All language subtitles for femmes.femmes-[eng]

to claudine

to roland
and to "la belle equipe" (Duvivier)

"believe you me: in order to live
in fact, put on an act"... Albert Camus

woman + woman =

LADIES
LADIES

- Watch out!
- Drink in peace!

You offended me!
You offended me...

So scared!

- Ouch! You hurt me.
- And now?

Stop for God's sake! You're hurting me!

- You never know when to quit.
- Oh! You certainly do though!

- What?
- You know what I mean.

No I don't. With you, one never knows.

You're always up to something or other,
and I always get the short stick.

You mean to say that I say what
I mean and I mean what I say?

Well, let's see.

When I get back at 4:30 in the
evening with the groceries,

the kitchen is always an incredible mess.

- The tub is clogged.
- We don't have a tub.

- The wash basin is clogged.
- It's a sink.

Whatever it is, it's clogged!

You'd think your little odd jobs
took up all of your time.

Ah, yes. For about three days, I haven't
even stepped out of this apartment.

And you're never willing to go out!

Whenever I'm away from Paris,
you have everything delivered.

What am I to do? I am a housewife.

In that dress you've got,
you doll up real nice.

I loathe housecoats.

You're nitpicking me.

- I'd better make dinner.
- You always make too much.

It's not my fault you hardly eat at all.

Lucky for you, I hardly eat at all, huh?

- You get to gobble up all the rest!
- Yes!

What good is chopped veal? I go buy more
groceries so you can cook it home-style,

but when I get back,

nothing but swarming flies.

If you're alluding to
last night's fly swarm,

I'll have you know that I ate
all of it and it was disgusting.

- No! Can it be true?
- It's all true!

Everything important around here
is just fodder for your one-liners.

My odd jobs haven't served us too
poorly during our hard times.

Because if...

I'd have acted like you do,
I would have had to give up.

I wasn’t chasing after fame
contrary to type.

What do you mean by that?

I had to give up when
I got mixed up with you.

So that's what you think...

For all of these years,
you've been lying to me.

You've been humoring me.
Deceiving me from the start.

That's why you're never
willing come see me.

All of these years, you've
known nothing of my life.

No, no. You've known nothing.

You've just sat around,
never troubled by drive.

Everything happening outside
is of no interest to you at all.

As long as you evade
sleeping in back alleys,

you'll do your dirty jobs:

the dust mop, bartering with
the landlady, trips to the pawnshop...

Languishing is all that interests you.

To be free of burdens!

If I spend the night out, you sulk.

And if I bring someone here...

what a nightmare!

And meanwhile, all of the great
roles that I've turned down...

I can't bask in applause on stage,
no matter what you might say,

while you're crouching
in front of the television,

defeated by your rancor,
by your jealousy and your envy!

So there it is! That's the real reason
you never bother come to see me:

you're crippled just knowing
that I'm still on the stage!

Had to give up? You?

But you took a walk, darling!

You stormed off stage because
you were too drunk to act!

Off movie screens, because
you could only play bit parts!

Off TV, because the schedules were
too hectic for you to sober up.

Let's not talk about waking up
in time for light set-ups...

for production meetings
or agency appointments.

A Professor of Acting Techniques?

with your elocution!

- And who, tell me, pays for all this?
- You're over-acting!

You've lost your mark.
You overshot the distance.

That's your fault, too.
You must have pushed me.

Anyway, I'm tired. I've got
a short fuse this evening.

- As an opener? How did it strike you?
- Ah... starting off with a slap...

a fresh approach to making an entrance.
Overall, not too bad.

But take care to pause
and pronounce the silent "e".

Otherwise your words sound
like a waste of breath.

So! She seems so sure such sessions
shall sew some seeds' sudden success.

Where is the bitch?

- Looking for me?
- Shh!

What is it?

Right here.

Then she should help herself!

Go ahead! I've fucking had
it with trying to talk to you!

- We're over!
- Tell us why!

Wallow in your shit, pig!

Sweaty, one-eyed, limp-dick!

- Do you see the time?
- Shit! Won't you come?

Oh, no. After all of this, I'm shot.

Not the same old excuse.
You'll never come.

Let's not argue any more.

Your make-up!

What would I do without you?

Oh! Madame Durand!
You frightened me!

Hello, Madam HéIène!

Can you hear me?

I found some fabric.

Can you believe it?

It was such a pain.

I wanted exactly the same
stuff that I remembered.

I've found a match.
You'll never guess where.

In the same shop where my mother
bought mine for my first communion.

I couldn't have the finest
quality fabric back then.

It sure brings back memories.
Know what I mean, Madam HéIène?

Such beautiful memories!

It was in the countryside.

Near the village where I was born.

I was a Cinderella.

There weren't many young
men around during the war.

My grandfather still managed to
organize a really nice little party.

With live music.

Well... some Viennese Waltzes.
You know?

And I haven't danced that way
since even at my wedding...

which was just after the Liberation.

There was rationing still.

And what do you think I came up with?

Why not turn my First Communion
fabric into a wedding dress and veil?

Though it was so small
that it looked funny...

my husband...

found that charming.

He was so handsome!

He is handsome.

If he was ever offered
lead roles in the movies,

he'd never accept them.

He's too attached to me.

Besides, that kind of work
would take up all of his time.

He loves women too much. You know?

With me, as well...

He wouldn't wait for the wedding.

But all that, Madam HéIène,
that's in the past.

See you soon.

I almost forgot!

My little girl's measurements.

Thank you.

Don't worry about showing me out!

- It's nothing. It's Madame Durand.
- Oh! She frightened me.

"Monsieur,

"in reply

"to your

"personal ad... "

It's the postman!

Hasn't anything come for me?

Aha! Here.

Really?

To HéIène Surgère...

A check!

20 francs.

- That's a fortune.
- Savor it while it lasts.

Want a drop?

That will do.

Want to see?

I'd rather listen.

"Mademoiselle... "

All that's in the past.

You ready?

"Mademoiselle,"

You don't call me that any more...

"Mademoiselle, we have the pleasure
to present you the attached check,

"number 094270, entitling
its bearer to amount of, colon:"

"20," which is to say, "twenty"!

Our mystery topic for today's
1000F Game, if you wondered,

Monsieur Joachim du Bellay,

was assisted by you.

Madame Claude-Michel proved unable
to answer the question you submitted:

"Which actress played the principal role
in And God Created Woman?"

- How'd you come up with that question?
- I had some time on my hands.

- Nice work, old girl.
- "Mademoiselle", if you please!

Do you know how many empty bottles
I counted at the door?

That's a laugh. Don't make me laugh.

Boredom? Never around here!

And drinking? Never too much.

Life's so short.

Are you following me now?

It must be the Colonel again?

But I've never had a Colonel.

He was no Colonel,

But a man from the shadows

Beyond the African sun

And the tropical sea breeze.

He was no Colonel,

Though he was big, handsome and strong.

On each shoulder, a decoration:

Victories to the south.
Defeats to the north.

A jarhead with a heart of gold!

And in his penetrating eyes

So many women have drowned,

In their love pangs, choking blood.

He was no Colonel,

Though his cot was easily set up,

All the races of the world visited it,

From the most blonde to the most black,

And all of them cried out: "Enough!"

Within his arms, covered in tattoos,

They were crushed, madly gasping for breath.

He was no Colonel,

He had a rusty knife.

He left me one night in a rage

Among some sailors' girls,

In that port, he left me adrift,

He'll come back some fine morning.

He was no Colonel,

He was my one and only hope.

Running off?

To Calais.

- Made the cut?
- Yeah.

Ah, some guys...
always making promises.

Thanks to me, the little night owl’s
free to fly off and do another play.

Oh? In that case, I'd better turn
down any further dramatic roles.

Fuck off like a good little whore.

I would but that doesn't pay as well.

Are you sure you'll be able
to find enough to drink?

It's only 11 o'clock.

Do I need to pay Madame Durand?

It's not pressing. She's on death's door.

One should never say such things!

Who's knocking it?

Fine! I'm going.

- Goodbye, Doctor.
- Goodbye, Madame Durand.

- Good morning, Doctor.
- Morning.

Doctor? Got a second?

Yes, of course.
Where shall we go?

Right here.
This won't take long.

I have a friend, the wife of a
close friend has started drinking.

- You find it funny then?
- No. I have the hiccups.

Oh, good. Listen to me.
Bend, over. I know a trick.

- Works like a charm, your "trick".
- Oh, no. See if I'm fooling.

Wait. This is... to prevent bruising.

- Is that it?
- Not at all. Just in case of homophilia.

Hemophilia.

Lie down over here.

- There on the floor?
- Want to get rid of your hiccups?

- In that cay-se, yes!
- Stop fussing. Lie back here.

Turn around.

Legs over there. Further.

And now... yes. Bring your head back
so that it's hanging downwards. There!

And now, tell me, seriously.

This friend- or, rather,
this - this acquaintance

drinks and drinks. Every day, it's
the same thing at the same time.

It'll pass, right?

How serious are the risks
to this friend?

- How long has it been going on?
- About 8 years.

Serious enough to require
my seeing her at once.

Here? I'd never dare to ask her!

You'd rather abandon this
person to such dangers?

- What's her name?
- Ah! That I'll never divulge.

You're exaggerating.
They're not so grave.

But yes they are!

- Come now! They've passed!
- What?

Your hiccups. Get back up.
You look quite ridiculous.

So, it's serious?

I'm unable to tell you anything else.

What if I were to reveal the truth to you?

- It's you!
- Me?

Me, no. No. I was only lying stupidly.

Well, well.

- You know that I am an actress?
- If you say so.

There's a part I want as an alcoholic.
Only I don't know how to approach it.

So, this whole thing has
been about picking up tricks?

It's just that I want to be very precise.
I don't want to fall flat on my back.

In advanced stages of chronic alcoholism,

intoxication spreads
throughout the body.

The consequences can be diverse.

The most frequent one is cirrhosis.

It tends to be more common
among men than women: three to one.

It's established that cirrhosis

is caused by a combination of
malnutrition and alcoholism.

Acute protein deficiency, all
by itself, can induce cirrhosis.

Cirrhosis tends to remain
asymptomatic for a while,

then it manifests in bloating,
constipation and diarrhea.

These are only physiological reactions.

The behavioral manifestations
that are of interest to you...

these can include gestures
indicating pain, twitching,

convulsions,

and changed make-up.

If it's simply a case
of chronic alcoholism,

then your role will be further enriched.

You get nervous and mental disturbances,
neurotic behavior verging on psychosis:

over-easy affectionate overtures,

mood swings,

impaired balance and euphoria.

Often, jealousy accompanies
a weakening sex drive.

Weakness.

But the most spectacular symptom
that I can recommended to you...

would be delirium tremens.

This condition is characterized
by mental confusion

which can give rise to hallucinations
that involve all the senses.

For example, at nightfall,

you might well perceive
bizarre and terrifying images:

strange animals - a zoopsia.

The world becomes more ominous...

In every case, there's a predisposition

to slip into oneiric delirium or
disintegration of consciousness.

The face changes its shape, swollen jowls,

the eyes wander or freeze,
fluxuations of the gaze, tics.

There are also convulsions, but it would
be better to use them sparingly.

On the other hand, you can get wounded
without feeling any pain:

thanks to insensitivity that
increases as the condition progresses.

I should add that full recoveries from
this disease only occur very rarely.

When relapse occurs,
it's almost always fatal.

Well, it seems Somebody
has paid the rent!

Do you have Anything left
after the rent, Somebody?

Of course I do, poor Nobody.

Couldn't Somebody
pay Nobody's rent?

Why would Somebody do that, Nobody?

Because unless Somebody does
Nobody doesn't have rent money.

Have you done Anything
to earn Any money, Nobody?

Is there Anything Nobody can do
when he hasn't got Any money!

Work with your hands.

No I can't!

Then you won't
get away with Anything.

What does Somebody do
to get away with Anything?

Put on an act!

That sounds too difficult for Nobody!

You can simply write
Anything to put on an act.

Well then...
here you go, baby.

No! Can it be true?

It's all true!

Sit down!

And don't interrupt me.

Don't interrupt me!

I won't get it.

Do you believe that?

Better read it yourself. I'll go and
retrieve you from back of the moon.

She finally gets it.

Ready to go?

- Yeah, yeah. Don't get worried.
- I'm not in the least.

Who'd have imagined that you'd
stop loving me when you got rich?

Bitch.

Just come right in!

My door is never closed to you.

- You can take that. - You
you know, to me this does not happen.

Oh really?

- I can't see any change.
- Me neither.

Seems at least you're still
holed up, waiting here.

Last time, you showed more discretion.

How long is it since she left?

8 days.

- And the time before?
- God knows.

Three?

Four.

Draw your own conclusions.

I've shown her door, definitively.

Hello?... Ah! Good morning, sir!

You'd like to talk to my wife?

I'm terribly sorry. She's not here
any more. We're divorced.

But do not worry, all is not lost.
You can always write her.

She will tell you, you
will not be so lonely.

Of course, this is not what a phone
call, but that much to do, get used to it.

I perfectly understand you.
Au revoir, monsieur!

So,

what shall we do?

What do you mean, "what shall we do"?

Always dipping into the brut?

As becomes the help.

Need a little? Waiting for me
to fetch the flutes?

Impossible. They've all
been moved. All twenty-two.

- Eleven pairs?
- No, twenty-two!

Twenty-two pairs!

She'd go and buy them every week.

The entire cabinet was full of them.

She took everything inside it.
My stuff, too.

It was... it's a long story.

You know my weaknesses,
HéIène. I'm not a fetishist.

Nonetheless she did leave her buckets

behind the vacuum cleaner. If you'd like,
you can go find them and take them away.

I shall. Thanks.

- They should be useful to somebody.
- Not to me.

Fine! Where do you want to put me?

Wherever you want other
than between my legs.

You wouldn't want to allow me there.

We could use some music around here.

That's true.

Hello?

Yes.

Talk louder - I can't hear a thing!

Yes... Yes!... Yes.

Thanks.

Yes... Yes.

Thanks a lot.

Yes. I guess so.

Well, yes. Good for you..

Oh, no. She's left. Indefinitely.
As far as I'm concerned...

She got fed up with the petit bourgeois,
middle-managerial security, sorry to say.

She'll probably wind up
like that: a schoolteacher.

Just wait and see if I'm wrong.

Oh, no. You know what?

One day, she called me and asked
if I could come over to her place.

What did I say? "I can't possibly take
a break from the office right now. "

So you've seen her? When?

What? She really tried to drag you into
this to tell me that she's blossoming?

Yeah... I know... I know.

You love who you love, but...

You know when Humphrey Bogart
in the movie gets the girl...

As he's leaving, he turns as
if to give her one last kiss:

"You knew that rekindling this
love story would never end well. "

Fine. Go. Chin up.

You sure do know how to talk to women.

It was my brother. It was my brother.

- You have a brother?
- Mmm hmm. 3. My fucked up brothers.

So you've succeeded in
getting your wife to leave you?

Yup.

You'd like me a lot I think.

In this neighborhood, that's typical.

You don't know. You never go out.

I could always take another
jab at patching up your web?

Why what could it catch?

I dunno. Memories.

- You have nothing else.
- That goes without saying.

Bastard.

This fine scene reminds
of a guy I often acted with.

He was convinced that he could only
really act once he was good and drunk.

So, at daybreak...

and all through the day,
he'd just drink and drink.

Well, the performance...

It was remarkable.

A prodigious ease.

Nobody suspected a thing.

And immediately following the final bow,

he'd spend 5 hours
trying to throw it back up.

What do you know? He never
held anything but his alcohol.

- Champagne?
- Cognac!

When I feel bitter, I seek out friends to
relive the good memories, Madam HéIène.

You don't like to visit anybody.

Yeah, yeah.

You know, I've been told that
actresses hate the theatre.

I think that it's true.

When what occurs on stage is painful,
they think they're suffering it directly.

And when it's pleasant, they're bitter
that it never goes that way for them.

In a word, it's sad and
easy to be an actress.

Ah... just in time!

Hello!

Oh, it's you... Michel?
Well, you seen her?

No? She's not around?

It's a call from England,
so... go ahead and go.

No, no, no. It's hard,
it's hard... of course.

Fuck you and your jokes!

What do you expect?
It's been a lousy year!

You can't imagine the capital losses
we've had this year. It's just incredible.

But a bitch can only think
what she's been taught.

No way... you're living
in your dreams, old man!

The female object wants to gobble up
the only object that a guy holds dear!

Yes. If you want, we could
meet this evening... Okay.

Come around, let's say, 8 p. m.

No, no. Not at the "Dome".
At the "Flower".

Okay. Ciao.

Your makeup is running.

You need to clean up.
I'd better cut the strings.

If you're looking for more to say,
what have you to say to me?

Sure. You're the first one
that this has happened to.

You? Cynical?

Yes. You're spoiled!

Two women?

Make no mistake, it's just
two different ways to escape.

And this is your freedom.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

You believe you invented it all yourself:
sex without love, love without sex.

Her selfishness only proves your loss,
your kindness proves her loneliness.

That's all you have to say, huh?

A maid to lecture me on humanity,
to clean my conscience?

Thanks for the word. I've been looking
for a clean conscience and here it is.

Your clean conscience.

Here you are, left alone, empty, afraid
of the night when you'll need to wake up.

Your little mess - it's a good alibi,
nicely arranged for every occasion.

Cling to the dream. It's
much easier, the dream.

Good cover for ambitions.

Lying takes practice.
Otherwise, it doesn't work.

Just look at you.
As if you've swallowed a whale.

Self-pity is all you know. No wonder
you've sought out two mothers.

The time has come, old boy,
to cut your umbilical cord.

Why not with the teeth like the savages?

What do you blame her for, your wife?
For leaving at an inconvenient time?

But this is not by chance, monsieur.

Why don't you just say: "I have been...

"... abandoned. I'm a cuckold. "

You're afraid of banalities

but you're nothing but a banality
... of the most common variety.

Change your shirt.

And pull yourself together for once.

Guys like you fill the bistros

having grown up full of trash.

How laughable what
you have to offer women...

Some little ceremony...

Most guys... thrive,

Loathing their lives.

Most guys... get by,

Half the time.

They regret... their pull,

So photogenically.

That unpolished polish

Of the bedroom's graduate.

Men come around in mourning,

Their love is deadly.

Men shudder, go gray,

Fearing a little difficulty, yes.

They bristle, they shrink,

At their little disappointments.

Lit up, snuffed out,

In pursuit of a little "yes. "

Men blossom,

In the flower of their life.

Men give their all

Half the time.

The number you have
dialed is no longer valid.

You're crying?

No. I've inhaled something.
Some floor wax.

Can it be true?

What do you suppose
has happened to me?

- A guy?
- Oh, no. No.

- A woman?
- The horror!

- A couple?
- Hold on! Never had the chance.

No. Better than that!

- Better? Chabrol.
- No.

- Demy?
- Alas!

Bresson... and you weren't
an actress at all!

But no! This isn't about the movies.

- This happened in the Metro.
- In the Metro? You ran into Julien?

- What would he be doing in the subway?
- Yes. That's true...

Here! Now do you understand?

- Enough of your jokes.
- Play along!

Stop acting. I'm tired.

Hush! I'm not acting!
Something really happened to me!

Then tell me about it.

Something big. Fantastic!
Sublime in its grandeur!

- What is it?
- A miracle! Here it is!

But that's some money.

I found it in the Metro.

- In the Metro?
- In Barbès-Rochechouart station.

- At Barbès-Rochechouart?
- At 6 o'clock.

Barbès at 6 o'clock?
You're right, that's a miracle.

I thought I'd gone mad.

I was sitting there waiting for the train.

You're not even looking at me.
I never do that.

What do I spot right between
my feet? In the flesh, Moliere!

Moliere? Let me see! Oh... he's torn!
500 old francs

No. That's Pascal.
500 new francs

I couldn't make up my mind.
I was hypnotized by him.

I was embarrassed by my luck.

Just thinking of all the work
this represented!

Then I thought, shit! I put my bag down
on the ground and threw it in the pocket.

And now, it's party time.

- What?
- Well, yes. Party time!

Look at everything I bought.

A bottle of champagne.

Some sausage. Don't look dejected,
I know you don't like them.

As a wonderful accompaniment to
the champagne - a goose cassoulet.

Sausages on the side.

Some black olives. Some green olives.

Some... some spices... some mustard.

and also preserved lemon and tarragon,

some black pepper.

And some cherry brandy.

- Is that all?
- No.

I also bought you some thread, needles
and so forth and stopped by the pharmacy.

As you can see,
I kept everything in mind.

Anyway, it's pink champagne.
I can't drink that without getting gas.

Fine. I'll drink it.

A cassoulet is no good unless
roasted and we have no oven.

But it's already done.

Enough with your mustard!

Need I remind you we still have the 12 jars

purchased with your inheritance from
that grandmother who died in Venezuela.

Why are you so nasty?

You really are just a bird brain.

You keep changing your part
and I can't keep up any more.

One minute, you show me the actress bit,
and then, it's the working girl bit...

where you find a large sum of cash like
the ones in a petit bourgeois novel,

and finally, the caring friend bit.

What should be believed?
Which part is true?

Happening on 500 francs,

screaming about miracles,
about finding jobs and roles.

And not so much as
a word about your audition.

It was cancelled.

And why would your audition get
cancelled so suddenly like that?

It wasn't cancelled. I don't give
a fuck that they kicked me out.

- I wasn't the right role for me.
- But a role to sustain you!

All in good time.

But you've seen our income.
Someone's got to keep this boat afloat.

You show me the income
but you lie about expenses.

You scold me about my champagne.

But who is doing the scolding?
And what for?

I was so happy!

I'm having a unbearable day.

Good. Now you draw
and put down the card.

Right... put it down on the man
you're going to meet travelling.

Then put the next one down
on the troubles that follow.

Put one down on the lady.
Must be Madame Durand.

Who'll give us the money we owe her?

Oh! Seems there's no hurry.

That can be postponed.

Next, the man to whom you've written.

Nothing much happening:
he's keeping you in suspense.

Now set one down here:
let's see what happens.

Oh. That's no good.

Can't we start over?

No!

- The cards are very stubborn.
- Oh.

Never try to trick them. You'll no
longer be able to believe them.

- Feel like making some lemonade?
- Yes. I could do that. Yes, sure.

Forgive me for being late,
but I had to go upstairs.

At Madame Durand's place.

How is she feeling?

Worse. Worse than before.

- The late stages of syphilis.
- Oh! I had no idea.

- Ah... you didn't know?
- No.

I'm not sure if I should have told you.

Madame Durand hasn't always
played the part of Madame Durand.

Oh really?

There was a lot of excitement,
if you must know.

Before, she moved up to landlady,
she collected money from passersby.

She was selling something...

I daresay, moreover,

something of interest to the vice cops.

My predecessor did all he could to preserve
the goods, there's no other way to put it.

It's nice when fortune comes around.

But one day, he left.

On vacation, three months.

In Africa.

When he returned, they were all infected.

I tried but I was only able
to save Madame Durand.

All of the others died
in most terrible agony.

It's time. Prepare me a basin
of water brought to a rolling boil.

Sorry to disappoint you,

this is my last delivery because
after today I'm leaving you.

Oh, really?

How much do I owe you?

450, which ought to be settled today.

There you go. Keep the change.
What happened? Changing jobs?

That's it. I'm fed up with it.
All this rotten Paris trash stinks.

Living alone in Paris in a rented room.
Each and every day, it was eating me up:

My grave's ready for me.
Why not? I'll go away.

You have no one?

No one to speak of.

And over there?

Over there... sunlight, seawater,
women,... another life.

You think so?

I saw passing, across the gloomy sky,

Rippling with sunlight,

Something truly sensational.

I saw the smiles of women,

Completely free of fuss and drama,

And in their eyes, dancing flames.

And in their eyes, dancing flames.

I've known African songs,

Painful, sad farewells,

Suffering all the deadlines.

I've touched sweet lips,

And red hair like silk,

And flowers of love along the way.

And flowers of love along the way.

I've dreamed some fantastic dreams,

Visions, full of poetry.

The samba we danced in the open air.

I dreamed a girl was waiting there,

With skin the color of cinders,

Who reminded me of Cassandra!

I remember Cassandra.

The fluttering eyelashes of a clever girl

Have lured me into her cage.

Have lured me into her cage.

Goodbye, Madame HéIène.

Tell your Cassandra that when she's
done, we want her to send you back.

Isn't it enough to have sobriety
suddenly descend upon me?

Oh my God, my heart
will break, full of blood,

No more deliveries at my door,

Revived from the ultimate slumber...

What a strange wake-up, I've had:

Woken up after 16 years, too bad.

Woken up after 16 years, too bad.

Ah! Already?

It's a bad case of the flu.

You can treat her yourself.
I'll prescribe some antibiotics.

Will it be an suppository or shot?

This won't involve suppositories
or injections, only gelatin capsules.

Two every two hours.

Ah. What to do? What to do?
We're so disorganized.

As you can see, I can't go out.
Couldn't it be delivered?

Wait one moment...

These should get her through the night.

Do you have enough lemonade?

Oh, that we don't have.

Do you know anything
about so-called pop music?

Electric.
It's for my son.

Well, I used to know some Sinatra:
"Strangers in die nacht... "

In that case...

You owe me 45 francs.

Sonia!

What did you do
with that 500 franc note?

No use looking for it. I don't have change.
You can pay me another time. Shake on it.

Shake.

I was knocking on the door,
but you didn't hear me.

I feel drunk on these antibiotics.

I heard Madame Durand in the courtyard.

The sickness is spreading.

It must be spreading through the building.
This whole floor must be infected.

You'd better go warn them.
Quickly, please.

Sorry to bother you so early, but my
flight to San Francisco is in an hour.

- Is that getting you high?
- No, it's herbal.

It stinks!

Excuse me?

Sonia tells me that there's
an epidemic spreading through the block.

She's sick?

- 40 degrees.
- Is she delirious?

- Naturally.
- Here.

- Oh! Put that away.
- No. It's for you.

Keep it until I come back.

I don't want your money.

- I want you to. Won't you?
- I'm not going to say.

It's not mine. I borrowed it.

Well, take it back where you got it.

Off to mother's.

You're the one who needs money.
Send me a postcard.

Thanks. A fine farewell.

Darling? I have good news for you.
You're completely delirious.

She's sleeping.

How I pity you. Such faithfulness!

No, no. You're feverish.

...how I pity...

What are you saying?

Madame, deserved better fortune.

She's far gone.

- How I pity him. Such faithfulness!
- Here we are.

Yes, yes. Wait... just a moment.

This sudden retreat leaves me
concealing a troubled heart.

I would have kept him back.

Who? Me? Keep him back?

No, rather would I lose the memory of him.

You'd have me, then, encourage such a senseless love?

Titus has not yet explained his mind.

Rome gazes upon you,
Madam, with jealous eyes.

The strictures of its laws
make me shudder for you.

Roman men shall marry
none but Roman women.

Rome hates all royalty,

and Berenice is queen.

There time's run out, Phoenice,
for me to shudder.

He who loves me can do anything.

He needn't even speak

for, seeing him, the Senate
shall pay homage to me.

and deck me with flowers
as they do his statues.

What a night, Phoenice.
Haven't you seen its splendor?

Your eyes, haven't they been
filled with its grandeur?

These bonfires, torches, and lamps
blazing all through the night?

The eagles and officers
filling the ranks of this army?

This throng of Kings, Consuls,
Senators, all of them...

to my lover, have come to
surrender their radiance.

All of this purple and gold,
only tributes to his glory.

And those laurels, too,
testimonials to his victory.

All of these eyes, gathered
from across the world,

converging,

upon him alone,

their hungry eyes.

His majestic bearing

that gentle presence.

Heavens!

With such awe and how gladly

do all of these hearts offer
pledges of their faith to him.

Oh! Such faithfulness,
Madame, deserved better fortune.

Read the first oath.

This sudden retreat leaves me
concealing a troubled heart.

You must recall that, at the opening,
Berenice's womb is in full flower.

How I am supposed to convey that?
What does "in full flower" mean?

At least that proves that a person who's
delirious isn't completely demented.

- Roll on the ground like a bacchant?
- No.

And don't have a seizure, either.

They shouldn't see it, because
it can't be expressed.

Act like you're getting fucked.

- Where did you learn that?
- Introductory classes in drama school.

Blood! So much blood!

- Luckily, that means sweet dreams.
- The things you say!

No ad-libbing, bitch!

Work a bit more.

Andromaque. Next, Andromaque.

- Remember Chantal?
- Sure.

who couldn't memorize Agrippina
and was forever saying:

"Repeat back the lines I didn't say"?

I hope that my son is ready
to do what I expect of him!

- She'd loosen up with a good shake.
- Not to mention whiskey.

- Know what became of her?
- No.

She got married and, for once,
didn't screw it up in rehearsal.

And her friend?
The fat one?

Miriam?

- Hollywood.
- Hollywood?

As a screenwriter.

- That's what happened to fatty.
- I'll say!

No. She used an agency.

She was always played that gag

where you add par devant and
par-derrière to each phrase?

- Wasn't it funny
- ... her face

- when she killed them?
- ... with her backside.

Can you still recite your
'Petit Robert' lesson?

One, two, three:

How cute was he!

- Who did Martine marry?
- Not her, HéIène. You're mixed up.

She appeared so sophisticated.
But she read less than a word...

and she already sounded like
a newspaper seller in the North.

What a mess!

So it goes.

Who is left for us? Our Voltaire?

Andre quit everything,
Jean-Claude became a critic

Jean-Loup sells appliances.

Aren't you getting a little
cold with your fever?

Nothing's working.

Nothing? That's simply our Fate, darling.

- You meant,"Nothing to read," perhaps?
- Yes.

Once, some years ago,
it was extraordinary...

- Already heard it?
- No.

She'd never met so fine, young, and rich
a man. Could he be attracted to her?

- Fall in love with her?
- Well, she was kind of slouch.

They travelled around
the world for four years.

She wrote to me about
paratyphoid fever in Venezuela;

thrush in San Francisco;

a heart attack in Brazil.

- She told of a strange disease contacted
- Contracted.

- What?
- "Cont-R-acted. "

Contracted... in the houses of an unknown
people... or otherwise neglected.

- She did what she could do.
- Yes. Exactly.

Alone, in Berlin where he'd abandoned her,

she fell under an impresario's influence:

he was looking for a tall, thin
girl old-fashioned beauty.

He no sooner saw her than he proposed.

A career... international tours...

She earned crazy money,
like you've never seen.

Hardened by life, she met her old lover
again... and threw away her career.

Ever since, they've carried on as perfect
lovers on a private island in the Azores.

Needless to say, that's not too
bad for a butcher's daughter.

To sum up: there's nothing left for me.

What are you complaining about?
That means less competition.

There you have it: proof that
there is such a thing as a calling.

- Such a thing as what?
- A calling.

It's that essential for me to act.

Get out! Quick!
It's the doctor!

I'm coming from downstairs
where a certain Madame Durand

assured me this was the residence
of Mademoiselle HéIène Surgère.

- That must be you?
- I guess so.

And I'm sure of it.

Jean-Michel Evermorenay.
It's a pseudonym.

But that's not what I've come about.

I decided to come to you personally,
although he had every opportunity

restrict epistolary genre.

Indeed, sir.

You have worked for me
for at least eight years.

Do you know how your boss,
I am entitled to say:

your handwriting is perfect.

That's why we were able
to accept certain delays.

I was just finishing them.

Sit down. I should only be a few minutes.

I'll gladly sit down but
don't bother finishing.

All of your hard work would be,
as they say in showbiz,

...in vain!

In vain!

In vain, Madame!

We're facing an import crisis.

Profits are turning into losses.

- What are you talking about?
- Inflation.

Circumstances have required liquidations.

It's all interlinked:
the dollar to oil,

oil to energy,

energy to factories,
factories to paper,

and paper to our envelopes!
Our dear envelopes!

Global crisis, my dear little lady!

OPEC, Kuwait,

England

Stromboli, Spaghetti,
FIAT, Qaddafi

home workers will not
survive the corrections:

credit, credit, credit.

You're wiped out, Monsieur.
A drop of Champagne?

Ah... it's cold? Thanks for offering.

Mind you,

I wouldn't ordinarily
however seeing that...

I suppose I can, seeing that you
are no longer employed by us.

I've always pitied the poor and vulnerable.

- But you didn't know us when.
- But I did.

You couldn't know,
but we conduct studies

on each of our applicant's handwriting.

So I know a good deal about you!

Behind the scenes,

I've carefully studied your file.

Let me tell you:

you resemble your handwriting.

Not another word, sir.
You're making me nervous.

I can't help it.
This kind of stuff fascinates me.

Oh really?

Would you like me to read your cards?

Or your palm?

- The left.
- As usual.

What have we here?

It seems he's lacking character!

A little bit spineless,
a little bit lazy,

A long life line,
good health...

You're about to leave...

- That'll be 45 francs.
- 45 francs?

Well you come right to the point...

Just so you know, there will be no
further need for your services.

Nor for the stuffed envelopes.
We don't need any more headaches.

And this small supply is all
we are able to offer you.

Au revoir, monsieur.

My regrets, Madame.
My deepest regrets for this loss...

- ... so cruel...
- Loss? What loss?

How is my patient?

- She's dead.
- Shit!

How can I help you?

It's too late... Excuse me, I need
to mail these funeral announcements.

- In blank envelopes? That's strange.
- These are the ones that came back.

You'd better leave. Don't you
need to see another patient?

- Was it the doctor?
- Yes.

- Did you pay him?
- Of course not.

- What do you tell him?
- Nothing much. He thinks you're dead.

Where are you going?

Isn't it enough for you to see me
weeping here, humiliated?

It wasn't jealousy that made me
come... much less to confront you.

I have seen him die, my husband,
the only person who mattered to me.

Ever since I've found myself
left alone without desire.

Fortunately, he has left me a son.

Someday, perhaps,
you shall have one, too.

And you'll know just how far one
may be driven for love for a child.

And yet, I hope that you will never
have to contemplate what I have today,

the anxiety, the anguish...

while I've waited to see him
taken away from me!

Remember...

when they wanted to kill your mother,

I convinced my husband
to come to her aid.

Today try to make yours do as I did him!

What could he fear from
a child without a father?

What sort of threat could he be to him?

Leave him to his mother.
You may rest assured,

my son shall only learn to weep with her.

Sonia...

How was it?

Listen...

an exercise like this one is pointless

unless approached once
you've found an equivalence.

This is a scene where... very briefly,

coming right in the middle of the play,

there's a moment where
Andromache is in the grips of panic.

Until this moment, she's had
the situation in her own grip...

piously clinging to her reigns and
everything's been gone fairly well,

And the predicament of saving her son,

has thrown her off course.
He'll be killed in one day!

Right away!

Got it?

Here's a woman about to lose everything.
Everything! Absolutely everything.

She has just one thing left
from a love that was immense:

that's a child.

The way you're saying:
"He gave... he gave me a son"...

A son!

A... something of his!

And so, she's suddenly
overflowing with emotions.

So, if you are to make
the lines your own,

you must project them with an intensity,

a terrifying intensity!

In this scene, she is saving
the life of... of her son.

Got it?

You have to... you have to get into...

She'll... she'll die
if she doesn't save him!

And to die would be meaningless
to her because she's ready to die.

I get it.

- You get it?
- Yes.

I don't know... obviously, you've...

Nobody's has ever been in such a
tragic situation. And you aren't...

Cap... nobody's capable of enduring it.

Moreover, she's visiting
a woman who's been her rival,

upon whom she is now
utterly dependent even though

she knows very well that
this woman hates her...

reflexively.

She puts up as her pledge, what...

how to put it...

...essence isn't even
the word... You've got to...

You've got to tear open your belly!

An child is inside this belly.
You have to tear it open!

I get it!

You think I don't know what
it's like to lose such a child?

After all that I've lost?

Oh, HéIène!

It shouldn't have been this way!

I had it... bore it in my womb
for how many long months?

How many long days?

I expected it to happen!
You don't know what that is like!

I lived only for that.

Each breath... each morning
I awoke, holding onto hope.

The hope that someday, I'd find joy.

And then one day, the moment that
I had truly hoped for...

when it would all be clear to me.

It's all over, Helen.

- It's all over...
- Right there. That's it!

Andromache is exactly that!

Shit!

Come on.

Thank you.

Okay?

Yes.

- Sonia...?
- It's only me.

Hurry in. Your package
is waiting on the table.

When you rang, I thought you were Sonia.

She left three days ago. She's reading
poetry at the People's National Theatre.

I want to have to her dinner ready.

She loves chocolate cream.

It's beautiful, isn't it?

Are you pleased?

Be careful! You're going to wrinkle it.

Remember those memories.

It's your daughter's turn to live them now.

Look at the ones I've made for her!

She's gone.

They're gone.

Both of them.

I' came back from shopping
and no one was home.

He took his money, couldn't
he at least leave his daughter?

Not so much as a letter.

When did this happen?

Three days ago.

I received a note from
my daughter yesterday.

It's all over.

Won't he come back to you?

I can't understand it at all.

I tried everything I could
to make my husband happy!

Wasn't I a good mother to my daughter?

I thought so.

What can I do?

I don't even know where they are.

The postcard came from the Loire,
but that doesn't mean anything.

Are you sure that this isn't a joke?

No. That's not his style. Everyone
has always found him too serious.

And he couldn't have gone
away with another woman.

If he had, my daughter would
never have gone with them.

That's another strange detail.

She didn't take anything.

Martine even left her dolls.

That night...

I slept in her room and I had a dream.

Do you believe in dreams, Madam HéIène?

It was my husband.

He was riding a big motorcycle.

Someone was holding
onto him from behind.

I thought it must have been me.

Me... at the age when
he first took me.

But then... I thought that
I recognized my daughter.

Then the motorcycle slowed down

and I could see that it was a large doll.

What was she saying?

"Mama! Mama!"

just the way dolls do.

I woke up believing that
Martine was there beside me.

But no...

I had the doll in my hands.

And I had torn off her head.

That doesn't mean anything.
It was just a dream.

Honestly, Madam Ellen:

do you really believe that
a woman can make it on her own?

Of course I do.

You only have to file a brief.

But I can't divorce him.
I don't even know where he is.

Anyway, I don't want to.

I still love him.

He's bound to come back.

You think so?

It's the same old story:

You think you've found
happiness somewhere until...

you come back to in your bed slippers.

You should stay with us. Don't refuse.

Sonia will be here any minute.

Ah! That's right. Tonight's her TV show.

Oh... that's tonight. I'd forgotten.

I heard there was a party.
I've brought the supplies.

Hope I didn't forget
anything in my haste.

Hello.

Hello, madam.

Have you caught the virus?

- No, it's her husband.
- The virus got him?

- He's gone away.
- For a long time?

Please forgive me, Madame HéIène.

It was so kind of you to invite me. But
I don't want to spoil your little party.

I need to spend a little time alone.

But I'll try to watch your
TV show, Madame Sonia.

Goodbye.

Don't bother to show me out.

Now for more serious matters:

- the TV!
- The TV? What TV?

It's almost time!

What is this?

You could have asked
me to send you money.

This is all you were able
to drink in the mean time?

Since I ran out of money a month ago.

That's all you can say
about this situation?

You're still interested in what I do?

After the last season, you weren't
supposed to come back for more.

You watch it so rarely otherwise,
that it seemed like a luxury.

A luxury, given our situation...?

For once, I have a good role.

How am I supposed to watch it now?

Tell me off... but don't sulk.

I can't bear that.

You could go to Victor's Cafe.
He's a fan of yours, isn't he?

Good idea! I'd better hurry
because you need a drink.

- Since you put it that way, you're still sore.
- No, no. Drink yourself silly!

They'll never recognize you in that get-up.

I have no idea what you mean.

Bad girl!

- A mulled wine, please.
- Right away, Madame Sonia.

Would you mind turning on the TV?

There's nothing on but a rugby match.

I don't watch them. They're too brutal.

My wife and I only watch tennis.

The way the ball flies
through the air like a bird!

As far as I'm concerned,
it's a very manly sport.

I was trying to pull a fast one.
I have a premiere tonight...

In that case, I'll turn you on.

You actually wanted to see me here?

Shit! I've missed the credits!

I couldn't bear to see
you again in our house.

A lot has changed, you know.

My life has to changed, too.

Everything has changed.

Even you.

You've got a guilty
expression on your face.

You don't seem happy.

You're still not happy
after all this time?

Happiness...

isn't for sale.

It's not something found
lying on the roadside.

It doesn't pop up out of nowhere.

It matures slowly.

It must be protected.

- And lot more besides.
- I can look after my moral welfare.

I never tried to do that. If I'd have been
obliged to, I wouldn't have known how.

By now, of course, I'm out of practice.

Leaving behind a daughter,
that made my head spin.

- I'd like to see her again.
- What gives you the right?

When you left, she was ten.

She kept asking about you
for the first three years.

But I wrote to you from San Francisco.

Did you imagine that I would
show her your letters?

She's forgotten you now.

That's right, wife.

You're mean-spirited. You
always were mean-spirited.

And you always were frivolous.
Frivolous and fragile.

Marcel, why are you
calling me at Victor's?

You wrote that the warm climate
had done you good?

- Are you still coughing?
- Yes. A little bit sometimes.

Less and less. However, the air
in Paris isn't agreeing with me.

Then leave!

I lost you once. Just like that.
I won't let you do that to her.

Not even for one night.

Is that you? In prime time?

That's really you, isn't it?

That is you.

Victor. Long time no see.

She's not quite done
but I'll take her place.

Helen?

Helen!

Helen!

Madame Durand, you frightened me!

Quiet you fool. She's dead.

Don't just stand there like that.

Run down to the bistro and call the doctor.
Tell him to come quickly.

Is the show already over?

No. I was getting spotted.

How did you explain my leaving to her?

What else could I do?

Under the circumstances, I
tried to afford you some dignity.

I had no other choice.

I told your daughter that you were dead.

- My daughter wouldn't recognize me.
- My daughter wouldn't recognize me.

Vice has marked you.

You disgusting shamelessness
has taken care of the rest:

Your eyes.

your lips,

your hands.

You're nothing but a sordid caricature
of the woman we once knew.

You fool. They've been marked by
joy. I don't find that shameful.

I owe you for a phone call, Victor.

I should hope that my daughter
would recognize that, too.

You're paid up with your
performance, Madame Sonia.

You've finally found some courage?

- Is that all that's troubling you?
- Madame Durand is dead.

Oh my God! We can only drink to her.

My poor Julien.

You never could keep a woman,
does the same apply to your daughter?

That's the last straw.

You've finally made up your mind.

What's wrong?

- Was the show that bad?
- No.

- Did you call the doctor?
- I always do everything you ask me to!

Then, come and see. Come.

What's the meaning of this?

- She has just died.
- Sure. I believed you last time.

Let me tell you, Madam,
you're a nasty bitch.

Doctor! In a house of mourning?

Where were your scruples last time?

If you didn't have any money,
why didn't you just say so?

Thanks to my illness,
my eyes have been opened.

I've realized that my need
to act on the stage

has nothing to do with talent.

It has nothing to do
with the acting profession.

An actress hasn't performed her scene

until she's used the vulnerability
of being an actresses.

Exploiting such vulnerability,

makes her characters seem more human.

That's what I've never gotten.

or I never understood
except as if by the magic

that endowed me with
that strength and pride.

Me, just think!

With my little bird brain...

I've never understood anything.

On the stage, I can
become beautiful.

Clever, almost.

Whatever it may have been
that made me different.

Happy.

So I started acting,
to recover that state.

I used to think that only
theater could do that to me.

All those evenings after my readings
had been cut at auditions...

I'd walk around all night long.

Stopping from time to time at a bar.
Then drink a mulled wine or a grog.

I'd find myself on the canal banks.

I'd sit there...

losing track of several hours,
thinking about nothing.

And then at dawn, there it would be.

I'd be in the mood that
Julien liked to get me into.

I felt good.

No theatrical part in the world has
been able to give me such serenity.

That's because

...you're looking for emotions... for sensations.

Theatre is like sex.

It's not about pleasure
but the build-up to it.

With precision and generosity, we make
the audience infantile and malleable-

just as we do a man.

Julien would say:

"This metaphor is curious!"

I doubt he'd have noticed today.

You've made me blabber
with your soul searching.

Anyway, none of this excites
my appetite much anymore.

Julien would do the same
stuff with me, of course.

But the fascination didn't last long.

Except for the day he asked me
to put on some of your clothes.

You slept with him..

Why not? What does it mean
to sleep "with" someone?

In five years, I only found
him sleeping me twice.

Do you remember how
he would masturbate?

Light out, eyes shut,

jaw clenched...

Moaning softly, pulling
a pillow closer to him.

He had such a small prick.

I don't know why men
care so much about that.

What difference does it make?

Big or small,
thick or thin:

Uncork a bottle and it comes.

And it's easy to handle.

Every time I met
a guy with a huge one,

I ran away, madam!

In horror.

I'm very tight.

With Julien you must have seemed busted.

It was small, but it stayed hard.

- Shameless!
- Only where you're concerned.

You have nothing to say
other than your jokes.

And that’s about all you
could get from loving him.

Tell me:

did you put on my clothes?

Of course.

It seemed naturally to me.

One time, he even asked me,
"Why don't you go find her?"

He wanted you to join us.
But I couldn't find you.

He made me get up...
on the bed and spread my legs.

He lit up my sex with a lamp.

Did you blow a fuse?

I always did everything he asked me to.

Myself...

Myself...

I would spoil everything by laughing.

Right in the middle of fucking.

I'd sit on my ass on the bed, laughing.

Like a madwoman.

And he'd seethe with rage.

I told him: "If that's how you like it,
we'd better get divorced right away. "

Afterwards, that very day,
I cheated on him.

- Oh?
- Yes.

I cheated on him and told him
all about it a little while later.

It went on like that.

The day came when he got fed up.

Giving me that sickening look.

The no good lout.

He had some talents.

He taught me about Portuguese tea.

The kind you suck from the spout.

Till it runs dry.

Why haven't you taken more lovers?

I've said goodbye to men.

And women?

I've tried, believe me.

Nobody should die a complete idiot...

and also because I'd been
turned on by Julien's fantasies.

I didn't like it.

Breasts have a peculiar odor.

Isn't it getting too dark
in here? Turn on a light.

A man is beautiful.

Big and clean.

Smelling of pepper and cinnamon.

Anyway all that doesn't matter
to me much anymore.

Just like in the theater: I'll start
to giggle. It's only a matter of time.

She can still giggle
when she's tickled silly.

I'm a little old lady.

I must be, too. I've forgotten
what I was going to say.

You were born before me.
But you're younger nonetheless.

- You were saying?
- About that? Yes.

I can't live without it.

In the Metro, on the street, in the bistros -

The song remains the same.

But it won't for long.

If they only knew how foolish
they look, sometimes. Men!

Always.

Yes, always. You're right.

They never see anything.

Unless they're shown.

Since you're able to do without men...

I'll live out my days as Julien's wife.

I'll never remarry. I made a vow.

What a beautiful love story!

You won't remarry me, either.
Julien won't remarry me.

A beautiful love story.

I won't be bothered
if I don't remarry.

Rely on men...

and you get buried...

in crappy affairs!

Absolutely!

- Are you expecting someone?
- Me? Who could I be expecting?

Help me, quick!

Helen!

It's...

...it's a man!

- You are Sonia Saviange?
- How do you know?

I'm Lucien.

Number 200-210.

Come in. Welcome.

I feel a little embarrassed to come
only now and without any warning.

I was passing through Paris
and I wanted to meet you.

You are undoubtedly, like me, a little nervous.

But you've read the wedding ads.

- May I come in?
- Well, why not?

- Please do.
- Excuse me.

Who is he?

Look...,

Find something to do. Behave yourself.

First of all, I think I need
to reveal the whole truth.

It no use concealing who one is inside:
the whyfors and whathaveyous.

I lied to you in my letters as you can see.
I am less than fifty years old.

I hope you do not scare my revelations.

I'm only aroused by women
who remind me of my mother.

And it turns out that you resemble her.

- Me?
- Yes.

And now my arousal
has become a hunger.

You were so honest in your letters,

that I felt obligated to completely
reveal my intentions to you.

I hate dishonesty,
so I'll tell it like it is.

If my revelations are repulsive to you,

just tell me so honestly and
you'll hear no more from me.

On the other hand, if...

you sincerely feel the same way,

as I do, as you may guess
from the way I'm looking at you,

assuming, naturally...
you'd also be able to...

when it came to...
fulfilling these delicate urges...

perform the role of...
a mother and lover...

submissive and dominating...

In other words, could you simultaneously
satisfy my needs as a son and lover?

If so,

I would say that I've come
knocking on the right door.

You may rest assured, sir,

I gathered all of this from your letters.

Let me clarify that I am
have a certain amount

which could provide
available to Sony

in exchange for a preliminary experiment,

during which

we could try one another out.

This arrangement suits me, sir.
We have an agreement.

Excuse the way she's acting.
She's still in shock from...

reading the grisly news report about
our parents' murder... so recently.

- How recently?
- This morning.

- This morning? And already in the papers?
- This morning was the burial.

Her depression was bound to get worse.

- How much?
- You have no idea.

- Had I known, I never...
- Oh, no. Wait!

My relationship with Sonia entitles me
to discuss your proposal on her behalf.

- Relations...?
- Yes! I am her sister.

Or something like that.

Does that also entitle you
to assist her... physically?

If you would like that,
it would be a real pleasure!

Here are just a

there will be enough for you now
prepared you money?

Is it too late
make such a choice?

I'm too shy and afraid
how would the force of habit

no overcame my desire.

You will lead his new habits.
The main thing - trust our skill.

Do you require further accessories?

No, but a certain mise en scene
wouldn't be disagreeable.

You could show up as
Sonia's maid, for example.

In an apron with a vacuum?

No, no.

Let's not descend into caricature.

- Do you have another fetish?
- No, no, no. I'm not into anything else.

I just need the kind of familiarity
one finds in communi-ni-nion,

Warmth, tenderness, and...

Love? A man like you has
demanding expectations...

Well, it's possible. It all depends on
the price you're prepared to pay for it.

No. I can see we're incompatible.

Illusion appears to satisfy you
more than the real thing!

No. Keep your distance, Madam HéIène.

Doesn't my little boy like
how I'm touching him?

Seems you've gotten yourself
a little dirty, little boy?

- What do you take me for, madam?
- Whatever you want...

we only have to settle on the price.

You are grotesque!
Give that back to me!

500 francs! Is that how little
you esteem Sonia?

You've mistaken me for someone else.

That's show business.

Whatever you want.
We'll fulfill your wildest dreams.

- Madame...
- Don't you want it? The maternal breast?

Madam, you're out of control.
I'm begging you.

Stop being an idiot.
Come, come!

There you go! Come. There.

No!

Mamma...

No!

No! Stop! You have no right.
You'll never been a mother.

HéIène! Stop messing with her, mister!

You have your needs. I do, too.
Don't think about the cash!

It's only 500 francs.

- Where is it? Put your hands up.
- Ouch! Ouch!

- Stop!
- Sonia?

He backed up onto my knife!

He'll come to my breast now!

Sonia!

Just tell me what you want! What?

What do you want from me? What?

Hey! Help me.

Get a blanket!

He's wiped out!

Go on.

Go on.

There you go.

That's the last one.

We're going to be dry around here.

Maybe there's something
in Madame Durand's cabinets?

- She had nothing left.
- And her money? What became of it?

She was nothing but a lackey.
The money went to California.

We've got to go out.

Come on, now. It's time to go.

- No! No...!
- Yes, yes...

Sit down.

It happens to everyone sooner or later,

Cheating age cheats failing sight,

It is given to all and sundry

Sorrow at their age is a sorry sight,

Growing up in the suburbs,

Cheating age cheats failing sight,

She had set her heart on it,

Sorrow at their age is a sorry sight,

What's freshly bought is delivered rotten.

Cheating age cheats failing sight,

An expressway to nowhere,

Sorrow at their age is a sorry sight,

The wind and the rain, drip and drop,

Keep a watch out for the killers,

Anything that may be
enjoyed fades away,

Cheating age, the same old song,

To recapture a little girl's generosity,

Sorrow at their age is a sorry song,

Just like a gleaming drop of blood,

Like a gleaming drop of blood,

Her luster's slowly dried up,

Her luster's slowly dried up,

Her luster's slowly dried up,

dried up...

- What brings you here with that sidekick?
- By sidekick, you must mean Sonia!

Sidekick is right. You're
messing up the neighborhood.

If the guys get a good laugh for nothing,
that's all us girls will be prancing for.

I see one needs to prove one's
credentials to make a living here...

No offense honey, but it's hard
to reel in Johns around here.

Hard enough when you're 30. So we've
kicked the old pros out of the neighborhood.

- We're hungry.
- Who isn't! What do I care?

Here's 10 francs. Now beat it!

Thank you, Madam.

Give that bitch her money back!
We're not beggars now are we?

Oh! If you have other means,
then I won't bother.

Who do you think you are?

What's your problem with us?

When you're as beautiful as we are,
you don't have to wear a wig.

We've lived.

Once your clients discover
what we have in store for them,

you'll be packed off to a factory.

Love... it's style.

It's theater!

Fantasy!

Oh... give it back to me.
I can see now that you're no pros.

But I'm warning you, you'll be
packed off somewhere soon.

- Why?
- That's your problem.

Each according to her pleasure
means only one to an intersection.

See you, madam.
Good fuck, madam.

Come on. I'll show you
how to earn money.

- Want some?
- No.

- What do you want then?
- Please sing.

Get out of here!
What are you doing hanging around here!

- Monsieur, we are shooting a movie!
- Where is the camera? Show me the camera!

Let me go! She took my bottles!

You saw her! I want my
money! I want my money!

- No. Those weren't your bottles!
- Don't tell me what's mine!

But get off of me! Oh! I get it!

You're her accomplice!
You work together!

Charles! Call the police! Charles?

Yes! They're on their way!

You've lost your mind!
Ranting and raving like this.

This is outrageous! You must know
that a woman should never be beaten!

At least not in public.

And I'm not a woman?
A woman's just robbed me, sir!

- We'll return your stuff.
- Look, let's... - See! You admit it!

Police!

- How much?
- She's an anarchist!

Police!

Haven't the supermarkets
satisfied your demands?

Police!

How much for these two crappy bottles?

I don't want to see them again!
It's certainly not her first offense!

Police!

- My husband has sent for them!
- How much?

I need to see the bottling dates.

Oh! You're fucked, bitch.
Better get what you can.

- It's not even vintage. Try it!
- No, thanks.

Here's 50 francs. How about
you forget all of this... hmm?

- And keep the difference.
- Fine! Okay, okay.

Listen to me.

Even when you believe it's too late,

you can always straighten yourself out.

It's just a question of...
will-power and a helping hand.

For the manhandling!

I was lucky enough to
meet a sobriety advocate

whose competence was beyond reproach.

He made me the man I am today.

I used to be a dry drunk.

Business meetings,

cocktails,

Various obligations,

an aperitif to raise my spirits,

or a whiskey to relax.

At first everything was fine.

As for the chronic headaches?
A quick trip to the pharmacy.

Before long, there were bottles in my
office, in my car's glove compartment,

in my jacket pockets.

My first blackout was very... very nice.

It was during a vacation at the beach.

It lasted 4 sunsets.

What are you going on about?

- What do you want?
- I want to help you.

My name is Antonin Barrier...
and I'm in Alcoholics Anonymous.

Barrier? How 'bout it?

No one can do this alone.

A close colleague took me with him to AA.

Alcoholics Anonymous.

I would go and listen to
stories about this affliction

and everything made sense.

Today, thanks to the association,

thanks to my recovery...

uhh... recuperation?

No... recovery's right.

Thanks to my recovery,
I've received...

an important position in my company.

Export: African vineyards.

I am adjusted to married life

and I have two children.

They drink milk.

I want both of you to come with me
to rediscover the flavor of sober life.

You're going to need to be brave
enough to ascend to the podium

and...

in defiance of common decency,

in front of everyone,

cry out: "My name is so-and-so

and I'm an alcoholic! "

- Come with me.
- I can go drink over there.

I want to say it right here.

My name is Sonia Saviange
and I'm an alcoholic.

My name is Sonia Saviange
and I'm an alcoholic.

My name is Sonia Saviange
and I'm an alcoholic.

And I'm an alcoholic! I'm an alcoholic!

Tell me everything.

Shots, sleep, water, alcohol.
Shots, sleep, water, alcohol.

Light from dusk until dawn.

Of course, for a little money
you could buy wine from nurses,

but I...

I don't want that anymore.

- No more.
- Do you promise?

I've bailed you out.

I want you to be beautiful.
I want you to be cheerful.

We're going to dance.

- To what?
- The waltz.

How nice it is to dance a waltz,

Since everything's lost in a fog,

May our memories release us,

So we're no longer under their spell!

Sooner or later, the night will pass.

So we might as well go on dancing.

Who cares if time is running out,

We can always find it later.

We'll go on partying,
Eating cotton candy,

And the sky crashing down on heads,

Doesn't make any impression on us at all.

I'm Julien's wife.

My attorney gave me your address.
Julien died a month ago.

We are his sole heirs.

As you know, his fortune was considerable.
He has divided it equally between us.

I assure you that I had
nothing to do with that.

However, I'm pleased that
he at least made up his mind.

A single disbursement is far better than
the monthly payments preordained by law.

In a way, I've come
to bring you good news.

That's not all.

On my own initiative, I prepared
a modest advance for you.

- How much?
- 4000 francs each.

You have only to kindly
sign these receipts for me.

Each of you.

Maître Dutroux-

you already know him, he was involved
in your divorces from Julien-

is anxiously waiting
for another visit from us.

He asked me to
give you these.

He'll also give you the documents
that make you the owners a snack bar

That Julien gave me but it's not my bag.

Maybe you could convert
it into a cafe-theater.

I won't be bothering you much longer.
I'm leaving France in a few hours.

- Where are you going?
- To San Francisco. A dream come true.

I've always wanted to visit America.

Just as I've always wanted
to go to the tropics,

The deserts of plastic neighborhoods,

The melancholy Mississippi river,

California and epic expanses,

The High-Sierras and the atomic bombings.

The Colorado and sex drugs,

and Pacific Ocean politics.

American hysteria!

Hysterical America,

American hysteria!

Bye-bye!

- Happy end! Happy end!
- Happy end! Happy end! Happy end!

Happy end!

So...

I'll sit over there.

We've eaten, drank, stuffed our stomachs.

Now...

- party time!
- Party time.

Pop!

- Would you like some champagne?
- But of course I would!

- Thank you, Madam.
- There!

There's a little left in the bottle.

To your health, Madam.

- To us.
- To us.

- Want some whipped cream?
- Yes, yes!

- A little bit more?
- Mmm hmm.

Let's flock the Christmas tree.

Blow out the candles.

- Happy Birthday!
- Here, here!

It's everywhere.
Go ahead and blow!

Again, again...

No! Oh well.
I'll try my luck again.

Feeling sick?

- All better. It's passed.
- Already? Good.

Here. I want you to be beautiful.

- There.
- Playing my mommy, huh?

Good luck.

- Can I get you something?
- No, no. Let me be.

It's nothing! It will pass. You'll see.

HéIène!

I'm here, I'm here, I'm here!

- No, no. No, no. Don't mind me.
- But you're being silly!

- Don't, don't! Leave me alone!
- Let me help you! Let me!

- Leave me alone!
- Come on. Go ahead and scream!

- It will help.
- No. You can't make it go away. Go away!

Go away.

Just why are you laughing
about screaming anyway?

Show the world what you're made of:

- Scream! Damn it! Scream!
- What's the point!

You're no help at all!

subtitles: depositio