Original subtitles

THOSE WHO MAKE REVOLUTION HALFWAY ONLY DIG THEIR OWN GRAVES

Were you afraid this was the end of democracy?

At first, we thought it was.

But it would only be fleeting.

Because people were not going to sit still.

It had happened before in our history.

The feeling we had reached a point of no return.

Ok, go.

Go!

We did it!

PEOPLE DO NOT YET SEE THEY ARE MISERABLE.

WE WILL SHOW THEM!

I SEARCHED FOR A REASON TO LIVE IN THE ABSTRACT,

WHEN IT HAD TO BE FOUND IN LIFE. IN ACTION.

We said we wouldn't do this again.

We're at war.

We can't let these things happen anymore.

I know.

CHAREST: RESIGN

SICK OF NEOLIBERAL IDEAS

I've long been wandering

and I came back to the deserted horror of your wounds.

Embrace me fearlessly.

For if I know only to speak,

I shall speak for you.

My mouth shall be the mouth of mouthless calamities.

My voice the freedom of those that fade in the jails of despair.

And may my body and soul

keep from standing still as would a mere onlooker

for life is not a spectacle.

Because a sea of suffering is not a stage.

Because a screaming man is not a prancing bear.

After twelve weeks of striking.

Assemblies. Solidarity. Arrests. Protests.

What do we get?

Nothing!

The tuition hike is pushed back six months

while a biased committee

writes a report to screw us over?

Is this what we want?

No!

Sorry, but no!

The student union is trying to lure us back into school

so we'll lose all our leverage.

Three months out in the streets for this?

No!

People are sick of the student conflict

because each side is letting the situation worsen.

We're sticking to partisan positions

and will not negotiate.

It can't go on like that.

I'm not here to say the government's right.

I fucking hope not!

I'm not here to say the government's right.

But it's not by antagonising people

that we'll get them to support our cause.

It's just a start!

The man on the street won't support us...

Fuck the man on the street!

If we're blocking Champlain Bridge at rush hour.

Who cares?

We shoot ourselves in the foot when we do things like that.

No!

The government's strategy is crystal clear.

They won't budge because they want the next election

to be a referendum on tuition increase.

With this in mind, what are our options?

There's only one possible reaction.

We end the strike and wait out the election.

Because this strike penalizes students first!

Please.

Seriously, think about it. Who are the real losers?

Us, of course! We risk losing...

Hey pussy boy! Your semester's already gone! Move on!

By enduring violence and by refusing to respond,

we break a cycle that leads only to more violence.

Exposing the scandal of oppression and injustice, we open eyes.

We awaken the adversary's moral sense as well as public opinion,

which exerts pressure on it.

Get on with it!

What a waste of time!

The adversary can't persist in a path of violence.

He sees he's wrong...

in a conversion to peace, - Speed it up!

But not in a spirit of defeat and vengeance.

Move on!

Non-violence is not inertia. It's not resignation,

much less cowardice.

Non- violence, as Gandhi said...

Gandhi? Gandhi!

...is not shying away from a fight when faced with hostility.

On the contrary, it's an even more energetic,

more authentic form of battle...

Give back that mic! Now!

Enough of this bullshit!

This is no time for passive resistance!

The state is decapitating us!

The only thing the government understands is terror!

This strike can't just be an excuse to skip class.

Think bigger!

Open your eyes, for fuck's sake!

We're a laughing stock.

We have no power in a capitalist society.

None!

Your pan-banging protests,

do you think they impress our leaders?

No way! They're about to open a pots and pans factory

to milk more money out of you!

No matter what we do, if we don't hit their ability

to exploit and profit, it's completely useless.

I demand the dissolution of this student assembly!

I formally demand the dissolution of this student assembly!

My name: Offended.

My first name: Humiliated.

My state: Revolted.

My age: The Stone Age.

My race? My religion?

My race: The fallen one.

My religion?

Your meekness will not lay the grounds for it.

I will.

With my revolt and my pathetic fists and my unkempt head.

Alas, you will die.

Killed.

I killed him with my own hands.

Yes. Of a fruitful and lusty death.

Night had fallen.

We crawled amongst the sugarcanes.

The knives glinted gleefully under the stars,

but we had no care for stars.

The sugarcanes lacerated our faces

with a tide of green blades.

I had dreamt of a son who would close his dead mother's eyes.

I chose to open my son's eyes under another sun.

On a November night,

a clamour suddenly lit up the silence.

We the slaves had sprung.

We the manure. We the beasts with the hoofs of patience.

We ran like madmen, as gunshots rang out.

We struck.

Refreshed with sweat and blood.

We struck amidst the cries

and the cries grew shrill and a great clamour rose to the east.

Our own were burning and the flames caressed our cheeks.

Then came the assault on our master's house.

They shot at us from the windows.

We broke in.

And the master's bedroom was there.

Wide open.

Brilliantly lit.

And the master sat there.

So calm.

We stopped.

Here was the master.

I entered.

It's you, said he, calmly.

It was me. Indeed it was.

The good slave, the obedient slave, the slavish slave.

And suddenly his eyes were two fearful cockroaches in the rain.

I struck!

Blood spurted.

The sole baptism I remember still.

We sweated buckets, right Gilles?

We worked till we were sore.

No pain no gain!

But we were too nice afterwards.

We raised a generation of spoiled brats and crybabies.

After me. The flood! We hadn't heard that one in a while.

A bunch of lazy bums who want it all but won't work for it.

We're not all like that, dad!

Like all small nations,

our only hope is education.

That should be our priority.

Not raising old people's life expectancy

by pouring half our GDP in hospitals!

Education is all we have.

To preserve our culture and knowledge,

we must pass them on!

There goes the separatists' broken record!

Don't be a laughingstock!

If they ruin my semester, I lose a year's income!

I'll sue them if that happens! - My income,

my semester, my job, me, me, me!

Pull your head out of your ass for a change!

Roxanne! We said no fighting today.

Sure! Who likes fights in Québec?

Who likes loudmouths?

Let's not talk about dropouts. Or tuition hikes. Or climate change.

Independence? Let's not talk about that either!

Who has time for that? We're so busy paying mortgages

on our upstart mansions and checking gas prices

for our SUVs because we're too fat to walk now!

Right pops?

I can't believe my ears, Roxanne!

You've been around the world with your backpack...

We're citizens of the world, now!

Citizens of the world? Give me a break!

Are the Finns closed-minded because they're Finnish?

Would they be more open-minded if they let Russia annex them?

No! Why is it different for us?

She's a true separatist!

Like you back then! - That was in another life!

I was young and ignorant.

To quote François Legault, "I've come a long way"!

You've "come a long way"? What does that mean?

You disavowed everything you once believed in?

Betraying youthful ideals isn't enough?

You also have to make enough dough to be able to roll in it like a pig

with your upstart friends!

Enough bullshit!

Your ass is lined with gold!

You study the "fine arts", you mould toilet bowls

and take pictures of dead cats!

Always free of charge because daddy has money!

And you dare shit on my head?

Christ!

You don't want to study, you don't want to work...

What do you want exactly?

Tell me! I'm listening!

That's what I thought! You don't even know!

I'll tell you what you want, you and your friends.

The only thing you want is other people's money!

Whether it's your parents' or the government's,

it's the same damn thing! But working for money?

Getting up in the morning from time to time? Making an effort?

No, fuck no! You're above that!

At some point, you'll have to start living in the real world.

Money doesn't grow on trees!

Your iPhone and your MacBook and your iPad and your camera

and your goddamn misunderstood artist's toys,

who paid for all that?

Funny. I didn't hear you mention ideals

and grand principles and independence

when I pulled out my credit card to buy all that!

Still, let's blame the baby boomers! Nothing's our fault!

FOR OVER A CENTURY WE HAVE BEEN SAVING THE SPOILS OF OUR FAILURES.

FEROCIOUSLY. AND IF EVERY QUARTER CENTURY

WE SUMMON A VAIN IMPULSE TO QUESTION THE SYSTEM,

WE ARE QUICK TO GO BACK TO OUR FAULTS,

THE SYSTEM APPEARING LESS SUSPECT THAN OURSELVES.

SUCH IS THE CRUEL MOTION OF A HISTORY THAT TIRELESSLY

THROWS US TO THE GROUND.

Enough is enough! In our time we marched, we campaigned, we...

We were overwhelmed by an immense sadness.

Because another democratic experiment in this country

was ending in a show of arms.

The attempts of a people to find a means of coexistence

once again clashed with rigidity and authoritarianism.

This sadness won over our rage and our shame

and triggered a sepulchral silence during the first minutes.

Out of the way, bitch!

REVOLUTIONS BEGIN WHEN DESTINY AVENGES ILLUSTRIOUS INDIGENTS

The earth might well stop turning when we're gone.

Meanwhile we only care about our own comfort.

The heated seats in our Mercedes. The caviar canapés

and the Prada bags bouncing off our fat asses.

You, youthful old man.

Yeah, I'm talking to you!

Your only ambition is to take the place

of the silver heads without changing anything.

Fucking traitor.

Fucking collaborator!

You won't take your money to your grave!

How's your plonk?

Go on, drink. For this is our blood,

the blood of the poor, the filthy, the disreputable.

Our blood, poured for you, only for you,

until we die like stray dogs left to rot in the streets.

What's wrong?

You mind seeing us here?

We're ruining your appetite?

It feels good to flash your big cars and your jewels

in poor, gentrifying neighbourhoods?

As long as the rabble doesn't spoil the view, right?

You fucking people.

Just give me one shot.

Go away!

Shithead.

These fucking thieves can kiss my ass.

How much for a bowl of greens?

It doesn't make any sense.

Really. It's grand theft.

Ready? - Yep.

Great!

A chicken!

It's a fucking invasion.

We will not settle for the middle ground.

We are gut-wrenchers.

We will accept nothing short of grandeur.

Until we are torn apart, destroyed, exploded.

We will never die.

Our thirst grows.

We're ravenous consumers in this immense marketing

from which nothing escapes.

In a continent-century where the law of the jungle rules ferociously,

winter's wounded will be merciless.

The prettiest pygmy sticks her thick short tongue

in reasonable tourists' big white ears.

You get used to being emptied.

They're women of negation, losers,

lumberjack-ladies disconnected from reality.

Their absence serves the saddest cause.

But we...

We are desire.

Old ladies defy their veins' rheostats, give hard-ons to scars

and converse at the orifice of bodies.

Our madness doesn't neutralize the scandal's efficiency.

Drinkers, scab at the frontier of bones,

piss off the dancer trapped in the circle of lies.

We must learn to leave every day.

Dangerous little girls with hard-ons

spread death along the highway.

DON'T LAUGH AT THE YOUNG GENERATION.

YOU'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND THAT IT IS POSSIBLE TO LIVE

ONLY WITH THE DESIRE FOR FREEDOM AND GOOD.

YOU WON'T UNDERSTAND THE BELLIGERENT ARDOUR

ENFLAMING THE HEART OF THE WARRIOR. AND THAT AN ADOLESCENT CAN DIE,

LOYAL TO THE END TO HIS PRINCIPLES.

Before them,

men died in the name of what they knew,

or what they thought they knew.

From them onwards, we took the more difficult habit

of self-sacrificing for something of which we knew nothing,

except that one had to die for it to exist.

Until then, those who had to die

appealed to God against Man's justice.

But now, one is struck by the fact that all, without exception,

turn from their judges to seek the justice of other men,

still to come.

These men of the future, in the absence of supreme values,

were their last resort.

The future is the only transcendence

that godless men can aspire to.

VAUDREUIL IN HOMAGE TO CANON LIONEL GROULX

Attention.

Due to an unexpected incident, service is temporarily suspended

on the green line between Atwater and Honoré-Beaugrand stations.

Updates will follow.

Your Honour, the mother of the accused

wishes to address the court

before you reach a decision.

The court is listening.

Your Honour.

With help from my family and friends,

I raised $15,000

which may serve as bail,

should you decide to free Karine while she awaits her trial.

Karine could stay with me.

I would keep an eye on her and on those she meets up with.

I want to stress that my daughter is a good person.

She's been a bit lost recently,

but that's because of a lack of direction.

Her father was never present.

He was never there for her.

It affected her more than I...

What does my father have to do with anything?

Nothing! Can't you understand that?

Miss Dumas!

Only speak when you're asked to!

And by the way, you're in no position

to school your mother!

Please go on, madam.

Please rise and keep silent.

Miss, may I ask you to please rise.

Give yourself a chance.

I won't tell you again.

Karine!

Please.

Please sit.

The court has decided

to release Karine Dumas on bail until her trial.

The conditions of her release are as follows.

Karine Dumas shall move in with her mother.

She shall not go near any metro station, train station

or airport.

She shall submit to a curfew. To be detailed later.

She shall not take part in public demonstrations

and shall. Of course.

Avoid any trouble with the law.

She shall also report to the police station

regularly.

I think you're underestimating the situation's seriousness.

Let me be clear.

Should you fail to submit to even one of these conditions,

an arrest warrant will be issued

and you will find yourself in jail.

Is that something you can understand?

I'll be frank with you.

Without your mother's moving testimony...

That brave and dignified woman...

You would be on your way to a correctional facility.

You could at least thank her!

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you!

Thank you!

Thank you!

The hearing is adjourned!

Get her out of here before I change my mind!

A candidate for the Liberal Party of Canada.

Especially not partisan politics.

Maybe this lacks realism,

because I believe that people are tired

of seeing their cynicism towards politicians

confirmed by politicians.

Now more than ever, Canadians are feeling the urge

to take responsible actions.

Bold steps at home and throughout the world

to counter the destruction of the environment,

to reduce the gap between rich and poor

and to address the rise of intolerance between nations.

And because of that, we are becoming aware

that each of us potentially plays a role.

A girl. She's alone.

What does she want at this hour?

Relax. She must be selling something.

I'll go.

Hello... Sir? Madam?

I hope I'm not waking you up?

Kind of, yes.

We're going door to door this morning

to raise awareness about a very important project.

I won't take much of your precious time,

but if you could sign this petition asking the district to grant

the status of "Green Alley"

to the magnificent alleyway behind your home.

Not the best moment for that.

Do you know Mr. Larrivée?

Your neighbour two houses down.

Nope.

It doesn't matter.

He's the one who coined the name!

"The Shining Alley of the Sweet Incline."

What?

"The Shining Alley of the Sweet Incline."

Sorry, but this really isn't the right place to...

A quick signature? It'll take three seconds.

Not a lot to change the world!

Change the world?

Of course.

The green alley concept is at the heart of the new local social fabric.

And it helps counter urban heat islands!

That's how you change the world?

Certainly sir!

Every gesture counts.

Your signature to change the world?

Somebody's waiting inside, I'll have to go.

Thank you for listening!

You'll see. Once we all unite, we'll get our green alley!

Sure you didn't want to sign?

We'll show you how to change the world.

One heat island at a time!

In the following minutes, You will feel the effects

of a fever, nausea, back pains and fatigue.

You're the victim of a nascent conscience.

But don't be mistaken.

These are also the symptoms resulting from the inhalation

of the anthrax bacillus.

Don't wait for respiratory arrest to seek help.

We're proclaiming these times to be those of red blood!

Tomorrow we'll be free!

In the following minutes, you will start to feel

the effects of a nascent conscience.

A spectre is haunting the West. The spectre of its youth.

The powers that be have united in a hallowed pack to hunt it down.

On the front line: Reactionary police forces.

The power of youth has been acknowledged by the powers that be.

But youth itself doesn't recognize its revolutionary calling.

This vocation and this duty are transhistorical.

It's incumbent upon us to dethrone our fathers.

The time is ripe for youth to show the world their will,

their ideas, their goals, their tendencies.

The legends of the spectre of youth must be opposed

by a concerted action, more terrifying still.

I'm calling upon you, newly awakened freedom fighters,

to form commandos, cells and antennas.

Seek inspiration in guerrilla and revolutionary terrorism.

Attack when they pull back and disappear when they regroup.

We will fight like Cerberus,

each of us one of his raging heads.

Each of us a breach in this evil empire.

Each of us an arrogant challenge to this retrograde world order.

Any victory over this order and its lackeys

will be a victory for freedom.

EVERYWHERE TOGETHER, NAKED BUT SECRET.

UNITED WITH OUR BROTHERS BY THE BONDS OF REVOLUTION AND SILENCE,

WE LEARNED IN THE SMELL OF GUNPOWDER

THE EXALTED GESTURES OF BLISS AND HOW TO SCREAM.

Youth will not appreciate its life without giving it meaning,

it will not kneel and hide its opinions and projects.

It proclaims that its goals can only be achieved

through the violent reversal of the social order of the past.

May the ruling classes tremble at this very idea!

Comrades, get ready for war.

Don't relegate your indignation to some spectator of despair.

Shed a tear. Scream out loud.

Take to the streets to defend your own.

Criminal. He who submits to pacifist forces,

he who revels in servitude, he who tolerates the intolerable.

He who bends down without having dealt a single blow.

We have nothing to lose.

Only our chains.

And a world to win.

A number of suspicious packages discovered in various locations.

That's right, and more are turning up.

You can see the firemen and the paramedics here,

because five buildings in Montréal have received envelopes which,

according to the police, contain an unidentified substance.

Possibly a powder, according to our sources.

A small group identified as the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Québec

sent fourteen envelopes containing a mysterious powder.

Two envelopes were sent to the prime minister's office.

I think this is a clear attempt at intimidation

and of course the government will not let itself be intimidated.

Maxime, we're seeing this live, a huge deployment of police forces

triggered by this wave of suspicious parcels.

Yes. Here. A minister's office has been targeted.

You can see they set up a security perimeter

to isolate the people who have been in contact with the substance.

You can see them. With the red blankets.

The group claiming responsibility for these parcels,

the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Québec,

undoubtedly inspired by the FLQ, a late sixties radical group.

We have it from reliable sources that they're known to the police

and that a vast investigation is currently underway

to cast light upon these curious missives.

IN THIS SILENT LAND, MOTIONLESS AS A GREAT BLOODLESS BODY,

THE LIVING WERE SUDDENLY WONDERING ABOUT THEMSELVES

AS IF THEY FACED DEATH. THEY WERE NOT WRONG.

Everyone's talking about it!

Here too.

Even there, on the homepage.

ANTHRAX ALERT: A HOAX?

They had to figure it out at some point.

Isn't it weird that they finally got it?

Look here.

They still think it's true!

What the hell?

You have no fucking right!

We look like a bunch of fucking idiots!

You're proud of your amateur dramatics?

They had to figure it out at some point...

Flour-filled envelopes!

Did you think they'd die of hypochondria?

You should've said so last week if you disagreed!

Stop freaking out and pull yourself together!

Smells good.

Smells good.

Thank you.

I left it on the table for you.

ALL REVOLUTIONARIES ARE NAIVE:

THEY TRUST IN MANKIND! WHAT A FLAW!

Karine Dumas?

First time out on bail?

Excuse me, but this is an official appointment.

Can you answer the questions clearly?

Ask the questions if you want me to answer them.

Ok. We'd better start again.

Can I call you by your first name? - No.

How's bail, Karine? Being back at your mom's place and all?

How's bail, Karine? Being back at your mom's place and all?

Is that any of your business?

Have you reflected on what happened, and the reasons behind your actions?

I thought you wanted to make sure I wasn't running away,

but really I'm here for lessons in morality?

Is it going well in Longueuil with your mom?

Yes.

Do you have a summer job?

No.

I hope you're not giving me bad grades.

You're keeping clear of unsavoury acquaintances?

Yes. Colonel!

Lieutenant, I mean.

What was that?

Nothing.

Listen here, princess.

Thirty years I've been on this job. I've seen a shitload of stuff.

Stop your little act and pull yourself together.

I love rough talk.

I don't think the message is getting through.

You're in a police station. You're on bail. I'm a policeman.

You're in a police station. You're on bail. I'm a policeman.

Not some teacher you fool around with at university.

You're not banging on pots in a trendy neighbourhood!

Authority figures turn me on.

What the fuck was that?

You little fuck! Stop smirking before I make you stop.

Are you threatening me, lieutenant? Are you going to hit me?

It won't go down well on your TV show.

Where's your cell phone?

I don't have one. - Bullshit.

You guys record everything.

Of course people do that. You're filming too.

But sometimes it seems like your cameras malfunction.

Bits go missing! Funny, isn't it?

You've no right. Give that back!

You've no right. Give that back!

You need a warrant!

I didn't get the memo!

I know my rights! Let go!

Give me that!

It's mine, give it back!

You little bitch!

Let me go fucker!

What if I don't? What happens if I don't let go?

What's wrong Karine?

Not in the mood anymore?

He's really good, isn't he?

Good night.

Good night darling. Sleep well.

I BURN WITH IMPATIENCE

AT THE THOUGHT OF MULTIPLE TERROR ATTACKS,

A PURE AND SHATTERING GESTURE

THAT WILL BRING BACK MY URGE TO LIVE

AND CONSECRATE ME AS A TERRORIST, IN THE STRICTEST INTIMACY.

Tumulto!

Giutizia!

Ordine Nuovo!

Klas Batalo!

Yesterday doesn't exist. Tomorrow is a distant dream.

Today, we are born!

INTERLUDE

TOMORROW THE REVOLUTION WILL RISE UP AGAIN,

CLASHING ITS WEAPONS. AND TO YOUR TERROR

IT WILL PROCLAIM WITH TRUMPETS BLAZING:

I WAS, I AM, I SHALL BE!

June. The villagers beseech heaven to bless their crops.

June. The villagers beseech heaven to bless their crops.

He has renewed His miracle on the shores of the St. Lawrence.

He has lifted His hand over the furrows

and blessed the fields of Charlevoix and the neighbouring mountains.

Let me go!

You're crushing my face!

What are you doing?

Nothing.

I'm reading notes. I'll rewrite the manifesto this week.

Let me go!

You'll have to explain this.

I'm accusing myself today, before you,

of being guilty of the crime of nostalgia.

I'm guilty of having let myself be lulled

by the comforting and numbing sweetness of my past,

while I swore before you to live only in the moment.

In the present.

Looking back is to feel gratified by something gone.

To feel gratified by your own death.

Your own insignificance.

The only way to stop dying,

is to refuse all forms of gratification

that do not come from concrete.

Tangible, present action.

By miring myself in nostalgia

like a pig rolling in its own shit,

I betrayed a fundamental principle of our brotherhood.

I can promise you now...

That I will not slip again into this deathly nostalgia.

But I understand.

I understand my word now lacks any value in your eyes.

I can see that my weakness...

my cowardice and my egotism weaken our group.

I know that I have not risen up to your dedication,

your lucidity, and your courage.

I no longer deserve your friendship, much less your welcome.

I'll do anything you ask of me to stay here, with you.

But I understand.

I understand that exile and ostracism

are probably the only punishment I deserve for my stupidity.

Show us that you want to stay.

Show us!

That's enough!

Stop! We've had enough!

Tell him to stop!

No!

Show us how far you're willing to go!

Stop!

Leave him!

Harder!

Harder!

What is it going to take next time?

You're not fighting our fight anymore.

It's your own battle.

You against yourself.

I don't know you anymore.

HEAD BURROWED UNDER MANURE

MORIBUND SOCIETIES MOAN OUT THEIR SWANSONG.

WHAT WERE YOU HOPING FOR,

WHEN YOU REMOVED THE GAG THAT KEPT THEIR MOUTHS SHUT?

THAT THEY WOULD SING YOUR PRAISE?

OUR FATHERS' HEADS HAD BEEN FORCIBLY BENT DOWN TO THE GROUND.

DID YOU THINK, WHEN THEY WERE RAISED AGAIN.

THAT YOU WOULD READ ADORATION IN THEIR EYES?

You're going back home, dear.

WHERE SHALL I FIND THE STRENGTH TO LOVE?

I HAVE AT LEAST THE FORCE TO HATE.

IT IS BETTER THAN FEELING NOTHING.

Thanks.

My pleasure.

You're reading this?

No. It's been lying there for a while.

My god, Rosa Luxemburg...

I read that, when I was young.

Maybe it doesn't show

but I was something of a revolutionary in my time.

The long hair, the beard...

And this!

Rosa, Trotsky, Marx, Fanon... Che Guevara...

I read it all.

One must work and do all one can,

but take all the rest with lightness and good humour.

Pent-up bitterness surely doesn't make life any easier.

You understood that some time ago, right?

Young people get that.

I have another client coming.

Maybe we misjudged things, back then...

Stay human.

Joyously throw your life on the scales of destiny,

but also rejoice from each sunny day, each beautiful cloud.

Throw your life on the scales of destiny...

Funny reading that today.

It had never hit me. Back then.

That a revolutionary could be happy once in a while.

We only ever saw the serious side.

Anyone who had fun was suspect.

Maybe that was the problem.

We took it way too seriously.

Can you get dressed? I have to clear the room.

No problem.

You must not care to hear me talk like this.

Don't forget. Even if you're busy or hastily crossing the yard,

absorbed by urgent tasks, don't forget to look up for a moment

and to gaze at the silvery clouds and the peaceful blue ocean

in which they swim.

This day will never come back.

Shut up, you fucking pig!

I tried, you know?

But at some point you get old.

You get scared.

You have to work, earn some money.

And in order to do that.

You must leave aside your delusions of grandeur.

One morning you wake up and look in the mirror...

And you see my face.

The face of a guy who's no better than others,

but no worse either.

It's quite fun your little solo project.

Oh, that's what's bothering you?

No. It's a question of principle.

We developed principles, we should respect them.

You're so puerile.

Puerile?

We've always said that we'd do nothing

without everyone's agreement. Quite simple, isn't it?

We've been talking about this for three months.

Exactly! It's been three months since we started planning it.

But we never decided that it was the moment to do it.

You could've told us...

How many times have we discussed this? We all agreed!

We agreed that the timing was not right. Let's stay coherent!

Easy to invoke coherence when you sit still and do fuck all!

You call this nothing?

And you? Did you...

What? Go ahead!

Did you ask us before stealing these guns?

Ask for what? They're from my parents' place!

And what will your parents deduct,

when they see that their guns are gone?

Nothing! - Really?

They don't know where I am!

You OK?

I'm done with the massage parlour.

LET US REMEMBER THAT SADNESS IS FECUND IN GREAT THINGS,

AND THAT THE ONLY WAY TO HELP OUR POOR COUNTRY STAND UP

IS TO SHOW IT THE ABYSS INTO WHICH IT HAS SUNK.

When revolutionary circumstances develop in a country

where the spirit of revolt has not yet awakened the masses,

a spirit which triggers protests, riots and uprisings,

only through action can minorities rouse the feeling of independence

and the bold spirit without which no revolution can be accomplished.

The masses may initially be indifferent,

while admiring the courage of the instigators.

They may initially prefer to follow the wise, the prudent,

those who are quick to categorize this act as "madness",

those who'll say that the hooligans will only do harm.

End of the world, you are not far.

Deep down we thought we were on an endless voyage.

But discovered the earth is flat.

The earth our image.

And now the end of the world. We must stop, we are here.

We can't just sit on our asses.

We must do something. We must move, go further.

What does "going further" mean to you?

Stealing more stuff from your parents' place?

Fuck off.

What's it going to change?

Do you think the people will suddenly open their eyes?

We now have to set out on a pilgrimage

and trace back to where we came from.

Rancour at the heels of our sorrow.

We swim against the tide of our mirage,

without turning our backs to the new voices of our riches.

We have been standing still, alone, for too long.

We have already lost heart by stopping.

Remember that graffiti the hooligans scrawled over the bridge?

The people do not yet see they're miserable.

We will show them!

Idiot!

We gather around the space of what we don't have

the definitive reality of what we could have.

Colonies and possessions and a whole archipelago

made both in the image of and lured towards that point,

at the very centre of what we don't have -

which is desire.

You went to French school? - Yes I did.

I didn't speak English until I was six.

Not until you were six?

Yes.

No English was spoken in your family?

We spoke French at home.

The whole neighbourhood was French!

Beaulieu St. And...

Boisvert St. And...

And the club... French old timers playing cards and pool.

They baked meat pies for Christmas and New Year's

and raised a ruckus.

And once a year, French Canadians from Québec

came down in dog sleighs, in the snow. To celebrate.

In Lowell. Massachusetts!

CRIMINAL ARSON: FOUR DEAD FAMILY LIVED ABOVE THE RESTAURANT

You ok?

I'm ok.

IN ANY NOTABLE HISTORICAL PERIOD, GENERATIONS ARISE WITH THE FEELING

THAT THEY ARE LIVING ON THE THRESHOLD OF A NEW ERA.

FOR THEM, EVERY NIGHT THE STARS RISE UP FROM THE OCEAN

AS THEY DID OVER THE CARAVELS

THEY FIND THEMSELVES DESIRING THESE NEW LANDS AND TIMES,

LOVING THEM PASSIONATELY AS IF THEY WERE THEIR OWN, THEIR RIGHT.

IN THE SOUL OF THE YOUNG PEOPLE OF MY TIME.

THERE WAS SOME OF THIS FEVERISH AND JOYOUS EXPECTATION.

You don't look well.

No, I'm ok.

And you? How are you?

I'm working too much. I should take it easy but...

What else am I going to do?

You're not in school?

Do you have a job?

No.

How do you make ends meet?

I get by.

Where do you live now?

Same place.

Where's that?

Never mind.

Eat.

You should call your mom.

Difficult. We don't have a phone.

How can you live without a phone?

There are other ways to live, dad.

And no, we don't have a TV.

Your brother was asking about you.

His girlfriend had a baby.

A girl! You should see how pretty she is.

Just like her mom!

You're an uncle now!

What's her name?

They called her Emy.

Are you free now? We could go see them before rush hour.

They're right by the bridge.

It's not... - He'd be so happy!

Not great timing for me.

Listen. Dad...

I have to go.

I'm out of time.

Finish your plate...

I can't.

Listen...

I wanted to tell you.

I know we're different you and me.

But I'm worried about you.

Bye Dad.

You have to eat something.

There's nothing left. Zero.

It all went bad.

How long since we paid the bills?

Three months? Six months?

Come on. We'll take care of it.

I'm coming!

Let me go!

Let go, crazy bitch!

Karine?

Fuck!

Help me Karine! They'll kill me!

Get a fucking grip!

I have the cash!

Let's go!

I accuse myself

of having put the group's security at risk.

And I am guilty.

I am guilty of having been a coward and a weakling.

I am guilty of lacking courage, the main value needed

for the defence of our ideals.

And I am guilty.

I accuse myself of the direst crime one can commit:

Doubting the legitimacy of our struggle,

and the moral righteousness of our actions.

I accuse myself of being too weak to rise up to your struggle.

And I am guilty.

I accuse myself of selfishly wishing to renounce one of our actions.

Knowing that the group had decided it had to be done

when I should have thanked my lucky star to find myself

at the frontline of the revolution.

And I am guilty.

I know that my place is no longer here with you.

The only thing I can ask of you now,

is for your disdain to equal my mediocrity.

No one here wants you to go.

Stop it!

Stop!

I'm uncertain too. We're all uncertain.

CONCLUSIONS FALL UPON US LIKE RIPE FRUIT.

WE HAVE ONLY ONE OPTION... TO NOT BE FREE.

FOR US...

A NATION HAS A HARD TIME LEARNING HOW TO RID ITSELF

OF SUCH LONG DISENCHANTMENT

WE ARE THE STRONGEST MY FRIENDS,

BUT WE DO NOT KNOW IT

BECAUSE WE ARE STILL DOMINATED BY FEAR

FOR WE WHO DO NOT BELIEVE IN GOD.

IT IS EITHER JUSTICE FOR ALL

OR UTTER DESPAIR

WE SUFFER FROM THE DIFFUSE AND CREEPING SORROW

THE VANQUISHED AND THE FORECLOSED OF THE WORLD SUFFER FROM:

A SORROW THAT DOES NOT YET KNOW ITSELF AS SUCH. WE DO NOT KNOW,

BECAUSE WE ARE SAID TO BE HAPPY. THAT FROM AN INVISIBLE WOUND

FLOWS OUR VERY LIFE. WE ARE A WORN OUT PEOPLE

THAT DEATH LONG AGO BEGUN TO PETRIFY.

Karine isn't here? - No, why?

She's not in the apartment, so I was just wondering.