All language subtitles for En.therapie.S01E16.1080p.BluRay.DD+5.1.x264-SbR_track4_[eng]

Philippe?

You’re not listening at all.

Yes?

IN THERAPY

ARIANE – MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2015, 9 A.M.

The restaurant?

Yes, the restaurant
was sort of his courtship ritual.

Adel’s the sort of guy
who wants to blow you away.

I soon realized he’d found this place
because it was highly rated online.

And then his face
when he was given the menu in Italian...

But his awkwardness was touching.

His awkwardness?

Yes, all the effort he was making
to get it right,

all the energy he was putting
into not disappointing me.

Am I really that intimidating?

He insisted on ordering wine.

I said we didn’t have to have wine,

which must have annoyed him
because he ordered the most expensive.

You should have seen him
pretending he liked it.

Why do men have this need to...

pretend they’re someone they’re not,

to seduce us?

I understand the pressure
to have to do everything well.

Making love, conversation...

On the subject of conversation,
he told me about the Bataclan.

I was sure he’d big himself up,
but not at all.

And I...

I discovered the real Adel,
who’s pretty shy.

It was in his silences that I knew.

Knew what?

Well, that...

I was going to sleep with him.

- Shall I carry on?
- Yes.

So, he paid.

Obviously he insisted on paying.

We went outside
and then I was hot for him.

I really had to have him.

We walked towards his car.

I expected him to make a move
as he’d taken control in the restaurant.

But nothing.

Then a door opened.

You mean a way out of the situation?

No, nothing like that.

Just the door to a building opened.

A couple were coming out.

And the lobby was a bit like...

in this building.

It’s funny.

And he went along with it?

We were in the dark up the back,
past the letterboxes,

only a few centimetres apart.

And I kissed him first.

We felt each other up for...
I don’t know, ten minutes?

But he was so hesitant.

So I grabbed his hands

and shoved them down there,
brought them up again...

He didn’t know what to do.

He was lost.

Maybe he’d forgotten how,
with anyone but his wife.

That’s what he kept saying.

That he hadn’t done it
with anyone else for...

ten years.

And not even with her, in fact.

I thought

that I’d have to be enterprising.

So I dragged him into the lift and...

I went for it.

Full steam ahead.

Full steam ahead?

I pulled down his zip,

and started blowing him.

You’re following me closely now, huh?

And...

and then...

He sort of resisted a bit to start,
but half-heartedly.

But when you know what you’re doing...
Well, I won’t spell it out.

So you just did it like that,
in the lift?

You weren’t afraid
of someone seeing you?

It’s the danger
that makes it exciting, right?

He made the same face
as you’re making now!

Everything in his manner
was so cold and calculating.

Whereas I, as I’ve said,
wanted something more instinctive.

Something a bit animalistic.

So... the lift...

moved things along?

What do you think?

I don’t know, tell me.

He doesn’t really like sex.

It’s something to accomplish for him,
a mission.

Something to accomplish,
like a good soldier.

What do you mean, like a good soldier?

I thought intervention cops like him
were cowboy types.

But...

That they’re just waiting
to unleash their impulses.

Because it’s pretty exciting
to be at the mercy of...

an uncontrollable desire.

But this was more like
he hadn’t had the mission orders.

And I was the cowboy.

I lifted my skirt,
dropped my panties, and...

Went all the way this time.

Yeah.

It was cold, efficient.

In and out, grinding, a machine.

No tenderness.

I could feel his breath

on the back of my neck.

He could have grabbed my hair,

but it was like he barely dared
touch me.

He didn’t even grab my hips,
like I was a vase he might smash.

And there...

with my face pressed up
against the cold metal of the lift...

tears came to my eyes.

He didn’t see anything, of course,
because of the position.

But I realized it would be
the saddest orgasm of my life.

Getting shafted like that, in a lift,

by a cop.

So I rubbed myself, to get it over with.

And you know what?

Against all expectation,
amidst all that sadness,

I think that orgasm...

was the most intense of my life.

It pulsed up my spine
like an electric shock,

and I started screaming...

really loud.

I think I scared him.

I think so because he pulled out.
I’m not even sure he came.

I never knew you could come
while being sad.

But I came with all my sadness.

Sorry, maybe this is a bit too intimate.

You must be used to it, though.

Used to it how?

With other patients.
The stuff they confide in you.

I didn’t think you’d be so flustered.

Me? No.

Oh, please!
You’re all uptight.

You had sex with my patient.

He’s not yours.

The patients don’t belong to you.
We have a life outside here.

Really?

You know what?

I think Adel will be the perfect lover.

And I’m sure we’ll have
a beautiful love story.

A love story?
Like little girls dream about?

Are we on that again?
Don’t you have anything better?

Do you think you jumped on him purely
by chance after last Monday’s session?

You think I was getting revenge on you?

You realized that you weren’t able
to communicate with me

in that specific way which I refused,

so you opened another channel
of communication through Chibane’s body.

It’s quite a sexy channel!

Do you remember what happened with
that male nurse a couple of weeks ago?

- You were imagining me.
- That’s totally different.

Are you sure?

You’re forgetting the attacks.
I told you how stressed we were.

And, just by chance,
Chibane has a link to them too.

Ariane, those events merely revealed
what had been troubling you for weeks.

Why did you need to say you loved me
after that night?

I told you, I was afraid for you.

Or did you choose
to reveal your feelings to me

by making love to another man?

But I was perfectly clear
about wanting to sleep with you.

I don’t need to fuck another guy
to get the message across.

Then why did you cry?

Where did
that deep well of sadness come from?

I don’t know.

Because...

it was crap?

Or the loneliness.

But you weren’t alone.

Maybe Adel wasn’t the person you wanted
to be with, just a substitute

for the one you really wanted
to be with.

A substitute for you.
So being with him I was with you?

Perhaps.

That’s not a very humble thought.
Aren’t you flattering yourself?

I see in it a sort of defiance.

By telling me about that evening,
you’re saying,

“Look what you’re missing, you coward!”

I think you cried when you realized that
nothing can ever happen between us.

That I’ll never sleep with you, Ariane.

I’m tired.

I don’t think I’ll stay much longer.

Didn’t you get much sleep?

No.

But it’s nothing to do with him.

Then tell me what happened.

Nothing.

Well, yes, I had a sudden craving
for French toast.

French toast?

Yeah.

We went back outside,

he offered to take me home, but...

neither of us wanted him to,
it would have felt so awkward.

We walked to his car,

and I said I’d get the metro,
but in reality I had...

an irrepressible craving
for French toast.

To smell it.

You know, when it’s straight out
of the frying pan.

My mom was the queen of French toast.

Every Friday after school
I’d go through the...

door into the lobby,

and I’d know if she was there or not
from the smell alone.

That smell permeated
the entire stairwell.

Then I’d go upstairs
and I knew I’d see her there,

dipping the bread
and laying it in the pan.

Then she’d put the plate before me
and watch me eat.

That was her magic power.

Then she got sick.

And when she started chemo
she stopped cooking.

How old were you?

About ten.

And she, who’d always been
so jolly and full of life,

was now exhausted all the time.

And that was just the start.

From her eyes
I knew she wouldn’t get better.

And last night you had a sudden craving
for French toast.

Yes, God knows why!

First I thought of going home
to make some.

Then I realized that wouldn’t work
as my fridge was bare.

And I thought
of that brasserie in the 18th,

which I remembered
because they have it on their menu.

Not that I’d ever ordered it.

But I got a bike

and crossed Paris.

Late at night.

I felt so free on that bike.

Then gradually I...

started noticing the people around me.

It was like I was opening my eyes
and seeing Paris for the first time...

since that fucking 13th November.

saw all these people in the street,

sitting on café terraces,
all together, drinking and laughing...

And I told myself
that we’d win this battle.

Yes, I really decided we’d win it.

This battle against those maniacs

who think God is the only horizon,
and obscurantism the only nation.

I told myself
that they were the dead ones.

And all these people I could see
were on the side of the living.

At one point
I stopped at a traffic light,

and a guy in a car
was listening to the radio really loud,

a hit from the 1980s.

And I thought that maybe I too
was on the side of the living.

Definitely, in fact.

And I started singing that song.

Focusing on the loveliest images
of my life

On the pale images of a love story...

Do you know it?

Jeanne Mas.

No.

Jakie Quartz.

- What does that make you think of?
- What?

That “focusing”.

I don’t know, it was just the song
on the radio at that moment.

It could have been any other song.

Anyway, the brasserie was still open.

Except that it came with a good chunk
of whipped cream, and I felt sick.

You were expecting your madeleine.

I don’t know what I was expecting,

but the smell of my mom’s recipe
was very specific.

And it was her mom’s recipe.

You know, from the days when
they created miracles from leftovers.

It’s funny because I never asked her
for the recipe.

At that age you don’t know
what will be important.

In short, the smell of the grease
nauseated me.

So I paid and went and got the metro.

It’s possible

that the intense memory of your mother
which came to you

was related to what happened with Adel.

What you went looking for in that lobby,
the door which opened

was maybe a door to your French toast,

to your pleasure in your mother.

The love in Chibane’s arms was...

strange as it sounds,
the love in your mother’s arms.

You’re sick.

That’s a revolting thing to say.

In a way, the child orgasms
at the mother’s breast,

and life thereafter is a constant
derivation of that initial orgasm.

Another five minutes
and you’ll be lecturing me

on the life drive and the death drive,

Eros, Thanatos,
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde...

All because you’re jealous
that I had sex with your patient.

I’ll spare you the lecture
on the links between Eros and Thanatos.

But I do maintain that the urge

which drew you to that male nurse,
to Chibane, and finally to me,

is probably linked
to the loss of your mother’s body,

to that abandonment
which you suffered.

Anyway, someone hasn’t forgotten me.

When I got home I got a message
from Adel, thanking me for the evening

and saying he wanted to see me again.

Do you think you will see him again?

He’s coming for me after this.

Here.

No, in the café downstairs.

You’re not worried
that Cedric will find out?

Maybe you want him to.

It’s over with Cedric.

Over? You’re having a break or...?

Right, a break.

A definitive break.

After our last session
I went straight to his office.

And I told him everything.
I said I was sorry, but...

I was calling it off.

Everything. Us, the wedding, everything.

How did you explain it?

I said that deep down
he knew it was all fake.

I just told him the truth.

And he was pretty cruel, actually.

I did deserve it a bit, but...

He stared at me,
I wondered if he was going to slap me,

then he took my hand and said,
“Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

He said he was finally seeing me
as I really am.

And that, luckily,

I was sparing him a long torment.

No, he didn’t say that,
he said “a long, endless suicide”.

That’s what he said.

And that he was seeing me as I am,
a social monster.

He was angry.

He must have been deeply hurt
at that moment.

Yeah, but I don’t give a damn.

About hurting him?

Right. Not in the slightest.

And I don’t want to talk about him.

So if we could change the subject.

I’d just like to see things from his...

Stop!

No more Cedric!

What’s making you angry?

It’s my therapy, not his!

Stop focusing on him
and focus on me!

- I am focusing on you.
- No! Focus on me!

Also, you want to get rid of me!

I don’t want to get rid of you.

I brought up the fact that...

Stop it for a minute, be honest!

You were very clear last week.

With your loony theory
about me being late,

laying the blame on me...

All because you dared not admit
that you feel something for me.

And because it’s difficult for you,
as a therapist, to...

I don’t know. But rather than making
an effort to continue this analysis,

so that we can finally be...

Together?

We already are.

After a year-there’s more intimacy
between us than in most couples.

You know a lot more about me than...

You know stuff no one else knows.

But it isn’t mutual.
You know nothing me.

I know a lot more than you think.

What you know and what you think
are different from a couple’s intimacy.

Our intimacy is particular to analysis.

So it always boils down to analysis?
Don’t you ever want to scrap it all?

Okay, your job consists of understanding
why I feel what feel for you.

You’ll say that my past, my family,

have a role in that.
My choices too.

The people I fall in love with,
or don’t.

But maybe relationships
can’t be reduced to just that,

a problem with mom or dad.

Does any of it make my love for you

less real?

I don’t know what else to do
to convince you.

You’re so convinced

that I’m idealizing you.

But that’s not true.

I don’t see you as the perfect figure
of the ideal man.

Handsome, intelligent
the perfect lover.

So how do you see me?

In all your imperfections.

For a start, you don’t love yourself.

You’re besieged with doubts, fissures.

You’re ill at ease in your body,

ill at ease in your profession,
with the man you’ve become...

Even in your private life...

I don’t know very much, of course,
but I feel that...

your marriage isn’t a happy one.

But I desire you like that.

Broken and lost like me.

You want to be with me to save me?

No.

For me to save you?
Because I understand your wounds?

Or maybe...

so you’ll feel less alone?

What you know about my wounds?

Do you know how much I hate myself?

I had my 33rd birthday
not very long ago.

And I realized...

that I’ve been hating myself
for 33 years.

And this hatred is so present,
all the time,

that it’s part of me, of who I am.

But now I’m done with it.

I don’t want it any more.

I can’t take it any more.

Why do you hate yourself so much?

You seem surprised.

It’s just that it’s the first time
you’ve mentioned it.

Maybe I’ve saved the best till last.

No, seriously, some people
figure me out in under an hour,

but you’ve seen nothing in a whole year.

I didn’t say that,

I just said that you’d never
actually said so before.

No, you didn’t see it.

Like you didn’t see
how much I desired you.

Maybe you’ve put all your guilt away
in a drawer.

Maybe you should examine
why you chose to ignore...

maybe subconsciously,

to ignore my desire.

Maybe you should see a shrink.

A good idea, I’ll give it some thought.

Getting back to you,
you have every reason to love yourself.

You’re beautiful, bright, sensitive...

Nothing about you isn’t likeable.

Why do you choose
to ignore all those reasons?

Why, why?

Why does one hate oneself?

Self-hatred usually comes
from a feeling of guilt.

When I was little,
my mother was in a bad way.

I was attentive, but I sensed
I wouldn’t be able to help her.

And I blamed myself.

Was she ill?

She was psychologically unstable.

And I thought I could help her.

I did everything
that a little boy of my age could do,

to get a smile from my mother.

I’d clear the table, wash the dishes,
proudly show her my school grades,

but she shunned it all,

and it made me ill
because I didn’t understand why.

So I thought it was my fault.

I turned my anger against myself,

feeling sure that a solution existed,
but I wasn’t able to find it.

And have you now forgiven yourself?

I think so, yes.

How does it feel?

You feel free, relieved of a burden.

Maybe that’s why you became a shrink.

To relieve...

others of the burden of their past?

Probably.

So you too, Doctor,
are the product of your history.

Yes, but that doesn’t mean you must
necessarily repeat that history.

Psychoanalysis allows us to unravel

certain subconscious knots
which stop us thinking in the present.

That must be Adel waiting for me.