Original subtitles

The film you're about to see

was born under a lucky star.

One will never tire

of the French Academy in Rome.

The Villa Medici

that houses the Academy

is one of the world's most beautiful sites.

There could be no better site

to send the best of France's young artists

to perfect their art.

The site provides them with

organization and peace and quiet

while also affording them an extended stay

in a city so rich in history,

so instructive,

and which speaks more than any other to the imagination.

PARIS SCHOOL OF FINE ARTS RESIDENCY COMPETITION

FRENCH ACADEMY IN ROME COMPETITION

Thanks.

It goes fast.

You start, but they start asking questions fast.

Don't worry if they look pissed. That's normal.

-I'd love to get in... -Then show them.

Hello.

Hello. Please have a seat.

Thank you.

Do you remember me?

Yes.

I was here this morning, for the exam.

Do you want to know why you weren't selected?

You didn't like my work?

We can't accept everyone.

That's not true. You're saying that to get rid of me.

Accept me or you'll regret it forever.

Everyone knows the director can choose whoever he wants.

Get me in!

Put that down... This is ridiculous.

Promise me and then I'll put it down.

FRENCH NATIONAL ACADEMY

A CAROLINE DERUAS FILM

DAYDREAMS

It's over here.

This is your garden...

This door doesn't work. The entrance is over here.

Raphaëlle!

BOOKS

You're lucky, you know.

You're the only resident with an apartment in the main building.

The other residents are all in separate buildings.

THIS PIANO BELONGED TO CLAUDE DEBUSSY

Please be careful; it is a historical landmark.

It's easy to forget when you live here.

I'm not working this year.

I'm not writing a single line.

I'm just going sleep and watch you work.

I wanted to see if I'd fit, since I'm tall.

And when I'm doing writing in the evening,

and you've made us dinner,

you'll kiss me...

And then...

And then you'll kiss me...

Dear residents and staff members,

the director

is expecting you tomorrow afternoon in his apartment

for a welcome meeting.

Well,

I hope you'll be able to put your year here

to good use, and that you can keep your feet on the ground.

The year goes by fast, so don't waste your time.

And remember that we're all here to help you.

The Academy exists because of and for you.

Now that we're all here,

I'd like you to introduce yourselves.

My name is Pierre.

This is my wife, Céline, and my son, Tadzio.

Forgive my appearance; I just got back from Libya,

where I was making a documentary.

I came here to do some work on the mafia.

So if I disappear one day or get run over by a truck...

Hello, my name is Boris. I'm a musician.

Well, I'm a composer. I prefer "sound composer."

I'm here alone.

I'm not a big community-type person,

but I... I'm going to do my best.

Hello, my name is Tosca.

I came alone but my Angora cat,

Temestra, is going to be joining me soon.

I'm a painter.

My name is Camille,

and I... I write. Yeah.

I came with my daughter, Raphaëlle,

and my husband, Marc.

He hid in the back.

Hello, my name is Julie.

I was intending to come with my family,

but my partner left me right before I came.

And my kids wanted to stay in Paris.

It's stupid, because I wanted it to be a treat for them to come.

You don't have to tell us everything.

And... I happen to be a musician.

I know you work well. I've read all your books.

I was really happy when I found out

you were going to be spending

the year with us.

-Would you like a drink? -Sure.

-I envy you. -Yeah...

I envy you for the person you are,

and the way you've been able to discuss the darkness

we're going through in such a direct way.

Well then... To our year here!

To our year of... work and play...

Exactly.

Are you working on a new novel?

-Yes. -Is it a secret?

No, it's... I'm still working it out.

I'm very curious to see what Camille will write.

I really enjoyed her series of short stories. She's talented.

Oh, yes.

You can rest easy. She'll pick up where you left off.

What are you doing?

What do you think?

It's 2 a.m.

I'm doing what I've always done. What I've been doing for 13 years.

I thought you wanted to rest.

I realized that's not possible.

Why not?

You're so unaware.

How long do you think we can live on this?

I'm not going to twiddle my thumbs, but we just got here.

You haven't written a line in 3 years and now you're going to start?

Why do you think I came here?

I would already have written 5 novels at your age.

I'm saying that for you.

You don't know how hard it is to earn a living writing.

You think you're strong enough?

Your mother always told me you were a fragile child.

I'm going to keep working. That way you can

write without worrying about money.

They're paying me to write here.

Sure, but after?

I don't know. Work if you want. I don't care.

Do you have to use your typewriter?

I'm just making a quick note.

Over your face.

When I saw you at the competition,

you seemed so confident. I was sure you'd get in.

Move it up a bit.

I'm still wondering how I got in.

You must have given me luck.

More toward me.

Yeah.

When did you start doing photography?

I don't know. When I was a kid, I think.

I feel like I've always done it.

It's great the director got you an exhibit.

-When is it? -January.

What a lucky lizard.

He gets to stay here his whole life, and we...

We'll have to leave.

What are you writing?

It's about Lucienne Heuvelmans, the first woman resident here, in 1911.

Even though the Academy was founded in 1666.

She was a sculptor. She came six times.

So you shaved your beard?

Yeah, it was too much.

You know what I dreamed about my first night in Italy?

That statue was looking at me,

and it sent a bolt of lightning at Dad.

Lucienne always wore a black suit

with a long skirt,

an overcoat in the form of a cloak,

a hat with a veil,

and fine shoes with lifts.

-What are you doing? -Nothing, just looking.

It gave me an idea. I'll give it back.

What's it got to do with your book?

Nothing. I don't have a subject yet.

When Lucienne heard the heavy door close behind her,

a sense of apprehension ran through her body.

She felt stiflingly aware

of being the first woman to pass through these walls

and uncertainly hopeful that she wouldn't be the last.

The cardinal Ferdinand de' Medici bought the land

in 1576.

In Antiquity they belonged to Lucullus.

He brought in the greatest architects from Florence

to transform the modest villa

into a true palace. He also asked

his protege, the painter Iaccoppo Zucchi,

to decorate his private rooms.

Now, though, the cardinal's apartments

aren't open to the public.

We believe that the subterranean construction

goes back to the Renaissance, but I like to think,

and it is possible,

that these quarries are from Antiquity.

Stop it!

You know what I thought the first time I saw you?

You want to know?

No, you don't want to know.

I've haven't felt like this in ten years.

-I'm in love. -Yeah right!

I never say that.

-It's true. -Then why are you saying it now?

Because I'm in love with you.

As soon as I saw you,

just like that. I'm in love. I can't help it.

There's nothing else to say. It's...

Then stop talking.

Why'd you go out the window?

The shards of pottery you see here,

which are so badly stored they're going to turn into dust,

are the remnants of various eras

from the third century

through much more recent eras.

Are there any remains from Lucullus's villa?

Not that I know of,

even though it extended into the Pincio area.

There's also talk that the cardinal had a secret room

that was decorated with a fresco of birds,

but which disappeared.

And you've never wanted to do more research?

That's my secret.

... AND THE VENGEANCE THEY COULD ENACT

ON ME BECAUSE OF THESE FEELINGS.

While you're at it,

do you want a cigarette, too?

Sure. Thanks.

Thank you.

I'm sorry.

I didn't go grocery shopping, and...

I'm hungry.

When did you arrive?

About a month ago.

And you?

I was born here.

Like my father and his grandfather before him.

And I'll die here.

That's my life...

Did you ever have a relationship with one of the residents?

A little girl's curiosity.

More than one?

Two.

Did you love them?

I adored them.

And when I think about it, I still love them.

I lost my wife because of them,

and my daughter, too.

You have a daughter?

Yes. Older than you.

You know her.

Sara. The one who cleans the rooms.

Yes, I know her.

She left to live with her mother.

But luckily,

she came back here to work with me.

Dear residents: A reminder that the villa will be rented out tomorrow

for a wedding with a hundred guests.

Guests will arrive at 5 o'clock.

The reception will be held on the terrace.

The wedding cake will be at the loggia.

There will be music in the galleries until 2 a.m.

All the indoor spaces will be occupied.

Entrance to the gardens will be unauthorized.

We apologize for the inconvenience.

The Villa Medici

has to raise 40% of its budget on its own,

hence the necessity for this kind of event.

I hate weddings. They make me want to cry.

I like them. Why do I have to go up?

You'll be happy when you see the view.

You're the one who'll be happy. I don't care.

Just shut up and walk.

Don't lean over that far!

It's OK!

Marc!

-What are you doing? -Come here.

I can't move. I don't know how to get down.

-Want me to call Dad? -Yes.

Dad, come here!

-You all right? -No.

-Are you getting vertigo? -I thought I'd be OK.

Here we go.

-Hang on. -Oh, my love.

There you go.

-Not too fast. -No, no.

Look how beautiful it is. Breathe. That's good.

I'm too attracted to you.

That's not a reason to jump my bones.

I'd feel like I were missing something.

We can't have everything.

I want you because you don't want me!

What do you know?

What do you know?

You've got a mark.

-What's the problem? -I can't write.

I write notes, ideas, the beginnings of chapters...

I start one, I give up, then another...

Did Lucienne really exist?

Yes. She's the sculptor.

The first resident.

When you describe her getting here, how does she walk?

I don't know. She walks...

She's carrying a bag,

a heavy one, I think. She's having trouble

walking...

Hang on.

I'll do Lucienne arriving at the Villa.

I like her limping.

What's wrong?

I'm the one with a limp. You hadn't noticed?

So it's 1911.

She doesn't have much money. She walked from the train.

She's wearing nice shoes; she's a woman; she has to look dignified.

Her feet hurt super bad.

In here, she feels like a trashy woman invited to the prince's palace.

But she's set on proving her worth.

She walks with an uneven gait through the palace.

The day she arrived, she had been limping even more,

weakened from the journey and filled with apprehension.

She's startled by the sound of the door closing behind her.

She stops short, speechless and fascinated.

The palace was awaiting her, proud, imposing, ready to swallow her up.

After dreaming for years of passing through these walls,

she now wondered whether she could still escape it.

But already she was heading up the stairs.

-Hi, Sara. -Hello. Can I come in?

I'd rather not, I'm sorry.

-What's the problem? -There's no problem.

I have to work.

I have to work, too.

Fucking artist...

You know Messaline was murdered here?

Messaline, the nymphomaniac empress?

She wasn't a nymphomaniac. She was a true lover.

Yes, she was a prostitute, but she loved love.

She even wanted to marry her lover

even though she was married to Emperor Claude.

The night of the wedding, the imperial guard showed up

and killed all the guests.

She hid in Lucullus's garden, because she wanted to kill herself

before the guards

found her, but in the end they found her and killed her.

Isn't that crazy?

Your stories freak me out.

I already feel like there's these waves of tensions here.

I don't like your stories.

I don't find it scary; I think it's... Exciting!

Why did you apply?

For the money. Like everyone else!

I'm fed up that it's always the same people.

I've been having such a hard time.

This year it's my turn.

Yeah. I have to drink.

You have to be careful. Being here might make you

want to try to make things that are too perfect, or too... grandiose.

Like what?

Like making something that doesn't resemble life.

Life is chaotic. Accidents happen.

Here everything's too smooth.

May I introduce the Principessa delle Cipolle.

-Hello. -Hello.

-Hello. -Hello.

Wonderful to meet you.

Nice to see you too!

Nice to meet you.

-The Principessa delle Cipolle. -Principessa...

The princess is one of our greatest benefactors.

She's very interested in art, especially photography.

She's the one financing your exhibition.

So he murdered her?

Yeah, really.

And he was a cardinal?

Yes, he was a cardinal, but he was

very... particular. In fact,

he buried one of his favorite mistresses somewhere beneath us.

Want to go to bed?

No, I'm good here. I'm going to stay a while.

It's a school night.

I'll come soon.

-Have fun, Mom. -Goodnight, honey.

Maybe here?

Maybe right there.

-Or in the Bosco. -In the garden.

It's all in her head.

Let's take her into my office.

Come here.

In front of the benefactors!

You know where you are?

You're in a sinking ship.

And then you go and puke all over the people who can save us?

You want me to take you back?

You can't sleep here.

Honestly, I'm done with women.

You're done? You...

I'm living a monastic lifestyle now.

-Since I got here, actually. -Ah...

There were too many weird times with girls who would sleep with me

and then throw me away once they got what they wanted.

Isn't that usually what guys do to girls?

Yeah, but let me tell you. Two girls right after each other.

There's a girl who flirts with me and then throws herself at me,

and I didn't even know her. She takes me home and half rapes me.

Once it was over she threw me out and was like, "Get out of here!"

I couldn't believe it, because...

I wanted to talk with her a little. I was interested in her.

She didn't give a shit.

We're in a new era.

It's the era of... The dictatorship of sex.

Since none of us had to do military service, we feel the need

to compensate by drinking a ton of vodka.

Everyone stayed late.

Axèle drank too much.

She threw up in the director's apartment.

Boris is so cute.

He walked me home,

like something could have happened to me.

He's too nice.

I'm saying that because you're...

You were waiting for me. I don't want you to worry about me.

I'm a big girl.

Hearing about that sleaze is supposed to comfort me?

I didn't say I slept with him.

I said he walked me home.

And he's not sleazy!

He's a great guy!

But if you want me to, I can go get him...

Boris! Wait up, Boris! What are you doing?

What are you doing?

Marc! Open up! Marc?!

Marc!

Open up!

Open the door, Marc!

Are you fucking crazy?

You're crazy.

Raphaëlle!

Did Mom get home late?

This morning.

Ah...

-Honey! -Mom!

Come on, let's get a snack. I'm starving.

The three of us were happy together.

It wasn't always like that.

-He's afraid of you. -Afraid of what?

He's afraid his career's over.

You have your whole life ahead of you.

But he's already at the top. He has no reason...

What are you doing?

He should leave. This year is about you.

I'd kill him if he left.

How would you do it?

They say I'm not brave enough

to kill myself.

But it's not true.

I think I'm going crazy.

I saw things, people...

Ghosts?

The other day,

I saw the Cardinal de' Medici, and just now in the Bosco...

Messaline.

Yes.

It sounds crazy, but I saw them.

You're seeing people who existed, who lived here.

My mother was like you.

She was always saying that she saw Messaline

and dead residents.

I believe in those things.

What was Messaline like?

Still young?

A teenager.

Exactly.

She was only 14 when she married Claude.

The stories that get told about this villa...

When I was little,

they would say that at night,

the ghosts and the statues would get together to make love.

The keys!

Want to hear the story of the Cardinal?

No.

No. I couldn't care less.

All I want is you.

Usually I don't like guys.

That's normal.

Why is it normal?

Because you were made for me.

For me...

and me alone.

-I've done a lot of thinking. -Yes, Cardinal?

I've done a lot of thinking.

I cannot wait indefinitely.

Wait for what, Cardinal?

The papacy.

Is that what you want?

Not...

if I have to die before being crowned.

What I'm interested in today

is the grand duchy of Tuscany.

It belongs to me.

For now, it belongs to your brother.

Exactly. For now.

I will be the Grand Duke in his place.

What are you going to do about your brother?

What does one do about an incompetent Grand Duke?

Then that has nothing to do with me!

And yet, it does.

You don't want me to deal with that kind of thing?

I heard

that the effects of arsenic are quite similar

to those caused by malaria.

Camille?

You're not sleeping either?

You scared me.

Come sit down.

I'm going to bed.

Don't leave me alone like an old dog.

Come here.

I come here every night.

At 3 a.m., when it's completely silent, I write.

And I say to myself, "Camille

"wouldn't never get up at night to write.

"No, she couldn't do it."

Are you an insomniac?

What do you think?

I think that...

You should just take something to sleep.

I don't anymore.

I started writing when I was 13.

I was 15 when I first got published.

It's been a need my whole life.

Women don't have that need.

That's what men say.

It's not a criticism. They need something else.

What's that?

When I was your age, a friend of mine took me to a meeting.

She put a hood over my head. Men weren't allowed.

This woman was...

so... violent,

so aggressive.

That's when I realized how much that role didn't suit them.

They were fooling themselves.

Leave Camille alone.

Go home.

Wait for her in Paris.

We can't live without each other.

I'm sure she'll get along just fine without you.

Have you ever been in love?

Really in love?

I don't know.

She's the love of my life. I don't want her to be taken from me.

Did you read the chapter I left you?

No. I don't have time.

One chapter.

I haven't even written one chapter.

It's crazy how snobby you've gotten since you got here.

Do you realize?

You never used to be like this.

You act like I haven't helped you, socially, to make you what are you.

"I helped you socially to make you what you are."

That's such a great sentence.

"I helped you... socially...

"to make you...

"what you are."

That's intense. I'd better remember that one.

Why are you doing this, Camille?

You're always bothering me.

You're preventing me from working.

I'm afraid to go to bed because I don't know if you'll let me sleep.

You don't like sleeping with me?

What am I supposed to like?

Huh?

That you wake me up at night?

And there's one thing that's not OK. You're always going through my stuff.

You're stealing my ideas.

Now you want to write a story that takes place here.

So? Yes, I take, I steal ideas. That's my life.

That's how it's always been. It's my job.

Taking things from others -- their lives, their words --

and putting them in my books.

You should do the same.

I'm sick of you!

We have to stop. We have to take a break or something.

Only morons take breaks.

Isn't belittling one's wife something morons do, too?

You wouldn't be here without me.

This again?

It's my network.

-Do you really think that? -You know it's true!

I'm here thanks to you?

Well...

Yes!

Yes...

It's not a big deal.

We're partners. We help each other.

-Right. We help each other. -You help me; I help you.

I'm not spending another night with you.

Camille...

I should never have been accepted.

Why do you say that?

I haven't written in three years.

The one thing I've done

is that fucking series of short stories.

I haven't done anything since.

I'm totally blocked.

So blocked that I copy other books.

You know how I got accepted?

I gave them something I copied.

I plagiarized parts of a thesis on Lucienne Heuvelmans.

That's how I got in.

I'm an imposter.

-How did you do it? -Do what?

Disappear from the photo.

I saw you in the fire.

What are you doing here?

He left.

Camille,

it hurts too much to feel that you no longer love me.

I'm going back to Paris.

I love you so, my wife, who I leave behind me.

My partner, for a part of my life.

Goodbye, my love.

I met him when I was 19, so...

I feel like my arm

has been ripped off.

I'm not capable of living without him.

It's just a feeling.

It's something you made up,

or that he made you believe, but it's not true.

He had to leave.

No. He was supposed to stay and support me.

For once.

-He can't do that. -I know.

But even though I know it, I can't understand it.

It's always been that way.

You have to change that.

You have to be strong on your own.

Yes... Yes.

I saw him one night in the gardens.

What did you say?

I told him he should go and leave you alone.

-And let you work. -You said that to him?

You shouldn't have.

Just because I think it doesn't mean you can say it to him.

I did it for you.

But I never asked you to.

You have to be able to remake yourself.

But if we split up, what are we remaking?

That's not remaking anything. It's destroying.

We're destroying.

We're destroying everything.

Already?

I have to go. They're waiting.

You didn't used to care.

You weren't in a rush to leave.

So, you're complaining now?

You act like I'm the one who hit on you.

You weren't against it.

Am I dreaming, or was it you who was always talking about love?

Always?

What made you change?

I don't know.

Fear.

Fear, maybe.

I want to be your lover.

I love touching you, and I love kissing you.

But you want me to be in love with you.

I can't do that.

I'm a whistler.

I whistle my way through life.

She fell into his arms without even realizing it,

without even wanting to.

Though love had never interested her before,

it was because she did not know love.

I saw Lucienne walking in the Bosco.

She was here.

I think I can describe her to you even better now.

She was limping, really limping. She had a black hat.

Are you telling me you saw her ghost?

Yes.

Of course.

She was there.

She seemed to be in a hurry.

Like she was running from something, or someone.

Maybe from you!

She mixed with the darkness, with trouble, with the invisible,

but her allies were more a danger to her than they were protection.

Though they deigned approach her

and enjoyed surprising her,

it was only to better lure her into the darkness.

Dear staff members,

we regret to inform you

that new budget cuts

are forcing us to make cuts to personnel.

Seniority will, of course, be taken into account.

No one has ever complained about my daughter's work.

We understand.

The ministry is forcing us to make these changes.

The Carlo family has worked here for generations.

If you do this, the staff will revolt.

I was never in favor of 19th-century privileges.

In that case, this whole place shouldn't exist.

This is the 19th century here.

France doesn't have the means anymore.

One of these days you'll find my resignation

on your desk. You'll see!

I'd be very sorry to see that, Carlo, but do as you see fit.

What are you doing?

Help me.

Careful.

Let's go, let's go.

His head!

They'll never be able to resell it.

Some old rich guy ordered these sculptures.

They must already be in his house.

I'm sure it was someone from the Villa.

We are all shocked and saddened by tonight's theft.

An investigation is underway which I hope will be quickly concluded.

You all know what this kind of situation can...

I'm afraid this is a warning from the mafia.

This is just their kind of intimidation tactic.

First it's a marble head; next it'll be...

I've been investigating

them for almost six months now. They know it.

-Listen, Pierre... -No, seriously!

Listen, Pierre. I don't think we should panic for no reason.

-The police... -They're in the mafia's pocket.

We're not in a novel, Pierre!

Where's Camille?

Camille has other problems.

It's her husband, the writer. He left her.

Too bad. He seemed nice.

Who's there?

It's Pierre.

For your daughter.

She's not here.

Ah!

Then it's for us.

We haven't seen each other much.

No. That's true.

You know,

this wasn't really... random.

When I heard...

that you were having problems, I decided to come see you.

That's nice.

You know, there's no continuity in life.

What?

I spend all year avoiding you.

On purpose.

And you, too, right?

Yeah. We were both with someone, and...

It was better that way.

I'm not wrong, am I?

Sorry.

I'm not really doing too well right now.

-Excuse me. -It's all right.

Usually I would be getting vertigo, but I'm not.

Nothing at all!

To our loves!

Something crazy is happening to me.

Remember the first day, when we were at the director's place?

One of the residents kind of caught my eye.

Pierre.

But we never talked after that.

I didn't think he was attracted to me.

And then with everything with Marc,

I didn't think about it.

And then last night, super late, he shows up at my place,

just like that. And he tells me that

since the first day, when he saw me...

But that he stopped himself, because we were both married.

Anyway, we ended up giving in.

You gave in...

Yeah!

We threw ourselves at each other.

-What are you doing? -What am I doing?

I'm leaving.

The greedy bastards fired us!

But why?

This apartment, where my father was born,

and then myself, and my daughter,

will be turned into a hotel room. Do you understand?

You can't leave.

What are you talking about?

They're throwing me out, and I'm supposed to stay?

I'm leaving once I sell the furniture.

But you'll be there for my exhibit?

No.

Why the hell would I go to a gallery opening

with the director of this hotel and that old bitch of a princess?

Don't cry!

I can't stand girls who cry.

Take this one down.

What's she doing?

It's just stage fright.

And this one, too.

This is all nothing!

It's just bunch of wasted shit!

What are trying to get them to believe?

Let me go!

This is my work! They're my photos!

It's my head!

Carino,

do you really love birds that much?

Yes.

They're more fun than Christ,

and less depressing.

You're my favorite.

Then you shouldn't see anyone but me.

But then you couldn't be my favorite anymore.

I'll never find anyone who weighs them as well as you.

They're heavier than last time.

Even heavier?

Yes. I don't know why,

but they're heavier every time.

My sweet...

I adore you. I eat you up...

No!

No one could dictate her own end.

She dressed herself in the clothes the Cardinal handed her.

Bird of fire and spirit, only the child recognizes you.

Only death can tame you.

Black nights of childish terror

until her memory was erased to better surprise and rule.

It's was bird, Mom! I saw it!

Protective mantel of the night,

recollections and nightmares become one.

We can count on our dreams alone to remember.

Yes?

What are you doing here?

Don't speak.

I've suffered as much as you.

I'm at a hotel. I'll come back when you want.

What if I don't want?

Then I won't come back.

-Give me your hand. -No.

Please!

I speak about the child I am not.

I speak about the place where I am not.

I speak in the name of a freedom I don't have, but that I crave.

I speak in your name, for myself,

to make myself that which I am not.

What I ask of you is to bring me your flame.

What I ask of you is to let me watch you,

to open the door inside me I'm not aware of.

I sent it to the publishing house I told you about.

You're still OK with that?

Of course. I'm so happy.

-It's a great publisher. -Yes, I know.

I really liked the photographer character.

Me too.

She's... She has everything I'd like to have.

I thought she was a lot like you.

It's going to be

hard to go back to reality.

This time

we're all going together.

Dear residents:

You have until tomorrow at the latest to have vacated your apartments.

THE END OF A FRENCH DREAM

As you know, the Villa Medici has changed hands.

We have until the beginning of July to vacate the premises.

She is at home here.

As much as you might camouflage, disguise, sell,

or anything else, nothing,

nothing will ever make these walls lie.

From now on, they belong to her.

Subtitling: Hiventy