All language subtitles for Whatever.Happened.To.My.Revolution.2018.FRENCH.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-ESub-English

I can see myself at 13 or so
entering the kitchen

to tell Dad,
as he did the dishes,

"I want to invent ideas
to change the world."

Then I told him,

"I'd like to improve people's lives
by applying those ideas."

This is a bus lane, dammit!

Sorry.

And as the city

is ideal for people to meet...

No bikes on the sidewalk, shit!

...talk, clash,

exchange
and make unexpected connections,

I became an urban planner.

Thank you.
Have a good day.

That way, on a daily basis,
I can fight for spaces

where people can be together.

Not just icy esplanades
for so-called conviviality

with "relaxation areas"
or "audacious greening".

It's hard putting theory
into practice.

But I see urban planning
as a political struggle.

A total commitment since forever.

The silent Prozac generation

Know what the Prozac generation says?

There!

We've always been open, Angèle,
without taboos.

Today, given the current situation,

we can't pay a second salary.

We'll get an intern.

We call them job trainees now.

The costs are too high.

Social contributions, Annabelle,
not the costs.

We help society...

Angèle, start by taking some time off,

then become self-employed.

As a challenge.

I think that kind of flexibility
can be positive.

Right?

Yes, that can be good too.

You'll see, very nice.

Venice?

No, it can be very nice, Angèle,
very nice.

I thought you meant
I could see Venice.

As I've never been.

I'm really sorry.

That's today's world.

- Your Volluto, Vincent.
- Thanks, Henriette.

- With sweetener?
- Yes.

My boss, Vincent,
used to be my teacher.

He'd never say,
"That's today's world."

He always said emphatically,
"We make the world."

You kids are unlucky.

It was different in our day.

Jobs were easy to find.

We were into "us".

You can't understand.

We put the tractor on auto-pilot
and read poems.

We saw the world differently.

We opened up everything we could
to let the world in.

Everything wide open!

The window right in your mug!

I smash it right in!

What an amazing time!

You were born too late!

The prospects are poor,
but we'll pass the torch.

Kids today are a bit wet.
They're nice,

but not like we were.

Over to you.
We're old now

but we're not leaving
our cushy jobs!

We'll keep building identical malls
and shitty centres

to pay for the summer home.

The main thing is to keep standing,
fist raised!

Like back then!

Your refusal to age is obscene.

Meaning?

You remind me

of Michael Jackson, both of you.

Angèle, calm down.

You devoured us. Were we tasty?

Try working out why our generation's
key figure is the paedophile!

- The paedophile!
- There's a link!

You're ogres!

Why not Sylvain's?

- It's over.
- Really?

He suggested living together,
but I've no time.

No time?

You realize society is made
of human relations?

You can stay with me.

Not with all your gear.

I can curtain off an area.

- You're sweet.
- A few days?

No, it's okay.
Simon and I are on the same wavelength.

There's no endless analysing.

Stop us here.

Simon and I understand each other.

He has always lived out his convictions,

with strong political ideas
he has never betrayed.

At 16, he joined the Communist Party.

In May '68, he joined the Maoists
to campaign with the workers.

He has stood his ground since,

rejecting both comfort

and despair.

- Hi, kiddo.
- Hi, Dad.

Seen how they cheat you
out of rillettes?

Rillettes too...

The assholes.

Stop eating bread, I'm making socca.

It's the same price too.

A poor man's dish,
nothing but chickpeas.

20 euros in Nice.

And here?

Bargain price, two euros.
One for the group, one for me.

It's a good margin,
given the costs.

Great.
Turn self-employed.

Women United must love
having a guy on the stand.

- Any young ones?
- Old young ones.

Hi, Dad.

Hi, sweetheart.

- Okay?
- Fine.

I got a shower curtain
with a right-angled rod.

Dinner?

- Want a shower curtain?
- No, they stick.

Angèle, he needs one.

Want some socca?

Angèle, bring the sucker cups.

We'll put this here.

Jesus...

This way, you can put your things here.

Look. I got you this.

It's only temporary.

Maybe, but I don't have a salary.

- Coming to the spa Saturday?
- No.

It could help.

I'm not depressed.

I'm not so sure.

Noutka, being fired by left-wing bosses
makes me mad.

It's more than a bad hair day.

I'll make alphabet pasta.

I've found a Mongol yurt
for the winter group.

A bonding project:
three days of snowshoes and raw meat.

Great.

Stéphane said
they're hiring at the call centre.

- Saying that for me?
- Yes.

I work already. On my own.
I do tenders.

Maybe, but be pragmatic.

- A machine won't give me orders.
- I understand.

C'mon, work isn't just fun.
Face it.

- Why?
- Get real.

- Why?
- You know why.

No, I don't.

- It's normal to work.
- Normal? Why?

Where has Dad's rejection
of the system got him?

It needs a lot of salt.

Why is it normal?

Why? Why? Grow up a bit, Angèle!

You're like some kindergarten kid
in a crappy nappy.

- Why?
- Why what?

Why do we make certain life choices?

Can't we ask why?

No, not anymore.

Why?

- Come on.
- That bit's mine!

Share and share alike.

Dad, look what you're doing!

What do you want?
We've done the rent, power...

You pay this by monthly debit.

Okay...

There's still this.
What's left?

The pastries
for the Yiddish choir are ready.

- That'll bring in 120.
- Do estimates.

Okay.

And, at the association fair,
I made 80.

That makes 200.

Will 300 euros do?

Yes.

It's hard for her, being back.

It won't help her socialize.

I think it's good.

Bye.

It's Mom's birthday soon.

She'd like to see you.

And?

Didn't she write to you?

Okay, I'm off.

May I have this dance?

Your sister seemed tense.

She's fine, don't worry.

When we ate as a family,
a rare occurrence,

Diane, my mother, would laugh and say

we were playing at being a family.

She preferred fundamental things

and those were
the revolution and Marxism.

Like my father,

Diane truly hoped
the world would change.

Even after '68,
after '81 and its disappointments,

even after McDonald's arrived
in East Berlin.

But, in 1997, she just gave up.

When the Socialist government
launched unprecedented privatizations,

she gave it all up.

She couldn't keep on fighting

and so she left.

I was 15
when she moved to the country

where she does nothing.

At least I presume so.

After Mom left,
my sister stopped campaigning too.

Not me.

Not Léonor.

We're still going strong.

After a student union,
we joined the Party

and, as the Party was on its last legs,

we tried other stuff.

If you weren't struck off

in the two years prior to inscription
with our services

by any organization,

go to the job centre site

or log onto www.finapi

slash-slash-slash-slash

dot-finapi-dot-org-dot-fr,

download the file,

upload it to send,

we'll send it on and send it back.

A copy-shop card helps.

We'll write a lot.

It's handy now everything's outsourced,
but your file may get mislaid.

We'll work together,
all of you on the dole.

I even see seniors there.

Senior job-seekers who left
and have come back.

All swings and roundabouts
as they say.

I'm Jean-Bernie, your advisor.
I like to put...

I'm blind. What's up?
My God...

I thought I was a handicapped worker!

I'm kidding, but we're here
to be accepted and to work.

As a group, we can offer you

various training programmes.

Let's review the situation, shall we?

It depends how near you are
to employment.

Maybe you can speak several languages

or not even French,
distancing you

from work
because of the digital divide.

Come to your local agency
to talk to us.

Hello, everyone.

Since I have the feeling,
like many of us,

that life is tough for everyone,

I want to read this.

No, this is a bank.

Right...

"I play not a march
for victors only

I play great marches
for conquered and slain persons

They say it's good to gain the day

I also say it is good to fail

Battles are won and lost
in the same spirit

So, glory to the defeated
and the drowned"

- I'm defeated?
- Yes.

Me? Defeated?

What drowned me?

Defeated and drowned like us all.

We're all defeated.

No, I come here to work
every morning, okay!

So spare me your goddam speech!

It's not a speech.

This poem should restore self-esteem.

Being defeated is fine.

You don't know me.

I'm a killer, okay. A leader.

Not in a plastic suit,
with a crooked tie

and a rickety desk!

You act like it's the 80s,
but we're all overdrawn!

Shit, we're all overdrawn.

How d'you know I'm overdrawn?

That day,
Léonor started the collective.

- So...
- Can we talk about...

- Sorry.
- Go ahead.

Please, go ahead.

Before we begin,
I'd like to briefly sum up

what we spoke about last time
with Samira.

What was that?

Do we try to form sub-groups
for different actions?

Sub-groups? With this few?

- So, I'll launch the discussion.
- Go ahead.

I want to talk about something

that drives me mad with rage.

I've always liked punk rock.

I've listened to the Sex Pistols
for decades.

Johnny Rotten, their singer,

does an advert for margarine.

"English Butter".

He runs after cows in a kilt,
holding a slice of bread...

There.

Try to understand the guy.

It's hard making a living in showbiz.

So 10 million for three minutes...

Who is the guy anyway?

You don't know him?

I saw that ad.

He's a punk singer
who represents values...

We said we'd speak in turn.

We listen to each other.

- Slim?
- I saw it.

It's well made.

But he doesn't look great in it.

The kilt's a bad idea.
They picked the wrong stylist.

But Johnny Rotten's a punk!

I mean, he's been
an anti-system star

for 40 years.

He fights for things.

He represents antiliberal values.

Now he does ads!

What's punk?

It's doing what you want, right?

If you want to make money
running naked in a kilt, fine.

Not for margarine!

You just don't make ads!

I can't believe I'm hearing this.

He has the right to change.

He used to be a punk,
but isn't anymore, okay.

We have no right to judge people.

It's uninteresting
and counterproductive judging people.

What's interesting
is why Johnny Rotten is like that now.

Maybe we can define
what "judging someone" means.

Yes, exactly.

It's not a case of judging someone.

Why don't we ask ourselves

what we mean exactly by "someone"?

Is it "one" taken out of "some"?

- Here he is.
- Hi.

How's it going?

Okay, this is Saïd.

An old friend of mine
and the school's director.

Thanks for letting us
use the place.

No worries.

If you all agree,

he'll join the group.

- Delighted.
- Welcome.

Thank you.

Like I said,
we meet once or twice a week.

We take the time to pause,

think about the world,
look around us...

Exactly.

We're all here
to try to understand each other,

as we're all different.

We've put aside all partisanship.

All comrades are welcome.

Basically, our only rule is
there's no leader.

There's no one in charge.

We share responsibility.

We organize this "us".

Yes, we usually begin
by going around the table,

listening respectfully
to what each person has to say

without ever interrupting.

I'll introduce myself.

I'm Samira.

Pleased to meet you.

I'm a pharmacist's assistant.

Okay. I'm Slim,
caseworker in Belleville.

Excuse me, Slim.
Sorry to interrupt.

We're more than just our jobs, right?

True, I don't even have one.

Let Saïd begin
as he's the new one here.

We'll start again
and let Saïd introduce himself.

Is there anything in the news

that drives you wild

or that inspires you?

For my first time,
I've prepared something

that sums up how I feel
about politics.

All right...

Shall I?

- Sure, if you have it.
- Great!

Here goes.

"Holy!

Holy!

Holy!

The world is holy!

The soul is holy!
The skin is holy!

The tongue and cock
and hand and asshole

holy!

The madman is holy the poem is holy
the voice is holy!

The hearers are holy!

The ecstasy is holy!

Holy my mother
in the insane asylum!

Holy the cocks
of the grandfathers of Paris!"

He wrote San Francisco,
but Paris makes it closer to home.

"Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers
and pavements!

Holy the cafeterias
filled with the millions!

Holy the eyeball!

Holy the abyss!

Holy our bodies!

Holy the supernatural

extra brilliant intelligent

kindness of the soul!"

Hi, how's it going?

What's this?

Here, Miss Spencer.

I'm sorry.

Poor Bobby was crushed.

That's horrible!

"Leave a print"

What a crap slogan.

"Generator of lasting emotions:

keep an eternal cast
of your baby's foot."

Are you a scientologist?

The girl with the kiln
found me the deal.

It's horrible!
The thing with feathers is hideous.

I'm broke. People love it.

Okay, but this is gross.

Léonor, work for yourself.

- Look...
- Put it down.

Your stuff is so good.

Put it down.

Okay, here's to us.

Whatever we're celebrating.

Got any leads?

No, nothing.

Not one agency is hiring.

I checked the tenders
for the Greater Paris project.

There's a lot
for Paris-suburban connections.

I downloaded the file
for the Porte de Montreuil site,

but I stand no chance alone.

But that's great.

How'll you link Paris and Montreuil?
Make me dream.

A street.

A street?

Look...

Rue de Paris in Montreuil

and Rue de Montreuil in Paris.

The same street, but separated

by 200 metres of the beltway.

A multipurpose slab

or even a huge
sustainable vegetable garden

look good on paper,
but they keep people separated.

With a street,

you maintain the perspective
and provide housing, crèches,

benches, cafés,

a beautiful fountain
by Léonor Chergui...

You create a genuine urban link.

Wasn't that your mom's thing?

What?

Erasing the city border.
Wasn't that her idea?

Your boss knew she's your mom?

No, I don't tell people.

We don't have the same surname.

Shall we leave?

To go where?

I don't know.

On a boat.

What?

Won't you live on the sea with me?

I can't live
far from the reality I work on.

So live in theory with me.

What?

Let's live in theory
as everything's fine in theory.

Paris After Paris

For Simon.
May our words become acts.

I love you. D.S.

Family crèche

Sorry, my card's been seized.

I just wanted to say
an ATM to replace

the old café is a great idea

as one ATM just opposite
wasn't enough.

Hi.

Live nearby?

Not far. Okay?

She drew a willy on the bank.

Indeed.

So, what matters is the drawing and...

- The symbol!
- Exactly.

In relation to the site.

It's a bank.

- So we pee on the bank?
- Yeah!

Or it pees on us...

We'll ask the artist, as she's here.

Angèle?

Yes, indeed...

It's more a middle finger
than a willy.

It's hard to draw fast properly.

Interpret it as you want.
A willy, a finger...

It's up to you.

It's the same idea, fingers or willies.

The collective fires me up.

We go out listening to the city's walls.

Let's show my friend
your wild pathway.

Green suits you.

Let's go.

Come and see.

I helped them, but only a little.

The sausage tree.

The sausages fear
the king and queen will eat them.

It's beautiful.

- Yeah.
- Really beautiful.

What's the sausage tree
a metaphor for?

Nothing.

It's not a metaphor?

They're sausages.

I like these undefined spaces.

They have an air of possibility.

Very different people can meet here...

and talk.

Okay... Bye.

- Thank you.
- Bye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Hi!

Angèle too. Great.

Hi.

Not too many presents.
He's spoiled.

It's nothing.

Where is he?

Hi there! How are you?

- My grandson?
- He's coming.

- Okay?
- Yes. And you?

Great.

Give me your jacket.

Thanks.

- Dad, is it Grandpa?
- Yes, he's here.

Titi!

He's so cute!

You've grown.
Happy birthday, Titi.

- Got my Skylanders?
- Of course.

Slippers for you.

Can I keep my shoes?

You were outside.
We try to preserve...

What?

- In Japan, people...
- Japan?

- There are rules...
- A drink?

Titi's friend Matteo's dad
is coming.

He's separated.

At the bus stop,
a swarm of cops climbed on board

carrying these huge fly swatters,

but instead of the flexible mesh,

each cop had put a Mickey Mouse hand
on the end of it.

They used them to touch people's butts.

They did it to humiliate them.

People didn't even react.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

Is everyone used to cops
touching butts with Mickey Mouse hands?

- What did you do?
- Nothing.

It must be a dream
on the anxiety of cowardice.

I often dream I'm a Nazi,
well not directly...

Emmanuel is a dentist.

Yeah.

I'm from a country family.

I loved having horses.

I always dreamt of working with horses
when I grew up.

But you can't make a living
from horses.

- Noutka, come here.
- Excuse me.

On the other hand,

when we did a trek
and a horse had a bad tooth...

we'd call the horse dentist
and he'd come by car.

He'd treat the animal and leave.
I thought,

"He must travel the world."

Because of that,

I think dentist really suits me.

You know...

Excuse me,
I'll wean Matteo off the console.

How's work? Not too tired?

A bit, but I can't complain.

I hear you travel a lot for work.
Must be tiring.

Right now, I'm here

and I'm working hard to get here.

Next week looks tough.

Yeah.

It's a 360° evaluation week

to lose some ballast.
It's iffy.

But it'll do the team good
to be shaken up a bit.

It's good to step back too
and figure out why you do things.

- Get time together?
- It's a problem.

We have a weekend at your mom's.

Why don't you come too, Angèle?

We'd all be together.

Going on about that again?

Life passes.

Life isn't just family.

Being family doesn't mean we talk.

Mom said that 20 years ago.

You see!

She means your mom misses you.

She doesn't miss me!

Mom thinks we don't need to talk.

That was before.

Béa, got glasses?

Béa?

Jean-No, a colleague.
Angèle, my sister.

Who's Béa?

Béa is easier at work.
Try giving Noutka as an email address.

They call you Béa?

- Even your name?
- What?

You reject your past?

Sorry, but Noutka, the tribal name,
is a real hippie thing.

Mountains and sea.

Mountains and sea, right.

That's what it means.

Angèle, chill.

You used to be classy.

You had everyone looking up to you then.

We were activists together.

You're so selfish!

I'm the selfish one?

Did I sell out to the system
to pay for my suburban life?

Noutka helps you a lot.

Will yoga classes change the world?

I don't want to change it.

- Aren't you ashamed?
- No.

I'm interested
in what exists for real,

people who work and fear death,
like you and Mom!

No, like you and Mom!

You're alone,
you ruined what we had.

So spare me
the fucking family reunions!

Chill. We never see you.

Let's have a nice family moment.

I know how to fit in here.
I'll be a turncoat too.

There!

What does marketing feed you
to make you feel so good?

I'm scared of tickles!

We noticed!

Dad...

Kiss the panda!

The panda's my pal.

Take that!

I suggest that today we try to affirm

what we believe in.

What can we affirm today?

About what can we say, "Okay,

whatever happens, I'm sure of this.

A backbone"?

In relation to religion?

I don't get it.

What are you sure of today?
Whatever may happen.

Angèle,

can you give us an example?

For example, I'm sure

that the planet's natural resources
like water or gas

should always be public property

and never private.

I'm convinced of that.

Let's try.

It's a nightmare.

I can't say stuff
with my hand on my heart.

I look too dumb and solemn.

I can't do it either.

No programme.

Stop.
This has happened more than once.

We have to greet suggestions
with enthusiasm.

We never agree, okay,

but if we greeted ideas

saying "Why not?" or "Great",

it'd be less taxing mentally.

I agree entirely.

Obliged enthusiasm?
We're not scouts.

Obliged, no, but he's right.

- Politics needs heart.
- Exactly.

- It's support...
- Yes.

We can't force ourselves...

Let's vote then.

- Vote?
- Yes, vote!

Vote to oblige ourselves
to be enthusiastic?

Who votes
for obligatory enthusiasm?

I'm for it because Steeve is right.

It's taxing mentally.

We shoot ourselves in the foot.

Adopted by a majority.

Fine.
Obligatory enthusiasm.

That's good.

Can we return
to Angèle's suggestion?

Can anyone

suggest something they're sure of?

- Slim?
- No way.

I respect your idea.

Despite the joy
with which it fills my heart,

I'm like Samira,
I just can't state obvious things.

If public-owned gas was obvious,

it would be.

Okay, but why say it?

I mean, it's really naive.

Like all fascists are bastards.

That's what I'm saying.
It isn't naive.

We're so used to looking ridiculous,
afraid of being naive,

or of being made fun of,

we never dare to speak out now.

It's not naive.

This silence is unbearable.

We have to be able to reformulate

or it's going to kill us.

Please. Who else can I ask?

There has to be one thing.

We each have one thing we're sure of.

One thing.

Whenever I'm sure of something,

I think the opposite.

- Then the opposite.
- Precisely!

I'm sure that...

No good.

No, go on, say it.

I'm sure
that if nomadism was obligatory,

well,

the world would be better.

Nomadism?

Obligatory?

Yes, obligatory.
Sorry if the word stings.

But it won't work otherwise.

You have something there.

So, you're a nomad?

I've never left my neighbourhood.

- Forget it.
- It's contradictions.

That's it.

I'm thinking

free education, why not?

But if that costs money...

No, Steeve,
free education is a choice.

Exactly. Free education.

A banner we can gather behind.

Maybe not a banner.

We're not here to form a party.

Nor just to drink tea.

A party or gathering around shared ideas

is the only way we have
to found a theory

to launch action
and a power struggle.

I think we need to discuss it all again.

The human, enriching side...

Human, enriching...

Can we stop reading Biba?

What is this, the Politburo?

Let's have some democracy.

Screw democracy.
Democracy is TV.

She's not wrong.

- Sorry.
- Too aggressive.

Let's start again.

What are we sure of?

I'll be going.

Funny, I thought
you weren't scared to commit.

I'm not scared to commit.

Go on then.

Commit.

It's from a movie.

The painter erases the mouth
from his painting

but the living mouth ends up
in his hand.

As it doesn't speak,

he makes the most of it.

Are you hungry?

My parents.

They're from the same mountain village.

They met skating.

- They did?
- They were good at it.

The pride of the village.

Three years in the national finals.

Mom was the full flip queen.

Where did yours meet?

They met at the factory.

Lyon Cabling in Bezons.

They were workers?

Maoists.

They moved there

to share workers' lives
and prepare the revolution.

They were slubbers,

making plastic casings
for electric cables.

One winter night after work,

my dad followed my mom,
attracted to her.

He saw her bend down
to a mound of snow,

scratch something and walk off.

When he reached the snow,

he saw his name, Simon,
written in it.

- Beautiful, huh?
- Yeah.

At first, she wouldn't commit and left.
Love for an activist...

Yeah, it sucks.

Does eating suck too
for an activist?

Seriously,

even when they were together,
only changing the world mattered.

What about the rest?

They didn't have time for it.

Like in physics.

In physics?

When you measure a fall's speed,

you ignore the friction of the air

that slows the thing down.

You don't remember?
At school, we ignore friction.

But friction is there in real life.

What does your mom think now?

- She still ignores friction?
- Frankly, I don't care.

She gave up her political struggle.

She dropped it all overnight.

Maybe she woke up.

What?

If you think socialism
is the sole solution for a life,

you're asleep.

Maybe she opened her eyes,

saw the absurdity
of the world and life,

with absurd people who have no goal.

Absurdity hit her right in the face!

You can still fight.

There's no meaning.

Not one meaning, but many.

That's the great thing.

Look.

I'll be going.

Ever been to a summer camp?

Yes.

Who was your best friend?

I had two: Léonor Chergui
and Clémence Platkiewicz.

A trio...

Your first odd job?
Salesgirl? Waitress?

A foam rubber Laughing Cow
on the Tour de France.

We had to do a little dance like this.

Ace.
Look at each other again.

Good.

That's it. Look.

That's good.

That works too.

Hands in your hair.

Now pose.

Again.

Look back at me now.
Stay with me.

Great.

Get back into the groove...

Here she is.

You have a visit.

The works.

Who gave you my address?

Léonor.

Want a drink, dude?

I'd love one, sir.

Sir? You saw the Jag outside?

It's not mine.

Stay for chicken stew.

Angèle loves it.

I said,
"Sir, may I have your daughter's hand?"

He punched me in the face
and said,

"Have mine for now!"

Everyone burst out laughing
on the square where we were performing.

The fun we had back then.

We were less serious.

Imagination in power had meaning.

Then I went to Guatemala
to learn weaving in a village.

That's when Diane, their mother,
said she loved me.

The only clue she had

was a postcard I sent
from Puerto Barrios,

a port in eastern Guatemala.

She sold her motorbike, got a flight
and landed in the jungle to find me.

One day,

the morning mist lifted on a beach

and she saw me swimming
in the ocean.

She undressed, dived in

swam out to me underwater

and surfaced right in front of me.

I didn't understand a thing.

- She was really in love.
- Back then, yes.

- No one would do that now.
- They would.

No.

Have you been separated long?

- 15 years.
- Right...

Diane has a temperament.

We argued one morning

over some dumb phone bill problem.

I was worn out from work

and to provoke her, I said,

"I wish I had shares
in France Télécom."

She packed and left.

Things had been tense for a while.

She never came back?

- She did.
- What?

She came back one day

from the place where she was living

and asked me to move there with her.

What? What is this?

She wanted us to go there?

It didn't happen.

I thought she didn't want us.

Dad, I'm talking to you.

She said we'd screwed up

and needed to live differently.

- She was right.
- I see.

Every protest movement collapses.

All of them in recent years.

They die.
There's no political thought now.

- I don't agree.
- Fine.

But the stock market doesn't care.

People are getting back into politics.
They're trying.

Martial law...

The ozone layer's returning...

Centralized power kills democracy.

Artificial pancreases...

Fascism's returning.

I don't agree.

In my class, most boys
find men kissing normal.

- Pesticides...
- I don't agree.

Tell the tax exiles you don't agree.

Two horned parakeets
were just born.

- Two?
- An endangered species.

What a joke!
We weren't saving parakeets,

but workers' bodies
and people's souls!

That worked.

You can't understand,
there's no spark.

There is.

There's a spark?
So go ahead, show me the spark!

- Show me!
- Don't talk to her like that!

Let him talk!

Okay...

I see it's a bit...

I'll leave you.

Have a good evening.

Saïd.

Sorry, he gets dumb when he drinks.

Screw him, Angèle.

Screw your parents.

It's about you.

Come on, let's split.

I want to see stuff anew with you.
The sea, snow...

All over again.

Take the train, eat melons.

Melons are good.

Since meeting you,

it hurts when I can't share things.

Come with me.

Come on.

Forgive me.

Sorry.

What was that about Mom?

She wanted us to move there?

You, yes.

She wanted Noutka and you to go.

Why did you say
the bitch abandoned us?

Don't talk about Diane like that.

Family didn't interest her.

It was too bourgeois,
with the shopping, laundry,

dirty socks

saying
her revolution hadn't happened.

She was younger then.

Things were more traditional.
We wanted to be different.

What about us?

Was it that despicable having us?

Not at all.

She softened her hard side.

So why did you always say it?

That a child couldn't compete
with her life?

Why did you say she abandoned me?

Tell me.

I don't know.

She abandoned me.

Sweetheart...

I read that in pagan traditions,

hospitality was a golden rule.

The person who comes to me
and whom I don't know

is potentially a god in disguise.

When did I last view a newcomer

as a disguised god coming to meet me?

What are you doing here?

We decided this morning.

- Okay?
- Fine.

Get in the front.

We slept in the so-called Tower Room.

They told us burglars had visited

the next room.

We sat up all night in bed
with flashlights.

With a chair blocking the door!

You scared us.

You told horrible stories.

You said cartoon characters were real

and lived in the walls,
watching us.

Turn right here.

- I can't, it's market day.
- We're going there.

I promise you,
I gave you 20 euros.

It provides more support.

Look how pretty it is.

Look at the strap here...

Is that comfier?

Yes.

Even the shoulders.

I really like it.

I'm pleased.

It really suits you.
I'll let you dress.

Thank you, Diane.

Could I take both?

Yes, of course.

Call it 10 a week.

Thank you. Goodbye.

I'm...

so happy to see you.

Mom!

Nounou!

Léonor too! This is great.

Hi, Diane.

Need me to shop?

No, I have enough in.

- A vegetable garden?
- Yes.

Great. Last thing I planted,
only the stakes grew.

Watch the step.

- It goes in the kitchen?
- Yes.

We'll soon tidy up.

I'm famished.

I didn't get dessert.

Did you?

I think we have some orange cakes left.

Salad?

Good idea.

- A tomato salad?
- And snacks.

Shall I put this away?

In the fridge?

Want some juice?

Please.

- I have wine too.
- I prefer that.

Got a glass?

I'll find you one.

Tomatoes too?

Take a rest, Nounou.

I'll do this first.

Let's drink on the terrace.

It's beautiful.

We'll make a cake for later.

Shall I get Stéphane to buy one?

I'll do a tart.

Beautiful.

See the tender leaves
at the top of the old tree?

It's like an old man of 80
having children.

What do you do now?

She sculpts.

Are you hungry?

Not eating, little mouse?

Shit, it's already 4PM.

- So?
- I have to get back for Stéphane.

Léonor's there for him.

But this way I can start dinner.

Noutka!

Shit, Noutka!

So, you're doing your first competition?

Who told you?

Noutka.

You work hard.

- She told you that?
- Yes.

It's a competition
to cover the Paris beltway.

I'm doing a street.

A street?

You'll manage it, Angèle.

Come on.

Come, my girl.

- Okay?
- Great, and you?

Hi there. How are you?

Hi, sweetie!

Hi. How's it going?

- Hello, Stéphane.
- Hello, Diane.

- Good drive?
- Yes, great.

- What're you doing?
- Putting it the right way. Move.

There, we're at world's end.

What's that?

I walked into a window at work.

It was too clean.

Let's see...

Here.

It's cool you're here.

Happy birthday, Diane.

Thank you, my dears.

You shouldn't have.

I chose them.

You did?

They're so beautiful!

Look.

I'll put them on.

Nounou, can you help?

Hold on.

Let me see.

- Good choice.
- He has taste.

What are you doing now, Stéphane?

Like them?

Very much.

Is Grandma beautiful?

Thank you, Nounou.

Thank you,
it's good to have you here.

...a sort of map

to sell more,
applying top vendors' methods.

And Titi's present?

- Huh?
- Titi's present.

We said you'd bring it.

Fetch it. It's upstairs.

So why do you do that?

Why?

To find ways to sell more and faster.

Every company is a fragile ecosystem,
especially now.

Take the Roquefort metaphor.

- Know how Roquefort's made?
- No.

When you make Roquefort,

you take your cheese,

you put your mould in the cheese.

If the mould doesn't take,
your cheese dies.

If it takes too well,

your cheese rots.

The Roquefort maturer's art

lies in developing the mould
to create the Roquefort taste.

The Roquefort approach for us

means spotting top performers' skills,

namely the cheese mould,

the mould that helps the company

to sell 40 Internet connections a month
instead of 25.

Or 40 Mirage fighter planes,
or 40 anything.

But...

If one can, everyone must!

So the top vendors sell 60
as they're so good

and so the others have to.

- Exactly.
- Where does it stop?

To infinity and beyond!

Grandma...

Thank you.

Awesome!

Just what I wanted.

- Can you still sit on my lap?
- Yes.

Let me make the most of it.

And you, Léonor?

What is it you do?

- I'm a sculptor.
- You are?

But...

can you make your living?

Yes, it's a trade.

So, what do you do?

Is your stuff more abstract

or realist?

Very realist right now.

That's good.
You have to be a realist.

I do casts of babies' feet.

Babies' feet
to immortalize the moment.

The parents have a sculpture...

You said "immortalize the moment"?

Yes.

That has great potential.

Great concept!

It's going pretty well.

Know what you could do?

She could develop her casts

with a line
of powerful emotional moments.

The hands of newlyweds
leaving the church,

a sports team holding a trophy,

pregnant women.

Increase your customer variable
and the financial one too.

More tart?

I think Léonor's casts
are simply a potboiler.

It could be a lot more.

You have a team, right?

We share a workshop.

You need to optimize
to develop your project.

1) Does everyone work well?

That's important.

2) Can any elements be improved?

How do you handle conflicts?

Conflicts can help move ahead.

I often tell my management teams

to do a 360 review
of each person's progress margin.

360 what?

In your workshop,

ask them what they think
of the others' work.

360 degrees.
I do it in every company.

It's human nature.

Man progresses under constraint.

You'll see who can follow or not.

This is dumb, but it's true.

The main problem
is people doing a bad job.

The fundamental thing
is managing to spot them.

You dump the weak link.

Without any scruples.

Scruples only block you.

Titi, get to bed now.

I'll come up for a kiss.

- Good night, Grandma.
- Good night, Titi.

Bye, Timéo.

Bye, my love.

You think my scruples
are blocking me in life?

You feel lighter without scruples.

Fire me.

What?

Pretend to fire me.

Can't we change the subject?

Scruples eat you up from inside.

Go on, fire me.

Ms. Marquet...

Ms. Marquet,
I've set you straight once,

then twice.
This is a half-assed piece of work.

I'll be clear, Ms. Marquet.

Our company has goals

because it has to be answerable

and these days,

no competitor will waste time
on a weak link.

Take a look in a mirror, Ms. Marquet.

You're a weak link!

Worse, a dead weight!

Sluggishness, lank hair,

empty eyes,
a total lack of flexibility!

Are you nuts?

No reflexes!

To satisfy our high demands,

our goal being to make
as much as possible in record time,

we dump all losers!

Good workers bring cash in,
poor ones are bad!

Leave your badge

and parking pass.
Take your things!

Go on, get out!
The door's that way!

There!

No scruples!

Get it?

Do you?

I get it! No scruples,
unless you kill someone!

What did you say?

What's up?

- You told her?
- No.

- Told me what?
- Nothing!

Whatever you're implying,

but I've done nothing wrong, okay.

I'm on the level, okay.
Who says I'm not?

- Who?
- No one, Stéphane.

I'm not a Nazi opening and closing
a door without seeing what's behind it.

I don't kill people.

I create cash, that's all.

I create cash!

I create cash!

I create cash any way I can.

51,360 dollars an hour.

1,400,000 dollars a day.

That's the world!

No, we make the world!

Stop!

Let her change it!

Go on, change the world

if you're not pleased!
It's easy.

It's easy mouthing off
when you're not in the real world!

You're putty!

- Calm down now!
- Wallace and Gromit!

- Calm down.
- Wallace and Gromit!

Cute, huh?

Wallace and Gromit.

Nothing to negotiate,
never hurting anyone...

Not behind my back.

I haven't broken anyone, okay.

No deaths on my hands.

So set the record straight.

I have no problems.

I can look at myself...

in a mirror.

- Why were you like that?
- Me? Are you crazy?

Why did you piss him off?

With what?

We're corporate drones for you?

Family doesn't matter?

Calm down!

Why can't we live anymore?

Why do we keep clashing?

What the fuck went wrong?

We're good people, hard workers,
good parents. What's the problem?

I don't know, Nounou.

I don't know.

I'll try to call Stéphane.

It'll be okay.

I'm here, okay. I'm here.

I'm here...

We'll talk about it later, okay?

Our new member, Stéphane.

If you want to start today, go ahead.

Thank you.

Hello.

Thank you for having me.

My name's Stéphane.

I don't know...
What can I say?

Whatever you want.

Push with the heel, and back.

Bend, push with the heel,
and back.

We are intoxicated

On love and youth

A glow in our eyes

Angry fists raised

We are devils

We are gods