the proceedings,

not you.

Because why introduce myself right away

as a villain without parallel
in our history?

Why this indictment

whose every line seems
calculated to provoke fear?

Really, what a bad novel this is!

Oh, I don't mind,

because, as I've been saying all day,

I want the guillotine.

Even if it means compromising
the interest of the show,

I have to announce right now

that the upcoming hearings
will prove in black and white

that I only killed two people
with my own hands.

Two, sorry to disappoint!

And two scoundrels: a notorious criminal,

otherwise infamous
for his anti-physical tastes,

and his mother, who was both
his accomplice and his madam.

Talk about a trophy wall!

If Your Honor will permit the Crown

to intervene in this comedy…

Of course, of course.

I must make the jury aware
that the speaker is simply trying

to mitigate the horror of his crimes

by slandering his victims!

-The speaker…
-Oh no! Keep him quiet!

I will allow the defendant to answer.

But quickly.

The speaker, sir, has more confidence

in the memory of the gentlemen
of the jury than you do.

Could they have forgotten
that I demand death?

But if it should ever slip their minds,

I beg you, Your Honor,
to use your credit with them

so they don't sentence me
to hard labor for life.

No one cares anymore!

I ask you for death as a due.

All we know about this ambush
in Montorgueil Street,

that's what the organizer
of the event has said so far.

Lacenaire.

Shall I continue, or would you rather
finish reading the news first?

Your Honor, we have to read the critics.

Especially when they're excellent.
In fact, for you too!

I think I see a juror
who wants to ask a question.

Yes.

Why is the man named Bâton
not called to testify?

He could have told us.

I convoked him,
but impossible to find him.

Even in prison?

Not in prison, not at home.

If I were you, I'd check out the army.

He's serving a six-month sentence,
which is soon coming to an end.

Bâton.

When did you introduce
François to Lacenaire?

At the end of October, I'd say.

On October 26, at the grocer's bar.

François maintains it was on November 5,

after the ambush in Montorgueil Street.

No, it was before,
Lacenaire is telling the truth.

After that botched crime,

Lacenaire claims they met in the same bar.

Were you there?

-Yes.
-What did they say to each other?

I don't remember. Ask Lacenaire.

François arrived first.

He said to me: "How?
I thought you were arrested!"

That's it! Lacenaire entered

and François said to him:
"I thought you were arrested!"

That should be enough for the jury!

Are you a lawyer now?

That's right, he's always snitching!

With these people,
"to snitch" means "to denounce".

But that's just it, poor Blaise,

see where it got you snitching on me!

Lacenaire only betrays who betrays him!

If I was interested, that's right,
in the fate of Lacenaire,

if I even went, it's again true,

to the point of helping him when
he seemed to be most in need…

35 francs! He still owes me 65.

It's because a Republican
is more likely than another

to see the distress of a human being,
even the worst of the villains,

as a consequence of the regime
we continue to endure.

A distant, but logical continuation!

Lacenaire, are you a Republican?

Your Honor,

as I keep feeling quite a bit
of sympathy from you,

I will open my heart to you.

If I had been given the chance
to live as an honest man,

I would've been a Bonapartist
under Bonaparte,

Carlist under Charles X
and Philippist today.

Republican under the Republic?

I wonder.

Basically, I've always thought that,
in revolutions,

evil prevails over good.

I'm not in the best position to talk
about this aspect of things,

but I think they do spill too much blood.

As if the secret of our happiness
did not lie much more

in our inner resources than in the
chimera of political freedom.

That is firmly stated.

But you should know that I have
even less consideration

for the imbecility of the monarchy,

present and past.

And now you can see
that I am committing suicide.

Would I speak thus,
would I offend you in this way,

would I alienate these self-righteous men,

if I didn't want to be put to death?

In any case, I'd never let it be said

that I killed in the name
of ideas or principles.

There is no one less doctrinaire than me!

I was guided only by the reasoned
observation of my contemporaries.

It alone persuaded me that
the best thing I could do

was to take my leave of them,

and, if possible, with a bit of sparkle.

Yes, gentlemen,

I only slit throats to force you
to complete my suicide.

And you're forced to do it.

I come to death by a bad way,
I go up by a staircase,

but by God, I'm going!

In view of the answers given by the jury,

the court sentences François

to hard labor for life.

In view of the answers concerning them,

it sentences Avril and Lacenaire to death.

Their heads will be chopped off in public.

Thank you.

The ground will be cold tomorrow.

Of course, in January.

Are you writing about our case?

Not only that.
More about me, about my life.

-Every day?
-Every day.

It just comes to you?

More or less.

So you can say whatever you want.

No one will check to see
if what you wrote is true.

-Good night.
-Good night.

"Dear Mr. Lusignan,

as you two are the most precious
thing I leave here on earth,

my last wish is that you carry over
to Princess Karolyi

the too much friendship
you've always had for me."

"My dear Ida,

no matter how much passion
I feel you have for your new husband,

my last wish is that you should
see much of the Abbot Lusignan,

until almost becoming his girlfriend."

THIS IS AVRIL'S DIARY UNJUSTLY CONDEMNED
TO THE SUPREME PUNISHMENT

Chabrol?

-Do you like me?
-I do!

So tomorrow, while walking around,

deliver these letters
directly to their recipients.

Well I…

of course!

Sorry I had to disturb your sleep,

but I think we'll get
pretty busy later on.

Subtitle translation by: Michael Francart