Original subtitles

-Bardot screen tests. -My name is Brigitte. I'm 15.

You don't look like a movie star yet.

How old are you here?

-A presence? Brigitte? Really? -You look surprised?

-I'm crazy about her. -"The kitten's dead."

What's that? Is that "The kitten is dead"?

If I see you hanging around her again,

I'll put a bullet in your head.

You're 15.

They could send me to prison. Anything.

I'm not obedient. I'm not a virgin.

I'm working on a story.

A woman. Well, a girl.

All the men are fighting over her, and she doesn't care.

Did you consider any actors?

Christian for the big brother.

And the girl…

The girl, it's her.

THIS SERIES IS A WORK OF FICTION BASED ON TRUE EVENTS

The beach isn't bad. That's right. Yeah.

That side will be perfect.

We found the beach.

We found the beach.

Now we need to find the money.

The sun too.

We'll get your dress wet on set. I have four spares.

Show me. Perfect. I'll do a touch-up there.

They're ready.

Action!

Are you getting up, you wimp?

Want me to carry you?

-Cut! -It's cut.

Let's get Brigitte's dress ready for the next shot.

Well, Mr. Trintignant is here!

-Vadim, how are you? -How are you, Jean-Louis?

-I'm good. -Good journey?

Yes.

-I'm happy you're here. -Me too. Very happy.

-Christian, are you well? -Yeah.

-Do you feel ready? -It's nice here.

Simone, come sit here. Come.

Brigitte, I have your shoes. Shall I keep them?

-Yes, keep them for me. -You don't want your shoes?

Juliette loves to be barefoot. Me too.

Who is Juliette?

The girl in the movie. The one Vadim invented.

She's unlike anyone else, so everyone hates her.

I saw the work plan.

What if we started with 75 instead of 88?

It's the same set.

But they're dressed.

Because starting with 88 is embarrassing, isn't it?

And the actor--

-You're an actor, right? -You're the director. She's your wife.

Jean-Louis, you don't have to worry.

You know, for me, on set, there's no more husband and wife.

No more feelings.

Sorry to be crude,

but I can ask my wife to get screwed by a stranger on the kitchen table.

It's in front of a camera, I'm a mortician with a corpse. It's work.

You think Hitchcock wants to kill when he directs a murder scene?

I think so, yes.

What's the 88?

It's the wedding night scene.

I was thinking we might be missing a shot of Christian coming out of the water.

-What's for dinner? -Dunno.

-Your shoes, Brigitte! Here. -Merci, Tatine.

-I'm going to see Mom. -Go ahead.

You're not the director. I'm not your wife.

Vadim knows what he's doing.

Vadim! Wait for me.

She pushed him into the sand with her foot.

I'm exhausted.

Evening, Albert!

-Evening, Margot! -Evening.

Your friend Mr. Lévy got here.

-My producer. -He's not easy-going.

-When we said we didn't have a phone… -Anyway, he left.

A hotel isn't a bar, Albert!

A hotel? We have three rooms.

He left this for you.

If he's looking for the Carlton, he won't find it in Saint-Tropez.

Thank you.

A whole page in the Daily Mirror. What glory!

Really?

Well, tonight the sex kitten has had enough.

I've had enough too.

Now you unbutton his shirt. One by one.

And you say…

You're handsome.

Open up his shirt more before you tell him.

You're handsome.

It isn't an observation.

It's a declaration.

More like a discovery, isn't it?

Yeah, okay. A discovery.

You don't like music?

I do, a lot, but…

-I prefer-- -Classical music.

Of course.

Of course.

Classical music bores me.

I always think about something else.

Actually, I think abut something else at the theater too.

It's good to be bored sometimes.

I was in Bible study the last time I heard that.

I love to have fun.

-All the time? -Well, yes.

How boring.

You think I'm stupid?

I don't know you.

I know you a bit.

You don't like to dance. You don't like to talk.

You like silence. You like to be alone.

You like everything I hate.

Maybe.

But I don't think you're stupid.

Not yet anyway.

I like Vadim a lot.

There you go.

We have something in common, then.

So you hold her hand like that.

You walk all the way to the end.

-And you kiss there, okay? All right? -All right.

I'll call action. Go to your places, please!

-Action! -Silence, please!

-Rolling! -Call it.

34-1, first take.

Let's go!

Cut! Who is that idiot?

Can't you see we're shooting?

Come on, get this asshole out.

Back to the start, please!

Action!

-Silence! -Rolling!

You're silly. You got a good telling off, Enzo.

34-1, second take.

Perfect! Cut!

-We ought to change the magazine. -Yes.

-Did you cut? -Yeah.

Too bad. It was good.

Today was good.

You're perfect, you know.

I'm myself. I don't know how to do anything else.

Quite a bit!

Jean-Louis. He's only had one drink. He'll have another.

No, thank you very much.

Jean-Louis! You're having dinner with us tonight.

-We're going to Palmyre. -No.

-Leave him alone. -No. We're all together.

He's got an inner life.

-He's going to get depressed. -He's doing well.

-Where were you? -He came to say hi.

We're having a party. I'm having a party. You're coming with me. Okay?

-How are you all? -Hi, Cracra!

How are you?

George, you wanted to see me?

Can we talk for a bit?

-The three of us? -Yeah.

Yeah, come.

Listen, I know all the journalists. It's my job.

There are guys I don't know hanging around with their cameras on a strap.

I don't like it.

You worry about nothing, Cracra. People don't care about me, Vadim.

Don't say that.

I'm being asked for magazine covers every day.

Cinémonde, Ciné Revue, Noir et Blanc.

They're all after me.

And soon, we'll have gossip magazines like in England.

But what gossip, George?

Listen, here's what I think.

We should do a photo shoot.

Well-organized and supervised.

"A fashionable young couple" or "The Saint-Tropez lovers."

Something that shuts down rumors. We give this to your Paris Match friends.

"The Saint-Tropez lovers"? You couldn't find anything more naff.

I improved on my recipe. I mean, my grandmother's.

What do you call your tart, Micka?

In Polish, we say "torcik."

Torcik.

Try this, Cracra. There.

A Saint-Tropez torcik.

Take the keys, Jean-Louis.

Go for a ride.

-You'll take care of it? -Yes.

I appreciate it.

Come on.

Up there at her grandfather's, there's a great view over the countryside.

We visit him every Sunday.

For once, I'd rather go to the beach.

Yeah? And who do you think is at the beach?

She has a crush on the young guy. What's his name?

-Jean-Louis! -Right.

I'm sure it's more fun to kiss that handsome young man than Fernandel.

-Isn't that your husband's car, Brigitte? -Stop the car. I'll get out.

I saw Vadim's car down there.

He lent it to me.

I wanted to go for a drive. To get away for a bit.

Away from me?

Yes.

I scare you?

You want to have fun.

There are many boys in the crew who will join the party.

Yesterday, when you kissed me…

It was me who kissed you?

Shall we make peace?

I prefer war.

You can say it was me this time.

It's now, isn't it?

It's now.

I prefer number four.

Perfect! Cut!

-32-4, first take! -Action!

You're handsome.

Again. From the start, Brigitte.

You're handsome, you know.

-Cut! -4-1, first take!

Action!

It's there. It's palpable! There's tension, sensuality in every shot.

-Well done, kids. -Thanks, Raoul.

I suck. I'm ugly.

I hate myself.

You can see a boom in shot number three. The bed scene.

Yes, I saw.

Actresses! First rushes. She'll get over it.

I'll call Hollywood.

Brigitte?

Brigitte, all actors hate seeing themselves on-screen.

-Where's Jean-Lou? -Well…

-Where's Jean-Lou? -I saw him go that way.

I stopped breathing when you left.

She has so little confidence. She needs to be reassured.

Yeah, I know.

Harry Cohn from Columbia. I worked him up like crazy.

I'm taking two reels to Los Angeles tomorrow.

What's this mess?

Get in!

Friends, let's meet at Palmyre. Mr. Lévy's treat!

Yeah!

Come on! See you later, kids!

Take her out for dinner. It's for the best.

I may be a bit old-fashioned,

but free love… it makes me laugh.

You aren't old-fashioned.

You're old.

-Ladies. -Evening.

It's true that I'm too old for this childishness.

And I'm jealous.

That's outdated.

The husband, the wife, the lover…

If the wife tells the husband, who is the cuckold?

When the wife stops talking,

the bullshit starts.

-You're back home? -Yes.

So?

I'm tired. I need to sleep early or I'll look awful tomorrow.

You won't be pleased.

A contemporary girl living in an old-fashioned world.

Men lose their heads at the sight of her.

She loves it.

-A tease? -No.

She doesn't do it on purpose. It's instinctive.

She will not go along with society's taboos.

She's generous. Elusive.

Fragile too.

Her need to be loved is an obsession, but she dares to be provocative.

It's about survival for Brigitte.

Sorry, for Juliette.

Be careful. Vadim is a great manipulator.

He'd make you believe anything.

Vadim seems to know you well.

He knows everything about me. Even what I don't know.

Vadim is my alter ego.

He's my best friend. He's my husband.

-The brother I never had. -So, this is incest?

That's it. I hadn't thought of it, but it's marital incest.

Brigitte was 15 when I met her.

She seduced me, but she deeply moved me too.

She's an extraordinary blend of innocence and femininity.

Indecency and shyness.

Brigitte, do you not mind your husband directing you in love scenes?

In life, I'm very modest.

But if Vadim asks me to undress in front of 50 people and a camera,

well, I forget my modesty.

When he asks you to kiss a man, do you forget you're his wife?

No, I obey my husband.

Like all wives.

Great. Let's take the photo.

Thank you.

He's so cute!

His name is Clown.

He's yours.

Thank you, Vava!

Here, have him.

See you later, Clown. You're so handsome.

Let's go there.

What are you doing here?

Serge told me you'd need me.

You're kidding, Serge? It's Christian's scene. Get down.

It changes all the time.

This isn't in the work plan!

Leave me alone. I'm exhausted. I spent the night writing.

I added a scene. So?

-Do you mind? -Yes, I mind.

We run over every day! You don't give a damn!

You're unreasonable, Vadim!

-You put me in the shit! -You can shove your work plan up your ass!

Stop! Are you mad?

You put us in the shit!

Know your place or I'll break you!

You'll never set foot on a movie set again!

What are you doing? Take a picture. It'll last longer!

I came to see Jean-Louis. I'm his wife.

You know, the other night, on the phone, I didn't want to mention it.

Here.

I didn't want to mention it on the phone either.

Your love affair is going to be short.

This girl is everything you hate.

I wasn't careful.

I wasn't careful either.

I fell in love with a mysterious young man.

Even a tad arrogant.

Not naive at all.

With a fierce sense of humor.

Then, of course, there was his smile.

No.

It doesn't work anymore.

I'm miserable, Stéphane.

-I despair at the idea of hurting you. -Thanks.

I'm warning you,

it'll be easier to get rid of me than the French army.

We have two hours. They're shooting the scene with Jürgens.

-I told Vadim. -What did you tell him?

"I'm going to get laid with Jean-Lou. Back in two hours"?

I don't lie to Vadim. I won't ever lie to him.

Well, yes. He's your husband. Your brother. Your partner in crime.

What a beautiful couple.

That doesn't interest me. You can go.

Is your wife waiting for you?

I left Stéphane.

I don't love her anymore.

Because I love you.

You see, for me, it's simple.

So, Vadim and you,

your subtleties, your games,

your marital incest…

I'm not playing.

I love you too.

Move in here tonight?

Not tonight. Not now.

Not in the middle of the movie in front of the crew.

Leave now, please.

Cut!

Would you mind learning your lines? What's going on?

It's a crucial scene. It's Juliette's ambiguity.

They've just made love. She's lost. She can't decide between two men.

She doesn't know if she's happy or unhappy. The text is precise.

We'll fail if you don't know it.

Do whatever you want, do an Italian rehearsal,

but the lines again and again, without intentions!

Come back when you know it perfectly! Thank you!

I was starting to love you.

-So, what's going on? -I'm scared.

-You're just a kitten. -Love me.

I love you like crazy.

Sorry, I forgot my line here.

So tell me. Tell me you love me.

That you need me. Tell me again.

Kiss me, Michel.

Okay. Let's go.

-There. -They're ready?

-Where's Brigitte? -Makeup.

It's fine.

You need to let me go, Vadim.

Haven't you already gone?

I'll always love you.

Even if I love someone else.

I knew this would happen.

Why him?

That's what I asked you when you hired him.

You could've waited till the end of the shoot.

I tried.

But he didn't want to.

I love you like crazy.

So tell me. Tell me you love me.

That you need me.

Tell me again.

Kiss me, Michel.

Juliette.

-I'm scared. -Of what?

It's hard to be happy.

Cut.

It's very good.

End of the day. We'll pick it up tomorrow.

Cut, thank you.

Find me another one?

Will that do?

"One has to celebrate the end of love like they celebrate death in New Orleans."

Our friend Françoise said that.

What do they do in New Orleans?

They sing. They dance.

They laugh.

They drink a lot.

Did you read the papers? We're in the shit.

I read it all. I feel sick.

Me too. She's out of control.

I'm not talking about Brigitte, Raoul.

-I'm talking about the press. -She's reckless. Irresponsible.

She isn't irresponsible.

-She's free. -She isn't free. She's married.

1.5 million. 350,000. Does it mean something to you?

If you don't mind, Mr. Lazareff, this isn't England.

In France, private life--

Private life is life too.

It'll soon be the survival of this dying paper.

But competitors--

I am the competition. I know it.

I wasn't called in to help to make another France-Soir

or a poor man's Intransigeant.

That's France Dimanche right now.

Since the start, the editorial policy was always the respect--

I'm here to change the editorial policy. Take Paris Match.

It's his obsession.

They were about to go bust. Now 1.5 million copies a day.

Since when?

Since their report on the Queen of England.

They get it.

Photos, photos, photos.

People in their kitchen, their bed.

At the hospital, on crutches enjoying life once again.

My editorial policy?

No more war. No more politics.

No more strikes.

Celebrities.

Celebrities' babies.

Lovers, abortions.

Infidelities, weddings, divorces.

They'll sue us.

Let them sue us.

We'll lose. We'll pay.

Those who don't agree or who want to leave are free to go.

You're gonna get me a squadron. A pack of dogs.

Guys who can stay up a tree or in a car for 48 hours

to take only one photo.

They have them at Paris Match.

Pay them double.

-Goodbye, Simone. Let's meet up soon. -We're leaving in two minutes.

Thanks a lot.

Bye.

There you go, kids. Take my car.

-I'm going with Raoul. -No…

-Yes, it's fine. -It's better. Just the two of us.

Thanks, Vava!

I'm scared.

SIX MONTHS LATER

-She's naked. It's suggested. -I can't believe they do things like this.

-She can show her ass, but she can't act. -It's a shame.

So indecent.

So vulgar. No elegance.

And that insufferable voice.

If whores become heroines…

I'm shocked.

Do you still fancy oysters?

Yes.

I'll never write hate letters to Vadim.

You can't agree with each other. It's law.

We won't get it done. You heard the judge.

We'll try harder.

-Right, Brigitte? -No way.

Since the lady's extramarital affair is public knowledge,

you must file a complaint and prove…

I don't want to file a complaint against Brigitte.

Well, listen. You talk about it. We'll discuss it tomorrow.

I don't understand.

"The kitten is dead."

TRÈVES - GERMANY, 1957

He doesn't look like much.

Guys, I prefer Marilyn.

I have a French boner. I prefer B.B.

You don't fuck around, do you?

Are you up for it? A small dude like you.

I'd worry if I were you.

Come on.

-Share a bit. -Yes.

-Tell us. -Be generous.

So we don't just jerk off on pictures.

Come on, hit him. Smash his face in.

Trintignant.

Call for you.

-Hello. -I just arrived. I'm waiting at the hotel.

You're prettier without.

I'm scared you'd find me ugly without.

My perfume? Am I allowed?

"A sort of lewd melodrama."

-Vadim is getting his ass kicked. -He doesn't care.

He'll make another movie.

"A parody of an actress."

"Looks like a maid. Talks like an illiterate woman."

What a bunch of idiots.

I don't care either.

One of them still said I was gorgeous. He writes in Arts. His name is Truffaut.

I'm lucky. No one talks about me.

Sausages. Compote.

There's mustard and a corkscrew too.

Thank you. Jean-Louis?

-This is Alain. -Hello, Alain.

Don't get up, I'm going. I found a nice bar.

I can't do anything without him. Aside from what I do with you.

Thank you.

He does everything. He drives. He answers the mail.

-Is there a lot? -Loads.

Hate letters too.

I'd have appreciated a few hate letters.

Come here.

I've never loved, will never love anyone like I love you.

Are you hungry?

You'll see, you'll find work as soon as you come back.

Everyone will forget about me. And I may not come back.

I'll die of despair if you go there. If you die, I'll just die.

Hang on a bit. I have leave coming up.

Shit. It's almost time.

-Are they going to shoot you otherwise? -Yes.

The minister's principal private secretary is expecting you.

I'm delighted to meet you.

Sit down, my dear.

You'll be more comfortable here.

I should thank you, Mr. Babinet. It's very nice of you to meet me.

I watched your infamous movie.

I went with my brother because my wife is old-fashioned.

Did you like it?

In any case, I'm happy to see you in the flesh.

Okay. You're dismissed.

So, people are bothering you?

Tell me about it.

It's simple. I'm very much in love with a young man.

He plays my husband in the movie.

I only had eyes for you.

He was sent to Trèves in Germany.

He left seven months ago. I'm miserable.

Seven months is a long time. No, thanks.

I'm scared because he's going to leave for Algeria.

Unless…

-What's his name? -Trintignant, Jean-Louis.

The 51st Signal Regiment.

That's it.

If he could finish his service in Paris, with the army's cinematic service.

-If it was up to you? -It's up to me.

-And up to you. -I'd be so grateful to you.

I sure hope so.

I told you I was very much in love.

Yes, but one can do a lot of things for love.

And it'll be worth it this time.

I didn't come here to play.

I was very genuine. I opened my heart to you.

Actresses trade sex for parts, right?

But you're picky when it comes to saving your fiancé?

I've never had sex for a part!

You blackmailer! You're disgusting!

You tease!

Get out of here, Miss Bardot!

You're not about to see your little soldier in Paris!

Miss…

It's delicious, really.

But it's Brigitte!

-What a surprise! -Aren't you shooting?

-Hello, Dad. -Hello, my daughter.

Sweetheart!

-Hello, darling! -You look tired!

Not at all, she looks great.

-Are you well? -Yes!

Hello, sweetie!

You never stop. I'm not surprised you're exhausted.

And who is lining her pockets meanwhile?

Olga.

-Are you well, Le Boom? -Yes, when I see you.

And Jean-Louis? Algeria?

He'll be on leave. But he'll probably go afterwards.

Tell me. Did you meet Danielle Darrieux?

I think she's charming. Yeah.

No, Dad, I don't know her.

At first, I was against your marriage, but now this divorce upsets me.

Typical of you.

It's true that we never had a divorce until now.

What's this?

-Your father went to see the archbishop. -What archbishop? Why?

He was handing these out after mass.

-A synod on good and evil. -Give it to me.

I went to see him. I said, "Change this, please!"

"I'm sure that there are scenes of debauchery, rapes, massacres

in Michelangelo's or Caravaggio's work

which could replace my daughter's image as a symbol of evil."

Don't you think so?

They didn't want to hear it. I knew it, but you know your father.

On evening, at La Coupole, a bohemian woman told me,

"Sir, one day, your name will be famous."

I never thought it'd be like this.

Aren't you tired of always telling the same story?

Aren't you tired of always annoying me?

Yes! Can you keep your vicious tongue to yourself for five minutes?

See, Mom. I'd rather divorce.

I'm a bit tired. I'm going to go for a nap.

-Right? -Okay.

Come.

-Hang on. -Let's go.

Your grandfather's getting old.

-See you soon, Dad. -See you soon.

I adore you.

Very well.

-It's perfect. Very good. -Thanks.

-Mr. Lazareff. -Yes?

My name's Enzo.

-Enzo what? -Enzo Fanelli.

This is exactly what I want.

Are you a freelancer?

That's up to you.

Come see me tomorrow.

Don't let go of her. That kid is a gold mine.

-Give me the soap. -No!

Let me do it.

This is how I want to live.

Away from everything. Here with you.

No electricity.

No phones.

No photographers, no journalists.

No producers.

No pains in the ass.

I'll stop everything.

You think they'll let you go?

Already released in 35 countries,

Roger Vadim's movie, And God Created Woman,

is conquering the world.

From Hamburg to Kyoto, from Rio to Stockholm,

young girls the whole world over got Brigitte's haircut.

They copy her dresses and her makeup.

They even organize look-alike contests

to find out who looks the most like our French Brigitte.

French people didn't get it, as usual.

I told you, Olga.

I knew we had a hit.

The Japanese, the English, the Italians, in Mexico, Hong Kong, they are all mad!

In churches in the United States, priests are excommunicating Brigitte.

Condemning the audience to purgatory. And the takings keep going up.

-Okay. Where is she? -Somewhere with Jean-Louis.

He's on leave. I can't get through to her.

The whole world is asking for her,

and you, her agent, don't know where she is?

One day, we'll have a cabin at sea. No one will find us.

Watch out!

-Are you okay? -Yes.