All language subtitles for The.Mother.and.the.Whore.1973.Eng.

THE MOTHER AND THE WHORE

- Hello, can you lend me your car?
- Sure. Here are the keys.

- Know where the papers are?
- Yes. Sure, you don't need it?

No. The left signal is broken,
so be careful.

I have my own system: I never turn left.

Okay. Thank you.

Hello. What are you doing here?

I came to sit in on an old friend's class.

That's annoying... It's a new term,
my first day of classes.

I'm not very sure of myself.

Please, accept it.
There's a note inside.

FOR SHE WHO WAKES ME
EACH NIGHT WITH A DREAM.

I have nightmares, too.
I see Mary this big.

I say "dream", and you come
right back with "nightmare".

I wanted to tell you:
"I've come to get you".

No, I can't.

But you didn't hear me.

I've come to get you.
I want to marry you.

No. I'm not there yet.
I'm not ready.

Not ready?
That means you will be soon.

I don't know.

Oh, that's enough!

I haven't bothered you much lately.

I haven't chased you,
or made your life difficult.

I know.

You've had time to get hold
of yourself, to think.

All that time lost!

Maybe that time was needed to work it out,

to see things clearly.
But now, I know.

Every morning, every day
we do not spend together is a day we lose.

It's a massacre, it's a crime!

No, I can't. I don't know.
You might've worked it out

- but I still have problems.
- We'll solve them together!

You must decide, commit yourself.

You expect things to just happen?

They do, I have come.
I will ask you nothing.

You have nothing to ask.
Excuse me, I have to go.

- I'll come with you.
- No, don't.

You've invited me a hundred
times to your classes.

- You never came.
- I'm here today.

No.

It's curious.
It was all clear this morning.

The streets were calm. I was fine.

I came to say: "I've come to get you".

You should have said: "I expected you".

Like in the song by... I forget who...

You know...

I feel you in me so deeply, so near.

I can't believe you feel nothing.

I don't believe you.

You claim not to feel,
but it isn't true.

You're lying, you're playing a role.

I don't mind talking,
but if you go on like that, I'd rather leave.

No, don't go.

I'm sure, I want to live with you.

I'd like to watch you fall asleep,
wake up.

Is that so unpleasant to hear?
I want to live with you.

I love your neck.

Have you forgotten? I love your skin.

In the years we spent together,
I'd slowly forgotten your face,

my first impression of you...

Your leaving let me find you again in me,

intact, like the first day.

I had to leave.

You never finish your sentences:
You had to leave, so we'd meet again.

Let's go for coffee.

I'd like a bite to eat.
I have three more hours.

- I'm broke.
- I'll treat.

You know...

I had thought you'd come with me today.

I'd even asked friends, ones you like,
to be our witnesses.

I was so sure...

You're really naive.

I was wrong, once again.

But does this mean you'll never come back?

In three months, in... I don't know.

You're not telling me you won't come back.

You're telling me you don't know.

While you don't know, I'll wait.

Say something.

I'd like to say, don't count on it.

Don't take the easy way out. Answer me.

I'd rather you said plainly:
"I won't come back".

Note, I'd rather you said:
"I will come back".

It's as if you put me aside to see
if it works out with this guy.

Let me put it another way:

Do you still love me, or not?

This is ridiculous.
What novel do you think you're in?

You know yourself, it's not that simple.

You love me. I know it.

That's why I'm asking for a decision.

I've been waiting you for months...
I'm ready to wait as long as it takes.

But, all this time,
you're living with a guy.

If you were alone, you'd think.
We could see each other sometimes.

We could go out together.

As times go by, you could
make up your mind...

You'd know if you want to live
with me or another lover.

It'd be fine for you,
you'd be a girl with two lovers.

Two? Dozens!

Even better.

Instead of which, you hesitate.
You don't tell me no.

You spend each day with this other guy.

I never know what you're doing.

If you're cooking, do you make him
the same things you did for me?

If you're drinking wine...

If you're stroking his hair...

Listen.

If you won't decide,
I'd rather we brought it to a head.

If you don't come with me today,
well, marry him.

Get married!

You know what that costs me.

But if you're honest,

if you love him,
if he loves you, as you claim,

well, get married.

I'll know there is no hope,
I'll get used to it.

What will you do? Talk to him about it?

Perhaps you've already talked about it?

Yes, we talked about it.

So, what does he want to do? Marry you?

He wants to marry me.

Then go on! Get married, get married!
What are you waiting for?

If you hesitate, it can't be too solid.

Meanwhile, I'm waiting.

If you marry, I'll understand...
But it proves nothing.

It doesn't mean that in a few years...

Listen,

talk to him about this,

tell him that I saw you.

That I want to marry you.

Decide together what to do.

I'll come back. I know where to find you.
You'll give me the answer.

It's been good to see you, I like you.

I really hope you work it out.

Yes, without you.

With another woman, you'd feel better.

That's what you say when it's over.

And not with Marie,
that would be even better.

Curious... I've not stopped suffering.

I wasn't hanging on to you,
but to my pain, trying to hold it,

to keep you near me, to keep us together.

The day I stop suffering,
when I work it out, as you say,

I'll have become someone else,
and I don't want that.

That day,
we'll have lost each other for ever.

You know, I'm no fool.

Time is passing,
I can't fight it for long.

I came today...
but if you don't know what you want,

it may be too late when you do.

I've had enough, I'm tired.

Do you remember the movie
where Michel Simon says:

"Look at the unfaithful wife,
the treacherous friend..."

With that slightly comic grandeur
of great sadness or death.

Oh shit, I've had enough. So long.

I read here in the afternoon.

I plan to do it regularly, like a job.

I cant' read at home.

Georges Bernanos used to say:

"I cannot endure long
without human faces or voices,

I write in cafes".

I don't go that far. I come to read.

He also said he'd do it even more,

if the powerful republics,

didn't tax alcohol so mercilessly.

I have to go. I have an appointment.
What are you doing later?

I'm going home. Stop by afterwards.
Or this evening.

Come in.

Did you see my sculpture?
I did it this morning.

Do you want a drink?

What a question.

I have Pernod Ricard, whiskey,

gin, which you can mix
with London Orange Dry,

and Cognac.

But I've found the King of liquors...

Look.

It's good. It doesn't burn at all.
I can drink half a bottle easy.

May I?

I'll say!

I picked up a girl after I left you.

She was at the "Deux Magots".

She looked at me,
or I wouldn't have noticed her.

I'm only interested if
she's already interested,

even if it's only shown in a glance.

The same way I can't love a
woman who doesn't love me.

She smoked Gauloises.

She wore a Moroccan robe, and no bra.

She got up, I followed her.

I was in a hurry,
so I just asked for the number.

She gave it to me. It's BRE-2327.

It's her work number,
there's an extension.

She said to call between 8:00 and 3:00.

I wonder what she does.

I'd like to find out before I call.

From 8:00 to 3:00...

It's neither a shop, nor an office.

And if I believe your description,

her clothes, the absence of bra,
the "Deux Magots",

there is no way of knowing.

You see what I'm saying.

With the leveling, liberalization,
this kind of equality,

maids, working girls, bourgeois women...

It's all the same.

Finally there won't be any way to tell.

I'd like her to be a maid.

I want to wait a few days before calling.

Let her forget me, not think about it.

I want to surprise her,
show up like Santa Claus.

I did that once.

She's nice enough.

She's blonde,

she has blue eyes...

She looked at me insistently.

That beautiful myopic stare.

I think she has a big ass,
but I'm not sure.

- What are you doing?
- Going out to a cafe, play pinball.

I'll come with you.

Are you here?

I've been shopping,
do you want to eat now?

Yes, something to nibble on.
We'll eat later.

What got into you this morning?
You left early!

Yes, I was awake...
I wanted to see streets, and people.

It's insane, the activity at that hour.

People working, bustling about...

But it's pretend.
At night, there's no one there.

The next morning, they pretend again,
bustling about, arguing...

No one believes it anymore.

That's the advantage of Paris.

Because on top of all that, they're sad.

They don't try to pretend,
like southerners,

with their rotten good humor,
their generosity crap, human kindness.

You didn't meet anyone?

Yes...
I picked up a girl.

I didn't want to tell you.

I wanted to keep it for myself.

But it's funny,
I can't hide anything from you.

How did it go? Is she pretty?
What did you do?

Nothing. I just asked
for her phone number.

Not even a drink?

No, really, it just lasted twenty seconds.

But you'll call her...

Yes... unless I change my mind.

Tell me, will you introduce me to her?

Yes...

If she's worth it.

What are you doing?

Doing the dishes you never do.

- I did the dishes...
- Yes, once.

Yes, because one feels...

A kind of satisfaction
in washing dishes...

A feeling of being useful...

There is something a bit obscene in that.

Disgusting, no?
Being happy from washing dishes.

You asshole, you know I love you.

What do you want to do later?
See a movie?

Is there anything worth seeing?

I don't know. I'll check.

Want to see
The Working Class Goes To Paradise?

"The Working Class Goes To Paradise
by Elio Petri,

"a political film, which denounces
the workers' oppressed condition

"whilst defining a new
concept in human relations.

"Neither tract, reportage nor rhetoric,

"this film is a real film,

"an elaborate, composed, rhythmic work

"which shows the main character's

"obsessions and contradictions:

"His lust for money,

"then his feeling that he is losing control,

"that he is losing his conscience,
his confusion,

"his fits of rage, of insanity."

I'd rather watch TV.

At least Bellemare and Lux show their stupidity.
It's more honest.

Extension 155, please.

- Hello, Veronika, please.
- It's me.

Oh, hello, It's Alexandre. Remember me?

Yes, very well.

- How are you?
- I'm fine.

Is that all you had to say?

Yes.

Want to go out for a drink some day?

Yes

- Well, let's see, when?
- During the week...

Pick a day, I don't care when.

Thursday, if you like, at 4:00.

Thursday! That's a long way off!

I'm very busy.
4:00 at the "Deux Magots"?

All right.

Be there, I hate being stood up.

Oh, I'll be there. See you Thursday.

What is that?

What it looks like. A wheelchair.

I stole it the other night.

You stole it? From whom?

I don't know. Some cripple, no doubt.

Know this?

She's the singer the Germans
tried to promote...

After Marlene Dietrich left.

Like all imitators,
she's better than the original.

She doesn't have her own myth.

Still have your book on the SS?

Yes, sure.

"In the Warsaw ghetto,

the S.D. men defy the rabbis".

"Himmler delivers his speech

on King Henry the Fowler. In 1936."

Know the frog-on-the-ceiling game?

Look in there, the last page.

The have some great games, look.

Look at the frog a minute...

The frog?

Then look at the ceiling.

I'll tell you. Wait, I'll count...

Now look at the ceiling,
you'll see it appear.

Look at the ceiling... See it?

I see it!

The frog...

I regret not having known
the days when girls,

in the streets of our cities,
along country roads,

swooned over soldiers.

The prestige of the uniform.

Nowadays,

they swoon over sports cars...

Nowadays, young businessmen...

Young executives...

Professionals...

Have replaced the military.
I'm not sure it's an improvement.

By the way,
what are you doing tomorrow at 4:00?

Nothing, of course... Why?

I called that girl.

I waited a while before calling her,

and wonder if I made a mistake.
She pretended to be very busy.

Our date is tomorrow.

Want to come along?

It's at 4:00, at the "Deux Magots".

That way, we could work out a strategy.

Yes. But do you think
that's the best tactic?

No, I don't.
But maybe you could come by, casually...

I'll come by. What do I do?

Act as if you're looking for someone.

- No one special?
- No, just a familiar face.

I see you?

That's it.

All right, I'll help you.
But it must be well prepared.

Nothing left to chance.

So decide if I'm to sit,
stand, talk or be quiet.

Absolutely no improvising.

If I'm to talk, tell me what to say.

I'll say whatever you want me to.

I'll recite.

Don't expect anything else.

Whiskey, please.

Here I am. Want a drink?

Yes.

Just passing by,
or did you come to see me?

Just passing by.
I was going to the bookstore. Why?

Oh. Nothing.

Don't you have something to tell me?

Yes.

I'm getting married.

Well, that's fine,
all you had to do was tell me.

When?

Next month. The end of the month.

Oh, then it's right away.
The sooner the better.

- Will you invite me?
- If you like.

- No, decide. Will you invite me or not?
- Yes.

- Will he agree?
- Yes, if I ask him.

There was a song like
that in my childhood...

A girl at the wedding of a man she loved.

I didn't know it would happen to me.

Where is it? At your parents?

We don't know yet.

You're taking care of the legalities?

It's being done.

- And if I opposed your marriage?
- What could you do?

I don't know.
Go to City Hall, say: "I object!"

"I object to this marriage!"

There, it'd be impressive.

You have no reason.

I have.

I love you. And you love me.

That's not valid.

I know.

But, maybe then you'd see
I'm the one you should marry...

No.

I'm just kidding.

But, seriously...

It seems I'll have to wait
longer than I thought.

How long... Five years? Seven years?

- How long does the average marriage last?
- You're really...

What? Look at me.

Look at me.

Can you say you love him more than me?

Oh, please...

You see, you can't say it.

I love him differently.

I'll never love anyone like you.

Now I'm being careful.
I am looking out for myself.

You could with me, too.

And you'd know which way to look.

I don't understand.

Must a man carry one mistake
through his whole life?

Haven't I paid enough?

Why end my hopes when you
don't know what you want?

You aren't sure you love him.

Stop thinking like that!
You've nothing to pay,

or blame yourself for, that's how it is.

You'll live with a man you don't love,

because it's too hard with the one you do.

You're more comfortable like that.

I don't want to harass you,
but there's the whole sex issue...

That's not important to me.

- Don't give me that. Shall I remind you?
- No.

- You see.
- That's not the point.

If I were you, I'd counterattack.

I'd say: "At last I've found love!"

- "At last I know what love is!"
- I could say that.

One can say anything.

I lied to you a few times,
but never to myself.

You're good at convincing yourself
of things that aren't so.

I think you pretend to be a couple.
You're playing the role.

And to avoid facing it, you rush ahead.

I understand very well...

I'd rather you say it's for his money.

- He's broke.
- There, lying again.

A prestigious profession...

A cultural heritage...
One day soon, financial.

But that's fine.

Don't be ashamed, don't deny it.
Money's no disgrace.

The party he belongs to
knows all about that.

Still, you were careful
about falling in love.

You didn't fall in love
with a Portuguese laborer,

or an Algerian, even a French laborer.

You know, one only meets...

Someone from his own class, I know.

But then how did we meet?

Something went wrong...
But now you've set it right.

You've begun to live
an untroubled life again.

You're peaceful.

You think you're recovering,
when you're getting used to mediocrity.

After a crisis,
it's important to forget quickly.

Like France after the Occupation,
or after May '68.

You're rallying like France
after may '68, my love.

Remember?

We said it had been a narrow escape.

That we were lucky to have
a childhood our kids may not.

In this new world where you're old at 17.

Your parents taught children French.
Taught morality.

You'll be an executive's wife.

You'll make a beautiful couple.

Very New Society...
A thief and a criminal...

Chaban can be godfather
to your first child.

But watch out!

You're building on decay.

Families always lose.

Remember that case
I wrote an article about?

The Fauqueux case...

The guy who, every night,

stole in under the nose of
the police to see his wife?

People as beautiful
as a Nicholas Ray film.

Remember, I said when
Fauqueux got out of prison,

the little girl he kidnapped
would be 18 or 19 years old.

And I said that even if
her parents hide it,

She'll learn, maybe at school,
that a man's in prison for her.

A girl grows up
and already a man's in prison for her.

She'll piece the story together.

And if she's beautiful, God willing,

I bet she meets him at the prison gate.

I don't see what else she can do.

I mention this because I had an idea...

Have a girl quickly,
one who looks like you,

with your hair, your eyes.

And in 18 or 19 years, we'll see...

One sees girls with men
their father's age and people get furious.

I think it's fine.

Have a seat?

- How are you?
- Fine.

- We don't see you much more anymore.
- I've moved.

I'm leaving now.

- You're not fair.
- That's right, I'm not fair.

See you.

She didn't show but Gilberte came by.

There must be a reason.
There's no such thing as chance.

- Still waiting?
- No.

One thing I like:

She said on the phone,
she hates being stood up.

She must be nice!

- Will you call her?
- Oh, yes, absolutely!

I'm writing you,
and I've lost your address.

- Can I have it?
- What?

I'm writing you,
and I've lost your address.

Can I have it, please?

René Laennec, rue de Sevres.

Extension 155, please.

Could I speak to Veronika, please?

She's out. Who's calling?

When can I reach her?

You didn't say who's calling.

It's Alexandre.

Can you take a message?

Ask her to call Alexandre at FON-8295?
By noon?

I'll tell her.

- Can I speak to Alexandre?
- Just a minute, please.

Hello, it's me.

This is Veronika Osterwald.

I'm really sorry about yesterday,
but I couldn't get away.

There was an emergency,
it was just impossible.

Are you furious?

Not at all. In fact, I'm delighted.

- Are you kidding me?
- No, really.

It doesn't matter at all.

I'm not mad at you, on the contrary.

But... perhaps we could try it again,
if I dare say.

With one difference...
This time, I hope you'll come.

Well. This evening, if you can make it.

Oh, I can do what I want.

This evening then? Where?

Let's say 5:00, same place.

Fine. See you then.

- See you then.
- Bye.

Need a light?

- Are you the girl I'm meeting?
- No.

I'm meeting a girl I don't know...
it could've been you.

- It isn't.
- Are you sure?

Yes.

- I'm not wrong?
- No.

I was afraid I wouldn't know you.

You aren't mad about yesterday?
I'm really sorry.

I hope you didn't wait long...

Yes.

I waited quite a while.
But it doesn't matter.

When I got here, I looked around,

I saw a guy who looked like me.
Then he was gone.

I thought maybe you went
with him by mistake.

No, I wouldn't have done that.

So you waited a long time. I'm sorry.

I told you, it doesn't matter.
In fact, it worked out well.

I hadn't been stood up in a long time.
I'd forgotten the phrase.

You brought it back like
other things you never hear.

For example, you never hear
the word 'lemonade' any more.

No one says:

"I had an excellent lemonade at lunch".

I thought of that while waiting for you,
and after, as I stayed on,

I said, "If she comes, I'll talk about lemonade,"

to see how you'd react.

I've never known how strangers
can make conversation.

It's best to sit there in silence,

or talk a lot, which is the same.

But to grope for words,
trying this and that... Why?

As a rule, you know,

I'm attracted to women
for exterior reasons...

that have nothing to do with them.

Draped on them like a robe,

a coat, one might drape on someone else.

I might like a woman
because she was in a Bresson film,

or a man I admire is in love with her.

What greater tribute can one pay a man
one admires, than to take his woman?

By not coming yesterday,

you gave me that to talk about today.

Yesterday, I'd have had nothing.

You've created something between us.

Don't you agree?

I don't know.

If I'm boring you, stop me.

Oh, not at all.

- We can talk about the weather, or Women's Lib.
- What's that?

You don't know?
"The Women's Liberation Movement".

Women tired of serving men breakfast in bed.

They've rebelled. They have a slogan:

"No more men in our beds!"

- That's sad...
- Yes, I think they're very sad...

I like bringing a man I love, breakfast in bed.

I have a friend who believes...

that a woman's function is
to bring him breakfast.

I heard him say so to a
raving women's libber.

I thought there'd be a blood-bath.

In fact, he seduced her,
talking about his grandma,

who spent her life doing housework,

and raising children and grandchildren.

Now, she can't live without him!

By the way, what's your name?

I didn't catch it over the phone.

Veronika Osterwald.
It's a German name, but I'm Polish.

I'm an anesthetist at Laennec Hospital.
I live there.

I have a garret room.

So you never leave there?

I had a place... couldn't afford it.

And I like my room.

I'm not there much. I often do night duty.

It pays under the table... badly.
And when I have money, I spend it.

I go to nightclubs.

- Do you?
- No, not much.

- Don't like them?
- I don't know.

Why do you go?

To dance. I love it...

To drink, see people, to not be alone.

Are you alone?

Oh, I'm easy to pick up, as you know.

But when I see them again,
usually nothing happens.

There's no spark.

I have to go get ready.
I have a night shift, in the suburbs.

Want to have dinner some night
when you're off duty?

I'd pay you the night shift fee!

I'd like to.

When?

I don't know...
Call me on Tuesday at 1:00.

Tuesday? That's a long way off!

All right, call me sooner.

No, I'll obey. Tuesday at 1:00.

Hello?

- FON-9572?
- Yes.

Is Marie there?

No, she isn't.

Is she at the shop?

Not today.

But she is in Paris?

Yes, she's in Paris.

Want to leave a message?

Could you tell her
Philippe Desbons called?

I'll tell her.

She'll be here tomorrow...
around 10:00 or 11:00.

- All right. Thank you.
- Bye.

- Hello, Marie, how are you?
- Fine.

You'll be even better. I have good news.

- What is it?
- Philippe just called.

Philippe... Desbons?

I didn't get his last name too well.
Looks good, eh?

What does that mean?

It just means I'm happy for you.

You have it all wrong.

If you want me to pack,
tell me now, so I know...

That's ridiculous, it's nothing.

Whatever you like.
I don't want to be in the way.

Don't worry about me.
Today everything's fine.

Yes? Oh, you're back?

Yes. How are you?

Yes, me too...

Wherever you like...

Whenever you like...

What about "La Coupole" at 2:00?

Good.

Me too.

See you then.

You've got it all wrong about Philippe and me.

It was no big deal, for either of us.

It's not my business.

That night I kept calling.
You were there, you didn't answer.

You were with Gilberte.
How many nights have I waited for you?

I'm not with Gilberte now,
I live with you.

May I know your intentions?
What are your plans?

I'd like to see him now and then.

And that won't change things?

Nothing's changed!
I love you, I live with you.

And you'll fuck him now and then?

Listen, I haven't fucked him.

Oh yes, so you've said...

But I don't suppose you'll just
be gazing in each other's eyes.

I have no desire to fuck him.

It's a desire that can come on fast.

When the woman you love
fucks a friend, it's tough.

But you can live with it.

But when she fucks,
gets turned on as you like to say,

by a guy you can't stand,
she puts you on the same level.

You don't even know him!
You've got him all wrong!

Anyway, whatever I say...
Do what you have to.

I'm busy tonight.

Going out with the nurse?

Yes, with the nurse.

Going out to eat?

Eat, have a drink, I'm not sure...

You can afford to take a girl out,

but you can never manage it with me.

- Have your new boyfriend take you.
- I don't have a new boyfriend!

Your next boyfriend then.

You can sure say some dumb things.

Pass the bottle.

I understand your desire to seduce women.

Knowing them is the point, not seducing.

But you won't understand I can
want to know someone too!

I'm not turned on to those lofty spheres.

I operate in the everyday world, the banal...

I don't mean sex.
Even if I meant, it takes two.

I have every confidence in you, my dear.

You're sweet...

Well, I won't be too late.
Will you be here?

You'll see.

Enjoy yourself!

You seem tired, or in a bad mood.

We could meet some other day.

No, I'm all right.

But are you always free?
No wife, no mistress, no friend?

We could talk about that later,
or another time...

But why do you ask?

No reason.

And what about you? No ties, no husband?

Right now, I'm free...

- Like it?
- Very much. I hope it lasts.

Why?

End of some great romance? Tired?
Did you live with a man?

Yes, I lived with a man.

- It's over?
- Yes, It's over.

What went wrong?

I cheated on him. I'm very demanding.

I always expect too much
and I'm always let down.

- Haven't you lived with a woman?
- Oh yes...

It didn't work either?

Off and on.

And finally, not at all.

Why?

I don't know.

I guess I got day and night confused.

People are beautiful at night...
Like Paris.

Paris is very beautiful at night,

trimmed of the ugly fat of traffic.

I cut the world in two...

I came to love night people.

I spent my time drinking,
gambling, making love.

I had a bit of money...

When I have money, I don't do a thing,

I hate people's attitude
of always wanting more.

In the mornings,
I'd have a last drink in the cafes...

with the people who'd
just woken up and washed,

faces heavy with sleep, going to work.

And I'd go home.
She'd wake up to go to work.

She'd wake me at night when she came in.

I never saw the daylight in winter.

Bit by bit, we lost track
of each other's lives.

She was lovely, like the day,

but I loved women with a night beauty.
And I ran out of money.

- So she left.
- That's not so great.

I don't know.

Want to stay here?

I don't care.

Are you hungry?

Me neither.

But we could get away from the noise
of this chicken-coop.

I like this place.

When I'm in a bad mood, I come here.

I'm their best customer.

Usually, it's just people in transit.

Like a F. W. Murnau film.

F. W. Murnau films are always about
transition from city to country,

day to night. There's all that here.

To the right, trains, the country...

To the left, the city.

From here,
there seems to be not one speck of earth.

Nothing but concrete, stone and cars.

I don't like this light.

Are you uncomfortable? You seem restless.

I do feel restless.

There are those who say:
"The important thing is inner harmony".

I heard a creep say that on TV recently.

When you hear that kind of thing,

look at the person...

They have one point in common.
A bovine quality.

Though I like these cud-chewers...

They chew things over.

A good trait.
Chewing on a word, an idea.

Excuse me,
but I have the feeling I'm boring you.

Did you look at me?

Yes.

I find you very beautiful.

Do I seem like someone who's bored?

No, but women are such liars...

And what about you?
Who are you, how do you live?

Boredom is all right.

Like that sect of heretics,

Borges talks about,

for whom life's essence is in boredom.

Not in faith, or enthusiasm,
but boredom... the void.

It makes sense to me.
By the way, I've done a self-portrait.

HAIR... FOREHEAD... EYEBROWS... EYES...

Recognize me?

It's my only certificate of existence.

But sometimes I'm happy.

Now, for instance,

being here, with you.

Even if I did borrow the money for coming here.

You're crazy to come here if
you don't have any money!

Not having money is no reason to eat badly.

I used to steal books as a child.

I claimed poverty was no
reason not to be cultivated.

There are people rich enough to do nothing,
who do things.

They even do good things...
Make movies, for instance.

So they seem to be earning a living.

I don't mind that they take work from others.

We must always encourage injustice.

But they think they contribute something!

Their "creation"...

Enriching the world... What a system!

Is that good?

- A bit tough, perhaps?
- It's all right.

And what is this wine?

Not bad!

You know,

eating cold things,
you taste the cold, not the flavor.

When you eat hot things,
you taste the heat, not the flavor.

When it's something hard,
it's the hardness, not the flavor.

When it's liquid,
you feel the liquidity...

Not the flavor.

So,

you have to eat lukewarm, soft things.

You see, it's dark now.

It's better now.

Talk to me.

About yourself.

When you finish work,
what do you do in your room?

I sit drearily on my big bed, watching TV.

I take my shower during the news.

Very organized.

You've found a way...

to hear the news from under the shower?

You don't know nurses' rooms.

The shower is down at the end of the hall.

Things don't mean much to me.

When I go out, I spend the night
in bars and clubs a lot...

I drink, it doesn't mean anything.

If I meet a guy, I go with him,
there's no problem.

I can fuck with anyone.

How long do these adventures last?

An hour? A night? Longer?

An hour, a night...
I turn a lot of people off.

That's normal.

You have to turn some people off
to turn others on.

My neck and shoulders are soft.

I have pretty breasts.

And I don't like thin thighs on girls.
Do you?

Don't look like that.

Life is beautiful, marvelous.

Don't you see? Look at the horrible sky!

- Two scotches.
- And a Coke.

You can't imagine what
assholes interns are...

In the off-duty room...
They talk about their bosses,

the girls they've fucked, or will fuck.

Their sports cars -
motorcycles these days...

At first, I fucked these assholes,
I fucked a lot of doctors.

I always drink whiskey with Coke.

Once, in the operating room,
an intern said to me:

"Veronika, there is a patient
who needs to be undressed".

So I take my kit and off I go.

I was in the elevator,
not paying attention,

and I realize we're not going there at all.

It was his ploy to fuck me.

So I took out my Tampax,
fucked him and went on back to work.

Later he wanted to do it again,
I said: "Once is enough".

I thought...
I haven't been in a hospital since I was a child.

I remembered nurses as hard, insensitive,

totally unaffected by suffering and misery,

and I liked that hardness,

that lack of compassion for human misery.

You're right. That's it exactly.

Do you wear a white uniform with patients?

And a veil.

Oh, like a nun. I'd like to see that.

That's easy. Don't you have
anything that needs operating on?

A lung?

Lungs are very pretty. They're all pink.

A lung... no.

But a friend of mine had a great idea.

He wanted to have his right hand cut off.

Seriously.

He wanted to go see a surgeon and say:
"How much will it cost?"

And have a false one put in its place.

And at home, in one room,

alone in the center of the room,
the hand in formaldehyde,

with a plaque: My hand... 1940-1972.

And people would come to see it.

- Funny...
- Yes, it's fine.

But... would a surgeon do it?

No, I don't think so.

I'm tired of it here. Let's go.

- Another drink?
- No. Let's go.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

Can I call you?

If you like.

I don't want to go back. I want to walk.

I could walk all night with you.

I'd like to go down by the water.

You mean down by the Seine?

By the water.

See you soon?

It won't be easy.
I have a lot of nights shifts. I need money.

To drink?

To drink, to buy clothes,
to be beautiful.

I wish you would say:

"To drink, to buy clothes,
to be beautiful...

because you see, my dear, I'm in love."

I'm often in love.

I get involved with people quickly
and forget quickly.

People don't matter.

I love someone a month, two,
three months, and that's it.

When it's good, it's good.
Then, it's over.

Call me, if you like.

You too.

- Still have my number?
- Yes.

So, it went well?

Yes.

You had dinner?

Yes.

- In a Chinese restaurant?
- Yes, yes.

- By the Pantheon?
- Yes.

- So, you had a good time?
- Yes.

Now that's enough.
If you want to pick a fight, I'll leave now.

To hell with that!

As you once said,
"I despise people who suffer in silence."

Besides, you smell of "Bandit".

I hate that scent.

You reek of it.

I can see you had a good time.

Oh, don't touch me. Go wash!

- You're ridiculous.
- To hell with that!

I walked around all night,
hoping to see you.

If I had, I'd have said "I love you".

In front of that girl and everyone.
Anywhere.

I'd have said,
"I love you. Stop this game, you'll ruin us!"

And I imagined you'd drop everything
and we'd go off together.

Okay. I'm going to wash.

Veronica telephoned twice.

You gave her the number?

Yes.

- What did she say?
- Nothing.

She asked for you. She'll call back.

She wouldn't give her name.

Sure it was her?

Look, a girl who won't give her name...

Let me tell you, I don't like her voice!

I hadn't noticed.
I think her voice is fine.

Hello? Yes, hold on. It's her.

Hello? Did you sleep well?

No, not at all...

Yes, I'd love to.

When?

Tonight at the "Flore", at 8:00? Fine.

See you then.

Thing are going well.

Think so?

Yes, you're super-nice with her.

Oh, you're jealous...

Go on, I love it when you're jealous.

No, it's just been a long time since
you've talked to me that nicely.

Maybe you just don't listen.

But go on...
I love it when you're jealous.

I've told you: I love you because
you are the only one who makes me laugh.

- Me?
- Yes.

You can laugh or cry, it doesn't matter.

I love you because you make me laugh.

So laugh!

What do you plan to do with her?

Nothing.

What should I do? Not go?

Tell her: "We can't see each other,
too many problems?" and do what?

Stay here, watch TV, listen to the radio.

Wait for a phone call?

Dial the time to hear a human voice?

I'm a poor, mediocre young man.

A poor, mediocre girl wants to see me.

I like that.

And I won't give it up, whatever happens!

And you know I'm not thinking about sex.

Still... that'll come, won't it?

What's the difference,

dipping your sex in one pool or another?

But that hurts...

I know.

Hello. Is that a new jacket?

Yes. Don't ask!

I went into a shop,

and got intimidated by a huge salesman.

He was a good 6'4.

He sold me what he wanted to...

I knew it didn't suit me,
but I took it anyway.

When I left, I bought another one...
too big.

So now I've got a tight jacket
for which I have to lose weight,

and a large one for which
I have to gain weight.

I should get very fat.

Yes, fat is fine.

Fat and bald.

I had an atrocious day.

After that, to calm down,
I went to buy Offenbach's La Belle Helene,

and on the way back,
I ran into a girl I know slightly,

who's very curious...

and I thought, she'll say
"What's that you're carrying?"

and I'd say, "La Belle Helene.
Come up and listen."

But she didn't say anything.

So I said, "Know what I've got here?"

And she said:
"No, and I don't really care".

So I said, "Well, I'll tell you.
La Belle Helene by Offenbach".

Want to come hear it?

And she said "No, I'm busy

and anyway I don't give a shit."

I went home, alone,
listened to it, alone...

I was really... mad.

Oh, I ran into Freak.

He was all in green...

Green jacket, green shirt,

green pants, green shoes.

Even smoking green Gauloises.

I said, "How are you?"

And he said, "How am I? Can't you see?

I'm in green, and against everything!"

I thought that was pretty good.
I wish I could say it, but...

As you see, I'm in black.
In black and against everything.

It doesn't have the same ring.

Good evening.

Good evening. Excuse me.

How are you?

What a question. Lousy, of course.

Maybe you'd rather not see me.

If I bother you, tell me to take a walk.

It won't be the first time.

A Ricard.

A J&B.

No, it's not that.

I wanted to see you,
but it's not so simple.

I'm broke and I don't know what to
do without money, or where to go.

But that isn't important.

When you like the people,
a coffee is fine.

Just talk, or stay quiet.

No, I don't think so.

It's not very serious.

I want to be with you,
but not feeling uneasy.

Unless you look forward
to an evening in silence in a bar or cafe...

It's not bad, but it's something else.

So...

I've thought of something.

Do what you like, it's the best I can offer.

Want to come up to the apartment
of the woman I live with?

You may know her.
I think that dress is from her shop.

And she's a good cook.

There's wine, whiskey, even Coke.

Music, television.

We can sit nicely and watch TV.
Sounds good?

And if you don't like it, you can go.

Two things were left out
of the Bill of Rights...

The right to change one's mind and to leave.

Want to come?

- Yes.
- Good. I'll go call.

- Good evening.
- Hello.

- Want a drink?
- Yes.

- A drink?
- Sure.

- I'll bring it.
- All right.

What do you want to listen to?

Anything you like.

Can I help your friend?

No, no. I'll go.

Where to?

Anywhere.

No, I don't know.

You don't like my ideas, you decide.

Want to go to a nightclub?

No, but I'll drop you off if you like.

You won't come?

No. It bores me and I'm broke.

I'm not.

Yes, but...

I don't want to.

Then take me down by the water.

If you like.

I'm furious.

Yes, I know.

I screw up sometimes.

I'll take you home.

And if you want to call me one of these days,

I'd like that.

I like your eyes,

and your mouth,

and your smile.

I never laugh.

You have a nice smile.

Don't you want me?

I don't know...

You'd have fucked me, back then?

I'm not sure.

Since we met,
I've had erotic dreams about you...

I get the feeling you're good in bed.

It depends on the day, and the opinion.

Want to make love to me?

- Right here?
- Why not?

No-no.

We're being watched.

Watched?

Haven't you noticed?
There are people going by.

Waiting for us to make love.

I don't see a soul.

Who are these people?

Voyeurs, homosexuals, cops...

Maybe all three combined.

That bothers you?

I must seem very conventional,

but it bothers me a lot.

Don't you like my breasts?

I do.

I'll take you home.

So, you went off and got laid?

No, sorry to disappoint you.

I stayed here.

Three hours to get her home...
Not bad, eh?

I don't like her!

I don't like her voice, her face,
her skin, her fat ass,

her way of saying "Easy, friends".
Disgusting!

I should have realized it wouldn't work.
I knew it.

She wants your body, that's obvious.

- Think so?
- Oh come on, you know it!

Like her breasts?

Very nice, that's her only good feature.

I like her voice too.
And her face isn't bad.

If you like her that much,
fuck her, while I'm in London!

Use the apartment, screw her in peace.

You'd let me bring her here?

Do what you like!

You going to see your dyke friends?

Look, I'm going to buy for the shop!

By the way, if you're going to London,

could you pick out some flannel for me?

Something in brown... or blue.

With white pin-stripes.

There's no secret to flannel.
It's all in the price.

Can you lend me the money?
I'll pay back when I can.

I want the kind of suit...

that makes people who don't
know anything about it

think the wearer has natural elegance.

They ascribe the elegance
of the suit to the person.

It all gets confused.

Mick Jagger, Rene Biaggi...

- Alexandre? Did I wake you?
- Yes.

I'm sorry. I'll call back later.

No, now that I'm awake, go ahead.

I called to say I'd like to see you.

Sure. Where, when?

You're not mad?
I said a lot of stupid things yesterday.

Forget it.

Stupid things? I don't remember.

You don't? So much the better.

Can I see you?

Sure, what time?

I have some errands.
I can be at the "Flore" at 7:00.

All right... fine. I'll be there.

There may be a man with me.

Don't scream, come to our table.

If there's a man, what do I do?

Come to our table. He won't stay long.

I don't know what to say.

I won't ad-lib, tell me exactly.

Say what you like.
If you don't want to talk, don't.

Sure he's not big, strong and mean?

No, don't be scared.
Or come at 7:15, I'll be alone then.

Hello! I'll be there, in any case.

You know, you're starting
to weigh on my mind...

- I hope I'm not too heavy.
- Well, see you then.

I'LL BE BACK IN 2 OR 3 DAYS.

DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID,
I'LL THINK OF YOU.

WATER THE PLANTS IN THE KITCHEN.

Alexandre!

Are you waiting for anyone?

You're dressed nicely. What happened?

I broke a glass...

It suits you.
A bandage makes a nice accessory.

What's up? We never see you.

I was in the States,
but I came back six months ago.

That's a long way. What did you do there?

I was with a guy.

- With your priest?
- Yes.

You're still with him?

No, he stayed there...

I was in New York,
what an awful place.

You can't imagine...

I was afraid to go out,
even in the daytime!

Once, an amputee tried to pick me up.

He wheeled after me, real fast,

he looked mean, and he said

"Yeah, you won't go with me
cause I'm an amputee."

I didn't know what to say... I said:

"No, no. It's because I have a fiancé."

Tell me about your priest.

I never knew him too well.
Was he a real one?

I never knew either.

I think about those things a lot.

Remember the guy who used
to be around Montparnasse?

Belmondo's double.
We called him the "Imitation Belmondo".

At first, his imitation seemed a bit ridiculous.

But with persistence over the years,
he perfected it,

until he was more real than the real one.

If you really want to,
you can take over someone's personality,

steal his soul.

Belmondo is now the caricature of his double.

Not his caricature, his shadow.

They should have used them in William Wilson.

Say, what's happened to everybody
we used to see a few years ago?

I don't move, I'm still here.

There's no one left. They've vanished.

The girls of all those days and nights.

You, Michelle, Françoise...

In vanishing, you've taken a bit of my life.

Michelle committed suicide.

I know.

I botched my suicide.

Listen, I cannot not take suicide seriously.

Not more than death, or no less,
how does one say?

So talk suicide all you like,
if I laugh, it's from fear.

Françoise is with an American.

When a girl lives with a guy,
she lets everything drop.

I guess she feels a rebirth,
a new beginning.

Staying with one man, you rob the rest.

Everything all over the world must
have been directed against me.

There was the Cultural Revolution,
May '68,

The Rolling Stones, the Black Panthers,
the Palestinians, the Underground.

And for a few years, nothing.

Look... nothing in fashion,
in film, nothing.

Pop music's religious
and I only like popular music.

Mozart, the Rolling Stones, Edith Piaf...

By the way, I do have good news.

You know Ferrand,
the guy I couldn't stand?

He's dead, like that,
in the flower of youth.

He crossed me.
He married a girl I'd gone out with.

I've noticed, people who cross
me always have bad luck.

How do you like that girl?

Not bad.

We have a date, she hasn't seen me.

I don't know what I'll do.

Oh, I'll go on over. Be right back.

- Hello.
- Hello. Won't you sit down?

I'm over there with a friend.
Come when you like.

A friend?

So now what? What are you going to do?

When will we meet again? In five years?

I'm fed up. My guy's jealous.

I'd like to cheat on him.

Listen, if you want to cheat on him,

don't do it with just anybody.
You never know who it'll turn out to be.

If you think about it seriously, call me.

No, call me, I'd be pleased.

Is that the man you told me about?

No.

- You were alone?
- Yes.

You seemed to be exchanging phone numbers.

That's right.

But I don't like being spied on.

Want to stay here,
or go down by the river?

Hear music at my place?

At your place?
With your old mistress?

How is she?

Fine, I guess. She's in London.

Let's go. I want to hear that
Marlene Dietrich record.

Wait...

You'll push my Tampax in!

That's it.

Shit! Now I've got to go
back to the gynecologist,

and say, in my sweet little voice:

"I don't know what happened,
I lost my Tampax."

Shit, do you realize,
it could come out of my nostrils!

It's your fault.
You just had to take it out.

Can't we spend a night without fucking?

I said I didn't want to fuck.

I can't stay like this.

Give me a feel. Try to get the Tampax out.

I don't know how.

You idiot!
Grope, and if you feel something, pull it out.

I'm afraid I'll hurt you.

No, it won't hurt.
Can't you do anything?

What did you say?

"Give me a feel"?

Oh, stop laughing.
It's not funny, I assure you.

Well...

I'll try.

- I think I feel something...
- Then pull!

Ah, here it is.

Give me that.

I'm calling a friend.
I've got to tell him this.

I can't keep it to myself, it's too funny!

You're not going to tell...

Yes, there can be no secrets.

He's not there.

Too bad.

You have beautiful veins.
I'd love to give you shots.

How do you want to make love?

Tenderly... or violently?

Either way.

No, tell me.

Once, a girl told me:

"I don't want to make love this way.

You're too brutal... be more gentle".

So say, how do you want to make love?

Tenderly?

Or violently?

Either way, I like them both.

Veronika?

Hello Alexandre, it's Veronika.

Hello. What time did you leave?

At 6:00.

You could've woken me to say goodbye.

As I recall,
you like to wake up by yourself.

I talked too much again. That's all right.

I work till 5:00.
Want to go to the movies afterwards?

I don't know if there's anything to see.

I like horror movies. Old vampire movies.
They're so ridiculous.

No, I like down-to-earth films.
Like a Fernandel movie.

Fernandel? To please you,
I'd be willing to see a good film.

What do you mean by good film?

Carne's Les Visiteurs Du Soir, maybe...

What?

"What heart that beats, that beats?"

No. All elegists are creeps.

Well, we'll see...

Can we meet at 6:00 at the "Flore"?

See you tonight at 6:00. Kisses.

I told you I couldn't live with anyone,
but still, I try hard.

You know, the lover I used to live with...

He loved yogurt.

He loved it, so I bought about thirty.

I went into this supermarket
in the neighborhood.

I got nothing but yogurt.

I remember I came staggering home
with two huge bags.

I thought,

"Oh, wow, will he flip out when
he opens the refrigerator."

But he said:

"But Veronika...

all this yogurt. That's a bit weird."

And me thinking
he'd be so happy and all...

"A bit weird.".

Where did you live?

I was in a room in the 17th district,
rue des Acacias.

I was evicted for making a lot of racket.

The good thing with him was
that we spent our time fucking.

One time, he had the flu
and I had prepared to go to work.

With care because there was a guy
at the hospital that I liked.

He was in bed, and he said to me...

Oh, what was it...

"Look, I've got a hard-on!"

So I said yes, kind of stupidly,

and I was really pleased, of course,

so we fucked before I left.

Then I was late and I called my supervisor.

I told her I'd done the night shift
and had overslept.

And what made me laugh,

was when I got there, she said to me:

"Ah, Veronika I can see you've slept well,

you look very healthy".

That old lover...

He loved yogurt and wanted me to say,
"I love you."

He'd say:

"Veronika,

tell me you love me,

tell me you love me".

So I'd tell him:

"I love you. I love you".

One day, I remember,
he said something terrible:

"Your body is a garden ".

And he loved to browse
in that tufted old garden.

The pleasure he found was forever new.

It was very funny.

♪ There aren't any fortresses anymore

♪ But there'll always be songs ♪

I know some old songs too.

Do you know this one?

♪ Just simply like a rose

♪ That you pick one day without a reason

♪ You have taken my somber heart

♪ By passing in front of my house

♪ My heart is an autumn flower

♪ Without knowing why or how

♪ You have taken it

♪ I just simply

♪ Give it to you ♪

You embarrass me.

I think it's time for the Sunrise Preacher.

He's already started.

Our century, friends, is a lazy one.

Most people have but one
sedentary occupation.

They do not get enough exercise.
They do not even walk enough.

In this era of machines
which respond to the push of a button,

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"The World to Come",

Europe 1,

P.O. Box 150,

Paris 8, France.

And so, friends,
this is the Sunrise Preacher,

saying goodbye... for now.

I often listen to him,
when I'm not sleeping.

I have for years.

He never varies in the slightest.

His pitch is always the same.

For years, he's signed
off in the same way...

"And so, friends,
this is the Sunrise Preacher,

saying goodbye... for now".

I don't know if he's large or small,

fat, or thin, bald or bearded...

He's just a voice.

Like the man of June 18th.

For four years, he was just a voice!

Shall we breakfast at "Mahieu's"?

It's a little place on St. Michel
that opens at 5:25.

You see some great people at that hour.

People who talk like books,

like dictionaries...

In their delivery of each word,
they bring out its full meaning.

No slang, none of the verbal shorthand
of weekly news magazines.

I remember hearing an Arab say,

pronouncing each syllable:

"Apparently black women

make love in an extraordinary manner.

When the man introduces his sexual organ

into the woman's vagina,

apparently the heat is like a furnace.

I was told that by a
colonial administrator".

I'd like to talk like that.

I can do it a bit,
but I'd like to master it totally.

Suddenly, in the midst
of a conversation, say:

"Apparently black women

make love in an extraordinary manner.

When the man introduces his sexual
organ into the woman's vagina,

apparently the heat is like a furnace.

I was told that by a
colonial administrator".

To speak with the words of others...
That's what I'd like.

That's what freedom must be.

I remember a park guard,

who we thought was a cop

because his uniform
was like a policeman's.

He used to pose riddles.

He'd say:

"Which district is the dirtiest in Paris?"

People would say:

- "The 1st?"
- "No, not the 1st".

- "The 4th?"
- "No, not the 4th".

"It's the 16th!"

So people would say, "Ok, why?"

"Because they pick up shit in buckets"

Or he'd ask:
"Do you know the best way to place a bet?"

"With your wife".

And people: "Why?"

"Because you can win with a betting slip
or with no slip at all!"

There was another story he told,

but I forget it.

There was a guy, searching for apartment,

who ran into a guy discussing
the existence of God.

He told him:

"Mister, I'm hunting for an apartment,

That's more important than seeking God!"

A group of deaf-mutes
made an appalling racket.

Another group appeared to be plotting,
the Serbo-Croats...

It turned out they were Serbo-Croats.

One day in May '68,

the cafe was crowded,

and everyone was crying.

A whole cafe, crying.

It was beautiful.

A tear-gas bomb had exploded.

If I hadn't been going there every morning,
I'd have seen none of that.

But there, before my very eyes,

a crack in reality opened up...

It's too late, let's not go.

I'm afraid...

I'm afraid it'll all be gone...

I'm afraid...

I wouldn't want to die.

Funny way to make a bed.

I saw it done in a film.

Films teach you how to live,
how to make a bed.

You should change the sheets,
they're dirty and bloody...

No, I won't change them.
It could arouse suspicion.

I think Marie's back.

Didn't you know?

No. Today, tomorrow... I wasn't sure.

She'll see I've been there.

I think she already knows.

What'll you say?

I don't know. I'll see.

- Taking me home?
- Yes.

So, it's over...

I read at the "Flore" in the afternoons.

You could happen by there.

Or you could call me.

Ok, drive carefully.

When did you get back?

At 11:00. I went by "La coupole",
to see if you were there.

- You could've called.
- It was a surprise.

Nice, but I couldn't have known.

I can see you weren't bored.

The place reeks of her perfume.

You had quite a party,
glasses, bottles...

And she slept here.
Those breakfast cups.

I could hardly kick her out.

- Not in the middle of the night!
- Yes.

And all that time, I was thinking of you.

Well, me too.

Shit! While fucking another girl!

You know you hurt me,

and you don't give a fuck!

Are you hurt, or pretending?

You're never very serious.

You can do better than that.

See, it's simple.

I know your "charming little boy" routine...

I'm not bad at scenes, either.

- Sheets need changing.
- So change them.

Don't you want to help?

Fend for yourself.

I see you knocked over an ashtray
in your frenzy.

Frenzy... let's not exaggerate,
it was fairly calm.

Even the cushions smell. Disgusting!

I'm going to sleep in the other room.

- Alone?
- Whatever you like.

FRENCH GIRL WANTED FOR MURDER IN VIENNA

It's not a good likeness.
They won't find her with this.

Think she should have killed him?

I don't think so.
It wouldn't be very smart of her.

No, I don't think she should have.

She does amazing things.

Last time I saw her,
she had a bandaged hand.

Another time, she had a bad foot.
She hopped along on her good one.

She always comes up with something new.

Ah, Veronika's here. I'll introduce you.

- Leaving?
- Yes.

Still going to Ostende,
like Léo Ferré's song?

No. I changed my mind.

I'm going to Hamburg,
like in the Piaf song.

- Got a car?
- Yes, yes.

Can you drive me to the airport?

Sure, no problem. What time?

In forty-five minutes.

The Drunk's here.

There's Sartre in the corner...

He drinks a lot. Look at his table.

You're wrong. He just has half a bottle.

Yes. He's clever.

He orders half bottles, to throw you off.

But the number of them!

He always staggers out, you'll see.

I think his philosophical positions -

"Maoism", "The People's Cause"
are so much drunken talk.

The other day, I nearly said:

"Aren't you ashamed,
getting so drunk, with a Nobel Prize?"

You can't take him seriously anymore.

Not long ago, he talked to some workers.
He was perched on a barrel.

- He always brings it.
- Chance doesn't exist.

- He's Maoist because China's red.
- Like wine.

Look...

She's a friend.

You saw her here with me the other day.

It's funny, seeing someone you know
wanted for something like murder.

I knew another girl who killed a guy.

But she killed herself too.

She did it beautifully.

They went to a hotel. They made love.

She waited till he was asleep,
shot him in the heart,

then shot herself in the mouth.
She was a nurse, like you.

She always did an incredible number,
which she did badly.

But in the long run, the phonier you are,
the further you go.

Phoniness is the hereafter.

In retrospect, I was scared,
because I'd dated her earlier.

- You got off easy.
- Yes, a stroke of luck.

But in fact,
she was never in love with me.

A good thing.

Still, the girls I know are
ready to fire when necessary.

Sensational stuff, murderers,

are always rather abstract
in the papers...

But in your own life,
it's not the same thing.

I think the streets are full of murderers.

Not potential murderers, real ones.

Especially in France.

It's another plot against me.
What else could it be?

The women who committed suicide,
the ones who went off with guys...

And now this one,
who has to hide or go to jail.

And if one holds abortion to be a crime,

I know dozens, hundreds of murderers
and their accomplices.

The streets are really full of murderers.

And they feel fine.

If you reproached them,
they'd be astonished.

They feel no remorse,
quite the contrary. Relief.

Police, justice, prison... What for?

With a new President, people talk of amnesty.
But that's wrong.

The only real amnesty...

would be to open all the
prison doors at once.

And the criminals would stream out like rats.

Yes-yes. They could even be led by Duclos,
the king of rats.

In small groups. Or one by one.
Coming down Boulevard Raspail.

They'd come and settle in here.

How awful! Stop!

They'd go everywhere. Your place.

Why my place? Why not your place?

I, fortunately don't have a place.

Excuse me. It's time for me to go.

I can take a taxi if you stay here.

No, I'll come with you.

See you soon, I hope.

- Bye.
- Bye.

I keep imposing myself on you.
Very rude of me.

Perhaps you want to be alone.
Or you're expecting someone...

The same.

Do you realize?

If Mr. Right walked by,

you might miss him because of me.

A heavy responsibility.

Why do you think I come here every day?

I don't know.

To meet Mr. Right!

Didn't you realize?

- Today, I have a date.
- Then I'll leave.

No, it's with a friend,
but she's always late.

But you can stay... you might like her.

- What's she like?
- Pretty-ish.

- She's had many lovers.
- I don't know.

Women like that are never that pretty.

And I hate to mix in conversations.

I'll go read in a corner when she comes.

I come here to read, you know.
And with you here, I never have time.

- The rest of the day?
- I don't have time.

I'm a busy man.

Back to Mr. Right,
if you want my opinion,

I don't think you'll meet him soon.

- You think so?
- Yes, I do.

You may meet a guy you like.

Dark, curly hair, tan.
I think that's your type...

And end up sleeping with him.

But I don't think you can fall in love.

You're very sure of yourself.

No, not at all.

On the other hand,
I'm convinced what surrounds me is lame.

It's funny.

When I met you,
when I saw you at the "Deux Magots",

I was just killing time waiting for Jean
and I killed Jean.

You say very beautiful things.

I don't know if they're rehearsed or not.

But in a bad film,
it would be called the "message".

Another one, please.

Watch what you say.

If I try, I can say a maximum of nonsense
in a minimum of time.

- You drink a lot.
- Do you mind?

- Do you mind?
- It wasn't a criticism. Excuse me.

Do you often pick up girls
like you did me?

I've told you, I never do.

But with you, I had to.
How was I to find you?

Remember what you said to me?

"I haven't time for a drink.
Have you a phone number?"

I remember very well.
What did you think, if I may ask?

I was surprised to see you there.

You weren't as cute as I thought.

I didn't think you'd call me.

I lied to you.

I was free. I didn't come on purpose.

I thought so.

I didn't understand why you
wouldn't sleep with me.

I figured, maybe he's sick, impotent...

And I found out you weren't.

Did it bother you that I didn't try?

How else would a girl feel,
when guys usually leap on her,

and then someone's nice and doesn't try?

- May I tell you something?
- Yes.

I've talked about the woman
I lived with...

Your shitty ex-lover, who left?

My shitty ex-lover. Right.

She didn't just leave.

I wish she had left with just a note.

"Goodbye. I'm leaving".

I'd have liked that.

You know, when I met you,
I'd just left her.

I'd talked to her.

I'd decided to fall in love
with the first girl I met.

You were that woman. Shall I go on?

I don't believe in chance.

I needed that break-up to meet you.

I could've gone by earlier,
or across the street.

And when you didn't show
up that first time,

she came by, and we had a drink.

I leave her, I see you.
You don't come, she does.

Then, you come.

Why didn't we meet sooner.
A month, a year ago?

We cruised the same areas.

I don't see how people leave people.

I never left anyone.

That's why I always get left.

I think life, the passage of time,

take care of the job of pulling
people together or apart.

I don't do anything. I let time do it.

Why should I do someone else's job?

You know about Sacha Guitry
and his first wife?

He was at home with his wife.

Sunk down in a high-backed chair,
hidden completely.

Suddenly, he hears the door open behind him,

and recognizes the voice of an actor,
who says:

"Darling, are you alone?"

So he gets up, appears and replies:

"No. I'm not alone...
I didn't know you cared enough to call me darling".

Soon after, he divorced her.

Women who have good guys
always cheat with creeps.

It's probably a form of self-expression for them.

My last months with Gilberte,

I only remember a few indications:

There were whiskey bottles in the hall.
I wanted them saved.

There was blood on the walls,
from our fights.

Once, I hit her very hard,
and broke something.

Her face was bandaged for two weeks.

Last time we made love,

she looked like Frankenstein.

I left, I went to Marie's,
but I had nightmares,

so I came back in the night.
And it started again.

And that was when she
said she was pregnant.

That infuriated me...

She started crying, I left.

Afterwards, I don't know.

I thought for a few days...

Suddenly... I was on a bus...

I felt something, very deeply.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, very strong.

A veritable revelation.

Suddenly, I felt very happy.

I wanted to live with her,

which I hadn't done in ages...

I wanted to work, to have that child.

I raced to her apartment.

She wasn't there.

I looked everywhere, I called her friends.

She'd disappeared.

Then someone told me.

She didn't want to see me. She was hiding.

She said she didn't love me.

You know,

when you leave someone you love,

you should say what I said before:

"Goodbye, I'm leaving".

But to disappear...

to hide, like a criminal, that's base.

I suddenly felt I was being
made a character in a bad film.

A slick melodrama.

Just when the man realizes
he loves the woman,

the woman realizes she
doesn't love him anymore.

It's a pathetic story.

I don't think life can be
like these strange worlds

which bar re-entry once the doors close.

I'd rather she'd died,

committed suicide.

A bit later, I found out...

she had an abortion.

And was living with the guy who did it.
Or who helped her. Whatever.

Abortionists are the new Robin Hoods,

the new chivalrous knights.

They no longer defend widows and orphans,

they save women from
the disgrace in their bellies.

The scalpel replaces the sword,

the probe replaces the Sabre.

And women always belong to their rescuers.

I definitely don't like heroes.

Nausea is a noble disorder.

It is not the name that fits this dust,

this shame,

that sticks in my throat,

that I cannot swallow,

nor spit up.

When someone leaves and we suffer,
we never quite know why.

It's not just love. It's pride, self-love.
I resigned myself to it.

I tried to stop suffering,
or to cut it short,

knowing one day it would stop.

But when the earth
trembles under our feet...

when love,

success, revolution,
no longer mean anything...

You know,

the world will be saved by children,

soldiers... and madmen.

I think your friend is here.

She didn't see you. She's over there.

- You can stay.
- No, I'm going over there.

- Hello, don't you remember me?
- Your name's Virginia.

No. My name is Veronika.

That's right. We met in the country...

Yes, I remember you very well.

By the way, we're having a little party,

a little party for Maurice's birthday.

At my place, rue de Vaugirard.

- Leaving, Alexandre?
- Yes, yes.

- Stay a bit.
- No, I'm tired. So long.

Don't you want to come?

No, I'm going to the movies.

I must really love you
to chase you in the street.

Why did you go? I asked you to stay.

You were with people.

That wasn't important.

They seemed to amuse you, more than me.

He's very amusing.

He's dumb, thinks he's irresistible.

And it's fun to hear bullshit.

Perhaps...

I followed you
because I wanted to be with you.

You're very nice, but I can't.

You have things to do?
I thought you were free.

No, I'm free, but I told you,
I have a full life.

You know, I'd like to fuck you again.

Why not say it?

Chicks don't usually say that?

I love you and I want to fuck you again.

Can you bring guys to your room?

No, but all the girls do it.

We could go there. But not today.

You won't come to my room.

You respect the rules?

I've brought a lot of guys up there.

Why do you think
I insisted on a double bed?

But I don't want the man I love
to see my sordid place.

Well, it's a privilege I'm happy to have.

But you know,

I make sure the women I know have apartments,
since I don't.

I only sleep with that kind.

Me, I fuck a lot of Arabs and Jews.

That's something else...

You're on an alien kick.

Yes. I adore aliens.
I adore fucking aliens.

It turns me on, too. Sorry, but it does.
Every time.

Don't be sorry.

But then why me?

I don't know. Stupid, probably.

Why shouldn't women be able
to say they want to fuck?

The ones who don't are idiots, right?

I don't know.

Yes, probably...

If you're busy now,
couldn't we meet later?

Whenever you like.

I'll try to be at the "Flore" at midnight.

But it's not definite. Where will we go?
I don't like hotels.

- Why? Hotels are fine.
- No, that's no good.

And I'd kind of like to go to your place.

I'll be at the "Flore" at midnight.

Can I drop you off?

Yes, at my place.

- Would you like a drink?
- Yes.

I can make coffee... Nescafe.

You have nothing else?

Sure, water.

No, make me a Nescafe.

What have you done since I saw you?

I went and fucked, or got fucked.
Whichever.

I thought so. Your make-up is messed up.

I called an ex-lover.

An intern who was on duty at Necker.

Want it strong or weak?

Strong.

I dig up ex-lovers when I want to.

I upset some of them,
when their wives answer the phone.

But I don't like fucking them anymore.

I'm not happy.

Then why do it? You didn't have to...

You annoyed me.

I wanted to stay with you.
I told you. I insisted.

You sure humiliated me.

I think I did it just to get back at you.

You had a few hours to kill.

You could have spent them at home,
watching TV.

Watching TV?

I wanted to get fucked. I wanted a cock!

It's nice to sleep feeling a cock, even soft,
against your ass.

But you're jealous?

I don't know...

No, it excites me.

One sugar, or two?

One.

I like your room. It smells of hospital.

My room smells of hospital? How awful!

- I'm a mess.
- Yes.

Think so?

Yes, but you have a way of
being a mess which suits you.

Come here.

So, what did you do with your ex-lover?

I don't like to tell.

Anyway it went so fast.

He wanted it, then?

Yes. I've always turned him on.
I give him an instant hard-on.

You found a bed?

Kicked a patient out? How did you manage?

- There's a couch in his office.
- Oh, I see...

Very efficient.

You don't want to tell?

No... He said "Undress, do what I like".

What's that?

- I won't tell.
- Then do it to me.

No, it's too tiring.

You're showing bad faith. I'd rather go...

Stay. I'll do it if you can guess.

What did you use?

Tell me if I'm hot...

Or cold...

Help me.

When I'm not drunk, I'm super-modest.

Turn off the light. It's there.

You undressed fast the other day.

While you weren't looking.

That's my technique.
I always do it like that.

Alexandre, I'm going to work.

Stay and sleep, if you like.

- What time is it?
- 6:45.

No-no, I'm going to get up.

You're very beautiful...

Come a bit closer...

Don't the doctors do that all day?

They used to. Not anymore.

And the patients?

The patients, never.

- Any time to make love?
- No, I'm going to the O.R.

Who are you going to kill today?

I'll leave you a key.

Lock the door. You can keep it.

How much is it?

It's on the tag.

May I try it on?

Yes. In here.

Excuse me?

- Here.
- Thank you.

Bye.

You can come over here.

I have something for you.
A scarf. I set it aside.

I think it'll look good on you.

I like it. What do you think?

Yes. Yes.

- It's Veronika.
- No, I don't want to.

Oh, go on, work it out, it's your affair.

- Hello.
- Hello. It's Veronika. Am I intruding?

Well, yes... I was asleep.

Excuse me.

It doesn't matter. What's up?

I'd like to see you.

What's that noise? I can't hear you.

I'm at the "Bibloquet".
Want to come meet me?

No. I'm tired, not tonight.
I'll call you tomorrow.

You won't come?

No-no. I'll call you tomorrow. Good night.

What did she want?

For me to go to meet her.

She's at a nightclub. She's drunk.

She's a bit lost, huh?

It's obvious.

I thought people who worked...

were more stable than the others.

Or at least pretend to be.

Even if it's shitty work.

Even if they don't make enough for bread.

I heard a cliche recently:

How was it...

Wait...

"The man in the street".

I don't feel at all like
"the man in the street".

I should stay in.
One must always let people be right.

I rather like it that she
acts the way she does...

Gets shit-faced,
calls in the middle of the night...

Because if the people who work...

If "the man in the street"
starts flipping out too,

to use a somewhat dated expression,

then some interesting things will happen.

Because I've had about enough
of these people feeling smug

with their cars, vacations, families...

I used to think:
"Why do they keep on working?"

Why don't they pack it in?
Why don't they leave?

Anywhere, nowhere.

Once, I fell asleep on the highway...

between Marseilles and Lyons.

Those lines zipping by.

I fell asleep for a few seconds.

I woke up when my car bumped
the guard rail on the left.

I clutched the wheel, desperately,
trying to stay awake.

And I saw, it wasn't a mirage,

I really saw...

as if one could see the same place 1000 years ago,
or in 1000 years...

That blacktop highway,

all cracked and fissured,

overgrown with weeds,

a vestige of ancient civilization.

Useless.

Ruined.

The Parthenon, the pyramids...

The highway, the factories,

it was all the same.

And on that path,

men,

women,

vagabonds,

their goods tied to a stick
slung on their shoulders,

walking, like the end of a Chaplin film.

But not going anywhere.

It was over.

Just going.

I thought, there's not much longer.

Soon, all this would be over.

Housing projects, cars, cinemas...

Maybe someone very old, really old,

will still remember

and tell the youths about movies...

Pictures that moved, and talked.

And the young won't understand.

It's crazy that you really
still believe in a man.

What does that mean?

In what man?

"The man in the street"?

There's another cliche I like. It goes:

"The underprivileged classes".

See, there's...

"the textile bourgeoisie",

"the underprivileged classes",

"the man in the street",

"unwed mothers", etc.

A name for everything.

In exchange for so-called work,
men accept money from other men.

You can ask anything of men
who accept money from others,

even to take their pants down.

To play the game,
you need the same weapons...

And know how to use them.

Dueling was good.

One was pitted against equals.

Thugs murdered with knives in the back.

I'm rather in favor of that.

Strike unawares,

from behind.

When I make love with you,
I think only of death,

of earth,

of ashes.

You never told me that.

I always think about it.

So, you're making love with death.

Why?

Do you see rivers, rushing waterfalls?

- Hello. Can I speak to Alexandre?
- He's asleep.

Can you wake him?

Listen, you know you can't
wake him when he's asleep.

Then, I'm coming over.

Listen, Veronika,

we'd like a little peace and quiet.

- You're at 234, right?
- Yes.

Okay. I'm coming.

She's coming.

You should have said no, been firm.

Listen, my friend, that's your business.

Anyway, she's so drunk.

What time is it?

4:00 a.m.

Listen, my friend, I want to say...

that your romances are
starting to piss me off.

No-no. It's fine.

I like people who disobey.

You tell them "Don't come", they come.

You tell them "Leave", they stay.

Like drunks thrown out of a bar.

You say "Go", they come back.

I don't like dignity.

She's not alone.

If she's with a guy, throw them out.

I don't have any money.
Can you pay my taxi?

She needs money for the taxi
and the guy is grabbing her ass.

There's some money in my pocket.

Nothing to drink here?

I think you've had enough, honey.

Honey?

Maybe I'm disturbing you.

Maybe you were fucking?

Shitty old Alexandre!

Rotten old Marie,

with breasts of a woman of thirty.

And you... Sweet, tender, pure Veronika.

Pure? Me?

I'm completely rotten.

Don't mind what I say.

I've drunk a maximum tonight.

Can I get in the sack with you?

You know what would please me?

For you two to fuck.

If you want to fuck Alexandre,
he won't mind.

I don't want to fuck.
What do you think?

I don't want him and his old cock.

Ever noticed his cock looks
like the spout of a teapot?

No. What would please me
is for you two to fuck.

You love each other.
People in love, fucking...

That's the most beautiful thing there is.

You're beautiful, Marie...

With my body of a woman of thirty?

Cut the crap. You're very beautiful.

Look at your legs...

But women don't turn me on.

What time is it?

Aren't you going to work?

I'll call in. I'll work it out.

I'm crazy about you.

What's that?

I'm crazy about you.

Marie invited some friends over.

- I'm handling drinks.
- Your friends?

No, hers. They're OK, you'll see.

They won't mind me?

No. I checked with Marie.

- Know where the liquor is?
- No.

Over there.

See, here we are!

I never lose my way when
it comes to liquor.

- Like this whiskey?
- I only drink it with Coke.

With this one, it'd be criminal!

We'll get a cheap whiskey
to have it with Coke.

This one, you'll taste it, you'll love it.

You'll see, they'll think we're drunk.

Good to see you.

- How's Charles?
- He's coming.

What's for dinner?

Rabbit with mustard.

Great. This will be delicious.

We took care of the booze.

I'll have a drop.

- Anything to nibble on?
- No.

No. Thank you.

- Where are you going?
- I'll be back.

- I've got something to say.
- Yes.

There's an extra guest.

That's too bad... Who?

I hope you won't be an asshole.
It's Philippe.

No! I won't stand for it!

Listen, come on Alexandre!

No, absolutely not!

Fine. I'm leaving! Have a nice evening!

Listen, Alexandre!

Wait, there's been a change of plan.
A scene.

- Over me?
- No.

Get in the car, I'll explain.

I took a few bottles.
We can get drunk anywhere.

I don't want to get drunk.

Too bad. She does make
good rabbit with mustard.

What happened?

Oh nothing... She invited a guy.

I don't know if he's a boyfriend,
some Cultural Attache...

Excuse me, I'm furious.

Alexandre, I love you.

If you want me to I'll leave,
if that would help.

No. If you go, I'll go with you.

I don't think it will work out.

You disgust me. You're totally selfish.

Go fuck the whole world!

You're a dirty bastard!

I'll be back. Have any cigarettes?

What do you want? Leave me alone!

It was going fine tonight.
What did you try to prove?

- You knew damn well.
- No, I didn't.

I thought you could do something for me.
But you're incapable!

What you do well is drain people.

But dinner with Philippe tonight
would have been too much for you.

That's the truth... far too much.

Shut up! Everything you say is dirty!

And what you're doing isn't dirty?

No. It's you. You soil anything you touch.

- Why didn't you say?
- I didn't know.

Charles ran into him and invited him.

You could have said no... Or asked me...

If only you'd done it as a provocation!

You let others act for you.

Do you know irresponsibility
aggravates crime!

Your friends invite someone,
and that's all right with you?

You have no say?

Hello. Charles Lemoine, please.

Try the terrace...

I'll meet you there. I'll explain.

I'll call you.

Thank you for waiting.

We're going up.

But if you don't feel right, leave.

You know, I love Marie very much.
These spats won't change that.

Hand me the bottles...

Let's open these anyway.

I'll get glasses.

- I suppose you're not hungry anymore.
- No.

Me neither.

People take all sorts of things
to kill their appetites.

They should try a good scene
once in a while.

The stomach knots up. You can't eat.
It's great.

You who cure cancer,

who heal the most incredible suffering...

Have you never sought a cure for this?

It isn't new.

Since the first love affair...

Way back,

at the beginning of time,

people fucked, coupled... no problems.

Everyone together.

Then one day, someone wanted
one woman for himself.

He said "She's mine, hands off!".

The first love affair.
He didn't know what he was doing.

So, is there no cure? Shots? An operation?

Try vitamin, "M" (love)

How about the rabbit... Feel up to it?

Not now. Maybe later.

Can I make you up? I love it! Come here.

- Ooh-la-la...
- What's going on?

Alexandre's doing it up big...
This record...

You two make me laugh with your games.

Oh, please, Veronika.

Let me speak.
Don't you see how ridiculous you two are?

You should make Alexandre up too.

Fuck off!

I promise, Alexandre,
it'll be very becoming.

Yes-yes, very becoming.

Nice, eh?

If you go out like that,
you'll turn a maximum of guys on.

He should get it up the ass.
It won't hurt him.

It'd do him good.

That's your problem and you know it.

You should give it a try, Alexandre.

I hate being in the middle.

Want to get there?

No. Leave me alone.

If I'm in the way,
I can use the other room.

Cut out the bullshit.

You're the happiest man in the world.

You're in the sack with
two chicks who love you.

I'll take the middle,

but let me sleep.

Fuck me... Fuck me...

No!

How many to sleep?

1 or 2.

The whole thing?

How does one handle this?

Let her be.
She's doing what she wants.

No, we've got to do something!

Are you crazy?

Now I'm going to sleep!
Leave me alone.

That's enough. Blow!
Get the hell out!

Fuck in hospitals, fuck anywhere,
but get out of here!

Calm down. Everything's cool...

Shut up! I've had it!

I'm closing up!

You have shitty relationships with women.

At times you're nice,
you seem to love people,

but you have shitty relationships.

Your Gilberte,
whatever you did, she must've loved you.

Especially if she was a virgin.

For her to be with this asshole,

you must've made her sad, or crazy.

She should've stayed with you.

You can be very nice.

You must've fucked her well,
you're not bad in bed.

Yes. You drove her crazy.

And you and Marie... A shitty couple.

Love isn't like that, it's simple.

Even when it ends.

When I lived with the yogurt guy,
it was simple and beautiful.

And that's how it ended.

You're screwed up.

But I love you. You're all I think of.

You came into my life,
and you've done me good.

You may be right.

I'm not very gifted.

I may not have the vocation of life.
But I love you...

You don't love me. You love Marie.

You live and sleep with her,
you wash with her, you shit with her.

You love one woman, fuck another.
What a load of shit it all is!

There's something I'd like.

Would you do it?

What?

Smile.

There. Happy?

Yes. Very.

Oh, now I remember the story that guy told,
that I'd forgotten...

That 5:30 in the morning stuff.

He'd say:

"You know what's the difference
between myxomatosis and the clap"?

You know what it is?

Myxomatosis is spread by rabbits.

And the clap is spread by dicks.

All that at 5:25 a.m.

I hate to bad-mouth people,

but Marie isn't simple.

She kisses me, calls me "honey",
takes my hand.

You two and your shitty blow-ups...

I don't come to see her,
whatever I say, it's you.

Because I like you.

But you're not simple either.

You're an asshole and that's it.

How can anyone say,
"You're the only man I ever loved"?

How ridiculous.

Me saying:

"Alexandre, you're so beautiful."

What an asshole you are.

How I hate you.

I'd like another whiskey.

Two whiskeys.

I thought of you in the toilet.
A bit of graffiti...

"My passion opens out on death
like a window on a courtyard".

And someone had added: "Jump, Narcissus!"

It reminded you of me?

Don't you see the likeness?

Veronika called. She's coming over.

I told her you were sick.

She's bringing medicine.

- Going out?
- Getting cigarettes.

Who are the roses for, me?

Hello, Alexandre. Are you sick?

I bought some Pernod for Veronika,
and she brought us some whiskey.

Want me to give you a shot?

- What kind?
- He's scared of shots.

I'll give you an intravenous shot of vitamin C.

In your lovely veins.

You'll see, you'll feel great.

He's terrified of shots.
It's really to make you happy.

Hold the cotton.

You'll have a lump
because you didn't press down.

It'll be your fault, not mine.

I'd like the night nurse.
She gets naked...

Gives a few shots...

Hops in bed with the patients.
Not at all embarrassed.

But when I had that shift,

I had cancerous wretches
with holes in their necks,

who spat, who gargled...

with a stench of disease and decay.

Being a nurse can be pretty horrible at times.

You're so aware of people suffering,
ready to kick off.

In spite of what Alexandre thinks.

How do you know?

Oh, I don't know anything.

I know less and less.

And on that note, Veronika,
discreetly, disappears.

The blonde Slav disappears.

It's not at all her style.

You know, Alexandre...

The first stiff I ever saw
was my grandfather who had T.B.

Lung disease, the old Polack.

And right to the end,
he insulted my old grandmother.

He was real mean.

But he was really nuts.

From 50 on, he started reading his beads.

He became the local mystic.

I was 15 when he died.

The whole neighborhood turned out,
the old church crones and so on.

A maximum of priests came
to fatten up at the house.

People said: "A saint is dead".

And my grandmother,

the superstitious old Pole,
saw him move.

And the corner grocer,

who extended her a maximum of credit,

and sniffed ether,

also saw him move.

And there I was, 15 years old,

and I saw he didn't move.

Well, an angel's passing.

That angel's always late.

Can't you put on an old record?

No. But you can go on talking.

You know, nobody ever married me.

With me, it was a chance.
A social marriage.

You were lucky.

I never had a social marriage.

I was deflowered, socially,
by an old doctor, when I was 20.

I never flirted.

I told him:
"I want you to fuck me, break me in."

Alexandre thinks I have a Negress' body.

No... he knows you're no Negress.

No. But I'm not exactly
blonde and blue-eyed...

You're not a blue-eyed blonde,
but you're not black.

Alexandre is fixated on blue-eyed blondes.

He got fixated on me thinking
I was a new Gilberte.

A new, bare-assed,
fanny-swinging Gilberte.

A non-prudish Gilberte.

You found a non-virginal Gilberte.

You found a whorish Gilberte.

What luck!

What fun and I'm enjoying it!

Pretending to sleep. Maximum role-playing.

Shall we play roles?

Alexandre, you're the only man I ever loved.

With you it was super-cool!

Come here, Veronika.

Know that I like you a lot.

I'm an asshole,
but I still understand a lot...

Because I'm likable.

If you knew how good I feel right now.

I told you I wanted to give you a present.

But I think it'll be too big.
You'd have to take it in under your arms.

Ever seen Veronika
take anything in under her arms?

Don't give me a present.

You two together, that's a super present.

Cut the bullshit.

No, you've told me, that's super enough.

I don't want it.

Can I be let in on it?

No, you can't.

It's our secret.

Well, if it's your secret...

You're lucky to have two chicks
who love you and have a secret.

When you're an old man in a wheelchair,

with a super-chick putting drops in your nose,
or somewhere,

remember this.

You're super-lucky,
with two chicks who love you and get along.

Which doesn't always happen.

Last time, it wasn't like that.

Get that into your little head,

because your head isn't very big.

No, no vague fondling, Alexandre.
What do you think?

By fooling with a girl's breasts or sex,
what do you think?

For me, that's not it at all.

And I love you.
And I say it in front of Marie.

Your sex...

What a super complex he has about it!

Your sex, Alexandre,
which makes me come so much...

Your sex doesn't mean a thing to me.

And on that,
she helps herself to another Pernod.

Your head, which understands everything

and talks about grandiloquent things,

which are absolutely
ridiculous and pretentious...

The funny thing is,
one of us takes himself seriously,

and another doesn't.

Guess which one does?

Of you two, or us three?

Us two. Alexandre and me.

Listen, Marie, allow me, just this once.

I allow you.

Allow me, please, Marie.

Allow me, for one dreary sex story.

Once and for all, both of you,

these fuck stories mean nothing to me.

And I don't give a shit that you two fuck.

I'm so happy with you.

I don't give a shit.

Understand that I don't give a shit...

that I love you.

Look, I'm starting to get drunk
and I'm slurring,

and that's horrible,
because what I say, I really mean.

I could stay with you forever,
I feel so happy.

I feel loved by you two.

And that one, looking at me slyly
with his beady eyes, thinking:

"Chat away, baby, I'll get you".

Please, Alexandre, I'm not playing a role.
What do you think?

For me, there are no whores.

For me, a girl who lets anyone fuck her,
any way, is no whore.

For me, there are no whores, that's all.

You can suck anyone,
get fucked by anyone, you're no whore.

I agree completely.

There are no whores on earth,
understand that.

And you must understand.

The woman who's married and who's happy,

and who dreams of getting fucked by anyone,

by her husband's boss,
or by some shitty actor,

or by her milkman, by her plumber...
Is she a whore?

There are no whores.
What does that mean, whore?

There are just cunts, genitals.

What do you think?
It's not sad, it's super-happy!

I get fucked by anybody,

they fuck me and I get off.

Why put so much importance
on these fuck stories?

Sex...

You fuck me well. Oh, how I love you!

Only you can fuck me like that.

How people can fool themselves...
There's just one you, just one me.

Only you can fuck me like that.

Only I can be fucked like that by you.

How funny.

How horrible and sordid. Fuck!

How sordid and horrible!

If you know how I can love you two,

and how it can have nothing to do with sex...

I lost my virginity recently, at 20.

19, 20. How recent.

And afterwards, I got fucked.

I took a maximum of lovers,
and got fucked.

It may be a chronic disease.
Chronic fucking.

And yet I don't give a fuck about fucking.

Getting knocked up?
Now, that would piss me off a maximum.

I keep a Tampax in,
so to get me to take it out, and to fuck,

you'd have to excite me a maximum.
I don't give a fuck.

If people could dig, once and for all,
that fucking is shit.

That just one thing is beautiful:

Fucking because you're so in love,

you want to make a baby who looks like you,

and otherwise, it's something sordid.

You should only fuck if you're in love.

And I'm not drunk...

If I'm crying, it's for my whole past life,

my past sex life, which is so short.

Five years of sex life...

that's not much.

See, Marie,
I'm talking to you because I love you.

So many men have fucked me,

and wanted me, you know?

They wanted me because I had a big ass,
which can be desirable.

I have pretty breasts
which are very desirable.

My mouth isn't bad either,

and with make-up,

my eyes aren't bad either.

I've been fucked a lot, meaninglessly.

Desired a lot and fucked, meaninglessly.

I'm not dramatizing, Marie.
I'm not drunk.

What do you think,
that I'm brooding on my shitty fate?

Absolutely not.

I've been fucked like a whore.

But, you know, I think some day...

a man will come along and will love me,

and will make me a baby, out of love.

Love is nothing
unless you want to make a baby together.

If you want that,
you feel you love each other.

A couple that doesn't want a baby is not a couple,

it's shit, it's anything, dust...

Those free super-couples...

"You fuck on your side, darling,
I'll fuck on mine".

"We're super-happy together.
We get back together. Aren't we fine!"

I'm not reproaching you.
On the contrary.

My sadness isn't a reproach, you know?

It's an old sadness
I've dragged around for five years.

Nothing to do with you.

How nice you can be together.

Look,

you're going to be happy.

This sure is cheerful!

Aren't you hungry?

Don't you want to eat?

Aren't you hungry?
Don't you want to eat, Alexandre?

What are you writing?

Your life?

Packing up?

I'm used to it.

Go on! Fuck away! Fight!

Snarl at each other and fuck away!

Enough's enough.

No shitty drunkenness...

No heavy complaints.

Enough's enough.

It's much heavier.

Won't you take me home, Alexandre?

That's it. Go ahead. Good night.

- What are you putting on? Don Giovanni?
- No.

♪ The lovers of Paris lie down with my song

♪ In Paris, lovers love each other
in their own way

♪ The refrains I tell them are more
beautiful than the beautiful days

♪ Of which Springtime is full,
and Springtime is love

♪ My verse was lost on a garden border

♪ It was never returned to
me and I know very well

♪ That the lovers of Paris
have stolen my songs

♪ In Paris, lovers have
their own strange ways

♪ The lovers of Paris meet at Robinson

♪ Where you keep track of the
notes of the accordion

♪ The lovers of Paris will change seasons

♪ Taking by the hand
my little scrap of song

♪ There's plenty of gold,
plenty of lilac and eyes to see them

♪ Usually that's how they begin,
these love stories

♪ The lovers of Paris meet at Robinson

♪ In Paris, lovers have
their own strange ways

♪ I have a chain of love
around my two hands

♪ There are millions of lovers
and I have only a refrain

♪ You see all around
the boys of the whole world

♪ Who would give a lot
for Springtime to come

♪ For them it's not much
because the beautiful month of May

♪ Is what I've pasted everywhere
in their calendar

♪ The lovers of Paris have used my songs

♪ In Paris, lovers have
their own strange ways

♪ Give me songs

♪ So that we love each other

♪ In Paris ♪

I'll walk you in.

If you like.
I walk straight when I'm drunk.

Walk, let's see.

- Let me go!
- What's got into you?

What are you doing here?
Let me go!

You disgust me.

Stop.

Your old drunkenness again.

My old drunkenness again.

I'll walk you to your room.

You disgust me!

I may be pregnant by you.

I love you.

You can't even let people you love be drunk!

You're pitiful.

Don't touch me! Leave!

What are you doing here?

Give me back my key! My key!

Oh, that's enough!

Do you love me?

Do you love me?

Yes!

Will you marry me?

Yes.

I'm sick. I'm going to throw up.

If you want to marry me,
be useful, get a basin.

I don't like to be watched when I throw up.

Turn around!