All language subtitles for The.War.Is.Over.1966.FRENCH.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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THE WAR IS OVER

You crossed.

Once more you look
at the Biriatou hill.

The crossing always feels tame,
yet slightly harrowing.

You've driven all night.

Your mouth is dry
from lack of sleep and tobacco.

You cross the border once more

in the shimmering morning light.

Behind you the sun rises
on the heights of Elizondo.

You're crossing once more.

It's all right.

You'll catch your train.

All night
I thought we'd break down.

But I did have the car serviced.

An obsession.
You know how it is.

At night, on the road
between Burgos and Miranda,

desert all around us.

Service stations in your country

aren't up to scratch.
I didn't dare push the car.

I was scared. But for you,
I'd have played the tourist.

A nice fish supper,

crab in a spicy sauce
with Ribeiro wine,

or roast suckling pig
behind the Plaza Mayor.

And this afternoon,
a bull running.

I never usually visit
the towns I pass through.

I've still not been to the Prado
in Madrid.

I can tell you:

when you said we had to go,
I was furious.

You could tell.

We usually talk all night.
There, you pretended to ignore me.

I planned 3 days,
my wife's running the book shop.

The Prado, Toledo, Aranjuez…
Amounts to 3 days' holiday.

When you read the letter I brought
and made me go,

I was pretty annoyed.

I'd ruined your trip.

Complain to the Spanish police.

It's busy.

It's Easter.
They spend the day in Spain.

They've less time
to check passports.

- What did you do before?
- Before?

When the border was closed.

Go through the mountains.

Sometimes we'd meet
the Civil Guard.

And?

We'd shoot our way through.

- With you, no problem.
- What?

You don't sound
anything like you're Spanish.

I forget it myself.

I smuggled a friend over
who didn't speak a word of French.

He pretended to be dozing.

If they'd asked him a question,
our goose was cooked.

It's a piece of cake with you.

Pull over into the police bay.

- Why? I'm in a hurry.
- Police checks.

Let's go.

- What is all this?
- I know no more than you.

Your papers are in order?

Remember what we agreed.

Leave the key in the ignition.
Come with me.

- And the bags?
- You can leave them there.

Got something against black IDs?

Yes.

Thank you.

I bought books off him,
that's how we met.

Mr René Sallanches,
are you holidaying around here?

Yes.

- Alone?
- Yes, alone.

You live in Paris,
4 rue de l'Estrapade?

No. 7.

You met Mr Jude
in his bookshop in Hendaye?

That's right.

What's Mrs Jude's first name?

Marie. She's charming.

You have a phone in Paris?

Of course.

Médicis 33-74.

Ledoux? Call it right away.

It's Sunday.
You'll wake Nadine.

Nadine?

I said you hadn't had an accident,
but she was worried.

- Hello, Nadine?
- You ran over an old lady?

No. It's all right.

Just a formality.

These things happen.

Are you staying in tonight?

Fine. I'll see you at home tonight.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, darling.

- They searched the car.
- Of course.

What did you tell him?

That you were on holiday,

that you bought books from me,
we became friends

and decided I'd fetch you
from Spain.

"In Madrid?" he asks.

"Yes. What's the difference?"

He says:
"Quite a drive in 24 hours.

"Not much time
to see the scenery."

That annoyed me.

I said:
"Driving relaxes me."

Is the Sud-Express next?

That's right, 9.55.
First class only.

9.55?
So I've time to see Antoine.

- I can run an errand.
- I've time.

We shouldn't be seen there together.

I'll drop you at home

and tell Antoine to meet you
15 minutes before the train goes.

It's safest.

And then, suddenly,
my mind goes blank.

Nothing there at all.

I'd forgotten René Sallanches'
telephone number.

It's over.

I thought, "That's it. It's over.

"We'll be caught
because of this tiny detail."

It was impossible
to predict who would speak.

If the inspector chose
René Sallanches,

we'd be undone.

So the passport's fake
and the phone number's real?

No. It's all real.
René Sallanches,

passport, daughter,
phone, everything.

It's just my identity that's fake.

The photo changes.
That's all.

Yes. If you like.

You see, Marie,
it's not very complicated.

OK.

You know all about
the Sallanches family.

Your answers are correct.

But they know nothing about you.

Well, the person using the passport.

Yet they've not made a mistake.

No. They've not made a mistake.

That's my star.

If I didn't have a star,

I'd be long dead or behind bars.

Nadine will explain.

The Sallanches daughter.
She replied.

- You know her?
- No. I know nobody.

I know everything,
but not them.

Funny you mention a star.

I've always thought that.

Some beings have a star.

- You never went to their place?
- Never.

They checked us by chance?

Of course. Why?

They've stopped another ID,
a black one, too.

I didn't notice.

One suspicious car
and they search them all.

Same model, same colour.

Why suspicious?

Smuggling still goes on.

Sometimes they're looking for gold.

And?

They come across propaganda
hidden in the bodywork.

And what happens?

Depends. If it's in France,
prison, a fine or house arrest.

Nothing dreadful.

If it's in Spain…

It's time to open the store.

I'll get some sleep.
Antoine must be at the station.

- Maybe the friend came by.
- Impossible.

- I know him?
- You must have smuggled him.

But under what name…

Something about this business
bothers me.

How did they know I'd been to Madrid?

He couldn't know.

The inspector was bluffing
and hit the bull's-eye.

You're sure these arrests in Madrid
haven't blown your cover?

The Spanish police
wouldn't have let me go.

You don't think?

- Good luck, Carlos.
- Thanks.

Goodbye.

- Thanks.
- You're welcome.

Hi, Raphaël.

- Has Juan arrived?
- We've heard nothing.

He hasn't called to say?

I often don't know who's coming.
I just prepare a car.

First class for Paris
and a platform ticket.

Much traffic lately?

Two cars for Andalusia yesterday.
Free holidays for us.

A car for Bilbao,
like every fortnight.

I've a car ready,
but I don't know who for.

- For how long?
- The whole week.

- It could be Juan's.
- He'll go via Perpignan.

Why?

He does crossings close together.

Perpignan…

Who's the friend who looks after
Perpignan crossings?

It's not my sector.
What do you want in Perpignan?

What's happened to Juan?

The bookseller brought a letter
saying he's headed for Madrid.

We must stop him going.

The papers didn't mention arrests.

It's only just started.

If Juan shows, keep him here
awaiting instructions.

I think he'll go via Perpignan.

Perpignan. Right.

Leaves Bayonne at 3.34pm
for Toulouse.

You get into Toulouse at 8.34pm.

There's a connection to Narbonne
at 9.13pm.

And in Narbonne, at 11.01pm,

a train for Perpignan
arriving at 11.55pm.

Not great.

No, it's not.

Juan didn't cross,

but maybe he was sent
via Perpignan.

You can't do anything alone.

Antoine is right.

You don't know the friend
who does crossings in Perpignan.

You should go to Paris.
Juan mustn't have left.

You'll find him at home.

You must see the friends today

and explain the situation
in Madrid.

Nobody must go there.

Especially not Juan.
He'd fall into the trap.

- Without Lucienne, it won't work.
- You reckon?

- What will she do?
- She's used to it.

- Used to it in Royan?
- She wasn't at home.

Lucienne didn't just go like that.
Something happened.

You're being rather dramatic.

I have my reasons.

- She must miss Lucienne.
- Didn't she tell him to come?

The Marcels will make 2.

Unless they bring Pierre.
Raoul said he'd come.

His daughters, sons-in-law.
Without Lucienne…

Lucienne will be first there,
you'll see.

If she hasn't been told,
it'll fall flat.

We're going to a party,
it'll be happy.

If everyone looks
as gloomy as that…

Lucienne isn't family.

So what if she's not family?

If she's missing,
the family will look great!

Arrivals

- Antonio sent me.
- Sorry?

Is this Mrs Lopez's?

Not at all.
Bernadette Pluvier.

I wanted to see Mrs Lopez.

No Mrs Lopez here.

Building G, 10th floor, door 107.

That's here.
But there's no Mrs Lopez.

I must be mistaken.

Excuse me.

Was this Mrs Lopez repatriated?

I don't think so.

It's the name.
There are quite a few around here.

Thank you. Goodbye.

Goodbye.

You came to see Juan,

a year ago.

Building G, 10th floor,

door 107, Mrs Lopez.
You think you remember.

But there's no more Juan,
no more Mrs Lopez.

Maybe it was another
building G, another 10th floor.

Maybe Juan's gone.
Juan will fall into the trap.

Roberto.
You must find Roberto.

She'll know something's happened

to her husband.

You didn't want to see her.
Now you need her.

She can lead you to Roberto.

Last Thursday at 6pm,

Andrés missed a meet
in the botanical garden.

You drank a beer,

in the Café Nacional.

You'll see Andrés the next day,
at the back-up meet.

At dusk, however,

signals indicated danger.

The printer comrade
didn't go home.

His brother told our friends.

The small world we inhabit
has become disturbed,

full of traps.

By Friday, it was obvious
Andrés had disappeared.

And Luis, and Justo, and Ricardo.

We started fighting

against this sweeping round-up,

cutting the ties that bound
one group to another,

suspending all contacts,

establishing new liaison systems.

But Andrés had disappeared.
He has disappeared.

As he could have done
any day for 15 years.

Carmen accepted it in advance,
anxious and angry,

this disappearance
that strikes her now.

Thursday evening at 6 o'clock,

Andrés didn't come to the meet
in the botanical garden.

You must tear her from this pain,
this solitude.

She knows where to find Roberto
on this Aubervilliers Sunday,

among the houses emptying
in the Sunday dusk,

among the Sunday lights.

It's Roberto who organises trips.

The only one
who knows where Juan is,

the only one who can catch Juan
before he disappears too.

He hates bad news.

Arrests upset him.

Not only because friends are caught

and he has to start
months of work from scratch,

sometimes years,

but because the world's reality
resists us,

because he saw our action
as a dream of progress.

He hates that reality
doesn't match his dream.

He almost resents you,

as if you were the messenger

of this unpredictable,
opaque reality.

Ramón!

You have a visitor.

Shit! Carlos!

- Why are you shouting?
- Ramón!

Carlos… What are you doing here?

You've put on weight.

Yes. That's age and the good life.

Did Juan get off?

Juan left at noon.
I finished his car last night.

Left via where?

Perpignan.
Isn't he going to Barcelona?

Yes. Barcelona.

At noon?

Not till then?
So when does he cross?

- Where is he tonight?
- Perpignan.

Tomorrow he'll meet the friend
who'll get him in Madrid.

And he'll cross after.

We can call him back.

There's no point.

It's too late anyway.

Can't you telephone in Perpignan?

No. It's not wise.

Come on,
we can send a telegram.

One of us can get to Perpignan
in time.

What's happening?
Why does Juan have to come back?

He shouldn't go to Madrid.
They're making arrests.

Who's been caught?

Andrés and three friends
on the Madrid committee.

The printer's too.
When I left, it hadn't finished.

- You told Carmen?
- Yes.

We must wait for more news
to see how serious it is.

You know our friends there,
tend to exaggerate. Only natural.

They think everything is collapsing.

No… They're too close
to things to see them clearly.

Do we see them better 2000km away?

Sure. We have an overall view.

And Juan?

Juan's in no danger.
He's in Barcelona till Wednesday.

There's less danger in Perpignan.
I'll take the decision.

No. I'm in charge of journeys.

There are vital things to do.
Every minute counts.

Have you gone mad in Paris?
It has done for 25 years.

Why 25 years?

The general strike's in 12 days.

This year May 1st will be serious.

May 1st comes every year.
But Juan won't be coming back.

If he's caught,
it'll be 20 years and one day.

We'll talk about the strike tomorrow.

If you want someone to go
to Barcelona, I will.

It'd be a change from this routine.

Is your wife routine too?

These Breton women are wonderful.

I talk about a secret trip
to pick up a guy,

and you'd think I want a holiday.

Don't just stand there.
Have a drink.

Bring it out here.
I have to finish the car.

- How did it start?
- As always, I imagine.

Of course.
It's always the same.

No. Not as always.

They struck several spots at once.

The propaganda friends
were taken all together.

Trapped in their safe house.

It's the first time that's happened.

It could be dangerous for Juan.

The hit happened in his sector

and he's been going there for years.

Hasn't it been years for you too?

Yet you're here with us.

Luis's wife heard the police
talking amongst themselves.

They said they had the photo
of a leader from Paris

and would arrest him.
That can only be Juan.

This photo business
is a tall story!

The police spread rumours.

Thursday, when Andrés was arrested,
you had a meet with him.

Yet you're here.

Because there are no photos
and Andrés won't talk.

It's quite simple.

They struck to pre-empt
the coming movement.

So what?
They've been striking for 25 years.

It's natural in a war!

- Don't get upset.
- I'm not upset, I'm shouting.

It means nothing.
It's this crazy life.

It's gone on too long.

Marianne should be waiting.

You haven't told her yet?

She had to leave Paris, you know.

And I didn't come for her.
I came for Juan.

- Yes. She had to leave Paris.
- Why?

It's Easter.

That's right. I forgot.

If you'd rather,
come and sleep here.

Maybe. Thanks.

Goodbye.

Is it you?

Depends.

It was you who phoned.

I recognise your voice.

I was waiting for you.

Come.

Isn't your father here?

If he was,
you'd be God knows where.

You don't know how true that is.

I do.

He wants to talk to my father.

I say he's away.
Which is true.

For once the truth is useful.

What happened at the border?

The usual spot checks.
Just routine.

The phone call
could spoil everything.

They mentioned Spain,
and I understood right away.

My dad had told me
about his passport.

We've a weakness for Spain
in the family.

I pretended to panic,
I asked questions…

Even demanded to talk to my father.

The perfect concerned daughter!

You're a cool one.
You got me out.

I'm used to it.

And was I the affectionate father?

When my father's affectionate,
he never calls me "my darling".

He calls me "Nana".

An unimportant incident, no doubt.

I still need them to do a check.

- When's your father back?
- Tomorrow night.

He needs to find his passport
with the photo,

so he can show it if need be.

I'll bring it tomorrow.

- You're leaving?
- Yes.

If I hurry,
I'll catch the 10 o'clock showing.

What job do you do?

- Apart from this, I mean.
- Nothing.

- And always have?
- For ages.

And before?

I think I wanted to write,
like everyone.

No. What you do
is much more exciting.

- So you're a full-timer?
- Exactly.

- A real one?
- Yes.

It must be a great job to do.

How are these passports doctored?

You can't see
the photo's been changed?

You'd need to check
against Prefecture records.

No files at the border.

Show me.

So you could be my father?

Yes, Nana.

You're leaving?

Yes.

You're expected?

Yes.

What's your real name?

When I'm called by my real name,
I jump.

What is it?

Domingo.

That means Sunday.

Hello, Sunday.

Hello, Nana.

- What time tomorrow?
- After lunch.

No later than 3.30.
I have a date.

Nadine Sallanches.
7 rue de l'Estrapade, 3rd floor.

Born October 26 1944.

Studied at Lycée Fénelon.

Starts a literature degree this year.

Speaks fluent English and Spanish.

Lives with her father,
a civil engineer,

often away with his job.

1.65m.

Dark hair, brown eyes.
Appendicitis operation 3 years ago.

Is that me?

It's the notice I was given
with my passport.

It's detailed work.

You could say that.

It's the broad lines that we miss.

See you tomorrow.

Goodnight, Sunday.

Diego?

You…

I'm not alone.
We're working.

To think I dawdled back.

I was sure you'd left Paris.

Nobody told me.

Nobody knew.
It was unexpected.

- Diego…
- Yes?

That's all.

Just saying your name. You're here.

I'm happy.

I'm going.

- Again?
- Tomorrow.

- You know Agnès?
- No.

I thought you'd already met.

- I don't think so.
- Definitely not.

You've never seen Agnès?

No, never.
Anyway, it's impossible.

Diego is always travelling.

Always?

Every time I tried
to introduce myself,

you were away.

I even wondered
whether you really existed.

Well, as you can see, I do.

Excuse me.

Stay with us. We've finished.

It's Jeanine and Bill.
They'll be glad to see you.

We're preparing a book
on the cities of the world.

Well, on the way the city
speaks to its inhabitants

and how they reply,
how that becomes a language.

It's complicated to explain
but simple in pictures.

We take Bill's photos

and mix them with Topor's drawings.

I'm doing the mock-up.

Bill's off to Brazil.

We're making a first choice
before he goes.

Making the most of Easter.

We're away from the bustle here.

They won't understand
if you don't come and say hello.

A bite to eat, Diego?

No. I ate on the plane.

It was fine.

The fountains are still there.

Fountains?

The fountains.

What fountains?

The fountains of the Piazza Navona,

the Pincio fountains…
All the fountains.

Have you never been to Rome?

Rome? Yes, of course.
Why were you in Rome?

For work.
Didn't you know I sometimes work?

A Unesco teaching conference.

Aren't you sick
of being an interpreter?

It's well paid,
there are no taxes…

You work 6 months a year
and travel.

I've no ambition.

It's late.

- We'll leave you now.
- You're right, it is late.

Looks like it's moving in Spain.

Yes. As Marianne says:
"It moves, but it doesn't change."

And what do you say?

Nothing.

I'm your friend, Diego.

The things I have to say
won't please anyone.

I'm not sure I like them.

Poor unfortunate Spain,

heroic Spain,
I'm fed up with it.

It's the lyrical clear conscience
of the left,

a myth for veterans.

But 14 million tourists
spend their holidays in Spain.

A tourist's dream
or the legend of the civil war.

All that mixed with Lorca's plays.
I'm fed up with them.

Enough sterile women.

And enough of legends.

I wasn't at Verdun,
I wasn't at Teruel.

And those doing things
weren't either.

The past doesn't motivate them,
the future does.

Spain isn't the dream of 36,
it's the reality of 65.

Even if it seems disconcerting.

30 years have past.
And veterans bore me.

I'm sorry, I…

None of this is very clear.

- Are you working tomorrow?
- Yes.

See you tomorrow, then.

That's right.

- Goodnight.
- I'm staying on.

You're staying?

Yes. I have to help Marianne
put away the photos.

Yes. Then I'll take you home.

Agnès lives in Saint-Cloud.
The last train's gone.

Goodnight to you too.

What's up with that cow?

You talked about Rome and Unesco.

I'd said you were in Brussels
for the UN.

They'll think I'm a liar.
Never mind.

Why just you?
If you lied, I lied.

Our life will look like a lie.

You heard Agnès?
A fake couple with a fake life.

Maybe it looks like that.

But it's not true.

No.

It wasn't a lie for me.

You talked about fountains
and I was happy.

At this hour,
the Piazza Navona must be deserted.

You can hear the water.

- Where are you going?
- Taking Agnès home.

Can't she get a taxi?

She's broke at the moment.
It was agreed.

Saint-Cloud's miles away!

Isn't it best to tell them the truth?

Put an ad in the paper.

You can tell people like
Jeanine and Bill anything.

Can we tell your Agnès anything?

Don't you think they have doubts
when you talk like that?

No. Bill doesn't suspect a thing.

He's a photographer.
He's doing what he does.

We can't tell anybody
as a matter of principle.

- Your principles scare me.
- There've been arrests.

Friends were caught.

I want to have your child.
This is no life.

What is a life, then?

Your child.
Do you realise?

We'll talk about it calmly.

You don't talk about babies calmly.

Then you could go, leave me.
Forget me, if you want.

It's not the right time.

It is. It is the time.

When did these arrests start?

Thursday. Three days ago.

What do you want, when that happens?

What do you mean, want?

Do you want to go on,

do things,
even though you're alone?

You're never alone.

They must know that we exist.

That's right.

I'll be back.

Agnès? Shall we go?

Hi, Patrick!

A star is personal, madam.

A tiny little star
for internal use.

A starfish for all seasons.

"For patience and irony

"are the main virtues
of the Bolshevik."

"My name is Nana."

And I am Sunday.

Six months without seeing you,
Diego.

It's not possible.

If you had to stay here,
I don't know…

If it was too dangerous
to go to Madrid,

would you miss it?

I'd miss Spain.

Truly.

Like something you'd really miss,

whose absence
could become unbearable.

The friends.

The strangers who open their door,
whom you recognise

and who recognise you.

We're together.

Spain, friends…

That's your life.

The other day,
I almost slept with a man.

Why?

I thought I wanted to.

No. Why are you telling me?

Would you tell me?

I don't know.

Why didn't you?

Because…

a time always comes
when you've finished

making love to a man.

Or else…

he has to leave, disappear.

Waking up
to someone other than you?

It's unimaginable.

After that, it becomes complicated.

Don't you think?

I'm hungry.

I thought you had dinner
on the plane from Rome.

Nine years ago, you lied to me.

A rain of lies
so I wouldn't know

what you were doing in Rome.
- Of course.

You told me to call you Francisco,

then Raphaël, then Carlos.

I spent months in Rome and Paris

finding out the truth
behind your lies.

They weren't lies.

They were barriers.

Against what?

Revolutionaries don't expect
to fall in love.

What do they expect?

Patience. Lots of patience.

I'm hungry.
Have you nothing to eat?

Next year, if you spend
your time in Madrid,

I'll move there.

Move? What do you mean?

Live there. Find a job
that allows me to follow you.

I like having homes everywhere.

In Madrid?

You hardly know 10 words of Spanish.

I learnt French well enough.

And a job… What job?

The same.
They do make books in Spain.

My 80,000 francs a month
won't get us far.

I thought you got a raise.

You're right: 87,500.

And how much do you earn?

300,000 a month?
You'll never get that.

But I don't need that.

I need you.

Anyway, it's unthinkable.

A woman where you're working,
multiplies the risks.

Was last time serious?

Do I know the friends
who were arrested?

- Juan…
- He was arrested?

No. Not yet.
That's why I came back.

But I'm sure they have his photo
and wait for him in Madrid.

Ivry, Porte des Lilas,
Six-Routes, Quatre Chemins,

Aubervilliers,
la Poterne des Peupliers,

Victor Hugo, Jaurès,
Paul Vaillant-Couturier…

You know these suburbs backwards.

You come from your land

to this exile landscape
each time you come back.

You'll find the men dry,
indefatigable, worn-out,

precise in detail,
lost in a big dream.

Friends.

This irreplaceable fraternity,

eroded by the unreal.

In Ivry, for whole days,
or Aubervilliers,

trying to rebuild your country,
make it resemble memories,

obstinately squeezing your dreams

into the distant reality
of Spain.

- Hello, comrades.
- Hello.

"According to information
from official sources,

"over the last few days,
the Spanish police has been involved

"in a vast preventive operation

"amongst the extreme-left
workers' opposition.

"A printing works was found

"and arrests were carried out,

"including those of leaders
smuggled over from France.

"It seems this operation is linked

"to the unrest amongst
Spanish workers in recent months."

- Coffee. I know you like that.
- It's a good idea.

I'll do the shopping.

If anyone rings, don't open.

You feel like
you've been through it before.

You dig up words spoken
over the years.

How many times have you come
after arrests,

after a fall?

They call that a fall in Spanish.

They say that a friend fell,

or a printer's fell,
an organisation fell.

Sooner or later you fall,
they say.

Everyone falls.

It's a long march
punctuated with falls.

How many times have you come

to look for reasons,
to decide on measures?

Andrés didn't come to the meet
in the botanical garden.

That's when it all began,
Thursday night, 3 days ago.

Carlos presented us with a totally
subjective view of the situation.

He exaggerates the consequences
of the arrests.

He seems to have lost
all political perspective.

What situation
gives rise to these arrests?

It's a political offensive
of the working class,

university lecturers, farmers.

A situation where the dictatorship
is gripped by panic.

Even police measures

reflect the regime's fear
of these mass movements.

They won't be able to stop

the movement
advancing and spreading.

This is the eve
of a general strike.

That's why we sent Juan
to Madrid

with precise guidelines
and directives.

We must give the movement
organic coherence,

a unique objective.

That objective
is the general strike.

The conditions for it exist.

We must strike now,
we must fix the dates.

We've fixed them.

The strike is planned
for April 30th.

And on May 1st, demonstrations
will take place in every town.

Carlos does not agree
with the slogan.

He says we must take
real possibilities into account.

What does that mean,
"real possibilities"?

That we must let
political situations ripen?

That'd be opportunism,
pure and simple.

You never said we should
indulge in spontaneity.

You're just contesting
a form of action,

in certain circumstances.

Strikes are not the only
form of struggle,

the inevitable outcome
of partial movements.

Lenin criticised
the theory of strikes,

eclipsing other means of struggle.

If you want to talk about Lenin,
let's talk about Lenin.

You accuse us of voluntarism.

But Lenin proved
that a dose of voluntarism,

of revolutionary subjectivism,
is indispensable.

Your critique is purely negative.

What are you really proposing?

You try explaining
that it's not the idea of striking

you're criticising,

but the conditions
of its application.

You deny the possibility
of a national strike on April 30th,

because the required conditions
aren't met.

A failure can turn the masses
from this type of action.

You deny that exiles can decide

the form of a strike in Spain.

We can't put ourselves
in Madrid workers' shoes

or decide for them.

The underground apparatus
can only be the organiser,

the instrument of the masses.
It can't take their place.

Why do you oppose
exile and interior,

the underground and the masses?

Carlos wasn't taken in
by the arrests.

That'd be absurd.

He's shown he won't be
easily impressed.

But he lacked
political perceptiveness.

What's the situation?

Juan is in Barcelona.

He's meeting Carlos in Madrid
next Thursday.

But Carlos is here
and Juan left to himself.

We must intercept Juan
in Barcelona,

and set up another meet
so he can contact Madrid.

We must multiply the trips,
and therefore the risk percentage.

That's the result
of Carlos's precipitation.

However,
if Carlos had stayed in Madrid,

he could have followed the round-up
on an hourly basis.

Juan would have been protected
by Carlos being in Madrid.

The consequences
of a lightly-taken decision,

with no thought
for the action's demands

or the decisions taken
at the command centre.

You won't go to Barcelona.
You'll stay here.

Ramón will go to Barcelona
and take Juan to Madrid.

You've spent 6 months in Spain,

gripped in the spiral
of daily action.

You're blinded by the details
of partial reality,

dozens of real details
blurring your vision.

You'll take a rest.
Think about things.

We have to talk with you
and convince you.

You're staying here.

Sallanches.

Sallanches…

Sallanches, René.

Born October 17 1922.

Sorry.

Hello, Bill?

Yes. Working hard?

Yes, put her on.

What's going on?

I'm not going.

Yes. I'm staying with you.

Sad? No. Why should I be sad?

Yes. For a long time.

Maybe always.

We'll go on holiday.

All right, then.
See you tonight.

Feet in the water and sun
for all your holidays

Nadine?

Yes? Who is it?

- It's Sunday.
- No. It's Monday.

I know. I'm Sunday.

Aren't you coming?

No. I couldn't.
I've got your thing.

I have to go out.

I know you've a meet
but where?

You won't come?

No. Just so I know.

At La Chope. You see?

Yes, I see it.

- Why are you laughing?
- No reason.

- Is 6pm OK for you?
- Fine. Where?

In the Bullier centre lobby,
6 o'clock.

How odd! Why not at home?

I'd rather not.

The Bullier centre suits me.

See you at 6, then.

- Yes, sir?
- An espresso.

Would you have a cigarette?

You can keep them.

There are cops everywhere!

I don't know. I'm not used to it.

I am. I work for them.

Nobody followed me.

Huh! There were 3 of them in a car.

You're sure?

Nadine, I know what I'm saying.

They can't be.
I went the wrong way down streets.

One guy got out and followed you.

I was behind him.
Didn't you see?

Guys looked at me,
but not in that way.

It happens.

- Why are the police tailing you?
- The police?

What do you do
that interests the police?

- Nothing.
- That's not true!

- Why are you talking like that?
- I want to know.

You shouldn't have set up a meet.
They'd spot you.

They stayed behind your friend.

- Miguel?
- Yes. The one with you.

- At Edgar Quinet?
- There was something.

Tell me.

You split up at Place Maubert.
Your friend took the metro.

An inspector tailed him.
We got off at Raspail.

- He went into a building.
- And the cop?

Looked at the number and left.
Unless he hid somewhere.

They'll do a search.

You must help me. It's serious.

He works for Spain too, you know.

- I'll take dad's car.
- All right, miss.

- If you'd like to explain…
- No. Later.

Turn left and come back
beside the cemetery.

Nobody there.
Put your lights on.

Sorry.

You can go now.

- How long?
- I don't know. 5 minutes.

I'll pick you up in 10 minutes
by the cinema.

The papers are in the glove box.

- You've a licence?
- Several.

- A real one, I mean.
- Yes. Even a real one.

Go on!

Diego?

- What's that?
- A case.

Of course. It's a case.

- It looks heavy.
- Yes. Always papers.

- I'll be off.
- We're just finishing.

Who is that woman?

That's Lola.

Diego.

About last night,
I wanted to say…

If I can be of use one day…

Photographers travel, you know.

I'll be going. Agnès must be
consumed by curiosity.

Have you finished?

Bill took Agnès. He said
we'd worked hard enough today.

- What's going on?
- Nothing. Why?

Someone came for you.
That dark thin friend

who looks like he hates me.
- What are you on about?

It looks like it.
Or he's suspicious of me.

You're mad!

He's suspicious of my work,
the way I dress.

I'm not a proper wife
for a full-timer.

- What did he want?
- He seemed exasperated.

He came twice.

He made me repeat his message.
He must think I'm thick!

Everything's changed.
You're not staying.

You're going to Barcelona.

They expect you at 11 tomorrow,

same metro exit as this morning.

You have a meeting for questions.

You eat there
and leave directly.

Take your travel things.
He'll bring a passport.

Barcelona?

He didn't say why I'm going?

It's not a habit of his,

explaining.

I'm sick of it!

I'd lost all political perspective.

I had to stay here,
think about things and talk.

That implies self-criticism.

But now I'm good
for going to Barcelona.

They better find someone else.

We don't have to get up at dawn.

Shall we go out tonight?

I thought this was no life.

No. It isn't a life.

What do you want to do?

I don't know.

Cinema?

If you like.

What do you want to see?

Whatever you want. I don't mind.

Before that,
drive me to the Gare de Lyon.

I want to put this case
in the lockers.

- Why?
- Just because.

- But why?
- I'd rather not have it at home.

You've always kept your papers here.

But I'd rather.

- Diego.
- Yes?

- There's nothing else?
- What else?

Something you haven't told me.

Nothing, apart from minor details.

I love you, Diego.

I know that.

Is that for us?

Yes. It's for us.

Well?

Lights.

That's right. I forgot.

Papers.

Thank you.

- Is this your car, madam?
- Yes, officer.

- You're her husband?
- No, I'm not.

Your driving licence, please.

- You're not French?
- No.

What are you?

Spanish. A Spanish refugee.

Your papers.

You have them.

You know what you risk?

No. It's the first time ever.

Don't let distracted people
drive your car.

Off you go, this time.

- But be careful.
- Thank you, officer.

You don't want me to go?
Did you hear?

Don't let distracted people
carry your bags.

You know how left-luggage works?

"You're her husband?"
"No, I'm not."

The look on your face, Diego!

Do I look like a husband?

But I'm your wife.

Stop at the cafe.

I have to make a call.

- Before the cinema?
- I won't be a minute.

He said 11, Manolo?

What, the thin guy?
Yes. 11 o'clock sharp.

Be right back.

Sorry to bother you.
Could I speak to Nadine?

Thanks very much.

Nadine, it's me.

I need to see you,
you and your friends.

- In the afternoon OK?
- It'll be too late.

What?

Too late for everything.

At 9 o'clock, at the metro
where we last split up.

OK, downstairs, direction Etoile.

Be there, Nadine. Goodbye.

What's the matter?

I had to organise
picking up the case.

Couldn't it wait?

Manolo could have picked it up
from home.

I organise my work as I see fit.

Anyway, it's not just the case.

You want to know?

No, but you'll tell me anyway.

Last night, you wanted to go
to Barcelona to catch Juan.

You were already worried.

You made that speech
in front of Jeanine and Bill.

You who are so cautious…

You think that's how
Unesco interpreters speak?

Then at noon, you weren't going.

You said: "I'm staying with you."

But you were sad.

What happened this morning?

- This morning?
- At your meeting.

You seem to be groping your way.

Like you're in a fog
and don't know where you're going.

I know where I'm going.
Barcelona.

I have to go with Juan to Madrid.

Then I come back here.

I have to rest,
they have to talk with me.

In Spain,
I see things up close.

I'm blinded by reality.

I must have an overall view,
even if it's unreal.

I don't understand any more.

Oh, it's very simple.

The friends are sure
everything will blow up one day

and that day is soon.

Nobody comes to terms
with dying in exile.

But it's not true.
A very long walk awaits us.

No. It's not possible.
It does have to blow up.

Here.

"The diverse opposition forces
in the Basque country

"have jointly decided
to declare a general strike

"from April 30th at 8am.

"The students will also take part.

"The strike will last a week.

"Any repression,
and it will be continued."

That means nothing.

It's like wheeling out idols
to make it rain.

No. I hope this general strike
will really take off.

There'll be isolated minority
movements but nothing collective.

It's an unreal action.

I hope you're wrong.
This general strike will break out.

Isn't that what you wanted?

Isn't that what
your friends died for?

I hope you're wrong.
I hope you really are blind.

It has to change,

you have to go back to Spain,

I have to come with you,

and we have to live.

It's no use crying.
It won't change the reality.

- Shall we go home?
- Yes.

What are you doing?

Nothing. Looking at the night.

I want a child from you, Diego,

or I'll go mad.

If I went back to Spain,
started from scratch,

would you come with me?

To Spain?

You mean go back to Spain right now?

Normally?

With real papers?

That's it. With real papers.
Normally.

We should be in Spain.

That's where things will happen.

I didn't choose to be a full-timer
to spend my life in Aubervilliers.

I couldn't get used to that.

You think it's possible?

You think the police don't know
your real identity?

They must have heard of Carlos.

But to them,
Diego Mora is a stranger.

Then we'll go to Spain.

- Why did you open the case?
- I don't like being lied to.

I didn't lie.
I asked you to keep a case.

- It was explosives.
- You were scared?

Little dope.
I was carrying these cases at 17.

Me too.

What brought you to Spain?

- And you?
- It's my country, isn't it?

Don't we have the right
to look after your country?

Is it every man for himself?

Should we confine ourselves to Unef
and the Breton artichokes tragedy?

Aren't we internationalists?

Internationalism is about
revolution at home.

My father lends his passport,
I carry bags.

Exactly.
Let's talk about this case.

Here. Your father's passport.

- What floor is it?
- Aren't you coming?

You go in alone,
and I'll follow you.

You don't trust me?

I decide on my comings and goings.

You don't seem to like cemeteries.

But it clears the view.

It brings sun into your life.

- What do you represent?
- What?

You don't collect explosives
for pleasure.

Are you a group?
Do you have a program?

The Leninist group
for revolutionary action.

Everyone is Leninist.

Let's not get bogged down
in theoretical discussion.

Nadine entrusted our case to you.

What will you do with it?

I should have thrown it
in the Seine.

But I'm curious to know
what tactics you advocate.

I'm here purely
on a personal basis.

Come on, tell him.

Spain is in a latent
pre-revolutionary period.

Let's summarize.

Tourism is one of the regime's
chief sources of finance.

Millions of people

think Spain is a normal country.

They associate Spain
with holiday memories.

It's a dangerous factor
of political myth,

the demobilisation
of anti-fascist action.

We must create a climate
that makes tourism impossible!

And stop the sun?

That's how we'll awake
proletarian conscience!

Is it sleeping?

No. Sorry, I didn't mean that.

I'm saying that in Spain
there's a revolutionary situation

but no politics
or revolutionary front.

- Lenin said…
- He's not a prayer wheel.

Your pacifist way is revisionism.

Objectively, you tag along
behind the bourgeoisie.

- Objectively?
- That's right.

That's why we're being pursued,

imprisoned,
thrown out of windows and shot?

Why we get the heavy punishment?

Because we serve the bourgeoisie?

He said "tag along behind".

He used a political concept
that you changed to moral judgment.

You're right.

We're not questioning the heroism
of your militants,

just a political line.

For example?

Once again you've called everyone
to a general strike.

And once again, it'll fail.

You're very categorical.

It's based on experience.

Since 1959, strikes decided thus
have ended in failure.

Since 1959, what's that? 6 years.

The validity of a slogan

is not judged
over such a short period.

You're pretty impatient
for revolutionaries.

What about the case?

You almost threw me
into the hands of the police.

What if it was the opposite?

Who sent the police to Nadine's?

You.

The person who used
René Sallanches's passport.

The trail started at Nadine's
because of you,

that incident at the border.

The only probable theory.

We have to know how long
you've been followed.

The Spanish police flagged you.

Our cover hasn't been blown, though.

We've done nothing.

All the terrorist groups
were blown in record time.

What would I do
with your explosives?

It's in left-luggage.
Blow yourself up with it.

Domingo!

- You left just like that?
- I'll be late.

Will you call tonight?

An old person like me…
You could be more careful!

Call me tomorrow.

Going again?

Call me when you get back.

You are coming back?

You didn't know Ramón was dead.
They're about to announce it.

Late on Sunday night,
shortly after you'd seen him.

His heart packed in, as they say.

Ramón wanted to go to Barcelona
as a change from routine:

rigged cars,
false-bottom cases.

This obscure work over 15 years.

Now you'll take his place,
because the work goes on,

no death may interrupt it.

Ramón has never seen Spain,
the land of his parents.

You'll look at the vines
on the hills

with Ramón's eyes.

You'll feel his joy during the trip.

You didn't know Ramón was dead.
There was shadow, trees,

sun, and Ramón was dead.

Death brought in the sun,
we told you earlier.

You laughed,

but you should have told him
to be quiet,

because Ramón was dead,
and his shadow entered your life.

The shadow of death was on you

from the first day of your life.

You think there'll be
no strike in Madrid,

but you're hooked on the fraternity,

the obstinate elation of action.

You'll meet Juan,
take him to Madrid.

Once more you'll knock on doors.

Strangers will open
and you'll say

that the sun rises over Benidorm

or that the almond trees
are in blossom.

They'll let you in,
and you'll be together,

because those are passwords.

You'll see everything
with Ramón's eyes,

the sky, the vines,
the faces of strangers.

You'll feel Ramón's joys,
as if it were your first trip,

as if the struggle began today.

- Hi, Pierrot.
- Hi.

The friend's downstairs
waiting in the car.

- Oh, damn.
- What's wrong?

My name's Chauvin.

- I'm André Sarlat.
- I'm Chauvin. Gabriel.

Like chauvinist?
Funny bloody name.

We'll tell our life stories later.

Real or fake?

Fake for me.
The real is unimportant.

It seems we have to go for it.
So we will.

You'll have to explain.
It's my first time.

It's very simple, you'll see.
Shall we go?

- He came back on Sunday.
- The concierge said Monday.

She's old,
gets things wrong.

Indeed.

I just wanted to glance
at his passport.

I have it here.

Everything's in order.

I'm sorry I disturbed you.

Politics can be complicated.

There's more than contraband
at the border.

Sunday, we were tipped off
about a car

and the car's passenger,

a guy whose cover's blown in Madrid.

They let him through

because they knew they'd get him
on the way back.

Well, that's what they think.

Because if your father's passport
is here,

he can't go wandering around, can he?

More false information.

Anyway, politics
is always complicated.

There are underground guys like that

who become ministers
one fine day.

Papa? You must warn your friends.

Domingo's friends.

They came for the passport.

Right. I'll be right there.

You're lucky, ma'am.
A late cancellation.

- No luggage?
- No.

Immediate boarding, first floor.

- Bon voyage, ma'am.
- Thank you.

- Well?
- I got my ticket.

Everything's clear?
You remember?

I remember very well.

The address
and what you have to say?

45 rue Areba. Third floor, right.

I tell Teresa
the sun rises over Benidorm.

And they shouldn't go to Madrid
but both come back,

Juan and him, by different routes.

- That's it. Come back.
- Good.

I don't see why Carlos
didn't mention this incident

the other day, at the border.

Well, we'll see.

But it'll work.

You just have the time, now.

But it'll work.

Thank you.

THE END

Subtitles: Henry Moon

Subtitling: ECLAIR V&A

A 4K restoration
by Gaumont and Eclair Classics