Original subtitles

Third Period "THE LATE 60s"

In the collection "ALL THE BOYS AND GIRLS OF THEIR AGE"

PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG GIRL OF THE LATE 60s IN BRUSSELS

APRIL '68

Bye, dad.

- If I may. - Thanks.

Please...

...excuse...

...my... daughter...

...Michèle...

...She... had...

...the... flu.

Please...

...excuse...

...my daughter Michèle...

...She had to attend a funeral...

...Her grandmother died.

Please...

...excuse my daughter Michèle...

...She had to attend a funeral...

...Her uncle died.

Please excuse my daughter Michèle...

...She had to attend a funeral...

...Her aunt died following her uncle's death.

Please excuse my daughter Michèle...

...Her father died.

She died.

- You don't come anymore, Michèle? - No, Mireille.

- What will you do? - I don't know yet. I might go away.

- Are you coming to Eric's party tonight? - Maybe.

If I'm still here.

What's on your mind? You look annoyed.

I don't like that Mireille.

I shouldn't have told her, Danielle.

Anyway, I was showboating all day.

All by yourself, Michèle?

I saw all those trams heading towards school.

I watched them go by.

It was thrilling not to climb aboard.

It felt like I was doing something exceptional.

But you see, Danielle, that's not true. Not at all true.

Well?

That wasn't it.

We won't come back here.

- Then why kiss him so long? - I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

The more I felt that wasn't it, the more I felt obligated to kiss him.

- What about you? - I didn't give a damn.

And I didn't want to just sit there.

Let's go.

- See you later. - Later.

So you like me?

Yes, rather.

If you like, you can kiss me.

Already?

I wouldn't mind.

- Don't feel obligated. - Not in the least.

Let's give it a try.

- I'm warning you, I won't go further. - Why is that?

That's enough for today. Plus, I don't have time.

- You're very busy? - Terribly.

- I must go pick up my friend at school. - Is she pretty?

What the hell do you care? Sure.

She's very popular. Much more than I am.

Yet I like you.

- That's good, but I wonder... - What?

I think you'd like my friend more.

She has long hair.

And when she likes someone, she lights up. It's amazing.

Let's be quiet now. I want to watch the movie.

I just wanted to tell you that I think you're beautiful.

What are you doing this time of day in a cinema?

Killing time. I don't know Brussels. I'm from Paris.

- Why did you come? - I'm meeting someone.

A girl?

Could we go? I can't breathe.

- So will you tell her about our kiss? - Who?

Oh, the girl... That wouldn't be a bad idea.

- You want to make her suffer? - You've got it.

That's really dumb of you.

I'm aware of that.

That kind of thing is terribly, terribly painful. I know what I'm talking about.

- You've already suffered so much? - Yeah.

Even when I'm happy, I'm in pain.

I think I understand.

I'd be surprised.

What's worse is that I never show it. I'd rather die.

- It must still be noticeable. - I'd be surprised. No one ever reacts.

Anyway, the more I hurt, the more I smile.

I even sing.

- I get eccentric. Skip, jump. - So what?

So everyone says, what love for life, or the like.

Yes, but... When I'm in pain, it's as if something like revenge is triggered.

I can't stop talking. I'm witty. I'm funny.

- But inside, it's not so bright. - Come. I'll buy you a drink.

You know...

When I said, let's kiss, it was also to hurt someone.

And to be able to tell about it.

I was a bit interested, but not really.

If we had gone further, you could have caused more pain.

- That's all you ever think about? - Yes. That's all.

What else do you want to think about?

That's all I think about too these days.

You see, sex is life's great concern.

If that's true, things are even more

hopeless than I thought.

In any case, I prefer it in the dark.

It's perfect at the cinema. They go well together.

I love a sweet taste with alcohol.

Otherwise, I hate alcohol.

Why did you say it was dumb to cause pain?

It's just dumb, that's all. I know it's dumb.

How would you have told about the kiss?

Well... I wouldn't have told about it right away.

At first I'd affect a dreamy, distracted look.

And then?

And then...

...until I'm asked...

"What did you do today?"

And then?

And then...

...I'd have said, "Oh, I went to the cinema. As usual."

OK. And...?

And... I'd have been asked, "What did you see?"

And then?

And then...

I'd have said, "Oh, I don't really remember."

- All detached like that? - Precisely.

And then I'd be told, "That's not possible." So I'd say,

"It's just that the film wasn't very good."

"So I indulged myself a bit with the guy next to me."

I.e. me.

You could have told the same story even had we not met.

Obviously.

But I like it better when it's the truth.

It's a question of feeling. Of pride, too.

Why?

It's a lousy enough thing to do. If it's a lie on top of that...

That's the awful thing.

You can't help but feel proud that someone should want to kiss you.

And you?

How will you tell it?

I'll take another approach.

I'll kiss her passionately.

Then I won't dare look her in the eye.

- What will happen next? - I don't know yet.

It'll be awful.

It wasn't worth the trouble to kiss me.

It was worth the trouble.

And for you?

For me...

I can't really say.

I do like talking to you.

- Have you ever stolen? - Like everybody. Records. Books.

Well, it's my specialty.

Do you have a father?

Yes, but we're still not on good terms.

- Since when? - Since I left.

I was tired of his dough.

Have you also taken a vow of poverty like my brother?

My brother is sick. Sick of everything.

That's normal.

I steal money from my father.

Because he doesn't know how to give it to me. It makes him awkward.

I don't know why. I make him feel awkward.

To be fair,

I don't know how to ask.

Look at these.

- Don't you think they're really super? - You're right.

- Do you want them? - No. I was just saying.

Don't think you're obligated to buy me shoes because of the kiss. It was free.

- Do you want to do it again? - I don't know.

You're so serious. Though I must confess, I do feel close.

- To me? - Yes.

- And to the guy you want to hurt. - Yes, also.

And when sometimes I don't feel close, I worry.

I'd like always to feel very close.

But like many things I want these days, it's impossible. Impossible.

It's enough to drive you crazy.

It came suddenly, this need to feel close.

Before, I didn't even think about it. Before, it wasn't the same.

How do you mean, not the same?

Well, being in pain even when I'm happy, for example.

And wanting something, but I don't know what.

- And now I feel like fighting. - For what?

Well, for everything that's fair. I'm bursting.

Plus sometimes I'm horrid.

- Me too. Often. - That makes me feel better.

My poor dad...

I was really despicable to him the other night.

Do you think it's normal to say I love you while waiting for the man of your life?

Even while waiting? Do you find that normal?

I don't follow.

You speak of your dad who loves you while you wait for the man of your life?

That has nothing to do with my dad.

We're not like that in my family.

My dad is very serious, very proper.

Of course, my dad can't wait for me to meet the man of my life. Well, a husband.

I don't want to get married. I haven't told him. Or he'd never sleep at night.

- You really believe that? - I'm positive.

He starts to sigh sometimes when he looks at me.

Not pointed sighs. They just come out.

Why?

Well... Because I don't want to get all dressed up, for example.

Don't you find it horrible to get dressed up?

It's torture in any case. Especially wearing stockings.

- Yes, it's true. - So you feel the same.

I love it sometimes when people agree with me.

Especially since it's rare.

I told someone that the name embroidered on our school smock is like a stigmata.

Don't you honestly think that's true?

At least, a name is better than a number.

But that's sometimes true of a name as well.

Yet I got looks like I was crazy. But I'm not crazy.

It's quite simply something I feel.

Sometimes what I feel is a bit gloomy.

Like that stigmata business. I know it's gloomy.

- There's no point in saying everything you feel to everyone. - Why not?

I write down everything I feel in a notebook.

There at least, I have some peace. No one says anything.

- Do you want to be a writer? - Maybe.

If so, a great one.

- Anyway, I don't go to school anymore. - Since when?

Less and less the past three months.

But today, I decided it was over.

- I even threw away my report card. - That must feel weird.

Come on.

I do like books about incommunicability.

I don't.

Really!?

That's weird.

Do you know this line?

Listen:

"It is a terrible thing... should the consciousness... of a man...

"be subjected from childhood to a pressure...

"which all the resilience of the soul...

"all the energy of freedom cannot cancel."

It's beautiful. But the next part is even better:

"Sor...

"Sorrow in life...

"can certainly exert..."

Wait. So...

"Sorrow in life can certainly exert pressure...

"and warp consciousness.

"One who from a young age...

"is subjected to such pressure...

"is as a child plucked with forceps from a mother's womb...

"who keeps a permanent memory...

"of the mother's pain."

- That's terrible, isn't it? - Yes. It's depressing.

But in a very beautiful way.

I like it.

It's by Kierkegaard.

I read it in one of my brother's books.

He was the one who inspired Sartre.

I'm in complete agreement with this Kierkegaard guy.

I'm going to a party tonight with my best friend.

- Want to come? - No. That stuff bores me.

It's not boring. It's awesome.

- I don't like having to have fun. - You don't have to have fun.

You just have to look like it. No need to have actual fun.

So what goes on?

On a good night, you get kissed nonstop, even if you don't feel like it.

That's how it goes.

- But you do sometimes feel like it? - Sure. That's the point of going.

- The only point? - Almost. To dance also.

I do like to dance. I dance like a madwoman.

It's the whole mixture. Kissing, dancing, it all goes together.

- Come, you'll see. - No, I won't go.

- We can meet up afterwards. - We'll see.

- In any case, I'll wait for you. - No, don't. Find someone else.

I don't want to get home too late.

- Afraid you'll get scolded? - No.

- But the last time is too recent. - What happened?

Well, I got home at 6 in the morning. All the lights were on.

He hit me. He gave me a huge slap.

It was the first time in his life.

And then?

He was beside himself, shaking. I even thought he might cry.

- What did he say? - Nothing. That's what's terrible.

He said nothing at all.

The worst was the next morning.

- He went back at it again. - No. You obviously don't know my dad.

He came into my bedroom...

He knocked first.

He'd never enter my bedroom without knocking. He's very proper.

- I know. - How do you know?

- You've already told me. - I see.

Anyway...

He sat at my desk... And he tried to apologize.

- Really? - Really.

I was awful, truly.

I stayed cold as ice.

I cruelly wanted him to feel how beastly he had been,

and that it would take more than an apology for him to get his way.

So he meekly left my bedroom.

That really hurt.

I really wanted to have a good cry.

So you see, if I get home late again...

What time...? It's 4:00? Goodbye.

- Where...? - To school.

Wait. I'll be back.

You're all out of breath.

- I thought I was late. - You know that I finish late on Friday.

- What's on for tonight? Are we going? - Sure. You never know.

- You look weird. - No, I'm fine.

- Let's meet at 8:00 at the tram stop. - OK.

But... you look weird. What's the matter?

Nothing.

Are you going home now?

Yes. You?

I'm not.

If I go home, I won't come back out.

- I don't want you to go home. - Neither do I.

What movie did you see?

I don't remember.

- Later. - OK.

- So? Did you see her? - Who?

- My friend. - No. I just saw you running.

What's that look on your face?

I don't feel like talking.

I don't feel like walking.

I don't feel like sitting.

So what to do?

Have you ever wanted to die?

It's no fun.

I feel like going home.

On second thought, I don't.

Damn it.

What?

- Is it your famous pain? - It's none of your business.

Then that's what it is. Come on.

You forgot your schoolbag.

I don't care.

Want me to go get it?

- Spaghetti in tomato sauce. - For me too.

You have short hair.

It's funny.

My name is Paul. I'm a deserter. That's why the short hair.

Did they shave it all off?

My name is Michèle.

How did you do it? What about your date?

I don't have one. This is the first time I set foot in Brussels.

Do you find it's a good town for deserters?

Why did you tell me all that garbage about your date?

It just came out. I've gotten so used to lying in the army...

How's that?

I wanted to come off crazy. So every night I would piss my bed.

And I'd scream as if I had horrible nightmares.

And for whole nights, I wouldn't say anything to anyone.

And I'd stare at people with my eyes bulged out.

- Crazy people are like that? - I don't know. I suppose.

That makes me feel better.

Why?

I'm nothing like that.

And then? What happened?

They didn't believe me. I couldn't take it anymore. I was going really crazy.

One day I went on leave.

They're still waiting for me.

- And if they catch you? - I go to jail.

That's really lousy.

I'd rather die.

How will you manage here? Where will you sleep?

I don't know why, but it feels like you're in a real mess.

Up to my neck.

They almost broke me.

- They beat you? - That's nothing.

But the head stuff...

Physically, I'm a coward.

If I was tortured, I'd give everyone up.

How do you know?

Last week, I went to an anti-Vietnam demonstration.

I wasn't afraid at first. I was yelling like everyone else: "Ho Chi Minh..."

Then I don't know what happened. It was rather exhilarating. Too much, even.

I felt like crying.

Then everyone started to run. So did I. I was so afraid.

I was afraid I'd lose it too.

They scream nonstop in the army. Wears down your resistance.

Some days, I'd tell myself, "Obey. It would be easier."

I often say that. "Do what you're told. Disappear. Make yourself invisible."

But I can't bloody manage to.

What will you do now?

I have to find a place.

I'll stay there for a while until, I don't know, something happens.

Something?

Don't you feel something is about to happen?

- Things can't stay like this. - No, they gotta blow up. They have to.

It's stifling.

Once things blow, it'll all be different.

- No more need to let people grope you. - Some need!

Nor to get married, or all dressed up.

Nor to join the army.

There'll be no more injustice on earth.

- Nor poor, or rich. - Everyone will be poor. - Or rich.

Yes, rich. That's better for my dad. For my mom, too.

Poverty brings back bad memories for her.

- There'll be no more Nazis. - There are no more. - There still are!

Anyway, my mom is always scared. She daren't walk in the middle of the street.

- She walks where? - Hugging the walls.

She won't anymore.

- But any idea when it'll happen? - Oh, in a few months.

I don't know if I'll be able to wait that long.

- Let's get out of here. - Why?

Can't you see? They've had it before their time.

Do you think we'll turn this grey when we go to work, even in these boom times?

You mustn't say stuff like that. They have done you no harm. - Yes they have.

They're just happy to be going home after work.

You think they look like happy folk?

You can't know what's in their heart.

But it's true. They don't look like happy folk.

You think the way they look means nothing?

Sure it means something. But the army got me used to people looking that.

That's why I didn't notice it right away like you did.

Look at this one.

Things won't blow up.

When people look like this, it can only mean no blow up.

I hate for life to be unfair.

I hate life period.

You're lying.

A little.

No, that's not it.

One minute I feel something. The next minute, the opposite. It's nuts.

- You're on edge again. - Yeah.

You don't have to point it out all the time.

You don't have to constantly point out everything I feel.

You know... I bet that when they get home...

...they'll eat... pork chop, with cauliflower and potatoes.

So what?

That's disgusting, don't you see?

After a long day of work, the pork chop hurts.

- Everything hurts you. - Here you go again.

It's just an expression.

Well... not really in fact.

It's not the same pain as love's, but I'm in pain.

Look over there. Those people aren't running.

They're drinking beer.

Those are rebels. Or they don't even have cauliflower waiting for them.

Possibly.

- What did you eat in the army? - Food of the "hard to tell" variety.

- On the mushy side. - Just like at school.

Now I think I want you to kiss me.

One more?

Well?

Feeling less sad?

You ask too many questions.

You mustn't fall in love with me, I'm warning you.

- That's none of your business. - No, that's true.

Anyway, why shouldn't I?

Love is the most beautiful thing, but it's the worst.

It hurts. It's awful.

I've sometimes spent whole days in bed,

just crying and eating stuff.

Crumbs in bed are so depressing.

I remember some that weren't depressing.

Which?

Croissant crumbs when you're not alone.

- Love isn't always unhappy. - Yes and no. You have crumbs and crumbs.

But when I'm really in love...

- You seem a bit down. - You can say that.

- Let's do something. - What?

I don't know.

- But let's get out of here. - OK.

- So what are we doing? - No idea. You?

- Nothing. It's the wrong time. - For ideas?

- Fresh out of ideas. Mustn't force it. - Never.

- We're agreed. - Always.

- Not always. - No.

Not about Sartre.

Generally when I don't agree with people about Sartre, I stop talking to them.

Don't make me laugh. I need to pee.

Stop, I'm begging you.

I have to go now.

Do it behind a car.

But... but, Miss...

My dad always says, a man is nothing without work.

- My dad too, but he's an old fart. - That's dumb.

- What is? - Saying your dad is an old fart.

Can't you think of something else? It sounds really trite.

I'm sick of you talking about your dad.

What about love? Does your dad talk about love sometimes?

He never talks about love. He's too proper.

He talks about husband and wife sometimes. And about money.

Well... not even that.

It's just that you can see it on his face when he hasn't got it.

What kills me is this living room business.

- What living room? - Ours. No...

It's when he says, and he often does:

"When we have some money, we'll buy ourselves a new living room set."

Sometimes he comes home. And even before saying hello,

sitting down, taking off his coat... before anything else,

he stops at the living room door, and looks at the furniture in despair.

- What kind of furniture do you have? - Green. Velvet.

- Green velvet. Olive green. - With a fringe?

- Exactly. How did you guess. - We have the same.

- It's ugly. - How do you know? You haven't seen it.

That's not the problem. Only, it's nothing worth fretting over so much.

Does your mom fret as well?

She says, "Alex, please don't be silly." And she wrings her hands.

It's hard with the payments, and the furniture is still good for a few years.

I thought it was always moms who wanted new furniture. - What a notion!

For weeks now, they've been going to furniture stores every Saturday.

They come home like ghosts. It's hard.

Why?

Because of the prices. It's always too expensive.

So I go out on Saturday nights. I can't take it.

Sunday mornings,

my dad feels even worse, because I was out and the furniture is still the same.

- That wasn't my dad's problem. - Obviously.

- Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? - You've already asked.

- Can't we talk of something else? - OK, just tell me how you'd do it.

- I'd jump out the window. - For real?

- I don't feel like it right now. - Neither do I.

But I do sometimes.

How would you do it?

Either gas...

...or pills.

- The easy way, get it? - Why wouldn't I?

Where will you sleep tonight?

I don't know... on a bench... in a park... or at the train station.

Like a bum? Won't you be cold?

No big deal. I'll walk around if I'm cold.

Look...

Maybe my cousin will let you sleep at her place.

In the baby's room.

We can go ask her if you like.

You think so?

No answer.

So what do we do?

Wait. I'll call mom.

Hi mom.

Yes, I'm going out tonight.

No, I didn't say anything to dad.

No, I didn't feel like it.

Is Lili not around?

In Italy?

For a week.

You're so quiet now.

Now I don't feel like saying anything.

Do you want to dance?

Sure.

Should we make the bed? It's sad like this.

I have to leave for the party soon.

- I would like you to stay. - I can't.

I'm going to take a shower.

You have a beautiful body.

I want to see you naked.

I want to look at you too.

Then get under the covers.

Touch my chest.

- Have you ever made love? - Almost.

What did you do not almost?

Be naked against the body of a naked boy.

- That's the almost? - What does it feel like?

- It's hard to explain. - That's what everyone says.

Do you ask everyone?

No.

Well, almost.

Relax.

Do you like that?

Yes, I think.

Yes.

You look weird.

Here you go again with your weird look.

- What if we skip it? - But why?

It's always the same.

We'll dance.

You usually love that.

I hate it.

You always said you loved it.

- I was pretending. - What's wrong?

Nothing. What's wrong with you?

- I'm sick of waiting for this tram. - Don't worry. It'll be here.

Yes, but when?

- Another 5 minutes, and I won't go. - Me neither.

- You're going. - If you're not, I'm not.

- No need to sacrifice yourself. - What's wrong? - Nothing.

Here's the tram.

- So we're going? - If you want. - No, if you want.

- Then we're going. - Just to see.

Did you see? There's Claude.

The one you were flirting with last week.

You did too.

Yeah... Did you see?

- He's talking to Mireille. - It's her turn this week.

Why didn't you want to go? Why are you going anyway?

How do I know?

Is it true you hate it?

Absolutely.

And at the same time, I don't.

You feel sad?

No. Never.

I'm never sad. I'm always cheerful.

It's true. You're always cheerful. That's why I like you.

Do you see that guy in the back, with the dark hair? He's not bad.

What do you mean, not bad?

I do like his black hair. It's nice and long too.

You only like long hair because of fashion.

Could you like someone with... short hair?

...disgusting...

- I've been looking all over for you. - What for?

You're having a good time.

You know the guy with black hair? He goes to a Catholic school.

- So what? - They're the worst.

Why? Did he bring up God?

- Oh no. - So?

He pulled tight against me. And I could feel him...

...coming.

- Coming or hard? - Both. That's not very romantic.

They're on such a short leash in those schools.

Try another. The short blond.

You're right. They need more sexual freedom.

The short blond?

- I don't like blonds. They're bland. - Trust me, the blond is very romantic.

He told me he knows Rimbaud by heart.

So that's why he wears a hat. How stupid.

Are you coming?

You know, there's a guy waiting for me.

- Who? - A guy.

You go.

He's waiting for you.

I want to go home. I've had enough.

Me too.

No, you go for me.

Then you'll tell me about it.

No, you won't tell me.

You know I always tell you everything.

Sometimes I'd prefer you didn't tell me everything.

Go. This time it'll be the man of your life. I knew right away.

Why?

Then I'll be at peace.

You won't have to tell me about things.

I won't have to watch your search.

Then I'll be able to live as before once again.

But you're crying.

No, you are.

Look.

He's here.

He's a deserter, you know.

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