All language subtitles for Before.Sunset.2004.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG

♪ Now we are together ♪

♪ Sitting outside ♪

♪ In the sunshine ♪

♪ But soon ♪

♪ We'll be apart ♪

♪ And soon ♪

♪ It'll be night at noon ♪

♪ Now ♪

♪ Things are fine ♪

♪ The clouds
are far away ♪

♪ Up in the sky ♪

♪ But soon ♪

♪ I'll be on a plane ♪

♪ And soon ♪

♪ You'll feel the cold rain ♪

♪ You promised to stay in touch ♪

♪ When we're apart ♪

♪ You promised before I left ♪

♪ That you'll always love me ♪

♪ Time goes by and people cry ♪

♪ And everything goes too fast ♪♪

Do you consider the book
to be autobiographical?

Mmm. Um, well...

I mean, isn't everything autobiographical?

I mean, we all see the world through
our own tiny keyhole. Right?

I always think of Thomas Wolfe.

Have you ever seen that little
one-page note to reader

in the front of Look Homeward, Angel?

You know what I'm talking about?

Anyway, he says that we are the sum
of all the moments of our lives

and that anybody who sits down to write
is gonna use the clay of their own life,

that you can't avoid that.

So when I look at my own life, you know,

I have to admit, right, that I've —

I've never been around a bunch
of guns or violence, you know, not really.

No political intrigue
or a helicopter crash, right?

But my life, from my own point of view,
has been full of drama. Right?

And so I thought if I could write a book
that — that could capture what it's like

to... to really meet somebody.

And one of the most exciting things
that's ever happened to me

is to really meet somebody,
make that connection.

And if I could make that valuable,
you know, to capture that,

that — that would be the attempt, or...

Did I answer your question? I...

I'll try to be more specific. Okay?

Was there ever a French young woman
on a train you met and spent an evening with?

Um...

See, to me that, uh —
I mean, that's not important. You know?

So that's a yes.

All right, since I'm in France and this is
the last stop of my book tour, yes.

Thank you.

Mr. Wallace, the book ends
on an ambiguous note.

We don't know.

Do you think they get back together
in six months like they promise each other?

Like they promised? Um...

I think I answered that.
You know, it's, uh...

It's a good test,
if you're a romantic or a cynic. Right?

I mean, you think — you think
they get back together, right?

- You don't, for sure.
- No.

And you hope they do, but you're not sure.
That's why you're asking the question.

And do you think they get back together?
I mean, did you in real life?

Did I in real...

Look, in the words of my grandfather,

"To answer that would take the piss
out of the whole thing."

We have time for one last question.

What is your next book?

Uh... I don't know, man.

I don't know.

I've been...
I've been thinking about this —

Well, I always
kinda wanted to write a book

that all took place, uh,
within the space of a pop song.

You know, like three or four
minutes long, the whole thing.

The story — The idea
is that there's this guy, right,

and he's totally depressed.

I mean, his great dream was to be
a lover, an adventurer, you know,

riding motorcycles through South America.

And instead he's sitting
at a marble table eating lobster.

He's got a good job and a beautiful wife,
right, everything that he needs.

But that doesn't matter, because
what he wants is to fight for meaning.

You know? I mean,
happiness is in the doing, right?

Not in the getting what you want.

So he's sitting there,

and just that second

his little five-year-old daughter
hops up on the table.

And he knows that she should get down,
'cause she could get hurt.

But she's dancing to this pop song
in a summer dress.

And he looks down,
and all of a sudden, uh, he's 16.

And his high school sweetheart
is dropping him off at home.

And they just lost their virginity,
and she loves him,

and the same song
is playing on the car radio.

She climbs up and starts
dancing on the roof of the car.

And now he's worried about her.

And she's beautiful, with a facial expression
just like his daughter's.

In fact, maybe that's why
he even likes her.

See, he knows he's not remembering
this dance. He's there.

He's there in both moments simultaneously.

And just like for an instant,
all his life is just folding in on itself.

And it's obvious to him
that time is a lie,

uh...

uh, that it's — that it's —
it's all happening all the time,

and inside every moment is another moment,
all... you know, happening simultaneously.

Anyway, that's...
that's kind of the idea... anyway.

Our author has to be
going to the airport soon,

so thank you all very much
for coming over this afternoon.

And a special thanks to Mr. Wallace
for being with us.

Thank you. Thank you.

We hope to see you here again
with your next book.

Thank you all.

How much longer
before I have to go to the airport?

You should leave at 7:30.
7:30 at the very latest, hmm?

Okay. Okay.

Hi.

Hello.

Bonjour.

How are you?

- Good. And you?
- Um...

I'm good. Yeah, I'm great. I'm, uh...

Do you want to maybe get a cup of coffee?

Didn't he just say
you have a plane to catch?

Uh... yeah.

But, I mean, I have a little time.

- Okay.
- Yeah? All right, well, let me...

I'll meet you outside then. Okay.

Excuse me. I'm just gonna go get
a cup of coffee. I'll be back at 7:15.

- Did you sign all these?
- Yeah, I sure did.

Get your driver Philippe's card so that you
can call his cell phone if you're running late.

We will put your bags in the car
so you are not late going to the airport.

- All right. Thanks for everything.
- Thank you.

- Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle.
- Simone.

Simone. Which one's Philippe?

Merci.

I can't believe you're here.

I live here in Paris.

- Wow. Um...
- Are you sure you don't have to stay?

- You're not supposed to talk some more?
- No, they're sick of me.

- I spent the night here last night.
- You did?

- Yeah, they got a loft upstairs.
- Oh, wow.

- Anyway, how are you? This is so weird.
- I'm fine.

- It's good to see you.
- It's good to see you.

- So, you want to go to a café?
- Uh, yeah.

Okay. There's one
a little further that I like.

I thought I was gonna totally lose it
in there when I first saw you.

How'd you even know I was gonna be here?

It's my favorite bookstore in Paris.

You can sit down for hours and read.
I love it.

- There's fleas, but, you know...
- I know.

I think a cat slept on my head last night.

So I saw your picture on the calendar
about a month ago

and that you were going to be here.

- It's funny because I read an article on your book.
- Uh-huh.

- And it sounded vaguely familiar.
- Vaguely, yeah.

Yes.

But I didn't put it all together
until I saw your photo, so...

Did you have a chance to read it?

Yes! I, um... I was really, really surprised,
as you can imagine.

I mean, I had to read it twice, actually.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

- Comme ci, comme ça?
- No, I liked it!

- Yeah?
- It's very romantic.

I usually don't like that,
but it's really well-written.

It's really well-written. No, I really —

- Thank you.
- Congratulations.

- Wait.
- What?

Before we go anywhere, I have, um...
I have to ask you.

Sure. What?

Did you show up in Vienna that December?

Ah.

Uh, did you?

No, I couldn't. But did you?

- I need to know. It's important to me.
- Why, if you didn't?

Well, did you?

No.

Oh! Oh, thank God you didn't.

- I'm, like — Oh, my God.
- Thank God I didn't and you didn't.

If one of us had showed up there alone,
then that would have sucked.

I know. I was so concerned with that.

I always felt horrible about
not being there, but I couldn't.

My grandma died a few days before
and she was buried that day, December 16.

- She died? The one in Budapest?
- Yes.

- You remember that?
- I remember everything.

Of course. It was in your book.

But anyway, I was about to fly to Vienna
and we heard the news about her,

and of course I had to go to the funeral
with my parents.

- I'm sorry to hear that.
- I know.

But you weren't there anyway.

Wait. Why weren't you there?

I would have been there if I could have.
I made plans.

You better have a good reason.

What?

Oh. No.

No, you were there, weren't you?

Oh, no! Oh, that's terrible!

I'm laughing, but I don't mean it.

Did you hate me? You must have hated me.
Have you been hating me all this time?

- You have.
- No! No!

- Yes, you have.
- No.

But you can't hate me now, right?

- I mean, my grandma —
- I don't hate you. It's no big deal.

I flew all the way over there.
You blew the thing off.

My life's been a big nosedive since then,
but it's not a problem.

- No, you can't say that.
- I'm kidding.

I can't believe it!

You must have been so angry with me.
I'm so sorry.

I really wanted to be there
more than anything in the world. I swear.

- Honestly — I swear —
- You can't be angry now. My grandmother.

No, I know. I honestly thought that
something like that might have happened.

I was definitely bummed.

But mostly I was mad we hadn't exchanged
any phone numbers or any information.

That was so stupid. No way to get in touch.
I didn't even know your last name, nothing.

But remember, we were both afraid
that if we started writing and calling

that it would slowly, you know, fade out.

- Yeah, it definitely wasn't a slow fade.
- No, it sure wasn't.

- We wanted to pick up where we left off.
- Which would have been fine if it had worked.

- A good idea. Yeah.
- Oh, well.

So...

So...

- How long were you in Vienna then?
- Just a couple days.

- Did you meet another girl?
- Uh, yeah.

- Her name was Gretchen. She was amazing.
- You did?

Yeah. The book's really
a composite of the two of you.

- Really? Oh, no!
- No, I'm kidding.

You wouldn't belie —
I even went back to the train station.

I put up signs of my number and the hotel
in case you'd been delayed.

- I was a total dork.
- Let's go this way. Did you get any calls?

Just a couple hookers
looking for a gig, you know.

No, it was awful.
What do you want me to say?

Oh, it's so sad. I'm so sorry.

I walked around for a couple days.
Eventually I flew home.

I owed my dad 2,000 bucks, who had warned me
about French chicks, I have to say.

What did he tell you about French women?

Nothing. The guy —
He's never met any French women.

He's never been east of the Mississippi.

So why didn't you put "six months later
the French bitch didn't show up"?

No, but I did. I did.

- You did?
- Yeah. No, I made it more hopeful.

I wrote this whole fictional version
where you actually do show up.

- Oh. What happens?
- Well, um...

What?

- We make love for about ten days straight.
- Oh. That's interesting.

- So the French slut, right? Yeah, okay.
- Yeah, exactly.

Then they get to know each other better
and realize they don't get along at all.

I like that. It's more real.

Yeah, well, my editor didn't think that way.

No. Everyone wants to believe in love.
It sells, right?

Yeah, exactly. So...

So things are going well for you. Right?
Your book is a best seller in the US.

- It's a tiny best seller.
- Oh, come on.

All right, officially, yes.

But most people haven't read Moby-Dick.
Why should they read my book?

I haven't read Moby-Dick,
and I liked your book, so...

Thanks.

Even though I thought
you idealized the night of it.

Oh! Come on. It's officially fiction, right?

- No, I know, I know, I know.
- I mean, I'm supposed to —

I thought there were times
where you made me —

Well, I mean her, right? No, me.

Okay, whatever.

A little bit neurotic.

- But you are a little bit like that, aren't you?
- You think I'm neurotic?

No, no, no! Come on! I'm kidding.

- Where did I do that? I didn't do that.
- Oh, maybe it's just me.

You know, um...

reading something, knowing the character
in the story is based on you,

it's both flattering
and disturbing at the same time.

How is it disturbing?

I don't know.

Just being part of someone else's memory.

Seeing myself through your eyes.

How long did it take you to write it?

Uh, three or four years, on and off.

Wow, that's a really long time
to be writing about one night.

Yeah, I know. Tell me about it.

I always assumed you had forgotten me.

No, I had a pretty clear picture
of you in my mind.

- I have to tell you something. I just —
- What?

I've wanted to talk to you for so long
that now it's just surreal.

- Like everything out of my mouth should be —
- I know. How long do we have?

- Twenty minutes and 30 seconds?
- No, we got more than that.

I want to know about you. Tell me.
What are you doing? What are you up to?

Uh, where to start?
I, um... I work for Green Cross.

- It's an environmental organization.
- Yeah? What are they all about?

Well, we basically work on
different environment issues,

from clean water to
disarmament of chemical weapons.

You know, international laws
that deal with the environment.

- And what do you do for them?
- We're going this way.

Uh, different things.

Like, last year I was in India for a while,
working on a water treatment plant.

Wow!

The cotton industry there
is a major source of pollution, so...

It sounds like you're
actually doing something.

Most people, myself included,
just sit around and bitch,

you know, how America's consuming
all the world's resources,

SUVs suck, global warming is real.

I'm relieved to hear you're not one of
those "Freedom fries" kind of Americans.

Hey, you know...
But how'd you get into that?

Uh, I came out of political science and
I was hoping to work for the government.

And I did for a little while.
Ugh. Terrible.

- Not good.
- No.

Anyway, I got really tired —
Let's go this way —

of having this endless
conversation with friends

about how the world was falling to pieces.

So I decided what I really wanted to do
was to find things that could be fixed

and try to fix them, you know.

Yeah, I always thought you'd be
doing something cool like that. I did.

Thanks.

I just feel really, really lucky
to be doing a job I like, you know.

Yeah.

I actually alternate in between thinking
that everything is irrevocably screwed up

and that things might be
getting better in some ways.

Better? How could you possibly say that?

Well, I just mean, you know, like...

I know it sounds weird,
but there are things to be optimistic about.

Okay.

Um, I know your book is selling.

Which is great. I'm very happy for you.

But let me break the news to you.
The world is a mess right now!

- From a Western point of view, things are better.
- I wasn't saying that —

We're moving all our industry
to developing nations

where we can get cheap labor
free of any environmental laws.

The weapon industry is booming.

Five million people die every year
from preventable water disease.

So how is the world getting any better?

I'm not getting angry. But come on.
I want to know. I'm interested.

I realize that there are a lot
of serious problems in the world.

- Okay. Thank you.
- Okay?

I mean, I don't even have one publisher
in the whole Asian market.

All right.

- Just say stop.
- What? Stop.

- Uh-oh!
- No, look!

All I'm saying is there's more awareness.
People are gonna fight back.

- Okay.
- You know?

I think the world might be getting better
because people like you

are educated and speaking out.

Even the very notion of conservation,
environmental issues,

those weren't even
in the vocabulary until fairly recently.

They're becoming the norm

and eventually might be
what's expected all over the world.

I agree with what you're saying,
but at the same time it's dangerous.

An imperialist country can use that kind
of thinking to justify their economic greed.

You know, I — Human rights —

Is there any particular imperialist country
you have in mind there, Frenchie?

- Mmm. No, not really.
- No?

- Bonsoir.
- Bonsoir.

So, you want to sit over there?

Yeah, this is perfect.

Oh, wow.

Maybe what I'm saying is the world
might be evolving the way a person evolves.

Right? Like, I mean me, for example.

Am I getting worse?
Am I improving? I don't know.

When I was younger, I was healthier,
but I was wracked with insecurity. You know?

Now I'm older, my problems are deeper,
but I'm more equipped to handle them.

So what are your problems?

Right now I don't have any.

I don't. You know?

I'm just damn happy to be here.

Me too.

So, how long have you been in Paris?

I got in last night.
I've done ten cities in 12 days.

I'm wrecked. I'm so glad it's over.
I'm tired of being a huckster.

Well, hello.

Uh, what do you want?

Um, a cup of coffee.

God, I love this café.
I wish they had places like this in the US.

Yeah, I missed cafés
when I was living over there.

I find a few places I really liked,
but there was —

- You were living in the US?
- Yes.

From '96 to '99. I was studying at NYU.

Oh, God! Don't tell me that, Celine!

- What?
- No, it's just...

- Nothing. I mean, I...
- What?

I've been living in New York since '98.
We were there at the same time.

- In New York?
- Yeah.

Wow, that's weird.

It actually crossed my mind a few times
that I might run into you.

But the odds are so slim, right? So...

I didn't even know
what city you were living in.

- Weren't you somewhere in Texas?
- Yeah, yeah, yeah. Definitely.

I was for a long time.
I just, you know, wanted to try New York.

Mmm. Wow.

What brought you back here?

I had finished my master's, for one.
And no visa. No more visa.

And anyway,
I was starting to get paranoid.

All the violence in the medias,
gang violence, murders.

Especially serial killers.

But the final straw was,

one night I heard some noise
on my fire escape, so I called 911.

And the cops came, eventually.

- Yeah, like, three hours later.
- After I'd been raped and killed three times.

No, but it was a man and a woman officer.

I was explaining to them what I had heard

when the woman had to run downstairs
to move the police car.

So I was left alone with the male cop,
and right away he asked me if I had a gun.

And I said no, of course not.

And he told me, "You better think about
getting one. This is America, not France.

Okay?"

And I said to him,
"I have no idea how to shoot a gun,

and I have no interest
in firearms whatsoever."

And that's when he pulled out his gun
like this, and he went,

"Well, one day you're gonna
have something like this in your face.

And if you want to have a long life,

you're gonna have to choose
between you or them."

And then they left.

The next morning
I called for an application to get a gun.

Me, with a gun.
I mean, that's really scary.

But then I realized something was wrong,

the way that cop had pulled his gun out
and everything, right?

Yeah, sure.

So I canceled my demand for the gun
and I called the police station

and tried to complain
about that cop's behavior, but —

- What happened with that?
- It was so much paperwork.

Then I got scared
with my shitty student visa.

You thought you'd get deported?

Yeah, exactly. So I gave up
and I forgot about the whole thing.

- Well, I guess I never forgot.
- Well, obviously. Yeah.

But still, you know,
I really enjoyed being there.

- There's a lot of things I miss about the US.
- Yeah? Like what?

Um... well...

the overall good mood people have there.

Even if it can be bullshit sometimes.

Like, "How you doing?" "Great. How you doing?"
"Great!" "Have a great day!"

I don't know.

Parisians can be so grumpy.
Have you noticed?

Uh, no.
Everybody seems pretty happy to me.

- They're not happy.
- They're not happy?

No, they are. I just mean French men.
They drive me nuts.

What is it? What about them?

Well, they're very nice.
They're great, you know, to be around.

They love food, wine. They're great cooks.

But maybe I've had really bad luck with them.

- Why? What do you mean?
- Um, well...

- I guess they're not as, um...
- What?

What's the word? Um... horny?

- They're not as horny.
- All right, listen to me on this one.

In that regard,
I am proud to be an American.

And you should be. In that regard only.

Merci.

Have you ever spent time
in Eastern Europe?

- Eastern? No. I don't —
- No?

Thank you.

I, uh — I remember as a teenager
I went to Warsaw

when it was still
a strict Communist regime.

- Which I don't approve of at all.
- Oh, yeah. Sure, you don't.

- No, I don't!
- No, I'm just kidding.

But anyway, something about being there
was very interesting, I found.

After a couple of weeks,
something changed in me.

The city was quite gloomy and gray,

but after a while my brain seemed clearer.

I was writing a lot more in my journal,
ideas I'd never thought of before.

Communist ideas?

- Listen, I am not a Communist —
- I'm sorry.

- Okay.
- Go on.

Okay. I'll send you to a gulag.

No, but it took me a while to figure out
why I felt, you know, so different.

Then one day, as I was walking
through the Jewish cemetery —

I don't know why,
but it occurred to me there —

I realized that I had spent the last two weeks
away from most of my habits.

TV was in a language I didn't understand.

There was nothing to buy,
no advertisements anywhere,

so all I'd been doing was
walk around, think and write.

My brain felt like it was at rest,
free from the consuming frenzy,

and it was almost like a natural high.

I felt so peaceful inside, no strange urge
to be somewhere else, to shop.

Maybe it could have seemed
like boredom at first,

but it quickly became very, very soulful.

It was interesting, you know?

Can you believe it was nine years ago
that we were walking around Vienna?

- Nine years? No, that's impossible.
- No, it was. It feels like two months ago to me.

But it was summer, '94.

Mm-hmm.

Do I look any different?

I do?

- I'd have to see you naked.
- What?

I know. I'm sorry.
No, your hair was different back then.

- What?
- Yeah, take it down. Let's see.

Down. It was down. Okay.

Well? Voilà.

So?

Okay, come on. Tell me.

Uh...

skinnier, I think.

A little thinner.

Did you think I was fat before?

No!

Yeah, you thought I was a fatty.
You thought I was a fatty!

Yeah, you wrote a book
about a fat French girl.

- No, listen...
- Oh, no.

Seriously, all right? You look beautiful.

Do I look any different?

No, not at all.

Well, actually, you have this line.

- I know.
- It's like a scar.

- A scar? What, like a gunshot wound?
- No, no, no.

I like it. I'm sorry.

I had this, uh, funny —

well, horrible dream the other day.

Um, I was having this awful nightmare
that I was 32.

And then I woke up and I was 23 —
so relieved.

- Mm-hmm.
- And then I woke up for real and I was 32.

- Oh, shit.
- Scary.

- It happens.
- Yeah, time goes faster and faster.

Apparently we don't renew our synapses after 20,
so it's downhill from then on. Oh, well.

I like getting older.

Life feels... I don't know.
It feels more immediate.

- Mm-hmm.
- Like I can appreciate things more.

Me too, actually. I really love it.

I was once a... a drummer in a band.

- You were?
- Yeah. We were pretty good, actually.

But the lead singer guy, he was just so
obsessed with us getting a record deal.

It's all we talked about. It's all we
thought about. Getting bigger shows.

Everything was just focused
on the future all the time.

And now the band doesn't
even exist anymore, right?

Looking back at the shows we did play,
even rehearsing, it was so much fun.

Now I'd be able to enjoy
every minute of it.

- Could I have a drag of that?
- Mm-hmm.

Well, your book has been published.
That's a pretty big deal.

And you've been all around Europe with it.
Are you enjoying every minute of it?

- Not really.
- Not really?

No.

- You have another one of those?
- Yes, of course.

Um... Here.

In my field I see these people that —
Oh, sorry.

come into it with big idealist visions

of becoming the new leader
that will create a better world.

- They enjoy the goal, but not the process.
- Right.

But the reality of it is that
the true work of improving things

is in the little achievements of the day.

And that's what you need to enjoy
to stay in that field.

What do you mean, exactly?

For example, I was working for this organization
that helped villages in Mexico.

Their concern was how to get the pencils
sent to the kid in those little country schools.

It was not about big, revolutionary ideas.
It was about pencils.

I see the people that do the real work,
and what's really sad in a way is that

the people that are the most giving, hard-working
and capable of making this world better

usually don't have the ego
and ambition to be a leader.

They don't see any interest
in superficial rewards.

They don't care if their name
ever appears in the press.

They actually enjoy
the process of helping others.

They're in the moment.

Yeah, but that's so hard,
you know, to be in the moment.

I just feel like I'm designed
to be slightly dissatisfied with everything.

I mean, like always trying to
better my situation, you know.

I satisfy one desire,
and it just agitates another.

But then I think to hell with it, right?
Desire's the fuel of life.

Do you think it's true that if, uh...

if we never wanted anything
we'd never be unhappy?

I don't know.

Not wanting anything,
isn't that a symptom of depression?

- Yeah, that is, right?
- Yeah.

I mean, it's healthy to desire, right?

Yeah. I don't know.

It's what all those
Buddhist guys say, right?

Liberate yourself from desire and you'll find
you already have everything you need.

Yeah, but I feel really alive when I want
something more than basic survival needs.

Wanting, whether it's intimacy with
another person or a new pair of shoes,

is kind of beautiful.

I like that we have those
ever-renewing desires. You know?

Maybe it's just a sense of entitlement.

Like whenever you feel like you deserve
that new pair of shoes, you know?

It's okay to want things as long as you
don't get pissed off if you don't get them.

Life's hard. It's supposed to be.

If we didn't suffer,
we wouldn't learn a thing.

So what, are you Buddhist or something?

- No.
- No? Why not?

I don't know.

Same reason I don't really
consider myself anything, really.

Yeah, I know.

I decided a long time ago
I was gonna be open to everything

but not buy into
any one and only belief system.

I went to this Trappist monastery
a couple years ago.

Trappist?

- Yeah, they're Catholic. Cistercian.
- Oh, okay.

- Why did you do that?
- Why?

I'd just been doing some reading, I guess.
I thought it'd be cool.

Have you ever spent any time
with any monks or nuns?

No. It's not really my style.

- No?
- No! But go ahead.

I expected them to be all glowering
and stern, but they weren't.

They were really quick to laugh,
really easy to be around.

Seriously, very attuned to everything.
They were just, uh...

You know, they weren't trying
to hustle anybody.

They're trying to live and die
in peace with God

or whatever part of them
they feel is eternal.

And it was just so refreshing
to be around.

You realize that most of the people you meet
are trying to get somewhere better.

They're trying to make a little bit more cash,
they're trying to get a little more respect,

have more people admire them —
it's exhausting.

No kidding.

It's exhausting to be
one of those people yourself.

There I am, right, all greedy
to be more spiritual, you know?

I want to be a better person, you know?

You can't escape.

I had this boyfriend of mine
many years ago

that wanted to be a Buddhist.

So he went to Asia to visit
some of those monasteries.

- I thought about doing that too.
- Yeah, and you should.

I'll tell you why —
he was quite good-looking,

and each time he went
to one of those monasteries

a monk offered to suck his cock.

True story!

Well, it all comes down to that, doesn't it?

I think that's why I really admire
what you're doing. You know?

What do you mean, sucking cock?

Uh, no!

- Wrong answer.
- No. No.

I was gonna say, you're not
detached from life, you know?

You're putting your passion into action.

Well, I try.

- Hey, you know something?
- What?

I'm gonna be on planes and, like,
in an airport for the next eight hours.

I'd just love to see
a little bit more of Paris.

- Would you walk around with me?
- Yeah, let's do that.

- Do you mind? You want to?
- Yeah, yeah, that's great.

What do we owe here? 4.50?

No, no, I got it.
I got a little per diem going on here.

- This good for a tip and everything?
- Yeah, that's fine. That's more than enough.

I'll throw that in there too.

- Is there anywhere to go around here?
- It's sales day today.

- What's that?
- It's when everything is on sale in Paris.

It's twice a year. Au revoir. Merci.

Au revoir. Merci.

All right. Let's go shopping.

No, that's a bad idea.
I don't want to inflict that on you.

- No?
- It's madness.

Let's just go on this garden path.
It's really nice.

All right. That sounds better
than shopping, actually.

Not that I wouldn't do
whatever you wanted, but...

Sometimes I don't even
need to buy anything.

I just get high on trying on
and looking at things.

Well, a therapist would tell you —
Is this where we're going?

- A therapist would tell you that's all good.
- Really?

- Yeah.
- Are you ever in therapy?

No. Do I seem like I'm in therapy?

I'm kidding.

Has it helped your sex problems?

- My sex problems?
- I'm kidding.

Come on. Tell me the truth.
We didn't have any problems that night.

No! I'm kidding.
We didn't even have sex anyway.

- That's a joke, right?
- No, we didn't.

That was the whole thing.

- No, of course we did.
- No, we didn't.

You didn't have a condom
and I never have sex without one.

Especially on a one-night thing.
I'm extremely paranoid about my health.

Whoa, hold on. I'm finding this very scary
that you don't remember what happened.

No, listen. Okay? I didn't write an entire book,
but I kept a journal. Okay?

And I wrote the whole night in it.

That's what I meant,
you idealizing the night.

Listen, I even remember
what brand of condom we used.

Okay, that's disgusting.
I don't want to hear it.

- That's not disgusting.
- No.

When I get home I'll check my journal
from '94, but I know I'm right.

- Wait a minute.
- What?

Was it in the cemetery?

No. No, we went to the cemetery
in the afternoon.

It was in the park. Very late at night.

- In the park.
- Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

I can't — I can't...

Is it that forgettable?
You really don't remember? In the park.

Okay, wait a minute.
I — I think you might be right.

- You're messing with me now.
- No.

- Are you messing with me?
- Okay, no, I'm sorry. I think you're r —

I mean you're right, okay?

Sometimes I put things in drawers
inside my head and forget about it.

I guess it's less painful to put certain things
away than to live with it. I'm sorry.

So that night was like
a sad memory for you?

I didn't mean that night in particular.

I just meant certain things
are better off forgotten.

I remember that night
better than I do entire years.

- Me too.
- Really?

Well, I thought I did.

But maybe I put it away because of
the fact that my grandmother's funeral

was the day we were
supposed to meet again.

Yeah, right. It was a tough day for me,
but it must have been worse for you.

It was unreal.

I remember looking
at her dead body in the coffin,

at her beautiful hands, so warm,
so sweet, that used to hold me.

But nothing in that coffin resembled
what I remembered of her.

All the warmth was gone.

And then I was crying, so confused,

if I was crying because I was never
gonna see her again

or never gonna see you again or...

I'm sorry to go on like this.
I've been a little down this week.

- Why?
- I don't know.

Nothing bad.
Just, um, reading your book, maybe?

No, but thinking of how hopeful
I was that summer and fall,

and since then it's been kind of a...

I don't know.

Memory is a wonderful thing
if you don't have to deal with the past.

What?

"Memory is a wonderful thing
if you don't have to deal with the past."

Can I put that on a bumper sticker?

If you wrote a book about our night,
that would be a good title.

- And it would be a total different book.
- Yeah, there'd be no sex scenes.

- But you know what?
- What?

Now that we've met again, we can
change our memory of that December 16.

It no longer has that sad ending of us
never seeing each other again.

You're right. I guess a memory's
never finished as long as you're alive.

Yeah, I know.

I have this memory from my childhood
that I realized recently never happened.

What?

Well, when I was eight or nine,
my mom was so paranoid

when I was walking home
from my piano lesson at night,

she would always warn me about
dirty old men giving me candies

and then showing me their pee-pees.

She was so obsessed with it
that later in life

I had this image in my head
that this really happened,

to the point that I even associated sex
with that walk home.

I mean, and sometimes even now when I'm...

when I'm... when I'm having sex,

I see myself walking down that street.

I swear. It's so weird, right?

Is that street nearby? I mean, could —

No!

It's very far.

Did you ever keep a journal
when you were a kid?

Yeah. On and off, I guess.

It's funny. I read one of mine
from '83 the other day.

And what really surprised me is that
I was dealing with life the same way I am now.

I was much more hopeful and naive,

but the core and the way I was
feeling things is exactly the same.

It made me realize
I haven't changed much at all.

I don't think anybody does.

People don't want to admit it,
but it's like we have these innate set-points,

and it's like nothing much that
happens to us changes our disposition.

- Really? You believe that?
- I think so.

I read this study where they followed people
who'd won the lottery

and people who'd become paraplegics.

You'd think that one extreme is gonna
make you euphoric and the other suicidal.

But the study shows
that after about six months,

as soon as people had gotten used to their
new situation, they were more or less the same.

- The same?
- Well, yeah.

Like, if they were basically
an optimistic, jovial person,

they're now an optimistic,
jovial person in a wheelchair.

If they're a petty, miserable asshole,

they're a petty, miserable asshole
with a new Cadillac, a house and a boat.

So you mean I'll be forever depressed
no matter what great things happen in my life?

- Definitely.
- Great.

- No, come on. Are you depressed now?
- No, I'm not depressed.

But sometimes I worry
that I'll get to the end of my life

feeling I haven't done all I wanted to do.

Well, what do you want to do?

I, um... I want to paint more.
I want to play my guitar every day.

I want to learn Chinese.
I want to write more songs.

There's so many things I want to do,
and I end up doing not much.

All right. Well, let me ask you this.

Do you believe in ghosts or spirits?

Uh, no.

- No?
- No.

Okay, uh, what about reincarnation?

Not at all.

- God?
- No.

- All right.
- That sounds so terrible. No, no, no.

But I don't want to be one of those people
that don't believe in any kind of magic.

So then, astrology?

- Yes! Of course!
- There we go.

- That makes sense, right?
- Obviously.

You're a Scorpio, I'm a Sag. We get along.

No, no, no.

There's an Einstein quote
I really, really like.

He said if you don't believe
in any kind of magic or mystery,

you're basically as good as dead.

Yeah, I like that.

I've always felt there was some kind
of mystical core to the universe.

But more recently I've started to think
that — that me, my personality, whatever,

that I don't have
any permanent place here.

You know? In eternity or whatever.

And the more I think that, I can't go
through life saying that this is no big deal.

I mean, this is it.
This is actually happening.

What do you think is interesting? Funny?
What do you think is important? You know?

Every day's our last.

When I feel that way, I usually call my mom
to tell her how much I love her.

- Yeah?
- And she's always, "Are you okay?

Do you have cancer?
Are you gonna commit suicide?"

It's almost not worth it.

So... So, what about us?

- What about us?
- No.

What I mean is,
if we were both going to die tonight —

- Like, if the apocalypse was coming?
- No, that's too dramatic.

But what if, you know,
just the two of us were going to die?

I mean, would we talk about your book,
the environment, or...

- If today was our last day.
- Yeah, what would we talk about?

- What would you tell me, for example?
- Well, uh...

- That's hard, huh?
- No, I'll do it, I'll do it.

I definitely would stop talking about my book.
I admit I would probably drop the environment.

Okay.

But I would still want to talk
about the magic in the universe.

- I'd just want to do it from a...
- What?

A hotel room, you know,

in between sessions of us
wildly fucking until we die.

Wow. Well, why waste time
with a hotel room?

- Why not do it right there on a bench?
- Okay.

Come here, come here, come here.

Okay. We're not gonna die tonight. Okay?

All right. Too bad. I'm sorry.

- That was an extreme example.
- I'm sorry.

Okay.

My point was, to truly communicate
with people is very hard to do.

No, I know.
Most of our day-to-day exchanges —

Yeah, no, I mean, not to bring
everything back to sex, but —

- But why not?
- No, no, this example, this friend of mine.

She was talking about she
and her boyfriend's problems in bed

and how when they had been dating
for a year she started telling him

what he could do to please her more.

- It totally freaked him out. Totally.
- Why?

He felt threatened.
He thought it meant he was a bad lover.

Maybe she shouldn't have waited so long,
you know, after a year.

- But men are so easily offended.
- More than women, you think?

- Oh. Definitely, on that subject.
- You think so?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Well, maybe it's because, you know,

men are easier to — you know, to please.

- To please? Yeah, no, they are.
- Well, I don't know.

They definitely — Definitely.

Anyway, this friend of mine,
she was telling me

that, um, next time she dates another man,

she's gonna make a little questionnaire
about what they like and dislike

- before they even —
- Like, written down or out loud?

Yeah, yeah. Mostly written down.

But it wouldn't be just, you know, yes or no.
It would be a bit more complex than that.

Like, for example, if the question is,
"Are you into S and M?"

The answer could be, "No, but a good
spanking once in a while doesn't hurt."

- Right?
- All right.

Or like, "Do you like talking dirty in bed?"
That kind of thing?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.
But not just, like, any dirty talk.

Just like, "What specific word
would you like to hear?" You know?

- What, me?
- Well, yeah.

Like, for example,
what specific word would you like to hear?

I don't know.

Um, what do you feel
about the word "pussy"?

I love it.

Good.

It's amazing what perverts we've become
in the past nine years.

I know. At least now we don't have to
pretend that each new sexual experience

is like a life-altering event.

I know. By now you've stuck it in
so many places, it's about to fall off.

And I can't realistically expect you've become
anything but a total ho at this point.

Yeah, thank you.

I'm s —

- That's true. What can you do?
- What can you do?

So, what kind of songs do you write?

- I didn't know you did that.
- What kind?

- Yeah, sure.
- I don't know. Just songs.

Like, some are about, you know, people.

Uh, relationships. One's about my cat.

- Sing one.
- No, I can't. I don't have a guitar.

- Come on. A cappella.
- No, no, no.

I'm not singing a song without a guitar.
You're nuts.

Why not?

- No, okay. Not now. No.
- One.

If not now, when? You want to meet here
in six months with a guitar?

I'll fly all the way over here.
You may or may not make the Metro.

Okay, that's funny.

No. We've got to get going
back to the bookstore.

- We'll be all right.
- You're gonna miss your flight. Let's go.

- All right.
- We can walk down La Seine.

- It's a nice thing.
- Okay.

- So you're flying back to New York?
- Yeah, yeah.

So I read in that article
that you're married with a kid.

- That's great.
- Yeah, he's, um — he's four.

- What's his name?
- Henry. Little Hank.

- He's so much fun.
- Oh, wow. I'm sure.

- And your wife? What does she do?
- She teaches elementary school.

- Do you have kids?
- Yes, two.

- Shit!
- What?

I left them in the car,
with the windows up.

It was six months ago.
Do you think they're okay?

No, I'm kidding.
No, but I want to have kids someday.

- I'm just not ready yet.
- No?

- Yeah, I'm in a good relationship though.
- Oh, yeah? That's good.

- What's he do?
- He's a photojournalist.

He does war coverage.

He's away a lot, which in a way
is good for me 'cause I'm so busy.

But isn't it dangerous? Aren't a lot
of those guys getting killed these days?

He promises me he doesn't take risks.
But I often worry.

He goes in this trance when he
starts to photograph something.

What do you mean?

Well, once we were in New Delhi, and we
passed a bum lying down on the sidewalk.

- A bomb?
- A bum.

- A bum. All right.
- A homeless.

Anyway, he looked like he needed help,
but his first reaction was to photograph him.

He went, like, really close to his face,
fixing his collar to make it look better.

He was totally detached from the person.

But don't you have to be like that
to be good at that job?

Yeah, I mean, I'm not, you know —
I'm not judging him for it.

What he does is essential and incredible.
I'm saying I could never do it.

- Let's get on that boat. Come on.
- No!

- Come on. It'll be fun.
- You don't have time! We gotta go.

Looks like they're about to take off.
Look, I've got 15 more minutes.

- Do you have a cell phone?
- Yeah.

I got that driver guy's number,
and I can call him,

and they can pick us up
at whatever the next stop is.

I've never been on those boats.
It's for tourists. It's embarrassing.

Come on. Okay. All right.

- No, I'll get it. I'll get it.
- No, no.

All right, all right, all right.

- Okay.
- Thank you.

- So, you in love with that guy?
- What guy?

The war photographer. Merci.

- Yes, of course.
- Your change. Bon voyage.

Merci.

So, do you have that cell phone?

Oh, yeah.

- Okay.
- Okay.

- All right, what do I tell him?
- Tell him to pick you up at Quai Henri Quatre.

Ah, shit. Kay...

Henri Quatre. Quai Henri Quatre.

Henri Quatre.

What's wrong with you?
No, do you want me to —

- Henri Quatre.
- Henry Four?

- Yes!
- Come on. Why didn't you say so?

I'm sorry! Okay.

Yeah. Is this Philippe?

Yeah. Philippe, this is Jesse Wallace.

Yeah.

Well, listen,
I'm on one of those boats, right?

And we're gonna arrive
at Henri Four, at port Henri Four.

You know what that is? All right. Great.

And you have my bags, right?

Yeah, so we'll be there in —
I don't know. It's the next stop.

Okay. Au revoir.

- It's okay?
- Yeah, yeah.

- Thanks.
- Oh, wow! Notre-Dame, man.

- Check that out.
- Oh, wow.

I heard this story once about when
the Germans were occupying Paris

and they had to retreat back.

They wired Notre-Dame to blow.

But they had to leave one guy
in charge of hitting the switch.

And the guy, the soldier,
he couldn't do it.

You know, he just sat there, knocked out
by how beautiful the place was.

And then when the Allied troops came in,

they found all the explosives just lying there
and the switch unturned.

They found the same thing
at the Sacré-Coeur, Eiffel Tower.

Couple of other places, I think.

Is that true?

I don't know.
I always liked the story though.

Yeah, that's a great story.

But you have to think that Notre-Dame
will be gone one day.

There used to be another church
or cathedral at the Seine.

- Right there.
- Right in the same spot?

Yeah.

Hmm.

You know, this is great.
I've never done this.

- Yeah.
- I forget about how beautiful Paris is.

- This isn't so bad, being a tourist, huh?
- Thank you for getting me on the boat.

You're welcome.

I think that book that I wrote in a way
was like building something

so that I wouldn't forget the details
of the time that we spent together.

You know, like, just as a reminder
that once we really did meet.

You know, that this was real,
this happened.

I'm happy you're saying that
because I always feel like a freak

because I'm never able
to move on like this, you know.

People just have an affair
or even entire relationships.

They break up and they forget.

They move on like they would
have changed brand of cereals.

I feel I was never able to forget
anyone I've been with.

Because each person
had their own specific qualities.

You can never replace anyone.

What is lost is lost.

Each relationship, when it ends,
really damages me.

I never fully recover.

That's why I'm very careful
with getting involved,

because... it hurts too much.

Even getting laid,
I actually don't do that,

because I will miss of the person
the most mundane things.

Like I'm obsessed with little things.

Maybe I'm crazy,
but when I was a little girl,

my mom told me
that I was always late to school.

One day she followed me to see why.

I was looking at chestnuts
falling from the trees,

rolling on the sidewalk,

or ants crossing the road,

the way a leaf cast a shadow
on a tree trunk.

Little things.

I think it's the same with people.

I see in them little details,
so specific to each of them

that move me and that I miss
and will always miss.

You can never replace anyone

because everyone is made
of such beautiful, specific details.

Like I remember the way
your beard has a bit of red in it...

and how the sun was making it glow
that morning right before you left.

I remembered that, and I missed it.

Really crazy, right?

Now I know for sure. You want to know
why I wrote that stupid book?

Why?

So that you might come
to a reading in Paris,

and I could walk up to you and ask,
"Where the fuck were you?"

No, you think I'd be here today?

I'm serious. I think I wrote it,
in a way, to try to find you.

Okay, that's — I know that's not true,
but that's sweet of you to say.

I think it is true. What do you think
the chances were of us ever meeting again?

After that December, I'd say almost zero.

But we're not real anyway, right?

We're just characters
in that old lady's dream.

She's on her deathbed,
fantasizing about her youth.

So of course we had to meet again.

Oh, God. Why weren't you there in Vienna?

- I told you why.
- I know why.

I just...

I wish you would have been.

Our lives might have been
so much different.

Do you think so?

I actually do.

Maybe not. Maybe we would have
hated each other eventually.

What, like we hate each other now?

Maybe we're...
we're only good at brief encounters,

walking around in European cities.

In warm climate.

Oh, God. Why didn't we
exchange phone numbers and stuff?

Why didn't we do that?

Because we were young and stupid.

Do you think we still are?

I guess when you're young,
you just believe

there'll be many people
with whom you'll connect with.

And later in life, you realize
it only happens a few times.

Yeah. And you can screw it up, you know?

Misconnect.

Well, the past is the past.
It was meant to be that way.

You really believe that?
That everything's fated?

Well, you know, the world
might be less free than we think.

Yeah?

Yeah. When given
these exact circumstances,

that's what will happen every time.

Two part hydrogen, one part oxygen,
you'll get water every time.

No, no. I mean, what if your grandmother
had lived a week longer, you know?

Or passed away a week earlier? Days, even.

Things might have been different.
I believe that.

You can't think like that.

I know you shouldn't on most things, but...

it's just, on this one, it seemed
like something was off, you know?

I mean... in the months leading up
to my wedding, okay,

I was thinking about you all the time.

Even on my way there, I'm in the car,

and a buddy of mine
is driving me downtown,

and I'm staring out the window.

I think I see you not far
from the church, right?

Folding up an umbrella
and walking into a deli

on the corner of 13th and Broadway.

And I thought I was going crazy.
But now I think it probably was you.

I lived on 11th and Broadway.

You see?

So, what is it like to be married?
You haven't talked much about that.

I haven't?

How weird.

I don't know. We met, you know,
when I was in college.

And we broke up and got back together
for a period of years.

And then...

What — We were sort of back together
and she was pregnant...

so marriage.

What is she like?

She's a great teacher, a good mom.

Uh, she's smart, pretty.

I remember thinking at the time that
so many of the men that I admired most,

you know, that their lives were dedicated
to something greater than themselves.

So you got married because men
you admired were married?

No, no.

It's more like I had this idea
of my best self, you know?

And I wanted to pursue that

even if it might have been
overriding my honest self.

You know what I'm saying?

It's funny. Like, in the moment,
I remember thinking

that it didn't much matter,
the who of it all.

That nobody is gonna be everything to you

and that ultimately, it's just
the simple action of committing yourself,

meeting your responsibilities
that — that matters.

I mean, what is love, right,
if it's not respect, trust, admiration?

And I — I felt all those things.

So, cut to the present tense
and I feel like I'm running a small nursery

with somebody I used to date, you know?

I mean, I'm like a monk, you know?

I mean, I've had sex less
than ten times in the last four years.

- What? What? You laughing at me?
- No.

It sounds pathetic?

What monastery do the monk
have sex ten times?

You're right.
I'm doing better than most monks.

But I do. I feel like if somebody were to
touch me, I would dissolve into molecules.

We're here. We've gotta go. Come on.

Shit.

- Bonsoir.
- Bonsoir.

Bonsoir.

Oh, it's there.

- I'm sorry to hear that, you know —
- What?

you're not that happy with your marriage.

- This friend of mine, she's a shrink —
- How's she doing?

She's a mess, but —

No, she was telling me that she's
been dealing with a lot of couples

that are breaking up
for the same exact reason.

What reason is that?

All those couples expected
after a few years of living together

for the passion, that consuming desire,
to be the same than in the beginning.

- Yeah, right. I know that.
- It's impossible. And thank God!

Otherwise, we would end up with aneurysms
if we were in that constant state of excitement.

We would end up
doing nothing at all with our lives.

Do you think you would
have finished your book

if you were fucking someone
every five minutes?

I might have welcomed the challenge.

But you know, it's natural for your wife,
after the birth of your son.

- She has to give all her love to the little one.
- Of course.

Imagine if she was totally obsessed with sex,
riding you like a wild cat.

That wouldn't make any sense, right?

Everything you're saying makes sense.
It's not about sex.

No, I know. It's obvious.

I, uh —

You know, couples are so confused lately.

I think it must be
that men need to feel essential,

and they don't anymore.

Because it's been imprinted in their head for
so many years that they had to be the provider.

Like, I'm a strong, independent woman
in my professional life.

I don't need a man to feed me,

but I still need a man to love me
and that I could love, you know.

- So, uh, your driver's here.
- Yeah.

Well, I guess this is good-bye.
You better give me your —

No, why don't we just give you a ride home,
wherever you're going, huh?

Well, I can take the Metro. I'm fine.

No, no. My flight's not until 10:00.
They've got me arriving two hours early.

- This way we can keep talking. Monsieur.
- It's not really on the way.

- Oui.
- Oui.

Merci.

So you told him where you are
and all that jazz?

Yeah.

- So he knows where he's going?
- Yes.

Glad somebody does.

No, but this is better
than the Metro, right?

Definitely.

I was thinking, for me it's better
I don't romanticize things as much anymore.

I was suffering so much all the time.

I still have lots of dreams,
but they're not in regard to my love life.

It doesn't make me sad.
It's just the way it is.

Is that why you're in a relationship
with somebody who's never around?

Yes, obviously I can't deal with
the day-to-day life of a relationship.

Yeah, we have this exciting time together,

and then he leaves, and I miss him,
but at least I'm not dying inside.

When someone is always around me,
I'm, like, suffocating.

No. Wait. You just said that you need
to love and be loved.

Yeah, but when I do,
it quickly makes me nauseous.

It's a disaster.

I mean, I'm really happy
only when I'm on my own.

Even being alone, it's better than
sitting next to a lover and feeling lonely.

It's not so easy for me to be a romantic.

You start off that way, and after
you've been screwed over a few times,

you forget about all your delusional ideas
and you just take what comes into your life.

That's not even true.
I haven't been screwed over.

I've just had too many blah relationships.

They weren't mean. They cared for me.

But there was no real connection
or excitement.

At least, not from my side.

God, I'm sorry. Is it really that bad?

It's not, right?

You know, it's not even that.

I was... I was fine

until I read your fucking book.

It stirred shit up, you know?

It reminded me how genuinely romantic I was,
how I had so much hope in things.

And now it's like I don't believe in anything
that relates to love.

I don't feel things for people anymore.

In a way, I put all my romanticism
into that one night,

and I was never able
to feel all this again.

Like somehow this night
took things away from me.

I expressed them to you,
and you took them with you.

It made me feel cold,
like if love wasn't for me.

I don't believe that.
I don't believe that.

You know what? Reality and love
are almost contradictory for me.

It's funny.

Every single of my exes,
they're now married.

Men go out with me, we break up,
and then they get married.

Later they call me to thank me
for teaching them what love is —

Oh, God.

and that I taught them
to care and respect women.

- I think I'm one of those guys.
- I want to kill them!

Why didn't they ask me to marry them?

I would have said no,
but at least they could have asked!

But it's my fault. I know it's my fault
because I never felt it was the right man.

Never.

But what does it mean, the right man?
The love of your life? The concept is absurd.

The idea that we can only be complete
with another person is evil, right?

Can I talk?

I guess I've been heartbroken too many times,
and then I recovered.

So now, you know, from the start,
I make no effort

- because I know it's not gonna work out.
- You can't do that.

You can't live your life trying to avoid pain
at the expense of engaging —

Those are words.
I've gotta get away from you.

- Stop the car. I want to get out.
- No, no. Don't get out.

- Keep talking.
- It's being around you — Don't touch me!

I want to get on a cab.

No, no, no. Keep going. No, listen.
I'm just so happy —

Thank you. Just keep going.

All right.

Look, I'm just so happy, all right,
to be with you.

I am. I'm so glad
you didn't forget about me.

- Okay?
- No, I didn't. And it pisses me off, okay?

You come here to Paris,
all romantic and married, okay?

Screw you.

Don't get me wrong.
I'm not trying to get you or anything.

I mean, all I need is a married man.

And there's been so much
water under the bridge.

It's not even about you anymore.

It's about that time, that moment in time
that is forever gone. I don't know.

You say all that, but you didn't
even remember having sex, so...

Of course I remembered.

- You did?
- Yes.

Women pretend things like that.
I don't know.

- They do?
- Yeah, what was I supposed to say?

That I remember the wine in the park

and us looking up at the stars fading away
as the sun came up?

We had sex twice, you idiot!

All right. You know what?
I'm just happy to see you.

Even if you've become
an angry, manic-depressive activist.

I still like you.
I still enjoy being around you.

And I feel the same.

I'm sorry. I don't know what happened.
I just — I had to let it all out.

Don't worry about it.

I'm so miserable in my love life,
in my relationship.

I always act as, like,
you know, I'm detached.

But I'm dying inside.

I'm dying because I'm so numb.

I don't feel pain or excitement.
I'm not even bitter. I'm just, uh —

You think you're the one dying inside?

My life is 24/7 bad.

I'm sorry. God.

The only happiness I get
is when I'm out with my son.

I've been to marriage counseling.

I've done things
I never thought I would have to do.

I've lit candles,
bought self-help books, lingerie.

- Did the candles help?
- Hell, no.

I don't love her
the way she needs to be loved.

I don't even see a future for us.

But then I look at my little boy
sitting at the table across from me,

and I think I would suffer any torture
to be with him for all the minutes of his life.

I don't want to miss out on one.

But then there's no joy or laughter
in my home, you know?

- And I don't want him growing up in that.
- No laughter?

That's terrible. My parents
have been together for 35 years.

Even when they have a bad fight,
they end up laughing like crazy.

I don't want to be one of those people
who are getting divorced at 52,

falling down into tears,

admitting that they never
really loved their spouse

and they feel their life has been sucked up
into a vacuum cleaner.

You know, I want a great life.
I want her to have a great life.

She deserves that, all right?

But we're just living in the pretense
of a marriage, responsibility.

You know, all these, just, ideas
of how people are supposed to live.

But then I... I have these dreams.

What dreams?

I have these dreams, you know,

that, um... I'm standing on a platform,

and you keep going by on a train,

and you go by, and you go by,
and you go by, you go by.

And I wake up with the fucking sweats.

And then I have this other dream

where you're pregnant in bed
beside me, naked.

I want so badly to touch you,
but you tell me not to.

And then you look away.

And I touch you anyway,
right on your ankle.

And your skin is so soft
that I wake up in sobs. All right?

My wife is sitting there, looking at me,
and I feel like I'm a million miles from her.

And I know that there's something wrong,

that I — God, that I can't
keep living like this,

that there's gotta be something more
to love than commitment.

But then I think that I might have given up
on the whole idea of romantic love,

that I might have put it to bed
that day when you weren't there.

You know, I think I might have done that.

Why are you telling me all this?

I'm sorry. I don't know.

I — I shouldn't — I —

I shouldn't have.

You know, it's so weird.

People think they are the only ones
going through tough times.

I mean, when I read the article,
I thought your life was perfect.

A wife, a kid, published author.

But your personal life
is more of a mess than mine.

I'm sorry.

I'm glad it's good for something.

- This is where you live?
- Yeah.

So, are you just relieved that I'm
in even more deep shit than you are?

Yes. You've made me feel better.

- Oh, good. I'm glad.
- No.

No, I really wish you the best.

It's not because I'm incapable
of having a good relationship or a family

that I wish everyone to be doomed like me.

I'm sure you'll be a great mom someday.

Really? You think so?

Yeah, a few antidepressants,
you know, you'll do great.

Oh, no. Okay, say stop.

Stop. Yay!

- Okay.
- You ready?

Okay.

So, I want to try something.

What?

I want to see if you stay together
or if you dissolve into molecules.

How am I doing?

Still here.

Good. I like being here.

Is this your apartment?

No, I live down there.

- Down there?
- Yeah.

Uh, monsieur.
I'm gonna walk her to her door.

This is incredible.
This is where you live?

- Yeah.
- How long have you been here?

- Four years.
- Wow.

- So tell me...
- What?

Is it all true about your dreams,
or did you say that to hopefully get in my pants?

Oh, I just said that to get in your pants.
I use that all the time.

Oh, okay. Does it work?

Ah, you know. Sometimes.

Here's my kitty.

Oh, so cute! Look at him.

You know what I love about this cat?

Every morning,
I bring him down to the courtyard,

and every single morning,
he looks at everything like it was the first time.

Every corner, every tree, every plant.

Smells everything
with his little cute nose.

Oh, I love my kitty!

I love my kitty.

- What's his name?
- Che.

Che?

Uh-huh.

- What?
- Commie.

Yeah.

No, "che" in Argentina means "hey."

- Okay.
- Yes.

Oh, baby. Oh, yes, yes, yes.

We're having a little party.
It's so much fun.

Salut.

Uh, salut.

- So...
- So...

You know what?

I was thinking.
Would you play me one of your songs?

- You're gonna miss your flight.
- I won't. I won't.

I'm gonna be sitting in the airport
for over an hour reading the newspaper,

wishing you'd played me one of your songs.

- One song?
- Yeah.

- Okay, but quickly, huh?
- Okay.

God, I love these old staircases.

Mmm.

- Hold this.
- What, for me?

Geez. Hey there, buddy.

Che.

Whoa.

- Would you like some tea?
- Yeah, sure.

Wow.

- Is chamomile okay?
- Yeah.

Great. Merci.

Messy? You think my apartment is messy?

No, no. Merci. Merci beaucoup.

Ah, merci.

I meant to tell you,
your French has improved a lot.

- Really?
- Yeah, you've really mastered the language.

All right. All right.
What song are you gonna play me, huh?

No, I can't. It's too embarrassing.
It's been —

Whoa. No way. No way.

I came all the way up here.
You cannot crap out on me now. One song.

- Anything will be great.
- No, but listen. You're gonna laugh at me.

- You think so?
- Yes.

I doubt it.

Okay.

What do you want to hear?
I have three songs in English.

One's about my cat.
One's about my ex-boyfriend.

Well, ex-ex boyfriend.

And there's one about, um —

Well, it's just a little waltz.

A waltz? Yeah.

Play the waltz.

I haven't played it in a while. You sure?

Okay.

All right. The waltz.

♪ Let me sing you a waltz ♪

♪ Out of nowhere, out of my thoughts ♪

♪ Let me sing you a waltz ♪

♪ About this one-night stand ♪

♪ You were for me that night ♪

♪ Everything I always dreamt of in life ♪

♪ But now you're gone ♪

♪ You are far gone ♪

♪ All the way to your island of rain ♪

♪ It was for you just a one-night thing ♪

♪ But you were much more to me
Just so you know ♪

♪ I don't care what they say ♪

♪ I know what you meant for me
that day ♪

♪ I just want another try ♪

♪ I just want another night ♪

♪ Even if it doesn't seem quite right ♪

♪ You meant for me much more ♪

♪ Than anyone I've met before ♪

♪ One single night with you,
little... Jesse ♪

♪ Is worth a thousand with anybody ♪

♪ I have no bitterness, my sweet ♪

♪ I'll never forget this one-night thing ♪

♪ Even tomorrow in other arms ♪

♪ My heart will stay yours until I die ♪

♪ Let me sing you a waltz ♪

♪ Out of nowhere ♪

♪ Out of my blues ♪

♪ Let me sing you a waltz ♪

♪ About this lovely one-night stand ♪♪

- No, one more. One more. Please.
- No! No, no.

It was our deal. One song.

No, no, no.
You're gonna have your tea and then...

All right, let me ask you one question.

Do you just plug that name in
for every guy that comes up here?

Oh, yes, of course.

What do you think,
that I wrote the song about you?

Are you nuts?

Oh, is this you? Little cross-eyed Celine?

- Yes. It's funny.
- Cute!

- Is that your grandmother?
- Yeah.

Oh, wow.

- You want some honey?
- Yeah, sure.

♪ Just in time ♪

♪ You found me just in time ♪

Did you ever see Nina Simone in concert?

No, I never did.
I can't believe she's gone.

I know. It's so sad.

Thanks.

It's hot.

I saw her twice in concert.

She was so great.

That's one of my favorite songs of hers.

♪ Now that you're here ♪

♪ And I know where I'm going ♪

♪ No more doubt or fear ♪

♪ Found my way cl-cl-cl-cl-clear ♪

She was so great.

She was so funny in concert.

She would be right in the middle of a song

and then, you know, stop

and — and walk from the piano
all the way to the edge of the stage.

Like really slowly.

Then she'd start talking
to someone in the audience.

"Oh, yeah, baby. Oh, yeah.

Mm-hmm. Oh, I love you too."

And then she'd walk back. Took her time.

No hurry, you know.

She had that big, cute ass.

She would move. Whoo.

And then she would go back
to the piano and play some more.

And then she would, I don't know,

just start another song
in the middle of another, you know,

like stop again, and be like,

"You over there. Can you move that fan?

Uh-huh. Ooh! You're cute. Mmm.

Hmm!"

Oh.

Oh, yeah. Mm-hmm.

Baby, you are gonna miss that plane.

I know.

♪ Just in time ♪

♪ You found me ♪

♪ Before you came ♪

♪ My time was running low ♪

♪ I was lost ♪

♪ The losing dice were tossed ♪

♪ My bridges all were crossed ♪

♪ Nowhere to go ♪

♪ Nowhere to go ♪

♪ Now you're here ♪

♪ And I know where I'm going ♪

♪ No more doubt ♪

♪ No more fear ♪

♪ I've found my way ♪

♪ So let's live ♪

♪ Today ♪

♪ Anyway ♪

♪ Changed me ♪

♪ Changed me ♪

♪ Changed me ♪

♪ Once again ♪

♪ And changed my lonely nights ♪

♪ That lucky day ♪

♪ Hey-oh ♪