All language subtitles for Un lever de rideau (2006)-eng

A CURTAIN RAISER

Based on Un Incompris
by Henry de Montherlant

Thirty minutes late!

In the 8 months I've known her,

she's been at least 45 minutes late
for every rendez-vous.

It's diabolical.

How inelegant, how un-French,

to deplore a woman for her lateness!

What kind of woman arrives on time?

A sexless monster, fit for stoning,

like the hermaphrodites
of antiquity.

Everyone's late in Paris.
No one complains.

I do!

When someone's late,
your next appointment gets delayed!

And the next.

One pest's tardiness
can botch a serious affair.

Such pests are wise
to fear manic timekeeping!

They'd rather leave it to others.

That's what sickens me.

Their lateness states
the world is divided between

those who care
and those who don't!

"Put yourself out for me, but
I won't put myself out for you."

If you were waiting
for the executioner,

his tardiness would upset you more
than the prospect of dying!

I'd sooner be attacked
from the front, or even betrayed.

Bad manners
are the cruellest insult.

Personally, I'm too sure of myself
to crave respect,

especially from my lovers.

The only attentions
I require of them

are indescribable,
even in this bachelor flat.

Thirty years ago
people talked of free love,

but all love is servitude.

Not for me.

Pretentious little fool!

I pretend to be no one but myself.

With such ideas, you'll have
to forego both love and friendship.

What power you give to others,
if their lateness enrages you so!

It's true.
In the end I prefer solitude.

I've an idea.

Abolish for all time

your watches and clocks.

You won't know if people are late.

Better still,
you'll be late yourself.

You'll redress the balance
and fit in!

Sadly, punctuality
is a terrible disease.

I couldn't be imprecise if I tried.

I can't help it.

I could not merrily become a cad.

- A cad for such a little thing?
- Yes, a cad!

It was different in the past.

If an actor was late
for a performance,

it was customary for him
to apologise to the audience.

On bended knee.

Bended knee!

Did you teach Rosette that?

In 8 months,
she's been late 2,177 minutes.

That's 36 hours.
36 wasted hours.

Plus the first 20 minutes

of each meeting,
when I berated her!

Rosette has stolen
36 hours of my life.

Hugo penned Tristesse d'Olympio
in 6 hours.

In the time Rosette has cost me

I could have written 6 such poems!

Have you told her?

No. Last time I said,

"This has gone on for 8 months.
Next time you're late, it's over."

I made no bones about it.

And what was her reply?

She laughed in my face.

Of course. Endure it 8 months,
you'll endure it forever.

She won't laugh if she arrives
past 5.45. I'll stick to my guns.

It'll be like a Greek tragedy!

I'm impervious to your mockery.

I know I'm right.

To be right... in love!

Why can't one be right in love?

Must love always reduce

justice, wisdom and pride
to ridicule?

When love assumes
the face of justice,

wisdom and pride,
it cuts a bad figure.

It dons a carnival mask.

By arriving late,

Rosette occupies your thoughts
all the more.

So what, if I think only ill of her?

Sometimes I enjoy it
when a lover is late.

While waiting,
I imagine he's lost interest.

And realise
how much he means to you?

No, how indifferent
I'd be to losing him.

But I love Rosette.

Therein lies my pain.

Tell me,

does she give reasons
for being late?

How does she explain it?

She has all the good reasons
those with bad ones have.

And the endless details
provided by those who lie.

The time before last, supposedly,
as she left home,

heavy rain broke the glass roof
of the library.

She had to help her family
save books from the flood.

Do you believe the roof broke?
I find it odd.

That's why I believe it.

Anyway, her last excuse

was that lateness
runs in her family.

The family is sacred,
my lips are sealed!

Only 5 minutes left.

If she arrives in 6,
it's over forever.

O, Plutarchian hero!

Your noble debate
will elevate the human race!

Everything is suddenly transformed!

As by a scene change in the theatre!

She's here...

My world is restored to me.

I'm here to read the gas meter.

- I don't have gas.
- I thought...

Damn!

He certainly looked
as if he thought so!

In 2 minutes

I'm getting dressed and we're going.

Or rather,
I'll ask you to wait for her.

If Rosette finds a locked door,
she might not understand.

She may have forgotten
my ultimatum.

She has to learn her lesson.

Lesson?

You're taking yourself
too seriously.

I'll wait for Rosette and explain
your behaviour, but in my own way.

What date should I set
for your next rendez-vous?

There won't be one.

- What's that?
- Water.

- Water?
- The toilet flushing.

- By itself?
- By itself.

Rosette's bound to ring now.
I'll open the door a crack.

It's unbearable!
Complain to the owner.

I did! He says noise
adds gaiety to a flat.

I'm sorry to have to say this,
dear boy,

but all this is unwon'thy
of a great passion.

What are you enacting here?
A drama or a farce?

Nothing more than a curtain raiser.

But it's disconcerting.
The public likes a clear-cut genre.

No! It's the critics
who like clear-cut genres.

They say the author
hesitates between genres,

when in fact it's life
that hesitates between genres.

5.45. It's over.
I'm getting dressed.

If she rings, you know what to do.

Is that your final word?

Do you still doubt it?

How childish!
A man at the mercy of his nerves.

Nerves? You understand nothing.

I'd just advise you

to maintain
some generosity of spirit!

One last time!

- It's you!
- Hello.

Where's Bruno?

I kept him company
while he waited for you.

But it's 5.50.

- He left 5 minutes ago.
- Left?

Didrt he warn you
if you were late again,

he'd be merciless?

I don't remember.

He may have said that.

You should've taken him
at his word.

Don't you know Bruno?

He's a principled young man
from another era.

He went off, without waiting for me?
What a cad!

He did wait 45 minutes!

And lost patience in your company?
He was a cad to you too!

True, that hadrt occurred to me!

And to think we'll be apart
for 3 months!

My mother's changed her mind.

We're going on holiday tomorrow.

Bruno and I won't see each other
for a long time.

My dear girl,
you won't see our friend at all.

He's returning you to your mother.

Your tardiness infuriates him.

And he did give you proper warning.

After all, he is a gentleman.

A gentleman?

You're both crazy!

I brought him some plums!

The plums made me late!

If he has a change of heart,

where can he reach you?

We leave in 2 days. We must pack.
Mother won't let me out.

She watches me like a hawk.

So I see. For here you are.

Your departure changes everything.
All is not lost.

Bruno, did you hear?

Rosette's leaving
in 2 days for 3 months.

Come out of there.

He's in there?

After 45 minutes of lofty verbiage
in the worst possible taste,

he went to dress.
Now he's coming out.

Come on, Bruno!

Come out of there.

He's not coming out.

The cad!

Did you hear?
Rosette called you a cad.

- What do you want?
- Your happiness!

I make a heroic sacrifice
and I'm a cad?

You're so misunderstood!

Let me go!

I'm coming out.

I'm coming out of the bathroom,
but I remain inflexible.

I'm slipping away.

I know you won't back down
in front of me.

But when you two are alone
you'll sort things out.

Goodbye, Rosette.

What's this scene about?

You've gone too far. It's over.

Just because I was late?

Because you're always late.

Verily, what love!

I love you to the extreme,
even at this moment.

But if love means being slighted
by the one you love,

it's not won'th much.

I've always heard the contrary.

That it's easy to bear small things
from the one you love.

I'd tolerate no more from a mistress
than a minister or a housemaid.

It's my way of respecting love.

You talk of being slighted.

Have I slighted you?

I know how sweet you are.

You're a little hand-reared bird.

But maybe unconsciously,
by persisting in being late,

you're trying to force me
to live at your pace.

Trying to bring me to heel,
dominate me.

That's what I cannot forgive.

I'm trying this, I'm trying that!

Isn't there something
you'd like to try?

With a woman you love
and who loves you?

You know very well
the power you have over me!

If you were thoughtful,
you'd refrain from abusing it.

- Take a plum and kiss me.
- I won't take a plum or kiss you!

We've fallen out.

Maybe we have.
But you can still have a plum.

I will have it.

I won't deprive myself of both.

But make no mistake!
This plum commits me to nothing.

I'm so happy to see
you're not too stupid!

I'm so sad to see you losing
your best friend through stupidity.

I didn't know there were 3 of us

in this flat.

Throw it away.

Along with our love,
worm-eaten by your tardiness.

See? You didn't tell me
to eat the worm with the plum.

Forget my lateness!

Now come and kiss me.

Why shouldn't I, since I love you?

It's so good.

Not even dying could be so good.

Let me smell your neck,
your breath, your hair...

After that long wait,
when I thought I'd lost you.

Last night I saw a shooting star.

But I'm so silly,
I couldn't think of a wish to make.

Just before it burned out,
I said your name.

Very quickly, just your first name,

thinking the good Lord
would understand.

Your arms, warm in winter
and cool in summer...

You were always just right.

All our long,
tireless conversations...

Our hearts drawing nearer
and touching like hands.

And then the madness
of that other world...

You, arching back,
full of delicious cries...

Every kindness,

every perfection.

And in 8 months, you never once
asked me to marry you!

And now it all seems far away.

Shrouded, blurred.

I'm gazing at our reflection
in the bottom of a well.

How strange it is,
to make oneself suffer,

to create one's own unappiness.

Having blithely stabbed others,

do we yearn
to feel the blade ourselves?

Is there pleasure
to be gained?

When we press certain wounds,

do we not feel both
pleasure and pain?

What pleasure? What pain?

You talk and talk...

You blather on.

Or perhaps you're joking.

If I stopped talking for a second

I'd feel sadder still.

Sad?

But why?

It's as if you're talking
in a dream.

"O, name too beautiful to speak
except within a dream!"

Name?

What name?

Yours.

Rosette.

Why don't you love me?

You asked me that, coquettishly,

whenever I most proved I loved you.

And now you're asking me seriously.

Kiss me again.

Reassure me!

You're behaving so strangely today.

Poor child.

Whenever my eyes meet yours,
you smile.

Whenever I kiss you, you smile.

Your lips turn as white

as an olive tree swept by the wind.

You won't understand either
till the very end.

Go now, Rosette.

Leave.

Let's not prolong
this misunderstanding.

Go?

Have you forgotten what I said
when you arrived?

You're still thinking about that?

I never stopped.

So you've put on an affectionate act
for an hour,

only to toss me aside
like a cheap slut?

Pierre says sincerity never rings true
in people's ears. He's right.

For the last time, I love you.

Can't you see it in my face?

I love you,
but I suppose I love myself more.

I'll lose my self-respect
if I let you go on slighting me.

So, with head held high,
I'll choose pain

over shame-faced happiness.

Enough of this hypocrisy!

I don't believe a single word,
a single reason you've given me!

You're bored. You want no more
of me. That's your right.

No explanations.

Explanations are indeed useless.

Alas, I am young. How will I live
in a world where my motives

are as obscure to my peers
as they would be to an ox?

Or a horse?

Are you crying?

Don't touch me!

Close the curtains.
I don't want you to see me cry.

I'll cry too, when you've gone.

But go, Rosette.

I can't bear it any longer.

I'm going.

You vaunt your pride.
Don't you think I have mine?

Do you think I'll come back
when you call?

Go.

Have you really thought about this?

Do you know what you're losing?

What I lose with you
I'll gain elsewhere.

If you only knew
how you disgust me!

I understand that.

My reasons obviously escape you.

But I'm swayed by them.
I admire myself tremendously.

You admire yourself tremendously?

No mars ever done what I'm doing!

And all for a few late arrivals.

So?

Adieu.

Adieu, then.

I'm sick of being with a madman!

Oh, Pierre!

I was in the cafe. I couldn't
take my eyes off your door.

I imagined you in each other's arms,
and then out came Rosette in tears.

You're upset, too.

There's still time,
say the word and I'll go after her!

No.

Two souls blissfully collide,

a miracle happens,
then one of them ruins it,

through absurdity and obstinacy.

We know philosophers are fools.
I had to learn along the way

that men of character
are fools, too.

Now you're bound to her
by the wrong you've done her.

She'll prey on your mind eternally.

You'll eternally wonder
if you were right or wrong.

Her tears will eternally
flow within you.

If you return to her,
it will be in shame.

If you don't,
it will be with remorse.

Those are the rewards
of your mock heroics.

What am I saying?

Is there any question
of you not returning to her?

Two days from now, as you awake,
her explanations

will suddenly seem so simple
and plausible

that your trumped-up case
against her will collapse.

You'll find nothing more
to reproach her for.

The grounds for your severity
will be lost to you, like a dream.

And when she comes back,
you'll fall into her arms.

It will end in delicious kisses

apologies given and accepted.

The classic lovers' tiff,

which leads
to passionate reconciliation,

just as losing an object
leads to the joy of finding it.

We begin in the sublime,
and descend into the ridiculous.

So all my courage will be wasted?

Courage is always wasted.

We'll see.