All language subtitles for Belle Toujours 2006

Excuse me...

-Good evening.
-Good evening.

A whisky, please.

A large one.

-With ice?
-No ice, thanks.

Another one, please.

I just saw a distinguished-looking
woman leaving here,

slim, pretty, an older woman.
Do you happen to know her?

I was late to meet her
and I've lost track of her.

-Can you hear what he's saying??
-No.

And I'm not interested.

Maybe he's asking about that one

who was just in here...

Probably.

What do you care?

Curiosity, my dear, curiosity...

She's probably come back
to live in Paris.

Sorry.
I have to go and serve the girls.

Give me another one, please.

Here you are...

That lady isn't a regular.

I don't know her, never seen her before.

She came to leave a message for a friend
of hers, who rarely comes in here...

And what's this friend's name?

I know her face, but I don't know
her name. But hold on...

Mathilde.
Her name's Mathilde.

Mathilde.
Do you know her address?

Who's? Mathilde's?

No, the one I'm looking for.

Hotel Regina.
I believe she lives there.

Hotel Regina... Hotel Regina?

Excuse me.

You see?
You're a lucky man after all!

Thanks very much.
Always at your service, sir.

It was lucky I came in here.

It doesn't always happen that way...
Thank you, sir.

-Good morning.
-Good morning, Mr...

-Husson.
-Mr Husson.

I'm looking for Madame
S�verine Serizy. Is she in?

Madame is still in her room.

Can I have her room number?

It's 224 on the second floor.

The lifts are just there on the left.

Nothing for me?

Nothing, Madame,
but a man was here... a Mr Husson.

-Husson?
-Yes he's gone up.

Please don't tell him you saw me,
or where to find me.

Madame wasn't in her room.

Look she's just leaving.

Good evening, sir.
A large whisky, no ice?...

Good evening...

-What's your name?
-Benedito.

-Benedito?
-Yes, Benedito, at your service.

Curious name.

But you've got a good memory,
Benedito?

Or do you know me from somewhere?

I don't know you from anywhere.

I've only been here once,
yesterday,

and you know what I drink

and you can tell me apart
from all the regulars?

It's because
you're out of the ordinary,

and like you said:
because you're not a regular.

-Fine! I'll have my usual!
-Coming right up.

Are you sure you don't know me?

I don't know you from anywhere, sir.

It's only because
you came in yesterday.

I'm glad I did.

You know why was I here last night?

If not for the whisky and the lady's
address, then I don't know.

Then I'll tell you a story
of what didn't happen.

-Of what didn't happen?...
-Exactly.

About fifty years ago.
It happened here in Paris

between a couple
and the husband's best friend.

This lady was young
and extremely attractive.

-But she had a perversion.
-A perversion?...

Yes, she was a pervert, a masochist

and she had some
very strange adventures.

And that made me very curious.

Excuse me.

A beer and an orange juice.

A beer

and an orange juice.

She loved her husband,

and surprisingly,

it was this love that drove her
to betray him in secret.

Really, that's very strange.

And her most secret desire

was to betray her husband
with his best friend.

Such was her sadism.

-Can you hear what they're saying?
-Not really.

The guy's ignoring us.

Who cares?

-A guy like that.
-Well, I think he's good-looking.

Can't you see he's
completely ignoring us?

Well, that's true.

She disguised her masochism.

But it was the mask she needed
for her sadism.

But it happened like you just said?

And you knew about it?

Yes, I did.

She was aware I knew a fair bit
about what she was up to.

Anyway, things like that happen,
although in different ways,

with some people nowadays...

-How do you know?
-From what I hear, of course.

Because a lot of customers
feel the need to confess.

And they only do it with a stranger.

With somebody who seems
disinterested in what he's hearing.

That way, they confess freely.

And they seem relieved.

It's a need,
to get it off their chests, to tell...

-Tell what?
-Things like that...

Betrayals and lies.

Disillusionment!...

Is Madame S�verine Serizy in ?

Madame has gone.

Gone?

Yes, she's gone on a long trip.

And where did she go?

That I don't know
Madame didn't say.

I've been wondering about
what you said yesteday.

It goes beyond anything I've heard.

Sorry if I'm being forward...

Not at all.
I'm even glad to hear it.

Were you the best friend
of that woman's husband?

And you had sex with her?

It doesn't matter who it was.

What matters is that it happened.

If the best friend
did have sex with her,

it would have been the finest betrayal

she could ever have wished on him...
because she loved her husband.

But I don't think it came to that.

But if she didn't do it physically,
she imagined it,

with all three present.

In the finest way.

You say "the finest"!?

The finest, to her taste,

the pleasure of doing it with the best
friend of the husband she truly loved.

And in his presence.

She'd do that because
she loved her husband!?

That's exactly what happened,
because doing it in total secrecy

doubled her perverted
masochistic pleasure.

Later, she'd enjoy remembering
these betrayals,

while she tenderly caressed
her beloved husband.

Do you mean...

that her husband's best friend
was just an instrument to her?

Precisely.

Perfect, Mr Barman!

If 'perfect' means what I think,

I'd hardly say it was that.

-Are you surprised?
-Very.

It makes me think
there are men who like that!

Like what?

Subjecting themselves
to these perversities,

or even to act that way
themselves, why not admit it?

I agree,

but that's not the case with me.

So where are you in all this?

My role...

is to observe,

even to challenge.

But isn't that a kind of sadism too?

No. It's self-defence.

How is it self-defence?

So you were involved after all?

No, no.
It was a figure of speech.

She knew that this best friend
knew all about her,

and she knew
he could defend himself.

She was in a sticky situation with him.

He represented
the conscience she didn't have.

He was even the one who gave her
directions to that brothel,

so sure was he that she'd enjoy
to give herself to strangers.

Some customers tell me

that in their youth
there were a lot of those houses.

They say things
have changed a lot since then.

They even complain about
the mentality of people these days.

That the values of their day
have been overthrown.

Now, out of curiosity:

did you go to those houses?

Me? No.

But those houses were well-known.

And the friend figured
she'd follow his directions.

-And did she?
-Oh yes!

and one day he went along.

-The husband's best friend?
-Yes.

And she was there?

When she saw him, she was worried.

And did he have sex with her?

He didn't want sex.

She was afraid he'd spill the beans
to her husband.

Her sado-masochism
would lose all its allure

if her husband found out.

-You understand?
-No.

Hiding her perversion from her husband
gave her masochism its spice.

Like hiding one's appetite
for the forbidden fruit from God.

It worked like a vice;

the bigger the secret,
the better the taste.

Benedito, won't you
introduce us to this gentleman?

This gentleman is here
on important business.

He's here to get some
important information.

Go back to your table
and order what you'd like.

Thanks.

And if you have time
come over and join us...

Sweety.

-Put it on my bill.
-Certainly, sir.

So, girls, what would you like?

A good-looking boy, like you...

A whisky and an orange juice.

The usual.

If you know already...
why are you asking, darling?

You'll see...

Fine, fine...

Here, your consolation.

Isn't that what you wanted?

What I want is a fit boy, like you...

We appreciate quality, not quantity.

Here you are, then... I'll serve you
with quantity and quality.

You see, girl, we may just drink
till the end of our thirst.

You know you're a sweet boy?

Leave the boy alone - he's a pain!

My pleasure

is to serve... girls.

You see, he likes us...

If you knew what I've been hearing...

If you knew what he's been
telling me... him and the others too.

God!...

You know what I'll tell you?

You two?... You're angels!

I've got to go...

Are they prostitutes?

Yes.

But compared to the stories I hear,

I'd sooner say they're...

angels...

They don't have husbands to cheat on,
or hide secrets from!

That one who wanted to cheat on her
husband with her best friend,

she had endless secrets.

These poor souls are what they are,
they do business with their bodies,

they don't delude anybody.

You're a lot sharper
than you let on.

It's not wisdom...

it's because I listen.

To confessions, eh?

You can't imagine what I hear.

I makes me think there are men
who really like perverse women...

who mix the pleasure of cheating
on the husband, or lover, or lovers,

with the thrill of the secret.

-Secrets that are theirs alone.
-True

But they get furious
when they're found out.

They like to play innocent.

What did he mean, "you're angels"?

What did he mean?
That that's what we are:

little angels!

It's funny that you, so young,
are so wise already.

It's what I hear.

They feel a need to unburden themselves.

But never to someone they know,
and even less to a friend.

They confess to someone who listens
without hearing them,

to a stranger,
or someone neutral like me,

who doesn't know them
or won't see them again.

It's as if they're talking to a wall,
or into a well.

That way, they're sure
their confessions will die there.

So they open up to me,
because they take me for deaf.

So you see, I know without knowing.

It's my destiny.

Mine too.

Do I know who you are?

Or do you know who I am?

After all, I only came in here
for a large whisky.

With no ice.

Here you go.

He's ignoring us.

He's no spring chicken anyway...

Him?

His best days might be gone...

But he's sweet and good-looking.

I even fancy some guys like that.

There you go then! And I fancy
guys like that little barman.

I already know that, girl!

But don't kid yourself.

A young boy like that
can have any woman he wants.

-So he doesn't know what he's missing.
-I know.

They say you're
something special in bed.

The problem is getting them there.

Yeah.

But you've always helped me
to get them interested.

Well, I'm your friend, aren't I?

You're a good girl. So you are.

It's my duty.
Well, well!

-Shall I open the champagne?
-No, thank you.

-Open the champagne.
-Yes, sir.

As beautiful as ever!... my darling.

What do you mean, "my darling"?

I was never your darling.

"Darling", only for your timeless beauty!
To your beauty!

You're being too kind.

Even so, to our health.

We're not like we were years ago.
But we're both in good health.

-So it seems...
-To our health.

I shouldn't have come.

But you did, and rather late.

Yes, that's true.

But I'm here now.

Don't be so worried.

There's nothing odd about this meeting.
The past is long gone.

Long gone!

That wonderful time
when we were young.

living life our own way.

And problems are part of life.

You have regrets?

Your husband had
his share of happiness.

You gave him

plenty of that.

What's troubling you now?

Everything...

Quite everything.

Nothing.

An ill-spent past,
old age as a future...

and the impossibility of putting right

things we wish we'd done differently.

I'll stay with the champagne,
thank you.

A large whiskey, o ice.

Leave the bottle, please.

-Anything else, sir?
-No, thanks.

Leave us now, please.

Shall I change the candles?

No...
It's fine like this.

Would you mind
if we just have the candlelight?

I think we'd be cosier like that,
more relaxed.

More relaxed for what?

For whatever we want.

To recall our wickedness, for example.

-May I?
-As you wish.

It's all the same to me.

You were right,
when you said wickedness.

I see you keep it as a memorial
to all that wicked past.

And that "memorial"...
is all I have left these days.

Good,

so you'll also remember
what I'm dying to know about the past...

that weighs so heavily on me.

You feel persecuted by sins!?

Worse than that.

It's the terrible
state of doubt I'm in!...

Don't tell me
you've become a religious woman!

I don't know if it's religion.

I know, strange as it may seem to you,
I'm a different woman now.

A religious woman!

If you want to call it that...

I think I might even end up
in some convent.

As a nun?...

I don't know yet
if I'll become a nun...

-What?
-But why not?

I never thought
you had such a vocation.

Frankly, I'm amazed
to hear you say it!

There are some other things
a lot more scandalous.

What things, can you tell me?

Our past lives, for example.

To me, women were always
Nature's greatest enigma.

Well.

I want you to understand something:

I'm not the woman you knew years ago.

The one who needed
to be in love with one man

in order to have sex with another man.

And I really want you to understand
that I'm another person now

and not the woman you knew
all those years ago.

Maybe you're in denial
of your exotic past.

No.

I was fine,

because my strange desires
didn't make me feel guilty.

We're educated
in the Judaic-Christian system

But I didn't feel capable
of following that system.

Having children, for example.

My sexuality was a kind of catharsis,

a need to experiment with
all the perversions that gripped me...

like a vice
from which there's no escape.

The secret was your devotion
to your husband.

Something was lost.

You were widowed,
I don't think you got married again...

I understand you. I'm like you,
in a way. I became an alcoholic.

I've made alcohol my convent.

The saints were sinners too.

Even terrible sinners.

Our lives will go out one day too,
like the flames of these candles.

But before that happens...

Tell me, are you really
going to a convent?

Before that happens,

I want you to tell me, like we
agreed yesterday in the street,

what I'm dying to know.

And as for the convent,
I want to tell you this:

my youth has gone,

along with a lot of my
unbalanced sexuality.

I don't have any children,
I don't think I was born for that.

The husband I loved,
who was my only love,

and the only pretext
for my twisted masochism, is gone,

it's all gone,

just as these candles are going.

That fire no longer burns in me.

I'm a widow, and alone.

Alone

with my soul.

It asks me for shelter.
Tell me:

what better shelter could I give
my soul than a convent?

But for my soul to deserve
to be truly at rest,

I've got to know...

To know...

...if I told your husband

the secrets I knew about you.

You know that's exactly
what I want to know.

To know if you told him my secrets,
which only you knew.

I never saw you again,
after your last visit.

And when I looked at my husband,

I saw on his cheek

stuck there, half way...

a tear,
as it frozen,

with an iron resistance,
on his expressionless face.

If you don't tell me
what you said to him about me,

I'll never know
the reason for that tear.

Don't forget that you promissed me.

And now that
the candles have gone out,

it's the perfect time
to tell me everything,

to confess everything to me.

I need to know.

I need to know, Mr Husson.

My dear S�verine,
before I do what you ask,

I have a surprise for you.

A surprise?

What surprise?

Do you remember the little box

that a certain oriental man opened,

that made you very curious?

That doesn't interest me any more,
it just annoys me.

It was so long ago!

Whether it interests you or annoys you,
I found this artefact by chance...

Do you know where?

In the shop where we met.

This precious object, that the
young S�verine loved so much.

Well, I'll keep it for my own use.

Nobody's stopping you.

But once and for all, believe me:

That past doesn't matter
to me any more.

Or have you still not grasped that
you're talking to another person now?

So you don't care any more
about what I said to your husband?

Quite the opposite.
That's all I want to know.

Isn't that why we're here?

All right then, here it is.

But you have to think carefully
about what I'm going to say.

Either I told your husband everything,

or I told him nothing of what I knew.

Now, you tell me...

Which of these two confessions
is truthful, and which is a lie?

S�verine!

I've brought some more candles
to brighten up your dinner tonight.

Would you like anything else,
Mr Husson?

No thank you.

-Shall I put the lights on?
-If you like.

If there's nothing else,
may I leave?

Of course.

The lady's purse.

The lady forgot her purse.

-This is for you.
-Thank you.

We thank you, sir.

-What a strange guy.
-Yeah, strange guy.

Yes, sir.
He's an oddball.

He's a weirdo.