All language subtitles for Gainsbourg.(Vie.Heroique).2010.BDRip.FR.x264.AC3.2.0-BzH29

Can I put my hand in yours?

No, you're too ugly

The Jew and France

What now?

My finger slipped

Do better than that, Lucien.

Play.

No!

What is this?

I don't like the piano!

I'm not interested in music!

Why do I have to learn?

You play and you earn nothing.

Play!

Play.

Interesting read?

It's about cowboys.

Mum...
- Yes?

Can I have a gun like a cowboy?

You're crazy!

Not a real one, a toy.

No.

War is not a game.

Play the piano.

I want a gun.

There are Hitler's soldiers everywhere
and you want a gun?

It's not fair that I'm paying
for your problems with Hitler.

Buy me a gun and I'll play the piano.

No.

What are you up to?

Just looking.

No, you're not.

Get your pissy paws away!

What do you want?

Nothing, ma'am.

Take a hike!

Over us the bloodstained banner
of tyranny holds sway

Of tyranny holds sway

It's bloody standard is raised,

It's bloody standard is raised,

O, do you hear there in our fields...

To slaughter sons, wives and kin...

Blood, blood is everywhere!

Blood, blood is everywhere!

The Jew and France

Well, well, Brochaut!

On top of smoking at work,

you lead young people astray.
Bravo!

He gave me the smoke, Mr Poletti.

Why are you in my office
before opening time?

It's him.

He wants his star before the others.

If you were late on a day like this ...

...I'd be ashamed forever.

Tell me...

Who do you think you are?

I'm Lucien Ginsburg
I'm a Jew.

My father is a pianist at the nightclub.

Eager to wear your star?

It's your star, sir.
You want me to wear it.

You're a cheeky one.

Shouldn't you be at school?

I've left school
for the Montmartre Art Academy.

The Montmartre Art Academy!

How about that!

If they take cocky lads like you...

...the place must be a disgrace!

Don't go believing that, sir.

Some very reputable people go there.

For instance, I often see
SS Lieutenant Karl Heinz Von Mayer.

We get on well.

One day,
he even gave me a brioche.

What is this nonsense?

Shall I introduce you?

He could help your career along...

What are you painting?

An adventure...

A little pianist. Everyone tells him...

"We're sick of seeing your ugly mug."

So he's out of work.

Even the worst dives
are sick of seeing his face.

The more they say it,
the bigger his mug gets.

He's helpless.

It's all other people ever see.

It makes his life hell.

He realises he can't get rid of it,

so he makes it swell
as much as he can.

In the end...

Plop!

It explodes.

- Does he die?
- No.

His ugly mug took such a beating...

...it turned into something else.

Professor Flipus.

Who is that?

A very scary man but very elegant.

So the people love him.

The way they like ogres
in the Grimm's Fairy Tales.

They love to hate him.

When he plays, everyone shuts up.

What does he play?

The stuff people like. Women mainly.
He's a ladies' man.

Sorry, I'll go to bed.

No, carry on.
You play better at night.

I should've asked first,
but I have to leave Paris

and can't come here again.

I wanted to take a drawing of you
with me.

There are lots of models here...

but I always wait for you.

Would you like to pose for me?

I might be a great artist one day.

May I get dressed while you work,
Mr Great Artist?

-Not really.
-What a nerve!

It's not the clothes.

If you move too much, I can't draw.

I'll stay like this then?

-No.
-What?

It's the bra...

I don't know how to draw one.

We could take it off...

Why should I do that?

Because it took me
a lot of courage to ask

I'm very shy.

At last, a guy with confidence
yet one so small.

I can't tell you where
I'm going with my family.

but I will write love letters.

And you will lose your heart to me.

What will you write me?

Perhaps some Baudelaire.

Perhaps my poems.

You won't know the difference.

-So write then.
-No.

Once the war ends,
I'll come to find you.

I'll be too old!

No, I'll still fancy you.

I doubt it.

I'll seduce women who look like you.

What a pretty little girl!

I'm a boy!

Forgive me, little one.

You have a very pretty mummy.

Not my mother, my model.

I'm a painter.

- What?
- It's Fréhel!

Madame Fréhel?

If I've messed up...

let me buy you
a cordial to apologise.

Only natural.

What do you say...

...Dickhead?

This fellow...

is my model too.

my little model.

Waiter!

Get out the lemonade!

I had a son too, you know.

but with my work...

I couldn't look after him...

I left him with a wretch of a nurse

who let him starve to death.

You mustn't starve to death, sonny.

Do not touch my dogs!
They're dangerous.

I know one of your songs.

All of it? That's wonderful!
Sing it for me.

Is it "La Java Bleue"?

- No.
- Not that one?

All the children sing that one.

Later.

The one I know is "Cocaine"

That's no song for a boy!

But I'm wiser than my years.

The band played

a dashing tango tune

His beauty was spinning
in his arms

And in my hand I took a knife

And I took my bitter revenge

I was sad, I was a fool

Murdered my gigolo

In front of my friends,

In his heart I put my knife

Let me have some coke

To give my brain a poke

Let me have some coke

To give my brain a poke

Your governess is Mademoiselle Lax

You'll get along with her.

What else...? There's a choir.

Practice is every Wednesday evening

with Father Barratier.

He's very kind, you'll see.

This is the country.
It's nice and quiet.

He's done the lot, the tits...

Lucien, can you put more hairs on mine?

I've done loads!

Not on her pussy, under her arms.

I like hairy armpits.

You're a load of hicks!

So are you.

Not bad. You draw quite well.

Could you do me
Paulette Dubost in the nude?

The Germans are coming.

Your ugly mug will give you away.

Take this axe to the woods.

Just say you're the lumberjack's son...

...off gathering branches.

Take it.

Come on, we have to hide.

We'll build a hut like in
"The Last of the Mohicans".

No fires.
Nothing to give us away to the enemy.

Lucien!

What's going on?

You took no food.

We brought you sausage.

You were right to hide.

They checked everywhere for Jews.

So? That doesn't concern me.

- Why hide then?
- I have a date.

It's a secret.

Scram, she'll be here soon.

She?

Yes. When I have a rendezvous,
it's with a chick.

How else did I learn...

...to draw that pussy hair?

Lucien, I am cold
I've been waiting too long.

Sorry. I've kept you waiting.

I have to make you pose outdoors today.

You haven't written much.

No.

But I draw you every day.

Could you take
your clothes off, please?

I'm already naked.

But I feel cold here

Can I curl up with you?

If you want.

Lucien, I feel good.

You want to marry me?

No way, baby.

Kiss me on the mouth with your tongue.

Well, if you insist.

Then you pose.
You're not here to mess about.

Yes.

Tell me a poem, to warm my heart.

"Your eyes where nothing is revealed

Neither bitter nor sweet

"Are two cold jewels
That mingle iron with gold

To see you walking in cadence,
With fine abandon

"One imagines a snake that dances
At the end of a staff

"Beneath the weight of indolence
Your child-like head

"Sways gently with all the sluggishness
Of a baby elephant...

And your body leans and stretches
Like a slender vessel

That pitches from side to side
and dips its yardarms in the sea

Like a torrent swollen by the thaw
of rumbling glaciers

When the water of your mouth rises
To the edge of your teeth

I feel I'm drinking Bohemian wine
Bitter and conquering

A liquid sky that scatters
Stars in my heart!

Well, well...

Baudelaire first thing.

Am I here too early?

The light is best at daybreak.

Get undressed.

What for?

I'm not a model.

Sorry. In that case...

I'll stay dressed for now.

Of course. I'll help you set up.

The light in this spot is perfect
if you're right-handed.

May I?
That's perfect.

Done.

Are you always here so early?

I haven't slept. I play the piano.

Me too.
- Ah!

What do you play?

Bach.

Ah, right...

I play piano bar stuff.

I have no illusions about it.

I only do it to...

pay for my canvases

Where do you play?

I'll come and listen.

No, certainly not.

You can't stop me.

What if I don't tell you where it is?

Ah!

That'll be even more fun.

I'll follow you.

What if I forbid you to?

Even better.

I'll follow you in secret.

I'm not a jukebox!

Who do you take me for?

"Because your eyes are blue

Because your hair defies the sun

with its fiery sheen

Because

you're twenty

Because you bite into life

like into a red apple plucked in joy..."

Pretty. You wrote it?

Aznavour.

"You think everything is allowed...

...even the thoughts in your head

Grieving for a moment
but then ready to start again.

You play with my heart

...like a spoiled child

as if it were a toy
and reducing it to crumbs."

He leaves old masters on the floor.

I know.

But his own works go on the wall.

He can spend all evening
looking for his name in the papers

If he doesn't see Salvador Dali once,

he gets furious.

I do the same.

but I never find my name.

That's tragic.

Absolutely.

I can't really draw you.

I'm easy enough to do.

Yes.

But...

I want to kiss you.

How am I supposed to concentrate?

Well...

How do you think Klimt managed it?

He was always drawing
irresistible girls,

sticking their fingers in various places.

But his work was clear and precise,

with perfect lines.

I don't know.

Even drawing you dressed,
I get excited.

Lucien...

Yes?

I was thinking...

Klimt...

First he screwed them,
then he drew them, right?

I'll finish this later.

Not on...not on Dali's bed...

Not on Dali's bed. I couldn't...

Elisabeth, I can't sleep.

Count animals.

Think of an animal that soothes you.

Perhaps a panda.

Imagine a big panda nibbling its way
through a bamboo grove.

Then it vanishes.

Now think of a second panda
in the bamboo grove.

It looks at you...

Then it vanishes as well.

Now a third panda...

All these pandas are freaking me out.

I hear voices night and day.

they get louder and louder.

and speak more and more...

It's too much to deal with.

It's not me speaking,
it's another voice.

Yeah...

You're possessed.

Some nuns have that too.

A devil inside.

Don't exaggerate.

The devil is your double.

It's someone you can talk to.

All great writers have one.

OK, but how do I get to sleep?

You obey me!

Drop the art crap,
and I'll make you a fortune, pal!

But I love painting.

What are you saying?

She's been asleep for ages.

Who are you?
What are you doing here?

Hey, don't be so stuck up

I'm your ugly mug.

Don't you recognise your ugly mug?

You've grown so much!

You've become hideous.

What do you want from me?

I have some things to suggest to you.

Who are you talking to?

To my mug. It's nothing.

Elisabeth I can't sleep.

So you woke me up.

Worrying about the world?

You wouldn't understand.

I'm possessed by the devil.

Most certainly!

If we make love will you fall asleep?

Hmm

Well, at least I will.

I'm serious...

I think I need an exorcism.

Oh yeah?

Wait...

I'm very good at that.

Show me.

You know Yiddish folklore?

A little. Russian tunes mainly

And jazz.

I'd advise you to be tactful,
not to clown around.

These children are fragile.

They are sick? Nobody told me.

We take in children

whose parents never returned
from the German camps.

They seem petrified at times.

I'm not right for this. Sorry.

Won't you spend a little while
with them?

Just today. To help me out.

Go on...

Go on.

Go on!

I'm Lucien.
Take your instruments.

Let's see what you know.

Over to you!

No, I...

I'm useless at improvising.

Go to your dad's
and play piano then.

I learnt Django's chords
that you wrote for me.

Django can't write.

You think that helps?

At least he looks at his guitar.

Go on. Look at it,

and tell yourself a story.

Plain and simple.

With words?

No, just notes.

A minor chord?

Django can't name notes...

but he knew how to play music.

See you next week?

Concerning the guitar...

go for it!

Work at it night and day

and show him
what you can do next week!

Ready...

What'll you do
to play like Django Reinhardt?

Django uses two fingers!

The rest...

he doesn't need.

The rest...

you can sacrifice.

Look...
With just two fingers.

Shit!

That's how it goes.

You need to make sacrifices.

I told you to drop
the painting and all...

I mean...

Take a look around you.

Seen your wife?

What? I find her attractive.

No.

You used to.

You're a real bastard.

She's a Rubens, she's a hippopodame

With a "D" like in marshmallow

I've got a thing
for this hippopodame

Because with her, I get the bulk rate

What suspense on my hippopodame

With a "D" like in relax

The springs creak
under the hippopodame

But on top of her,
I can get under her skin

She's no small thing
This hippopodame

With a "D"
As in Gigolo

When I am with my hippopodame...

I'm hustling for him

I sell everything to get everything

And if you are a failure

You can say I'm a hot female

All those losers leave me cold

And only Antoine gets me hot

My feelings for him are so deep

Only he has got to the depths of me

Antoine acts tough

But he's never stuck up

I'm his moll, I'm his chick

Antoine is the man for me!

Bravo!

A song by Lucien Ginsburg!

This is fame, pal.

I'm heading straight back to painting.

Cut the crap.

Oh, Boris Vian.

You're lucky.

He's come to hear you.

I told him I'm singing your songs.

I only heard the last song.

It's good. Keep at it.

The Friedland Wooden Leg

There was once a wooden leg...

Out looking for a taker

It told itself,
"If no one wants me,

"I'll shoot myself in the heart."

Out on the battlefield

Amid the volleys of shots

It met this cannonball

Whistling with all its might

It told him, "You look cute.

You're off to kill Cossacks

"Be a dear just for me...

Before launching the attack.

"I don't like the Russkies, see

So help me out

And change sides a second,
Aim for that French officer there.

That stinks!

Shut up!

if gangrene doesn't settle in

I'll be his wooden leg”

Brilliant!

Don't you feel...

I lack a little...

What?

Stage presence.

Ah, yes, yes.

It's clear it pisses you off.

Yes.

Can you dance?

I never dance.

In addition I have an ugly mug.

No.

No.

It's not so bad.

You want to be run over?

No, just awaiting a taxi.

Somebody has to stop.

May I wait with you?
Of course.

The street belongs to everyone.

I have a double that follow me.

I believe you.

You have one too?

Mine's a werewolf.

I am nothing without him.

Ah.

Do all the singers have one?

Yes. And the poets...

-What do you think you're doing?
-Waiting for a taxi.

Perhaps you can give us a lift?

I'm putting up the Fréres Jacques.

I love them!

Look.

They're all here...

Grumpy.

Dopey...

Doc...

And?

Sleepy!

I drink

Systematically

To forget my wife's male friends

I drink, systematically

To forget the worries life sends

I drink way too much

I see pink elephants

Spiders on my tuxedo front

Bats on the ceiling

of my living room

I drink

whenever I have the time

To be drunk enough
to forget my ugly mug

I drink without enjoying it

To avoid thinking I should end it all

- Love...
- I drink...

Means nothing

anymore

- I drink
- The pink elephants

The spiders on my tuxedo

Systematically

The bats on the ceiling

The worries life sends

-I drink
-I drink

I drink...

I drink

Coffee! Some bread, sir?

What time is it?

The right time, sir.
Breakfast for the pianist!

Incredible...

We're all-round athletes

whose biceps serve the cause
of popular songs!

I thought you only did choreography
on stage.

Are you joking? The job requires
total sincerity,

as you'll learn.

My girl won't believe

the Fréres Jacques buttered my bread.

The audience has to believe it.

You don't know her, she's a hellcat.

Time for me to go.
Thanks for the show.

Don't go!

Sir hasn't paid!

- The rascal!
- I'm broke.

Never mind.
Sing us something instead.

Very well. A quick one.

I punch tickets on the metro line

The guy you pass but never see

There's no sun underground
The ride's a weird one

To pass time, I bring
Pages from Reader's Digest

Not bad!

Continue.

This is where they write,

About guys leading sweet
lifes in Miami

While l arse around,
Deep down in a cellar

There is no worse job
than punching tickets in a cave.

And then?

I have to go.
My girl will be mad.

Get lost then!

But leave us your song,

Mr...? Mr....What?

Lucien. Lucien Ginsburg.

Lucien sounds
like a hairdresser's boy.

You need to change that name.

I punch tickets on the metro line

North and south, east and west

I'm sick to death
Of life in this pit

I want to get some air
Leave my cap hanging there

A day will come I know
When away from here I'll go

That' day I'll hit the road
However heavy my load

And if it comes too late
I'll give up the wait

Punching holes, then more holes

Holes and holes
Holes day in, day out

It's enough to drive you mad

Get a gun, do something bad

And make a hole
One last tiny hole

A tiny hole
One last tiny hole

Then one big hole
And no more holes

No more talk of holes
Of tiny little holes...

Thank you, you apathetic lot.

The first Gainsbourg concerto,

with words and music
by

...Serge Gainsbourg!

Did you write it?

Absolutely.

That's lucky. I'm a singer.

-Serge, let's go.
-Yes.

If you want a song...

write to me at my parents'.
Rue Chaptal, Paris 9.

I punch tickets on the metro line

Heads of state
Don't even know my face

My son is a star

A star

But week in, week out
He comes to see his Mum and Dad...

Lucien, I always said
popular songs are shit.

Yes, Dad.

But I'm proud anyway.

I have lots more letters for you.

Show me.

It's none of my business...

but some have fancy writing on them.

I don't think it's government mail.

Your girl will be furious with me.

She hates you already.

And your mother?

What do I say if she finds
your love letters?

Mum just wants me to dump her

But leaving and cheating
aren't the same.

May I read them?

You can open all these.

I'll open this one later.

Why?

Why? Secrets from your dad now?
- No secrets.

It's work, that's all.

So why hide it?

- Don't insist.
- It's human nature to insist.

The Lord God gave Adam and Eve
the whole Garden of Eden,

with one tree off limits.

And that was the one tree
that interested them..

Yes, Dad, I know,

but the Lord's telling you
to give me a break!

Mum! Hide everything!

What a useless family!

Lucien is here and no one told me.

I just got here.

Staying for dinner?

No.

Want some borscht?

No thanks, Mum. Your bottles...

They leak and I get it everywhere.

Here.

I don't know why I bother.

Your woman will throw it out.

- Don't say that.
- I know.

Lucien...

Who's this girl writing to you?

You think I'll tell you?

It's just my work.
Right, Dad?

Is she a singer?

I'm not saying.

Is she famous?

You won't know.

It's Juliette Gréco.

Who's Juliette Gréco?

Don't go to see her.

Stop exaggerating things...

Exaggerating?

How many women drive their men
to Gréco's at night?

Men who can't drive...

Next time we'll take a taxi.

What are you waiting for?

I have to get my courage.

Go!

- Come on!
- Shit! Just go!

Is this clear enough?

Cut it out. I'm on your side.

If you want to seduce Gréco,
go with the flow.

But....

I'm here to sell songs,
not to seduce her.

You think she sent for you
this late at night

just to hear you sing?

Stop touching me, OK?

Mr Gainsbourg?

My mistress said you
can wait in the lounge.

Drink what you like.

I have the evening off.

Shit!

Doing the housework?

I have staff for that.

This is glass, mind
your bare feet...

you can get hurt.

The only hurt one here is you.

You like this painting?

Eh...no.

I could say that I do...

...just to please you.

A rose. For me?

I like your songs.

And I love you.

See, we do agree on something.

We love each other. We're lucky.

Excuse me, I'm totally hopeless.

You find me funny?

I'll play something.

Because your eyes are blue

Because your hair defies the sun...

I have dark eyes.

If I'd wanted to hear Aznavour,

I wouldn't have sent
for Serge Gainsbourg.

It is called...

..La Javanaise.

I admit I've suffered unlike you,
my love

Before hearing of you, my love

Like it or not

Dancing the Javanaise

We were in love

As long as the song lasted

I like it.

How do you dance the Javanaise?

I don't dance well.

May I?

What do you think
We've seen of love?

Dancing the Javanaise

We were in love

As long as the song lasted

Alas, April returns me
To love in vain

Expecting someone?

It's for you.

Coming, Serge?

I wanted to see

That love in you

Like it or not

Dancing the Javanaise

We were in love

As long as the song lasted

Don't you ever sleep?

Never, honey.

Come here.

I'm not sleeping either.

I hear voices in my head.

You too?

Carry me in your arms.

Come.

Serge, coming?

Serge...

Coming?

Back to Gréco's?

I was a total flop at Gréco's.

Take me to my parents'.

She loves your songs.

My songs are one thing!

My mug is another!

You're mistaken.

I'll drop you at your parents'
and head over to Gréco's.

You go nowhere without me!

L-A -E- T-l- T-l-A

That's music, see.

Fantastic.

You'll sell three copies.

Two to your parents...

and third to you.
Write to Johnny Hallyday.

I'd rather die!

- Sheila then?
- Get off my back!

I don't write for prepubescent girls.

Why are you rereading "Lolita" then?

That's different.
I'm not against leading youth astray.

So do that.

You'd give them what they want.

Just pretend.

Make some poisoned apples.

Maybe...

Turn some 20-year-old...

into an object of scandal and desire.

France Gall?

Ah, no.

I set up a meeting with her father.

No way. I'm not going.
France Gall!

You actually know her father?

So, Mr Gainsbourg,
joining the "Yé-yé" stars?

Take the money where it lies.

Let's not be cynical.
One can be popular and also demanding.

Kids' tastes are strange.

They seem to like everything...

Not always.

Do you smoke?

Even when Dad's not looking?

It's sad, but I always obey my dad.

Did you like my songs?

I think my father does.

That's not an answer.
-It is.

My father has taste.

Everyone likes what he picks.

Don't you feel like pissing him off?

Why?

A teacher at Art School told me,

"if your parents like your work,
it's shit."

Shall I write you a dirty song?

No!

See, you're laughing.

My songs are work.

If my father sees me having fun...

We'll do it in secret.

A story about a girl who loved lollypops.

And?

Gentlemen pay her to suck lollipops.

Is it a kid's song?

Sweetheart!

Come and sing.

You have dreams about love

But one day it's bound to happen

You'll be just another poor kid

Alone and abandoned

You'll end up getting married

Maybe even against your will

And on your wedding night

It'll be too late for regrets

Sing and dance, Baby Pop

As if tomorrow, Baby Pop

Shouldn't ever, Baby Pop

Ever come again

Sing and dance, Baby Pop

As if tomorrow, Baby Pop

As the new day dawns, Baby Pop

You were due to die...

Brilliant! It'll be a huge hit!

Just you wait, Mr Gainsbourg.
My girl will make you rich.

The threat of war

Is clearer by the day...

At that moment, Baby, you know

As the suns are about to rise

Somewhere on this earth

Bullets whistle, blood is shed

Sing and dance, Baby Pop

As if tomorrow, Baby Pop

Shouldn't ever, Baby Pop

Ever come again

Sing and dance, Baby Pop

As if tomorrow, Baby Pop

As the new day dawns, Baby Pop

You were due to die...

Stop the music.

I have a bank statement to read.

Have I sold my soul to the devil?

It has an upside

35 million Francs!

And that's just for
"Poupée de Cire, Poupée de Son".

Happy now?

On to the next singer?

Who is in?

Who is out?

Up to 9, it's OK, you're in

This one didn't even know how to kiss.

I had to teach her...

that the mouth...

...is the main sexual organ.

Her skin is pale...

and her hips seem as
cold as winter...

and her pelvis doesn't move at all.

But that wasn't true for me.

As we grew acquainted
with one another...

...she started to toy with

the clips in her hair.

It is a pity,
in the morning I realised...

that the wine made me go to far with
this little one.

Will she return? Who knows?

What's going on in there?

Pardon me?

This is an artists' residence,
not a cat-house!

No one can sleep...

...or practice their music!

But I'm working.

Sure!

We hear more groans
than music from your room.

Been listening at the door?

I moved here for peace.

The thing is, life is chance
working against destiny.

What?

Serge?

Look after my dog, Mister.

My prince...

Excuse us...

You've read the story of Jesse James

How he lived, how he died...

You're asking for more

So now listen to the story of...

Bonnie and Clyde

Hold on.

What's wrong?

It's fine, but let's switch.
I start and you finish, OK?

Now Clyde has a girlfriend

She's pretty. Her name's...

Bonnie

Together, they make up the...

Barrow Gang

- Their names...
- Bonnie Parker and James Barrow

No, Clyde, not James.

Bonnie Parker
and Clyde Barrow

I don't sing well.

- You do.
- I don't.

I can manage other people's songs.

But you intimidate me.

Serves you right.

Watch it!

First time I saw you, I was terrified.

You're kidding!

You came onto me right away.

No, I'm not talking about this year.

I'm talking about ten years ago.

I was a pianist in
one your films.

You were a huge star already.

I bet you don't even remember.

I do. It was on "Vouez-vous
Danser Avec Moi?"

Ah.

See, I do remember.

And you scared me.

What then?
I scare you or I intimidate you?

I could tell it was easy to hurt you.

- That's what scares you?
- Yes.

I don't want to disappoint you...

or hurt you.

And I just can't sing for you.

Me neither.

I hear my voice and I hate it.

Cancel. I'm busy.

- Brigitte, you'll be back soon?
- Of course!

Hello?

Just say I can't. Not today.

What a drag.

I shouldn't have given them
your number at work.

Get off.

Hello?

Yes, Serge is here.

Yes, I'm very fond of him.

Yes, I love him very much.

Can you put her on
so I can tell her?

All right.

You want to speak to Serge?

Here he is.

It's your father.

He wants you.

Hello, Dad?

Your mum won't believe that's Bardot.

Love you.

Me neither, Dad.

What's wrong?

Are you ashamed of us?

We'll talk later.

Someone was laughing a lot.

Brigitte Bardot, Bardot...

Let's celebrate at the Rasputin.

Why? You haven't seduced a star.

You're my star, my love

my sun,
and my Brigitte Bardot.

Oh my love.

Go to the piano and write me
the most beautiful love song.

Say "Oh, my love" again.

My love...

Say, "Oh, my love."

Louder.

I'll keep you awake.

I don't care.

Are there any croissants?

No, but I have three songs.

One's about motorcycles.

I hate motorbikes.

Pity. Thigh boots suit you.

In that case...

What about the love song?

I don't know...

You like "Barbarella"?

I have a comic-strip character...

Is that how you see me?

Come, little girl, into my comic strip

Come make speech-balloons,
come say...

I deal out swings and uppercuts

Make..

Then some "BOOM!", or "HUMPH"
and even a "SHERBAM!"

Let's storm the buildings...

make "WHIM!" while we are flying,
then "KLLIIING!"

Don't be scared, baby, hold on tight

I'm here...

To protect you

Close your eyes

Kiss me...

And the last song?

Tell me you're mine

I feel good with you.

It's my first ever love song.

- Want to hear?
- Yes...

We'll need to record it in secret.

Is it indecent?

Stay there.

Bardot's here, talking to Lucien.

Why here?

Why here?

The press is at his place. It's bad.

Lucien wrote her a song that made
her husband furious

He won't let her sing it

Why did he pick a married woman?

Shut up!

Hello.

Hello, sir.

Hello, Madam.

- Sorry to bother you.
- Not at all...

ls something wrong?
A glass of water?

- I have to go.
- No.

- Eat something.
- Yes!

No, thank you.

Was it a pretty song?

It's the most ultimate
declaration of love ever written!

Ah!

- Lucien, what do you think?
- About what?

- The house?
- I'll take it.

On your own?

I have loads of pals.

Didn't Gréco live on Rue de Verneuil?

Yes, it's a good spot.

Spend New Year with us,
not among these boxes.

I'm throwing a party here with friends.

With friends, that's good.

Oh, my love...

I'm not interested in this girl.

You promised me Marisa Berenson.
Instead, I get this...

She's wonderful!
She has a cute accent!

After an affair with Bardot,

who cares about some English girl?

Give Bardot a rest,
I have a film to shoot.

Go back there and...

All right, if it's for the film,

I'll grant her...

...my polite attention.

I didn't know dinner was over.

I think you were pissed off with me.

That's no reason to dump me like a...

A kid?

Insipid, idiotic and impolite...

Is that how you see me?

Not at all...

Miss Bourguignon is very tired.

Is that what I called you?

Do you even know what it means?

Bourguignon, it's a roast dinner.

I know you don't know my real name.

I know you don't want to
make a film with me.

If the producer hadn't trapped us
here together,

you'd never have wanted to see me.

So that's that.
-No, wait.

You know, that's pretty.

You said I had legs like a little girl

and a baby's dress

but now you think that's good?
-No.

You look beautiful when you cry.

You seem so lost.

Talking to someone else?

A jerk of a husband like you!

I've dealt with husbands
who were jerks too.

You have pretty legs.

Your dress is pretty too.
You're very brave...

...to wear it in this cold.

You want me to stop crying
to get some peace.

I saved your life!

I frequent death.

What does that mean?

I am always close to the edge.

My cot was so close to my coffin.

Give the fancy talk a rest!

Don't you understand them?

They are beautiful.

I'm sure you tell them to many girls.

I'm a wounded animal.
I'm not trying to pick you up.

Talk slowly
or I can't understand a word.

I said I'm trying to...

...resist the desire to kiss you.

That's a pity.

Because I really want you to.

Sergio, can I see?

It's no good.

Let me see...

No, it's terrible. I'll drown myself.

Sergio!

Like Ophelia in Millais' painting.

You're beautiful.

You're beautiful!

I'm so happy!

It's a tragedy.
I can't draw anymore.

Sir, could you stop playing
with a firearm....

...when we're on the beach?

It could go off any minute.

I imagine it's loaded?
- Of course.

Do you plan to use it in my presence?

Maybe.

My girl's filming with Delon.

If he touches her, I'll kill them
and then myself. Good idea?

No doubt, sir.

Sure.

What's wrong?

It's the Lincoln, sir.
It's stuck in the sand.

Do something, goddammit!

Serge!

Your car's beautiful!

A Continental Blue Lincoln.

Just like Delon's.

A big car is good.

That way,
we can fit Kate's things in.

You're not filming?

Let's take a drive... No, a walk.

Of course I'm filming.

But there's no one to look after Kate.

Serge, can you take her?
-What?

No, stay with me...

I can't.

It's important. It's Alain Delon!

What are we going to do?

You know...

I used to come here
when I was little.

Before turning on the gas...

She thinks of her canary

Before putting an end
to this life

for good

She takes the cage

And goes out to the balcony

The icy winter wind

Chills her to the core

Making her teeth chatter

Something's not right.

It's good.

Your fragility works beautifully.

Sorry.

I wasn't talking about the song.

I was looking at your clothes.

- They're not good.
- What?

Maybe you could dress
a bit more casually.

Open your shirt...

Grow your hair longer...

Try not shaving...

Have I upset you?

A little Brit teaching me elegance?

Let's get back to the song.

As over...

London night slowly falls

upon the table and a sleeping girl

Scribbled in pencil, you read

The words that say,
"The canary

..is out on the balcony".

Hey, stay in the box!

Don't come out yet!

What's that?

Meet your new honey.

A surprise for you.

Your name's Honey?

What the hell's going on?

I'm sorry?

Didn't you want to be a Pygmalion?

Take a girl and shape her?

You're doing the exact opposite.

Miss England tells you how to dress,

how to wear your hair...

And you obey like a toy poodle.

A poodle that chooses its master.

Get lost, I don't need you anymore.

Get lost.

You're dumping me? Are you crazy?

Far from it.

And never come back!

What did you say?

I like my new mug.

You see.

What's new in London?

Still raining?

Sit down.

Listen to this.

I love you

I love you, yes, I love you

Me neither

Oh, my love

You're the unbroken wave

I go and come

Between your loins

And I hold myself back

in between you.

And then I stop myself.

I love you

I love you, yes, I love you

If we release that...

...we'll end up in prison.

Me as the publisher
and you as the writer.

I'm willing to risk prison,
but not for one song.

So here's what you'll do.

Take your umbrella,
go back to London,

and record another ten songs
like that one.

You have to release that one first.

OK, but it'll be a huge scandal.

Maybe.

It's going to be one hell of a scandal!

Right, kid

I'd like to move on
to more serious things now.

Your big album?

That symphonic project of yours?

I'd like to marry a British lady.

Is she pretty?

Not bad.

Does she look like me?

No, not at all.

Sergio...

You know...

We could have a baby.

You okay there?

Right now.

What's your name?

Melody.

Melody Nelson.

Lucky you could call us.

Who's your doctor?

The American Hospital...

What's that filthy rag?

There's a Hermés rug on my bed.
Go and fetch it.

We don't have time.

It's cream colured.

Bring it quickly.

On the stretcher now.

No, I'm not lying on that.

If I leave lying down,
I won't come back alive.

My job is to get you to hospital
in one piece.

Come on.

OK, but I want I want to walk out
of my home.

Shit, I'm the one paying!

You asshole!

My little chicken...

I scared you, huh?

They said it's benign.

Quit smoking and messing around.

- Does the press know?
- We kept it quiet.

Why get sick if no one can pity me?
Pass me the phone.

France Soir, please.

Here's a scoop.
Serge Gainsbourg has had a coronary.

He nearly died

He's over it now.
He's working on a hot new album.

Feeling better?

Get me some cigarettes.

No.

Get your mug out of here.

It's time to smoke the pipe of peace.

Let's split.

Come on, pack. Let's go!

No way.

Photographers are coming tomorrow.

Why didn't you say?

I don't want to miss that either.

The martyrdom of Saint Sebastian!

Flashguns instead of arrows...

You had a close call.
How will you get over it?

I plan to step up my intake...

of alcohol...

...and cigarettes.

Monseigneur, the solar star

Since I don't admire him a lot

Turns his light off me
But I care not

My rendezvous is with you

The light that I prefer

Is that of your jealous eyes

Nothing else matters to me

My rendezvous is with you

Monsieur, my landlord

Since I wreck everything

Has thrown me out
But I care not

My rendezvous is with you

My rendezvous is with you

My rendezvous is with you

Serge...

we're running late.

Do your blubbering on stage.

Want to get yourself run over?

I'm waiting for a taxi!

Hi, guys.

Why are you lying there?

I'm on stage in 30 minutes.

I don't know how to get there.

I sold my Rolls.
I only have the radiator cap left.

Give me a police badge.

Don't touch me!

Use the siren!

Cover your flaxen curls, guys

Slick them back with gel and grease

Let's dance the...
- Nazi rock.

Let's dance the...

Nazi rock, Nazi...

Let's dance the...

Nazi rock, Nazi...

Lucien.

Even the girls cried less
over the dog.

You didn't cry this much
when your poor father died.

Pull yourself together.

Look at me.

Comb your hair.

You want little Charlotte to see you
in this state?

They're used to seeing me blubber.

Why didn't you ever
get your ears fixed?

Hey, Gainsbarre, he looks like us, huh?
The cabbage.

I'm the cabbage head man.

Half vegetable, half guy.

What did you do?

It was the clear way to go.

What are you doing up?

And you?

Put everything back where it belongs.

Then get to bed. Shit!

Next time, play in your own room.

This is my room here.

Your things are sick and scary!

You're scared of Professor Flipus?

Don't be, he's just paper.

Why is he called Flipus?

He looks like my brother
and he makes me flip.

You don't have a brother.

Before I was born,
my mum had a little boy.

He didn't last long.

But, all my life, I've felt
he was watching me...

from his grave.

He's watching us too.

That's why I don't go to pee at night.

So she pisses on the carpet.

Not true!

It's all right, chicken.

And you...

You're a right little grass, aren't you?

Do you hear anything?

What are you up to?

Professor Flipus is sick.
We're operating.

What's wrong with him?

It's really bad. He's dead.

He's had it.

Let's put an end to his suffering

You're a total asshole...

Calm down, chicken.

Kate, Charlotte...

Come here.

Don't ever speak to me again!

Take it easy, guys...

No, kiddo...

What's their problem?

They wonderwhat you
want them to sing.

It's best not to explain
the sexual songs.

Why? Don't they fuck?

Reggae's a serious thing.

It's sacred music.

Tell them we'll be singing
the French national anthem.

How do I explain that?

Arise you children of our Motherland

O now is here our glorious day

Over us the bloodstained banner

Of tyranny holds sway

To arms, etc.

O do you hear there in our fields

The roar of those fierce fighting men

Who came right here into our midst

To slaughter sons, wives and kin

To arms, etc.

Sacred love of the Fatherland,

Lead, support our avenging arms

Liberty, cherished Liberty,

Fight with thy defenders!

To arms, etc.

We shall follow their way

When our elders are no longer there,

There we shall find their dust

And the trace of their virtues.

To arms, etc.

Bastard!

You spat on our national anthem!

Fucking, Gainsbourg!
You're dead!

La Marseillaise...

Let's go!

My Jamaicans...

this is not their problem.

They come from Kingston.

They were panicked
by the police deployment...

and by the bomb scares!

In every hotel in town!

I'm a rebel!

And "La Marseillaise" is a rebel's song!

I'd like you to sing it with me.

Arise you children...

...of our Motherland

O now is here our glorious day

Over us the bloodstained banner

Of tyranny holds sway

Of tyranny holds sway

O do you hear there in our fields

The roar of those fierce fighting men

Who came right here into our midst

To slaughter sons, wives and kin

To arms, O citizens

Form up in serried ranks

March on!
March on

With their tainted blood.

And drench our fields

Form up in serried ranks

March on!
March on!

And drench our fields

With their tainted blood

"With his parody of La Marseillaise

"Gainsbourg thought he'd have a hit.

"When he looks in the mirror,

"Serge Gainsbourg must dream
of a society with his face.

"A gummy eye, three days of stubble,

a droopy lower lip.

"When I see Serge Gainsbourg appear,

I become an ecologist,

"fighting the pollution
his person and work give off,

"like certain car exhausts.

"The most contentious aspect
of this foul quagmire:

...anti-Semitism.

"The field has its propagators

"and also, unfortunately,

its agitators.

"Serge Gainsbourg stirs up
anti-Semitism.

"All that to keep the royalties
rolling in."

Jane has left me.

Little Charlotte is living
with her mum now.

My mum is in the stars.

And my dad...

ls my dad proud of me?

Hey Gainsbarre! I saw you on
that puppet show on TV!

Jane left because
I screwed up too much.

First I shall with my native tongue...

reveal your thoughts

but already you are

floating in the tides of the seas

Mr Gainsbourg would like
to buy you a drink.

Screw that old jerk.

I think about you like
as I would a target,

divided in four parts,
part beauty...

The old jerk's here to see you,
you cow.

I'm warning you, I'm a total wreck.

You need a daddy?

I want someone to save me.

That's life...

For God's sake!

Stay here!

You leave...

...when I say so.

You match my aesthetic criteria.

Diaphanous beauty,...

...with the despair of a tragic character.

Understand what I mean?

Want to screw me?

Maybe.

But I'm saying it more poetically.

In any case,

...you're so plastered
you won't hurt me much.

Actually...

On a horizontal level,
I've never had any complaints yet.

I'd like it better if
you'll be my daddy.

A manuscript written and signed
by Rouget de I'lsle.

and dated on August 7, 1793
in Choisy Le Roy.

We are auctioning this manuscript
some term as just...

...as an "silly old poem".

We'll open bidding
at 40,000 francs.

- 50 000.
- 53 000.

- 55 000.
- 100 000.

115 000.

- 120 000.
- 125 000.

- 130 000.
- 135 000.

No further bids?

Sold for 135,000 francs.

It's a high price.

I was ready to bankrupt myself.

I wanted a daughter.

Still, you look like your mum.
That's better.

Let's give you your dad's name.

King Serge?

No, Lucien the Second.

Destined to rule France like his dad.

And Navarre too.
Let's not forget Navarre.

The sun is rare

And happiness too

Love goes astray throughout life

The sun is rare

And happiness too

But everything moves in Melody's arms

The walls

Of the labyrinth

Open up to the infinite

The sun is rare

And happiness too

But everything moves in Melody's arms

The walls

Of the labyrinth

Open up to the infinite

"Gainsbourg transcends reality.
I much prefer his lies to his truths."

Sub-titles - Optimum Releasing UK (2010)
Additional Long Cut/Clean-Up - Marc Brown (2020)