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PARIS BELONGS TO US

"Paris belongs to nobody."

June 1957

- What do you want?
- Can I help you?

I doubt it.

Go away. I can't stand it!

Are you ill?

Are you Pierre's sister?

You know Pierre?

It doesn't matter.

Pierre can't do anything. No one can.

He was murdered.
- Who?

I'm sure he was murdered.
It's the only answer.

- Who was murdered?
- First, Assunta. Then Juan.

All one after the other.
It's the beginning.

All his friends will be killed,
no one will escape.

Not just me, or Pierre, or you.

Everything's threatened — the world.

And nothing can be done.

- Calm down.
- I must talk.

You can't stop me!
I want to talk and talk!

Thanks, you're very kind.

Put it there.

Good night.

You're Pierre's sister?
- Yes. Why?

Good night.

- Hello, Pierre. Am I late?
- Ida's late too.

What's new?
- Not much.

How are the statistics?
- Fine.

You look tired.

How long since I saw you?
- About a month.

- Have you heard from the family?
- They're fine. Drop them a line.

They could write to me.

You know how Mother loves you.

She still lives with Father?
Write, then. I'm sure you'll do it well.

They have their ideas, I have mine.

And I'm the girl with no opinions.

They'll come.

Be quiet.

Something wrong?

Nothing serious. I'm just tired.

- You work too hard.
- Maybe, but I've lost heart.

- You'll get over it.
- Yes.

But then there will be more exams.
It's endless.

Things used to go well,
but I don't believe in it now.

You don't have to believe.
Pretending will do.

There's something else.

Go on.

- Am I going mad, or is it the world?
- Both, kid.

Someone spoke about you.

- Who?
- Someone who seemed to know you well.

A girl.

My neighbor.

- What did she say?
- Nothing I can tell you.

Why not?

I mean, it wasn't coherent.
I think she's crazy, like me.

Do you know her?
- Maybe. Don't worry about it.

Hey, you.

Anne, this is Ida, my companion.

Come along with us this evening.

- Where?
- A party. You know Bernard, the painter.

That's it, you're coming.
- Philip will be there.

- Philip's coming?
- He's been staying at Bernard's.

- Who is Philip?
- Philip Kaufman.

Famous journalist, Pulitzer Prize.
Written a couple of novels.

Thrown out of the US.
You've heard of McCarthy?

- Isn't he dead?
- Maybe, but I wasn't invited to the funeral.

- Always the skeptic.
- Come on, you're losing time.

- And time lost —
- is never retrieved.

What's going on here?

I want to leave.
- You're crazy, we've only just come.

Why can't we?

He doesn't seem to be enjoying it either.

Wolfenstein agrees.
I talked to him about Juan's portrait.

Can we see it?

- A portrait of Juan?
- Yes.

- You have it?
- It's sold.

- Why isn't Juan here?
- Minna, don't you know?

They've arrested him?

He's dead.

He committed suicide.

I never thought he'd do that.

- It's that or a firing squad.
- I'd prefer a firing squad.

- He shot himself?
- No, he used a knife.

Typically Spanish.

Did he suffer much?

No funeral march?

- And Terry—
- Yeah?

How did she take it?

I called her.

She took it philosophically.

Is she coming?

Probably...

but surely not alone.

I know.

But Juan had so many ideas,
and his art.

He was one of us, our musician,
a new García Lorca.

If Lorca played guitar.

- Have you heard his last thing?
- The tape he made at Terry's?

Yes. Music of the apocalypse.

You're a phony.

What do you make of it?

And you, Pierre?
What do you think?

Nothing.

He doesn't think anything,
but he acts.

Right?

The air of Paris did him in.

It goes deeper than that.

It was his early life,
all those anarchists, those failures.

The guitar is all right.
- It's all that's left.

What's that supposed to mean?

- What better could be said?
- That's nonsense.

You want to hear why he did it?
Why he killed himself?

Gladly.

- Juan was more than he seemed.
- Shut up, José.

Shut up.

Mysteries. Fiction.

- A revolution put down.
- Like the Commune?

Who asked you?

When you feel like going home —
- No, thanks.

Aren't you Romanian? It's incredible.

Juan's suicide is your doing —
all your bitterness, your despair.

How could a good man live
surrounded by nihilists like you?

You still won't shake it off,
though it's been going on for 20 years.

Go ahead, keep playing.

You're the guilty ones,
with bloodstained hands.

- You go too far.
- Too far, too far.

What about Mayakovsky?
He wasn't Spanish, but he killed himself.

Mayakovsky who?

Mayakovsky, wowsky!

You bunch of fools!

Come here.

I want a word.

- Go ahead.
- All right.

You drink too much,
but that's not what I want to tell you.

You must understand our problems.

You're not in Greenwich Village now.

I'm speaking as a friend, a comrade.

I think a change of scenery would help.

It may be that we're bad for you.

- Where will I sleep?
- You don't have to go tonight.

I'm not throwing you out,
a man of your caliber,

but try to understand.

I can't keep you here forever.

What will people say?

Understood.

I'll go and pack my toothbrush.

He didn't make a fuss.

- He can't get over Terry leaving him.
- Among other things.

Here, I found 10 francs.

- What's wrong? Are you nuts?
- Leave us alone.

- What did he say?
- Nothing. He's drunk.

If you want to live, forget her.

Life, life. I know.

Forget her.

- What's the matter?
- A headache.

- So you just leave?
- Give them my apologies.

Don't judge them hastily.

Maybe I do.

Who's that?
- Who?

The two who just came in.

Gérard Lenz,
a somewhat eccentric theater director.

And her?

An American, Terry something.

She was Juan's girl,
left him just before —

- What's she got to do with Philip?
- No idea. Past history, maybe.

Why did Juan kill himself?

Because he was a jerk.

Jean-Marc, how are things?

- Fine, and you?
- Two days till exams.

- In good shape?
- What do you think?

- Shall we eat?
- Be my guest.

You're quick.

You'll eat better than at school.

Seen our old classmates?
- They've all vanished.

- How's the stage?
- Great. I have auditions all the time.

- It's slow.
- In a hurry?

I have five or six appointments.

You're lucky.

- Why?
- You keep busy.

No card?

No entry then.

- Why not?
- You need a card.

- What card?
- The card.

- Can I help you?
- I don't see how. Thanks anyway.

- What's going on?
- I'm used to being not wanted.

It's dumb.

Yes: "They know not what they do."

I know you.

From last night.

Yes, last night.

- You know him?
- Only in passing. A political refugee.

You have strange friends.

- Now what?
- Let's go, their cooking stinks.

It's got nothing on Shakespeare.

We'll talk about Shakespeare
after my exam.

- When is it?
- In a couple of days.

- I'm not keeping you?
- I have 15 minutes.

- What's your day like?
- I have to see this TV guy.

He makes commercials.

At 5:00 I've got an audition with Boileau,
but I must see Gérard Lenz first.

- Gérard Lenz?
- Do you know him?

What does he do?

He's formed a company to perform
Shakespeare's Pericles.

I have to get out of it.

- You have other commitments?
- Not exactly, but I'd like to drop it.

Do you know Pericles?

What do you think?
- It's very good.

Really?

Some good scenes, but it's hit-and-miss.

It wasn't Shakespeare's work.

Anyway, it'll be a flop.

Why?

Gérard's nice, but he's kidding himself.

It's one of those things
where you work for art without being paid.

And you've got no time to lose.

Exactly.

Are you going there now?

- Yeah. Why?
- No reason.

- I've got nothing else to do.
- You want to come?

- It won't bother you?
- Not at all.

All right, if you want a few laughs.

"To sing a song that old was sung,
from ashes ancient Gower is come,

assuming man's infirmities
to glad your ear and please your eyes.

This Antioch then

Antiochus the Great
built up, this city, for his seat,

the fairest in all Syria."

What do you envisage?

Towers, ramparts, severed heads.

- Why?
- To give the audience the illusion.

But theater is not illusion, it's reality.

You're not Gower, you're an actor.

Don't imagine things.
You've got the whole stage. Use it.

Or you will have.

You are addressing
the audience directly. Go ahead.

You come forward.

You take a couple steps stage right.

I said right, not left.

Look, I'm not myself. I'm worn out.

He's right, we worked all night.

Why can't you all help us sometime?

- If I come every morning —
- I don't care. I've got no talent.

There you are.

Hello, how are you?

- You know each other?
- Only in passing.

I have to talk to you.

What's going on?

Sorry, but I've got too much to do.

- Got it, you're leaving us.
- Lots of other projects.

Well, at least you've told me.

I think this project is crazy.

The odds are that we'll have a flop.

- Maybe not.
- Thanks for the encouragement.

Well, I gotta run.

Bye. Good luck.

Coming?

Would you like to stay?

- Is it all right?
- Of course.

- When shall we meet?
- One fine day.

Like today.

Tomorrow or next year.

Right, your exam.
I'll drop by your place.

See you.
- See you.

Another gone.

And we've got nowhere
to rehearse tomorrow.

All right, where were we?

"Enter Marina,
with a basket of flowers."

And Marina's not here.
Where is Suzanne?

I'll do Marina.

Very funny, but I'd prefer a girl.

You're onstage. You too.

- Will you cue us?
- I don't know how.

You can read?

That's all you need to help us.

Won't you help us?
- Yes, but I'll be awful.

On your head be it.

I'll risk it.

It's a scene on a beach.

You must make us feel that
when you speak.

Speak against the wind,

the sound of the sea, the gulls.

Go ahead.

Thy oath remember.

'Tis but a blow
which shall never be known.

I will do't.

But yet she is a goodly creature.

The fitter then the gods should have her.

Here she comes weeping
for her only mistress' death.

Thou art resolved?

I am resolved.

No, I will rob Tellus of her weed,
to strew thy green with flowers.

Ay me!
Poor maid, born in a tempest —

Hold on.

May I?

Turn towards the wind.

Take a step.

Let's take it from Dionyza's exit.

Go ahead.

- Is this wind westerly that blows?
- Southwest.

Don't force your voice.
Marina is about 14.

When I was born, the wind was north.

Was't so?

My father, as nurse said,

did never fear,

but cried "Good seamen!"
to the sailors,

galling his kingly hands
haling ropes,

and, clasping to the mast,
endured a sea that almost burst the deck.

- Where do we rehearse tomorrow?
- Call me at Terry's, without fail.

You see, it went very well.

I stuttered like a child.

That doesn't matter.

You speak very clearly, and that's rare.

- You're staying?
- Yes, I'm waiting for Terry.

- Have I made you late?
- It's okay.

I'll never get my hair right.

It suits you.

Are you a student?

Literature.

You like it?

I'm not sure.

Here's Terry.

What did he want?

He called.
He wanted to talk.

About what?

Nothing. Just a few ideas he had.

About what?

You.

He's a bit crazy. Won't you see him?

- I don't want to.
- That's ridiculous.

Your friend Philip is paranoid.

Meet Terry Yordan.

Anne Goupil.

- A new girl?
- Not at all.

- How did it go?
- Jean-Marc and Suzanne have quit.

- Not surprising.
- That doesn't solve anything.

Sometimes I wonder if Juan wasn't right.

Gérard.

What?

Don't talk about it.

Why not?

I think he was wrong with the knife.

I'd rather slash my wrists.

I did it once.

It always fails.
That's why you chose it.

It fails until it succeeds.
It calls for perseverance.

Good night.

Come again, if you can.

- You've made the rounds.
- What do you mean?

Don't act surprised.
I don't believe in coincidence.

- You're wrong.
- No, it figures. I'm right, as usual.

If you insist.

Well, well.

- Another one.
- You know him?

- Maybe.
- What?

I said maybe. I think I'll go now.

- I quit.
- Had enough?

- Why walk so fast?
- I always walk fast.

- Did you know him?
- Too many questions.

Why?

- How's Pierre?
- Don't know.

You haven't seen him since last night?

You don't see him often?

- Sometimes.
- What do you talk about?

About everything and nothing.

We don't always agree,
but that's natural.

I want to tell you
that the world isn't what it seems.

No, listen to me.

Some people have guessed
what I'm going to say, but I know it.

It's the whole world
that's threatened

yet doesn't know it.

It's all nothing but appearances.

Those we think powerful are puppets.

The real masters rule in secret.

- Who are they?
- They have no names.

I speak in riddles, but some things
can only be told in riddles.

You heard about Juan?
- He committed suicide.

Maybe.

- You think —
- I believe nothing.

Juan knew terrible things,
but he wasn't strong enough to stand it.

Perhaps he killed himself... with help.
- Are you sure?

He wasn't the first, or the last.
If you like, I'll tell you who's next.

You know Gérard? It doesn't matter.

- It's Terry?
- Terry and not Terry.

Don't try to understand.
Some secrets few men can bear.

Juan couldn't. I fear Gérard can't.

Gérard's threatened.

He doesn't know it,
but I don't give him two months.

- That's not true.
- All right, it's not true then.

Why don't you do something?

Damocles' friend warned him
of the sword, but his reaction made it fall.

- Another riddle?
- Yes, but maybe you can do something.

Why me?

Maybe.

If you wanted to try to save Gérard —

Well?

It's up to you to discover how.

I can't help. I'd ruin everything.

But don't try. It's too much for you.

Don't talk to your brother about me.
I don't think he likes me much.

I'd better shut up anyway.
I talk too much.

It's all my fault.
Terry's too.

All near us are in danger.

Why tell me this?

Sorry, I've taken you out of your way.

I live in a hotel now.
It's on rue des Canettes.

Do you live nearby?

Not really.

Sorry, there's no metro now.

It's okay.

Why have you talked to me?

Why?

Never seek to know why.
Beware of Terry. Beware of me.

Forget all I've said, if you can.

If not, forgive me.

Pierre, can I come over?

I'll explain when I see you.

What is it?

Am I intruding? Hi, Ida.

Hi.

What is it?

- I don't know how to put it.
- Try. I've got an appointment.

I'll go then.

No, stay. Come in.

Take no notice of this mess.

Well?

My neighbor, the Spanish girl —

She's vanished.
- Vanished?

She's no longer there.

So she's moved, that's all.

Are you getting mystical?

Well?

- I need your advice.
- Go on.

What would you do if you found out
that someone was in danger?

It depends on who it is.
Someone you know?

- Yes.
- Do I know him too?

Gérard Lenz.

Come out. Ida wants to dress.

- You saw him?
- Yes.

What are you and he up to?

Nothing.

Don't you feel —
- Feel what?

That he's in danger?

What danger?

Because of Terry.

I've been told about Juan's death.

- By whom?
- Someone.

What about poor Terry?
Our pals have lots of imagination.

If anyone's to be suspected in all this,
isn't it Gérard?

- Why Gérard?
- Why not?

Out with the old, in with the new.

At least that's what I heard.

What about Terry then?

You're right. I must be going crazy.

Possibly. Come back to earth.

- When's your exam?
- Tomorrow.

Well, good luck all the same.

See you.

Can I help you?

- Does Philip Kaufman live here?
- I don't know him.

- May I use the phone?
- Yes, it's over there.

May I speak to Gérard Lenz?

He's not there?
Do you know when —

No, he doesn't know my name.

Do you know a Philip Kaufman?

Is he in?

He must be. Room 19, fifth floor.

Philip, what's happened?

Sorry to inflict my act on you.

It's dramatic, but I always survive.

What is it?

A souvenir of Midway.

There ought to be some cure.

Why have you come?

I must speak to you.

Tell me...

was what you told me true,
or were you having me on?

I can't remember what I said.

- Please tell me.
- Is it that important?

- Yes.
- Why?

Tell me.

Whatever it was I said, forget it.

Nothing more?

You've got no right.

You told me I could help
to save a man's life.

I asked nothing of you.
You've got no right to leave me at a loss.

"Right."

I was wrong to talk to you
as a rational person.

You're an overimaginative child.

- And Juan?
- He's dead. Let him be.

Everyone talks about him
now that he's dead.

He wasn't anything special.
Neither is your Gérard.

None of us is.

We're ordinary.

Not worth lifting a finger for.

- You didn't mean a word of that.
- Oh, no?

You're frightened about what you say.

I don't know why, and I don't care.
You think I won't see it through?

I think you're raving.

Go home. Forget it.

Don't tell anyone.
Above all, don't tell Gérard.

Your best move is not to do anything,
drop the whole business. Promise?

- Promise what?
- To knock before entering.

Hello anyway.

What do you want?
Have you come to talk about Juan too?

Congratulations. You're improving.

Don't you agree?
- I know nothing about it.

There's no need to know anything.

Which do you like best?

This one is terrible.
Do you like it?

But why are you here?
No, never mind.

I ran into someone.

Gérard wants to see you.
Something about the play.

Call him. Élysées 0538.

But hurry, he won't be there all day.

Take this as a souvenir.
All right?

See you later.

Tell Gérard I'll meet him as usual.

- What's this? She seemed upset.
- I've done a stupid thing.

You talked to her?

Yes. I've tried to deny it all,
but she won't have it.

Why did you talk?

I wanted to test an idea,
but this way is too risky.

You believe me?

Only you can help.
- How?

Leave Gérard. Sooner or later
you'll tell him and he won't take it.

- I can't.
- Why not?

I must have Gérard.

- Have I inconvenienced you?
- Not at all.

I didn't want to tell you over the phone.

I like to see people's eyes when I talk.

Suzanne is leaving.
She's got some film part.

Will you play Marina?

It's the part you read.

I'm no actress.

It doesn't matter.
I'm sure you'll be good.

Will you do it?

I don't know.

I must think it over. It's so —

Think quickly.
Call me at Terry's tomorrow.

All right.

She'll meet you tonight, as usual.

- Do you know Pericles?
- Yes.

What do you think?

- Is this a test?
- No, I'd like your opinion.

It's rather disconnected.

Right. And?

But that doesn't matter.

Why not?

Because it's on another level.

Is that the right answer?

A-plus.

Everyone says I'm crazy, even Terry,
but the reason I want to stage it

is because it's "unplayable."

But I don't care.

It's shreds and patches,

yet it hangs together overall.

Pericles may traverse kingdoms,

the heroes are dispersed,
yet they can't escape.

They're all reunited in Act V.

I want to show that.

Do you think I'm crazy?

Not at all.

Thanks. But we must try
to make people understand it.

It shows a chaotic
but not absurd world,

rather like our own,

flying off in all directions,
but with a purpose.

Only we don't know what.

Am I boring you?

I agree. The world is less absurd
than it seems.

But how can we do it?
- Do what?

Show it clearly?

I'm counting on the music.

You didn't know Juan?

He didn't have time
to do the music for it.

One night, at Terry's, he made a tape,
improvising on guitar.

Just what I wanted for Pericles,

but I don't know where it is now.

You can't find it?

Terry lent it to friends,
who passed it on.

Now it's vanished without a trace.

Have you looked for it properly?

You need time to make a real search.

Terry says she doesn't know where it is.
Terry often lies.

I must go.
Jean-Marc will be waiting.

- Do you see him often?
- Sometimes. He's from my hometown.

Oh, that's right.

It must seem odd that I talk of Juan,
since Terry— Well, you know.

I was a great friend of Juan.
I still don't know why he did it.

Terry won't talk about it, but I'm sure
she's always thinking about him.

Don't judge her hastily.
She's a fine girl.

I bet you despise her.
- Not at all.

Her parents divorced.
Her mother's French.

She spent her childhood
drifting between Paris and New York.

It's marked her.
She was very affected by Juan's death.

I'm very fond of her,
but sometimes she frightens me.

I don't want to end up like Juan.

She's tough and strong,
but she doesn't help.

I feel at home with you.

I was feeling discouraged, empty,
ready to jump into the Seine.

Now I feel better.

You're exaggerating.

No, I want you to take the part.

Call me about it tomorrow. Promise?

Promise.

- Am I late?
- A little.

- Where's Jean-Marc?
- He couldn't come. How was it?

I'll tell you later.

You see?
- What of it?

How did you know her?

Her brother asked me to help her
find a room. I know the landlord.

- Like me.
- Like you.

How was the exam?
- I didn't go.

- What?
- I didn't want to.

- What will the family say?
- They're used to it.

I've been offered a part in a play.

- By whom?
- Gérard.

- Did you accept?
- I'm thinking it over.

You would be good.

It's stuffy in here.
- I'm done.

Where shall we go?

- Wherever you want.
- No, you decide.

Gérard's very nice,
but this will lead to nothing.

So what?

- You have no experience.
- I'll work at it.

Listen. He's grown up.

Let him paddle his own canoe.
One actor more or less —

Where are you going?

I'm calling Gérard to say I accept.

A few weeks later

Is this wind westerly that blows?

Southwest.

When I was born, the wind was north.

Was't so?

My father, as nurse said,
did never fear —

It's no use.
I can't act without the fan. I'm used to it.

- Make an effort.
- Here it is.

Here's your wind.

Continue.

My father, as nurse said,
did never fear —

This won't do. Take it away.

- It's all I've got.
- Get rid of it.

Never mind the wind, the sea.
If I had my music —

You won't find another like me.

I know him.
He'll be buying us drinks in an hour.

Let's get on with it.

Don't mind me.

"When I was born —"

When I was born, the wind was north.

Was't so?

I must go.

Of course.

I'll feed you the lines.

When I was born, the wind was north.

Was't so?

Ay me! Poor maid, born in a tempest
when my mother died —

You see? Here she goes.

...a lasting storm,
whirring me from my friends.

What's all that?

It's the wrong speech.

What are you thinking of?

Nothing.

Why can't you say two words simply,
normally?

Hey, Gérard. If it doesn't work,
just throw in some music.

- What music?
- Juan's.

Right. Juan's.
When you've found it.

But I don't know where it is.

- So look.
- I don't feel like it.

What about Juan's friends?

Run your own errands.

Maybe Terry doesn't want to see them.

Stick to your lines.

Let's go on.

Another scene.
Ghislaine, Minna.

REGISTRATION THURSDAY

- Something wrong?
- No.

Are you mad at Gérard?

You are, don't deny it.

I went through it too — being indispensable,
then treated as a prop.

- Have you known him long?
- Since last year.

- Was he with Terry then?
- No. Why?

You're too interested in Gérard.
That'll get you nowhere.

Gérard is in danger, I'm sure of it.

- Who says?
- A friend of Juan... and Terry.

He knows Juan didn't kill himself.
He knows a secret, perhaps from Terry.

- What sort of secret?
- I don't know. Something dreadful.

Juan knew. Now he's dead.

Gérard doesn't know,
but he may learn it.

From Terry?

I think so.

Why don't you tell Gérard?

He wouldn't believe me.
I must have proof.

You'll need witnesses. Your friend.

He says I must forget it all.

- You're sure he wasn't —
- Kidding me?

I can't believe it.

- You don't believe me either?
- I don't know.

I only saw Juan a couple of times,
but Terry wasn't his only friend.

He had many friends.
You must find them, question them,

ask how he spent his last days.

It's the only way to find out.

- What else can I do?
- Go by the yard. It'll be easy.

It's the Broken Hearts Club.

Got a light?

Gérard, wait.

Damn it.

- What if I told you you were in danger?
- In danger?

- Wait for me.
- You want one?

Because of Terry.

It's jealousy. Hear that, Terry?

- Yes.
- Doesn't it make you laugh?

No. I may be a dangerous girl.

I always liked femmes fatales.

Perhaps I could look for Juan's tape,
if Terry doesn't mind.

- It'll keep you occupied.
- Don't be bitchy.

How will you go about it?
- Leave it to me.

Good luck.

I'll kiss you if you find it.
- That's an incentive.

- Laurence, do you know where Juan lived?
- No.

I'll find out.

What if Anne were right?

How?

- I think you know more than you say.
- So?

That's why I like you.

I can never open this door.

I know you know.

You don't know what I know.

Your knee is in the way.

Tell me.

No. This way I can keep you.

He died in this woman's place.

Aniouta Barsky?

What do you want?

- I'm a friend of Gérard Lenz.
- Don't know him.

He was a friend of Juan's.

Well?

Well, it's difficult to explain.

I wonder if you have heard about
a tape which Juan made.

No. Where?

At a friend of Gérard's.

- I know nothing about it.
- But you knew Juan?

Yes. Why?

Did he never say anything that —

Not that I remember.

- Did he never speak of—
- What?

Philip Kaufman or Gérard or —

Or Gérard's girl?

Terry?

Who sent you?

No one.

Did this Gérard send you?

Not exactly.

I'm sorry,
but it's important for me to know.

- What?
- All you can tell me about Juan.

I don't know what you want,
but this is the wrong address.

I can't tell you anything.

I came home one night and found him
lying with a knife in his belly.

He had rolled there, half cold already.
He couldn't talk.

- But before that?
- What?

I wasn't here when it happened.

I was at my mother's.

He might not have done it if I was,
because of the kid.

- His son?
- No.

Two years before him.

- You're sure it was suicide?
- Of course.

If not, it was a good imitation.
He talked about it all the time.

- In what way?
- Corruption, end of the world —

That was his word.

He couldn't care less if I understood.

I was just supposed to be happy
to have him.

He broke up with me several times,
but came back for refuge.

He always came back.
At last he stayed.

- You know Terry?
- Yes.

What's she like?

Beautiful, hard.

I don't know.

I think she drove him mad.

Whatever she did to him,
it wasn't nice.

I couldn't say anything.
I never knew how he'd take it.

I never stuck my nose in his business.
I didn't want to know about it.

There were always
plots, secrets, revolutions.

Everything was bribery,
corruption, washed up.

I didn't dare question him.

I waited.

I waited for it to end.

- Why ask me all this?
- As I said, I'm looking for that tape.

What's that?

A tape recording.

Do you know who might have it?
- I don't think so.

Someone. Anyone.

- Why?
- I must know.

Don't say I told you.

There's Dr. de Georges.

Who's that?

Jean-Bernard de Georges,
the economist.

He said he admired Juan.
He kept an eye on him.

Juan was flattered. He didn't realize
de Georges was interested in Terry.

You can find his address.

Don't say who told you about him.

- Thank you.
- No thanks to me.

- I called you.
- Yes, come in.

I think we've met.

Did you know Juan?

No.

May I ask you about him?
- Go ahead, please.

What was he like?

You are very curious.

My ward.

I knew Juan well,
a specimen of a vanishing race —

rabid individualists

who want everything to be destroyed.

And who destroy themselves first.

A sort of biological inevitability.

Juan disappointed me.

I love music.

Once I had great hopes for him,

but he was too subjective —
far too subjective.

He thought he could solve all problems

without reflection or calculation.

Calculation!

Think what one can do with numbers.

The boy was a walking anachronism.

That tape recording.

Yes, I heard that tape once.
I remember it well.

It was rather poor.

Absolute crap.

It must be lost.
He destroyed almost everything he did.

A sort of nihilistic obsession.

I'm sorry I can't help you.

How's Gérard getting along?
- Not too well.

I admire the naïveté
and enthusiasm of youth.

Perhaps it will all work out.

Give Mademoiselle Yordan my regards.

Terry?

And don't look any further.
You won't find it.

What must he have thought of you?

He's hiding something. He feared me.

I was sure he'd call when I left.

- Call whom? Why?
- I don't know.

You're imagining things.

This childishness
will only end in trouble.

It's my own business.

Mine too. I've worked for de Georges
and I'd like to again.

What work?

Chores: investigations,
reports, everything.

- Why do that?
- You're funny.

You think we can live like saints?

No one's perfect, not even Gérard.

- Shut up.
- Why? I'm a realist.

I have no illusions.

There are no heroes and no saints.

- Hi.
- Hey, Gérard.

Okay, next.

Next what?

We'll take it from there.

Will it bother you if I stay?

In theory, no.

- And in fact?
- Yes.

- Why?
- It's a fact, just that.

Too bad.
I like you. I'd like to help you.

Okay, fine.

Where's François?
- In a radio quiz.

- When will he be back?
- When he can.

I can never have a proper rehearsal!

Let's start.
- Boult.

- Sir?
- Search the market narrowly.

Mytilene is full of gallants.

We lost too much money this mart
by being too wenchless.

We were never so much out of creatures.

We have but poor three,

and they can do no more
than they can do;

and they with continual action
are even as good as rotten.

But shall I search the market?

A little young for a brothel-keeper.

The stuff we have,
a strong wind will blow it to pieces,

they are so pitifully sodden.

I'll go search the market.

It's coming along.
Still a bit affected, Virginie.

Shakespeare's all very well,
but I prefer operetta.

Yes, I know, I know.

We'll skip the pirates, who aren't here,
and take it from Pander's exit.

Virginie.

Boult, take you the marks of her,
and cry,

"He that will give most
shall have her first."

Such a maidenhead were no cheap thing,
if men were as they have been.

Performance shall follow.

Alack that Leonine was so slow.

He should have struck, not spoke;

or that these pirates,
not enough barbarous —

Why stand like a post?

Poetry is movement, moving forward.

I want you to seem to be surging forward.

Try again.

Alack —

- Why not?
- Never speak to me of that again.

Alack that Leonine was so slow.

He should have struck, not spoke —

Leave us.

Or that these pirates,
not enough barbarous,

had not o'erboard thrown me
for to seek my mother.

Work on it at home.
Take a rest now.

Paul and Virginie, go on.

I have cried her almost to
the number of her hairs.

I have drawn her picture with my voice.

- What's wrong with Gérard?
- Worries, as you know.

- Nothing else?
- What else could there be?

- He seems to be so distraught.
- Rightly so.

Philip spoke to me about Juan.

About his death.

He did wrong.

It's not a subject for conversation.

You're wasting your time with Terry.
She'll never tell you anything.

I know.

Terry acts mysterious.
That's how she keeps Gérard.

Anne, come back onstage.

But I must go, you know.

You can't leave without rehearsing.

I've got to eat.

- What is it?
- Something dumb.

Why do some stupid job?

- Why not pay us for rehearsals?
- With what?

Find another profession if you're broke.

Get out, and don't come back!

Val, find another guy.

Easier said than done. Keep him.

It's fascinating, but I must go.

Pierre, where are you going?

I'm late. See you later.

Let me go. I must speak to him.

What a farce!

What have I done?

Are you paid to drive me mad?

What?

Why are you here, you spy?

What is it?

Nothing.

- Nothing?
- I just wanted to see you. That's all.

That's all?

Yes. Why?

You don't look too good.

It's nothing much.

Just a touch of the blues.

Is it the theater, or Gérard?

Both.

Neither is worth it.

Do you still want the truth?

The truth is that it's not important.

Plays work, or they don't work.

They're pastimes for intellectuals.

Open your eyes. Look around.
Everywhere. Even in this hotel.

Have you noticed the people
who live in this hotel?

They're worth more than
any little actor.

I have no little actor.

If you haven't yet, you will.

You know why Juan's dead
and I hold on?

I've got reasons to off myself too.

We won't mention Terry.
Too dangerous for us.

I'm around
because I'm not crazy about an idea.

There's only one solution:
don't think.

I cling to people I meet: you, anyone.

I look at them: they exist.

They're still alive and free,
their feet on the ground.

If they can see me too,
it means I'm still here,

that they think of me as one of them.

That's egotistical.

Maybe. I don't give a damn.

- Do you hate me?
- Right, I do.

Believe me, I'm right.

Look at people passing by.
They live in a real world.

Take those in my hotel.
Room 20, Birgitta.

The girl you saw.

Finnish, age 19.
Ambition: happiness.

Works as a model,
hoping for better things.

Room 13, Karoly, age 24,
from Budapest.

Arrived with 50 words of French,
still wants to be a doctor.

Room 9, Gustave Baron, 67.

A tiny pension.
One son, killed 1940.

Room 11, Minna, from Darmstadt.
Came to France four years ago to —

Hello, Minna.
How are you?

- You know her?
- I'm in Pericles too.

- What's that prove?
- Nothing. We're both right.

That's what's complicated.

Thanks for your advice,
but I'll try to work things out myself.

Wish me luck.
- Of course, Anne. Good luck.

I won't abandon you.

Gérard, you want some?

- No, thanks.
- Sure?

It's Anne.

Hello.

- Have you seen Philip?
- Yes.

- Good guy.
- Of course.

Why always Philip?

He's tough.

- What's that mean?
- Like everyone, he can't live alone.

- That's deep?
- Alone with his thoughts.

More and more deep.

And what are your thoughts?

The usual: comfort, good whiskey.

Beautiful girls.

Obviously.
Well, what more do you want?

I didn't mean that.

Sorry. How about your thoughts?

I was thinking of Philip,
for a change.

How it felt to be exiled.

I feel more and more like an exile myself.

It's no use.

As if Terry had initiated me
into an order of exiles.

You said that already.

- Who was it?
- De Georges.

- Now what does he want?
- Can't you guess?

But what does he think?

Besides, you're all in exile.

Do you feel at home?
Doesn't this corruption disgust you?

The time draws nigh.

I don't want to stay to the end.

One must always take one's bow.

To boos? No, thanks.

I'd rather slip out
before the tomatoes.

Rotten ones.

Have you finished? You're not funny.

I'm not trying to be funny.

You're grotesque.

Why?

You're spouting literature
at the wrong time.

Go on.

- You irritate me.
- Point one. What's next?

You're a pain.
What should I tell you?

- Everything.
- Later. Not in front of the children.

Later then.

All right.

What?

- Be quiet, please.
- Why?

You know why.

This is becoming fascinating.

Don't get so upset.

Can't we even have a joke?

Sorry.

You're looking for Philip?

Yes. Do you know —

I don't know where he is.

- He'll be back?
- Surely.

Can I give him a message?

- No, I must see him.
- Wait in my room.

Come on.

Smoke?

Have you known him long?

I don't care, you know.
I'm not jealous.

No, only a few days. And you?

I've known him since he's lived here.

Have a seat.

- Is that long?
- Just three or four weeks.

- And before?
- I don't know.

He had some money
when he came to Paris.

Then he let himself go.

How come?

All sorts of reasons.

He had many illusions.

He thought he'd be welcomed here
by free spirits. He was disappointed.

"Naught worse than
the narrow spirit of liberals."

But there was something else.

Something else?

He didn't leave New York alone.

- Terry?
- You know her?

- A little.
- Oh, well.

She broke up with him,
I don't know why,

and that didn't help.

Why am I telling you all this?

- Did you know Juan?
- I heard Philip speak of him.

It seems he was very talented.
So they say.

I know he was handsome.

I've got a photo of him
that Philip threw away.

Want to see it?

- Who's that?
- That's his sister.

Juan's?

I saw her two or three times.

A strange girl.

A militant.

She's disappeared.
I don't know where.

Does Philip?

No. He's worried.

Has Philip ever mentioned
a tape of Juan's?

I don't know
anything about music,

or politics.

They say Juan was plotting.

He was famous for doing nothing.

He spent his days
at the Royal with friends.

They'll be there still.

They may help.

- Do you know them?
- In passing.

I don't know their names.

Shall I come with you?
- Yes.

They should be there now.

You won't wait for Philip?

My brother. A friend.

How are you?
- Fine, and you?

Very well.

- Feeling better?
- Yes.

Good. I'm off now.
Come and see me tomorrow.

See you tomorrow. Bye.
- Tomorrow.

A tape? It's possible.

All Spaniards play the guitar.

I remember something.
Maybe it was him.

Nothing much. I fell asleep.

- Where did you hear it?
- At a friend's.

What friend?

A girl called... Tania something.

A Russian name.

The last descendant of Genghis Khan.

Do you remember Tania's name?

- Fedin.
- That's it. Tania Fedin.

- Where does she live?
- Near the Odéon somewhere.

Do you know?

Your actor friends might know.

She did a bit of acting.

Why pretend not to know me?
- I don't know you.

Bitch.

Was this Juan talented?

So they say.

He didn't look it.
More like the cursed type.

The kind who use
their genius to get by.

His main job lay in sitting for hours
without saying a word.

He'd watch passersby,
especially girls.

If he didn't like someone,

he'd hit him.

Once he got two weeks

for hitting a man
he said was a fascist spy.

- Spy?
- Yes.

You believe that?

It's okay by me.

"You're adorable"

That's all I know,
and all I want to know.

You were in a hurry last night.

What were you doing around here?

- Out for a walk.
- With that floozy? Give me her address.

And your fella?
- Who?

Your Gérard. Is he well?

I don't know.

Cat got your tongue?

You're hiding something.

Is it Gérard?

Terry?

Yes and no.

You wouldn't understand.

I could try.

Why not tell me?

Either I'm crazy,

or Gérard is doomed.

Doomed?

Like Juan.

Why?

I don't know.

Gérard is doing everything Juan did
before he died.

He can't stop.

- Because of Terry?
- Maybe.

Why Terry?

Have you seen Philip again?

Why?

- Seen him?
- No. Why?

No reason.

- Does Gérard see him?
- I don't think so.

What's he done that's so bad?

- Who?
- Gérard.

Look at yourself. You're pale.

Really?

Don't take any notice.

You're nice.
- Maybe.

- What's the time?
- 3:30.

- Already?
- Yes, already.

- Could you lend me —
- How much?

- Ten.
- Here's five.

Why not go home during the vacation?
- Later. Not now.

What do you want to do? Act?

Oh, right now —

You might work it out.

I know someone who might help Gérard.

It's up to Terry.
- How?

You heard me.

Otherwise, your friend Gérard has had it.

Keep me posted, eh?

Luck's on our side.
Meet at my place. Gérard

- What's up?
- A secret.

Everyone here?

I have great news.

The Théâtre de la Cité,
one of the biggest in Paris,

has taken the play.

There's a gap in their season.
They want our Pericles.

I've signed for 30 performances.

Good-bye, Gérard.

- What's wrong?
- Don't you understand?

Understand what?

Sorry, but I'd rather
not see you again.

Is it serious?

No, don't worry. It's better this way.

It clears the air.

It wouldn't have lasted.

It's all for the best.

Are you free tomorrow?
- Why?

You'll have to come
to the theater for an audition.

A pure formality. I'll rehearse you.

See you at noon tomorrow,
the theater café.

I'll be there.

Don't worry, Anne.
It will all work out.

It will all work out.

As everyone's kissing —

- I just got here.
- I know.

Will you drink something?

A Vittel.

One Vittel, please.

I brought my copy,
but I can't remember a word.

It no longer matters.

What do you mean?

You'll soon know.

They took the play
only on certain conditions:

some cast changes.

And my part?

I must use a well-known actress.

- Who?
- I don't know.

Are you angry?

Not at all.

You despise me.

Forgive me.

Forgive me too.

What for?

I promised you Juan's tape,
but I can't find it.

It doesn't matter.
They'll impose a composer on me too.

- Are you sure?
- Of what?

Isn't there another way?

I mean...

can't we go on with the play
as before?

No, it's too risky.

This way is more certain.

Could it be a trap?

What trap?

Do you think I'm wrong?

You must be right.

One must make concessions.

I don't know.

I so want to stage this play,
I'd do anything.

Well, almost.

I have an idea.
- Yes?

I'll try to get you a job as an understudy.

You'll get paid for it.

Okay.

I must be going now.
See you later?

See you.

No, Anne, I can't see you.

I can't see you or anyone else.
Leave me alone.

Philip, I beg you.

It's about time.
You're playing with fire.

You don't appreciate the consequences
for all of us.

Why this investigation?

What's Juan's death to you?

Leave the dead alone.

What have I done to you?

You encourage me, discourage me,
drive me crazy.

What's the game?

What use am I to you?

Answer me.

Don't try too hard to find out.

Calm down.

The hotel's being searched.

Men in plain clothes.
- Which department?

Hard to say.
A funny-looking bunch.

Take Anne to your room.

- What about you?
- Don't worry about me.

Good luck!

- What is all this?
- Philip's been expecting it for days.

What?

He told me he hoped for a catastrophe.

That alone would prove him right.

He asks you to forgive the harm he's done.

It was necessary.
- Necessary for what?

That's all he said.
I thought you'd understand.

He got away.

A low-key reply. Note that.

Ay me! Poor maid born in a tempest
when my mother died,

this world to me is like a lasting storm,
whirring me from my friends.

Is this wind westerly that blows?

Southwest.

When I was born, the wind was north.

Was't so?

Excuse me, Gérard.

I'd like to do something
for this wind bit.

I saw a peasant do this once
while I was on vacation.

I can't bear the Côte d'Azur.

Where was I?

Oh, yes, the wind business.

I'd like to wet my finger.

Like this. Get it?

To test the wind direction.

I understand, of course,

but I think it will
slow the pace of the scene.

Not a bit.

Take my word for it.

I know my job.

Acting since I was 16.

As a puppet?

I'd like to have
Monsieur Boileau's opinion.

What do you say?

If you feel it inside, then do it.

Of course.

It's an unusual gesture. Do it again.

Southwest.

Yes, it's...

fine.

Very Renaissance.

With proper lighting it will go over big.

It depends on you.

Can you place the finger in a spotlight?

We'll try it with a 250.

I haven't done the lighting yet.

Mademoiselle Vera d'lstria insists
that Monsieur Boileau lights her sets.

Even when she designs window displays,

Monsieur Boileau lights them.

What if he refuses?

No matter, I've got him.

On stage!

Is this wind westerly that blows?

Southwest.

When I was born, the wind was north.

Was't so?

My father, as nurse said,
did never fear,

but cried "Good seamen!"
to the sailors,

galling his kingly hands,
haling ropes,

and, clasping to the mast, endured a sea
that almost burst the deck.

Come, say your prayers.

What mean you?

Where are you going?
See Gérard. He'll fit you in.

I'm playing a lady-in-waiting.

Why will you kill me?

To satisfy my lady.

Why would she have me killed?

Now, as I can remember, by my troth,
I never did hurt her in all my life.

Wait for me

I never spake a bad word,
nor did ill turn to any living creature.

Believe me, la, I never killed a mouse,
nor hurt a fly.

I trod upon a worm against my will,
but I wept for it.

How have I offended,

wherein my death
might yield her any profit,

or my life imply her any danger?

- How are you?
- Fine.

- What are you doing?
- Boileau wants to hear my Mark Antony.

You know —

"Friends, Romans, countrymen,
lend me your ears.

I come to bury Caesar,
not to praise him.

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,
and Brutus is an honorable man."

Anne.

Anne.

- What is it?
- Did you find that girl?

Tania?

No, I gave up.

You mean Tania Fedin?

Silence in the wings!

I ate with her last Sunday.
She's moved.

35 rue de Bellechasse.

- Hold, villain!
- A prize! A prize!

Half-part, mates. Half-part.

Much quicker, as though you were
rising from the sea.

But it's not a surprise.

Remember the pirates' galley
in the background.

What galley?

You know about a galley?

It's news to me.

A model manned by dwarfs.

Audition all dwarfs in Paris.
Nothing below a meter —

I know you might not find them.
We could use kids with beards.

- But why?
- Third dimension, my boy.

Mademoiselle d'lstria has a knack
for such nuances.

Got that, Jacquot?

I don't want to see anyone.

I must see you.

Who sent you?
The lamb or the dragon?

The lamb.

Come in then.

Help me.

Untie me.

It's only an exercise.

If the body is upright, so is the soul.

We must prepare.

The hour approaches.

We must temper our souls with fire.

God will spew forth the tepid.

Are you ready?

The star Absinthe approaches Earth.

The waters are poisoned.

Children drink a deadly milk.

Do you read the papers?

A man in London died yesterday,

with the stigmata
of Hiroshima on his body.

The end is very near.

Very near.

Be not afraid, do not tremble.

Who sent you?

Jean-Val gave me your address.

He's a scoundrel. I owe him money
and he keeps pestering me to pay.

But go on.
- I want to ask you something.

- I haven't got any money.
- Have you got Juan's tape?

- Why?
- You have it?

No, I had it.

He took it back
three days before he died.

He probably wanted it
for that fool Aniouta.

I don't think so.
Do you know Juan's sister?

I used to. If she had it, it's gone.

A little tape is easy to erase.

Why gone?

Maria Almereyda was sent to Spain.

Sent on a mission — to start a strike,
or some such nonsense.

Do you know the tale of the warlord?

He had a very dear friend.

But all warlords
come to distrust their friends.

Friends are our mirror image.

Sending him back to enemy territory,

he had him parachuted over the sea.

Then he declared him a martyr.

Juan's sister's friends did likewise.

You think she's in danger?

I think she's been arrested,
maybe shot.

All those close to Juan must die.

The American girl, the actor, myself.

I don't know why, but I know.

We die because we are life.

All must perish.

And you who have reached towards
the secret,

you now bear the fatal mark.

You took your time.
- I met Paul.

What are you talking about?
- About Juan.

And how I asked him
for the child you won't give me.

I didn't rule it out.

Will you eat with us?

No, I must go.

Afraid?

I know how it is.

Courage drains from us,
like water from a hand.

Nothing can be done.

Await a sign.

Await his return. Be patient.

Ham.

I can't wait. I give up.

Patience is difficult.

Yes, child, waiting is difficult.

- Am I disturbing you?
- Not at all. Come in.

Good evening, Anne.

I quit the production this afternoon.

You're not surprised?

- Why have you given up?
- I'd had enough.

Once you start making concessions,
you can't stop.

Boileau's taking over.
He said he could do without my ideas.

What about the others?

They quit, or were fired.
But Paul is in luck.

Good for him.

Couldn't you have fought it longer?

There are limits.

But I'm satisfied.
I told them what I thought.

I think I scared Boileau.

I know I did.

Now they'll make me pay for it.

They'll send me back to the sticks.

What can they do?

I'm at the end of my rope.

But I won't end up like Juan.

If I could, I'd blow everything up.

That means nothing, I know.

Anne, perhaps I seem normal —

well, almost normal —

but I feel I'm lost
at the end of the earth.

You're the last human face
on the horizon.

I have this curious dizziness.

Things seem to whirl about me
faster and faster.

You need something to hang on to?

Exactly.

Have you seen Terry?

- Don't play games. I'm serious.
- So am I.

I called Terry.

She's cut herself off.

She won't see anyone.

She talked in riddles:

"I am unworthy of you,
you are unworthy of me."

Do you love me?

Goethe said:
"If I love you, is that your affair?"

To hell with Goethe. Answer me.

I'm fond of you, but I have no time to talk.
I must work.

Why?

I must take another exam in October.

Well, good luck.
Work hard and marry a notary.

Why not?

Good night, Gérard.

It's no?

In that case: "I have no alternative

but to cast myself into the sea."

Molière, George Dandin,
Act 3, Scene —

Fifteen.

Why not?

And then?

Then he left.

Perhaps I was wrong.
It was my pride.

His too.

I'm no saint.

You love him?

I don't know where I am.
Do you think he's in danger?

I'll just be a moment.

Okay.

See you later.

What was I saying?

Oh, yes, don't worry. It'll work out.

Take a few days off. It'll do you good.

- You think so?
- Things will work out.

Stay with us. Come and see some
silent films at a friend's.

That will cheer you up.

Why the sad face?

Give us a smile.

No problem. See you later.

- See you tomorrow.
- Tonight.

If you don't call before midnight,
I'll kill myself. Gérard

Sorry to bother you, but —

Mr. Kaufman isn't here.

We haven't seen him for a week.

Another token, please.

Jean-Marc, did I wake you?

I must see you right away.

I'm coming.

What is it?

Is it a joke?

No, his apartment is locked.
No answer.

Could you smell gas?
He's with a girl.

Jean-Marc, please.

What can I do about it?

Anything, but we can't just stand here.

Let's go to Terry's.
Maybe they've made up.

Let's go.

Maybe I should call first.

Whatever you want.

It's Anne.

Anne Goupil.

Have you seen Gérard?

I had a message
saying that he might kill himself.

Can you come at once?

Hurry.

Why ask her to come?

Will you tell her?
- I don't know.

I don't want to see her.

As you wish.

Hurry up.

Is that you, Anne?

Show me.

Didn't you call him?
- It was too late.

Of course.

- What can I do?
- You're thrashing about in the dark.

- Is that Juan?
- It's Juan's tape.

You see, it wasn't far away.

- Did Philip know?
- Philip knew.

Why didn't you give it to Gérard?

Why?

You don't love Gérard.
You deserted him.

No. I'm afraid.

It built up, like for Juan.

- You're sure you're not wrong?
- I wish I were.

How I've wished Philip were wrong,
how I've refused to believe him.

Now that's no longer possible.

What is it? What's going on?

What is it?

It's Philip.

He always talked about it.

In '45 we thought the death
of one man had solved it all.

Anne, this is the greatest conspiracy of all,
on a worldwide scale.

- But what? Who?
- Still the same ones.

But in 30 years,
methods have changed.

They're ready to regain power,
on the sly.

This time, no mercy.

All will be sacrificed
to efficiency, the state, technology.

They're biding their time.

Meanwhile, they've worked hard.

You don't care?

But why Gérard?

It affects him, Juan, you, all of us.

Those who don't give in are broken.

Either we huddle together like flotsam,
or swallow something like this.

Total oblivion in 10 minutes.

Carrying it reassures me.

You're making fun of me.

Do I look like it? Listen to me.

You wanted to know,
now hear me out.

Rule One of the organization: secrecy.

Rule Two: the least sign of treason
and you are condemned.

You can't live alone with that secret.

Philip's told me this for months.

He learned it by chance in New York
while investigating.

He thought he could escape to Europe.

I saw him withdraw into himself,
destroy himself.

I asked him stupid questions.

One day he told me everything.

Perhaps that saved him.

But then —

But then we couldn't go on
living together sharing this thing.

I didn't want to believe.
It was too frightful.

I tried my best to be rid of it.

I left him.

But the secret stayed with me,
driving me crazy.

I couldn't keep the secret any longer.
I had to tell someone, or die.

Now Juan is dead.

A coincidence, perhaps.

He was mixed up in dangerous things.

I tried to think that.

Then Gérard.

He became strange, restless.

His play fell through.

Philip hounded me with his prophecies.

And you, with your silly questions.

De Georges, always after me.

De Georges?

I hoped to save Gérard.

I was wrong.

I couldn't go on lying to Gérard.

I abandoned him.

Don't leave him. He needs you.

What will you do?

I don't know.
Go back to Gérard's,

try to break down the door —
something!

Go on. I just can't.
Go. Quickly.

- What did she tell you?
- Nothing.

Secrets as always.

Here?

No, further.

Stop.

Hi, Anne. How are you?

Did you send me this?

Me? Do I look as if I'd write
such nonsense?

Are you angry with me? Don't be.

- Why not?
- I already told you.

You expect me to fall into your arms?

That would be nice.

I can't.

How's it going?

- Fine.
- Over the blues now?

Much better.

It seems like a bad dream.

Your "organization" seemed a bit much.

I know.

Mixing with geniuses is bad for you.

Common sense comes back,
sooner or later.

It's for you.

Hello, Anne.

I'm sorry.

Dead?

It's not true.

I'm coming.

- What is it?
- Gérard is dead.

What?

Gérard has committed suicide.
I'm going.

He's dead?

Don't go. Please, don't go.

- Why not?
- I can't tell you more. Don't go.

Please. You'd never forgive me.

Get a hold of yourself, Pierre.

I wouldn't forgive you either.

Who found him?

Terry called me.

It's really suicide?

Perhaps.

- He was murdered?
- Perhaps.

You're sure it's not suicide?

And Juan wasn't suicide?

I'm not sure of anything.

It may be a coincidence,
but something's fishy.

But maybe they can push
their victims to suicide.

How?

The art of seduction, persuasion.

Man has long sought the devil's face.

We're beginning to see it.

It's all my fault.

I acted like an idiot.

I provoked it by trying to help.

You did nothing of the sort.

You're a cog in a vast machine.
It's beyond you — infinitely beyond.

What do they want?

Power, world domination.

A nice, worldwide concentration camp.

In a spy film, nabbing de Georges
would suffice. But he's only a link.

I think it's a crime syndicate,
a dictatorship syndicate.

But if they killed Gérard —

Then we're all suspect.

It's for you.

Anne. I'm to blame.

Pierre, what did you do?

I can't say now,

but I swear I did all I could
to prevent this.

I know why he's dead
and who's responsible.

Who?

Later. He tried to buy my silence
and I refused.

He said he'd break me.

He's capable of anything.

I stood up to him.

Now I'm afraid.
I don't know what to do. Help me.

Where are you?

What station?

Dupleix. I don't know where to go.

Come to me. I beg you.

I'm coming.

We'll go together.

We'll meet at Jean-Val's place.

They're rehearsing a new show.

- I can't believe that Pierre —
- Shut up.

Why not? I always suspected him.

From the start,
I knew he was one of them.

They're a pitiless breed,
and deserve no pity.

Shut up!

Come quickly, Anne.

Take me away, Terry,
before they find me.

- Where?
- Anywhere. Away from Paris.

We could rejoin Philip.

There's only two seats.
Pierre, you come with me.

You think so?

You must.

Anne, take a taxi.
You know where to go?

Jean-Val told me.

- Got any money?
- A little.

Here's some. See you later.

Bye, Anne.

Pierre's with Terry.
They haven't arrived yet?

No. They must have got lost.

Don't worry.

- You knew it already?
- Pierre?

It's what I tried to find out.

- Why didn't you tell me?
- I should have.

You used me.

You gambled with Gérard's life.

Anne, I had to be sure
that we weren't imagining things.

And are you sure now?

I no longer know.

I stopped by my old place
on the way here. I found this.

- What is it?
- A letter from Juan's sister in Spain.

What does she say?

"We were wrong.

Juan was murdered
by agents of the Falange.

That's not fantasy.

You can fight against that.
I'm fighting."

What is it?

Nothing.

Here they are.

Where's Pierre?

- I dropped him off.
- That's impossible.

Terry, you didn't dare.

Dare what?

Have a look.

- I want to know what happened.
- Nothing.

He asked me to stop,
and he got out.

Maybe he didn't want to see you.

You killed him. It's you!

Why should I?

I don't believe you!

- I was wrong.
- I know.

I was wrong. Pierre wasn't guilty.

I know, Philip.

I was wrong, Terry.

Pierre wasn't guilty.

Keep back. Leave us.

Please, leave us! I'm used to this.

Go and rest, Anne.

You must rest. That's an order.

Go on.

Anne, I don't know how to tell you.

- He was innocent?
- Almost.

Gérard did commit suicide.

De Georges drove him into a corner.

He got financial control of Pericles.

Gérard ended it all
rather than give in.

He thought he had another enemy,
and yielded to his loneliness.

What did Pierre do?

De Georges's dirty work.

What about the organization?

It's just an idea.
It exists only in Philip's imagination.

It's easy to encompass everything
in one idea.

His idleness...

his cowardice.

Nightmares are alibis.

And Gérard died for that.

Such organizations do exist,
but less clear-cut.

Money, policing, factions —
all the figures of fascism.

Evil has more than one face.

- And what about Pierre? Pierre too?
- Pierre is dead.

- You killed him?
- Yes. For no reason.

I found an atrocious letter
from de Georges on him.

Anyway, he was a rat.
- And you?

We're imbeciles.

It's all your fault.
You sought the sublime.

Poor fool.
- Go away.

Go away!

We're going.

Where?

You'll see.

- What will you do now?
- Continue. We must.

Stage Pericles. Are you with us?

What for?

Is this wind westerly?