All language subtitles for Chris Marker - Memóires pour Simone.en

Places of memory.

The corner of the Inkermann Boulevard
and Borgh�se Street in Neuilly, 1936.

A little girl named
Simone Kaminker,

plays throwing her beret in the air
and, for those who knew her

at that time, two words could
describe her: wittiness and courage.

The wittiness, one can imagine, but for
the courage, how could they guess?

Was it the way of throwing her
brown beret higher and higher,

as if to prevent it from falling down?

Memory of places.

A projection room in the big house
in Auteuil, in the Eure department.

Reels of film, video tapes,
photos, closets

What we're offering you here,
isn't Simone's lifestory,

she told it better than
anyone in �Nostalgia�.

It's not the story of her career,
excellent TV programs dealt with it.

It is a story of her memory closet.

Small bits of memory in a jumble,

a journey through the
images she kept.

� This is...

Oh, this is a rose!

This is Jim!
He was classy.

I am Lady Vamos.

You can't remember because
you're too young. �

The actors are strange animals,
it's well known since Moli�re.

Who would think Simone
was physically incapable

of turning a projector on.

She describes it in a funny
way in �Nostalgia�

the ceremony of changing the reels

that she handles here with
ease of a matador.

There's even a scoop: Simone Signoret
driving a car,

a phenomenon which never
occurred either before or after.

� It's because a man is not himself
in front of the camera.

It's the Other.

A simple woman is the one
who enters your body.

I mean, you don't enter someone,

but someone enters you.

Therefore, as one isn�t oneself
anymore, one can be...

one can be a loose woman, a
laboratory assistant, a nun...

one becomes the Other. �

Ok, the doubling, the paradox,
we've heard about it.

Simone practices the ultimate paradox of
constantly putting something of herself

into the "Other" she is
proud to be

and of being able to reconcile,
during the film,

with the world of technology
she loathed.

� You don't seem to be
interested in computers.

I hate them. First, I don�t
understand how they work.

I hate them more than anything.
It's the opposite of what's human.

Do you refuse the technology
or the system?

The system as a whole,
I'm nostalgic, I'm old,

very old-fashioned. There are some
things in which I'm a bit advanced

but the computers... sorry but
they're horribly boring. �

However, when she left us on
one September day in 1985,

we could read on a Minitel computer
the most humane testimonies

but the less read ones.

Telematics service "Lib�"
had opened a section

"Your Simone Signoret".

Hundreds of strangers started
typing on their keyboards.

You could read � Good riddance,
she was a communist

and a drunk�.
Double anachronism.

They were more precise elsewhere.

And now, a flashback.

In "The Devil's Envoys",
Arletty's magic

was slowing and stopping the time.

On the TV, Anne Sinclair
made Simone experience

a similar miracle.

� How funny! You are laughing and you
don't know why you're laughing! �

� Well now, I'll tell you, you're making
one of my lifedreams come true

because, every time I watched that film
on the TV, I was telling my family:

"Look, there I am, look at me!", but
before you know it, it was too late.

And now, you're giving me
a still image, it's really...

it's a big luxury. - I hope
my family is watching!

... and will finally be able to
enjoy this unforgettable shot...

... in "The Devil's Envoys". �

�Nostalgia�, page 65 :

� It's very difficult to play
a small role on the screen.

For example, you're playing "a cousin".
You can read on the invitation

"Role: cousin. Scene: wedding
dinner and the opening of the will."

From the moment your invitation arrives,
you're dreaming about this cousin you're

supposed to play for a day
or two of your own life,

knowing nothing about her:

Is she a poor or a
glamorous cousin?

Is she the bride's cousin or the
bridegroom's one - in which case,

maybe, she's in love with him,
or is she a greedy cousin

who will be very disappointed
once the will is opened?

When you arrive at the studio,
the makeup artist doesn't have time

for you because he's too busy with
his star. He gives a few instructions

to his either very young or very old
assistant, who�s casually putting

makeup on your face while he is
re-shaping carefully the

face of a lady or a gentleman you
don't immediately recognize.

As you have a terrible stage fright,
you remain silent.

They talk about the day before,
about the outdoor scenes they

had shot and about the cow and
how funny it was when it

entered the frame.

More actors arrive, they're all part
of the family and they know

very well whose father or lover
they play and then comes

yesterday's scene with that
irresistible cow again while

you're wondering whose arms you�re
supposed to throw yourself into very soon.

Someone that you're not familiar with,
someone you haven't had a meal with in

the canteen, who doesn't know your
name and who wondered in the makeup

if you were hired to play
a wedding decorator or the

cousin until the chief makeup artist
announces, looking

at his schedule :
"Eh... the cousin". �

� The person appearing
before the Town hall is

Mlle H�l�ne Gurne, born in Cap on 21st
of September 1922, unemployed,

the daughter of Captain Gurne...

Go on, go on, please! �

� There's the madam.

L�on, something terrible has just
happened to me!

Have a drink, my darling, it's a divine port!

I was attacked in the street, L�on.
I'm still shaking.

I... I think I'll faint.

Come now, you can faint later!
First tell me what happened!

- Look, L�on, they stole my ring.
- The one I gave you?

- I never wear any other!
- Well, that's more serious.

And how did you notice? I bet
you left it on the sink!

No, L�on, they attacked me with a
machine gun just as I was leaving

home to meet you. A man...
a man bumped into me...

You screamed, I hope?

But it was too late, he was already gone!
Oh, L�on, if you'd seen that look...

- And?
- Well, that's it.

- And... the machine gun?
- He surely had one!

- And the ring? - The ring
wasn't there anymore... �

The section of the words which still don�t
know that they will become key words.

� Even when you're smiling,
there�s something in your look

that doesn't decieve... a certain
kind of nostalgia... �

Or how, after her first book was
published, our heroine inspired

the titles of almost all
French newspapers.

Everybody knows that at the moment
Simone published her book,

nostalgia became a special category
in American catalogues.

Some reels from the closet in Auteuil
could fit into that category.

Those are small 16 mm films that
Montand shot in Saint-Paul de Vence.

Another scoop: Montand as a cameraman
and a valuable document for

the archives where you can see how
Catherine All�gret, instructed by

the story of "the cousin", prepared
herself very early for her first role.

� Can you pass me the towel
from the suitcase...? �

The shooting of �The sleeping car�,
as they say in the family, shows

the sweet madness of that time.
All the friends were there,

and, to paraphrase Simone who
was constantly making up

verbs like "to bitter", �to myth�,
�to nostalgise",

the next small sketch
could be named:

How to perplex a journalist.

� - Do you understand what
we're talking about? -Yes"

Do you have something to say
about your character?

In the beginning my character was
the main one and... it was so

terrible they had to cut the scenes
with just one or two scenes left..."

- I cut them because...
- No, I made you cut them...

No, that's not what he wanted to say.

He said he wanted to have his scenes
cut, because if we hadn't cut

his scenes, he couldn't have
done his ones. If he couldn't

have done his ones, I couldn't have done...

He wanted to have them cut because you
didn�t like... what, to play with me? �

That leads us to another nostalgic
record, but this time

shot in hi-tech colour:
the pool in Auteuil that hosted

all the friends of the family, from
Jacques Pr�vert to

Bernadette Pluvier, with Jos� Arthur
playing Esther Williams.

It's pretty touching to see all those
great film professionals

doing exactly the same thing as others
while recording themselves.

For the regulars of Auteuil, the big
house in Normandie was the

family home they returned to at the
moments of great happiness

as well as great misfortune,
like in the books.

For Jacques Becker, it was,
for some time, his home.

But he didn't see "Golden Helmet"
in a Brazilian fotonovela.

A film inspired by the first pages
of "Petit Journal illustr�"

which came back to its origins
with the concluding sentence

that no viewer remembers having
heard Reggiani pronounce.

� Jacques Becker surely was
an interesting man.

But, to be honest, the person I was
interested in was the little one. �

Memories of Mayo, who designed
the costumes for "Golden Helmet".

� You can't imagine how
beautiful she was.

For me, it was
absolutely touching.

But she... really, I was mesmerised
in her presence.

I don't know why it... the contours
of her face were so precious.

She looked like a little,
amazing wild animal.

Her gaze was upsetting.

I know I really dressed
her with love. �

Memoires of the cat.

C�sar, the house cat,
the memory keeper.

He remembers, for example, that during
the shooting of a certain film,

his owner was looking the other way
to avoid any eye contact.

Simone admitted that she
had a guilty conscience.

She was playing a lady who
wasn�t kind to the cat,

but she didn't want him to know it.

� There it is! Mouser, the lights come on,
the artists enter the stage.

The acrobat...

He thinks I hate you.
That's not true.

I don't hate you, on the contrary,
I find you very pretty.

It's just... You're only a cat.

You mustn't damage your
daddy's treasure!

Because your daddy has arranged
all those papers with love.

With a lot of love!

But you're elusive, just like him...

Oh, look what you've done!

Just look what you've done!

Look what you've
done... Look...�

The treasure of Simone's library
in Auteuil might be

her Soviet biography where all
the photos were retouched.

No one has ever verified the text.

The only likely explanation is that
it was necessary to create

jobs for that distinguished publishing
company which, in more serious times,

would, if ordered, remove Trotsky
and add Staline.

Simone always had at hand a copy
of that modest masterpiece

for the new visitors.

She was delighted with the fact
that the anonymous retoucher

knew how to express the doubling of
her personality of the pianist

in "Shadow and light", by giving
different expressions

to the lady and her reflection.

Another hall, not an ordinary one:
Moscow Sports Palace.

Twenty thousand seats.

A memory of a long love
story with Russia.

� There, in the middle, all alone, it's me.

I'm trying to look very
self-confident

but...I find it large...
very large.�

Later, when Montand
distanced himself,

she spoke in a funny way
of that old little girl

who keeps crying in the samovar lounge.

Before breaking up on her part,
because enough was enough.

But firstly, �Nostalgia�,
page 163:

�Twenty thousand people, among which
at best 2000 feel the subtleties

of your interpretation;
3000 perceive them.

The other 15000 trust their
friends and the sound system.

Twenty thousand people
during three days

love you, love you, love you!

One must be extremely well-
balanced to remain intact

after such a test.

The children were being born in the
heart of Siberia and we were receiving

telegrams informing us that they
were named "Yves Montand".

They might be embarrassed by
it now, at the university,

after being so proud of it
at the primary school.

There were even twins
conveniently born as a girl

and a boy; the girl's name was
"Simone", and the boy's "Yves". �

Wherever you are today,

Yves and Simone, soon to be
twenty years old: Zdravstvuyte!

Simone also speaks about the gazes.

Among the members of the audience
and the small group of officials,

discovering different gazes,
not of approval,

but of judgement.

One had to be extremely vigilant
to discover those looks.

They rarely belonged to the faces
of the people around us.

We were running into them in the street,
in the subway, some of them

at Moscow University and two of them that
I'll never forget, at the Likhachov factory.

She might have remembered
those gazes

14 years later, during the filming of
"The Confession"

"We will now read you the letter that
Londonova, the wife of one of

the traitors prosecuted by the State Court
sent to the president of the Republic:

"To the president Gottwald...
After my husband's arrest,

with the knowledge I had of
his life and his activities

I thought he was a victim of
traitors trying to use him

to cover up their own criminal
activities in the party.

However, when the indictment
was read and

when I heard his confession,
my hopes crumbled.

My husband wasn't a victim,
but a traitor to his party,

a traitor to his country.

My sorrow is immense, naturally,
but, as a communist,

I should congratulate myself on behalf
of the nation and the world peace

that the centre of conspiracies against
the country has been disclosed

and now I must join all the
honest comrades

in demanding appropriate punishment
for the traitors that you prosecute." �

� Since I'm not the director of
the factory, I can leave earlier.

Because of me...
If you hadn't hired me...

No, I don't have the working-class
background and I was

in the west during the war.

Listen, I don't blame you at all.
I know you're sincere.

But you shouldn't have written that letter.

I wrote it to the president
of the Republic.

It wasn't meant to be
read on the radio.

But... you heard him, right?
He pleaded guilty!

I've heard too much about it!
The testimonies, the indictment,

the confession... And it all seems false!

It sounds like a lesson learnt by
heart! I don't believe in this trial!

Why would the party conduct such
a trial if it weren't true?

There have been precedents! Remember!

Exactly!

The charge,
the debates,

it all smells of anti-semitism.
It's unacceptable!

Yesterday's heroes become
today�s spies, traitors...

No, I don't understand.
I can't agree with that!

I've decided to return
my party card.

Do you realise what you're risking?

But why would he confess?
A man like him...

He'll... I hope he�ll
tell us some day... �

Before her long journey to the east,
Simone acted in two films.

Brecht's "Mother courage", directed
by Wolfgang Staudte in Berlin,

which was never finished.
All that remains

in the family safe is a
vintage photo album.

The other is "The Crucible",
partly filmed in East Berlin.

�Nostalgia�, page 146:

� The day came when Proctor was
to be hanged. The carpenters at DEFA

had built great gallows
as if meant to last.

The harnesses had been prepared;
an invisible thread

connected them to the gallows so that
neither my husband nor our lovely

old Jeanne, nor kind Marguerite
would be idiotically

hanged for real when the
stools were removed.

The whole population of Salem gathered
and followed the rehearsals.

The harnesses held tight,
so we could start.

Then there was a kind of a
turmoil in the crowd

which soon turned into a discussion.

Then a spokesperson approached,
apologizing.

He absolutely wanted to
alert "Herr Rouleau"

of a small difference between
him and six of his "Genossen".

He simply couldn't agree with the
way Montand's feet

were playing their last scene
after the stool was removed.

His bare feet didn't perform
correctly the last

twitches that can usually be
seen in the hanged man

after he's passed away.

He apologized to "Herr Montand",
and said he would be

happy to show him with
his own hands how

Proctor's feet should twitch.

The other six "Genossen"
were also eager to help

make this hanging
indisputably authentic.

Unfortunately, other hanged
people didn't behave

in the same way,
hence the discussion.

Fourteen hands then started
serving the art, the technique

and the truth. They
stiffened up, their fingers

parted, some of them crossed
and for a moment looked like

butterflies until each one,
in its own manner

and in its own pace,
finally achieved a graceful

relaxation which meant that
this time it was really over.

Rouleau chose a combination of
seven methods; he said "Roll"

and Proctor was finally
hanged properly,

in the way any hanging in the
world should be done. �

�I can say that it was the war
that changed everything.

I think you won't find many
people of my generation

who will not tell you that those four
years, which seemed like twenty,

were the seeds of everything
we could become afterwards.

Anything good or bad... �

� - Five. - Five?
Five what?

The winner, the...well,
the winning number!

I was supposed to tell you.

The men you're expecting are here.

You are late.

It's because of Antoine, he had
some troubles. He said he was...

Shh!

...he was going to Reims,
to stay with... Sophie.

Come on, come on, shout.
Say it to everyone!

I'm sorry.

Ok, you will take care of the parcels.

Me? Oh, no!

Yes! The Legendre Pharmacy,
Varenne Street.

The way they look, there's
no need for the password.

But I can't, I'm expected
at home, it's impossible.

You're expected at home!
If I don't arrive in time,

the others will be arrested.
I must go and look for

some other drop points!
Do you know what it means?

-No. -A beginner... Sophie!
I'll make a report to Sophie!

And I can tell you something :

this is the last time you�re
making a connection! �

� In my absence and since
the arrest of F�lix,

Mathilde had moved from
Paris down to Lyon

where she showed a great
sense of organisation.

I made her my assistant.

The chief had already told me
she was a remarkable woman,

but she still surprised me.

She was made both to command
and to carry out the orders.

She's determined,
methodical and patient.

She's studying topography for hours
every day at the military

medical school in Lyon, which became
the headquarters of the Gestapo.

Finally, she found out that F�lix
was in the cell reserved for

those who had to be forced
to talk at all costs.

First, she was convinced that she
would have to use explosives

to breach one of the
Gestapo walls.

Then she gave up that escape
and rescue plan and

started developing another one

for which she tried to figure out
ways of disguise. �

� Tell me... that story about... the
non-negotiable share, that's...

something we used to say a long time
ago, thirty... more than

thirty years ago!
So, Bertaud wants

"La Libre R�publique", right?
He can take it!

Like all the others! Every time he
wanted a newspaper he had it!

"La Libre R�publique"...
Exactly thirty-four years.

"Resistance"...
"The Resistants"...

It's all gone. Look at you!
Look at us!

Old men and women!
Widows!

And the others? The parties, the unions...
What are they doing?

But, Reine, this paper
is ours...

Yes, and how many of us are there?

Thirty... About thirty of us
on 3000 shares...

And Bertaud wants 15...
so he has the paper!

- You don't have the right to say that!
- Yes, I do!

And don't call me "Reine" anymore!
It's over, it belongs to the past now.

Call me Judith, that's my name.

Yes, I have the right! Because of a guy
like Simoneau, for example!

Simoneau, he's in debt up to here,
so he'll take the money from Bertaud,

and he'll be able to
renovate his garage...

And the widows who completely
forgot they had

some papers on the bottom
of their drawers will

suddenly realise they're
worth money

and they'll take that money!

If they don't, their children
will do it instead!

My children are already there!

They don't care about
what once was!

- You�re exaggerating...
- They don't care...

and I don�t blame them.

Do you read
"La Libre R�publique"?

Do you? Here, read it!

Well, listen, what we were just
talking about, we....

we all thought... We thought
it would be nice...

if you took over the
management of the paper

because... who else? It simply
can't be anyone else!

And I would like to remind you there�s
a legend of Judith Therpauve.

And you fell for it... �

� Finally, you let your name
and your fame be used

for a cause you know nothing
or very little about.

Well I've known it a little longer
than you may think.

I didn't follow this trial as closely
as I followed two Goldman's trials.

that's what I meant when I
said I wasn't a witness.

At the first trial of
Goldman, I saw...

I wouldn't swear Goldman was innocent
but I'd swear people who judged

him, who decided about the
judgement, were guilty,

because they saw the same things as I did,

the same witnesses who
were talking nonsense.

I'm talking about the first trial of Goldman...
But now, it was maybe different.

That's what I wanted to say when
I said it wasn�t an affair

I was really well
informed about.

Actually, I wanted to know...

The reason I asked Master F�lix
to speak about it

here is because
I was asked

to help a little bit and

when I have the opportunity to speak,
like now� I can't always

invade national radios and televisions
but when you have an opportunity

like this, you try to use it
not only to promote

yourself or your
upcoming film.

- Don't you think�
- They don't use my name...

I let them use it!
-Yes, indeed...

... Honestly, because...
I�m not here to state that

M. Bouvillain is innocent. But I
want to tell you that

refusing to reexamine the case
is absolutely wrong�

� I would like to ask you
another question.

Did you love G�rard Plantier?

Yes, Madam, I loved G�rard.

I suppose you don't want me to
cry in front of you?

Goodbye, Miss.

You can sign your testimony
over there please.

Thank you, Miss. �

Being so interested in
legal affairs,

Simone was destined to
play the role of a judge

or, as she would put it,

to lend her own skin to the
character, after having raised

her voice for the real accused
on their trials.

She fought for Mauvillain and he
was acquitted after a retrial.

She fought for Goldman's retrial

and he was declared not guilty.

� You probably know the verdict
of Goldman's trial

we were waiting for together last night:
he was found innocent... �

� On the eve of the second
trial of Pierre Goldman

in Amiens, "The Burned Barns"

was broadcasted or
re-broadcasted on the TV,

it's a film in which I play an admirable
housewife who works hard

taking care of the farm,

truly a beautiful character
of an honest woman.

It all takes place in Amiens,
Somme. The jury

as well as the public
were composed of

people from the district
and the locals folks.

And I could tell just by the
look in their eyes

once they saw me in
that courtroom...

I felt a great respect,
deep affection

which was certainly due to my
yesterday's performance

in "The Burned Barns".

And since it was no secret
I was a part of the group

of people who followed the
trial because we

believed in Goldman�s innocence...
the love they showed for the lady

from "The Burned Barns",
the support I was given

along with the trust in their eyes;
I thought... had there been

"Diabolique" on TV, for example,
where I drown my comrade

Meurice and where, in addition,
I play a double game

because I am the killer,

I would have been the lady from
"Diabolique" in that courtroom

and they probably wouldn't have
given me the same love and trust.�

� Thank you.�

The predecessor of the cat "C�sar"
was named "Oscar".

That name had its raison d'�tre.

While Montand was giving his recital
in the autumn of �58 in L'Etoile

Simone was invited to London for
the premiere of a short English film

she enjoyed recording.

On the next day the performers
were hailed and

in the spirit of Saint-Paul de Vence, they
were going even further into exaggeration

by making up false reviews where
the producer was compared to

Hollywood giants and
Miss Signoret to Greta Garbo.

�It�s the same kind of humor kids
have after their final exam.�,

wrote Simone in �Nostalgia�.

� We had the freedom not to take
ourselves seriously.

Overwhelmed by dull euphoria
on the same evening I appeared

in the backstage of
Th��tre de l��toile,

just in time to see my husband say goodbye
to the audience after his ending tune.

The crowd shouted "encore!"
but little did he know

that Greta Garbo was
holding his towel. �

Everyone knows the story
of that Oscar.

But it's less known that in 1965,
Simone was awarded an Emmy,

which is the Oscar of
the American TV,

for a one hour drama that strangely
wasn�t released in France.

But the least known Simone's
role is probably the interviewer.

The scene takes place in 1963 under
the watchful eye of Bill Klein ;

set: department stores.

� We could have waited in front of a
school, but we needed more light.

We could have stayed in front of a
hospital as well � there are a lot

of women there too - but that
would mean that we chose the

label of sorrow and anxiety.

We could have gone
to a tea shop

but we would have seen only the women
having time to go out for tea.

So we came here because
they all seem to

come here in their
free time

and have no other
concerns but to look...

and to buy.

- Are you satisfied with your job?
- Yes, a lot.

Do you think you would miss it
if you didn�t have it?

No, I would find
other things to do.

- Maybe, in the beginning...
- You would miss it in the beginning?

Yes, but after some time� no.

Is that why you didn't want
to quit in the first place?

- Yes.
- What did you think when you were ten?

I used to tell my mother:
"you will choose my husband because

I think you have...
because I love daddy!" �

� Why did you accept
to work with us?

I accepted it because I'm
interested in people.

I am curious, indiscreet,
I don't know how to call it...

A lot of people dream about being able
to walk around stopping people,

knowing nothing about them
and finding out who they are.

For example, if I'm on a train

with six people in the
compartment, I feel bad

if I don't find out who they
are by the end of the trip.

There are certain signs, like the
type of the paper they read,

the way they ask
you if you're cold

or if they can open the
window or, well...

what they�re talking about
when passing through cities;

it all leads you to some conclusions
but I need to know for sure.

There are some people watching us now.
Does it bother you?

No, I don't see them because
they think that

I am acting so...
I don't see them.

Acting... They can see that you
don't have the right makeup...

I have more makeup than usually

because I don't put any
in everyday life.

To take a break?

No. Firstly, because when I was young
I was putting on too much makeup

and my husband made me
remove it so...

I stopped wearing makeup.
I haven't put it for 15 years.

Did he make scenes?

He would tell me "You should wash
your face" and I washed it.

Do you always do what he says?

I usually do what he says, yes,
but I actually like it.

So you're not a free woman?

I am free exactly the way
I want to.

So little but as much as I want to.�

� When you love people and when
you're interested in them,

in the end you spoil them because �
�Memories of the cat�

� Nothing makes me more sad than
knowing the people I love are

in an unknown place.
In other words, I immediately

feel frustrated,
that's the truth.

Is it necessary that you
always stay in touch?

Ah, that's the cord...�

�That cord

is the last thing which
keeps us close.

Two nights ago, I was sleeping...
I went to sleep with the telephone.

Yes, telephone in bed...

I know it�s ridiculous but...
I slept with the phone in my bed

because, despite everything,
the phone keeps us connected.

The phone can reach you, and...
you promised to call me back

and you can�t even imagine
how many dreams I had.

That phone call turned into a real
punch and I fell down�

or into a neck... it felt like a neck being
strangled; or I saw myself at the bottom

of the sea similar to the apartment
in Auteuil and I was connected to you

by a diving pipe begging
you not to cut it.

Anyway, it�s a stupid dream
if you say it out loud.

But when you�re sleeping the
nightmares are real, which is terrible.

Was it because you were
speaking to me?

You�ve been my reason of being and
the air I breathe for five years now.

I've been spending my time waiting for
you, fearing you�re dead if you're late,

horrified by that idea and coming
back to life every time you appear

and when you�re finally here,
terrified that you�ll leave again.

Now that you're talking to me
I can finally breathe.

My dream is not that meaningless after all�
If you... if you cut that pipe...�

When being the Other Simone's
name was Dora, D�d�e,

Elisabeth, Rose, Rosa, Alice,
Mathilde, Lady Vamos,

Marie - called "Golden Helmet"
and three times Th�r�se.

The first one was "Th�r�se Raquin",
the last one "Th�r�se Humbert" ;

and between them Th�r�se,
a bedridden from �Police Python 357�.

Sometimes the words of the Other
can be useful for the real one

and one can recognize by ear
those words that belong

to both Simone and Th�r�se.

Division� Dividing,
that's the whole idea...

Because you have to know how to
separate those Others so that

an actor, named Fran�ois P�rier,
can easily shift from the role

of unworthy husband to
the role of kind solicitor

having the luxury of commenting
on that transition himself.

� I�ve known your late
father, Gaston Humbert,

and I admired and respected him...

Alas... alas, while my dear
stepfather was still alive

he used to give us advice and
lead us but now, master,

my husband and I are thrown
to the lions, so to speak.

What did you expect? I am
a very simple woman.

I am a rural woman who only
wants to be left in peace;

as for my husband, he's an artist.

I was studying law for some time
like everyone else, but...

So you see, master, I am
the heiress to the

biggest fortune in France.
I have great expectations,

really great expectations

but the thing is that meanwhile I have
to borrow in order to survive.

So the lendors, who know about
my expectations, use it

to corner me and
to plot against me.

Finally, not a day goes by
without a lawyer, solicitor

or a financial advisor
bothering me.

The whole world wants to borrow money to
Th�r�se Humbert and the whole world

wants to make her sign promissory
notes with a special clause

which makes the loan sharks
of the world meet and camp

in front of my door.

But Madam, you don't have
to accept their money.

But how to survive then, master,
how to survive?

And above all, how to pay the trial?

Because, let me explain,
I've been on trial

for years!

I am on trial with the Crawfords,
actually the new Crawfords,

who are contesting the will.
So� I've been trying to

get out of it for ages, to
get what belongs to me,

to close the chapter and pay it off.
Yet, there's nothing I can do.

Let's examine the facts
together, shall we?

Yes sir, but you see,
I told you,

I wasn�t born for this kind of life...

Do you want me to explain?
You're getting too excited.

We're not on the street,
for God�s sake...

No, Fred�rique, I can answer
to Master Dumorgue,

if only he would ask simple questions!

Between peasants, I'm sure
we'll understand each other! �

"Th�r�se Humbert" was one of
Simone's biggest roles.

She who loved surprises
and imagination above all,

wanted it so badly that
she started the

production by herself.

It was her way to reconnect with the sublime
madwoman from "Back Streets of Paris"

and to unleash the humour
which wasn�t demanded

from her for 30 years
of respectful carrier.

It was also a portrait of a society.

She used to say it in her interviews:
� That was the period when France

was richer and poorer,
more greedy, narrow-minded

and bigot than ever. �

After the Humberts, comes France
of the 1900�s, Dreyfus, the lure of gain

and the greed which made the deceived
even worse than their deceivers.

She enjoyed playing the role
of an extravagant person

who would mock that
vengeful, profiteering,

anti-Semitic France which
recurred in cycles.

She might have also enjoyed
imagining that at the same time,

in the same church where rascals and
nouveaux riches showed off in the front row

one could notice Manda and
Golden Helmet in the back.

�Today, when I see the photographs
or watch the old films again,

I'm much more aware of
the beauty

I wasn't really aware of
when it was on my face.

I didn't realise it then.
It�s not a joke, really.

Otherwise, I would have probably
mentioned it in the book.

I did speak about ageing,
but not about

my looks from that period
because I was never

really aware of it. You don't
have to believe me

but I'm telling the truth.

"Nostalgia", page 313:

� I never was a star, neither
a trendsetter in hairstyle,

catch phrases or fashion.

It's very difficult to be a star and it's
very difficult to remain a star.

But it must be horrible
to stop being one.

It's really easy to
live at the pace

of your contemporaries, to mature
and eventually grow old with them.

It's wonderful to have a chance
and play even greater roles

coloured by your own memory
and personal experience

which wrinkled your face.

Those wrinkles are the scars of
laughter, tears, questions,

surprises and certainties shared
by your contemporaries.

For most women, these
scars are like enemies.

They track them down,
detect them,

try to turn aside and erase them,
which is perfectly understandable.

One doesn't associate with their
enemy if it doesn't pay off,

if one has no use of him.

For the film stars, those scars
are fatal, issuing

a warning before final expulsion
from the land of dreams.

They must leave it for fear
of jeopardizing their

image carefully built
throughout the years.

For the people like me who
didn't have the strength,

taste or courage
of a star,

those scars were like allies
or even more - alibis.

Does one play better with age?

You don't play better. You
don't play at all. You are. �

� The actors are indeed wonderful
people because they are children

that never grow old. They can
look older on the outside

but certainly not
on the inside

and they continue to play mum,
dad and the shopkeeper.

I'm much more proud of
being an actress than

of having written two books.

How should I put it�
I like the idea of working

again, but that's primary
a raw emotion.

At some point I found myself in
danger of not working anymore.

I even saw myself in great fear
of nothingness,

of not existing anymore.

However, I got used to
it in a strange way.

And then... well, it didn�t
turn out that way.

When I come to think of...
It�s funny because it's like a

foretaste for me, it reminds me of...
there are these lights,

the camera... I even had a beauty
treatment at Maud�s

before this conversation.

It allows me to reconnect with acting
and it's really wonderful

to think that in a few months
I'll start to play that child again.

A bit more grown up,
but still a child.

However, there�s another

problem that I need
to address, which is...

I've lost the weight I had
unfortunately been gaining

for over ten years...

But in a way, I should still
be thankful

because it enabled me to play
some roles I probably wouldn't be

able to play otherwise. For example,
I wouldn't be able to play

the role of "Madame Rosa"
with this weight.

I believe I hypocritically
used my weight

to make the character of
Madame Rosa heavier.

I think... If Mr Mizrahi
came and asked me today:

"Do you want to play Madam Rosa? ",
I wouldn't know

how to do it.

The only mystery I'm trying
to solve by myself

- well, obviously not only by myself, because
I'm speaking about it in front of all of you

but nevermind, I'll say it aloud:
Will I be able to regain

the same strength I had
when I became

the fat old lady I allowed
myself to turn into. �

� This is when I visited
Sidi Bel Abb�s

Well, that�s all over now.

- And this?
- I was 18 at the time.

And this one?

It was when I defended myself at Vavin,
no, at Pigalle, Vavin was after that.

And this one?

It was right after the war.
I had already changed, no?

And the man, who is he?

F�lix. It's F�lix Blumentag...

I gave him my love

and, in return, he ran off with all
of my savings and turned me in

to the police for being a Jew.
It didn't work because

shortly after he was deported never
to come back from Germany. �

� May God make you live for 120 years!

Don't even mention him!
May he stay where he is.

But why? Don't you
believe in God?

I saw what he did
in Auschwitz.

God has eyes, but cannot see,
he has ears, but cannot hear

He's got a mouth too but remains silent.
It's too late for him to ask

for my forgiveness because
the damage has been done.

I'm not afraid of him anymore.

I don't want God at my funeral,
neither a rabbi or anything.

Just bury me under a
tree. I'll be just fine. �

� When you play someone,
you're a "child�. � Yes.

I don't have that feeling, but I think
that the people who�re watching us

do feel they have to deal
with the child in S. Signoret.

On the contrary, it seems...

I am not saying the loss of weight
made me look younger

to the point of becoming a child...
- I�m trying to say that there is

this notion of irresponsibility about
childhood: we�re taken care of

while we are playing someone else.

The same goes for actors.

It becomes a part of you, but at the
same time you have to take care of

other things and people and
you become responsible.

And that's not acting.
So, don't tell me you're only

a child who's having fun planning
to stay that way forever!

Thank you very much,
I'm really flattered...

It's not a compliment,
it's a fact, it's obvious!

However, I'm not sure the
word is a bad choice.

I mean the word child, or even
a grown up child because one needs

to be infantile or childish

in order to keep their
passions alive.

I think when the adults say

"I believed in it too when I
was a child, but I was wrong

and now it�s over", it means
they are really adult.

But I know some old kids.

Let's talk about Sartre again.
I�m going to be laughed at

if I say Sartre was a child but he
possessed those childhood qualities.

He continued being enthusiastic
and stubborn in a childish way

until the very end.
That's what I intended to say.

Yes, I understand...

Furthermore, as actors,
we�re able to give free rein

to our sense of game,
imitation or disguise,

yes� let's say disguise.

As for those who are not
actors...

The part of the childhood that
remains allows them,

even after being fooled
and disappointed...

even after committing mistakes

and being guilty
for various things

it allows them to start from scratch,
and to believe again �

Page 373 : � I'll never know who,
what, which places exactly

the New York graffiti artist
felt nostalgic about.

He felt the urge to write on
the wall that it wasn't

what it used to be.
Maybe it meant

he was happy
to get rid of it.

Or sad for not being able
to find anything

around him to evoke it. �

� It's not what it used to be
because I�d say people

succeed less and less in finding
the places they used to know and

love in the same state as before
because things change fast.

It's true that the bistrots where
we used to have coffee

made way for laundromats.
It's also true that the cities

don�t look alike anymore, or they
all do; it's true that the suburbs

of Aix-en-Provence are the
same as those of Lille.

It wasn't like that back in the day�

Page 377 : � I played with a
certain dose of hypocrisy with the

words memory and nostalgia.
I can�t swear that I was

completely sincere in
denying I was nostalgic.

I might be nostalgic for
the non shared memory. �

� Sometimes small details reveal

that we didn't see things
from the same perspective.

Even if we witnessed them
together. With whomever. �

The whole Simone�s 566 page book
"Adieu Volodia� dwells on these

three words: "non shared memory".

By sending this farewell to all forgotten
and changed "Volodias", exhausted

partly by history, partly by their loved
ones, Simone reveals us her secret,

her utopia: the world in which people
would share the same memory and

in which the things they have gone
through together would leave the

same imprints and be equally
evaluated by the test of time.

This monstrous memory which
depending on the moment

and the person you shared it with,
caused excitement, repulsion or terror

was the treasure she wanted to
share with the people she loved.

The treasure and utopian vision
of a child for whom the only gift

would be the shared
memory of a moment,

even if it were the oldest
and the most trivial one.

For instance, the moment in which a girl
on the pavement of Inkermann Boulevard

across the Lyc�e Pasteur throws her
beret in the air as far as she can,

the brown beret which this time
wan�t fall down.