All language subtitles for The.Stranger.1967.720p

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Go in.

Sit down.

Arthur Meursault. Citizen of Algiers.
Born in 1903. Employed as a shipping clerk.

Have you made arrangments for a lawyer?

No, in my case I don't
think it's necessary.

But why not?

I think my defence is quite simple.

- Where to?
- Marengo.

THE STRANGER

Mama died today.

Or maybe yesterday, I'm not sure.

A telegram from the home said:

"Your mother passed away. Funeral
tomorrow. Deepest sympathy".

The home for the aged is
about 50 miles from Algiers.

I took the two o'clock bus.

It was very hot.

I fell asleep.

- Madame Meursault?
- Yes.

Would you take me to
see Mama right away?

First the warden would like to see you.

We have to bury her quickly,
it's so hot out here on the plain.

You know, in this part of the country
everything goes fast, even funerals.

What an awful thing to
say, that's not nice at all.

No, that's all right, it's interesting.

Madame Meursault became part
of our family three years ago.

And you were her sole supporter?

I don't earn much as a clerk. That must
be written in your records somewhere.

No explanation is
necessary, my dear fellow.

I suppose you wish to
pay your respects now.

I'll have the remains placed in the
mortuary to avoid upsetting the others.

- Gaston, would you take care of Mr Meursault for me?
- Yes sir, of course.

I understand. You just weren't
able to take care of her.

She needed a nurse, and you
simply couldn't afford it.

- In any case, your mother was much happier here.
- You're right.

We had nothing to talk about any more.

And then she hated
to stay alone all day.

Ah, sir, there you are.

They've already put the lid on but
I'll remove it so you may have a look.

- You don't want me to?
- No.

- Why not?
- It doesn't matter.

I know what you mean.

Why don't you sit down?

A tumour. That's what she had.

You can get some supper if you want.

Thanks just the same,
I'm not very hungry.

- Would you like me to bring you some coffee with milk?
- I'd like a cup of coffee, yes.

I'll leave you alone for a while.

Night came very quickly
above the skylight.

The shadows deepened into black.

You know, your mother's friends from the
home will be coming to the wake tonight.

It's customary. I'll fetch
the chairs and black coffee.

- How long have you lived here?
- Six years.

Cigarette?

Can you turn off one of the lights?

It's impossible, they're
all on a single circuit.

It's all or nothing.

You know, that lady has
been weeping all day.

She was your late mother's companion.
Now she says she's completely alone.

As a rule we don't permit residents to
attend the funerals for their own good.

I've made an exception however for a
friend of your mother's, Thomas Perez.

It's actually quite a touching story.

Mr. Perez and your mother had
become almost inseperable.

The other old folk used to tease
him about having a fiancee.

Actually, he was quite
grieved about her death.

- It's damned hot.
- Pardon?

- I said it's hot.
- Yes.

- Is that your mother there?
- Yes.

She was old, huh?

Quite old.

I have vivid memories of that day.

The blood-red earth
pattering on mother's coffin.

Thomas Perez crumbling
like a broken marionette.

And the scarlet geraniums on
the graves in the cemetary.

Well, fancy meeting you here.

- Marie.
- I haven't seen you in ages.

- Are you still working at the shipping place?
- Yeah.

Where do you work now?

Oh, still at the same place I was
working at after I left your company.

I'm really sorry you
didn't stay with us.

We stretched out on the raft and
I lay my head across her body.

She didn't seem to mind,
so I let it stay there.

We lay on the raft for a long time.

Well, what do you say? Will
you come to the movies with me?

Can we see the picture with Fernandel?

Alright.

Are you in mourning?

For my mother.

When did she die?

Yesterday.

I remembered it was Sunday.

I don't like Sundays.

It was another glaring afternoon and
streets were shimmering in the heat.

Only a few people passed by, but
they all seemed to be in a hurry.

It occurred to me that I'd
made it through another Sunday,

that Mama was buried now and tomorrow
I'd be going back to work as usual,

and that all in all
nothing had really changed.

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

Sit down.

- Are you all right?
- Yes.

- Not too tired?
- No, no.

- My condolences.
- Thank you, sir.

Tell me, Meursault, just
how old was your mother?

- In her sixties.
- Ah. Pretty old.

- Emmanuel.
- Yeah?

Quick, let's go!

Hey Celeste, we're here.

- How are you?
- Fine, but I'm hungry.

Sit down then, I'll get
your usual, you just relax.

What'll you have?

Hors d'oeuvres, beefsteak,
Roquefort, and coffee.

- Good evening, Madame.
- How are you?

- Filthy mongrel...
- Has he done anything wrong?

He's always in the way.
Damn him!

Come on, you.

The way he treats that dog!

- It's abominable, huh?
- No.

Hey, I got some pretty good wine.

How about having
something to eat with me?

OK, thanks.

Like I said, there was this dame
I know, an old mistress of mine,

That man I told you I beat up?

He was the dame's brother.

I know what the neighbours
say, that I pimp for a living,

but that's a dirty lie, I work
in a warehouse, that's all.

Well, anyway, about this dame.

I paid her rent and added
fifteen bucks a week for food,

and a couple of presents now and then,
I mean, that's plenty for any woman.

But madame said I was stingy, said she
couldn't make out with what I gave her.

Look, I says, why don't you
work a couple of hours a week.

It's about time you help me out a bit.

Nothing doing. Then I realise
that something's going on.

One day I found this lottery
ticket in her pocketbook

and she wouldn't tell me where
she got the money to buy it.

Another time I found a pawn ticket
proving she'd hocked two bracelets.

You follow me?

Who the hell gave her those bracelets?

I didn't give her any.
It was someone else.

So I kicked her out,
after beating her up.

I bawled her out good, too.

I said all she ever wanted
was to jump into the sack!

But that isn't all, Meursault.

You'll be sorry one day, I said.
With me you never had it so good.

There were times I used to beat her,
but to play around, that's all.

She'd complain, scream a bit,
then we'd end up in bed.

- No thanks.
- Just a little.

But I'm through with her now.
The bitch has got to be punished.

Look, I want some advice about that.

First I thought I'd take her to a hotel,

call the police and have her
arrested as a hooker.

Then I figured I'd call up a couple
of friends I got in the business.

But all they said was why not knock
her up, which is not what I had in mind.

So I thought I'd find out your
opinion about it, Meursault.

Well, I'm not sure, but
it's an interesting story.

Didn't she lie to me, Meursault? Wasn't
I right to think she was cheating on me?

Well, I guess it looks that way.

Let me tell you what I have in mind.

I've sent a letter from the heart,
you know what I mean?

But at the same time kind of
dry and to make her feel sorry.

When she gets here I'll take her to bed.

I wouldn't want to miss a chance
for a good lay, you follow me?

But as soon as we've finished I'll throw
her out for good and spit in her eye.

What do you think?

Well, that way I guess she'll
get what's coming to her.

Trouble is I know what I want to tell
the bitch but I'm lousy at writing letters.

So I was hoping you might help me out.

Would you mind writing it tonight?

No.

I know you're a real bard.

Her name's...Yasmine.

An Arab girl?

A few days later Marie came
to get me at the office.

We went for a long walk across
town, along the crowded boulevards.

The women were brown and beautiful, and
I asked Marie if she didn't think so too.

She said "yes, I know what you mean".

Do you want to marry me?

It doesn't really matter.

But if that's what you want, I will.

Do you love me?

No, I don't suppose I do.

But if you like, we'll get married.

I think marriage is a serious thing.

No.

Then she said I was
strange somehow,

and that she loved me
because I was strange,

but that one day she may come
to hate me for just that reason.

After that, we suddenly felt
anxious to get back to my apartment,

and to go to bed together.

I left the windows open,

and it was good to feel the cool
night air caressing our bodies.

Leave the door open to let
some fresh air in, all right?

Look what I put on...
oh, what'd you get?

Ah, perfect.

- You bastard! You lousy mutt...
- What's that?

Ah, that's gone on for eight years.

The dog has a bad skin disease,

it's almost bald and
covered with scabs.

And the old man looks
exactly like his dog.

What's even funnier is the dog has
learned to walk just like the old man.

They're like twins, but oddly
enough they detest each other.

Do you love me?

That doesn't mean anything.

But I don't suppose so.

And now?

You lying whore! I'll teach you!

What's going on?

- Go back and call the police.
- No, I don't like to.

I'm calling the police!

Oh, thank god, a policeman's
here! He's here! He's here!

Up there, officer! Hurry, it's
murder! On the second floor!

Move away, go on, get going.

Oh, officer, look, he beat me!

Hey, you. What's your name?

Raymond Sintes.

Take that cigarette out of your mouth.

- Can I get my cigarette?
- Yeah, you can pick it up.

You better show a little
respect for the law.

He's a pimp, he peddles whores.

- Is that legal, to call someone a pimp?
- Shut up.

- I'm not through with you yet.
- I said shut up! And you, get out.

Go on.

Stay right here until the chief wants
you down at the station, understand?

You're so drunk
you're trembling all over.

I'm not drunk.

When a cop glares at
me I tremble in fear.

Clear out everyone,
it's all over, get going.

Thanks a lot, Meursault. You're a
real sport to help me out of this mess.

You're a real pal, you know that?

You were right to tell
him she cheated on me.

Cops are all alike. I know
just how to handle them.

Meursault, did you think
I'd hit that guy back?

No, no. I mean, I don't care.
I don't like cops anyhow.

You want to go someplace or
pick up a couple of whores?

No, not particularly. Besides,
I've got to be up early tomorrow.

Yeah, I'm pretty tired myself, and
I've had enough of women for one day.

So we just walked slowly home.
Raymond was very nice to me.

And I thought what a
pleasant evening it was.

- What's happened?
- My dog is gone.

I took him over to the fairgrounds
tonight, as I always do.

The crowds were overwhelming at the fair.

I stopped for a minute to
look at the fire-eater.

And can you imagine, he disappeared.

Of course I'd always meant to buy
a tighter collar for him to wear.

But I never thought the lousy
mutt would get away like that.

He'll find his way home.

He'll starve to death first,
because nobody will take him in.

Well, he's disgusting with
those scabs all over his body.

The police will shoot him, I know it.

I bet they'll just take him to the
pound. You can get him back for a fee.

Well, they can kill him for all I care.

I won't pay a cent for that mutt.

Goodnight. And thanks again,
it all came out just fine.

- We really taught that bitch a lesson.
- Goodnight.

What do you think will
happen, Mr Meursault?

If they won't help me find
him, what am I going to do?

Why don't you go out
and buy another dog?

- I'm already used to this one.
- I understand.

- Have you had him very long?
- Since my wife died.

I never felt much affection for my wife.

But as time went on I got
used to having her there

and when she died I felt so lonely.

Then I thought about taking in a
dog and asked an old friend for one.

He brought it here, a
tiny thing like that.

It was so young I had
to feed it from a bottle.

But a dog's life is shorter than
a man's so we grew old together.

We've had some fights, he and I, but
he was a good little dog, all the same.

He was a good breed?

Oh, you should have known
him before he was ill.

The dog had a splendid
coat everybody admired.

The trouble was he'd grown old and
there isn't any remedy for old age.

Yes, I guess you're right.

Your poor mother was especially
fond of my dog, did you know that?

And you, you suffered
a terrible loss too.

I hope I don't hear a dog barking
tonight. I know I'll think it's mine.

Goodnight.

I don't know why, but I
suddenly thought of Mama.

Yes, that's fine. All right.

He's a pal. Name's Masson.
Terrific guy.

He invited us to his
beach house this weekend.

Yes, I told him all about you.

Sure, bring your girlfriend with you.

Masson's wife will like
having another woman come.

Look, Raymond, I've got to hang up.

Hold on, it's important.

Will you hurry?

I want to tell you another thing.

Listen, I was tailed the
whole morning by some Arabs.

One of them is my
ex-girlfriend's brother.

When you get home tonight, keep
an eye open,

and if you spot the guy,
you let me know.

I will, you can count on me.

- Meursault, the boss wants to see you.
- I've got to go, goodbye.

Come in.

Please, sit down.

Listen Meursault, I've got a project
I'd like to discuss with you.

I want to hear what you think about it.

I want to start a branch in Paris...

...to allow us to deal more directly
with the larger companies.

I want to know if you'd
object to being sent there.

It would be a great opportunity and
you'd travel for much of the year.

You're still young, you'd have
a marvellous time in Paris.

I guess so. But I don't really care.

Aren't you the least bit
tempted to change your life?

But it's impossible
to change one's life.

I might as well
remain where I am.

I feel reasonably content here.

Why must your head be in the clouds
all the time?

You must have ambition;
you can't succeed without that.

I'll talk to you later, you can go now.

As a student I was very ambitious.

But then I had to
drop out of my school

and I realised how
unimportant it was.

So I'm sorry, it's just that...

Excuse me.

What a glorious day.

What have you got in
your bag, let me see.

If you're looking for something
to eat, I didn't pack a thing.

But we can go for coffee.

This is Raymond. I'd like you
to meet Mademoiselle Cardon.

- Let's get going.
- Great idea.

What is it?

The second one from the
left, that's the guy.

Let's go.

- Is anything wrong?
- Oh, just an Arab, Raymond had a fight.

- Here comes the bus.
- Let's go then, unless you want coffee.

We can always get some later,
no point in wasting time.

I shouldn't brag, but my husband's
the best fisherman in Algiers.

Look what he caught this morning.

Hey, Masson! Bring
another fish in to shore!

Wait for me!

You didn't remember to
kiss me this morning.

I was thinking,

why not tell your boss you've
reconsidered everything he said,

and accept that job in Paris
next year. I'd come with you.

I'm dying to see Paris.

I lived there once, a long time ago.

- Isn't it pretty?
- Dirty as hell.

Pigeons, courtyards, and
people with pale faces.

Hey, do you need any help?

It's not fair for you
to do all the work.

No, stay there, I can manage
just fine, it's all right.

- Quickly, we're almost ready to eat.
- Yes, fine.

Masson's come back in, you see?

- I bet lunch is ready.
- I'm starving, too. Shall we go?

This way.

- It's only 11:30, it's true!
- I don't believe it.

We have lunch earlier than usual.

As I always say, when you're
hungry, it's high time to eat.

I propose we take a little
walk on the beach, gentlemen.

- My wife likes to nap after lunch.
- Oh yes, it relaxes me.

But I prefer to walk.
Walking relaxes me.

I'll give you a hand
with the dishes.

- Let's go, then.
- All right.

Raymond. Coming with us?

Let's start now and get it over with.

Come on.

And when you return you'll find us
curled up asleep like little dolls.

That's him!

- How did they find out you were here?
- They saw us get on the bus.

If they want trouble I want you to
to grab the other man, I'll jump on mine.

Hey, Meursault, if another
one comes, he's yours.

Meursault! Come on!

I'll rip you apart!

He's got a knife, look out!

- Did he cut me bad?
- No, it's only a nick.

- My face, look at it.
- I told you, it's fine.

Madame Masson,
come quick, hurry!

- Has there been an accident?
- It's nothing serious.

Mademoiselle! Come out!

There's a doctor who has a beach house,
he's usually there on Sundays.

- I'll go get him.
- No, I'm fine

- I'll go there myself.
- I'll take you.

We got into a fight with some Arabs.

- Raymond!
- Shut up, will you.

- Raymond, wait.
- I said shut up.

Shall I shoot?

No, Raymond. It isn't
fair to fire in cold blood.

All right, first I'll
bait him, then I'll shoot.

No, be sensible,
Raymond. Give me the gun.

Just rough him up a little. If he pulls
out his knife I'll take care of him.

- Well, I'm glad they're gone.
- We scared them away, huh?

We better go back to town, the
bus leaves at five, you know.

I stood on the bottom step, my head
reeling from the heat of the sun.

I didn't have the strength
to climb the stairs

and face the smiling,
chattering women above.

I shook off the veil of sweat
and light that blinded me.

I had shot at the impassive
stillness of the afternoon

and the shimmering
silence of the beach.

Four shots like four fateful
raps on the door to my destiny.

I was caught robbing a
store. What did you do?

I killed an Arab.

When you want to sleep,
use this mat as a pillow.

You have to learn how
to roll it upright.

Thank you.

-Do you smoke?
-Yes.

It's the same old story, you
idiots never follow orders.

He's supposed to be in solitary!

Mersault!

Meursault!

Get up, come on. You're
going to solitary.

Get a move on.
You two take him down.

I'm your lawyer.

The court appointed me.

I've reviewed your case.

It's extremely tricky, of course.
However, I know I can get you off.

- If you be sure to follow my advice.
- Thank you.

Let's get right down to it.

They've already made inquiries
into your private life

and learned that your
mother died recently.

She was in a home for
the aged in Marengo.

They investigated the home
and discovered, unfortunately,

that you were exceptionally
callous at your mother's funeral.

I hate to pry about this
but it's quite important.

If the prosecution pursues this
you could be in serious trouble.

Were you truly grieved
by your mother's death?

I'm not quite sure what to say.

It doesn't seem to
matter very much to me.

I cared for her and yet there
were moments I wished her dead.

Promise me not to
repeat that at the trial!

Or to the prosecuting attorney!

The day they buried mother
I was tired like a sleepwalker.

I stumbled around
like I was in a daze.

Naturally, I prefer that Mama was alive.

That isn't enough.

Can we say you were stifling
normal emotional reactions?

No. It would be a lie.

The director of the home
is a witness for the prosecution

with other members of the
staff - this could be disastrous.

But this has nothing
to do with my case.

You haven't been involved
with the law before, have you?

Tell me, did you love your mother?

Yes, like everybody does.

You fired five shots, is that
right? One after the other.

No, at first I only shot once.

Then I fired the others a little later.

I see.

Why did you wait between
the initial and second shots?

Explain why you continued
to shoot at the dead man.

Why?

I insist on hearing the answer.

Why?

Tell me why!

- See this? You realise what it means?
- Yes, of course.

I believe in the lord God.

I believe even the vilest sinner
can find forgiveness in God's eyes.

But first the sinner must
become like a child

and in true repentance
bare his soul to God.

Obviously only one point in
your confession is unclear.

The fact that you say you hesitated
before firing the second shot.

Everything else is quite in order
but that completely baffles me.

Do you believe in almighty God?

No.

That's impossible, there isn't a
single man on Earth who doesn't,

no man who doesn't
acknowledge he at least exists.

if I had any doubts at all
my life would have no meaning.

Do you mean to say
my life is senseless?

It doesn't matter to me.

I'm a Christian and I beg the lord
to forgive you your transgressions,

but how can you deny he
suffered for your sake?

You must. You must.

I'm sure you must believe in him.

No.

I've never in all my life seen
a soul as hardened as yours.

All the criminals who come in here shed
bitter tears at seeing His image.

Are you sorry for what you did?

I'm not sorry, exactly.

I'm rather a little annoyed.

That will be all for today,

Mr Anti-Christ.

No women. That's usually a
prisoner's first complaint.

I can understand why. It's
unfair to take that away too.

But isn't that the
purpose of being in prison?

What purpose is that?

To put you in here and
deprive you of liberty.

I forgot. I'm being punished.

And that explains it.

You have brains, you
know. The others don't.

But you all end up doing it yourselves.

Hey there!

Is there anything you want?

...so I bawled her out, and
guess what happened?

She started screaming
'Keep your filthy mouth shut'.

- Raymond said to send his best to you.
- Give mine to him.

- Is he better?
- Yeah, I brought him home Monday.

Will you be OK?

When you get out we'll get married, OK?

Time's up.

Time's up, everybody out.

Time's up, everybody out.

You'll be acquitted. We'll
go swimming at the beach.

Time's up.

- Goodbye, Mama.

I don't think they'll let me
come and see you.

They won't give me permission
because...we're not married.

They said I could come
just this once.

Five months.

Five months.

Five months here in prison.

The summer had slipped away
and quietly returned.

The court shall touch on matters
which may seem unimportant

but will have some bearing
on the matter at hand.

I see that in June 1936 you put your
mother a home for the aged.

- Am I correct?
- Yes, your honour.

And why did you do this?

I didn't make enough
money to provide for her.

Were you upset by the idea of putting
your mother in a home?

We'd both become totally
independent of each other.

And anybody else.

So we were both able to
adjust to this change.

I don't wish to pursue this point.

Has the prosecutor any particular
questions he wishes to ask?

I would indeed, your honour,
with your kind permission,

I would like to ask the accused...

...if he returned to the cove with
the intention of killing the Arab

No!

In that case, why was
the accused armed?

And why did he return
to the very same spot?

I guess just by chance.

Your honour, that is all for the moment.

Counsel for the defence
objects, your honour.

One moment, it's getting late. We'll get
around to your objections after lunch.

Court adjourned.

We'll resume at two o'clock at which
time all the witnesses will be heard.

The court is adjourned.
Remove the prisoner.

I would like to ask if on any occasion
the mother of the accused

expressed displeasure with
her son's conduct.

Yes, many times, but our guests
always complain about their relatives.

I would also like to know whether she
resented having been sent to your home.

Yes.

Was there anything in particular

you observed about the accused
on the day of his mother's funeral?

Yes, he seemed unusually
calm and composed.

He refused to see his mother's body.

He didn't shed a single tear.

And he left at the
end of the ceremony

without paying his last
respects at the graveside.

If the prosecutor has any
questions he may now proceed.

Oh no, that's all I need to hear.

Thank you sir, you may step down.

He told me he wouldn't
see the body.

What's more, he smoked,
drank coffee, and went to sleep.

I didn't hear that clearly, could your honour
request the witness to repeat his testimony?

Please repeat what you said, sir.

I said that as he sat there in front
of the coffin he drank a cup of coffee,

smoked a cigarette and
then went to sleep.

Your honour, may I have the floor?

Would your honour
ask this man if,

during the wake, he did not
also smoke a cigarette?

Who is on trial here?

Does my colleague think
that by slandering a witness,

he can shake the evidence
against the accused?

I accepted a cigarette only
because he offered it

and I didn't know how to say no.

Does the accused have
anything he would like to add?

No. Nothing.

Except to add he's spoken the truth.
I did give him a cigarette that night.

Well, it was me who offered
him the coffee, your honour.

Mark those words, gentlemen of the jury.

Yes, the jury will acknowledge this

and will agree that a total
stranger might offer him coffee,

but that he should have refused

out of respect for the woman
who brought him into the world!

Mr Perez, will you
please tell the court

how the accused behaved
on the day of the funeral?

You must understand, your honour,
that I was very upset that day,

and I honestly didn't
notice him at all,

especially since I fainted.

How could I keep my
eye on Mr Meursault?

Tell me, did you see him cry?

No.

Mark those words, gentlemen of the jury.

Can you swear to the court
that he didn't weep at all?

No.

These whole proceedings are a mockery,
the truth is false and lies are true.

Thank you.

Don't worry, it's going
to be all right.

Everything's going well,
count on me.

Now then, Mr Meursault
often ate in your restaurant?

He was a customer
and good friend.

Why was he a good friend?

Because he's
truly a good man.

What exactly do you
mean by that?

He's a good man,
there's no other definition.

Order, order.

Did it ever appear that
the accused...

...found it difficult to communicate
with the rest of you?

He was a blabbermouth, your honour.

Did the accused always settle
his accounts with you on time?

Always, without hesitation.

With the court's indulgence,
I would like to know

your opinion of the
crime he committed.

It seems to me it was an accident.

An unfortunate turn of events.
That sums up my opinion.

That is all, you may step down.

- I'd like to say one more thing.
- Proceed, but please be brief.

He's not a killer.

The court will decide that.

It's obvious that our function
here is to mediate and judge.

Thank you, that is all.

Please tell me how long
you have known the accused.

- About three years.
- Please speak up.

About three years.

I'd been employed in the office
where Mr Meursault worked.

And what is your relationship
with the prisoner?

I'm his girlfriend.

We were going to get married.

I would like to ask
Mademoiselle Cardona

what date her relationship
with the accused began.

It was the first Saturday in
July last year, to be exact.

I see, I see.

The day after the funeral
of Madame Meursault.

Order, order.

I don't wish to pry into
such a delicate matter

with all respect for
Mademoiselle's feelings,

but it's my duty to waive
considerations of delicacy.

Tell me then, what transpired on
that Saturday in July last year?

Forgive me, Mademoiselle,
but I must have an answer.

Well... in July I usually
spend Saturdays at the beach.

I spotted him that
afternoon on the pier.

I spent about an hour swimming
and sunbathing with him that day.

Afterwards we decided
to go to the cinema.

Then back to his room, and he asked
me to spend the night with him.

Mademoiselle Cardonna has
just given her testimony

to the magistrate during
his investigation.

As a result, I consulted

newspaper listings on
that day for the cinema,

but I would like to ask
Madamoiselle Cardona

to specify what kind of
film they saw that day.

It was a film with Fernandel.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

the day after his mother's death,
he went to the beach,

began an illicit liaison and
watched a comedy at the movies.

It's horribly sick.
It isn't the way that it looks.

You've twisted everything I've said.

I know he didn't mean it.
It isn't his fault.

Please, Mademoiselle, this way.

He treated my poor dog
with kindness.

He and his mother had nothing
in common any longer.

These things happen.

These things happen.

Your honour, I'd just
like to say he's innocent.

You were not summoned
here to pass judgement

but to state facts and
answer questions.

Please tell the court what your
relationship was with the victim.

To begin with, I'm the only
man whom the victim hated.

That's because I'd
fooled with his sister.

Did the victim have any reason
whatsoever to dislike the accused?

No, not at all.

Mr Meursault was with me at the
beach that day just by coincidence.

I'd like this gentlemen to
now explain to the court

how it came about
that this letter,

which evidently led to the crime,
was written by the accused.

Coincidence.

It would appear that the real
culprit in this case is coincidence.

Was it also coincidence the accused
went with you to the police station?

Was it again coincidence that he
testified on your behalf?

Mr Sintes, what is your
line of work here in Algiers?

I work in a factory.

People of the jury,

it's common knowledge that he
in actuality he is a pimp,

and the accused was his
friend and accomplice.

This crime has its
roots in corruption.

Your honour, the prosecutor
is shamelessly...

We will discuss this when the
prosecutor has finished.

There really isn't much
to add, your honour.

Was the accused a friend of yours?

Yes, he was a real pal.

And was this man
your friend?

Yes.

Look at this callous criminal,

a son who mourned his mother's
death by wanton forays and orgies,

and murdered in
cold blood a poor lad

who had never done
him the least harm.

Is my client standing trial

for not adoring his mother
or killing an Arab?

The way in which this man
buried his one and only

mother is evidence that
at heart he is a criminal.

And so ladies and
gentlemen of the jury,

you are now acquainted with
the series of events,

that led this man to
commit murder with malice

aforethought, in dastardly
awareness of his crime,

to reiterate, there is no evidence
of extenuating circumstances,

or of impulsive or
irrational behaviour,

As you will have noted by the
way he answered my questions,

the man who sits before you in the
prisoner's dock is an educated man,

Therefore I repeat,:

it is impossible to
conclude that he committed

the crime without
knowing what he was doing.

I have looked into the
depths of this man's soul

and I have seen
a gaping void within,

to reveal the awful truth, he has
no soul at all, no human spark,

not even the merest
speck of morality

so dear to mortal man does
this monster possess.

No doubt we have no
right to blame the accused

for lacking qualities he
is morally incapable of

but here in this court
we must stifle

the human inclination to be tolerant

and submit our will
to the loftier demands

of that noble ideal: justice.

Above all, that man
who faces you in the

dock embodies all that
is evil and inhuman,

and has to be removed from a
world that he can only corrupt.

This very same court
will try here tomorrow

what seems to me to be
the basest crime of all.

Homicide, gentlemen.
And yet I must say this,

the horror this crime evokes
is but a pale reflection

of the horror evoked
by the callousness

of the man you see before you.

This man, who is morally
guilty of his mother's

death is no more fit to
dwell in this society of man

than the man who slew
the father that begot him,

And so, without a
single reservation,

I ask to impose the death
penalty upon this man.

It's often been my duty

in court to ask for the
extreme penalty of death,

but duty plays no role
in this affair!

I must give way to my
conscience, my heart, not duty.

My conscience therefore
compels me to

seek the death penalty
in this case.

Because my conscience is
repelled by this criminal,

this monster devoid of any
vestige of human feeling.

Have you anything
you'd like to say?

Simply that...

I didn't intend
to kill the Arab.

The court will take
note of your statement.

You see, I'm at a loss to
fully understand your defence.

So, before the court hears
your lawyer do the summing up,

would you please explain to me the
motive, the reason for your act.

Well, it was...

I think it was the sun.

Defence counsel may now take the floor.

Gentlemen of the jury.

I killed a man.
That I confess.

- Why did he say that?
- Lawyers always talk that way.

I too have looked into the depths
of this man's soul for a time.

But I don't happen to
hold the opinion

which my erudite colleague
has put forth

and I have found
his soul, in fact,

to be as crystal clear
as a shining fountain.

This is the soul of a
conscientious worker,

of an honest and fair young man,

a friend and companion to many,

a moral citizen, compassionate
and helpful to others.

I was frankly amazed
at the furore aroused

about the way he treated his mother.

Here sits a dutiful
son, who took care of his

mother as long as he
was able to afford it,

Being unequipped to
provide for her,

he sent her to a home,

hoping that there she
would receive

all the care and comfort
she required.

Surely, if truth be needed

of the excellence of
these institutions,

we need only remember that they are

promoted and subsidised
by the very state,

to which we owe our allegiance.

Therefore, by sending his mother
to a state-supported institution,

this man has on a grander scale
tacitly expressed his faith in our laws,

in our schools, in our hospitals, and in
justice. Yes, gentlemen, in justice itself.

Gentlemen of the jury, this man
has made a fatal mistake, I admit.

A human error. You must act
mercifully and not condemn him.

The circumstances in this case are
extenuating, I think you'll agree.

So let his conscience be his judge,

and his sole tormentor,

the almighty God.

Well done, you were splendid.

In the name of the people
of France, this court

after due and impartial
deliberation of this case,

finds the accused guilty of the
crime of which he has been charged,

and in accordance with the
prescriptions of the law,

condemns Arthur Messualt to death by
guillotine in full view of the public.

I've heard they always
come for you at dawn.

Now I spend my nights
waiting for that one daybreak.

I never like being caught off guard.

That's why I'll only
sleep during the day.

Watching all through the night for
the first glimmer of light in the sky.

At the slightest sound at the door,

I press my ear to the wood, listening

so intently I can hear my own breathing.

Quick, hoarse breathing.

Like the panting of a dog.

Then my frenzy subsides.

And I know I'll live another 24 hours.

I refused to see the
prison chaplain three times.

I don't feel like talking.
I have nothing to say to him.

I've spent a lot of time
thinking that it makes little

difference whether one
dies at the age of 30 or 70.

For once you're dead it doesn't
matter how, or when, you died.

Whenever I talk myself
into believing that,

I'm at peace for a little while.

Don't be afraid.

You usually come... at the last moment.

This is just a friendly visit.

It has nothing to do with your appeal.
I have no information about that.

Here, sit beside me.

No, I'd rather not.

Why wouldn't you let me visit you?

I'm an atheist.

How can you be sure there's no God?

Why bother about it?

It seems to me it's not very important.

It's quite easy to say you feel sure.

When inside you're wracked by doubt.

Don't you believe so?

It's possible.

In any case, I might not be sure
about what interests me, really.

But I know I'm sure of what bores me.

And I'm sure I'm very
bored by what you've said.

Aren't you talking to me like
this because you feel desperate?

I'm not desperate.

I'm afraid.

That's human, isn't it?

God can calm your fears.

My friend, I'm not telling you this
because you're condemned to die.

We're all condemned to die.

But not by execution.

So that's no consolation to
me, you should realise that.

I know. But you have to die some
day whether it's now or later.

And then the same question will arise.

How will you face that
terrible final hour?

In exactly the same manner
as I'm facing it this morning.

Have you no hope at all then?

Do you truly believe that
nothing remains after you die?

Yes.

How I pity you.

Life must be unbearable for
you if you feel like that.

Listen to me. I'm sure
that your appeal will

be successful but that's
not what concerns me.

You are bearing the burden of
great sins which you must atone for,

Man's justice is nothing at
all, only God's justice matters.

I was condemned by
Man's justice.

Man is powerless to
offer you redemption.

It means nothing to me.

They've condemned me for an
act I've committed,

so I'm paying the price, you can't
ask more from me than that.

You're wrong if you believe that.

You'll be asked to pay more.

A lot more than you imagined.

What's that?

You'll be compelled to see, to confront.

Confront what?

These walls are steeped in
human misery, I know that.

I sense the torment
and sorrow within.

But deep inside, I know,

each man who waited here for death
saw emerging from that blackness,

our saviour's face.

You will see that face as well.

All these months I've
stared at the walls, and now,

there's nothing, nobody there,
there's nothing but the four walls.

Yes, I stared.

A long time ago.

I too searched for someone's face.

It was a face like the
sun, flaming with desire.

The face of a woman named Marie.

But I searched in vain.

It's all over now.

I've never seen anything
emerging from these filthy walls.

Won't you try to pray, then?

No.

Do you prize the things
of this Earth so much?

No. I don't believe that.

I'm sure you've often wished
for a life after death.

Of course I have, who
hasn't, but in the same way

I wish to get rich or
travel all over the world.

Or to have a better shaped mouth.
It's no more important than that.

When you think of dying, tell me,
how do you envision what follows?

A life where I'll
remember all of this.

I'm sick and tired sir, leave me.

Time is precious now.

I don't want to
waste it on God.

Why do you call me sir?
Call me father.

You're not my father.

You stand with the others.

No, my son, I stand with you.

But you remain unaware because
your heart is filled with hate.

I shall pray for you then.

I don't want you to pray for me!

You're so certain about
everything, not one of your

certainties is worth a
strand of a woman's hair,

you're not even sure if you're alive
because you act like a dead man!

I look like I have nothing,

but I'm sure of what I
am, sure of everything,

sure of my life, and
now even my death,

I only know that what I'm sure
of is the truth for me.

My mother doesn't matter
and especially not your God,

the others will face this fate, as will
you, don't you understand?

What difference does it
make if a man's accused of

murder and executed for not
weeping at his mother's body

or that Salamano never
loved anyone but his mutt

or that Marie wanted
me to get married?

What difference does it make
if Raymond is my friend

and Celeste is a
better man than him?

And what does it matter if Marie
is kissing another man today?

Don't you see, you'll die just as I
die, but I'm sure of what I'll face.

Let him go.

Once he'd gone, I felt peace again.

I must have slept,

because when I opened my eyes

the stars were shining on my face.

The marvellous peace
of sleeping.

Summer night washed
over me like the tide.

Then, just at the edge of
daybreak, I heard a ship's whistle.

People were starting on a
voyage in a world

that had ceased to exist for me.

For the first time in
months I thought of Mama.

And now I understood why

at her life's end she
had taken a fiance.

Why she had pretended
to make a new beginning.

There too, in that home where
lives were flickering out,

there too came a
mournful solace.

Being so close to death,
Mama must have felt a

great relief, and ready
to start life over again.

No-one had the right to weep for her.

And I too felt ready to
start life over again.

It was as if my great rush of anger
had washed me clean,

purged me of hope,

and staring up at that night
sky, for the first time,

I opened my heart to the sweet
indifference of the universe,

and I felt that it was so
much like myself,

almost like a brother, that I
realised that I'd been happy,

and that I was happy still.

For all to be complete,
for me to feel less alone,

I only wish there would be huge
crowds of onlookers at my execution,

and that they greet me
with howls of contempt.