All language subtitles for Populaire AKA Mademoiselle Populaire (2012) 576p

ECHARD & SONS INSURANCE

Above all,
a secretary is discreet.

She is indispensable,
without being pushy.

An employer
must see efficiency right away.

Wearing glasses is essential.

But my eyesight's fine.

So what?

So's mine.

I wear neutral lenses.

Glasses give an air that says serious

and invisible.

Besides that, you're spot-on.

Natural-looking make-up,

understated hairstyle that stays put,
a hint of perfume...

Soap, if you can't afford perfume.

It's what you wear.

And how you wear it.

What's he like?

Not bad at all.

What's your name again, pumpkin?

Rose Pamphyle, with a Y.
From St Fraimbault.

What brings you here,
Rose Pamphyle with a Y?

St Fraimbault's miles away.

I've always worked in my father's shop.
It's the best in the village.

It's important to be the best.

I've done my time in retail.

Opportunities are rare back home,
if you want to be a secretary.

All the girls do.
It's the latest fashion.

A secretary means being modern,

meeting people, going round the world,
working for important men...

Work for me
and you'll go round Lisieux.

That's nice for a start.

Reality isn't a magazine.
Bosses don't go on great adventures.

Nor do their secretaries.

Have a safe trip home.

I need this job, Mr ECHARD.

The only thing I'm good at is typing.

Typing's the minimum requirement.

Using 10 fingers isn't illegal.

Well?

How did it go?

People stared at me
like I was an imposter.

I bet no one was prettier than you.

I got the job!

It's only for a week. On trial.

A secretary!

Just imagine!

When do you leave?

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, you get engaged.

Price these up before you go, kid.

Yes, sir.

I won't marry Maurice, Dad.

She rejects
the best catch in the village.

Maurice could make her happy.
I can't.

I just wanted to confirm
I've drawn up your estimate and...

The estimate...

Excuse me.

Mr ECHARD,
I'm not sure I should ask this,

but would you mind
not smoking at work?

Only a law could stop me, pumpkin.

That machine's made for a woman.

Not an elephant.

As I was saying...

I've drawn up your estimate!

Face it, Bob. We have a problem.

The French see problems everywhere.

Up is the way to go.

We didn't rebuild after the war

to make this New York.

People don't like change.

A car bigger than your office.
Time to move, Taylor.

You can't get rid of me
so easily, ECHARD.

My Buick and you
make me a happy man.

I have to wait for Rose.

Your new recruit?

How's she doing?

She only started three days ago.

Now, that one

got the job
for more than her professional skills.

Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday to you!

We surprise you every year

and every year it works.

Joe, Simone, come here!

You were just perfect!

No encouragement
from the judges for me?

Marie, I've been telling you you're perfect
ever since primary school.

Wait!

Make a wish.

I have all I could wish for.

Tell us the story again
of you and Mum

and how you met.

You know it by heart.

When I came from America
to liberate France...

With thousands of other soldiers.

First, the marines

stormed the beaches of Normandy.

With our help.

Then I parachuted down

behind enemy lines.

Whose barn did he land on?

Granddad's!

Maybe so.

But it was me
who got to marry your mummy.

The prettiest girl around.

She still is.

ECHARD & Sons Insurance!

That's right.

Mr ECHARD is available every morning.

Thursday at 10?

Yes?

You are Mr...

Constant.

Right.

I've noted that.

Have a good day.

That's a T, not a D, at the end.

I don't know if it's legible.

Mr and Mrs Blaiseau.

This is Miss Pamphyle,

my new secretary.

Please, this way.

No need, this won't take long.

There's no problem, I hope.

No.

We want you to have this.

1949!

I can't possibly.

Silly!
I've known you since you were this high.

You're too young
to have known me that high.

May I show you out?

Cigarette?

Rose...

I've watched you all week.

You don't seem happy.

I bought
a shorthand manual yesterday.

Forget shorthand.

I'll stick to it.
You'll see, I'll be...

Wasting your time.

Not at all.

I've worked out the switchboard.
Almost.

Basically, I don't think

you have a future with me.

Unless...

You agree to do a little something.

Anything.

I got the idea
when I first saw you.

It's not strictly work-related

but I'm sure you'll enjoy it, pumpkin.

And so will I.

Rose!

You got it all wrong.

No, you've got it wrong.

It's not so easy to get me in bed!

Morning!

You're nuts.

As if I'd come on to you!

You and your sharp suits,

you do nothing for me.

It's mutual.

Even better!

This is where I want you,
not in my bed.

REGIONAL SPEED-TYPING CHAMPIONSHIPS

This is all I have to do
to keep my job?

Participate in a contest?

Not participate.

Win.

- Isn't this a friendly match?
- No such thing for an athlete.

An athlete? Where?

I see an insurance man.

You're looking at the coach
of the next Normandy champion

of speed-typing.

ECHARD, when you hire a secretary,

date her, marry her,

don't enter her in competitions.

With no training,
she types a mile a minute.

She has a gift.

Sleep with her.

She needs that more than a medal.

A coach never sleeps with his athlete.
It's counter-productive.

She's not cut out for competition.

Wanna bet?

You're on.

I'll win this time.

Rose is a timid creature.

With some care and attention,
she'll be unbeatable.

Your kindness will be your downfall.

In the first round,

they must type
360 characters a minute.

To win, at that pace,
is like sprinting 5 km.

Typing! I can do that.

Really? Tell that to the jury.

Every inverted letter, wrong word

and spacing mistake
costs you 100 characters.

16 qualify in 10 minutes,
then eight, then four...

Then two in a five-minute final.

You'd never beat these girls.

They're fab!

Let's go, Paulette!

Paulette Martineau!
The speed-typing queen!

Next up, it's the nationals.

What's the world record?

512 keystrokes a minute.

- An American did it.
- Why didn't you say so?

She's a disaster but when she types,

she's fast, strong and focused.

Ladies, please,
may I have your attention?

Everybody ready.

Hands over the keyboards.

358 keystrokes!

Two more and we'd have qualified!

Using 10 fingers,
you'd have made it.

It's not a sport for klutzes.

Stop!

Stop the car. I'll walk.

You should have taken your anger out
on the keyboard. It's too late now.

I could have opened it.

I may be a "klutz,"
but not a cripple!

Never enter her
in a shooting contest.

She'd kill us all.

You stink of tobacco as usual,
Miss Pamphyle.

Are you above the rules

of this establishment?

It's for decent girls!

You take things too hard, pumpkin.

Stop calling me pumpkin.
I have a name like everyone else.

Defeat isn't always a bad thing.

For you.

Tomorrow,
you'll find another protégé.

I'll go back to Nowheresville,

to marry the mechanic's son.

The whole village will make fun of me
for getting fired after a week.

I'm the laughing stock.

Nobody's making you go back
to Nowhere...

St Fraimbault.

It'd be different if I were a man.

I'm no good at anything.

Perhaps your only gift is for typing,

but one gift in this world

is enough.

Enough to look like a dummy.

I want you to compete again.

I want you to leave me alone.

I'll train you, cover all costs

and you'll move in with me.

With you?

Yes.

It would be...

more...

practical.

I get to keep my job?

You're a terrible secretary.

You will do extra training at the office.

You'll open up,

I'll close up.

You'll go to work by bike.

I'll drive in a bit later.

Same thing in the evening.

Nobody must know you live with me.

They'd gossip.

Come on.

Gee whiz!

It's like Gone With The Wind.

- My father built it.
- You have the same taste.

I've never had time to redecorate.

We'll train
evenings and weekends.

You won't ferry it back and forth.

I'll buy another.

Mind you,

it wouldn't hurt
to build up those biceps.

I'll show you your room.

Pay no attention to those old things.

You were a real athlete!

But not a champion.

Maybe not,

but still very sporty.

If you need me, I'm upstairs.

Don't worry, you're safe.
This old house creaks.

You'd hear me coming a mile away.

One book a month till the competition.
12 in all.

Typing literature will teach you

tricky constructions and styles.

You'll learn to anticipate
how a sentence ends.

No need to comprehend it.

It's quite simple.

Fingers match colours
and colours match letters.

Yellow, middle finger, types apostrophe
and letters E, D, C.

Red, right ring finger, types

O, L, colon...

I can read.

I can understand.

Even complicated sentences.

They're easier to pick up
if you fan them out.

Double them up,

for fast removal without tearing.

No need to watch. I'm a big girl.

There's a bus every day
for St Fraimbault.

Mr ECHARD?

Yes, pumpkin?

I shredded
Mrs Morel's accident report

and I think I killed the shredder.

Deal with it. You're a big girl.

Shit!

Are you OK?

I think so.

Does it hurt here?

And when I press here?

Or here?

Why not just insure my fingers?

Let's get you back.

If Flaubert took as long over Bovary,

he'd have died before her.

Demoralising me won't get results.

Too touchy for a champion.

This bottle
is about a painter and a farmer.

Back in 1950,

I was assessing
storm damage at a farm...

Are we training or not?

The farm was badly hit.

A tree had fallen on the henhouse,

making a hole in the roof.

I can't type if you talk.

Learn to concentrate
no matter what's going on.

To fix the hole,

Picard, the farmer,

used an old painting.

I took it down,

wiped it off,

and what did I find?

A Van Gogh.

Picard told me
his grandmother gave it to him.

He'd never heard
of this Van Gogh guy.

His only concern
was if the insurance covered the damage.

I convinced him
to go to an auction house.

Now he's rolling in money
and my cellar's full of this fine 1934.

With all your clients' wine,

it's a miracle you're not an alcoholic.

Nobody said training was over.

With all due respect, you're stupid.

I know.

I should've kept the painting.

You play the tough guy,

when deep down
you're the sweetest person I know.

You barely know anyone.

The latest fashion in Paris.

Goodbye.

Faster!

Next one!

If you want the matching panties,

I'm wearing them.

Not at all, I...

You left it in the machine.

Keep it if you like it.

Thanks,
but I have my own collection.

A collection needs renewing.

Now I see why
I can't find my files at work.

I was just tidying up.

I'd have finished
if it weren't for Madame Bovary.

Who's the prettiest, for you?

I doubt stars
are interested in insurance men.

Just imagine...

I bet you prefer the voluptuous type,

like all men.

The others are too classic,
too goody-goody.

She's more my type.

What was she in?

Nothing.

That's my mother.

She's very beautiful.

I know, I'm nothing like her.
I take after my father.

If he wasn't so stubborn,
we'd be the best of friends.

Men and women weren't made
to get along together.

I can't do it.

My fingers hurt.

My back hurts.

Everything hurts.

You're completely nuts.

You scared me.

A man who cooks. How modern!

Type.

Return.

If you sit straight,

it won't hurt.

You're not supple.

That's your problem.

Not at all.

I'm very supple.
Very, very.

Really?

Yellow, red, green...

Give her piano lessons?

I'm too busy with the house and kids.

Just for a few months.

Let's go.

Stay for lunch.

Bob won't be long.

Rose needs to train.

Nice to meet you, anyway.

A magic trick, kids?

Please, Louis!

Keep your eyes on the knife.

Don't.

Stop it!

I'll stop
only if you promise to teach her.

It's fine if I don't learn piano.

You'll lose a finger!

Promise me.

You traumatised those kids.

You should thank me.

For adding piano lessons
to hours of training?

Thanks a bunch.

In any case,
Mrs Taylor is very beautiful.

Is she your mistress?

She's my best friend's wife.

You grew up with her.

Yes, you're right.

Marie and I had an affair.

We were five years old.

It's the way you looked at her.

Tighten that up
instead of blabbing.

I'll hurt you.

Give it your best shot.

I forgot, you're a man.

You know what it is to suffer.

You were in the war.

Maybe I suffered,
but not as much as others.

Not as much as who?

Haven't you asked enough questions?

Hardy, given your brief replies.

You want my trust,
but it's all one way.

In '43,

I led a group in the Resistance.

Incredible guys
I'd known all my life.

Barthélémy, Pierrot

and Roger, the Blaiseaus' son.

Two weeks before the Liberation,

our camp was attacked.

We were being shot at...

I heard them go down one by one.

The last one I saw was Roger.

I fled.

I kept running for hours

until I realised
nobody was running after me.

I've helped a lot of people in my life,

but I've never saved anyone.

If you keep that up,

the blood will be cut off,
they'll have to amputate.

Serves you right
for showing off to another man's wife.

Load.

Unload.

Faster!

Top score in the qualifying round...

Pamphyle!

Faster!

Top score in the fourth round...
Pamphyle!

Top score in the quarterfinals...
Pamphyle!

Return.

Faster!

Top score in the semifinals...
Pamphyle!

- Faster!
- I can't go faster than the machine.

Faster!

Ladies and gentlemen,

we are proud to present,

with a score of 491 keystrokes a minute,

the new speed-typing champion

of Normandy...

Rose Pamphyle!

Jean, sir!

Rose is in the newspaper!

She's famous!

THE NORMANDY GIRL WITH MAGIC FINGERS

Being famous isn't a job.

435 francs, please.

I always knew you had something.

A real virtuoso!

I'd love to come and support you in Paris.
My husband won't let me.

The National Championship,
how thrilling!

I lost my voice,

screaming your name from the stands.

She hasn't been so excited
since our wedding night.

Quiet, please!
This is a place of work.

For the most beautiful rose of all.

Very subtle.

Thank you.

How about bumper cars tonight?

To celebrate your victory.

Actually, I have training.

She needs more speed and stamina.

She's aware of that.

She's still under the French record.

Perhaps her coach should tell her
her exact scores.

She should trust him.

And you should show her more respect.

She's a champion now.

Good.

Very good.
Louis must be proud of you.

He never compliments me.

He thinks you'll go far.

But he's nervous
about losing face in front of Bob.

I know.
It's a game between the two of them.

You know what men are like.

I hope they're not all the same.

You're a curious creature.

Who's your type of guy?

One who sees me as his equal.

What else?

One who's older than me,
but doesn't pretend to be young.

A man who's driven and demanding,

but not too sure of himself either.

It's kind of cute, the tortured type.

Smoking's fine,
but he should cut down...

Who should?

Nobody.

Nobody in particular.

You've been gone months.
Who'd leave you a message?

My father.

He doesn't have my address and...

If he calls, I'll mention
the kind of life you lead.

You think people don't know
about ECHARD and you?

Where did you go after work?
I got home before you.

You've been acting strange all day.

Stranger than usual.

I'm tired, that's all.

You remembered.

Thank you, Mr ECHARD.

Happy birthday, pumpkin.

That's a pair of lungs!

See? Running's helped you.

I made it myself.

It's very original.

Look.

Go on.

Type something.

I won't see anything. It's bonkers!

On the contrary.

You'll learn to touch type,

a real advantage over your rivals.

You really don't understand women.

You're a spoiled child.

I spent hours on it.

I did it for you!

You made it for Bob, for Marie,

for the whole wide world,
but not for me!

We should do this more often.

I don't feel like talking.

Leave the talking to me.

One day...

It's just that Rose...

She thinks she's being used,

but I'm doing it all for her.

Her talent deserves to be recognised.

She has no idea of her gift.

She's made incredible progress...

Look who it is.

Where've you been hiding, sugar?

ECHARD is back!

Bottoms up!

I'M VERY SORRY

Come in.

We should take a break.

It'll do us both good.

Christmas is coming.
You need time with your family.

Who'll help you decorate the tree?

My parents, brothers and their wives
will take up every room.

I'll sleep on the couch.

Tell them I'm your housekeeper.

I can't go to my father's.

All the more reason.

It's the perfect time to make peace.

Sweet dreams, pumpkin.

I didn't expect to see you!

Your dad's at Maurice's
for Christmas Eve.

I can get you a lift.

I doubt Maurice
will be pleased to see me.

Dad kept it all this time?

He keeps saying
he wishes he never ordered it.

I have to go.
I'm cooking for the whole family.

I'm so happy to see you
and so proud of you.

Can you believe your life?

Everything a modern girl dreams of.

I have everything
a modern girl dreams of, Mum.

It's complicated enough
just being a girl.

Typing fast is my only talent.

I liked it at first.
It kept me from thinking.

I'm less clumsy when I don't think.

It feels good.

But it doesn't last long.

It's not something you can share.

With anybody.

It just makes you even more weird.

People don't really look at me.

For them, I'm too weird to love.

Even for Dad.

Even for Louis.

It's not that hard
to see I'm just like anyone else.

You managed it.

Why did you have to be the only one?

I'm sorry to barge in like this.

I didn't know where else to go.

Not spending Christmas with Louis?

He asked me
to move out for a night.

What a jerk!

He rarely sees his family.

Mr Taylor's right.

I thought about the hostel,
but my bike has a puncture.

I'll never get to Lisieux
in this weather.

Darling, the car keys, please.

Repainting clients' fences.
Why not work for free?

He's running a business,
not a charity.

Grateful clients are important.

Grateful because you do a good job,

not play to the crowd.

We're small but close to people.

People?
People won't respect you for it.

- Expecting visitors, pumpkin?
- No.

Marie!

What a lovely surprise!

- Where's Bob?
- Hello, everybody!

And the kids?

They send their love.
I have to get back.

I just drove the young lady over.

Will you tell them or shall I?

Allow me to introduce Rose Pamphyle,

Louis's fiancée.

And you don't tell us?

Knucklehead!

- This is completely...
- impolite!

- It's his job to pick up his girl.
- Dad.

- He's so shy!
- Mum.

Merry Christmas! I have to run!

- Rose!
- Come in.

Nice to meet you.

Welcome.

You kept that quiet.

How long
have you been seeing each other?

- Not long.
- Almost a year.

It's almost a year
since I joined the firm.

Louis took forever to ask me out.

- Worried he was too old for me.
- I never said that.

I'm ten years younger, pumpkin,

and we've been together 40 years.

If there's love, age doesn't matter.

When's the wedding?

Not just yet.

- I'd rather we take our time.
- That's all you do, take your time.

You'll regret it if the Americans land

and one marries me before you do.

Easy on the wine, honey,
or you'll regret it.

It's the Van Gogh bottle!

To my idiot son's lost fortune!

Georges!

Only he'd miss a godsend like that.
A Van Gogh!

It had to be this nitwit
who took over the firm.

If it was Leonard or Lucien...

Here we go.

Believe me, business would be booming.

It's no surprise they didn't take over.

They know you too well.

Your son's brilliant!

You'd notice
if you stopped running him down.

"- It's important to be the best."

What nonsense!

You've got some nerve!

How beautiful, a woman in love.

Welcome to the family.

Cheers!

Hold on tight, honey.

The first thing I'll do

before our wedding night is redecorate.

I'll get Marie for this.

Calm down.

Was it so bad
being my fiancé for a night?

You're rambling, my girl.

I'm your girl now, am I?

Chic!

I'll take the couch.
We're not married yet.

Louis!

I'll fight like mad to be champion.

Daddy-in-law will eat his hat,
he'll be so proud of you.

I'll bet against her again,
no problem.

The real question is,

do you have the guts?

Double or nothing.

Where is she?

Who?

Your fiancée.

You've nothing to be proud of.

You're an idiot, not bringing her.
I love that girl!

You're not alone.
It took days to calm Mother down.

She's crazy about Rose.

- You're jealous!
- Not at all.

You want to keep her for yourself.
Don't you?

Rose is free.
You make it sound like we're lovers.

You see?

I told you nothing's happened.

You bet on me?

She likes you.

And you like her.

Stop meddling in my life!

If I'd listened to you a year ago,
she'd be back home.

She must focus on the nationals.

I'll put the world at her feet, dammit.

You have so much pride,

you only want a world champion.

Nobody's good enough for you.

Cut out the psychology books.

It's not your thing.

She'll never be French champion,

and she'll wind up an old maid.

Double.

I look horrible.

I can't compete like this.

There are worse, believe me.

Look at me. I'm so shabby.

Go on, doll yourself up.

I can pay my own way.

No later than eight at the hotel.
Don't get lost.

Are you putting it on or stitching it?

I'm coming.

Rose, you look...

Ridiculous, I know.

I mean, you're...

You're not the same person.

I'm the same.

It's the dress that's different.

It won't be practical for typing.

Well...

Time for bed.

See you tomorrow.

You've no right to do that.

I've no right to distract you

before the biggest competition
of your life.

Who says it would be my first time?

It's OK, Louis, this is 1959.

The time's long gone
when girls waited for marriage.

Fine.

That's one less thing
I'll have to teach you.

I can do better.

Miss Leprince-Ringuet,
defending your title

as French champion for the third year,

here at the head office of Japy...

The company's top clients

have been especially invited.

Not too nervous?

Do I look nervous?

Annie's our very best.

My father, Edmond Japy,
has designed a carriage return

with ball bearings for her.

With ball bearings?

You see, gentlemen,

neighbouring type bars
tended to block on older models.

Therefore we began by inventing

the AZERTY keyboard

so that the most common letters
in our language...

In short, with ball bearings

you touch the carriage return and...

If we leave now, nobody will notice.

You're going to stay
and show them what you can do.

Do you think
you can beat your record

of 500 strokes a minute?

A champion doesn't think,

she achieves.

Look at her.
They only have eyes for her

and I'm a ditz from nowhere.

That's your best asset.

You'll take them by surprise.

Not here, pumpkin.

Morning, miss. Your region?

Normandy.

Here she comes!

Annie!

Ladies! Hands over the keyboards!

The qualifiers
for the quarterfinals...

Leprince-Ringuet, way out in the lead,

followed by Layrac,

Corty,

Hubert, Portez,

Meyer, Legendre

and Pamphyle.

The qualifiers
for the semi-finals...

Leprince-Ringuet.

Trailing far behind are Layrac,

Meyer

and Pamphyle.

A moment's silence, please!

Miss Leprince-Ringuet
will compete against...

Miss Pamphyle in the final!

Ladies!

Hands over the keyboards.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we are confronted with a rare event.

Our finalists have tied

with 498 keystrokes a minute!

To determine the winner of the final,

the judges have decided
on five minutes' overtime.

Five minutes. It's make or break.

Give it all you've got!

I can't take any more.

This is what we've worked so hard for.

Isn't getting this far good enough?

- It is for me.
- It's not for me!

You've been soft all day.

Now you're going to let me down?

I lied to you.

500 strokes a minute. Her record.

You've been beating it
for ages in training.

You're mad at me?

That's the idea.

Get revenge.

Go away. I need to recentre.

Yes, darling. Recentre.

Ladies!

Hands over the keyboards.

Here's the man
who beat my two-time champion.

It wasn't me who won.

Edmond Japy. Pleasure to meet you.

Louis ECHARD.

Yes, I know.

Why the long face?
Isn't this a time to celebrate?

When she's world champion.

Sure,
but France has never beaten America.

Are you the man for the job?

I suppose you are?

Not so fast.

If you hadn't made her angry,
she would have lost.

Now that you've lied to her
about her scores,

there's no card left to play
in New York.

In two months, she faces the Yanks.

They make huge sacrifices
for their champions.

I hope the same can be said of you.

I love you.

Where have you been?

The press is asking all about us.

Maybe you'll tell them
how much you appreciate me.

Watch out,
Japy made me an offer.

That's perfect.

You don't think I'd accept, do you?

It's your big chance.
The power to win.

You sound like them.

You'll be a star,
travel, meet people...

I don't care!

Say goodbye
to St Fraimbault and Lisieux.

You don't need me now.

All I want is you.

You belong here.
Accept who you are, dammit!

I love you!

Not me.

You're lying.

Now I know you're capable of it.

Without the championships,
we'd never have ended up in bed.

You're lying.

You needed it to win.

I thought you were better than this.

We all make mistakes
when we're young.

Morning.

The machine in the window,
my girl's crazy for it.

Just think, Dad!

It's the first typewriter
Rose Pamphyle ever touched.

Your daughter's wonderful.

Such an inspiration!

Well?

How much?

You know me, Rose Pamphyle.

Breaking records or typing a letter,

I'm ahead of the crowd!

With the Populaire by Japy.

So light, so modern...

So rosy!

With the Populaire
you're typing on air!

In all good department
and stationery stores.

Rosy for Rose...

What imagination!

Cha Cha Cha

Go the secretaries

All around her, comma,

famous artists mingled,

along with some earnest children,

fervent for poetry

but clearly cut out for candy.

Period.

- Mrs Tessier?
- Miss.

You knew Rose well?

She lived here
when she moved to Lisieux.

A very decent girl.

France wants to know.

How does it feel
to be the fastest?

I think that speed

is a sign of progress.

One day, it'll be a keyboard world.

Everything's faster,
not just in sport.

You really believe
speed-typing is a sport?

THE SECRETARY WHO'S GOING PLACES

Don't be such a sourpuss. Come on.

Get out.

Even I'm getting sick of you, sugar.

How long before you realise
he'll never pick up?

Your smiles may fool all of France,
but not me.

If your Louis can't see through it,

that's his problem.

You don't know him.

Any man who gives you up
is an imbecile.

Sleep well, Miss Pamphyle?

More fan mail. It just keeps coming.

Everybody loves you!

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY. DAD.

It's impossible.
The keyboard's too small!

The keyboard's fine.

It's you who isn't up to the task.

Susan Hunter's record
is 512 keystrokes per minute.

You've never exceeded 508.

You don't realise
who you're up against.

In 10 years,
Hunter's won five world championships,

breaking her own record every time.

I'm sure I've done better than 508,
Mrs Shorofsky.

You're lying.

I never lie.

There's nothing to celebrate.

You haven't seen the sales figures
for the Populaire.

Run along. You've kept her for hours.

Give her a break.

Here.

Go, go, go.

That's right.

What a killjoy!

Do you have to kiss
every speed-typing champion?

Yes, it's sort of a tradition.

And ditching her
after she fails to win,

is that part of the tradition, too?

I knew you were no fool.

I've read a few books.

Don't stop.

There you are.

It's about time.

Bob's been worried to death.

Aren't you sick
of hiding your feelings behind him?

Where have you been?

- Last time you acted like this...
- You'd just left me.

Funny you remember.
You pretend it never happened.

You'd say I do the same.

What's Bob got that I haven't?

You're drunk.

I couldn't be more sober.

What's he got that I haven't?

Answer me.

He gave me a life to share.

Unlike you.

You went away to war without a promise.

You could have married me before.

And made you a widow
as a wedding gift?

You didn't die in combat.

Let yourself live, for God's sake.

Like you, shut up in this house?

I have nothing to prove to myself.

I made choices.

You never had that courage.

Every time you kiss Bob

or hold your children,
you should thank me.

What for?

I was crazy about you.

And you...

You preferred to be

second best.

In Paris, when Rose won,

she stepped onto the podium
with such joy

and a smile so immense...

The same smile you had
the day I saw you with Bob.

I knew I could never make her so happy.

I was smiling because I felt loved.

I'm scared to death.

Everyone's scared, Louis.

Is it really a fair contest, Gaston?

Absolutely.

It takes months to draft

texts that are of equal difficulty

with the same number of characters,

and no mention
of politics or religion,

or anything that might offend
or upset the contestants.

Without a doubt,

Italy is definitely eliminated.

Just look at prodigy Hong Chering.

Britain's flagging.
Will she finish?

Susan Hunter
looks unbeatable this year.

As usual, she's the favourite.

It's France versus the USA in the final!

Stop staring.
You look like Bambi!

Where do you think you're going?

Backstage.

I need to recentre.

If you go anywhere now,
they'll know you're afraid.

Here we go!
Three five-minute rounds

to determine the winner

of the 1959 world championship!

And I thought the French
were only good at cooking.

I'M VERY SORRY

Not bad.

You made it
for the end of the second round.

Go ahead.

Run after your champion.

If I were you, I'd do the same.

But think about it.

How will she react when she sees you?

Fall into your arms?

Or reject you, perhaps.

With good reason, don't you think?

Either way,

it'll break her concentration.

She'll lose.

And then

all those hours of training,

all those sacrifices.

For what?

To destroy
everything you've ever dreamed of?

Astonishing! Pamphyle's run off stage.

You won't get near her,
insurance man.

You can't give up now.

Forget that old machine.

It'll slow you down.

The old machine is just fine.

Most likely,
you took off too fast.

That's your big weakness.

I thought it was yours.

What are they saying?

I've no idea.

I convinced myself
I could only be happy helping people.

I made you believe you needed me,

but from the moment we met,

I knew it was me who needed you.

All that you are makes me happy.

I love you.

If you stay a minute longer,

you'll be disqualified.

A piece of advice before I go back?

Knock 'em dead, pumpkin.

What the hell's going on?

You can't switch halfway through.

Put the Populaire back immediately

or you'll reimburse
every penny I've spent on you.

I've doubled your investment.

If you won't do it for my father,

do it for me.

You're not that good a kisser.

Don't let me down, kid.

This time,
my money's on you.

Into the final stretch.

Anything's possible, Gaston.

Pamphyle on her Triumph

is keystrokes from victory.

Pamphyle seems possessed

by the machine.

She has possessed
the machine, you mean.

Only 40 seconds left.

My God!

She can't type a line!

What a disaster!

I know!

You'll think I'm nuts,

but the only way
it can keep up with her

is to put all the letters together.

On a mechanism, some kind of ball...

A golf ball. It's a golf ball!

I'll sell it, We split it 50-50.

Great performance, pumpkin.

This is extraordinary!
Rose Pamphyle is

World Champion of 1959!