All language subtitles for Le Week-End (2013) BluRay 720p HD

- I think I'll just...
- Okay.

You've got the euros.

I've got the euros, have I?

Don't start.

You never lose anything.

I'll lose you in a minute.

Ladies and gentlemen,

- you can now purchase metro tickets...
- Thank you.

From our buffet between
coaches six and 13,

as well as a Paris pass giving you
access to museums and access to...

Pardon, monsieur.

We also sell discounted...

This is exactly what I needed.
Can't we have lunch immediately?

- Are you starving?
- I'm practically dribbling.

I like a man who knows
how to dribble.

Rue Myrha.

This is Chateau Rouge.
We've come out here.

- Ah, Montmartre.
- Ah.

Merci.

Practically fluent.

- I'm thinking in French now.
- You look French.

Oh, pardon.

- Oh, it was you.
- Oh, yeah.

Spritely.

Once you get in the rhythm,
you've got to keep going.

You're just showing off now.

Surely not.

They've tarted it up a bit.

They have?

All right?

Yep.

I reckon if you stood on
tiptoe with a telescope,

you could see the Hunchback
of Notre Dame's arse.

It's, um.

Beige.

There's a certain
light-brownness about it, yes.

Meg.

Meg, don't do this, Meg.

Last time, when we
were here before,

it was bigger, plus grand, different
colour, différente couleur.

So you recommend we
should redecorate?

I can't do that.

Merde.

- Meg.
- Sorry, sir.

How can you do...
How can you treat... Meg!

Meg!

- I'm really sorry, sir.
- Meg!

- Taxi!
- Don't.

- Taxi!
- We do have a complimentary breakfast

- if you'd like to try...
- Wait! Wait!

- Sir?
- Wait, wait, wait!

We have croissants, sir.

This was your idea.

- How terrible to be in Paris.
- You want us to sleep in a coffin.

- Give me the euros.
- What?

Give me the euros.

Wow.

Oh, Meg. Stupid...

Let's get started.

Meg!

Look, look, look!

Ah. Paris.

- Meg, stop it.
- Merci.

Fuck's sake.

What are we doing? Why are we
doing it? Where are we going?

Why? What? Ooh, what?
We're in Paris!

Yes, exactly. Why don't we
just stop and enjoy it?

Just look!

You'll need this.

Okay.

Merci.

Meg! No! Please!

Bonjour.

No, no, no, no, no.

Non.

Pardon. Monsieur, non, non.

Jesus.

Meg? Meg!

Whatever it costs is fine.

- Hello, sir.
- Hello.

I'm so sorry, madame, but
unless you made a reservation,

we are completely and utterly full.

You see?

They've taken our bags.

- What now? Back on the train?
- Good idea.

Get a taxi to the Gare du Nord.

Sit in silence all the
way back to Moseley

before killing ourselves
in a suicide pact.

Perfect.

I knew this trip would
be a fucking disaster.

- You didn't even want to try.
- I did.

But why did you book
that dreadful place?

I was foolish enough to
want to try and please you.

You actually said you
wanted to go back.

- Not that far.
- Madame?

- Anyway, it was the wrong place.
- It wasn't.

- It was.
- It wasn't.

They'd just redecorated.
That's all.

Madame, there is one possibility.

- There is?
- As a special offer,

we have a prestige suite
available for two nights.

In fact, Tony Blair
once slept there.

Well?

As long as they changed the sheets.

Thank you.

May I have your passports,
and a credit card, of course?

Of course. You've
got the passports.

Passports.

Bang goes the bathroom.

Just close your eyes
when you go in.

My only remaining ambition
was to have a bidet.

Well, I think we've
earned a very good time.

You know I'm anxious about money.

We might live for ages
as a burden to others.

I've taken up Zumba.
I'm redesigning my body.

Why? Who's going to see it?

Meg?

- The keys, sir.
- Oh. Merci.

- Anything else, sir?
- Non, non.

Merci, ca va.

Do you want me to
show you the room?

No, no, it'll be all right. Thank you.
Merci, ca va, ca va.

- Thank you, sir.
- Merci.

Thank you, sir.

See you later, no doubt.
Au revoir.

On, my God!

Oh!

It really is wonderful.

Quite spectacular.

Time for some refreshment,
don't you think?

Right.

Meg, Meg, stop.
We're not that thirsty.

So far this city is a
brilliantly designed machine

for extracting all our money.

What are you saying?

What I'm saying is that

we can't proceed with the bathroom until
you've made a decision about the tiles.

What's that got to do with this?

Well, I thought that now
we're in Paris together,

we could discuss important things.

Like tiles?

It has to be done.

Suppose I want you
to choose the tiles?

Aren't you interested?

I'm not sure I am, actually, no.

Here's to us.

- I love you.
- Lots of love, darling.

Mmm.

- Can I touch you?
- What for?

This last five to ten years

your vagina has become
something of a closed book.

Now we've paid all this money,

I'd rather see the Eiffel Tower
than your partially erect sausage.

See both at the same time.
Wouldn't take a moment.

I was thinking,

we could try taking our lovemaking
into another dimension.

What did you have in mind?

I thought we could pretend
to be other people.

A man who still wants to
make love to his wife.

That's unusual, if not
a far-out perversion.

I might do it for you later.

- Really?
- If you stay awake.

Last time we did this,
we could breathe.

- Have your knees gone yet?
- Not yet.

Nothing's gone yet.

Who'd want to live anywhere else?

Let's do it.

What?

Sell up, get a little
apartment here.

You'll find we'd still
have to earn money.

Haven't we worked for long enough?

What else would we do?

We could be artists.

Nick, we're from Birmingham.

Not by birth.

- Hello.
- Hi, Dad, it's me.

Hi, man!

Dad, are you at home?

No, we're on the continent.

In France, in Paris.

No, we haven't argued yet.

Not at all, no. It's wonderful.

I'm falling in love with
your mother all over again.

What?

- Another one? Oh, fuck!
- Yeah, another one.

- What's going on?
- The place is teeming with them.

I'm going inside.

- It's important.
- Dad? Dad?

- It's a rat's nest.
- Oh...

And I don't know
what to do about it.

- Have you spoken to the estate agent?
- No, not yet.

- You should, that's the first thing to do.
- Think they'll be able to help?

Yeah.

Hmm.

Definitely not.

Come on, Meg, it's an emergency.

How can you let them stay in a house full
of rats with a three-month-old baby?

We just got rid of them.

You know what she's like.

She makes his life even more
intolerable than you make mine.

You make my blood boil
like nobody else!

That's the sign of
a deep connection.

Meg! Meg!

Do not mock or patronise me!

Come on.

He's our son.

- Come on.
- Stop!

Why won't you ever
let me touch you?

It's not love.
It's like being arrested.

I'm a phobic object for you.

Kiss me now, then.

Go on.

God!

That's us in ten years.

- Is that the height of your ambition?
- Huh?

- Ow!
- We're in Paris, give us a kiss.

God! What the fuck are you doing?

Don't you like to be spanked?

No! Don't you know me at all?

Whoa! Ow!

Oh, God, Nick!

Nick, I'm sorry.

- Sorry, are you okay?
- No, no, leave it. Leave it, it's my knee.

Oh, come on, old fella.

Take me to Casualty.
Stop it. Stop it!

Don't be such a girl.

No, really... It really hurts.

Oh, God, Nick, can't
you be a man for once?

- I'll leave you here.
- You do that. Go on.

Jesus, God! Oh!

Oh...

Ah! Oh...

It really hurts!

I'm serious.

It's not a terrible limp!

Here?

You choose lunch, I choose
dinner. Usual arrangement.

How's your knee?

Let's keep walking.

Good boy.

Too modern.

Too empty.

Too empty.

Too touristy.

And they've got an English menu.

- We have lift off.
- You sure?

Good.

- Madame, monsieur, bonjour.
- Bonjour.

Bliss.

- Madame, monsieur, le menu.
- Merci.

Merci.

I can't think when I've ever
had a harder decision to make.

Monsieur?

Madame.

Vivant.

Rosé.

It's the nicest thing I've
ever put in my mouth.

Listen.

Thanks for bringing me.

Try.

Mmm!

Oh, God.

I was sceptical. But I'm
so glad we did this.

Why sceptical?

You've been attacking
me a lot, lately.

Do you know why?

DO you?

You're making that noise.

Am I?

Have I always done it?

Like an old horse at the trough.

Enjoyment, some people call it.

Lack of inhibition, freedom.

Are you free?

I'd love not to give a fuck.

This is it, isn't it, my love?

This is where I want to be forever.

You always did edit out
the arguments and misery.

You can't not love and
hate the same person.

Usually within the space of
five minutes, in my experience.

But you like things steady.

Too steady.

Why have you got your
constipated face on?

The fact of the matter...

Actually...

What's happened...

About a month ago, the college
insisted I take early retirement.

Oh, Nick.

Oh, fuck.

One of the students made
an official complaint.

What did you say?

I said, "if you spent as much time on
your studies as you do on your hair,

"you might have a chance of
escaping your background."

She complained to the dean.

Apparently her hair is her history,

her identity.

And something else, I forget what.

Ah, oui.

Yes, yes, we're finished.

Why didn't you tell me before?

I wanted it to be a surprise.

I couldn't think about it.

- It's just here.
- I hope it's dirty.

I could do with cheering up.

Definitely earthy.

Is this it?

Are you expecting me to die?

Unfortunately, I'm expecting
you to live forever.

Baudelaire, Soutine,
Sartre, Beckett...

Your heroes.

They're all here.

But it's not as though they're
actually here, is it?

Don't panic.

It's only dust and bones.

That's the problem.

As Beckett says,

"Do we mean love when we say love?"

What else do we mean?
That's stupid.

I think he means there's more to
love than loving or being loved.

Come on, where's Sartre?
This is fun!

I was brilliant at school.

Bit of a star at university.

I have to say, I'm amazed by how
mediocre I've turned out to be.

You can draw, you're musical.

You can explain Wittgenstein
to the illiterate.

You contrived to chuck them
away, your numerous talents.

I did? Why would I do that?

Masochism?

It's not too late for you
to find another direction.

Why don't you think about it?

Do you think so?

People don't change.

They do.

They can get worse!

Why have you cheered up so much?

What is wrong with you?

Come on.

Can you see anything there?

- Have I got skin cancer?
- Yes.

I knew it.

You also mentioned early onset
Alzheimer's and stomach cancer.

That's right.

And a lazy eye.

What else?

You'll be sorry that you
never loved me enough.

Mmm.

♪ Kidding you

♪ You used to laugh about

♪ Everybody that was hanging out

♪ Now you don't talk so loud

♪ And now you don't seem so proud

♪ About having to be scrounging

♪ Your next meal

♪ How does it feel?

♪ How does it feel?

♪ To be without a home

♪ Like a complete unknown ♪

I've got the key.

Hold on. Hold on.
Where are my keys?

We're not at home. Even
you might have noticed.

I get anxious if I don't
know where they are.

I help you find things all the time,
even when it's futile and stupid.

And don't use my toothbrush.
You'll give me gum disease.

- That's not even yours.
- It bloody is!

- The blue one.
- Oh, yes.

- Blue toothbrushes.
- It's a panda welcome.

The welcoming committee.

Why's that panda staring at me?

- I'm worried.
- Bonjour, monsieur. Bonjour.

Catch me!

Pardon.

Bonsoir.

Bonsoir.

They'll take our last penny.

If it's the end of the world,
I want to go down gulping oysters.

Come on.

I love it when you're in this mood!

- Do you think you're bi-polar?
- Tri-polar, possibly.

Do you think that

part of the reason you invited
Jack and Angie back into the house

was because you can't
bear being alone with me?

I can't bear to be apart from you.

Well, you are
pathetically dependent.

Why don't you want to
help young people?

Shut up.

Idiot!

You're a fucking idiot, sometimes.

I want a new start.

Sorry?

I wanted to tell you.

I've gone as far as I
want to at the school.

I'm fed up teaching Biology GCSE.

I don't want to run the department.

That's mad. What would
you do instead?

I don't know.

I want to learn Italian,
play the piano,

dance the tango.

Is it such a terrible idea?

Once the kids have gone...

What's left of us?

You've picked our
anniversary to dump me?

We must at least be
able to talk about it.

Right?

Of course.

Come on, love.

Let's enjoy our dinner.

Come on. Let's talk
about the bathroom.

I've got some good ideas.

Nick?

The least you can do is
buy me a last supper.

My pleasure.

Go outside and smoke.

- I don't smoke.
- And wait.

Get your coat.

And get my coat too.

That's all you have to do.

Right.

Fucking hell.

Right.

Excusez-moi. My coat, please.

Of course.

Is everything okay for you, madam?

- Yes, great, thanks.
- Thank you.

Ah, excusez-moi.

Pardon.

Nick!

Nick! Over here!

For Christ's sake,
what are you doing?

Get this thing.
They've plastic on it.

Come on!

Come on, give it a
really good pull!

Yes!

Ah!

God! Come on.

Rock and fucking roll!

Don't tell the kids.

Merci.

Come on. Come on.

- Let's do it all again.
- What do you mean?

Try me again and I promise
it'll be more fun this time.

Get a room!

Hey, Nick Burrows!

It is. Nick Burrows?

No. Is that really you, under all
that terribly un-English passion?

My God! Good God, hello there!

Yes, hi, how are you? How the damn
devil in the entire world are you?

Tell me everything!

- Wow!
- Great. Good.

Um... Not bad.

- Well, then, this is my wife, Meg.
- Hello.

- Meg, Morgan. Morgan, Meg.
- Your wife?

I've never seen a man
kiss his wife like that.

Well, look at her. She's so...
She's so beautiful.

May I... I gotta try a little of...
A little of that. Hello, Meg.

Let's see. Wow, that's
just delightful!

Well, what are the two of
you up to around here?

The weekend, you know, in Paris.

- Oh, really?
- For old times' sake.

What about you? I thought
you lived in New York.

Yeah. I know, I thought I did too.

But I'm back here and I've got a
brand new wife, as a matter of fact.

I'm scribbling and, you know,
prostituting myself as usual.

Economics, politics,
the whole collapse.

I understand it, apparently.
Who am I to disagree?

Hey, listen...

We're having a little
thing tomorrow.

I'd love it if the two
of you could come along.

- I don't know.
- I think we're free.

You are? That's great. May I?

May I write a little something?

Seriously, Nick, this
must be synchronicity.

We gotta catch up on so many
things. Thank you, Meg.

Mmm. There's so much to talk about.

There is?

- Thanks.
- Eight o'clock.

You can be unfashionably on
time for once in your life.

Wow!

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, oh, my God!

Nick... Burrows!

Rue de Rivoli. Wow!

We were at Cambridge together.

Haven't you got his
book by the bed?

Possibly.

You read it twice and said it was a
bad day for the English language.

It was very well received.
It was a sensation.

He was in the year below me.

I introduced him to everybody.

What happened?

Life happened.

That's mine.

- Give it to me!
- No.

You're gonna get gum disease!

Yeah, I'll give you gum disease.

- Ow!
- Give it to me!

Oh, sorry.

Blood.

Show me your breasts.

Are you sleeping?

Awaiting your noises.

What are you thinking?

Should I have had the creme brulée
instead of the poires belle Hélene?

It'll be my dying thought.

- Would it be okay...
- Mmm?

For me to briefly mount you...

Mmm-hmm.

And soon after ejaculate
a miniscule amount?

I'm dropping off.

Nick?

Nick?

Nick?

What is it? What's happened?

I thought you'd gone.

Wasn't that what you wanted?

Hold me.

I've got you, darling.
I've got you.

- I thought you'd gone.
- It's all right, it's all right.

I've got you. I've got you.

I never read short stories
in the papers at home.

It's good.

- Bonjour.
- Bonjour, madame.

Over here?

You know, Morgan seems
to really like you.

He wasn't joking. He really
does want to see you.

Why?

What have I got that he
could possibly want?

Me, for a start.

- Oh.
- Couldn't he help you?

- I like your collage.
- You do?

Yeah, it looks great.

- You look great.
- Thanks.

You've always had
elegance and grace.

You've always had class.

Thank you!

Well?

Well... Thanks.

- What about me?
- What about you, what?

Have I got class?

What?

I want to do the ultimate
Cambridge novel.

God!

Beginning in the '70s.

Orgies, drugs, work, kids,

divorce,

multiple sclerosis,

assisted death...

I'd rather stick
pins in my breasts.

Haven't you got any
less tired ideas?

Don't put me down.

Mistress Realism, you used
to call me. You liked that.

Up to a point.

What are you doing?

Come on. Take what you want.

You can cut out the pictures.

I'll pay.

Be kind, don't look.

Every time I take off my knickers,
I think there's going to be an eclipse.

I love to look at you.

Slightly chubby in places
now. Voluptuous.

I don't want to be fucking
chubby in places. Any places.

I thought you'd like
to be appreciated.

Well, I am.

The other day, I'll have
you know, a young man,

not entirely retarded,

tried to pick me up in Waterstones.

Doesn't surprise me. You're hot.

Thank you.

Hot but cold.

Our generation was
into weird living:

Communes,

vegetarianism,

lesbianism.

Nothing straight where possible.

But I'm glad we got married. That's why
I wanted to celebrate this weekend.

It's the commitment...

The sacrifice of other
pleasures that makes it work.

You're terrified.

- Of what?
- Being left alone.

You follow me round the house like
a child with a popped balloon.

You really are becoming more
self-obsessed, Nick. It's getting worse.

Some people brag about
their ability to be alone.

But I've started to feel a sort
of physical dread of desertion.

Oh, come on!

Why doesn't anybody
want my company?

Do you like the shoes?

Do I please you, monsieur?

Tell me who you bought
those shoes for.

What do you mean? You know who.

Who, for me?

For you? For me, you idiot.

I've decided to give
up everything I like.

- Why?
- It's a discipline,

the only advantage of masochism.

I want to stop desiring
things which are impossible.

You won't like this, then.

What?

What?

Get down.

Look.

Can you see?

Let me smell you.

Please... Just a sniff.

You're a naughty dog.

Get ready while I put my dress on.

Haven't got any...
Anything to get ready in.

Stay here, then, and
write your masterpiece.

Just leave it, like Jack does.

I wouldn't rely on him
in matters of the head.

You envied him.

You made sure he had
more of you than I did.

He was the child. Now you
want him back in the house.

You can't let anyone go.

I haven't seen this
since I read Gramsci

and contemplated kidnapping
a captain of industry.

This is the last time I save you.

What?

On the room, madame?

Always on the room.
It's my new mantra.

"On the room."

Everything on the room.

I think I'm gonna ask Morgan to help you
get your philosophy book published.

I'm not ready to start that.

What's so amusing?

You are always about to write a book
or about to decorate the bathroom

or about to tell me something which
will alter our lives forever.

But you know what you are?

A potential Nobel laureate?

You are the postman
who never knocks.

And you know why that is?

Please, darling, lighten
my burden of ignorance.

I'm not sure you've got any balls.

When we met, you were part
of the feminist Taliban

and you insisted I contact
my feminine side.

Have I not contacted
it sufficiently?

Contacted it?

You practically married it.

Perhaps one day I'll
be as tall and manly

and as nifty with
Microsoft Word as Melik.

Melik.

The computer guy? Melik?

Yes, Melik.

Well? Are you going to admit it?

Admit what?

Your lover.

Yes?

That kid?

That bald, sweaty nerd
in a badly-fitting T-shirt?

Are you having a nervous breakdown?

Admit it.

How many times do you expect me to
believe your bloody laptop can go wrong?

Admit it!

You're ill!

I saw how you were with him.
Tell me the truth.

You're an idiot. I've
had enough of you.

Meg, tell me the truth.

Have I ever lied to you? Ever?

What on earth was I thinking of,

depriving myself of love,
of sex, of male company,

to keep this pathetic thing going?

I thought you were
interested in someone else.

- It's me I want more of!
- Why? What for?

- I want to sell the house.
- What?

I'm to be thrown out
of my own home?

- Get a flat.
- I don't have an income.

Divorce happens to everyone now.

You went with a student!

Fifteen years ago. How could
you bring that up now?

Just as Jack was having all
those problems at school,

all you said was, "He'll be fine."
I was out of my mind with worry.

You couldn't believe
that any child of yours

could possibly have
anything wrong with him.

I was isolated. You
preferred the boys to me.

Do you blame me?

Meg. Meg...

If we go in there, our lives
will never be the same again.

Great! Let's hurry,
let's open the door.

In fact, why don't you stay out here
whingeing and complaining as usual?

I actually want to go to a party.

Come on, Meg!

Meg, please.

Fucking apologise!

Why should I?

You dressed up for him. You took him tea.
You hung around wearing that scent.

I love you, Meg.

Take that seriously.

Love dies.

Only if you kill it.

- Fool, you really are.
- Call me paranoid.

You are, you must be. Melik!

Cold, you. You're frozen inside.

Frankly, you'd freeze a penguin.

- Ha, ha. That's not fuckin' funny.
- You're weak.

You won't even get through this
evening without a nervous breakdown.

- Welcome!
- Ah!

Thank goodness, you made it.
That's so wonderful.

- Ah! There we are.
- Hi.

Not far to go. Good evening.

Welcome. Here, would you
like some champagne?

- Thank you.
- Please. Come on in, come on in.

I was worried you guys
weren't gonna make it.

I almost had a thrombo.
Come on, come on.

There are some great
people in here,

and they're dying to meet you.
I've been talking you up.

Thank you, Stéphane.

I've been thinking
about you all day.

You have?

What gorgeous hell is this?

- Merci.
- Merci.

Go on, go in.

They're French. I'm sure
their lives are awful too.

Don't leave me on my own.

Isn't that what you want?

There we are.

Thought I'd lost you. Come on in.

I didn't see... Oh, look at that.
Come on in, I'll introduce you.

I didn't see that black lacy...
I wish I had my sketch pad.

May I introduce you to all
these talkative types?

Hey, this is, uh, Nick, everybody.

Well, here's Robert and Dominique
Ertel, my long-suffering publishers.

They do all my stuff
here in France.

This is my great old friend,
Nick Burrows, and his wife, Meg.

They're from London.
He's a professor of philosophy.

Meg, I'm so sorry, I didn't ask you.
Tell me what you do.

- Writer?
- I'm a teacher.

That's so interesting.
I wanna hear all about that.

Jean-Pierre. May I introduce
our expert on Proust?

- He's exaggerating.
- Not true.

He's so good. And you're
currently translating Dickens.

Yeah. Bleak House.

- Oh!
- Bleak House.

Oh, yeah. Victoire Lachapelle,
the novelist, I'm sure you know,

Américain, very successful...

And Harry Rose, the sculptor,

who's got a very interesting
show of drawings.

- Where is that gallery?
- Think and Do Gallery, St Honoré.

I saw it, it's fantastic.
I highly recommend it.

- Christophe Aragues.
- Ara-gueth.

Ara-gueth.

He's a professor of
economics at the Sorbonne.

And Valentin Lefevre, who's
an economist at Le Monde.

Financial Times.

The Financial Times. Perhaps
you've run into his stuff.

And the Mona Lisa over there,
can you see, is my wife Eve.

Hello, my darling.
Nick Burrows and Meg.

Thank you.

So there you go.
Hey, come with me, Nick.

Can I steal your sweet
husband away for a sec?

- Take him, do.
- What are you gonna say?

Yeah, right.

There you go. Okay.

There you go.

There you go, Nick.

Oh, if I may.

Thanks. Can't wait to read it.

Oh, well, you know, it's actually
just a rehash of my old articles.

But, you know, they put it into this
book and it took off for some reason.

I got lucky, I guess.
It could happen to anybody.

- It didn't happen to me.
- Well, you're too serious.

You know, have you ever even said
anything slight in your whole life?

I don't think so, not in the time
that I knew you. Here have a...

Please have a seat.

Over the years that I've sat in
desks like this and, you know,

in those times when I've tried to
convince myself I had some kind of brain

or just a little bit of
rigour and integrity,

you know what I've thought
so often to myself?

"What would Nick Burrows do now?

"What would Nick say now?"

- You have?
- Yes.

Thank you so much. Would
you like something to eat?

- No, merci.
- Are you sure? Thank you.

Thank you. Is it, Ju...

- Julie.
- Julie?

Thank you, Julie.

Eve.

She's gonna eat me alive.

You know, I'm not...
I'm not a total idiot.

But...

Nick, I was so depressed and I was
just suffocating and I was dying.

I was seeing every psychiatrist
on the Upper West Side.

Until I finally found one who, of course,
told me what I wanted to hear

and he released me

and I slipped away from
my wife one morning

without even taking my toothbrush.

It was totally insane.
And I wound up here.

But then, I decided to do the
whole thing all over again.

Love, marriage and kids.

And so now here I am...

Mmm.

Enjoying...

Keeping the Mona Lisa fascinated.

And she adores me.

Can't see through me... Yet.

But we know she will.

I mean, she will.

So am I brave or am I foolish?

Why would you put yourself
through all that again?

Because I'm vain.

Because I'm just ridiculously vain.

I wanna be adored and waited for

and listened to.

Don't you?

I don't share your delusion.

What do you mean, delusion?
How am I deluded?

That by giving up on
someone, you're free.

No, no, no.

No, no. Mmm.

Mmm!

Do you know what I just flashed on?

Do you remember those
mornings at dawn

that we would get up to sell those
newspapers in front of the factory gates?

I think we sold about four of them before
the working-class heroes chased us away.

I'll bet those factories
aren't even there any more.

How about the Brecht play,

that you put on at the ADC
with the Pink Floyd music?

Very brilliant. Very brilliant.

Were those the days?

Oh!

Wow!

I mean, we grew up so safe
and easy, that's the truth.

You know, it's been just a
breeze for guys like us.

- It has?
- Well, look at you, you know.

Sitting comfortably in
some 15th-century room,

with your spectacularly
striking, beautiful wife.

A weekend cottage ¡n the Cotswolds,
I'll bet, and a Labrador,

the royalties from all your books and
a big pension at the end of all of it.

Am I getting my serve
in the ballpark?

And you've got smart, bearded friends
with whom you can discuss politics

and philosophy while you all sing
along to Joni Mitchell records?

You see me more clearly
than I see myself.

I can... You know,
I can do a little thing.

You know...

I think we've taken too
much out of the world.

We were the spark. The '60s
and '70s lit the fuse, baby.

Really?

Yeah. Feminism, racial equality,
human rights, all that stuff.

Yeah, I wanna ignite some
kind of blaze, you know.

I wanna go into the banlieues with
some good people and some money

and, you know, have discussions,
political, literary, but shake things up.

Do you wanna come with me?

Me?

I could put you down for, you know, 2K.
Neither of us'll miss that kind of money.

Make it four.

Make it 4K, I'll put a
cheque in the post tomorrow.

Nick Burrows.

I knew you'd get it.

Oh, I knew it.

Here's to the future.

- Are you an artist?
- I wish.

Well, you... You
look like an artist.

Perhaps it's your hair.

So, what are you doing here?

Yes, that's a good question.

No, I mean, what are you
doing here in Paris?

Oh, it's our wedding anniversary.

Really? Wow, how long?

- Thirty years.
- That's amazing.

Yes, it is, isn't it?

Our children have
left home. Nearly.

So now, we're alone together.

And now you will have
time just for each other.

Mmm.

I know it's awful.

I can't wait to be with him
every minute of the day.

He knows everything.
I will never be bored by him.

Suppose he's bored by you?

Really? You think?

I don't believe in that.

"The one."

There are many ones.
That's the problem.

People start to murder you.
You have to be ruthless.

My husband claimed
I was unfaithful.

And what did you say?

I thought,

"What a waste.

"To be accused of being a
whore and to be so innocent."

I'm sorry.

When's the baby due?

Oh, it's for April.

Sorry.

Who are you?

Nick. I'm Nick.

Do you like that music?

Uh... I like all music.

I give it a go.

Good for you.

Do you want a drink?

Aren't you, um, enjoying the party?

I'm not sure enjoyment's
really my thing.

I don't quite fit in.

Even on my own, I don't fit in,
let alone with anyone else.

- You live here?
- Oh, I'm just here for the weekend.

I live in New York.

- Crikey.
- Yeah, Morgan's my dad.

Oh, right.

How's that? Not too bad?

Does he talk in a loud
voice all the time?

Even his emails are loud.

Hi.

- Hi.
- Can I join you?

Please do.

- It's high up, yes?
- Yeah.

It is.

Do you know Paris well?

No. No, not well.

So we have, over there, the Louvre,

la Gare d'Orsay and the Tour
Montparnasse over there.

- Mmm-hmm.
- Les Invalides.

- L'Assemblée nationale.
- Oh, yes.

L'Obelisk.

- You see l'Obelisk?
- It's pretty.

I mean, a weekend in Paris.
What a drag!

The more out of it
I am, the better.

You've obviously never
been to Birmingham.

I'd make the most of this
city, if I were you.

- That's what my dad says.
- He does?

He and I don't really

share that many interests.

That's not unusual.

I mean, he likes the
idea of me being around.

He sends me air tickets,

but he really freaks out if we're
ever stuck in the same room together.

He feels bad, guilty, I suppose.

He hates being hated.

What about your mum?

She's okay.

She tried to, you
know, kill herself.

Oh, fuck!

Yeah, she, like,

threw herself out of a window.

Oh, my God!

Yeah, but she's okay.

She's over that now.

What are you thinking?

Sorry?

What are you thinking
at this moment?

The, um, situation
of a woman like me.

Boredom, dissatisfaction...

Fury.

And the clock ticking by.

What a great thing.

What?

To be so attuned to
your own unhappiness.

Look...

You see La... La Rue de Rivoli?

Around the corner,
there is a little bar

where we could have a
drink, if you like.

When?

Now, if you like.

What do you do?

- I'm a teacher.
- A teacher?

Yes, really.

Jesus!

Is that a fucking
monkey I see before me?

Do you know what my
problem has been?

I am one of those
unfortunate people

who is congenitally
faithful to his wife.

Unlike the rest of the population, I
don't want to go to bed with strangers.

I only like her.

For me, there's never been sex
without an attempt at love.

Uh-huh?

Love is the only interesting thing.

It's far, far more
difficult to do than sex.

What is wrong with me?

What's he telling you?

Um, to be honest, it's
difficult to make sense of it.

They want us to eat.

Having a good time?

A man asked me to have
a drink with him.

Did he?

What did you say?

I said yes.

When?

Later tonight.

Don't do that.
Please don't do that.

I want to go.

Um... Here, you should take these.

You might need them.

We are all here to celebrate
the brilliance of this.

Ah!

Bravo!

Bravo! Bravo!

No...

Yeah, which he wrote while
working, while running our lives,

attending to me,

buying art and learning Russian.

Yeah, that's true.

Yeah, he has the energy
of 100 teenagers.

Yes.

But wait. He's dark. He's moody.

Moody?

Yes.

He talks all the time,
all through breakfast.

In fact, he talks even
when he's on the toilet.

I'm stunned. That's dessert talk.

Yeah, he has more exes,
I think, than Pére-Lachaise.

But I... I agreed to take him on.

Mmm, pourquoi? Pourquoi?

Idiocy.

Idiocy? Idiocy?

No, love.

Yes, love.

To you, my love.

To Morgan.

Cheers. Santé.

- Santé. Cheers.
- Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you, sweet. Let me say it quick.
Let me get this over with.

Thank you. What have I done to deserve
such love, and from my wife of all people?

Oh, my golly!

Well, just very quickly,
thank you all for coming.

Those books, by the way, they're
gonna be in a box in the hall.

So on your way out, take five
or ten, as many as you want.

Some are even unsigned. I think
that makes them more valuable.

But may I take this opportunity not to say
anything more about that lousy little book,

which already is, frankly,
wildly out of date,

but about this fella right here?

Nick Burrows, who I found yesterday,
as you do so often with old friends,

kissing a woman
passionately in the street.

He later claimed that
that woman was his wife.

But, no, you know.

I'm thinking back right now, uh, on a
time when you and I were skulking around

and loitering in
gloomy Cambridge pubs,

presuming to figure out
how to fix the world.

I made him take me
on as his disciple

and stalked him at meetings
and followed him around

to these little bring-your-own-bottle
parties in bedsits

and grubby little restaurants
with names like Eros

and The Whim.

He started to shame me
into reading real things.

You made me concentrate for more
than five minutes at a time.

And he made me say true things

for the first time in my short and
well-upholstered Yankee life.

My gosh.

I thank you publicly for
keeping the torch burning,

as you have done so
magnificently over these years.

Ladies and gents, may
we raise a glass

to my friend Nick Burrows.

Thank you, Nick.

To Nick Burrows.

Santé.

Thank you, my friend.

Fuck.

Shit... Um...

Fucking hell.

Thank you for that, Morgan.

I'm grateful for what you said.

Um...

I'm surprised, too, and taken
aback, quite far back.

But I was reminded of something.

Of myself.

Of the self

I hide in myself.

I'm still an anarchist
of the left, I suppose.

I'm still a fool for the truth.

Always my weak point.

So I suppose I should,
on that basis, point out

that the university where I teach
is not a proper university,

but it's an ex-polytechnic, which is now
a factory on the outskirts of Birmingham,

set up to produce only idiocy.

I should point out that
I have just been sacked

for apparently speaking inappropriately
to a female black student.

My older son is a pot-head with rats
in the house that we bought for him

with the last of our savings.

His chosen profession is to watch
television in the afternoons.

I'm broke.

Every bone and muscle in
my body screams with agony

when I attempt to tie my shoelaces.

I'm near shitting myself with fear
and anxiety every moment of the day.

Plus the fact my wife is well aware

that I only cling to her like a
drowning man to a shelf of melting ice

because no one else would touch me.

She's planning, in fact, to give
me the slip later this evening

in order to be with another man.
Well, good for her.

And good for him, too.

So think of me as falling
out of a window...

Forever.

For I am truly fucked.

Oh, man, that was awesome.

Is that it? Did I
leave anything out?

Can I say something, please?

Go ahead, please.

I was on the balcony just
now talking to Jean-Pierre.

I remembered something
from the other day,

when I was with a friend.

And my phone rang.

And, um.

I spoke with the person.

And at the end of
the call, she said,

"Who was that?

"Was it your secret lover?

"You sounded so pleased
to hear from them,

"and you kept laughing."

I was astonished. I said,

"What do you mean?

"It was my husband."

it was my husband.

Nick?

Are you guys... Oh, are you...

Are you heading out?

That was genius. Genius, as always.

Gee, I wish you didn't
have to rush away.

I'm so sorry if I...
Did I say something possibly...

How long are you guys
gonna be here for?

Because I know you said the weekend,
but I don't know specifically.

Do you still have my number?

Did you transfer, uh...

'Cause you can text me.
We don't even have to speak.

I love you!

You fucking idiot.

You genius.

How could you do that?

Talent.

I nearly...

Puked.

Thank you.

You know what?

The other day at that
dinner at Ellie's,

you did this thing.

You came over and you kissed
me on the side of the head.

Just casually.

But I thought it was
the loveliest thing.

Thanks.

Now.

Again, do it again.

Time to pack, I guess.

French stairs, my abiding memory.

You can get the lift.

- What's going on?
- Madame, I'm sorry.

We have instructions to refuse
you entry to this room.

- You've been checked out.
- Why? It's not midday.

You are forbidden to touch anything
in here. Again, I apologise.

Please, give me that hat, ma'am.
Come on, give it to me.

- It's an outrage! It's ridiculous!
- Give it to me. Come on.

- Ha ha!
- Wahey!

Come on!

Quickly!

Pardon.

Pardon, monsieur. Pardon, pardon.

Excusez-moi.

Merci, merci.

Pardon.

Pardon, monsieur.

Excusez-moi, pardon, pardon.

Excusez-moi. Merci.

Ah, Mr and Mrs Burrows.

Please accept my deepest
apology for our little difficulty.

But I'm sure we can sort
everything out very quickly.

- Will you please follow me?
- Yeah.

Of course, we have your
passports in our safe.

But why?

The credit card you gave
us is beyond its limit.

See... Here's the bill.

Right.

Mmm-hmm.

Oh, yes, that's, um...

Yes, that is quite a lot of money.

Yeah. There is also the matter,
I fear, of the damage to the room.

- There is?
- Yes.

Plus the tax, of course.

- It looks like we got carried away.
- Oh?

- It was worth it.
- Yeah.

Mr Burrows, you have another carol?

Only my bus pass, I'm afraid.

And how do you intend to pay?

With our lives?

Unfortunately, it's no longer
a matter of laughing, madam.

In fact, it's a very
serious matter indeed.

- A very serious matter.
- Yeah.

I'm not listening to
any more of this.

That's me bust.

- What are you doing?
- Texting Morgan.

Why?

He's our only hope, isn't he?

Oh, shit.

- Hi, Jack.
- Hey, Dad. Having a lovely time?

- We're having a fine time.
- Making friends with many frogs?

No, we haven't met any
French people yet, no.

Have you come to a decision?

Well, yes and no.

Your mother says it
wouldn't be a good idea

for you to move back in with us.

You'll be better off
staying with a mate.

Yeah.

Yeah, we're enjoying
being on our own now.

Well, we hope to be back soon.

- But you do realise...
- No, sorry.

Sorry.

Hello? Hello?

- Are you there? Can you hear me?
- Hello?

- Hello? Hello?
- Dad?

We got cut off.

Yes!

What?

I said you had the euros.

- Voilà, monsieur.
- Merci.

We can't do a runner from this
place, we'd get beaten to death.

It's been the best time.

The best.

Oh!

Oh, my God, are you kidding?
My pleasure!

What... What's happening?

Well, we've had...
A couple of little problems.

- Really? Like what?
- Well...

You guys have just been having
like a great, great time.

We certainly have.

I guess you have.

I think you'd better stay at my
place till you sort yourself out,

which could take a while.

- Thanks, that's kind.
- Yes, yes, my pleasure.

I'll get some food and we'll
have a great evening in.

Do you like that idea?
We'll play music and dance.

Yeah. Would you like to
sing, by any chance?

- I'd love to sing.
- I'd love to hear you sing.