Original subtitles

THE REVOLVING DOORS

I, Céleste Beaumont

deserter from a war that did not kill me

am ending my days in New York.

In the shadow of skyscrapers

I try to ease the pain

that brought me to this city.

Every night, I gather up my memories.

Those fragments of my life I can still recall.

The time I have left sifts through my fingers.

And I do nothing to stop its flow.

I had a son.

I speak to him every day through this long letter.

You're not painting?

It's late, Antoine.

Time for bed.

Just let me finish this tape.

My words trail each other in an unbroken line.

Sometimes I think

that if I keep on writing you

my body will be safe from the cold.

No matter how hard I try

I cannot recall your face

or remember how you looked

the day I left you in your grandmother's arms.

My hand is suddenly trembling, Madrigal.

How do I know your name is still Madrigal?

Who's that?

It's late.

Dear Mom...

I don't know what's wrong with Blaudelle.

He's always depressed

and I'm getting worried.

This suitcase came in the mail

full of old papers and stuff.

He spends his time going through it.

All he does is read.

He's even stopped painting.

It's a weird kind of book

all written by hand.

I asked him what it was, but

he couldn't tell me.

All I know is, he's pretty upset.

He was even crying.

I pretend not to notice

but it's starting to bug me.

You know how strange he is,

always afraid we're snooping.

I think it's gotten worse since you moved out.

On the other side I recorded this neat piece

just for you.

"The Dance of the Wooden Clogs".

It's perfect except for ending.

Blaudelle made me hurry.

I practice a lot so II become a great pianist

and you'll be proud of me.

Bye for now, see ya tomorrow. A big kiss.

Your son, Antoine.

I wanted you to know just what happened.

I travel back in time,

and my memories surface again as soon as I start to write.

I was born in 1910 In Val d'Amour

eldest in a family of 12.

I remember those days

as an uninterrupted melody.

Each of us played an instrument.

We handed them down

like old clothes.

Every spring, a new face appeared in the family photo.

My mother always had a baby in her arms.

My only memory of her

is an image of a woman with withered hands

and who never complained.

That's lovely.

When I think back to Val d'Amour and my childhood

it's as if I was still there.

All week we worked in the fields.

We lived for Sundays when

we'd play together for hours, lost in the music.

Mr. Litwin here owns the cinema in Campbell town.

He wants to hire some musicians

who don't charge much, so...

What do you think?

Céleste, he'd like to hear you play alone.

No, something else.

Try that piece you were practicing.

II play a tune I wrote myself.

"You Don't Kill a Piano Player".

- The title is English because... - Never mind! Play!

Pretty, isn't it?

Now that's music!

Sounds fine

but it lacks...

imagination.

Picture a chase

like you see in the movies.

A man's on the railway tracks, a train's coming...

He runs in front of it so he won't be crushed.

I don't get it.

He could just jump off the tracks.

Couldn't he?

These me men toes are the record of a long journey.

As I packed that day

I was surprised at

how few possessions I had.

Aside from my piano

and the music mother gave me

my few belongings

hardly filled a suitcase.

For you.

Someone will have to take up the piano.

You still play well.

No, my hands are getting too old.

You'll do as Mr. Litwin tells you.

You're lucky he's taking you on.

It's your big chance.

You were born for the city.

You always dreamed of going.

I'll be lonely.

You'll never be alone.

The theatre will always be full.

It's harder on us, we're losing our pianist.

Who knows when we'll see you again?

Don't forget your music books.

You'll need them.

I can remember leaving the house

clutching my bag like a lifebelt.

My family would receive half my salary

an offer we couldn't refuse, with 11 kids to feed.

I've made a decision.

I'm going to change my name to...

Madrigal.

It's an old kind of poem

and also a musical form, a short piece for several voices.

Madrigal Blaudelle...

Sounds good, huh?

Tell me you like it.

Well? It wouldn't kill you.

What's in that black book?

Is it a secret?

It's really got you down.

What'll you do with the painting?

- I won't sell it, I promise. - You say that...

but you always do.

I don't want to be hung in some stranger's house.

You can give it to Lauda.

You always say she's a lesbian.

Why should you give her a present?

Put your hands on the keyboard.

What for?

You're sketching the piano, not me.

Yes, but you're part of my visual universe!

Universe.

It'll be beautiful.

Weill call it...

"Antoine at the Piano".

Start by painting the universe.

When you need me, II come back.

Painting, Antoine!

Not painting.

Light it behind.

More on the girls.

Okay, that's great.

A bit too strong.

Lower, please.

Terrific.

Let's try it out.

Is it already 11:00?

How are things?

- You cut your hair. - Yeah.

How do you like it?

It was better before.

Come on, I don't have much time.

You know

since your dad and I separated

I've thought about you every day.

We don't see each other much.

I really miss you.

Sometimes I'm afraid I'll lose you

that I won't see you growing up.

I wish you'd come over more often.

You could stay as long as you want.

How about it?

Why don't you ask Blaudelle?

- You know what? - What?

He has a present for you.

For me?

Yeah, a portrait of me...

"Antoine at the Piano".

Are you sure it's for me?

Yeah, he promised.

I bet it'll be lovely.

What if I moved back?

I think about it sometimes.

You two never got along.

You seem happier since you moved out.

He's not easy to live with.

When I grow up, I want to be a lesbian.

Stop telling people I'm a lesbian.

You know it's not true.

I brought you another tape.

I recorded more of my memoirs

and some great piano music.

I have to run.

I mean I really like Blaudelle.

He's such a loner.

He's afraid nobody likes him.

He thinks you left 'cause he's no fun

that unless he changes

I'm going to take off too.

You know?

I know I'd like to see you more often.

Don't forget to listen to my tape.

And think about my invitation.

I first arrived in Campbelltown on a Sunday.

I'd been there so often in my dreams.

This is Main Street.

It's quiet now, but during the week...

Hi, Marcel.

Here we are.

So what do you think?

Come on, I'll show you.

Well?

Like it?

Look.

Your piano.

Like it?

Your room's across the street.

Come on.

Come on!

Here.

This way.

I used to own the general store.

- I sold it. - Oh.

Over here.

Here we are.

Goon.

It's two flights up.

We're nearly there.

It needs work, but you can fix it up.

As Mr. Litwin stood watching me

I began to realize...

He wasn't interested only in my talents as a musician.

The attic Litwin found for me

was more like a junkyard than a room.

But...

its trunks and boxes held treasures.

From the days of vaudeville.

There were even old costumes.

I'd picture the actors who wore them

and imagine them on stage.

It was as if I was one of them.

An apple, lady?

That's okay.

Thanks.

Play faster.

You're chasing the bad guys.

Look at the villains. That's it.

Keep going.

You've got the rhythm.

Faster!

That's it!

There's a problem now.

He's in trouble. Put yourself in his shoes.

Show me how he feels.

He's in danger!

Watch it, I want a bang... now!

Too late! Too late!

Easy now.

Some rain.

Softer...

softer...

More rain now.

Watch it, don't stop.

Beautiful, keep going.

Some romance...

That's good...

That's it!

The window!

Beautiful!

Lightning!

What?

Again!

Too late! Keep going.

Put yourself in her place.

You're in love with him.

And he's in love with you.

You're both in love, yeah...

nice and soft.

The villains!

Faster!

Faster! Faster!

Follow the train.

You stopped?

She's cleaning up.

Keep going.

Play!

The audience is supposed to laugh.

Not you. Play.

Play!

Not again!

That's not too bad.

You just need practice.

We'll continue tomorrow.

Same time.

I spent weeks and weeks at it...

long days studying the screen.

The movies began to change my life.

They became a passion.

I made myself gowns like those worn by the stars.

I thought by dressing like them

I'd become one myself.

I knew all about Edna Purviance...

every detail of Louise Brooks' life.

I devoured the screen magazines

and fantasized about the lives of the stars.

My head spun.

It was as If, every night

I was carried off to Hollywood.

- What time is it? - 9:00.

I gotta go.

Will you be around later?

Yeah, I'll be here.

I don't like it here alone.

I've got too much imagination.

At night, all these images flood over me

like in the movies.

I invent stories.

Do you think I have imagination?

It's like I was being carried off.

I see so many things.

My mind starts spinning

and I can't stop it.

Try sleeping at night.

Of course, back then

movies were better.

Actors didn't spend their time talking like they do now.

There was action.

They were called motion pictures.

You know why they were called that?

Because they moved.

Where did you live?

In Vienna

the cradle of music.

So you traveled a lot too.

Did you ever hear a piece called

"You Don't Kill a Piano Player"?

That?

I don't know, I've never heard it.

As I recall

it was popular after the war.

We danced to it in the Ratskeller.

Do you mind if I tape it?

Tape it? On that?

I'd like

my mom to hear it.

We'll try... for your mother.

Ready?

Blaudelle?

Dear Madam

I received your package dated June 25.

I have read most of it

and so has my son Antoine.

You scared me.

Where were you? I was waiting.

Out.

I went shopping. The fridge was empty.

What's that?

A song.

Gunther showed me.

Gunther?

Let's hear.

- I like it. - You do?

Listen.

Your mom played this.

Can we visit her?

Why?

You never had a mother, and suddenly you do.

I'm sure it'd make her happy.

When Lauda calls me, I go.

Even when she's old

I'll still go to see her.

Your mom

must be pretty old.

- Look at that dress! - It's stunning!

She's gorgeous.

Céleste, wait.

May I go in with you? To get a better seat.

You Blaudelles! You could buy the place

but still you try to get in free.

He's with me.

The movie's a hit.

We'll have an extra screening Sunday.

It'll cost you 50 cents.

You're paid by the week.

It's not a weekday.

$1.50 a week's not that bad.

My gown costs a fortune.

You don't have to dress like a star.

It draws people.

They think I'm from Hollywood.

Puts 'em in the mood.

They know where you're from.

Who do you think you are?

You read too many screen romances.

It's gone to your head.

It's your choice.

Either I get 50 cents for Sunday

or I don't play today.

Alright...

let's get going.

What a gorgeous dress!

I could make that.

Greta Garbo wears it in "The Flesh and the Devil".

Aren't we showing that next month?

My public's calling.

50 cents.

Did you want to say something?

I wanted to ask you.

Would you care to go for a picnic by the river Sunday?

Sunday?

I'm very busy Sunday.

But, maybe.

Congratulations.

That was lovely.

I live on dreams, Pierre.

Four times every day I lose myself.

And the music that I play

takes me to

the perfect world of fantasy.

Anything that isn't the way I dream it just vanishes.

Val d'Amour and New York become the same.

Every night

I invite people to share the mysteries of movies.

A movie can't talk

someone has to explain it.

You don't like much either.

Well...

Anew movie arrived.

I'm seeing it next week.

You can come with me.

Pierre was fascinated by the role I played.

He hoped that by staying by me

docile and silent,

he too would lose himself in the screen.

As I opened up my secret world to him

he gazed so deeply in my eyes.

I felt I was leading him over the edge.

So you're not alone.

I can bring who I want.

This is a very special movie.

Open your eyes wide.

You don't need to play

just sit back and watch.

What's the movie?

Just hold on

it's coming.

What's going on?

The singer's backstage.

Don't be silly.

Is he backstage?

Take a look if you want.

Backstage!

It's a talkie...

I didn't think they'd get here so soon.

Well, Céleste?

Great.

- Your talkie's a fraud. - What do you mean?

He's no negro.

He's a white painted black.

It's obvious.

I'm sure it'll never catch on.

What can I do? That's progress.

I love you.

Will you marry me?

I'm meeting her at the theatre.

We'll have dinner

then go to the concert.

Lauda said I can sit in the lighting booth.

As long as I don't bother her.

She's so funny... thinks I'm still a kid.

I'm off.

Do you mind my sleeping over?

To marry me

to obtain his family's consent

Pierre proclaimed me a great pianist.

His parents gave me a piano as a wedding present.

On Sundays Mr. and Mrs. Blaudelle

took tea while I entertained them.

- That's as charming as ever. - Thank you.

It's pretty.

You never play classical music?

I'm sure you'd make a fine concert pianist.

You're a bright girl.

A pity you only play that sort of music.

She's not entirely wrong, you know.

Pierre?

Uh... yes.

You mustn't feel threatened when we discuss classical music.

Like Chopin...

Chaplin?

No, Chopin.

You know, music like...

How shall I say?

You never heard of Chopin?

Yes, well...

Simone is president of the Charity League.

She's organizing a benefit gala and concert...

for the needy.

You're well-known so I thought we might prepare a program...

a little Chopin, Mozart

some Bach, perhaps.

- I don't know that music. - Goon...

With your talent I'm sure you'll manage.

A few etudes by Chopin...

would be perfect.

People will understand.

Real music...

Chopin is lovely.

That's not it.

- Madam isn't well? - I don't know.

She's been like that all day.

I'd become an employee of Blaudelle Enterprises.

Against Litwin I could defend myself

but against the Blaudelles I was helpless.

They'd gagged me with a silk handkerchief.

I would like to thank

the Campbell town Public Charity League

as well as the many volunteers who helped

to organize this concert.

Selections from Chopin's repertoire

will be interpreted by an artist well known to our region...

Madame Céleste Blaudelle.

I give you Mme. Blaudelle

and wish you a pleasant evening.

My dear...

I can't see a thing.

Sit up straight.

Is that all?

That's not Chopin!

You've probably never been told about me.

The Blaudelle's will have spared you the shame.

Still...

when I think back

it's surprising how docile I was.

I'm off to work.

I found a name for the baby.

Madrigal.

Yes.

It's an old kind of poem

and also a musical form

a short piece for several voices.

Madrigal Blaudelle... nice, huh?

Tell me you like it.

It wouldn't kill you.

It's...

its nice.

II be late.

So you've chosen the name Madrigal?

Is it a boy's or a girl's name?

A boy's.

A boy's?

It's going to be a boy?

You hope he'll be a musician?

In my family we all played.

I'll see he's a painter.

A child who draws, my dear

is a quiet child.

You know how bad things look in Europe?

Yes.

We must all make sacrifices.

Yes.

In whatever way we can.

Pierre?

You understand, my dear

how proud we are our son has enlisted.

And so we...

we've decided to do our share too.

Yes.

To make our own contribution.

You see...

we thought that once the baby is born

you could both move

to the base at Petawawa.

While Pierre is training

we will look after the baby here, in Campbell town.

And raise it properly.

When Pierre ships out

you'll come live with us

until the war's over.

What do you say?

I won't make a decision before the baby's born.

Do you have other colours?

Look, II add some red.

Was that you?

This is how I paint.

Kill these lights when I say.

Alright?

Perfect!

The pianist's good, huh?

Your apartment's nice.

It's small, not like the studio.

I like it.

Blaudelle's place is too big.

It's so big that

I get scared at night.

I hear noises, and I can't sleep.

Why don't you move in?

For a change.

We could ask Blaudelle.

I'm sure he'd agree.

You know I can't.

He can't live alone.

Someone has to look after him

or else he doesn't eat

he doesn't sleep

he lets himself go.

- Come on. - Its true.

Since he got those letters from his mom it's worse.

I don't understand.

Why doesn't he want to see her?

He thinks she abandoned him 'cause she didn't love him.

He was sent to boarding school

so he never really had a family.

Your dad was always a loner.

In Paris, at the Academy

he sat at the back, never spoke.

Sometimes he'd say hello.

I think he liked me because

I didn't stop talking.

He'd listen quietly with his big eyes.

I liked those silences.

I found them

reassuring.

Then we moved here.

You know

when you were born

he started to laugh.

I loved that laugh.

He laughed and laughed.

He'd hug you in his arms hard, hard, hard

I shouted, "He can't breathe!"

He just kept laughing.

And then, I don't know

little by little

he went back to his silences.

He didn't laugh, didn't talk...

he hid behind his paintings.

He put up this wall.

When I could break through

I discovered a man who was shy

fragile

searching desperately for his mother.

There were two of you

both with the same mother.

Him...

who'd stopped talking

and you

who hadn't started.

It was a war of silence.

World War II, as you call it.

You see?

Time to sleep.

Finally, in September of '43

we left for the base.

They'd forced me to join in their war effort

through ruse and intimidation.

My only victory was giving you the name I'd chosen.

I imagined that war raged everywhere.

Except Campbell town.

And that the only way to save you

was to leave you in Simone Blaudelle's arms.

But now

I don't know, not anymore.

My hand is suddenly trembling.

How do I know your name is still Madrigal?

Pierre left for the front in February '44.

He wasn't leaving for war

he was fleeing peace.

He was already a hero when he shipped out...

It was written in his eyes.

Six months later he was dead.

I fled the camp.

I fled the war.

I fled the Blaudelles.

Mom...

I don't know what it is but

I can't sleep anywhere now.

When I'm with you

I miss Blaudelle.

When I'm with him

I miss you.

I just don't understand.

Maybe I'm too young.

The important stuff happens when you're too young.

Just look at Blaudelle.

That's why he's so messed up.

I can't leave him alone.

He couldn't handle it.

I give him a hard time sometimes

but I still think I should go back.

A big Kiss, Antoine.

My grandmother.

She lives in New York. I'm going to visit her.

By yourself?

I'm used to being on my own.

She's young for a grandma.

It's an old photograph.

It's old alright.

Her name's Céleste?

It's me.

Sorry to bother you, but

I was just wondering...

When is Antoine coming home?

I mean, here.

Isn't he with you?

You're sure?

He said he was going to your place.

He's not here.

I'm on my way.

Wow, it's huge!

Sure you'll be alright?

Yeah, it's near here. I can walk.

You're sure now?

Yeah, yeah.

Well, nice meeting you.

Maybe I'll see you again.

Is he here?

Come in.

He can't be far.

- You have no idea where he is? - No.

Maybe we should call the police.

I know him pretty well by now.

He can take care of himself.

Yeah...

sure.

Like some coffee?

Please.

We talked about you...

your mother.

My mother?

He thinks about her a lot...

all the time.

I arrived in New York late at night.

I had one thing on my mind...

to search the city

until I found a piano.

Anywhere, at any price.

I had to find a place

where [ could play my music.

That was the night I met John Devil.

Maybe he went to New York.

He could have.

I came here to die.

Now I'm with another man

but that storm still rages in my head.

We play every night at Foxy's

a jazz club whose days of glory are long past.

We talk

in a language all our own.

We use words, or course

but our inner voice is music.

John Devil tends my wounds.

He lulls me with his magic violin.

We laugh away my sleepless nights.

But we cannot chase the cold.

Translation by Robert Gray (Kinograph) DVD Subtitling: CNST, Montreal