Original subtitles

My father loved Brittany.

He dreamed of living there.

When he retired 10 years ago, he bought a house in Côtes-D'Armor

and left Paris and the flat we'd shared

since my mother died.

The Way of the Wandering Bird

A house that was too big which he hoped I'd visit more often.

My father died on 27th June 2013.

SAND CASTLES

Éléonore's father died 2 months ago.

She has to sell the house.

She must.

Hello.

She arranged viewings for Friday and Saturday,

going back on Sunday.

8.50, please.

She asked Samuel to take her to Kersalou.

She doesn't have a licence. He said yes.

Éléonore is a photographer.

She works for magazines.

She's done exhibitions too.

But times are hard and work is scarce.

Éléonore lives in the moment.

Samuel lives in the past.

He's a history teacher.

His thesis is on Geli Raubal, Hitler's niece.

...calling into doubt Europe's ability to dominate the world.

He said yes because he couldn't say no,

because they were a couple for 5 years, but not now.

He should have said no.

But it's Éléonore.

And her father.

And this house.

And they're in the car.

Paradise is behind them.

Hell may be ahead of them.

- It's wine. - I can see that.

Cases that my father ordered.

- They've been here a month. - Enough for the weekend?

Not staying in the house?

No.

It's a house they used to visit together.

He has a new girlfriend called Laure.

I haven't seen it.

Laure works at the same university as Samuel.

What?

She's been in love with him for a while.

He knew it.

Hello. I'm looking for...

She's the important one now. He's being careful.

Calling when he arrives, sleeping in the outhouse.

He'll call her before going to bed,

and tomorrow when he wakes up.

She won't be jealous, she'll understand.

It's only 3 days, after all.

And Éléonore lost her father. Samuel would help.

I can only get a signal here. Just like 2 years ago.

Karl sent the Munich photos. Shall I forward them?

No. I'll look at them on Monday.

I'll be back before they've downloaded.

OK.

You can sleep at my place this weekend.

Maybe.

That's kind.

I miss you already.

I miss you too.

I'm going to see the Woody Allen with Valentine tonight.

Since you're not here.

- Shall I call you later? - Yes.

- Love you. - Love you.

- Ciao. - Ciao.

You're always careful, at the start,

not to commit the same errors as before,

the reasons why it didn't work.

You can log on in the office if you want.

It's fine.

My back is killing me.

You're getting old.

Sod off.

Thoughts of sex come back to him.

They made love in the garden.

Here, here and here.

Inside the house, in every room, everywhere.

The bedroom,

the bathroom, the outhouse.

Frequently in the outhouse,

when her father was home.

Seen the boards?

Yeah.

They need replacing.

You reckon?

Got a tape measure?

Probably.

Coffee, tomatoes, strawberries, potatoes, joint of beaut...

beef

Don't move.

- What? - Stay like that.

Look at the boards.

Want any grapes?

You drink decaf now?

No. I...

Come on.

- 55.15 euros, please. - I'll get it.

- No. - It's fine.

Pay me back when you've sold the house.

Here you are.

- Here. - Thank you.

Thanks.

What shall we do?

Put them in the boot.

- Put them on their sides? - Yes.

How about like this?

Slide them in.

- OK? - Out the other side?

I think it'll go.

It's work he's not used to doing.

Using muscles

he doesn't normally use.

Except when making love.

Which he did 2 days before with Laure.

It was quick and gentle.

Not much of a workout.

Laure was tired, so was he.

Both would rather wait until the morning.

But neither had the courage to say they didn't want to, they were tired.

Laure had found out restructuring

was happening at the university.

Samuel was waiting for Karl's photos

and didn't know if his conclusion was good enough.

He thought it was weak.

- I don't know... - It's really good.

3 years' work for a weak conclusion.

Don't worry.

That was the problem.

- Are you OK? - Yes.

They made love, with a quick climax,

then fell asleep in each others arms.

At least they tried to fall asleep.

But 15 minutes later, neither was asleep.

Tell me about her.

I don't want to.

Why not?

We're not friends, we never will be.

We'll never be friends?

No.

- What do you want to know? - What does she have that I don't?

That you don't?

That's an odd question.

Well,

she's blond, and a few centimetres taller.

Seriously.

It's a stupid question.

You don't compare people, what they have that others don't.

She's great. That's it.

I'm sure she has her faults.

She's beautiful, really beautiful, gobsmacking.

- "Gobsmacking"? - Exactly.

From the verb "to gobsmack".

I'm not gobsmacking?

You're gut-wrenching, at best.

Where is this going?

You want to be gobsmacked?

Go on, then. I can't wait.

- What are you doing? - I bet she can't do this.

Stop it, Léo.

Léo, stop.

Hello.

Hello.

Claire Andrieux is always smart.

The same make-up every day: eye-liner,

and some blusher.

Claire Andrieux has no children.

There's still time, she's 35.

She thinks about it.

That's all very well!

She loves Brittany.

She loves her job.

She loves selling houses, showing houses.

So, the garden... It's quite large.

She likes most of the people she meets.

Hello.

She's interested in people's lives.

Claire Andrieux has always voted left.

Breton socialism.

She hates injustice and poverty.

She cries when she watches the news.

Claire Andrieux is happy, privileged.

She tells herself that every morning.

I'm happy, privileged. I'm very lucky.

Claire Andrieux lives alone.

Sometimes she likes being alone, sometimes not.

It depends on the day, the weather,

the film she's watching.

"The couple.

"They turn off the light, and the white bulb glows momentarily,

"before dissolving like a pill in a glass of darkness."

"Imovane.

"Cetirizine.

"Prednisolone.

"Pantoprazole.

"Xanax.

"Stilnox."

Have you seen the number of houses for sale?

- Sugar? - I've got sweeteners.

Even if your dad didn't want to, you must lower the price.

By 25%. That would be good.

That means that, including commission...

Can I have a spoon?

That makes...

Thanks.

300,000 euros.

That seems reasonable in the current market.

It will sell. Don't worry.

It's a charming house, but there are negatives,

like the house being built next door.

2 or 3 buyers liked the house

but pulled out because of that.

As regards the septic tanks,

you'll need to get a survey done.

They'll tell you to merge them,

but that will involve major construction work.

You could go through the wood over there.

Have you made an appointment with the council?

I haven't had time. I've just arrived.

It has to be done.

I know you have limited time.

- I can deal with it. - Yes.

If you would.

Shall we go with that?

You'll struggle to sell otherwise.

This is the market price.

- Believe me. - If you say so.

I can see you don't believe me.

But I'm still optimistic.

I'll leave it with you and come back later.

Thanks for the coffee.

- See you later? - Yes.

You need the money, you need to sell the house.

Sign it.

I won't give the house away because that idiot can't sell it.

She isn't an idiot. She seems to know her job.

She's only interested in her cut.

Don't talk rubbish.

If that were true, she wouldn't suggest lowering the price.

What's the matter?

What's with all the drugs?

- You searched my bag? - I didn't search it.

What's wrong?

Nothing. I can't get rid of this bronchitis.

Cortisone and antidepressants for bronchitis?

Think you're Johnny Hallyday?

It's not funny.

- See? I do have bronchitis. - Yeah...

Samuel wonders what he's doing.

Why didn't he tell her to find someone else?

Why can't you instantly fall out of love?

One day, for no reason,

you're no longer in love.

The person becomes a stranger as before.

It would be so much easier.

Samuel thinks of his father.

Shit!

"Manual labour", he used to say,

"nothing better for clearing your head,

"for sleep.

"Become a historian, but you won't sleep well."

You could put in

a lovely pool.

It's in the shade there.

Over there, next to the wall.

Apart from early morning, it's very sunny,

especially the afternoon.

We're not bothered about a pool.

The sea is close.

- But we'll need one if we do B&B. - Obviously.

- Can we see inside? - Of course.

I hired a man

to repair the old boards on the terrace.

You can't be too careful.

Will you finish today, Mr Preskovitch?

I don't know, Mrs Éléonore. Igor work all day,

and terrace maybe finished tonight, lovely terrace.

Beautiful.

Follow me.

Do be careful.

It's nice.

Big.

It's good the furniture is still here.

It helps.

All this glass is lovely.

You don't feel enclosed.

This is my childhood.

We had a house in Tréguer. My parents want us to buy here.

Tréguer is lovely.

But it's hard to find a house.

That's why we're here.

Your accent was rubbish.

My accent was great.

Are you managing?

It's not that difficult.

- It's rough on the hands. - Want some gloves?

- Got any? - Maybe in the garage.

- Shall I see? - I'll go.

Go back in.

Be nice.

Smile.

This house

is your father's? - Yes.

I need to sit down.

Must be hard on you selling it.

It's too big for me.

You don't have children?

No.

I'd like my child to be born here.

Not in Paris.

And grow up...

near the sea, in the countryside.

I wasn't keen, but my husband convinced me.

I no longer like Paris.

As the song says.

Right...

I'm in love, you see.

I'm very happy for you.

- Darling. - Yes.

Come and see the kitchen. It's so lovely.

Right...

They won't buy it.

He says the ceiling is too low.

It's the first viewing. We'll see.

"We"?

They liked the house.

I don't want to know what they think.

I want to kill them.

It's their first house. They don't want to make a mistake.

What time's the next viewing?

6 o'clock. Maëlle Prigent.

She knows the house. She's local.

I'll get back to it.

Igor has much work to do.

I've a favour to ask: I have to look after my nephews.

Do you mind if I miss the viewing?

No, that's fine.

That's kind. Thanks.

How can that be?

How?

How?

My father was paying for 2 phone lines,

one of which you haven't cancelled

and you're charging him 45 euros a month.

I'm not angry,

but I don't understand how you can treat people like this.

No! Don't put me on hold.

You'll put me on hold, then I'll be cut off,

call back again and speak to another idiot

who'll put me on hold!

Hello?

Hello!

Are you OK?

Bitch!

Bitch, bitch!

Aren't the boards a bit light?

They only had that shade.

I could varnish them.

They look rubbish.

- Take it easy. - What?

- You've been drinking since 2. - So?

It's stupid.

With all those drugs you're taking...

I've a lot to deal with.

That's no reason to drink.

Are you going to deal with all this?

Who will you call?

Who? Post Office, EDF, insurance company, Veolia?

The cleaner who forgot to turn off the electricity?

Look, it's Friday, it's nearly 6 o'clock.

There's nothing you can do.

You can do it from Paris.

I know.

Go take a shower. I'll do the viewing.

Hello.

Claire can't make it. Did she explain?

She said Gilles'... Mr Perron's daughter would be here.

She's taking a shower.

- And you are? - Samuel, a friend.

I...

Shall we go in?

Yes. Let's.

I know the house.

I met Mr Perron a few years ago.

He used to invite me to see his photos.

We were going to organise an exhibition at Bel.

- Do you know it? - No.

It's a lovely bookshop in Tréguer.

We didn't have time.

Shall I give you the tour?

Are you OK?

Yes, sorry.

- May I sit down? - Of course.

Sorry, I'm a bit upset.

Would you like some water?

Yes, please.

Here.

You must think me mad.

It's fine.

Are you interested in the house?

I...

Yes, but I think..

- How long are you here? - Till Sunday.

I'd rather come back tomorrow.

I don't feel well.

That's fine.

Will you call Claire?

Yes, I will.

- Don't you want to meet her? - Tomorrow.

I really like the house.

- Will you be OK? - Yes.

Thanks.

Dad, I just wanted to say that even though Mum is gone,

I'm here and I love you. Éléonore.

How did it go?

She didn't stay long. She'll be back tomorrow.

Forget it.

Do you want chips or sauté potatoes?

Sauté potatoes. With garlic.

You're not going to kiss me, then.

Thought I would?

Anyway, you'll be eating them too.

And in 2 hours, I'll be drunk.

You can do what you want. I won't remember.

I was joking.

Samuel, I was joking.

When he's like this, you just have to wait.

He's thinking of the singer she slept with.

He said she was nasty.

He said she was a whore.

He said he'd never touch her again.

She needed a shock to wake her up.

She never thought she would hurt him.

At first it was a relief.

Going from a historian to a singer, life seemed fun.

But she soon missed him.

She missed his body, his voice, his hands,

his seriousness, his smile,

his constant worrying.

She even missed being bored with him.

She didn't know how to see him.

She knew he was no longer alone.

When her father became ill, she called him.

He agreed to see her to help her.

- It's a matter of days. - Is he suffering?

He didn't ask about the singer.

They met in a café, near the hospital.

He let her talk,

then went off to meet Laure.

One night, he came home drunk and sent her a text.

"I love you unfailingly."

He regretted it the next day and deleted it.

"Never drink again", he told himself, "don't get drunk."

"Don't love people unfailingly."

Éléonore was drinking, taking tablets,

no longer with the singer.

Then her father died

and she fell apart and called Samuel.

He joined her for a drink, in the same café,

helped her collect her father's things,

the ghetto-blaster from his room.

I have to go. Shall I call you a taxi?

You shouldn't be on your own.

Not now.

Call your aunt or...

Or Benoît, Louise.

Someone.

OK?

I'm off.

Thanks.

"Thanks", she said.

He left.

Devastated.

OK?

In pieces.

Yes, fine.

Karl got some photos of the flat,

even though it's hard to get in there.

He said the lounge where Geli killed himself

hasn't changed much.

Yet there aren't many photos

and none from 1931, the year she died.

- Have you seen the photos? - I'll see them Monday.

How do you do it?

I haven't your patience.

I'm here with you, and Monday I'm back to Geli.

And Laure.

And Laure.

Why did you choose her?

Who? Laure?

No-one was interested in her.

No-one knows how she died,

if she killed herself,

if Hitler, madly jealous, killed her because she was leaving him,

or if his entourage got rid of her

because it's not good

to sleep with your 23-year-old niece before taking power.

That's not the point. The point is,

without her, if she hadn't died,

there'd have been no war.

Not many see it that way. It's not popular.

- Want any cheese? - No.

Thanks.

People view her as secondary, but I think she's key.

The moment she was no longer in his life,

he went completely mad.

But...

Historians don't want to think about love,

only perversion.

What are you trying to prove? That Hitler was normal?

No. Are you doing this on purpose?

You mustn't forget the human factor,

even if he was a monster.

After her, he lost all trace of humanity.

Anyway, it's complicated.

This woman might be responsible for the death of 65 million people.

- She was in love with him? - Yes, at one time.

She was still Hitler's bird. I wouldn't feel sorry for her.

I don't.

When you study someone for 2 years, you want to understand.

She did nothing wrong. She wanted to be an opera singer.

She must have suspected something, surely.

All singers are stupid.

Éléonore had never understood why it haunted him.

He's called Samuel, but isn't Jewish,

didn't lose any grandparents in the camps.

She doesn't understand. But she's completely seduced.

She loves his stories.

He uses words, she uses images.

They should never have split up.

You could think that.

The nonsense you think.

I haven't stopped.

I've replaced the boards on the terrace.

- Really? - Yes.

How are you?

I'm at your place.

I can't wait to see you.

Me too. Hurry home.

I'll be there soon.

Wait a second.

OK, you can come in.

Put the light on.

It's the woman who was here.

To view the house?

Yes.

I'm going to bed.

- Don't forget the fireguard. - OK.

- Goodnight. - Goodnight.

Sam.

Is this the last weekend we'll spend together?

I don't know.

Possibly.

I lied earlier.

I'd never compared them before, but now I am comparing them.

Éléonore talks in her sleep.

But if I put her here, against my shoulder,

she falls asleep,

and 8 hours later she'll be in the same place.

I'll have spent 8 hours watching her sleep,

listening to her talking.

She often says: "Dad", "Dad this", "Dad that",

never "Mum".

She often says: "I'm scared" and jumps.

So I hold her close to me

and say: "Everything is fine. I'm here."

She smiles in her sleep.

I feel her hand on my arm,

squeezing my arm, holding my hand.

Her sleep is always disturbed.

Laure never falls asleep on my shoulder.

She rests against me then moves away.

As she falls asleep, she turns over.

Her presence is reassuring.

I know it will be a peaceful night.

She doesn't smell of alcohol.

Fresh breath, a glowing smile.

You should only marry people with whom...

you sleep well.

Sell the house quickly. Don't think about it.

There's a recession.

You can get your breath,

pay your rent, take proper photos,

not stupid commissions.

Don't waste your talent.

Don't be sentimental.

Not that.

Never mind who buys it. Get rid of it.

Hello.

Sleep well?

- Great. You? - Yes.

Is the furniture included?

- No. - Pity.

I've been looking for one like this.

Comfortable.

- Is it leather? - It is leather.

- Do you have satellite? - Yes.

The house is well equipped.

- It needs repainting. - Yes.

It could do with freshening up, thanks to the log burner.

This house is well maintained,

I can tell you.

Very little to do.

Must be a rare edition.

Yes, 1904.

It would fetch a good price.

I can recommend a bookseller in Paris.

A good friend of mine.

He won't rip you off.

Has the wood been treated?

Yes, it was done last year, but will need doing again.

It's a damp region. That's Brittany for you.

Shall we carry on?

Is it cold in winter?

I see you have a fire going.

At this time of year...

It's my house. Fuck you.

If you want warmth, try the Côte d'Azur!

Claire. Claire!

- Excuse me. - Stop.

I don't want to sell the house to these... people.

I...

Sorry I was rude.

I'm sorry.

You're right. What an asshole!

Next viewing's at 2pm. You've time to recover.

I think you'll like them.

You don't have to be here.

I know. And you're better off without me.

Want to have lunch in Lézardrieux?

What time is it? 10:45.

How about 12:30?

- Sure. - Why not?

- Know the old sailing school? - Yes.

- Mrs Andrieux, we're waiting. - Coming.

What's your perfume?

Hello again.

- How did it go? - Horrible people. Forget it.

- Looking at the house? - What house?

The one with the green shutters. Brassens' house.

- Really? - Yes.

He spent his last 10 years there.

My father was friends with him.

Apparently he held me and kissed me.

I must've been 3 months old.

- Classy. - What did your father do?

Pork butcher. Less classy.

Each time he arrived, he went to my dad

to buy garlic sausage.

When he left, he took 50 back to Paris.

Each year he left money

for the football club and the old folks' home.

He was the local patron.

A great man, as they say.

- Did you know that? - No.

It's clouding over. Let's go.

Know his posthumous album?

Le Forestier's? I love it.

What is it? The Schoolmistress.

Sandcastles.

Close by, in the dunes

Waiting for war's fortune To smile on the victors

- It's good. - The haggis?

- And two specials. - Yes.

Thanks.

- Enjoy. - Thanks.

I know another.

Except in the all-too-frequent case

That they are bastards

One should never lose

One's mother and father

Unless you're a naughty kid

Who dies before being orphaned

Or some poor bastard We've all got it coming

When draped in a shroud His parents leave him all alone

The little orphan is pitiful However

Without saying That he becomes a spoilt brat

Let's say his affliction Has its compensations

First choice of dessert The best part of the cake

And no more school A four-day weekend

He lives the life of Riley While the cat gets whipped

And finding his grief cute The girls wink at him

So, my child Hurry up and become an orphan

As for losing your parents Don't wait till you're old

No-one pities a 40-year-old orphan

Everyone considers him A last-minute addition

Whoever wrote this song Meant to say

That the death of one's parents Is a deadweight loss

With age, it's natural That the heart breaks easily

And more often than not It never mends

This is good.

I'm sorry.

- You OK, Léo? - Sorry. Forgive me.

Have some...

- Have a drink. - Yes.

- Good, wasn't it? - Yes.

I like it here.

When's Mrs Prigent coming?

At six.

Tell me about her.

She's a fine woman, beautiful.

- Haven't you seen her? - No. Only a photo.

I saw her.

She is beautiful.

She's a bookseller, does a lot for charity.

She was very close to your father, I believe.

I can't tell you much. I don't know her that well.

Nor did I know your father, though he was very handsome.

Is she married? Any kids?

Her husband died in a car crash 7 or 8 years ago.

She has 2 kids. They'll be grown up now.

He never mentioned her?

He must have had his reasons.

Silly to hate him for it,

or her.

Her?

I don't give a damn about her. It's him I hate.

I hate him for dying, running away

and leaving me alone with the house.

You're not alone.

Have a dessert. I'll bet they have crêpes.

The Grand Marnier-Nutella is great,

but you can't claim it on your health insurance.

- Answer it. - I'll call back later.

She's pretty.

Who's that?

She's...

my girlfriend.

- Excuse me. - Hello.

I need to varnish some decking, 4-5 square metres.

4-5 square metres?

Try this. It's especially suitable

for decking.

It's guaranteed 8 years.

- Excuse me. - Sure.

Yes, my love?

How are things?

Why so sad?

It's a little tricky, but don't worry.

No. I'm in a DIY store in Paimpol.

How was Woody Allen?

Would the owner of the green Ducato, reg number CV 501...

Sorry, I can't hear. I'll call you back.

I'll be there late afternoon.

Tomorrow, yes.

I said don't worry.

No, it's not that.

Come on, Léo. I don't want to...

Pardon?

I'm sorry.

Really sorry.

Sorry, Laure. Sorry.

One morning I woke up.

You were still asleep. We were at my place.

I went to make coffee,

took some croissants out of the freezer.

I put them in the oven, mark 6.

You were lying on your side with one foot sticking out.

I thought then that

I wanted always to wake up next to you.

I wanted a child with you,

who'd have your eyes, your skin, your smile.

I thought you were my love.

And that I'd never recover if we parted.

Mr Slimane.

Éléonore!

Éléonore!

This is Éléonore, the owner.

Shall we?

After you.

- Very warm. - Yes.

A real little love nest.

What's the word?

That's it.

- What did he say? - Forget it.

I think they like the house.

Absolutely.

I speak a little French.

What are you doing?

You're leaving?

I don't know.

Léo, if you don't sell the house this weekend, I won't be back.

Here. I bought this stain. I hope it's OK.

Thank you.

Monday morning's great.

- You varnishing that? - Yes.

I'd wait till tomorrow.

- Why? - It might rain.

- He's a Breton, you know. - I just spoke to them.

- We'll have an answer Monday. - Any signal?

Yes, of course. It's very good here.

- Goodbye, miss. - Goodbye.

Goodbye.

- You'll call me? - Monday.

- Bye, madam. - Goodbye.

- When's my stepmother due? - Maëlle Prigent?

She left me a message. She cancelled.

Some years are difficult. Months when you can't breathe.

It hasn't been a good year for Éléonore.

But she figures that will end when she sells the house,

when she has some money.

- Think they'll buy it? - I doubt it, but the English might.

- Why do you say that? - Instinct, experience.

What'll you do with the money? Buy a place in Paris?

No. Buying's not for me.

Owning property stresses me.

I'll pay back what I owe.

Then I want to travel, take a year off, start over,

take pictures.

- That's nice. - Why do you say that?

I don't know.

Starting over, as if your life before was pointless.

- Nice to hear. - I wasn't talking about you.

No, of course not.

I'm not allowed to think of myself,

to work out my grief?

I'm amazed the clichés you spout.

Hanging out with idiots has made you one.

You've always been self-centred. We all know how artists are.

He understood you, whereas I'm a yokel.

As for grieving, give me a break!

I've been grieving for you for 6 months, only you're alive!

This isn't Claire's business.

Sure it is. She gets 10% of the house.

She can take 10% of the shit too.

In 2 days I'll be gone.

Go and see your perfect love.

- Fine... - Stop!

Sorry.

Can't you stop shouting?

The English.

Hello?

Hello?

- Hello! Shit, I got cut off. - They'll call back.

I've got no signal.

Work, you stupid thing!

Well?

Your world tour's on.

We're signing the papers tomorrow.

- How much? - 300,000. They didn't argue.

As far as I understood.

Good. I'm pleased.

- Champagne. - I don't think we have any.

I do, in my car. Hold this, I'll be right back.

- Need help? - No, it's fine.

It's pouring down!

Thanks. Be right back.

My father's calling me. I'm 5.

I'm always 5 when my father calls me.

He says "Léo", and I run to him.

My father's arms,

his smell.

Even at the end, with his illness, the drugs, the hospital.

I seek my father in other men's arms.

I snuggle up to them to smell his odour.

Samuel doesn't smell.

He washes too much, morning and night.

No sweat, no smell.

Look at me.

My father smelt of men: sweat, carbolic soap.

He didn't drink champagne. "A girl's drink", he'd say.

My mother adored it.

Samuel knows he won't see Éléonore again.

It would be too painful.

How can you live with someone for years,

share so many things and never meet again?

You don't love the person,

but there are still feelings, affection, a link.

"Bullshit", thinks Samuel.

Claire Andrieux is tipsy. She wants to listen to music.

She wants to dance, and she's attracted to them.

She thought about making love with them both.

She looked at them,

wanted to be in bed with them, holding them.

She likes this couple. She's sorry they're parting.

Éléonore looks at the house. She knows she won't return.

A company will take

the furniture, the clothes, the books.

She's thinking what to take back to Paris.

She thinks that tonight, she'll take her photo in every room.

Come on.

- Let's go. - Where?

Come on.

"Côtes d'Armor, Pleubian, Sillon Head,

"formed by the tides ending in successive hooks."

- Mean anything to you? - No.

Shall we go?

Come on.

He came here every few days, walked the 3 km there and back.

He said he thought of my mother when walking,

that it pleased him.

He hated sports.

Even walking, except here.

He always took his car otherwise.

Do any sports?

No. Well, only the gym.

Can you do cartwheels?

What? What is it?

Bravo!

- Not bad! - Great!

Your turn.

- Oh, no. - Yes, yes.

Right...

That was a round-off.

I did a round-off!

I'll do one.

A round-off!

- Oh, Claire... - Watch out.

Not bad, eh?

Here. Write something.

What?

Something nice, to your father, whatever comes to mind.

Don't ask questions, write.

Now throw it.

You've lost the plot.

You lost it months ago,

before your dad got sick.

After that...

Sleeping with someone else isn't losing the plot.

It is, unless you've changed personalities.

People change, that's how it is.

No, it's not how it is!

- That's what losers say. - So I'm a loser now?

How could you sleep with that cretin?

How could you cheat on me, betray me?

Betray you?

I slept with the guy, who's great by the way,

because I couldn't stand you, because I was unhappy and lost!

- I'll never forgive you. - I'm not asking you to.

I feel sick thinking about it.

What about you and her? It sickens me.

I just asked you to give me a child, but you wouldn't.

People do that to stay together, or when they love each other.

- Why? - It wasn't the right time!

Really? And now it is?

Stop thinking,

analysing, searching,

thinking you're clever. There's never a right time!

We're not together.

I have someone in my life. Someone faithful.

But it's me you love.

Stop drinking and taking all that crap.

You're not my father.

- No, I'm not! - Insult my father and I'll kill you.

- Will you? - I swear!

Come on, then!

Old couples have rituals. Nothing scares them.

They've seen it all.

Normally they play more, talk more.

But now they just want to join together as one.

It won't last long, so great is their longing,

so long their separation.

Éléonore clings to him, cries out,

he holds back, grits his teeth.

"It's so good", he thinks, "I've missed it so much".

Not inside. I'm not on the pill.

Samuel's not thinking about Laure.

Éléonore thinks about her briefly. She thinks they should stop,

that she should push him off her.

No.

Laure Missed calls (4)

To: Laure

Poor signal...

I miss you

I love you

Big kisses

You try to escape, but I always find you.

- I'm a little tired. - We drank too much last night.

No, it's not that. I've been tired for a while.

What do you mean?

Is something wrong?

Stop being scared all the time.

I'm going to die one day, you know.

I'm old. Soon I'll get ill and then I'll die.

- It's natural, that's life. - Dad...

Stop that.

Fear of illness, of death, of failure,

fear of sadness, of loneliness.

It's paralysing you. Stopping you progressing.

You're a little coward, my love.

Fearing death is as absurd

as fearing the wind.

I'm the way you made me.

One day I won't be here.

You'll have to get by on your own.

If you need a shoulder, lean on Samuel.

He's a lot stronger than me.

He's a pain, but...

he has good shoulders.

Is he the love of your life?

No, Dad, you are.

They turn off the light,

and the white bulb glows momentarily,

before dissolving like a pill in a glass of darkness.

Then they go upstairs.

The walls of the hotel burst into the night sky.

Love's gestures have softened.

They sleep.

But their most intimate thoughts mingle,

as two colours melt

into the wet paper of a child's painting.

All is dark and peaceful.

But the town seems close tonight.

All the windows dark, the houses have come.

They are here,

in compact expectation.

A crowd of people with impassive faces.

Excuse me. My name's Maëlle.

- A friend of your father's. - I know who you are.

I came to return the keys.

This house was very important to me, you know.

No, I don't know.

I know your father never mentioned me.

The worst was not being at his funeral. It was so unfair.

Come in.

I know he'd have wanted us to meet.

He was so proud of you.

But...

he thought it wasn't the right time.

Because of your mother.

He thought you wouldn't understand, that you'd hate him.

And then...

Then he got sick.

So it never happened.

They're lovely.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

I gave him that shirt.

Do you want it?

No, keep it.

It suits you.

You have his eyes,

his skin.

When did you meet?

8 years ago.

He ordered a book by the Chinese Nobel prizewinner

who now lives in France, Gao Xingjian.

Not very popular in Tréguer.

It was called The Way of The Wandering Bird.

A poetry collection.

We got talking...

Some more coffee?

No, thanks. I won't bother you for long.

You're not.

I just wonder why he never introduced us.

- 8 years is a long time. - I've often wondered that.

He wasn't hiding me.

Not to that extent.

I spent a lot of time with him here.

But...

when you were here,

I didn't see him, I didn't exist.

He said it was because of your mother,

whom you loved so much.

But I realised

that it was he who loved her and didn't love me enough.

He did love me, for sure.

But not as much.

Both of you.

...in good hands.

I don't know what that is in English.

Yes. Éléonore and Samuel. I like them both.

They're unusual.

5 minutes. Just 5 minutes.

The house is sold, Dad. You can rest easy.

I'll take care of your books.

I'm a big girl now.

I'm close by. If you need me, send me a sign.

And kiss Mum for me.

Shall we go?

7.95, please.

- Here. - Thanks.

- And 20. Have a nice day. - Thanks. Bye.

The hardest thing...

The hardest thing is choosing.

Always.

Choosing whether to drift or to take your life in hand, decide.

I don't want to drift.

I don't like it, I never did.

It just took me a while to realise that.

Remember Romain, my childhood friend?

- Romain? - You met him once or twice.

Yes, yes.

He recently had a baby, a little boy.

He and his wife weren't getting on, so they decided to have a child

to make it better.

His wife got pregnant,

but he was seeing someone else.

3 months after the birth,

his wife went to rest in Biarritz with the baby,

and he stayed in Paris to work, but...

he saw his mistress every day.

He was living with her. His wife didn't know.

He lied to her all the time.

And then...

he got tired of lying.

He called me, asked for my advice.

I said I didn't know. I liked his wife.

I said the situation couldn't continue,

he had to make a decision.

Next day, he drove to Biarritz

to fetch his wife and son.

In the car on the way back,

at the motorway toll, he said

that he'd met someone, he was in love

and he was leaving her.

Just as they got on the motorway.

When he told me, I said:

"Why just as you got on the motorway?

"Why not wait till you got to Paris,

"and avoid 8 hours of hell in the car,

"stuck on the motorway?"

When we get back,

we can stop at a chemist's if you want.

We'll get the morning-after pill.

I...

I'm sorry, I...

I don't know what got into me.

You wanted me to stop the tablets.

I'd like that, yes.

We'll see.

But I warn you, it'll be hard.

You'll have to be patient.

Patient?

But I am patient.

Waiting for you is my calling.

It's what I do best.

Samuel assesses what "I love you unfailingly" means.

He thinks of Laure, the pain he'll cause her and himself.

It's Éléonore's fault. He loves her and hates her.

"A quiet happiness", he thinks, "is that possible?"

A quiet happiness.

For the first time in his life, he is carsick.

On imaginary fingers, Éléonore counts the loved ones

and who she has left.

No mother, no father, no brother, no sister.

Samuel.

She thinks life is unfair, thinks she is unlucky,

that she's alone and has no home.

She takes out her phone and types a message:

"I wanted to tell you...", then erases it.

"Just a word to say...",

then erases it, starts again while Samuel looks on.

Éléonore Perron Thanks, Claire.

Let's go!

Hello!

- Auntie! - Hi.

All right? Mind the cake. Hi.

You OK? Yes?

Kersalou is far behind them.

They're on the A11 motorway.

In less than 2 hours, they'll be in Paris.

Subtitles: Eclair Media