All language subtitles for Les Glaneurs et la glaneuse (The Gleaners and I).en

THE GLEANERS AND I

G as in gleaning -

To glean is to gather
after the harvest.

A gleaner is one who gleans.

In times past only women gleaned.

Millet's Glaneuses
were in all dictionaries.

The original painting
is at the Orsay.

Gleaning, that's the old way.

My mother'd say, '' Pick everything up
so nothing gets wasted''.

But sadly we no longer do

because machines
are so efficient nowadays.

But before, I used to glean

together with my neighbors,

for wheat, and rice too.

I would put my big apron on

and we'd go gleaning ears of wheat,

lovely ears we would find.

A whole day in the sun,
with gnats and mosquitoes biting,

it wasn't too nice,

but we liked it.

Evenings, we were exhausted. Once
home with our bags and our aprons

we'd have a good time laughing
and drinking coffee together.

I was born in that farmhouse,
and I'll die there too.

- But not quite yet!
- OK, thank you very much.

Thanks very much, all of you.

I'm mixed up,
you've confused me now.

Yes, I've always gleaned.

I remember, with my grandmother
and my brothers and sisters.

Before, during the war, they had
to glean, they were starving.

They pounded the grain
to make flour,

for bread.

We no longer pick these days,
we no longer glean to eat.

There are still
a few gleaners of corn around.

Gleaning might be extinct

but stooping has not vanished
from our sated society

Urban and rural gleaners
all stoop to pick up

There's no shame,just worries

Yeah, food, grub

It's bad, sad, man

To bend down is not to beg

But when I see them sway
My heart hurts!

Eating that scrap-crap

They've got to live on shit-bits

They've got to frisk for tidbits

Left on the street, leftovers

Rough stuff with no owners

Picking up trash like
the streetsweeper

Zero for us, for them much better

They got to roam around
to kill the hunger

It's always been the same pain
will always be the same game.

In the towns today
as in the fields yesterday

gleaners still humbly stoop
to glean.

But men have now joined
with women

in gleaning.

What strikes me is
that each gleans on his own.

Whereas in paintings

they were always
in clusters, rarely alone.

But there's a famous one

painted byJules Breton
at the museum in Arras.

We took the road north.

Lots of big trucks,
but I'll come back to that,

and we arrived in the town of Arras,

we saw its square,

we saw its museum,

and Breton's Woman Gleaning.

There is another woman gleaning
in this film, that's me.

I'm happy to drop the ears of wheat
and pick up my camera.

These new small cameras,

they are digital, fantastic.

Their effects are stroboscopic

narcissistic,

and even hyper-realistic.

No, it's not O rage,

no, it's not O despair,

it's not Old age, my enemy,

it might even be Old age, my friend
but still, my hair

and my hands keep telling me
that the end is near.

OK, right now,
we are driving towards Beauce,

renowned for its wheat.
The harvest being over

we'll focus on potato
gleaning instead.

Destalking the fields makes furrows

and ridges ready
for the grubbing machine.

Once the grubbing is over,

we can glean the whole field.

- Hello.
- Hello Mrs. Buard.

Since this morning,
I've collected a full 250 lbs alone.

And these are good ones
you eat with herring.

Lots of restaurants buy them.

Some people are quite pleased
when the machine malfunctions.

There are lots left here.

The tractor ploughs too deep
and gets stuck.

They free it by lifting the machine
and they miss potatoes there.

So gleaners have a field day?

Oh yes definitely.

The owners don't give a damn

so long as there's nothing left.

They won't have to treat.

You still must sort them.

In supermarkets,
the firm ones are sold

in containers of 5 1 /2 to 1 1 pounds,

and these have to be
of a specific caliber,

of a specific size.

So we dump anything bigger.

The potato harvest
averages 4,500 tons per season.

But 25 tons are rejected

and dumped.

We reject all the outsized,
green ones, and stones,

the cut or damaged ones.

Because they're unsellable.

To the trade, we sell potatoes

within a range of 2 to 4 inches

and anything bigger
is automatically thrown away.

Potatoes remain
a staple foodstuff for many

and because large quantities
of potatoes are dumped,

the practice of gleaning
has reappeared.

In general people wait nearby

and follow the trailers.

We followed the trailers
but didn't see anyone

except a man who might have known,

not through a newspaper though
for they never announce

dumping here tomorrow,
there next week.

Potatoes left in the open like that

soon become green
and dangerous to eat.

Sometimes the children give
the signal.

Hey, we found a big one here!

C'mon, catch it!

Monday, potatoes

Tuesday, potatoes

Wednesday, potatoes again

Thursday, potatoes

Friday, potatoes

Saturday, potatoes again

Sunday, potatoes au gratin

Look, I've picked up more or less

200 or 300 pounds.

You find very large ones
in the leftovers.

The damaged ones we leave.

Some are too small,
we take the large ones rather.

See,

misshapen ones,

heart-shaped ones.

The heart, I want the heart!

I was glad.

I immediately filmed them up close,

and set about filming
perilously with one hand

my other hand
gleaning heart-shaped potatoes.

Then I took a few home with me.

I looked at them again,
filmed them again.

Then it dawned upon me:
the Good Heart Charity Meals.

Why not organize an expedition

on the day the potatoes

are to be dumped?

When I think of all the food gone
bad that's enough to make me mad

If you've been kicked out
and you're down and out

Then you need food for nought

I take a few for me and my kids,

and we collect together.

I've joined the Charity Meals
because I was unemployed.

I still am but I expect
to start on a trial job soon

and meanwhile, I'd rather
help people than do nothing,

help people in dire straits.

I'm a single mother.

I get food from the Red Cross
and the Charity Meals.

When I see all this go to waste

and that some people
have nothing to eat,

it's really disgraceful.

On that day
they collected almost 7 00 lbs.

At least that's something.

A little later,
almost on the same spot,

we saw a man approaching.

I went over to him and asked him

how much he thought there was.

Almost a ton if you add
all the mounds together,

a ton of potatoes wasted.

Same thing with cauliflowers,

fruit and vegetables
in other regions,

but here it's potato country,
and we take what we find.

We're better off working
in the fields than shoplifting.

It's the same for all of us,
I'm not alone.

We get by as best we can.

We do potatoes,
we look in trash cans,

that keeps me going for now.

It's a hard life, that's all.

The year 2K is upon us, great, heh?

OK, I'm on my way with my 7 0 lbs,

and there are several tons left,
which could be picked,

but people don't know
where to come to. There you are.

They are hoboes in caravans.

We are gypsies, we travel around.
They're different from us.

It needs to be cut up
for the scrap merchant to come.

We don't have the necessary tools.
No electricity,just candles.

What do you do for water?

What?

Water?
That's all we have. It's over there.

That's our tap.

- What if it freezes?
- If it freezes...

we pad around the pipe,
or we let it drip

to stop it freezing
when it gets really cold,

like last year,
when it got to -7 0F on the ground.

You get used to it.

You seem to like beer?

I'd drink anything.

How many beers is that?

I drink a pack a day.

- What?
- Yeah, a pack of 2 4 a day.

2 4 or even 3 2.

Tell me what happened to you.

Did you have a house before?

Yeah, I had a job.

I worked impossible hours,

21 or 22 hours a day.

- Truck driving?
- Yeah.

- A trucker?
- Yes.

I drove long vehicles.

Then one day the police
breathalyzed me and then...

that's how I lost my job.

Then my wife left me,
she took my three kids with her,

and I was in free-fall after that.

Divorce, everything?

Yes, and I haven't seen my kids
for almost 2 years.

They're 500 miles away from me.

I can't go and see them.

I don't have a car or a license.

- It's terrible.
- Yes it is.

I think of them every single day.

- Here's Guilene.
- She'll tell you everything.

Did you know that once
they're through picking potatoes,

you're allowed to take leftovers?
- No.

You didn't know?

- It's not allowed.
- Yes it is!

I have something
very important to say:

Why has the Mayor put us here,
I've been here four years,

and now he wants us to go.

He says he was fed up
with us gypsies,

but I want to stay here.

I had an apartment
but it cost too much.

Her first trailer cost her $3 50

and the latest one,

where I am housed at the moment,
$3 5.

We met

when I was working
in a cafe as a cleaning woman,

that's how we met.

So long as there's welfare
money left, OK, but after...

we have to get by somehow.

Then we have to beg

and forage through the trash.

We find food in the garbage.

Good food?

We're badly off. We do find
good food. Which could still be

sold in shops. But they have to
change their shelves.

We take advantage of that,
it's a lucky draw.

But we have to comb
all the garbage cans everywhere

to recover stuff.

See for yourself.

For the soup!

My bunch of flowers!

- Another cucumber.
- Sure, there's plenty.

That comes from the trash.

The expiry date is 1 1 -29,
two days ago.

- One day ago.
- Right.

That's still valid for seven
or eight days, a week or so.

I've got fish which I found there.

It's good until 1 2-2 4.

We found it in the trash.

We're not afraid to get our
hands dirty. You can wash hands.

Hey, guys, the new appetizer

is lamb kidney in a chicory
root sauce

with a potato fritter

and an aniseed and nut soup

and mushroom mousse
with truffle oil.

As I watched all this cooking,

I asked the chef
if there were lots of leftovers, and

what he did with them.

Nothing should be wasted.

With the leftover lentils,
we make a lentil soup,

we mince the greenery into a gratin,

the meat bones we use for stock

the fish bones for sauce.

We don't throw anything away.

You have to be economical.

If I had to buy all the herbs
I pick daily on the hills...

A small bunch of savory
like this is $1 .50

and we use about 20
of them every day.

We'd be spending a fortune on herbs.

Anyway, I love picking them.

That nice inventive and thrifty chef

offers a gourmet menu for $1 00.

Edouard Loubet
is the youngest French chef

to have earned 2 stars
in the Michelin guide,

now called the Red Guide.

Surprisingly enough,
Edouard is also a born gleaner,

or rather a born picker.

With his hat on, in his shirt sleeves,
he looks like a Provencal figurine.

Don't tread on the apples!

We take what
the farmers leave behind

or we pick the ripe fruit
on the trees.

This is the best thing you can use

to make good spirits
or good fruit jelly.

I never miss the chance.

How come you, a chef, also pick?

Firstly because
my grandparents taught me to

along fields and roads,

and also because

I then know what produce I get
and where I get it from.

I don't want
refrigerated produce from Italy

which is sold only when someone
feels like saying it is ripe.

As we're talking grapes and wine...

Let's go, Isa!

...we might as well go to
a wine area.

We're off to Burgundy.

On the road,
there are trucks, lots of trucks,

of the kind we loved
when we were kids.

We pass them and gaze at them.

Here's a very big one
passing us, transporting cars,

and here's another one.

And now we are passing him,

we struggle a little
to pass this one.

It's like a child's game.

We're arriving in Burgundy.

Beaune to me
is above all the Hospices

and the painting by Van der Weyden,

The LastJudgment.

The Archangel Michael weighs
and judges the deeds of the dead.

The ones who are light
are to be resurrected,

and the heavy ones
are to suffer in hell.

The grape harvest is over,
and yet nobody is in sight.

Why is that?

If you want your wine
to be ranked as vintage,

the yearly production is limited.

That means you can only produce

a certain quota per plot.

Growing up, I didn't hear
much about pickers.

Wine growers have always
protected themselves against them,

for if you let people
pick in your vines,

how can you be sure they are not

going to pick on a large scale?

These vintage vines
have been entirely harvested

and the surplus has been
deliberately left on the ground.

They're drying out,
lost for everybody.

It's a measure to protect
our profession and capital.

What you see here,

is called second
generation grapes, verjuice,

or conscripts,
depending on the area.

Conscripts.

Like soldiers?

Exactly, like conscripts.
Some people pick them.

It's a second harvest
and yields a cheaper wine

called wine of the pickings.

- Will it taste of Pommard?
- No, not at all.

It makes a table wine,
a really cheap table wine.

The vintage wine region
is not a good one for picking.

Gleaning, or picking,
is forbidden in Burgundy.

It ended 3 or 4 years ago.

It's sad, but that's the way it is.

Gleaning was lovely.

We would see the gleaner,
tramping along,

Gathering the relics

Of that which is falling
Behind the reaper...

- Do you know?
- Du Bellay?

- Right?
- It is.

Impressive, you know it by heart!

I took over my father's estate.

From the grape to the bottle,

I am the only master on board.

I have no cellarman,
no head cellarman.

With Nadine, we choose the best
blends for our Chateau bottles.

- Do you both choose?
- We both do.

Jean Laplanche,

a keen wine grower,

has another calling, psychotherapy.

I am a practicing therapist,
but above all a theoretician,

or rather a philosopher of therapy.

What's your theory?

What distinguishes me,
is that I have tried to integrate

into man's psyche,

the Other above the Ego, i.e.
I developed an anti-ego philosophy,

a philosophy which shows
how man first originates

in the Other.

He copes with his double life?

- Rather well.
- He's good, isn't he?

- Rather well.
- He's intelligent, I think. And modest.

It keeps me going.

- Isn't it daunting for you?
- What is?

That he is a therapist
and makes wine too.

I was analyzed
so as to learn a little more.

- By him?
- No, by Lacan.

- Ages ago.
- I was very young.

A long time ago.

We'll be married 50 years

in the year 2000.

Tell me how you met.

At a village dance,
where most people meet.

- The kiss!
- Right...

No one's interested in that!

I must tell you something,

something the whole world
should know about.

I met him,
it was like a lightning bolt.

You see?

The way he was dressed,
I couldn't possibly miss him.

He had a red cap on, honest,

he was back from the Riviera.
He looked so...

He had a red cotton cap,

a green shirt,

mustard yellow pants,

rope espadrilles and...

- Yellow ones!
- Right.

And a multicolored belt.
I couldn't miss him,just couldn't.

How was she dressed?

That I can't remember.
Yeah, it's the old story.

But I didn't fall
for her right away.

It all came later with me.

How mean of me!

Is it true, Huguette?

- I'm not in his heart.
- It's true.

This is Laurent, my son.

A gleaner or a picker,
I'm not sure.

But I heard Glanum, not gleaning,

that's why I talked
about Saint-Remy, where Glanum is.

Gleaning, no.

Because gleaning is very different
from picking, you see.

But picking, yes.

What's the difference?

The difference is that
you pick fruit that hangs,

that is hanging,
but you glean things that sprout.

Like grain. It's different.

Olives and grain.

Almonds...

Figs too,
people make jams out of figs.

The fig, you pick.

Look, nature's wonders!

Overripe and beautiful!

That's fruit from heaven!

I half-feel like interfering,

but it is none of my business,
it's their fruit.

This one's almost
pure alcohol, I'll be tipsy.

Anyway, half the people are stingy.

They won't allow gleaning because
they don't feel like being nice.

There's a lot left.

The harvest is over now.

Are these not edible?

Edible, yes, but not good
for making candied fruits.

Do you allow people to collect them?

No. I'm not the owner, but up to now,
it's never been allowed.

The harvest of the cabbages is over,

only a few are left here and there.

These cabbages can be gleaned

with absolute impunity

by gleaners from Avignon or around.

Here are lovely tomatoes.

The machine couldn't take
what's too low.

All these tomatoes,

which are just as red
as my bible, the penal code,

all can be gleaned.

And it's not me,
it's the penal code that says so,

in article R-26.1 0. Here:

gleaning is allowed
from sunup until sundown.

First requirement.

The second requirement

is that gleaning
occurs after the harvest.

And here, we can clearly see
the harvest is over.

Paging through
an old law commentary

I happened upon a decree,

or rather an edict,
dated Nov. 2, 1 5 54

which says
just the same as the law today.

It allows the poor, the wretched,

the deprived, to enter the fields
once harvesting is over.

Old documents talk
of the poor, the destitute,

but how are we to consider
those who want for nothing

and glean just for fun?

It's as if they needed
something too.

If they glean for fun, it's because
they have a need for fun.

So if the requirements
and the times are adhered to,

they can glean as the poor used to.

Thank you.

Sure.
I'll take a walk in the cabbages.

I'll walk my small camera
among the colored cabbages

and film other vegetables
which catch my eye.

On this type of gleaning,
of images, impressions,

there is no legislation,

and gleaning is defined figuratively
as a mental activity.

To glean facts, acts and deeds,

to glean information.

And for forgetful me,

it's what I have gleaned
that tells where I've been.

From Japan, I brought back in
my case souvenirs I had gleaned.

I am back home, the cats are here,

there's mail,

one plant's died,
the others haven't.

Then I look at the leak
in the ceiling and the mold,

I got used to it.

I like it in the end.

It's like a landscape,
an abstract painting,

a Tapies,

a Guo Qiang,

a Borderie.

There's water dripping,

I open my suitcase.

Amazing,
in a department store in Tokyo,

on the top floor,

there were Rembrandt paintings,

original Rembrandts.

Saskia, up close.

And then my hand up close,

I mean, this is my project:

to film with one hand my other hand.

To enter into the horror of it.

I find it extraordinary.

I feel as if I am an animal,

worse, I am an animal I don't know.

And here's Rembrandt's
self-portrait,

but it's just the same in fact,
always a self-portrait.

Maurice Utrillo's

we saw in a very small museum

in the former City Hall of Sannois.

We were going

to film nearby, at Herve's,
alias VR99.

In the year 2000,
his alias will be VR2000.

'Loading up'

means retrieving
heavy objects people get rid of.

To do so,

town councils and city halls provide

small maps such as this one.

It shows all the streets,
the districts and the days

on which one can go
and pick them up.

I think the maps show
where to dump things rather.

Yes, right, well,

I read the map my own way because

that's where I find my raw material.

I am, among other things,
a painter and a retriever.

I prefer night time,

and because I go by bike,
I can only carry small things home.

It'll be easier if I show you.

I make images
from salvaged material,

frames from wood,

I use food packages, slates,

and then I also recycle

my own packets of cigarette paper,

and what's good about these objects

is that they have a past,
they've already had a life,

and they're still very much alive.

All you have to do
is give them a second chance.

All you need to do is
wander around, locate sites,

and then simply help yourself,
like in a real department store.

On site, you find heaps
of heavy objects,

it is best to get there quickly,

because the competition is fierce.

Objects go quickly.

They're like presents left
on the street, it's like Christmas.

When I was a kid, my grandfather
used to salvage things as well.

He made piles.

I've always liked
the world of dumps and salvage,

anything that's been
sort of discarded by society.

It's like a cavern here.

My own little cavern, that's right.

A place where I combine

objects differently.

I need to accumulate.

It's a shelter as well?

From what?

From emptiness.
Because it's full here.

I'm moving towards emptiness now,
or rather, towards lessness.

As much lessness as possible.

- You're still a long way away!
- I am.

Right now, I store up things

because I know
I will need to recycle some.

The encounter happens
on the street.

The object beckons me,
because it belongs here in a way.

The encounter also happens
on the road,

and it happened to us.

On our left, an abandoned factory.

On the other side, a sign '' Finds''.

''Curios'' is common,
but '' Finds'' is more inviting.

Hello, how are you?

Hello.

Turn and face me!
He won't.

I spotted some wheat behind
that chap,

and behind the robot,
I discovered a painting on gleaning.

It contained both

the humble stooping
of Millet's Glaneuses

and the proud posture
of Breton's Gleaner.

The painter
had an old dictionary at hand.

Honest, this is no movie trick,

we really did find these Glaneuses
purely by chance.

The painting had beckoned us because
it belonged here in this film.

On the road again, off to the
Ideal Palace of Bodan Litnanski,

a much visited,
much publicized place.

This retired brickmason came
from Russia

and started building totem towers

made of scraps he found in dumps

and brought back in his trailer
hooked up to his moped.

It's solid stuff,
you know, very solid.

I am a brickmason.

I like dolls, they're my system.

Dolls are characters.

What do you think of all this?

- He's an amateur.
- Sorry?

He's an amateur.

We can't stop him, we let him.

But your husband is an artist.

An artist, well, maybe...

Why not?

There's better than that.

- What?
- Better, much better than that.

Like Louis Pons, for instance,

who uses junk as an inspiration.

He draws through objects,

he accommodates chance.

All these objects around here

are my dictionary,

useless things.

People think it's a cluster of junk.

I see it as a cluster
of possibilities.

Each object gives
a direction, each is a line,

picked up here and there,

indeed gleaned,

and which become

my paintings.

The aim of art is to tidy up

one's inner and exterior worlds.

These are just crayons,
children's crayons.

Here we have tins and spools...

This is the tongue of a small bell.

I make sentences from things.

A cricket on a heap of trash.

Cages are interesting too,
a bit like boats, like violins

and things whose...

shapes at first are very simple
and the same,

but the possible variations
are infinite.

These are skirting boards
and frames.

There is a... from cars...

a windshield wiper.

But for me they are streaks.

I have to balance the streaks.

That's a statement.
Horizontal statements, nothing else.

Again one hand filming
the other hand, and more trucks.

I'd like to capture them.

To retain things passing?

No,just to play.

Noirmoutier is an island

renowned for its causeway
and its oysters.

People glean there

after rough storms
and very low tides.

Storms dislodge oysters
from their beds

and wash them ashore.

But they all know
that around Christmas time,

we are so busy
that we leave it to the gleaners.

They go as soon as

the storm has abated.

A high sea over the beds
is a pretty sight

but to profit from the low tide

gleaners need a copy
of the Tide Tables.

We come every year
for the lowest tide.

They're going to follow
the receding sea

and anything they find they pick up.

People collect the oysters
that have come loose.

In theory, they keep out
of the poles around the beds.

They must keep out.

They are too close.

Here the oyster farmers
let them carry on, but...

it degenerates sometimes.

We don't trespass!

The limit must be here, but...

we encroach a little sometimes.

We're not stupid.
We see others and do the same.

If they tell us anything, we scram.

It's tolerated
but not really allowed.

It's not downright illegal.

There still exists a right to glean,

provided people glean
1 5 yards from the beds.

- 25 yards away.
- Is it 25 yards now?

What are people allowed to do?

To collect up to 7 pounds each,
nothing more.

- 1 0 yards away minimum.
- Right.

1 1 pounds per person.

7 pounds of clams
and 1 1 pounds of oysters,

something like that.

1 1 pounds per person, I think.

Three dozen per person

but surely they take more than that.

They pick up small inedible oysters

that were churned
by the waves and are full of sand.

People from the mainland eat them,

and then say they get sick.

TheJura region was flooded.

The river Dard barred our route.

I liked it when
animals barred my way,

or I just stopped for them.

The Nenon family,
in the hills near Apt,

present a special case of picking.

The vineyard they found
was wholly abandoned.

That's a fully fledged harvest here!

Yes, the entire vineyard
was left unpruned last year.

An entire harvest
going to waste.

I spotted this place
and I was very intrigued by it.

Could anybody say anything?

- Don't the owners care?
- No. After Nov. 1 ,

we are allowed
to pick grapes in the vineyards.

If not, they're eaten
by wild boars or birds.

- Do wild boars like grapes?
- They love grapes.

On that day,

I filmed dancing pruning shears.

I forgot to turn my camera off,

which is why we get
the dance of the lens cap.

The cap has stopped its crazy jig.

We're off to see the only owner

who cares for his gleaners.

I warn children about the terrible
effects if they eat too much,

but I take for granted that the
adults know and I leave them alone.

Jerome Noel-Bouton

shows us an old photo of his vines

which used to be Marey's.

There is a mini-museum
in the cellar.

An engineer
and erudite physiologist,

Marey invented chronophotography.

He was a visionary.

He analyzed movement

before Muybridge and the Lumieres.
He is the ancestor of all movie makers,

and we're proud to be family.

Marey was my father's grandfather,
which makes him my great-grandfather,

and to be more specific,

my grandfather
was Marey's son-in-law, since...

his wife, my grandmother,
was Marey's daughter.

She married a man named Bouton

and this estate, which used
to be in the Bouton family,

was bought by Marey,

and returned to the Bouton family
when his daughter married a Bouton.

Congratulations!

The tower you can see over there,

he built with his own two hands

to house his still camera equipment.

He set up wires and waited.

Animals or birds went past,
triggering the camera.

That's the hut

from which,

with his chronophotographic rifle,

he broke down the flight of birds.

That's Demeny, Marey's assistant,

holding the rifle and the film reel.

I wonder who the boy
with a bowler hat is.

Marey's experimental pictures

and film bits,

technical prowess aside,
are pure visual delight.

Our train leaves Paris

and happens to slows down

as we pass
Ivry waste collection center.

The heart of our topic,

since we're going to Prades,
home of our musician Joanna.

She met youngsters
who had had a brush with the law

for damaging
the trash bins of a supermarket

because the contents
had been doused in bleach.

I thought I could film them
explaining the case

if I met all the protagonists -

the youngsters gathered
on the square,

the manager of the shop,

and the magistrate from the court,

who seemed concerned and polite.

I wanted to know how
these homeless

coped with the law.

Should squatting be legalized?

I could work on it,
if not for this robe.

But your robe is lovely!

It was a simple case
of youngsters vandalizing things.

I found them guilty of violence.

Before bleach was sprayed on?

They'd knock over the trash

and my staff had
to clean up after them.

That led me to apply the law

and bleach the trash,
which they didn't appreciate.

- We got angry.
- But nothing serious.

We knocked over trash cans,

and damaged the wall
with graffiti and tomatoes.

They broke the camera.

It was locked,
we had to climb a little.

They went over the fence.

They were trespassing
on private property.

Appearing in court
was itself a penalty

for these youths
who want to be free of all rules.

We only stole trash.

The aim isn't to fine them
but to remind them of the law.

They all played their part,
applying their own logic.

The kids said
what they were supposed to.

We filmed them with their dogs.
It was picturesque.

I'm not that antisocial.

- May I ask you how old you are?
- 22.

Their beauty is poignant when you
realize that, for whatever reason,

they get most of their food
from trash cans.

In court, I was told

it was a dialogue of the deaf,
but not of the dumb.

They seized the chance
to have fun.

I said she was mad,
she cited me for contempt of court.

We said she was out of her mind,
and she would go: Write it down!

Recorder, write down:
Out of her mind!

We felt it was a foregone
conclusion. It was sickening.

She opted for trial in closed court.
I shouted and slammed the door.

They're not through
talking about this episode,

and I'm not through thinking
about it in my hotel room.

We filmed and continue to film
people who hang around trash cans.

They have various reasons
for doing so.

Each experiences it differently.

- Hi!
- Here he is!

How are you?

Sit down, there's coffee for you.

We had been told: '' He wears

rubber boots.
He salvages everything''.

Yes, I live almost 1 00%
on things from the trash.

Everybody, rich or poor,

throws food away. Why?

Because we are so stupid with food!

If we're past the sell-by date
of a yogurt, people go:

''Oh my God, I can't eat this!

It'll kill me!''

So stupid.

It's easy

to tell from the smell of it
if it's OK or not.

It's quite simple, I've eaten
1 00% trash for 1 0 years now...

for 1 0 or 1 5 years,

I've never been ill.

- You don't have a job?
- I do.

I have a job, a salary,
a social security number.

So you are not forced to do that?

Absolutely not.

Salvaging is a matter
of ethics for me,

because I find it
utterly unacceptable to see

all this waste on the streets.

That proves we're heading for
disasters, like the Erika oil spill.

Oil Slick

Put the head on the right.

Looser...

Sea birds,

guillemots, razorbill penguins,

all those who were smashed up
real good by Total Fina Oil,

those who will get
smashed up real good

by this over-consuming society...
If they are cleaned,

the birds might still get caught
in nets,

it's for them that I'm an activist.

All the rest can die
in their apartments,

on their trash,
I don't care. Birds first.

Do you always wear boots?

Yes, rubber boots have 2 advantages,

on this hostile ground,
they're really good stuff.

There's a psychological aspect too,

with my boots,
I'm like the lord of this town.

All these idiots dump away,

I come after them
and rake in the chips.

Trash is Beautiful!

An exhibition featuring
demonstration trash cans

was organized to teach children

how to sort out the trash.

At Trash is Beautiful,
they like colors,

and children play with bits of junk.

This is just plastic
from the street.

Gino Rizzi is in charge
of the kids' workshop.

He himself transforms
pots of yogurt into flowers

and plastic bottles into mobiles.

Where does play end
and art start?

Cartier Foundation
for Contemporary Art

The American artist Sze

exhibits mobiles
made with lots of bits and pieces.

The kitchen trash
has made it to the art world,

where junk is highly-prized
and priced.

In any case, museum trash

is small, cute,
clean and colorful.

Have those kids ever seen
brooms in action,

or shaken hands with
a garbage collector?

- How are you?
- Fine.

That's neighborhood life.

I live here

at Mr. Charlie Plusquellec's,
because he's a friend.

More than a friend,

a protector, a godfather,
he's everything to me.

I am so very very happy,
very glad, I am here

surrounded by nature.

You see,

it's worse than paradise.

Salomon is a little bit
like a migrating bird.

He arrives, he moves in,

and then one day, he disappears.

And then he comes back again,
and then leaves.

So far he's been back 3 times.

Every day, I come out of here,

I wander around,

looking here and there
for throw-aways.

Don't touch anything!

- You hear me?
- Yes, Ma'am.

Don't you understand what I said?

Every morning, early,
you come across a little something.

It's like a lottery.

It's good.

There's lots.

Do you need it?

Wait, he might want some.

Want some bread?

I always come here and help myself.

Sometimes you get good cold meats,

sometimes fowl, a bit of everything.

Salomon found

chicken legs.

So I'll cook
the meat before it goes off.

You're going to eat
chicken and rabbit for a month!

No, don't worry.

We always find someone
to share with.

We give it to the neighbors,
the woman next door especially.

That's good.

Right now,

we have 1 , 2, 3,

4 fridges and 2 freezers

that we picked up and fixed.

I patch them up, I fix them,

and when the machine works
I sell it or...

I give it away to our neighbors.

Fridges are everywhere
on the streets.

Sometimes they work, sometimes not.

The Waste Ground artists
of Villeneuve sur Lot

collects fridges

and recycle them
as fully furnished, fitted spaces.

Fridge Demo

Free our comrades!

My neighbor the Lion of Denfert

is made of bronze.

My friend the Lion in Arles
is made of stone.

We got there in the early hours.

The people from the fair
were still asleep,

and I saw a man
looking at the river flow by.

I half-felt like talking to him.

Further on, along the Rhone,

in a blissful orchard

I saw gleaners arrive.

You can tell them

from their boxes,
sacks and plastic bags

which don't look anything like
the standard containers of the workers.

My name's David,
I'm a foreman at the Cape farm.

We often allow

gleaners to come in

after our pickers

provided they remain
1 0 yards behind.

Look, there's still
a lot left in the trees.

We just take advantage of this.

I collect them
so that they don't go to waste,

and I share them out,

we stew them or whatever.

I want to pick them because
there're lots left as you can see.

I don't take damaged ones,

because my children
are very particular.

They're used to getting the best.

This one is damaged
so I chuck it away.

We gleaners also discard some fruit.

Here's an apple
which has got nothing going for it,

it's like an ugly and stupid woman.

It's small and sunburnt.

Commercial value: zero.

We can't prevent people

from providing themselves
with apples

once we have finished harvesting.

So we proclaim
an official gleaning period,

we take car registrations down,

if it's a moped,
we ask for a Xerox of the owner's I D

and we tell them from when to when
they can come and collect.

Isn't it a bit over-regulated?

Well, it's either that
or nothing at all.

Once people are registered,

they can take 400 pounds, I don't
mind, even if it's a whole lot.

Good for them.

In this field of 3 hectares,

at least 1 0 tons
will be left unpicked.

That gives the gleaners
quite a lot of exercise.

You have to find them
behind the trees, under the leaves.

It takes a while
to fill up a basket.

Picking is not a piece of cake,
it's hard work.

Quite a few have fallen here.

You just have to pick them up.

Robert, a gleaner of many crops,
let us follow him.

I'm looking for pine nuts.

You're really thorough!

Right, I really don't
let anything go by.

In this greenhouse,
the tomato harvest is over.

We pick the remains
before they clean the place.

Here, see the tomatoes...

That's nature,
it shouldn't be wasted.

It's abandoned.
Once the harvest is over,

it's not worth
hiring people just for those.

They'd rather let us do it.

Can anybody go in the greenhouses?

No, not the greenhouses.
I don't know what the law is.

Greenhouses are a facility
to grow vegetables.

Once the harvest is collected,

there's some left, a few tomatoes,
grapes, carrots or celery.

If gleaners remain within the law

farmers can't say anything,

can't sue them for anything.

Even on their property?

Even then, precisely,

gleaning is always
on private property.

Mr. Dessaud, our lawyer in the fields,
explained gleaning rights.

Mrs. Espie, our lawyer in the streets,
tells us about salvaging rights.

The law on gleaning
doesn't apply to these objects.

'' Res derelictae''

are ownerless things,

since the owner's intention
has been clearly expressed:

they have deliberately
abandoned them.

Only the penal code
deals with their status

and says this property can't be
stolen since it has no owner.

Those who take the object
become its legal owners.

This acquisition is unusual,
since it comes from no one.

Once taken,
the object belongs to them

irrevocably.

Thank you very much.

You're welcome.

Yeah. Sidelined beds on the sidewalk

Washed-out machines,
tired-out fridges

just bend down
and grab your furniture

Yeah. Cookers,
cushions, club armchairs

Weary wood chairs and TVsets,
Worn-out couches

just bend over,you're made over

Street rehab and TVrap,yeah,yeah!

Broken TVs

I've seen lots ofTVs abandoned,

and within a few minutes

somebody was taking out the copper.

It's the copper
from the deflector coils.

I looked at the magic screen
thinking I began this film

right after the eclipse shown on TV,

continued while the countdown
to Y2Kwas shown on TV,

and ended the film
on the 1 st of May...

Other people

take TVs home,
hoping to repair them.

I found 2 small chairs on the street
and took them home.

One night when the bulky refuse
is thrown out,

I drove around with Francois
who had done one of my film scores

and who also sang.

He has dressed
in white for 25 years.

Francois is curious,
he likes rummaging,

but he didn't find anything
that night.

He looked at an empty clock

and he turned it down.

I picked it up and took it home.

A clock without hands
is my kind of thing.

You don't see time passing.

I like filming rot,
leftovers, waste,

mold and trash.

But I never forget

those who shop in the leftovers
and trash when the market is over.

It's past 2 o'clock.

I've done my shopping
and I linger on

until the market is over.

I notice a man with a large bag
eating on the spot.

I would see him now and then,
always with his bag,

always eating.

The day he was eating parsley

I went over to him.

Do you often eat parsley?

Sometimes yes. Parsley's
full of vitamin C and E,

beta carotene, zinc,
magnesium, it's excellent.

His answer amazed me.

Over the following weeks,
I filmed him

repeatedly, with or without sound,
and he talked in snatches.

I pick up food at the markets

and I save money that way.

I'm mostly a vegetarian,

so I find what I need.

I don't make much,

but I still have to eat.

You should see what
they get rid of...

From the markets, I get fruit,

vegetables mostly,

sometimes cheese too,
but that's rare.

I eat a lot of apples.

And here I can get
as many apples as I want.

- How many apples a day do you eat?
- 6 or 7.

Is it your staple diet?

I also eat bread.

I get up at 4, I take the train

and I arrive in Paris at 5:45.

Between 6 and 7,

they throw away all of the bread
from the day before.

If you spot
a trash can near a bakery

it's likely
to contain sandwiches, bread,

and all that.

I eat a lot of bread. It's a staple
food full of proteins and glucids.

It's strange to be concerned...

- About balanced diets?
- Yes.

Since I studied biology,

it's quite normal
I should be concerned.

I used to be a teaching assistant.

When people find out
I have a Master's degree,

they don't understand why
I sell papers to make money.

I sell street papers or magazines.

Most times in front
of the train station.

I live in a shelter where 50%

of the people are illiterate.

Immigrants from Mali
and Senegal mostly.

I arrived in that shelter
8 years ago,

and I've been teaching them
to read and write for 6 years.

I am not part of the school system,
I don't get paid for it.

I teach every evening
from 6:30 / 7:00

until 8:30 / 9:00.

He arranged
and decorated the classroom himself

for the students who may attend
whenever they please.

Ac, ec, ic, oc...

And see, for example,

a noc-turnal ac-tivity.

Right, a nocturnal activity.

What does ''nocturnal'' mean?

Success? Success is...

Isn't success like a behavior?

It's to succeed in life.

Somebody who has succeeded.

- Like Celine Dion has?
- Right.

Famous?

But it's more like the will to...

Succeed.

Yes, when you've succeeded,
that's success.

A use-ful... in-sect.

What's that?

A cockroach.

I don't know if it is useful but...

but it is an insect.

Meeting that man

is what impressed me the most.

And the time it took
to find out about his nocturnal

and voluntary activity
in a suburban basement.

The other high point
is quite different in kind.

I talked the Museum of Villefranche

into bringing out from its reserves

a painting by Hedouin

which I had seen
reproduced in black and white.

Brigitte, the curator,
and her assistant,Julie

had to disturb
several sleepy paintings

before finding the one
I wanted to reveal:

Gleaners Fleeing Before the Storm.

To see them in broad daylight,

with stormy gusts
lashing against the canvas,

was true delight.