All language subtitles for Regular.Lovers.2005.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC5.1-[YTS.MX]

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Regular Lovers

Hello.

Do you think I
should publish them?

What?

My poems.
You know I write poetry.

Why are you asking me?

It would feel like betraying
something. But I don't know what.

How about you?

Me?

A house painter.

A house painter?

Why not a real artist?

A real artist?

A house painter is a real artist.

You seem to be very
interested in me.

Is it because I've got the hash?

You know I'd never want to be
famous or important.

I want to be anonymous.

Anyway. We're always alone.

Jean-Christophe pretends
not to get it.

And you've really understood.

You see. We communicate without
words. You'd never have believed it.

Mom!

François Dervieux?

Your medical exam for military
service, you didn't respond.

- Take your things and come with me.
- I can't.

- It's the law. You must obey.
- I can't come with you.

I won't come with you.

You are coming with me!

What's this? A gun?
Well, shoot me.

Shoot me.
I'm telling you to shoot me.

Don't joke with me.

Alright, if that's the case...

Sign this form
confirming your refusal.

I'm not signing any papers.

You must sign, young man!

I'm not signing and I'm not
coming with you, officer.

- Have they gone?
- They have.

- Seen what's happening? It's great!
- Tough shit.

On the Boulevard Saint-Michel,
some guy gave me a Molotov.

All I had to do was throw it.

So I went towards the crossroads
where the police vans had stopped,

full of coppers.

I said to myself: "I'll light it,
and roll it under the van

"and 5 coppers burn alive."

But then I turned back thinking:
"I can't kill people."

So I left the Molotov cocktail
in a gutter.

See?

"Enough rehearsals.
Move forward."

Next time
that you arrive late...

Hopes of Fire

Free our comrades!

And what is the Party saying?

The Party? What Party?

We are the Party.

You're right.

If someone wants to take power,
but waits for permission

it means he'd rather take orders
instead of power.

You're wrong. You can't do
anything without organizing first.

First take over the power,
then do the organizing.

Organizing is for sheep.

What we want is anarchism.

What's next?

Avenue du Maine,
11 p.m. Tomorrow.

We should disperse now.

The Girondists are coming!

Back off, comrades!

Bastards! Assholes!

Block the way, go back!

Block the way instead
of standing there!

What shall we block it with?

Miss, can you hear me?

Try to wake up.

Come on Madam.

Make a little effort.

Police SS! Police SS!

Call the guys!
Hey guys! This one here!

Let's move this one.

Take it there. Over there.
No, further.

Slowly! Over here.

A bit further!

Stop! Go on the other side.

Let's turn it over!

Individual rights, you bastards!

Careful!

Hurry up, come on!

It's no stroll in the park.

Let's knock one down
before they load it up!

Want some?

Officer, ready to charge.

Slowly. We need to go slowly.

Get back!

Tomorrow in Champ de Mars then.

- I'm a pacifist.
- No problem.

I'm a pacifist!

First right.
Then right again.

Then through the front door
before they turn the corner.

If they see me. I'm dead.

Who is it?

Sir, I'm very scared.
Please let me in.

- Are you the one burning cars?
- Yes.

You should've thought
of that before.

Shit.

You take the stairs.

Check the courtyard.

Well? Nobody?

Go and get five torches.

- Nothing?
- Nothing to report.

Let's get the torches.

Crisis: 1st contact between
the government and trade unions

New clashes last night
in the Latin Quarter

Cabinet reshuffle:

Pompidou remains Prime Minister.
Debré may leave Finance

Strikes:
More factories have been occupied

François! Are you hurt?

Nothing serious.
Can I hide here?

Come on in.

I was listening to the radio.

The police were following me

and I ended up in this area.

- Here.
- Thank you.

Sugar.

Call your parents.
They must be worried.

No, I saw a doctor last night.
Nothing serious.

What a nightmare!

You've no idea what bastards
cops are!

First they came close
to the barricade that we'd built,

while we were stepping back.

They took it down with their vans

while we were making another one.

A huge one, 2 meters high,
with cobblestones and road signs

and so forth.
Instead of taking down the barricade

the riot police got out
of their vans, climbed over it

and chased us with truncheons.

They're dangerous.
They hit women.

Shall I run you a bath?

- Shall I run you a bath?
- I'd love one.

I'll give you your father's clothes.

The trousers may be too big.

No, they're fine.

- The shirt.
- Yes.

- Are you coming?
- Yes.

Has my dad given up?
Is he moving in here?

I wish I knew!

Each time he leaves more
of his stuff here.

He's dropping his guard.

- Towel.
- Thanks.

I must go to work.

You can sleep in my bed if you like.

- Lock the door when you leave.
- I will.

Sorry, I really must go.

I'm meeting up with a friend.
We'll hitch a ride together.

- There's food in the fridge.
- Okay.

- Will you call your parents?
- I will.

- Bye.
- Bye. Sorry, I can't give you a hug.

At this very moment there's
fire inside the Stock Exchange.

A little while ago. Demonstrators
got into the Stock Exchange building.

They broke open the gates. Got in.

Bashed in the doors.
Leaving inside...

Mom, we're fucked.

The working class are about
to give up.

Trade Unions are more scared of
the revolution than the bourgeoisie.

What they want is to get
more money from their bosses.

As if it would make them happier.

They don't understand that life
is what counts, not money.

And money won't change their life.

It's really tough.
It drives me mad, I swear.

So now the only question is:

"Can we make the revolution

"for the working class
despite the working class?"

- Just wait. Things may change.
- They won't.

They can't change.

Go to bed,
you'll be more comfortable.

Mom, we haven't lost, you know.
We just didn't want anyone to die.

You really think
people could've died?

- How is it going?
- And you?

- Your finger?
- It's okay.

- Good. You can't see anything.
- It hurt, to begin with, not now.

It's nothing.

- Hello.
- Hello Lucien.

- Everything okay?
- Yes.

It's over.

- Finished?
- Yes.

Nothing to be happy about.
But it's over.

Before a similar occasion arises...

This is all we have.
The shops are empty.

- They're cold!
- Of course they are.

I was scared.

- He's lost weight, don't you think?
- A bit.

It's nothing. I eat, I'm fine.

You know, when you reach...
a certain age, 100 years or older...

Thank you. They look after
you like after a baby.

"Are you eating?"
"Yes. I don't want the soup."

At times I used to throw it.

Shall I help you?

We'll be able to eat what we like.

They'll even supply the fuel.

So we'll go away for a weekend.

It's all organized.
First we wash the car.

Look, the day will go like this.
In the morning we wash the car.

Then we set the table
and eat until five o'clock.

This is life, normal life.

That's enough. Eat the sardines.

A house in the country,

one's better off without it.

Unless you like
screaming children,

risks on a motorway...

As if none of this
ever existed, right?

It'll be like none of this ever
existed. Like nothing ever happened.

Stop playing. Eat the sardines.

I wanted to tell François a story

to take his mind off things.

Someone once said to me:

"You know,
with life getting longer,

"you should think
that you'll be around

"till you're 140." Well, I am...

You know very well.

That is, 20 plus...

plus 140... 60 more years to live?

Fine, I'd love to. But...

The pensions, you're ripped off.

60 more years to live!
And all the...

And you get to 180, two centuries!

The old ones in the Bible...

They say that the old ones,
the Church priests, in 70 AD,

used to live 700,

800 years,
the old people in the Bible.

It's a legend.
But they talk about it

as if it had been real.

I'm not talking about gorillas.
A gorilla lives...

long.

A hundred, hundred and fifty years.

An elephant, 300 years.

Others... Octopuses live long,
they're very clever.

And you, little bird...

chirp chirp chirp,
sing for the others.

This is typical. All the Jewish
suffering of the world.

- Will you come to visit me?
- Where?

- In the country.
- Why?

She's leaving. Dumping us.

Cut the thread.

Where's she going?

First to stay with friends
in Vercors.

Then I'll see.

I'm not going back to the office.
Not after all this.

See, you're being conceited. But...

You're more disappointed than us.

It's not that.

I just don't want to live
like this anymore.

Anyhow, you're doing the right thing.

You were hoping for a change too?

Well! It's normal...

More than us.

You did too.

Will you come to see me, Lucien?

I will.

Of course.

Of course.

Wait!

Shall I show you something,
like when you were a child?

The knife trick?

- You remember?
- I do.

Wait.
Do you know it too?

- Shall I do it or not?
- Yes, go on.

Let's see if I can still do it...

- You remember?
- Not bad.

Well?
Did you get it now? No?

It's more clear.

Magic for kids.

During the afternoon snack,
in front of the friends.

One more time.

Attention.

- Did you get it? You don't anymore?
- I did, I did.

You've seen it all now.

It only works once.

Look, there's this trick. It's easy.
It always works.

- The paper, is it there or not?
- Now it's there.

Now it's not. Do you want
it to disappear by itself?

By magic. Disappear, go!

- Is it there or not?
- It's not.

- And now, is it there?
- Not anymore.

- Do you want one?
- Yes. Not bad at all.

- Do you want two?
- Yes.

There, it's back.

The sitting of the Permanent Court
of the Armed Forces is now open.

Third trial, case no. 45,
François Dervieux.

Please rise and give your name,

age, occupation and address.

My name is François Dervieux,
I'm 20 years old

and I live at no. 20...
29 rue Richelieu, Paris 1.

I'm an artist.

You're subject to a procedure
of direct summons.

You're appearing here for failure
to report for military service.

I shall briefly list the facts
of which you are being accused.

On January 20th, 1968

a police officer came to your house

because you didn't attend
the medical examination for call-up.

You refused to follow him.

When the police officer came back
with reinforcements,

you had disappeared.

You were arrested

when you went to the police office
to collect your passport.

Do we agree on this?

Yes.

Were you not aware of having
to complete national service?

I was but I didn't have time.

Are you making fun of us?

Mr Chairman, I...

Counsel, you'll be able
to speak later.

I call upon the government officer
for the prosecutor's final speech.

Failure to report
for military service

is punishable under article 397
of the code of military law.

All objectors justify themselves
with the same excuse,

thinking they know a better way
to spend their time

instead of dedicating it
to national defense.

Imagine what would become
of this defense

if all the young people eligible
for military service,

each with an occupation

totally worthy of priority,

reasoned like Mr. Dervieux.

This is why I'm asking you
to apply the maximum sentence

provided for by military law.

For this reason, I am asking
to sentence Mr Dervieux

to an irrevocable term
of imprisonment

of no less than six months.

The defense has leave to speak.

I fully agree with what's been said
by the government officer.

In fact, as a general rule,
if youths who've been called up

decide they have better things to do,
we wouldn't have an army.

But each general rule
has exceptions which confirm it.

Besides, among these young people

some, even though they're able,
as the government officer just said,

are not fit for military service.

That's my client's case

as his medical certificates show.

But this in fact doesn't show
that these young people

aren't capable of serving
the country by other means.

I'm talking about those with a gift
that brings honor to the Country.

In my opinion,

for as much as an opinion
of a contemporary may be worth,

my client is one of them.

He's a poet, a real poet.

His work would suffer irreparably,

being extremely sensitive,

from the rigors of military life.

If you read some of the poems
enclosed in his file,

I'm sure you'll share my opinion.

To conclude,

I'm asking you, gentlemen,
not to suffocate at birth

work which may count one day

amongst those that add
to the immortal glory of France.

I've finished, Mr Chairman.

The Rimbauds,
the Baudelaires, the...

they all need to be put in prison.

Thank you, Mr Counsel.

Automatically eligible.

Not exempt from the call-up of '68.

6 months of prison
with suspended sentence.

Declared unfit for military service,
number 2, with documents.

Do you want a puff of the bamboo?

Wanna try some?

Yes.

Sit down here.

Here.

Breathe in very slowly.

Things were horrific in Rome too.

Luc got grenade shrapnel
in the chest.

Many people got hurt here too.

And one person dead.

Breathe in slowly.

Come on.

Lie down.

Shit!

You two, take them to the cells.

Come on folks, to the lock-up.

Come on, show us!

- What?
- Come on, show us.

It's not funny.

Gunshot Hopes

Want some?

No, thanks.

I'm hot.

We've met before, right?

Yes.

In May, in the street.

You're very beautiful.

- Are you François?
- Yes.

- Are you a friend of Antoine's?
- I am.

- How do you know?
- I just do.

- Are you a friend of Antoine's too?
- It's not him.

- What?
- It's not him.

- Who? Your friend?
- No.

Who is it?

It's not him who told me.

That my name was François?

You write poetry?

Right?

You were told that my name was
François and that I wrote poetry?

Yes.

Who told you that?

That's what I was told.

- Tell me who told you.
- No.

- Okay, see you later.
- See you.

Go on, idiot!
Can't you see she's waiting for you!

You're right.

Could we stay here
together a bit longer?

- Will you wait?
- Sure.

It's fine.

"I miss the peace"

"The quiet lightness
that of this life a mirror makes

"where all is painted in an instant
and on which

"everything glides."

It's by Musset.

Do you know Musset?

No, not very well.

You know, apart from Verlaine,

no, also Baudelaire a bit.

Then,

I'll introduce you to poetry,

and you will introduce
me to sculpture.

That way we'll introduce each other
to the things we're really keen on.

Sheer pleasure, isn't it?

I work in a foundry
to earn my living.

Casting other people's sculptures.

But I like it.

Do you remember
we're meeting up tonight?

Yes.

Are you coming?

- What's wrong?
- Nothing.

Do you think I could have a bath?

I'll check, wait.

Yep.

You never told me what
your father did.

Do you really want to know?

No. But you know, in general...

He's a bastard.

Oh yeah? You're lucky.

Shall we swap?

I don't have one anymore.

He went to Heaven
when I was small.

In his place, a load of cash.

My real father is the cash.

And if you didn't have the cash?

With my cash,
would you be yourself?

There you are, the cash and me
are inseparable. The cash is me.

But I'm not it.

If I didn't have it,
it wouldn't be me,

and I wouldn't ask this question,

which I'm not doing actually,
you are.

It's the ones who have no cash that
wonder whether to have it or not.

For those who do have it,
it's not a question, it's obvious.

Is what I'm saying shocking you?
Are you shocked?

Are you crazy or what?

I wasn't joking. You are lucky.

Oh yeah?

Hating your father
makes you do things.

I don't hate him.
I feel sorry for him.

I'd like to live in a society where
fathers and sons don't hate each other.

That's nice.

Don't you believe in it?

I don't know.

You do believe in it
and that's what counts.

Don't you want to have a revolution?

I had it when I inherited.

With my cash I've created for myself
a kingdom without laws.

Not now!

Oh, Shad, it's you.

- Do you want anything?
- No, nothing.

So you think only the poor
will benefit from the revolution?

No, but I'm less
of an idealist than you.

One can try to take over the power
or at least to balance it,

but I don't believe
in human generosity.

You can't change values.

But don't worry, I'll help you guys.

Do you want some cash?

You can't make
a revolution with cash.

Lucky for me.

Do you want some?

I mean, just for yourself?

No, thanks.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

I think he was very much in love
with my mother and disappointed.

He threw himself into work.
Between Paris, Beirut, Geneva.

We had everything. He would send
her anything she asked for.

Money for clothes, traveling,
even if he wasn't there.

When he would come back, they
would pretend to love each other.

Why?

I don't remember much of him.
He died in an airplane crash

when I was... eight.

After that a friend of hers
moved in with us.

I had to call her godmother.

It's crazy.
Like that, from one day to another!

One night we were alone,
she brought a tray into my room...

- What for?
- Well, it was my christening.

Where are you off to?

We'll get some opium and come back.

Be careful.
Want a bit of camouflage?

You're freaking me out.

Calm down, if they wanted to get me,
they would've done it ages ago.

What is it you do that could be...

- Have done.
- What?

Tell me.

I used to dig up skulls
in cemeteries.

- How old were you?
- Fifteen.

- I also used to steal cars.
- When you were 15?

Time to go.

It's just down there, no. 35,
4th floor on the right.

Tell him that Jérome sent you.
If he doesn't know Jérome,

give him this.

Wait.

Take this.

Wait.

Why don't you come with me?

Are you scared?
Do you want me to go?

- No, we said I'd go.
- So it's not always the same person.

I'm going.

If they catch you, use my name.

Are you stupid or what?

As we said, I'll see you at home.

Later!

- Antoine?
- Yes!

I go up. I see your guy.

Take the pack, go back
to the entrance and then hesitate.

Try to hide it in a mailbox.
Can't do it.

I say to myself: "What an idiot!
There's nobody outside."

On the way out I see a dustbin.

Hide the pack in the dustbin.

Go outside.

"Hey, you!"

Two plain-clothes policemen.

"What were you doing in there?"

"I went to see a friend
but she's not in."

While I was talking to one,
the other was searching me.

"What's your friend's name?"

Thank God I had thought
about the mailboxes!

I remembered a name that I'd read,

similar to a friend's name.

So I tell him that surname hoping
he won't ask for the first name.

And it works.

Either they knew
everyone in the building

or I bluffed them.
One of the two says:

"Okay, get lost."
"Have a nice evening, gentlemen."

I walk away, then go back.

"Excuse me,
do you have any paper?

"I'd like to leave a note
for my friend."

One of the two
takes out a note-book,

pulls out a page and hands it to me.
Nice.

Nice.

I go in to the building.

Wait a bit as if I were
going up the stairs,

done.

Honestly, not bad.

The idea of the note was brilliant!

Imagine if it ended up
in a dumpster!

I don't care about poetry right now.

You're all that matters.

I can also work,

you know.

You should never give up
what you love.

I'm not. But for the moment
I've put it aside.

A friend of mine lives here.

He lives here, second floor.

Oh yeah?

Frédéric!

He's sleeping.

Look.

I've got clay under my nails.

I like walking with you at night.

And you?

Yeah, I do too.

"To close the eyes in the terrible
roar of nothingness."

What is it?

A poem that I wrote.

You'll never forget, will you?

What?

This, now.

No.

Promise me.

I promise.

Twice I thought I was in love.

Then I realized I wasn't listening

to the girls I was with.

I never managed to dream
about the girls my age.

Are you sure it's not going to rain?

Because there's a hole in my shoe.

Go.

Go!

- Hi.
- How are you, Joséphine?

This is Camille... Joséphine.

- How are you?
- Good.

Bye.

- Shall we get some fresh air?
- Yes.

Is something wrong?

No, why?

I don't know...

You're back early.

Is three o'clock early?

I'll make tea. You want some?

Do you know where Shad is?

I'm with a girl.

She's in my room.

- Take care of her.
- I will.

This is Christian's new number.

It's top secret.
Don't give it to anyone.

He's looking for you. I said to
come here. I thought he would choke.

Nothing resembles a priest
more than a militant.

You're talking rubbish.

They got it all.
They've got the truth.

It's not the Bible but the Red Book.
Where's the difference with a priest?

It's also the universal truth.

- Christian isn't Mao.
- Maybe not.

But it's the same.

Just like them, he thinks the masses
will teach him to make the revolution,

to live.

As if the masses
didn't do anything.

But who are, what are the masses?

Those who obey, those who follow.
But the masses haven't followed.

Even though the right conditions
were achieved,

it didn't work out. Why?

You're too impatient.

I'm not.

You're wrong.
I'll be delighted when it happens.

- Waiting for that moment to come...
- Wait.

Will your friends let us smoke dope?

Perhaps you should stop too.

Shad!

- Are you coming?
- Don't feel like it.

You go.

I don't feel like going without you.

Of course you do.

You take a book.

Take a short walk.

Have a look at another book.

Then go out.

- How is it going, François?
- Good. Look.

I was wondering whether I
should come to see you, Antoine,

or go to the nearest nightclub.

I chose the nightclub.

At least there
one knows how to act.

You're a bourgeois.

You play a part but you're a coward.

The others are no better. They're
losing the revolution indoors.

I shall never see you again.

Jean-Christophe.

Shit.

Grimy.

- What's this?
- Dross.

- What?
- Dross.

Opium that's been smoked.

By cooking it
I get opium that's second rate.

The poor eat it in the East.

They are called "dross eaters."

Luc...

Can you help me?

Hold this.

- Is it a new one?
- What?

Sorry.

- Where did you get it from?
- The usual.

You'll get caught one day.

One for my sister too.

Since you were there...

Will you join us?

I'm coming.

See you later.

They leave by car.
Drive through the Black Forest.

So...

The other two know it.
So they get there...

At a certain point, out of gas.

The guy stops the car and says:
"Don't move, honey.

"I'm going to get some gas."

He leaves her alone in the night.
She starts freaking out.

Says to her: "If there's..."
Do you want a puff?

"If there's a problem,
don't turn round. Don't do anything.

"Stay still."

The girl waits.
One hour, two hours, three.

She never sees him again.

When it goes well, you feel it.
It's like something

that goes from the stomach
all the way up to your head.

What are you talking about?
Fucking?

Idiot. No, when you're drawing.

When you make something good.

Something happens with one stroke
and you see it.

Enough for me. I'm done.
Otherwise it's too much.

Have you seen
"Before the Revolution"?

Look, it's by Makhno.

"An anarchist revolutionary made me
understand that half of our battle

"had been assimilated
by the masses fighting for freedom

"and independence
of individuals and humanity."

Makhno.

I've finished.

- Well, I think I have.
- Are you pleased, honey?

I don't know.
You'll have to tell me.

- Come and have a look at it later.
- I will, later.

They're the same.

I'd like to ask you something.

But I don't dare.

Come on, tell me. What is it?

I want to do it with
Antoine's cousin.

I find him attractive.

Well, go on then.

Are you okay with it?

You sure you won't scold me later?

I won't. Go ahead.

Are you sure?

I am.

You know what?

He's got the tiniest dick.

Much smaller than yours.

If only Antoine would buy
the painting!

We need it. We're overdrawn.

I know.

Is there anything missing?

No, I like it the way it is.

Something's bothering me here.

Some kind of imbalance.
Here, at the top.

I trust you.

I'll ask Antoine
what he thinks of it.

Can you come here a second?

- What is it?
- I'd like your opinion on this.

What do you think?

I'm buying it.

I'm asking you what you think.

And I'm telling you I'm buying it.

It's not aesthetic opinion,
it's charity.

- Don't you want me to buy it?
- I do.

But first, tell me
what you really think.

It's beautiful. I find it beautiful.
I want to have it.

Now, can I buy it?

If you really find it beautiful,

it's yours. I'd be delighted.

It's not beautiful enough
for a present.

Isn't it?

God, you're such a pain!

- Well then, I'm selling it to you.
- You're selling it to me?

- It all worked out fine in the end.
- Have you got any more weed?

Roll us a quick joint, will you?

- What's wrong with Léa?
- I don't know.

Two years ago there
were still cows here.

It's true, you know.

Come on, we're almost there.

Come on in.

She's on duty during the week.

Can you give me a hand?

We need to pull this down.

Wait, my finger! I was only joking.

Nice view, isn't it?

One can breathe.

Come and have a look.

- What?
- Come and have a look.

You're not showing
me family photos!

Why not?

What? What's wrong?

I wanted to show you photos
of my dad.

I'm sorry. Go on, show me.

Look.

Not these.

- Is that him?
- It is.

Let me see.

It's a beautiful photograph.

He came out well in it.

Like one of Pasolini's characters.

He does. I like it a lot.

He introduced me to drawing.

He had an artistic temperament.

He was extremely sensitive.
I admired him a lot.

He spent his life working in a factory.
He was in the Communist Party.

He was dreaming of leaving
everything and taking up painting.

He couldn't make his dream come true.

The fear of poverty.

We needed two incomes.

And my mother
was afraid of losing him.

Imagine, he changes his life,
starts meeting other artists...

And where's she in all this?

She was afraid
that he'd find another woman.

So she never let him do it.

And his work...
He used to work in a toy factory...

At times he would have a lump
in his throat. He'd leave work

and would walk in the streets.

Or he'd get home and sleep all day.

His boss was fond of him.
So he would catch up on Sundays.

I've kept his notebooks.
I'll show them to you.

He used to write stories
about his youth in Italy.

Like short stories.

He knew what it was like to starve.

I read them after his death.
I was beside myself.

He was illiterate. He would dictate
to a colleague of his.

That's why I'll never
give up sculpture.

And what's this?

A series that I've made.

It's part of a series
for art school.

Did you make them?

- Did you see?
- See what?

Did you see this?

What is it?

It's a sexy...

It belongs to one
of my mom's friends.

They make lingerie, a bit risqué,
for a specialized shop.

Let me see.

Honestly, they're not beautiful.

Do you think they're sexy?
Like them?

I don't know. No.

It makes me laugh. It's a little corny.

Your mother is very open-minded.

You could say that.

- She earns some money.
- So...

Money, I see.

You know, I'm getting married.

With Yvan.

With Yvan?

I thought it was over
between you two?

We got back together 2 months ago.

What a disaster!

I'm telling you, he's changed.

He won't do anything stupid,
he's afraid of losing me.

Charlene, you're out of your mind.

- Has he still got his little goatee?
- Oh no, that was horrible!

I made him shave it off.

He's got smooth skin
and hair till here.

What?

I'm giving him love lessons.

I make him do things
he's never done before.

He's discovering himself with me.

And at the same time, me too.

He's happy
and we get on really well.

That's incredible.

We're renting a one-bedroom flat.

- When are you two getting married?
- Next year.

Enjoy your meal!

So what about you?
You haven't told me yet.

- Are you in love at the moment?
- I am. Very much so.

Is it real love
or you're just having fun?

I think this time it's for real.

What does he do?

- He's a poet.
- Meaning?

He writes the most beautiful poetry.

He's very talented.

Is he married?

Why married? You're crazy,
he's 20 years old.

Well, that's better.

I wouldn't want you
to get in trouble. A poet...

Since it doesn't pay the bills,

I thought he was old,

married or shit like that.

You're too imaginative, Charlene.

No, he's a pure creature.

You know, I never used to mix
love with sex.

It's not because you sleep together
that you really love someone.

I always made the distinction.

But this time it's both.

Something deep.

Admiration...

and sex.

So, you don't cheat on him?

No.

No, I don't after all.

Even if at times I feel something...

But it's a fleeting desire.
A very strong drive.

But it doesn't count.

And also...

I adore making love to him.

We were hungry, but it was nice.

Sometimes we would steal...

A box of Camembert, some paté...

It was nice.

We had fun.

Do you remember my hunger strike?

Yes.

- No, nothing.
- What?

No, nothing.

I have to go. It's time.

- It was really good to see you.
- Me too.

Don't disappear
without sending any news.

I promise.

Will you come to see me in Savigny,
with François?

I will, I promise.

Bye. Safe journey.

Have a nice day.

What is it? You want to disappear
into my dreams?

So, you're madly in love?

It does you good. You look well.

I'm not joking, it's true.

Do you ever see Jean-Christophe?

But the problem,

the only real problem

is to solve
the contradiction between

the pleasure
of wearing bright colors

and the necessity
of wearing dark colors.

Why necessity?

Dark colors are better
than bright ones but less fun.

One has to choose between
seeing oneself and being seen.

For example,

you see, with this red,
purple, pink, green,

I look like a crazy parrot.

Whereas dressed in a suit from the
Bouquin shop window, in grey velvet...

You would look like a Fragonard.

Luc. I think you are cruel
and mean to me.

You say hurtful things.

I feel that you take
it all out on me.

And in these moments
I prefer to be elsewhere.

Léa.

I told you, I'm dead already.

Bursts of indifference

What is it?

Three is the right number.

All odd numbers are the right ones.

Seven.

Nine. Eleven.

I think I would get lost.

You can also get lost in two.

It's disgusting.

Why is it disgusting?

I guess I got scared.

Me too.

Two days is a long time.

I'm sorry.

Will you give me a smile?

I'm ready.

Where are you off to?

We're not going to the same place.

Aren't you having dinner with us?

Crowd is not my cup of tea.

Come! It'll be our treat.

You're very kind but no thanks.

Lend me your scarf.

Not a chance.
You can borrow my handkerchief.

Can you lend it to me?

What's wrong?

I've been working for ten hours.

I'll fix you something to eat.

- Nobody's here?
- No, nobody.

I'm trying to understand you.

Are you?

I don't need to. I know you.
I love you.

Oh really?
And how do you love me?

The way I'll never love anyone else.

Are you planning to?

- That I don't know.
- Are you serious?

I am.

Will you let me read
your father's stories?

If they're good
we'll try to publish them.

I've thought about it.

Perhaps one day but...

not now.

Tilt it a bit.

Go back.

- Everything okay?
- Yes, I found it.

It was under the bench.

I've got new commissions
for statues.

I'll need a model for sketches.

Would you pose for me?

- Naked?
- No.

I'll pay you.

I don't want to be paid.

- Why not?
- I'm not a model.

So you don't want to?

I don't know.

I have to think about it.

It's late.

Jean wants me to pose for him.

Jean wants me to pose for him.

How?

Like this. I mean, dressed.

Oh yeah.

Does he want to go out with you?

No.

Well, I don't know. Maybe.

He just needs a model.

You didn't think I would have
asked you for permission?

- Are you asking me for permission?
- I am.

Why? You don't need one.
You're free.

Well no. I love you.

Plus I'm sure
he'll pay me loads of cash.

Is he in love with you?

No, I think he's just generous.

"A load of cash" isn't
much for him.

A load of cash for us
is nothing for him.

I got a letter from my landlady.
She wants the room for her daughter.

If we have to go to a hotel...

We can stay at Antoine's place.

I don't want to stay there
for the rest of our lives.

The rest of our lives
may not be that long.

I want it to be very long.

I want us to be together
for a long time.

It's unbelievable,
the solitude in every man's heart.

Are you getting a cramp?

No, I'm okay.

Just there.

- Is it okay like that?
- Yes, thank you.

You would have your own studio,
time to work.

I would introduce
you to some people.

Art dealers, clients.

There's no prospects in France.

No. This is dross.

Here, this is opium.

- Can I read you one of my poems?
- If you like.

It's called "The ideal bed".

Well, I'm reading it then.

"The clouds, a few snowy puffs

"Are there, before the blue

"That you can't imagine
them different

"They look like angels

"In that bed slept the one

"whose eyes awaken

"To that sky in oblivion"

"To that sky...

"in oblivion"

I'll find her again one day.

It's very nice.

It's very nice.

You scared me.

I dreamt that you weren't there.

You're crazy.

It was a nightmare.

I'll always be with you.

Whatever happens.

You swear?

Yes, I swear.

Let's go to sleep now.

Okay.

Police, open up!

Just a minute,
I can't find the keys!

Hide the weed!

I'm coming!

I'm sorry, I didn't have the keys.

Good morning, Sir.

Police officer Lefévre.

Blanchard, the bailiff.

I've got a court order here.

For unpaid fines...

- Oh yes, the fines.
- Since...

1965.

Do come in. I'll be right with you.

It's an artist's studio.

- Did you do these?
- No.

Mister... A relative?

No, I'm a friend of Antoine's.

Not bad.

Modern but...

It is, quite.

I'm a bit of a collector too.

Of less modern things but...

Not bad.

So, how much do I owe you?

You wouldn't have a pen, Sir?

Are you also an artist?

No, I'm a student.

Nothing wrong with that.
No need to be scared.

- Here you are.
- That's fine. Thank you.

- I didn't fill in the name.
- I'll do it.

Thank you.
I'd forgotten about the fines.

It's okay.
It gives us something to do.

- Goodbye, gentlemen.
- Goodbye.

You forgot your pen.

- Just pull here.
- Thank you.

- Have a nice day.
- Same to you.

- Do they suspect something?
- Of course.

Of course they do.

I'm sorry.

It's my fault. I should have...

But it's not that serious.

No, of course.

LILIE

You know, the first time,

sometimes girls can't do it.

The anxiety...

I was afraid of my father.

Although I really liked that guy.

We were both longing for it.

It happened with another
while we were still together.

You can eat if you like.

No, I'm not hungry.

Sit down.

I'm making soup.

- Don't you want to sit at the table?
- I'm fine here.

Here.

Do you think Antoine loves me?

You can tell me.

That's a good one!

So, you stayed in Normandy?

To do something
we'd never done before.

Spend the weekend in the best hotel
without leaving the room...

But that costs a month's salary.

Laura has a rich husband,
she can afford these things.

Police!

Good evening, gentlemen.
Face the wall.

Nothing on you?

Do you have anything on you?

No.

No, I've got nothing.

- They've got nothing.
- Very well. Thank you, gentlemen.

- Have a nice evening, gentlemen.
- Goodbye.

Do you think
we're on their black list?

It's obvious.

It could be by chance.
Man, you're paranoid.

You'll see in prison if I am...

No, he's right.

In the meantime,
let's go the other way. Come on.

Don't go there.

- I said come on!
- What?

I've got to tell you something.

What is it?

You know what I'm going to do?

I'm going to leave Paris
and move to Morocco.

- You're not!
- I am.

I've got a house and friends there.

An old Moroccan friend.

He can get me work
as a trainee at his newspaper.

With all that's going on here,
it's now or never.

So, the code word?

A code word? What's that?

Well, the code word.

Code: We explode.

We explode.

Explodium.

Honey, why are you here?

What are we going to do now?

Where will we go?

Do you remember
my brother Fabrice?

A friend of his organized
a jazz concert in Morocco.

As the Moroccans didn't have
any money to pay the musicians,

they gave them
four tons of hashish.

What? Four tons of hashish?

How do you transport it?

- You don't.
- And so?

You stay there, smoke it all
and never come back.

Morning is Italian.
Night is German.

Good hash, the sea, the sun.

You won't get bored there,
you lucky bastard.

There, I'm ready for Morocco.

Can a girl lend me
a black eye-liner?

Here you go.

"The Moroccan" by Matisse.

I'm ready for Morocco.

The suit...
I would need something with stripes,

something more...

- Camille, can I have a look at yours?
- Go ahead.

You're so chic!

He's not well.

He's not well.
Don't know what's wrong with him.

- Is it acid or pure LSD?
- I don't know.

- Did you give it to him?
- I don't know where he got it from.

- You didn't give to him?
- No!

Did you give it to him?

Gauthier!

Did you give it to him?

No, but it's fun.

It cracks you up.

Gauthier freaked out.

He freaked out...

How are you going to manage
without a studio?

I don't know.

Let's talk about it tomorrow.

Now I'll make some mint tea.

Mint tea.

Shit!

What are you doing? Are you nuts?

What is it? Why did you do it?

What's wrong?

What?

Your cash, I'll pay you back.

I'll call you at the hospital.

Mister Antoine left this for you.

Thank you very much.

Go.

Idiot!

Come on, I feel like walking.

I'm going to the States.

I thought he'd already left.

Hasn't he?

He has.

Then why are you going there?

- Do you want to join him?
- Yes.

OK.

What about me?

He's beautiful
on the inside and the outside.

He turns me upside down.

I never told him anything.

Perhaps because I knew.

Asking him to wait for me
wouldn't be fair.

You've got your life, a man you love.
You're having a baby.

And I'm just chasing it.

I don't know.

Remember my hunger strike?
I wanted to die then.

You gave me a lecture.

You shook me out of it.

Don't do anything stupid.

I'll always be there if you need me.

I know.

Do you think we'll
see each other again?

Of course, are you crazy?

Of course we will.
New York isn't all that far.

Plus I'll have to come
to see your little one.

- What time is your flight?
- 8:50.

I'll take you to the airport.

No, I've called a cab.

I promised I wasn't a communist.

At the American Embassy
they make you sign a form

where you swear that you're not
a communist or a drug addict.

Did you do that?

So, the keys...

And this?

Take it with you.

Are you sure
you don't want me to come?

No, it's okay.

Since I moved to Brooklyn.
I hardly ever leave this area.

I share a studio with a
Hungarian friend, a sculptor like me.

We support one another

and encourage each other.

You really need that here.
So you don't feel too much

like a lonely animal in the jungle.

Two boxes

of reward coupons.

Then...

Two squared exercise books,

big ones.

Then I need a copy
of "Fables" by La Fontaine.

Let's recap...

25 pens, 40 exercise books,

2 boxes of chalk, 2 erasers,
2 boxes of reward stickers,

"Fables" by La Fontaine...

I think that's all.

Let's have a look.

I'm missing... No, nothing.

For the bursar's office...

What's this doing here?
USP... Contributions...

That's not it.

I must tell you
that I am now an anarchist.

The others make me sick.

I have great news.

After a year,
I finally got my work permit.

It's such a relief...

How is it going?

Some interesting things
are happening.

The revolution and stuff...

Movements are being formed.
I'll tell you everything.

After a year,
I finally got my work permit.

It's such a relief

from all points of view.

The sleep of the just

Oh look, a star!

Come, honey.

Come. Take this one.

Put it down. It's rotten.

A comet streaks by
with all its speed!

Coma?

Dead.

François thought: "Will this idiot
policeman ever stop talking rubbish?"

But since François
may have screwed up himself.

He died that morning.