All language subtitles for Au.revoir.la-haut.2017.FRE.RUS.br.1080p.x265.exkinoray.XQ2-ENG

♪Subtitles by♪ XQ2☻♥

For Alain de Greef

For Marcel Gotlib

Morocco, November 1920

Name, date and place of birth.

Albert Maillard. May 16, 1872.
Rue Ordener, Paris.

- Son of?
- Yvette Maillard. Laundress.

- And?
- Unknown.

- Profession?
- Bookkeeper.

- Service record?
- Mobilized, June '16. Territorial Reserves.

- At your age, you saw active combat?
- The Somme, July '16.

Chemin des Dames '17 (Aisne)

August '18, we were all on active duty.

And I found myself on Côte 113
with a bunch of kids.

- Côte 113*? (Hill 113)
- Our position at the armistice.

- When did you meet Edouard Péricourt?
- There, on Hill 113.

And at that battle you first envisaged...

your "collaboration"?

It's a long story. Complicated.

We have time.

[SEE YOU UP THERE]

Adapted from the novel by
Pierre Lemaitre, Prix Goncourt 2013

It all started on November 9, 1918.

Rumors of an armistice were rife,
so we all kept a low profile.

By everybody I mean the Germans too.

Nobody felt like shooting anyone, anymore.

Dying last is even dumber
than dying first.

Lieutenant?

The only one who disliked this
was our lieutenant, Pradelle.

He liked war. It was his thing.

He scared us even more than the Germans.

[Cessation of hostilities imminent.
Await further orders]

[November 9, 1918]

[LONG LIVE DEATH]

Sergeant.

Lieutenant!

Reconnaissance mission.

But, Lieutenant...

the Germans are expecting
it to end, like us.

Should be no worries, then.

Thérieux and Grisonnier.

Thérieux! Grisonnier!

He chose the oldest, Grisonnier,

and the newest terrified kid,
young Thérieux.

Reconnoiter their front line.

- Execute the order.
- You heard the lieutenant!

A reconnaissance mission
in broad daylight!

The order was absurd.

So?

So? Orders are orders!

[Dear Cécile]

Grisonnier and Thérieux,
shot like rabbits.

Just after, as if by design

our 75s laid down a barrage.

Of course, the Germans riposted.

Fix bayonets! To the ladders!

Then we went over the top, enraged.

Attack! Attack!

Don't budge, don't budge!

Advance! Advance, men!

Allez!

Thérieux...

Grisonnier...

Shot in the back.
Get it? In the back.

By Pradelle.

He had killed them.

And there, I died!

You died?

Figure of speech.

I came to, in a hole
with a dead horse.

Just when I couldn't breathe,
anymore, he saved me.

Stretcher!

Stretcher!

Bitte. Bitte. Aidez.

Please. Help.
Bitte. Aidez.

The war's still on.
Es ist noch der krieg.

Give him morphine, Sister, please.

Morphine has terrible consequences.

What's more terrible than that?

Have courage.

He, too, suffered.

Monsieur Péricourt.

It's for you, Monsieur Péricourt.

[Mama]

[Asshole]

[Asshole]

[Asshole]

I say! You slept like a log.

That stuff really works.

Hope you don't mind...

I looked at your drawings.

They're great.

Your drawings are bizzarre,
but I like them.

Out of the ordinary, yet true.
Weird, huh?

What do you want?

Show me.

The window? Window?

Hey, lunchtime.

- Your friend looks sleepy.
- Not really.

Just resting a bit, that's all.

Easy...

Be back in an hour.

As if that was good news,
"Back in an hour"!

I requested your transfer.
They said you leave in the morning.

Don't worry.

You'll go to a hospital in Paris:
to a specialist.

They'll fit a prosthesis.
Afterwards you'll hardly notice.

No? You don't want a prosthesis?
Edouard...

You can't go home like that.

You don't want to go home?

What do you want?

The drawings? Sketchbook?

[I don't want to see my father]

He'll love you, all the same!

He'll be glad you're back.
Even if your face is a bit messed up.

Stop it! Stop!

That hurt.

You want me to kill you.

Edouard...

For 4 years you did anything to survive,
now the war's over you wanna disappear?

Lots of guys never went home
after the war: presumed killed in action.

But they'd simply been
'killed in the archives'.

Edouard wanted me to
kill him in the archives.

On the list for November '18

I'd surely find many whose families
hadn't been informed.

Recently dead. Freshly dead, so to say.

I just needed a man nobody would claim.

And I found a guy who'd been
raised on Public Assistance

Eugène Larivière. Perfect.

Public Assistance doesn't care
about them while they're alive,

let alone dead.

So, Edouard Péricourt died
Nov. 9, '18, on Hill 113.

While Eugène Larivière,
well... got better.

Larivière. Got it? Eugène Larivière!

Hey, careful with Eugène, guys!

Here, it's him,
he has his transfer permit.

Get lost, don't you have better to do?

Here's his military service book.
Eugene Larivière.

His morphine, 6 vials.
They better all be there on arrival!

Instead of a kiss on the cheek.
You know what I mean.

- We gotta leave, soldier.
- Alright, alright!

Bye, Eugène! Bye, Eugène!

Then, I wrote a letter to his family.

I didn't want them to find out
by official army letter.

An army letter is never good news.

So I wrote a letter, myself.

A pretty good one, I thought.

Dear Madame/Monsieur,
my mame is Albert Maillard.

I'm a comrade of Edouard's.

With immense sadness, I inform you
that he died in combat on Nov. 9, '18.

Army Administration has likely
informed you officially.

But I can tell you he died a hero,
as he charged the enemy

in defense of our nation.

He was formidable.

Edouard left me his sketchbooks
--he loved drawing--

to send to you,
if anything happened to him.

And as something did happen to him,
here it is.

Edouard rests in peace
in a lovely, tranquil, little cemetery.

He's in a fine spot.

Respectfully, Albert Maillard.

This one is offered by the state.

It's soft and light.

With or without moustache,
if you choose.

Admire the elegance.

This is an old model prosthesis...

Spectacularly durable materials.

The operations still to come
will be hard on you

but will bring very good results.

From this to this, in one year.

From this to this,

in two years.

This surgery is magnificent!

I'm here to repair you.

[BULLSHIT]

I also wrote to Cécile, my fiancée

to tell her I'd been demobbed
and I'd soon see her again.

None too soon.

It was already March,
the war had ended in November.

What's wrong? Got a problem?

Hey, I'm talking to you!
Got a problem with my photo?

Not a good likeness.

- 'Course, it was taken before.
- Before what?

- Before the war! - You went?
- Sure, or I wouldn't be here!

- Lot of gatecrashers around.
- To go to war?!

There's gatecrashers for everything.

'Tenn-hut!

At ease.

Wait.

He's not leaving yet.

What?

Come with me.

Mademoiselle is interested in one of
your comrades killed in combat.

My name is Madeleine Péricourt.
I'm Edouard's sister.

Mlle Péricourt wishes to pray
at her brother's grave

but doesn't know where he's buried.

Is it far from here?

Mlle Péricourt asked if it's
far from here, Maillard.

By the time we get there,
it'll be dark.

You wanna pray at night?

Mlle Péricourt may pray
whenever she wishes,

- don't you agree?
- Of course. - Good.

You'll lead the way and we'll follow.

I'll accompany you, Mademoiselle,

Don't budge, Maillard.

I figured they wanted to recover the body.
But it was impossible.

It was forbidden for bodies to be
moved from the battlefield, by law.

But that wouldn't stop Pradelle.

What's this I hear, Maillard?

Your comrade Péricourt is dead?

Last time I saw him, despite
a dental problem, he was alive, no?

He saw everything on Hill 113.

If anything happens to me,
he'll talk, he'll write.

Even though he's supposed to be dead?

30 km from here, is Pierreval cemetery.

The biggest and best stocked.
An enormous choice.

Find me a corpse for his sister
and we'll call it even.

Let's hit the road, Private Maillard.

Yes, sir.

Here it is!

Here!

Excuse me...

I'd like to see him, please.

I'll arrange it.

So?

Let's see what he looks like.

A Senegalese rifleman!

Oh, look, Snow White, asleep
in the Péricourts' vault!

Pradelle dissuaded her from
looking at her brother.

And then?

They hauled away the corpse.

By now, he must be
in the Péricourts' cript.

[♪ Aux Halles: 1916 Georgel]

♪ Il est minuit et Paris en toilette

♪ Sort des théâtr's, cinés ou casinos,

♪ Les uns s'en vont souper, faire la fête,

♪ Tandis qu' les autr's regagnent leur dodo.

♪ Au milieu de cette cohue,

♪ S'mêlant aux taxis, aux autos,

♪ Des chars pleins d'choux, d'carott's, d'laitues

♪ Descend'nt le long du Sébasto.

♪ Aïe donc Cocott' s'écrie le maraîcher,

♪ Faut arriver les premiers au marché.

♪ Tout autour des Halles

♪ Lorsque descend la nuit

I took a flat in Paris.

Since the bank wouldn't re-hire me,
I took what I could.

It was no real problem.

After 2 years in the trenches,
I wasn't hard to please.

Then I found Edouard again.

Being dead, of course, he couldn't go home.

Edouard...

My big problem was morphine.

What with the war-wounded all around,

it was everywhere, but not free.

So what did you do?

The only thing war had taught me
was to fight men who'd done nothing to me.

So for the morphine, I did the same.

- I'm ashamed. - Why?
- They were veterans.

- Veterans? - Yes, veterans like me,
except they were disabled.

They were issued morphine
at the hospital

but preferred to sell it and eat,
not keep it and starve.

I preyed on them.

Won't you start drawing again?

Look.

I got you paper, an old easel

and gathered up all your materials.

[Dampierre Military Cemetery
A place of quiet dignity]

Look here, monsieur!

The mud in your cemetary
reminds me of the trenches.

You wouldn't understand.
He would.

- Exactly. Who is he?
- Pardon?

Ernest Blachet, Brigadier, 133rd Regiment.

Died for France, September 4, 1917.

In plot E-13. Simon Perlatte,

2nd class, 6th Army.
Died for France, June 16, '17.

- So?
- What do you mean "so"?

Your crews have mixed up the
placement of the coffins, M. Pradelle.

Why would my Chinese guys do that?

Because they can't read, M. Pradelle!

Because for this kind of work
you employ people

who cannot read!

You can't read?

I don't understand what you're saying.
Wo tingbudong ni shuode shenme.

You're right, these assholes can't read!

But what could it matter, hm?

What?

When families visit

they won't dig up the grave
to verify that it's their dead body.

Hold on! Monsieur,

we owe our respect to these dead men.

You owe them respect?

Explain why, for 2 months,
in this commune's cemetery,

you've let illiterates bury them
any old how?

I didn't give them any orders,
your workers did this job themselves!

But you've been delegated military
authority to supervise burials, no?

- A mayoral official comes twice a day.
- You have no military oversight?

That's understood.
He's from the Mayor's office.

- It's the same thing, sir.
- Not really, no.

No, in fact, it's not the same thing.

Here's what I propose.

For the repose of our dead
and in respect of their memory,

I propose that all this
remains among ourselves.

Good bye, messieurs.

Then, I found a job at the 'Bon Marché'.
As an elevator operator.

First floor. First floor.

There I ran into Cécile, my fiancée.

I realized why she didn't reply
to my letters.

She was with her dandy happily carrying packages and emracing him.

When she realised the clown
operating the elevator was me,

she must've thought
she'd made the right choice.

Second floor.

Second floor.

Thank you.

Go away.

Go away!

Thank you.

[WE WANT TO PAY HOMGE
TO OUR DEAD!]

Monsieur Péricourt.

I want to see Monsieur d'Aulnay-Pradelle.
Alone.

Certainly, sir.

President, what brings you here?

An excessive growth index.

How can a growth index be excessive?

When it's illegal.

For an enterprise that's only been in existence one year
a clear profit of 1 million...

I don't think that million's very clear.

President, we're talking about business, not virtue.

I won't be tarnished by your schemes, Henri.

What are you talking about...

Marcel?

Monsieur President?

Come on, old boy.

One last effort.

A doctor. Get a doctor! Quick!

Call a doctor!

It's President Péricourt.

What's wrong?

I don't know, we were talking calmly
and he just collapsed.

I think it might be too late.

Dr. Bernard?

Where's Dr. Bernard?

Péricourt, old boy, what's happening?

- Well...
- For Compiègne,

18,000 coffins. 5,000 for Laon.
6,100 for Colmar

and 33,000 for Verdun.

Easy.

Easy!

A really lovely day!

Hello.

[How do I look?]

Incredible.

You're beautiful.

You're beautiful!

Yeah...

Come.

Ta-da!

- Can I pick it up?
- It's for you.

I'll never know what it name was.

Albert.

The drawings?

You started again?

Can I have a look?

Ah it's... It's...

[ADVANCE INTO COMBAT!]

What is it?

These aren't your drawings.
What's this stuff?

"Here, as everywhere,

"in towns and villages,

"schools, even train stations,

"everyone wants their monument to the fallen."

So?

He says, "It's for us!"

- You wanna sell monuments to the dead?
- No!

He says, "No, to the living."

That's good. Beautiful. Lovely

But... it's complicated.

Yes! It's not enough to design them.

Once sold, you have
to assemble and transport them.

It takes money, lots of money.

He said: "We don't make them,
you dope, we only sell them!"

Once they're sold, they have to be made.

He says, "We just sell them."

Now, he's laughing.

Yeah, I got that.

Then what?

He says: "We take the money and run!"

- You're crazy. - No.
- You're crazy. - No.

He says:
"Banal + ugly + expensive = success!"

Maybe, but I don't like prison.

He says: "You're already in prison."

B-b-but... this is serious.

Robbing municipalities,
robbing the state: that's sacrilege!

He says: "THAT's what he WANTS to do!"

Even worse! It'd mean a
penal colony or the scaffold!

You may not care for your own head,
but I'm attached to mine!

- He says, he'll help you.
- Help me?

Help me?
When did you ever help me, huh?

Don't look at me like that!

I was just fine in my hole!
I never asked you for anything!

I was resting in my hole!

The last 6 months,
who's been taking care of you?

Who keeps you warm,
houses you, feeds you?

Who fights drug dealers
to procure your fix?

Who saved you from Pradelle?
Who killed you in the archives, huh?

6 months, I've been chained to you,
and you come up with this?!

You're worse than the war!
Do you hear, worse than the war?

Stop!

Stop it!

Stop it!

Father?

Dr. Blanche says it's not serious.

Do you know why I fainted?

Today is the 9th of November.

The anniversary of his death.

I'd forgotten.

His name isn't even on the family vault.

Of course, he's not supposed to be there.

There's nothing left of him.

Yes, there is.

- I'm sorry.
- No...

It's a good likeness.

His signature.

- It's a self-portrait, actually.
- Mm.

One of his comrade-in-arms sent me
all these drawings.

Albert Maillard.

Perhaps we could...

- Invite him?
- Mm.

That's a good idea.

And he left.

Where to, I don't know.

How would he cope without his morphine?

I didn't really know the guy.

I didn't get his stupid scam
about monuments to the fallen.

He was incapable of seeing the
difference between dreams and reality.

Then, I found an even dumber job.

Do you wonder what time it is?
I check my watch...

and see Lip Lip Hurrah.
The victory watch!

For the ladies, Raviba stockings:
strong, long and very silky.

Alright.

Tell me more about your plan
to make monuments.

How do you envisage it?

He says: "First, publicity."

"Publicity for death."

"Then we make catalogues,
send them out all over...

"and then, we wait!"

What do I do?

He says, "You find the money

"to make the catalogues."

I find money to make catalogues?!

He says: "It's not much money."

"Get going or you'll be late!"

Late for what?

Magnificent!

Thanks.

- Ready?
- Yes!

Is it the moon?

No... a lady.

Oh, it's two people!

"The Kiss".

Wow!

- What's this?
- It's a drop of water.

A rain drop.

A windmill.

- What makes it turn?
- The wind?

Right. The wind.

It's for pee-pee!

- It's someone!
- Someone?

He pushes a cart.
He carries signs like this.

"It's not fair.

"Why do I have to get the money?"

- Albert!
- You got it!

It's Albert!

Monsieur Maillard?

Do you recognize me?

Madeleine Péricourt.
We met at the station.

Your address was on the envelope.

Your old landlady
told me where to find you.

My father wants to meet you.

Why me?

Because you were there during
my brother's last moments.

Would you consider it?

Yes.

Really?

Yes.

- Dinner tomorrow at 7?
- Yes.

Near the Champs Elysées.
No. 28, just across from the metro.

Yes.

My father doesn't know the details,
you understand.

Yes.

- Thank you M. Maillard.
- Yes.

Yes.

Monsieur, the mayor of
the 8th arrondissement.

Thank you, Pauline.

My dear fellow!

To what do I owe? (This visit)

So, what is it you wish? Tell me.

Your commemorative monuuments
project: how's i going?

Ah, is that it?

Well, to tell you the truth...

Tell it all, eh?

Alright. We got nowhere.

Excuse my language, but
the damn things cost a bundle.

And there's no more money.

So, it all rests on
popular subscriptions.

We're not gonna erect
some lame, modern

Brancusi or Zadkine type of thing

because it'd be a catastrophe
with the electorate.

But, Monsieur President,
why do you ask?

I'm offering to fund
your monument entirely.

But Monsieur President...

Find a nice spot.
Have it cleared, if need be.

Assemble a jury,
hold a competition,

but I'll choose.

I want it inaugurated with
the engraved names

of all the war dead,
born in this arrondissement

You got that? ... All!

Monsieur le President...

All

He says: "♪♪"

He says: "heh, heheheh!"

He says: "You going to see Cécile?"

Yes.

He says,
"I hope she's become short-sighted."

Oh, good evening.

Albert Maillard. I'm expected for dinner.

You're invited for dinner?

Yes. This is the Péricourt house?

Yes.

Well, I'm expected for dinner.
Albert Maillard.

Oh, pardon. Excuse me.

No harm done.

May I take your coat?

I don't have one.

- Excuse me.
- No harm done.

- My hat, if you like.
- Yes.

Follow me.

- Please take a seat.
- Thank you.

Madame will come soon.

I'll be home late, tonight, cherie.

Yes, a meeting. Yes.

Good evening.

Coming, coming!

Ah, there you are!
Pauline said you'd arrived.

My father's eager to meet you.

- Actually, I don't feel so well...
- 'Evening

Have a seat, please.

'Kyou

'Kyou

So, you knew him well?

- Who?
- Edouard.

Oh, yes. Sure, I knew him well.

We went through the war together.

That creates a bond.

Tell me a bit about him.

Who?

Edouard.

Of course.

Well... Well...

He was...

He was very brave.

Very brave.

On the battlefield.

He was always first
to lead the assault.

He was a...
real lion on the battlefield.

The Germans were scared.
He was very brave.

Once, he unearthed a dead man...

who was revived.

Do you know if...

if he did any more... drawings?

He doesn't draw any more.
I mean 'didn't'.

I'm sure, wherever he is,
he's still drawing.

Making the good Lord happy.

It didn't interfere with his fighting.

I didn't see this, but apparently,
once during an assault, he painted.

We were winning, but still...

your Edouard and his easel,
under the shelling...

...he was painting. Painting, yes!

Did he talk about his family?

All the time. So much so, that...

when I arrived in this house,
I felt as if I'd always known it.

The very lovely facade, the...

The staircase... also very lovely.

Anyway, he'd tod me, but there, I... I...

Lovely. Voila!

Very lovely.

You...

Very sweet and very gentle,
he used to say.

You...

- Very lovely?
- No.

A bit stern, but fair.

Fair.

How did he die?

A bullet to the head.
In the attack on Hill 113.

As I said, he was very courageous, he...

It's, it's... It's not true.

It's not true.

Not true. In fact...

Come, my boy.
Some dinner will do you good.

What line are you in?

At the back of the line.

No, I mean your work.

I'm in advertising.

Actually, I'm a bookkeeper.

But after the armistice,
I lost my old job.

So, now I do publicity.

The sector...

is an interesting one:
public relations.

Thank you.

It's good.

The maid will see you out.

- Thanks.
- Thank you

Say, Monsieur Maillard...

Yes?

You're a bookkeeper you say?
Yes.

It just so happens we need
bookkeepers.

- The nation must invest and there
are many opportunities. - Really?

If you accept a posting with us,

we'll offer you the best conditions.

- I... I don't know...
- Take your time, think it over.

No problem. Good night.

Thank you.

*Academy of Art

Any news from your family?

He says:
"Families rarely contact their dead."

'Course. That's not what I meant...

They may be very sad you're dead.

Even your father
may be sad you're dead.

Okay, don't get upset.

- "Worry about getting the money."
- Exactly.

You told me they're very rich.

Maybe we could rob them?
For the catalogue money.

Yeah. We send Louise
to your house, which must be lovely.

And by you instruction

she'll swipe silverware or a painting.
And that's how

we get the money for
the catalogues. - No!

He says no.

He says, in his family,
the only thief is his father.

If you say so.

I'll go look for money, then.

"Yeah."

I accepted the job from M. Péricourt.

- And...
- And?

I started stealing from him.

I'd read the clients' faces.

War profiteers have
the face of a winner.

They were my favorites.

60,000...

I chose a classic scam,
called The Bridge of Sighs.

The client drops off 60,000.

You deposit 40,000 and keep 20,000.

[DEPOSITED]

Sign here.

And you do the same
with all the rest.

26,000.

[Twenty-two, thou...]

- 27,000.
[Seventeen th...]

- 30,000.
[Twenty thou...]

- 23,000.
[Sixteen thou...]

I had the cash for only 3 days.

Why 3 days?

The advantage of working in a big bank
is tha nobody will notice a thing

until the reconciliation statement.

Between share portfolios,
payments, loans and mortgages

takes at least 3 days.

So, I have 3 days before my entries
are compared with receipts.

Once a clean account is verified
I tap into into it and credit one I'd stolen from.

But it's a high-speed chase
with the comptrollers.

Hence the name "Bridge of Sighs";
it's exhausting.

Just write down "bank fraud".

No, I mean, it was...

money for the catalogues.

I told Edouard I found a job.
He didn't ask questions.

As all rich people, he found it
quite normal to find work.

[ATTACK!]

[THE MOTHERLAND THANKS HER SOLDIER]

[FORWARD INTO COMBAT]

[JOY IN COMBAT]

[THANKS FOR EVERYTHING]

[PROUD TO DIE]

[ORPHAN CONTEMPLATES SELF-SACRIFICE]

- That's you!
- Yes!

[PATRIOTIC SOUVENIR]

Who's this Jules d'Epremont?

- "Nobody."
- Nobody?

"A so-called member of the Institute.
No one will check him out."

Thanks.

I'd like to say the same.

My hand.

*Article 4.

The chosen artist
must have been French for at least

3 generations

or, failing that, be a war veteran.

If a Senegalese or an Indochinese
wins I think we should accept him.

We'll pay him less, that's all.

Article 5.

If the artist is a disabled victim

of the violence of war,

he may be assisted,
even if the artist blind.

I'm not sure about that,
but we can't appear to exclude anyone.

The probability that
a blind man wins is...

Move on, to the next.

Article 6.

The monument will be built in Paris

and furthermore by a French company.

If you wish, I can add:

"Priority will be given to
Péricourt enterprises."

No need, I'll be paying for it, anyway.

Of course! Silly me.

Yes.

Article 7.

The monument's dimensions
must be in harmony with the chosen site. No?

We're hesitating between razing
an old orphanage or a garage.

The garage, Labourdin.

Preference to raze the garage.
I bow to your wish.

Articl 8.

The artist must provide, on his work,

a space, sufficiently large to display

in a legible and clear manner,
the names of...

ALL the war victims,

born in the 8th arrondissement.

And finally, article 9.

The total sum for the design and
construction of the monument

shall be... this is where you come in,
M. President.

Put down 150,000 francs.

150,000 francs?

Want me to write 150,000 francs?

Very well. Very well.

[COMPETITION]

Right... I'll send these off.

On the way back,
I'll check our postal-box.

Yeah... I hope you're wrong.

For several months,
practically no response.

Then, shortly before July 14 (Bastille Day),

there was a patriotic frenzy.

All the orders came in at once.

Incredible!

I thought people were stupid.
But not to that point.

In order to screw Péricourt,
I opened a Patriotic Souvenir account.

which I signed, Jules d'Epremont.

Then I went to get the money.
It was a lot of money.

There's this.

This... Ah!...

This too.

After the drug dealers' attack,
I got a gun.

But it was just to protect
MY money.

Oh yes, our affair's not doing too bad.

What do we do? Monuments:
design and construction.

- What? Exploiting the dead?
- You know, the artist and I were in that war.

Erecting a monument is a way of saying
goodbye to our comrades. You see?

♪ Un soir je me faisais
une pleine eau

♪ Pour tout maillot
j'avais la peau

♪ Nul ne pouvait me voir
que le ciel noir

I told Edouard we'd skip town
on July 14 Bastille Day

while everyone was busy
celebrating the war.

He looked agreeable.

We take the money and run.

I also told him that
it'd be best to go to Africa.

Here too, he seemed to agree.

He just wanted to take Louise along.

Mme Belmont earned some cash
by fostering Louise, a war orphan.

Mme Belmont wasn't keen
on letting her go.

So I bought Louise.

I had the means.

He asked if he can take some?

Sure, Edouard, it's your money.

Fill it up. Fill it.

Put in more!

Overfill it!

Goddammit, Edouard! All those bills!

- He said: "What's this perfume?"
- What perfume?

"There's perfume on your jacket."

Perfume on my jacket?

There's no perfume.

Yeah.

- It's his sister's perfume.
- It's my jacket, my perfume.

Slightly feminine, I admit.

But it's my perfume.

He said, "It's a perfume made
exclusively for her."

She must've lost the exclusivity.
What can I say?

Don't look at me like that.

I come back from Paris
smelling of perfume.

So what? I must've seen your sister?!

Hey, easy on the jacket!

It's expensive.

Is that Pradelle?

I told you he was scum.

Edouard...

I was scared for Edouard
I went to the Péricourt's

to tell Madeleine the truth.

When I got to the house,
I was even more scared.

What about Edouard?

- Ever hear of abstract art?
- No.

Edouard told me about it.

A Russian painter came home one night,

and saw a beautiful picture.

Then he realized it was his own.

Only, he'd been looking at it sideways.

And he deduced there's no need for reality.
Emotions were sufficient.

Well, I think Edouard

had moved on to abstract art. You see?

It's all pretty abstract, as you say.

What I mean is...

He'd found a way to feel better.

- Louise?
- Yes?

What's that getup?

- Where's Edouard?
- There.

He says, "Wanna come with me?"

You wanna go out?

[MINISTRY OF PENSIONS]

He was taking care of Pradelle.
But, in his own way.

A very twisted way.

On the
Ministry of Pensions' Honor Roll,

he spotted an inspector,
who in his 30-year carreer

had recieved no citation,
no promotion, nor any distinction.

He deduced that he was either
useless, or a pain in the ass.

Joseph Merlin
[MINISTRY INSPECTOR]

What is it?

What is it?

A mistake.

If it's a mistake, then,
1: excuse yourself,

2: close the door,
3: don't do it again.

Perfect!

Rumour was, that some firms
which recovered corpses

chopped them up,
to inflate their coffin allowance.

Inspector Merlin receieved a letter
saying Pradelle was involved.

It must have been true.

[Military Cemetery of Chazières-Malmont]

Monsieur?

Monsieur, please?...

Monsieur?

Excuse me, this cemetery
is not a public place.

Please, it's forbidden
by the government authorities.

- That's me.
- Pardon?

I'm the government.
Joseph Merlin, from the Ministry.

- This is an inspection.
- Nobody informed us.

If you'd been informed,
it wouldn't be an inspection.

It'd be a courtesy call.

Fuck...

so many men died!

Monsieur...?

Merlin. Like the wizard.

Pradelle, owner.
What can I do for you?

Some arithmetic.

Given that a size 46 shoe is 32 cm long.

If you multiply 32 by 5 you get...

You get?...

160 cm.
(5 feet)

Can you tell me why your coffin

is barely over 160 cm.?
(5 feet)

It's in the Bill of Specifications.

We have to dig everyone up.

We might come across small soldiers.
Jockeys or midgets.

Oh...

And it's more economical
for the goverment.

So kind of you!
I'll put it in my report.

The government will be very touched.

And you found this many midgets?

Those bastards!

Sending all these midgets to war!

Mind you, midgets would've been
quite at ease in the trenches.

The Germans couldn't see them.

But, in hand-to-hand combat?...

Ayi-ayi-ayi!

One swift kick, and boom!...

those midgets were done for!

I'm not a wiz in anatomy,
but, is it normal

for the legs to be on the chest
and the head on the torso?

There have been terrible battles.

I was there. You weren't.

Oh, fuck!...

German technology, huh?

Quite something, no?

Don't move.

Smile!

What's this?

I think the management
owes you that.

And, in my personal capacity

I'd like to thank you for the thoroughness
of your assessment of my enterprise,

ten more makes a hundred!

A hundred...

100,000 francs?

And you flush your report
down the shitter. Is that clear?

Tell your higher-ups whatever you want,
I don't wanna hear about it.

Now, then...

5 tableaux chosen from the
first round of selections.

It goes without saying,
it's just a preliminary selec...

[TOo Our Dead]

[Victory Crowns the Glorious Dead]

This one is fantastic!

It evokes such emotion...

Incredible!

Even if we had to die, so what?
As long as our nation is saved.

Shut your face, Labourdin.

Alright.

Curious..

Is it fake?

I said shut up, Labourdin.

Alright.

That one.

Ah... We only need to book the project

and start the work.

Check all the artist's credentials and...

And?

- I'd like to meet him.
- Oh, he'll be delighted.

To think... President Péricourt
wants to meet him, personally!

Get out, Labourdin.

Alright.

Oh

How about that? Pauline!

Just passing thrrough
the neighborhood.

- Albert Maillard?
- Yes.

Is that a new suit?

Yes, what do you think?

Can I be frank?

Of course.

All you need is a perch.

You look like a big canary.

You know,

two years in uniform
ruins your taste in clothes.

Could you help me to...

choose a new suit?

Yes.

For sure?

Tomorrow?

- After work?
- Yes.

- Or in two hours?
- No, no, tomorrow.

- You know 'Le Bon Marché'?
- Yes.

Oh. I don't...

I don't like that store, much.

It's not very expensive.

Money's no problem.

See you tomorrow, then?

Ah, actually, no...

Till tomorrow.

Shh!

Dupré? What the hell are you
doing here at this hour?

You scared the hell
outta me.

He handed it all in.

Who? What?

Merlin handed all the cash
into the Ministry.

He submitted his report

including the 100,000 francs
as proof of attempted bribery.

It's 8 cm. thick!
(3 inches)

And a long list of numbers.

- It's impossible!
- Sure, it is.

Captain? I should go, Captain.

No, no I'll need you, Dupré.

Captain...

Could you give this to
the woman who's with you?

What?

Dupré?

I didn't know. Dupré!

I had no way of guessing.
I didn't know, old pal.

What do you think of this?

[We're at the Lutétia]

He moved in to the Lutétia.

He attended incredible parties
with every dandy in Paris.

For having unleashed the war...

For not having stopped it...

For having loved doing it...

For having profited from it...

You are all sentenced to death.

On my order!

Fire!

The coup de grâce!

Well...?

But, it's Marshal Foch...

An asshole like all the rest.

[Thanks for cleaning up]

[Have a nice day]

Excuse me, monsieur,
we need to move the canape.

- Edouard? Edouard?
- Hm?

You were sleeping...

Yes.

Know what day it is?

July 11. We leave in 3 days, Private Péricourt.

While you're out partying,
razzle dazzle, zis boom bah...

Albert's out shopping.

It's the colonies for us!

Oh, it seems my butt isn't very clean!

No big deal, I'll just get my
12 servants to see to it.

Well? Pretty neat, huh?

He says, "It's neat."

You want orange juice, milk or tea?

Two rums for us and
for the girl, coconut milk.

Serve it in here, please?

Sure... all the coconuts you have!

Thanks. No rush.

He doesn't exist!

- Jules d'Epremont doesn't exist!
- Pardon?

This Jules d'Epremont doesn't exist.

Explain.

You said you wanted to meet him,
so I went to 52 rue Du Louvre.

And that doesn't exist either.
It's a post office box.

Nobody's ever heard of Jules d'Epremont.

Jules d'Epremont, Member of the Institute.

He CAN'T 'not exist'!

This catalogue contains industrial designs.

Eh... Yes!

But we ordered a personalized work.

Yes, voila! Monsieur d'Epremont,
Member of the Institute,

creator of models,
both, for mass production,

and works that are like...

when people want them to be
how they want.

- Original?
- Voila!

Original.

And you've paid?

Oh, of course! Rest assured.

No payment, no orders.
That's their rule.

Oh, I see what you mean.

Perhaps I shouldn't have?

Get out of my sight, Labourdin.

Alright.

He doesn't exist...

Not disturbing you?

What's the matter, cheri?

Nothing.

I want you, is all.

Excuse me.

I've never seen you
with such breasts.

What's the matter, Henri?

I must talk to your father.

- Must be serious.
- Yes.

It won't be possible, my love.

I know he detests me,
but if you speak to him...

All I need is 5 minutes.

I won't get involved, because,
I don't want to get involved.

I'm not asking you to take an
interest in my business. Just 5 minutes.

It's not your business
which doesn't interest me...

it's you.

I don't understand.

It's not what you do
which leaves me indifferent...

it's who you are.

I married you because I needed you.

I needed a name.

I was getting old.

I was proud to show you off
to my friends...

until you started sleping with them.

How was it you described me to them?
...Oh, yes:

"Ugly face but pretty dowry."

What?!

Who told you such nonsense?

That sort of repartee, is just like you.

No...

I'll miss your handsome face...

and all the rest.

But now your job is done.

My job?

I'm sure you've given me a beautiful baby.

I never expected anything more of you.

I think your life's going to get
difficult, cheri.

I'd have liked to help you,
but, it's too late.

I must be concerned for the baby, now.

Monsieur Péricourt asks if you'd
go to see him.

It would seem to be urgent.

The minister called,
you're in a lot of trouble.

Your scam in the cemeteries,
plus, bribing officials.

That's a lot.

You're dead.

Do you hear me?

Dead.

You wouldn't call me at midnight,
if you didn't need something from me.

I don't yet know why,

but, at any rate, my conditions
are still the same.

The minister's your man. Fine.

Tell him to toss
all the charges against me. All.

I don't want to hear of it anymore.

Is that clear?

Just tell me who to kill.

One or two crooks selling monuments
they never intend to build.

I'm one of their victims.

If the police arrests them
before they escape,

everyone will feel it concerns them.

The law, the veterans,
the government, the papers.

And I don't wish this sort of publicity.

So find him... Or them.

Why me?

Because it takes a lowlife
to catch a lowlife.

"... festoons and illumination of
the principal monuments."

That ought to be lovely!

"Fireworks.

"Belleville and Ménilmontant.

"...a parade of Cuirassiers

"at the racecourse."

It's gonna be one helluva 14th of July!
(Bastille Day)

Marry me, that's an order!

To city hall, march!
Hup, two! Hup, two...

Afterwards, a long trip to Africa.

Please marry me. Come on!

You wanna marry me?

- This is horrible!
- What?

People selling fake war memorials.

Monuments that don't exist.

Look.

[FAKE MONUMENTS TO THE DEAD?]

I understand...

All the friends you lost in the war...

Such a terrible thing to do!

You'll see, they'll catch them
and punish those swindlers.

A terrible fate awaits them.

It's me.

What do you mean, it's you?

The war monuments in the paper?
...It's me.

- You don't wanna marry me?
- No.

Nobody, Mr. President! Nobody at all!

Nobody knows!

I told no one!

Well, actually...

"Actually" what?

A good friend who swore
she'd never speak of it.

- What does this lady friend do?
- Oh, well...

What?

- Good grief!
- Why, "Good grief"?

I was wondering why she
took notes while we...

She's a journalist.

We can't do much, Marcel.

*Things have gone too far.
A lot of people know.

Andre, you didn't get your position,
on your own.

You know, nothing's more fragile
than a ministership.

Look, I know how much I owe you, but...

I'm not speaking of the past
I mean the future.

Well, I'll see what I can do.

Not what you CAN do.
What you WILL do.- Alright.

Can I reassure our young friend?

He's your friend?

As long as I don't hear another word
about about him! Alright?

- Been a pleasure, Andre.
- Likewise.

He's at the Lutétia.

Under the name of Eugène Larivière
or Jules d'Epremont.

A nut who lives behind a mask
and draws all day long.

According to my information,
he's leaving in 24 hours.

You ought to hurry.

Any stunts and I'll crush you outright.

Where are you going, Pauline?

This isn't the service entrance.

Are you unhappy?

You know, I'm always there to console you.

Still going to the Lutétia?

No.

Follow that car, please.

Lieutenant?

Maillard.

What are you doing here, Maillard, hm?

I asked what you're doing here.

This building site is closed to the public,
Private Maillard.

Put that down, Maillard.

Put it down, now.

The war's over, Maillard.

I don't...

I don't know anymore.

Put it down, now, Maillard.
That's an order!

Put...

Maillard!

Maillard!

Maillard! Private Maillard!

Take my hand.

Maillard! Private Maillard!

Maillard...

Private Maillard!

It was an accident.

I was incapable of killing him.

Nevertheless, he didn't fall
in the hole by himself.

- Sure.
- Then, what?

I hid out in a room
near the Gare de Lyon.

Waiting for Edouard.

Edouard, Edouard, Edouard!

Monsieur Larivière, or Jules d'Epremont?

I'm one of your victims.

But in fact I don't give a damn
about all that.

It's only that, in your drawings there's...

an aspect which resembles the work
of someone I knew.

I thought, maybe you knew him, or...

I would have liked to tell him...

that he was right

for wanting to be who he was.

There was true genius in his drawings...

and one had to be a damned imbecile
not to see it.

Above all, I wanted to tell him

that he was my son...

and I was proud of him.

Thank you.

And that's it.

See you up there.

I'll take it from here.

I'll see you two, tomorrow.

I said, I'll take over.

I'm going out for 10 minutes.

I, foolishly, forgot
the handcuff key on my desk.

And the phone is, unfortunately,
out of order,

as of...

now.

Which means I can't inform my superiors
until tomorrow morning.

Which is a pity, since the frontier
is only hours away on foot.

Or, if you have money,
one hour by taxi.

Why are you doing this?

What was the name of the young soldier
shot by Pradelle, on Hill 113?

Young Thérieux?

My kid.

Bon voyage, Private Maillard.

♪Subtitles by♪ XQ2☻♥