Original subtitles

This house, is the one where I grew up.

It’s located in the Chevreuse Valley, in a hamlet called Montabé.

It belongs to the commune of Boullay-les-Troux,

I know, it always makes people smile,

located in Essonne, bordering Yvelines,

two departments that came from the break-up of Seine-et-Oise

in the early 1960s.

It looks like it did in my childhood,

even though most witnesses of that childhood have now disappeared.

The garden hasn’t changed much.

The roots of the fir tree hadn’t displaced the path

which now looks like a Japanese trail.

One must say the fir tree was much smaller back then.

It was the fir tree of my mother’s first Christmas in France

after fleeing the collapse of Hungary in 1947.

The neighbors sold their orchard which was subdivided into houses.

Besides, all of Montabé, which was countryside in my childhood,

has become a residential area.

In the past, I knew everyone here.

Today, practically no one.

This is my father’s office. It hasn’t changed.

The table is still as beautiful and the chair still as ugly.

He had a black German typewriter of the Erika brand.

I would sit on his lap, he’d show me a metal label

that I couldn’t read and he would tell me:

"You see, here it says: forbidden for children to touch."

That’s our neighbors’ property, the Régnauds’.

Miraculously, nothing has changed.

Except for the begonias

and the big lime tree that stood in front of the 1900s-style villa.

You have the right to like it or not. Otherwise, everything is there.

The cedar of Lebanon that I used to climb as high as I could

and on whose branches I still love to sit.

The small house that was inhabited by Hélène,

the maid whom the Régnauds brought on weekends

to take care of meals and maintain the house.

It was a traditional French family.

They had acquired the property before World War II

and spent the Occupation there.

Robert Régnaud, "Bob", was a solicitor.

With his wife, Geneviève, they raised five children.

Our friends, my brother Étienne and I,

were the children of their eldest son.

They were about our age.

Jean-Paul and his sister Joséphine, "Josi".

We spent our childhood together in this park that belonged to them

and yet I feel at home there, more than anywhere else.

I know all the paths, all the trees.

That, according to the contractions of our treasure hunts,

was the first fir grove.

That was the second fir grove.

That’s the pond.

There was a weeping willow, but it died last year.

There was a small 1900s metal bridge

that connected the artificial island to the shore.

It disappeared long ago.

I saw this tennis court being built.

It’s quick,

made of a then-new material, porosol.

I remember Bob and Geneviève Régnaud

inaugurating it ceremoniously.

Later, it was rather Jean-Paul, Josi, Étienne, and I

who spent our days there as soon as the good weather arrived.

We only had this playground.

There was the swing, a trapeze, rings,

a smooth rope, a knotted rope.

But nothing pleased us more than climbing the playground

and crossing it hanging upside down.

That’s the vegetable garden.

All around it, there are espalier pear trees

and in front of them, climbing apple trees.

The gardener tended to various fruits and vegetables,

including strawberries and currants.

There were so many apples in the fall

that they replaced the snowballs.

It was better to dodge them.

The uncles died prematurely.

The family scattered.

Jean-Paul remained one of the few relatives

to keep shares in the joint property,

and among them, the most active.

He makes use of every free moment

to mow, trim, prune, and drain the pond.

He’s made it his mission to preserve,

to keep alive the park of our childhood.

Here, time has stopped.

Birdsong

What’s that?

It’s my socks.

Did you order them on Amazon?

- Yes. - You know about the appalling

working conditions in Amazon warehouses.

I’m not telling you anything new.

Do you need socks?

- Exactly. - It’ll soon be May.

You’ve been in lockdown for two months.

Summer’s coming. And you need socks?

Exactly.

Okay, okay.

Can’t you buy them

in a store?

No, because the stores are closed.

Not when they reopen.

It’ll be too risky to go.

Besides, the socks I want aren’t in the stores.

Oh, they’re Falke!

You can find them everywhere.

- No, sorry, not this model. - We open a door.

- Excuse me, sorry, - I’m doing my dance class on Zoom.

I saw you picked up the package this morning.

Yes, exactly.

Aren’t they my gluten-free Cracottes?

Oh no, they’re my socks.

- I’ve been waiting a week for them.

I won’t bother you any longer. My class isn’t over yet.

Distant rhythmic music

- Yesterday, it was boxers. - She closes the door.

And before that, bathroom bins.

- Yes, and there was also a toilet brush.

- Oh really? - So what? We don’t have to

live our whole lives with the same old junk.

We’re in an old country house.

- It needs to be upgraded. - Are you sure

these aren’t impulsive purchases?

Impulsive purchases?

- It clears your mind. - Yes,

- it changes things up for me. - Or maybe,

according to marketing analysts, it’s “revenge buying.”

- “Revenge buying”? - Yes, you’re in lockdown,

they’re frustrating your desires.

Society has trained you to live like a spoiled child.

Now they’re holding you back.

- You’re getting revenge by buying yourself gifts. - I don’t know.

- Maybe. - Like when you bought

- the latest 13-inch iPad. - Oh no, that,

I bought that at the start of the lockdown.

- What difference does that make? - It’s useful.

We’re stuck in this old ruin reliving our childhood.

I think it’s good to stay informed about what’s going on.

And everyone can use it, right?

He coughs.

- You already had an iPad. - Too old.

- Too slow. - I understand.

- You need it to read the news. - Yes.

The phone is too small.

- Too slow, you throw it out. - You could sum it up

- like that. - You don’t see it

- as an impulsive purchase? - No.

- Not at all. - You preach

about health protocols. I see a delivery person every day.

- And most of the time without a mask. - I respect

- social distancing rules. - And the packages?

The packages, I put them

- next to the trash bin. - If we follow your logic,

when we go to the trash bin, we could get contaminated.

Not at all,

because the virus doesn’t survive more than four hours on cardboard.

- And where did you get that from? - Oh, the RTBF website.

- What’s RTBF?

- French-speaking Belgian Radio and Television.

- Why? - It’s the first thing

that comes up when you search on Google

“cardboard coronavirus survival.” Alarm

Mmh!

- Excuse me, Étienne, I have to go.

I have an appointment with my therapist.

- See you. - See you.

Dial tone

Hello.

-Hello.

It’s quite a strange situation to be confined where you grew up.

In the morning, when I write,

I write in the room where I used to write when I was a student, even in high school.

-Do you return often?

- Yes, sometimes on weekends.

I used to go more often when my mother was alive.

She passed away in 2006.

Anyway, I never stayed long.

Always happy to leave.

Too many memories.

Too much past.

-But today, you don’t feel bad there?

No.

No, but I realized something.

- Something you hadn’t realized before? - No.

I realized I spent my time running away from this house.

Which, deep down, you loved very much. - Yes.

That’s true.

It’s too heavy, too full, too dense.

The art book collection,

the masterpieces

of art history,

the dark rooms,

the grimacing Asian deities...

As a child,

I was happy outside,

in nature.

My wonder, when the bells arrived

in the undergrowth we passed through to return from the village school.

and from which we made enormous bouquets.

The blackberry season, then the chestnut season.

And then this park.

- This park?

Yes, yes, this park.

In the late afternoon, I go there for jogging or tennis.

Well, Jean-Paul's family is confined somewhere else.

So, I’m not disturbing anyone. - So, we can say

that you're reconnecting with your roots, literally and figuratively.

- Yes, adopted roots, if you like.

- That you share with your brother. - Yes.

Anyway, my brother chose to live

in the imaginary world

where we took refuge as teenagers:

rock music.

And he spent his life observing it.

And now, we're confined together.

He has two adult children.

He just separated from his wife, so...

he's a bit lost.

- I thought he had a new girlfriend?

- Yes, I didn't know her. Her name is Carole.

She's confined with us.

- She's a blank slate.

This should help you clear things up.

Well, it’s been so long

since we've seen each other for more than a few days.

It's a strange feeling, rediscovering each other.

It's like, at the same time,

we know each other too well

and we don't know each other anymore. - Have you lived

together as adults?

- Yes, in the 90s, in the same apartment,

on rue Notre-Dame de Nazareth.

We were both into journalism.

So for my brother, it was musical and for me, it was cinematographic.

And then there was our friend,

the filmmaker Laurent Perrin,

who lived on rue au Maire. It's close by.

It was around that time

that our father died.

- Mmh.

And since then?

Since then, it's hard to say.

Well...

The family

became my brother's main concern.

And I made other choices.

Well,

- see you next week. - Oui.

Same tree, same time.

Beep

- Do you remember when we almost set the building on fire?

- Oh well, bravo! - Yes!

- Am I supposed to be impressed?

- It was a long time ago. I remember.

There was a sort of trendy guy

with a royalist badge. It had the fleur-de-lis.

- Nowadays, we say "modern young people." - Neither.

Wait.

He threw his lit cigarette out the kitchen window.

- Into a ventilation shaft. - Exactly.

- It started burning, there was smoke. Thankfully...

- we noticed. - And it was at that party

- where I met Alain Pacadis again... - Yes, at dawn,

eating a can of cold ravioli taken from the cupboard.

Disgusting.

- Who is that? Am I supposed to know? - No, no.

No, but he was a friend. He wrote for Libération.

- Well, he’s dead now. - Doesn't ring a bell.

- Out of wine. - I'll go get some.

No, stay. I'll go.

- Plus, I'm not interested. - I am.

- It's an era I didn’t experience. - And Jean-Luc Besson?

He had taken, you know, an apartment with Dani, on rue Rambuteau.

Dani, the singer?

- Yes, yes, yes. Well, she's an actress too, you know.

In L'Amour en fuite by Truffaut.

- She died last year. - Yes, but sorry,

Besson, is he related to the filmmaker?

- Oh no, not at all. - No, no.

Oh, I know nothing! I'm hopeless.

He had started a label, Dorian.

- He published all the French new wave. - Artefact,

Modern Guy,

Suicide Romeo, Mathématiques Modernes...

- Edwige and Claude Artaud. - Even the Rita Mitsouko.

- Before they became famous. - Marcia Baïla.

- Alas, it was no longer him. - Sorry, the rest,

I don’t know. Yet, I like music.

His big thing was publishing

the music for your first short film.

- Jacno did the music, Rectangle.

- That, I know. - Yes, it’s a huge hit.

- Anyway, Jean-Luc Besson

moves in with Dani.

And we gave them an oven... He laughs.

Which we no longer needed.

But I had forgotten a jacket inside.

- Wait, what? - And it caught fire.

- It's true. - It caught fire

- when they plugged it in. - No, no, stop!

How do you forget a jacket in an oven?

- To give it to them, I don’t remember. - I admit

- it’s not very smart. - What was Jacno doing in this?

No, but he was Elli's friend.

To clarify: Elli Medeiros.

I know who she is.

I'm drunk, but not completely ignorant.

- Toi, toi, mon toit. - Back then, everything revolved

around Elli, you know.

The Stinky Toys, first.

- Their band, with Jacno. Two albums.

Yes, then she played

the lead role in my short film.

When she arrived at parties, it was crazy.

She would come with her crew. Musicians, journalists...

There was Pacadis,

Yves Adrien,

and then Olivia Clavel from Bazooka.

And you, were you in love with Elli?

- Um... He laughs.

At that time, it was impossible not to be in love with Elli.

Étienne laughs.

The spring of confinement was one of the most beautiful.

We left Paris before the schools closed

to find a countryside already in bloom.

The vegetation was ahead and we could have lunch in the sun.

Several weeks of good weather followed,

and we saw the lilacs bloom.

The neighbor's wisteria

was a stunning sight for the few authorized walkers.

Only the Régnaud family's magnolia, which had flamed up like a torch,

had its plans thwarted.

Just one frosty night

was enough to end its extravagant bloom.

The modest wildflowers,

the buttercups, cornflowers, and little bells remained intact,

dotting the fresh meadow with colorful spots.

I marveled at them while jogging,

discovering the apple trees blooming, then the cherry trees,

and thanking heaven for the chance

to witness this exceptional season.

At the end of the confinement, I discovered that David Hockney,

probably the living artist I admire most,

had spent that spring not far from here, in Normandy,

and had painted it.

He shared on YouTube some iPad-made images

along with a text where he expressed the joy

he found in capturing spring’s arrival,

noting that we had lost our connection to nature.

This question had occupied my mind for weeks.

I wondered why my art, cinema,

was also losing its connection to nature.

Not all cinema, of course,

but wasn't there a path in Hockney’s insight?

The way cinema captures fleeting emotions

on faces,

which lies at its very essence,

could it not also apply to nature’s beauty?

Could a filmmaker not do as Monet did on the banks of the Seine,

in the winter of 1879-80,

painting the river as it carried blocks of ice?

Wouldn't that belong in a film?

Can I talk to you?

Of course.

- When you do the shopping... - I do the shopping

- for everyone. - Well, I noticed

that when you do the shopping for everyone,

you put the groceries directly in the kitchen cupboards.

- Where am I supposed to put them? - Well, if you read the press...

- What press? - If you follow the recommendations,

you should leave the groceries outside for a while,

at least four hours,

to eliminate any contamination on the surfaces.

- What surfaces? - Everything.

Plastic packaging, boxes...

- And dairy products? - Oh yes,

- dairy products, of course. - I'm sorry,

I’m not leaving them outside.

Why?

I’m respecting the cold chain.

- What do you mean? - I avoid encouraging

bacterial growth.

Staphylococcus, listeria, salmonella...

Because if you want to avoid

- breaking the cold chain... - Yes.

- ... it's especially important for frozen foods, you know.

- I don’t know. - I do.

I’d rather not take any chances.

We're talking about Covid

- and you're talking about the cold chain? - If we're being cautious,

we should be cautious about everything.

You wiped all the handles with bleach.

- Diluted. - It's extremely harmful.

- Well, I’m okay with using white vinegar.

We ordered six bottles of it. But it doesn’t do anything.

You can check.

- Aren't you having lunch with Carole? - No.

Today, she is fasting.

That’s what her nutritionist recommended.

Well...

I'm not asking you to put the bags in the full sun.

You can put them in the shade.

- It's not that hot. - No.

I think it’s too risky.

Well, Covid is a risk too.

- Everyone has their priorities. - Will you be uncompromising

about the cold chain?

Here we go.

- Do you know our department is in a red zone?

- Not this part of Essonne. - Oh, okay.

I didn’t know Essonne was divided into zones.

That's a scoop, huh.

I don't know how long you’ve had that info. Happy to share.

- No, I didn’t say that. I’m using my common sense.

Not my neuroses.

I'm concerned about health regulations

during the worst epidemic we’ve ever experienced.

At a time when the global population is locked down for the first time.

So is that a neurosis?

Huh? Am I the one rambling?

- I remind you that the Hong Kong flu in 1968

killed a million people.

We didn't freak out like this.

So according to you,

is it a good thing or a bad thing?

It's true, a million dead, why worry about it?

Let’s take the Hong Kong flu as an example, as a model

and do the same.

- That's not what I'm saying. - But what are you saying, then?

He sighs.

- This hysteria seems excessive to me, even caricatured.

- I can say that in terms of cinema,

we completely underestimate the problem.

- Yet, there are

meetings to define new protocols for filming.

Bullshit, that’s it.

- - Why do you say that? - I think

we can’t make films with social distancing rules.

It's impractical. -That's an extreme

and unrealistic position, but what do you recommend?

Me, nothing at all.

I have no intention of risking my health on a film set.

I can say that I’ve never felt less like a filmmaker in my life.

So let’s say we make films.

I don’t know when.

People would still have to take the risk to go see them.

- -Not you? - Especially not me.

- Sorry, I’ll just interrupt you for a second.

- Yes? - I'm placing the order

for the organic grocery. They deliver in the late afternoon.

- Great. - But I need to know

if you want any kohlrabi.

No, that's fine.

You made a puree with it.

I assure you, it's fine.

Alright.

I won't bother you anymore.

- Excuse me, I...

Awkward little laughs -Please, go ahead.

Did you sign the petition for the freelancers?

It's the least we can do.

And it came from my friend Jeanne Balibar.

But well, deep down... -Yes?

Do you think otherwise?

- No. I think the situation

for freelancers is and will remain,

for some time, desperate,

and that we absolutely must help them, right?

But well...

in relation to the social devastation

and the abyss of misery and despair

that will hit society as a whole and worldwide,

it’s a drop in the ocean.

- -How do you see the future? - I see nothing.

I'm not a fortune teller. He laughs.

No, I just know that...

Mmh...

Cinemas and film sets

are potential hotspots for the pandemic.

And as long as it's not controlled by a reliable vaccine,

it won't be good for us.

- -But until then? - Until then?

For me,

nothing.

Except

the injunction

to imagine new ways to make films,

compatible

with the new data of the real world.

-In fact,

- each for their own. - Yes.

- -And let the industry go to ruin. - No!

But the industry won't go to ruin, don’t worry.

It will reorganize in the near or distant future

and according to values and regulations

that will make it all the more rigid.

and alas,

even less free.

Classical music

That's my father's library.

There too, time has stopped.

He had his books bound in Italy, according to a code by genre and country.

Brown with lilies for classical French literature.

Beige with little stars

for contemporary French literature.

Yellow, that's for theater.

Peach skin, history.

And black, that's my favorite: crime stories throughout the ages.

Since my adolescence, I’ve read them compulsively.

And then he stopped having them bound and categorized.

And they piled up beyond the available shelf space.

The collection "The Universe of Forms" was overwhelming.

André Malraux created it at Gallimard.

The Pléiade, but for the history of art.

The first volume was dedicated to Sumer,

then the Hittites, Assyria,

fascinating civilizations

leading to the most boring rooms in major museums.

My father collected in a box the loose coins he found.

And when the amount was sufficient,

he took me to buy art books at 5 rue du Pont de Lodi

at the Hachette stock that then distributed Gallimard.

My father, published by Robert Laffont,

received a 30% brotherly discount there.

The last time I accompanied him, at 13,

we bought two monographs on Bonnard and Vuillard

which I still remember.

In fact, they're here and I occasionally leaf through them.

I was far from imagining how much their work,

and Bonnard’s in particular,

would influence my future inspiration.

- Until his last day,

my father insisted on being in a state of cleanliness

very meticulous.

In the last two or three days, he was able to have

his usual cup of coffee.

He loved

to have black coffee in the morning, with bread and butter.

Then we would seat him like every day in that chair,

that armchair I told you about.

And two days before his passing,

he insisted on going into the garden and starting a landscape.

So we carried him into the garden.

We tried

not to shake too much that armchair.

And our slowness irritated him a bit.

He said: "But let’s go faster!"

We went faster,

then we set him down where he told us to stop.

And then he changed his mind.

We went a little further.

And then he looked at the olive trees.

I dare say he got lost in the olive trees.

But he was suffering. He was suffering terribly.

And from time to time, he who never complained

even let out a tiny groan.

Then we placed the canvas on his easel, in front of him.

And we opened the box of colors.

The palette was all ready. I had prepared it myself.

It was precisely the time of the great economy of colors.

Very few colors, the palette kept neat,

the brush placed in his hand.

And he began to take color

and put it on the canvas.

And he stopped groaning.

His eye lit up.

We felt that joy, the joy of painting,

was beginning to possess him.

And after a few minutes, he started to hum.

That's how I can tell you about my father's end.

The rest, well...

Prat, the surgeon, our friend, came, took care of...

tried to make his last moments as painless as possible,

and then that was it.

-And there you have it, thus ends our series of interviews.

- We open the door. - What was it?

I was next door. I heard bits and pieces.

- A podcast recommended by Paul. Jean Renoir.

- The filmmaker? - Yes. Pierre-Auguste Renoir was

his father. He wrote a book about him.

According to Paul, it's a wonder.

It sounded like it talked about death.

He talks about it simply.

As one should talk about it.

I wanted to thank you.

- For what? - Well, I don’t know, for welcoming me

here so generously.

It wasn't easy. It wasn't planned.

- It seemed natural. - Not really.

You know, with Étienne, it's the first time we...

- that we’re living together. - I thought you were

- together for a long time. - Yeah, for a while,

but secretly.

There was his wife, his family. He left her, everything is changing.

We have to find our bearings.

He was hiding you?

In a way, yes.

Did it hurt you?

No. It shouldn't have lasted

any longer.

- Would you have left him? - Oh yeah.

But...

you know,

I haven’t been living with Paul for that long.

Between one and two years, no more.

- Really? - Mmh.

- I thought it had been a long time. - No, before,

he lived alone with his daughter, in shared custody.

Is she with her mother?

- Now, yes. She was here

before you arrived. She'll be back soon; we don’t know when.

Paul misses her a lot.

He used to help her with her homework.

It's funny,

you seem to have been together forever.

I feel that way too.

But that’s not the case. She laughs.

- I can’t seem to feel at home.

I’m coming out of a failed marriage, a painful divorce.

Our daughter is in shared custody. It creates conflicts.

And the lockdown doesn’t help.

I miss her terribly.

- Did you separate because of Étienne?

No, that was before.

The thing with Étienne pulled me out of the hole.

- Yes, but maybe,

the fact of being hidden...

Yes.

I imagine that it gives a complex,

a feeling of insecurity.

Persistent.

- Is it that obvious? - No!

- She laughs. - With Étienne,

we were happy.

We traveled.

But it's the first time we're not lying,

that we can be seen as a real couple.

I understand.

- I felt that in your eyes. I'm grateful to you.

Rock music

Wait, wait, don’t tell me!

He hums.

So?

Wait, wait.

- Go ahead!

Yes, wait, wait.

Oh yes, of course! Snoopy Vs. The Red Baron.

By the Royal Guardsmen.

A little laugh.

Where did you find that?

- I stumbled upon it on a compilation on iTunes.

But it’s been

decades since I heard that.

- Oh? No. You heard it more recently.

- Are you sure? - Yes, yes.

Tarantino used it in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.

- Yes, it's the scene where Leonardo DiCaprio is in the pool

on his float, listening to it on headphones.

- So cool. - I remember that well.

I found it incongruous.

- That's what's great, it's that it's incongruous.

Hold on, I’ve got... He laughs.

I've got a collector's item.

- A collector's item, watch out. - Yes?

Uh...

Here it goes.

Someone breathes.

Psychedelic music

Oh, well no. That’s too easy.

With the sound of the chillum, yes.

Uh, it’s Quintessence. Laughter.

Notting Hill Gate.

They hum.

Thank you.

Thank you.

He laughs.

Laughter.

He sings.

But they are really bad.

- Oh, the singer was formidable. Raja Ram.

- When is that from? I like it. - Han! You like it?

- The late 60s, something like that.

So here’s one, watch out.

- Watch out, concentrate. - Yes, yes.

Concentration.

Pop music

- Oh yes. Well, that's Eloise by Barry Ryan.

- Are you so sure? - I know.

Oh no. Who is it?

- A theme from a super famous series. - No, no.

Every night...

- Han! - Oh!

The version by Claude François.

- Oh no, don’t do that to me! No, no, no, no!

- Why? - It’s horrible.

Well, it’s fine! I love it.

- You love that? - Yes.

No, no, no, please.

- Please, no, no, no! - Oh yes

Eloise No, no, no.

Laughter.

- Alright, that’s enough. That’s enough, I’ll stop. - Wait.

How about putting on the John Prine album that I like?

The John Prine album with the duets.

I love Falling in Love Again.

- Aren't you hungry anymore? - I'm fine.

- Salad, ham, cheese, it's good. - I'm going to make

a crepe.

There's still some crepe batter left. I'll heat the pan.

- We thought it was... - It was perfect.

I still have a little bit of a craving. A crepe, Carole?

- Mmh. He laughs.

- Do you think he's upset? - No. It’s still not easy

to adjust to everyone's eating habits.

- Yes. - We’re struggling.

Especially since he loves his crepes.

How long has it been?

- Well, it's been a while, yes. He got used to it.

- I understand. It's like therapy.

"Falling in Love Again" John Prine

- I think I made it pretty well. Ham and cheese.

Don’t you want any?

- No, I don't eat gluten. - Oh, sorry.

Yes, of course, you told me.

- Do you want some? - No, thanks.

- A little bit? - No.

- Oh, don’t be... - Well...

- We're going to watch a movie. Are you waiting for us?

- What are you watching? - I don’t know.

Maybe a Guitry.

- Haven't you watched several? - Yeah.

It’s a hard drug.

- Or a Renoir. We wanted to rewatch Elena and the Men.

- No, thanks. I'd rather read before bed.

Speaking of which...

- Yes? - Would you mind

not turning the sound up too loud?

- We don't play it very loud. - We don’t play it loud.

- It's just below our bedroom.

- It's been like that since we were kids.

Sorry.

I've kind of gotten into old habits.

- No problem. - I apologize.

We'll be careful.

Yesterday, we had to use earplugs.

- I never wear them because they make me anxious.

He laughs.

- No, but really, Étienne, last night, we watched a silent film.

- It's because the music was too loud.

But since you mentioned

it yesterday,

we made sure to keep it at a minimum.

Yeah, it was pretty low.

- We'll turn it down even more, given where we are.

- We'll do that. - Thank you for doing it tonight.

- Just to know, from now on here,

will we only watch silent films?

They laugh.

- You told me that's what you prefer.

Yes, but not exclusively.

Right now, I'm having insomnia.

There, I'm going through a tough time.

I wake up at dawn. Not fun.

- Well, listen, I'll adjust as we go.

And when it’s too loud, you know what?

- I’ll turn it down. - Exactly, that's how we’ll do it.

- That's very generous of you. - Enjoy your movie, then.

- Don't hesitate to sweep the floor.

- We won’t hesitate. Little laugh.

Good night.

- Good night. - Good night.

- Why did you want to read The Letters of Heloise and Abelard?

- Arte asked me to make a doc around Madame Bovary.

It mentions the love of Heloise and Abelard.

Ah, and you hadn’t read it.

I was aware of it, but very vaguely.

Yes, yes, me too.

Well, apart from what Villon says about it.

Villon?

- Well, yes, in "The Ballad of Ladies of Times Past."

"Where is the very wise Heloise

"For whom was castrated, then a monk

"Pierre Abélard"

- "In Saint-Denis?" - Oh really?

What a memory.

I have no merit.

It was set to music by Brassens,

in a very beautiful version.

I listened to it a lot.

- I can tell you that Heloise was anything but very wise.

She was passionately in love with Abelard.

And he, even after being the victim

of the vengeance of Canon Fulbert...

"Castrated, then a monk..."

... castrated and then a monk,

he continues to explain to her the primacy of love in Jesus Christ.

Heloise's letters are sublime.

Unfortunately, she only wrote two.

- That's not many. - It's not many,

but they are a marvel of the French language.

She speaks of physical desire in free and raw terms.

She is guided by her passion. Abelard's letters pale

in comparison to hers.

- You know, I find Heloise generous and patient

for having accepted

the lessons that are singularly disembodied...

He laughs. from Abelard.

What he writes is beautiful, though.

Yes, but it has nothing to do

with the dazzling modernity of Heloise's letters.

- The book was lying around in the office. Did you take it out?

Yes.

I wanted to reread

The Letters of the Portuguese Nun.

It was in the same volume.

It's two monologues from two loving women,

addressed

to men overwhelmed by their desire

and its abysses.

- Were you reading it for a reason? - Yes.

I wanted to make a period film

with Kristen Stewart.

So, I'm looking for ideas.

- In the Portuguese nun? - Yes, I know. It doesn't work at all.

Mmh.

- It’s still more complicated than that.

If you want, what interests me,

is the connection between life and filming.

Both the character she plays

and how that resonates with her fate.

Well, what's the problem?

- It's the fiancé of the Portuguese nun.

He's French. He's really too dull.

They laugh.

You know, a bit

like the English hussar in The Story of Adèle H.

He's too indifferent to her. So, we don't really care.

- About her? - No, about him. If you want,

there's just one monologue left.

Anyway, it’s not enough to make a film.

- A victim monologue. - No, it's sublime.

It's a bit like Racine.

But well,

without any interlocutor.

I regret it.

I liked Kristen Stewart as a Portuguese nun.

- Ah, me too. Small laugh

Shall we have a race?

Dynamic music

Small screams

Hello. I'm Mr. Berger. I'm here for the order.

- Hello. It's the 4th cart. - Yes, yes.

Three, four... Thank you. Have a good day.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

-How to wash your hands properly?

Wet your hands.

Take a sufficient amount of soap.

Rub palms against palms.

Make a forward and backward movement

of one palm against the back of the other.

Then switch.

Turn the fingertips of one hand against the palm of the other,

then switch.

Dry your hands thoroughly by patting with a paper towel.

- How are you? - Very well.

- Were you worried about picking up the order?

Actually, it's impeccably organized.

They wear masks. The pickup is in the parking lot.

And they bring you boxes.

- Phew. - And above all, they respect

social distancing. No contact.

And for payment?

- It's very simple, by bank transfer.

Okay.

And afterward, you do laundry with your clothes.

- It's definitely much safer, yes.

- Tell me,

Etienne was wondering if you had time to stop by the bakery?

- He clears his throat. - I...

I'm not ready for the bakery.

And besides, I can do without it.

- I thought it was a bit tough, after all, the bakery.

- He'll go, then. - Yes, you can tell him

- to wear his mask? - He'll put it on.

- And use gel on his hands. - He'll do that.

- Around the wrists and - Between the fingers.

Thank you.

- Already, I can download the app.

- You’ll call me in front of your computer. I’ll guide you.

- You’ll need a mic. - But I don’t have one.

- - We’ll get you one. - Okay.

But then take all possible precautions.

It's for my brother who is extremely picky.

- Yes, we know. We've seen worse.

A very famous host whose name I won't mention

asked that the delivery person wear gloves,

that the microphone packaging be disinfected

and that the package be left on his doorstep.

And he waited an entire day before picking it up.

- That's exactly my brother's profile.

-You give us the address,

we'll drop it off outside, you'll pick it up.

That will reassure your brother.

Alright, I’ll pass you back to Maxime.

-Yes, is that clear?

- I'm clumsy with technology, but I should manage.

-It's important to do a live at noon.

I was thinking of a format like "Song of the Day".

It gives the feeling that life goes on.

- For the evening, are we doing reruns?

-Yes, your series on Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys.

It's cheerful. That's what the listeners want.

The idea would be that at the start,

you have an exchange with Laure Adler who comes before you.

Is she live?

-No, the same, reruns. She's at home.

She does the intro and outro, we connect you and launch you.

But when do you want to do that?

-Not right away. Starting next week.

Otherwise, do you have any ideas? It's good to be current.

- Of course, we could pay tribute to the victims of Covid.

David Greenfield, the keyboardist of the Stranglers.

Paul Oakenfold who produced Primal Scream...

- -Yes, yes... - Manu Dibango, John Prine

-Sure, yes, well, that's not what I had in mind.

I was imagining something that changes

the ideas.

But it's your show, your choices.

Yes, we don't want it to feel too morbid.

-Exactly, that's it. Exactly, not too morbid.

- I’ll do my best. -What’s great about you,

is that you introduce us to artists

and then you make it all come alive.

- What are we doing with the strawberries? - I had forgotten them.

Yes.

I think they’re a bit mushy.

I’ll make a compote.

- In which pot? We burned the small one.

Yes, I know, I threw it away.

I ordered some. They arrived this morning.

Still Amazon? It's crazy!

- Actually, I ordered directly from the Swedish site.

And I got a casserole, you see.

And a small pot, look.

- What are you going to cook in a mini-casserole?

- It’s cast iron with a wooden handle.

I thought it was pretty.

How much did it cost?

90 euros, plus shipping costs.

- 90 euros for a mini-casserole that you don't even know if you'll use?

- Well, am I using the small pot to make the strawberries?

Please, be my guest.

Well...

No, because you were talking about Amazon again.

Do you have a problem with Amazon?

Oh yes, I have a problem with Amazon.

No, because the stores are closed.

What can I do about it?

- Avoid enriching war profiteers.

- It's not my fault if we’re in a lockdown.

And it's much more convenient, I think, to do shopping online.

And we’re killing small businesses.

- They’ve been killed a long time ago by the big chains.

Those that remain.

And on the contrary,

it's the big chains that are afraid of Amazon.

- And why? - Oh, because they fear

that people will get used to buying online what they need.

- Don’t stir it. They release water, it prevents burning.

Oh.

Sorry.

- For books, you have plenty of alternative French sites.

- I found a portal all in inclusive writing.

To be honest, it totally discouraged me.

You have a bad attitude.

- Anyway, most of those sites

redirect you to closed local bookstores.

- We're in a house full of books.

There's no rush to order books from Amazon.

You’re right to point out this problem.

This library stresses me out.

Yet, I saw you digging through it.

There was Boileau.

- And why Boileau? - Well, actually,

I couldn't remember if I had read L'Art poétique or not.

- And? - Believe it or not, I still don’t know.

The verses look so much

like proverbs that, well... He laughs.

- What we conceive well is expressed clearly.

- What smells burnt?

Oh, it’s the strawberries!

You told me not to touch them.

- I never said that. - Yes,

that’s what you said.

But they’re completely charred.

- No, but the pot is ruined. - No way!

- Soak it overnight, it’ll be fine. - Not at all.

No, but the bottom is completely charred!

No, but... what...

Groans

No, it’s good for the trash.

I didn't say not to watch it.

No, you said not to stir it.

Is it my fault?

- I never said that. - Yes, you did!

Well, here, take this.

- For your crepes. - Thanks.

You're welcome.

Mmh... Oh no!

Laughs

It tastes burnt. Can I throw it away?

- Yes, don’t worry. The trash is right there.

Wait.

They say you can boil the pot

with dish soap and baking soda.

- It works really well. - We have baking soda.

I bought some to make gluten-free bread.

- It’s completely burnt. - Soak it

in white vinegar. It will work.

Ah!

Otherwise, there's another site that suggests you throw it away.

I don’t find that funny.

They laugh.

Beep

Ah!

How are you?

- As well as can be in this context.

My film is on hold.

And I’ll be able to resume it next summer, if at all.

Otherwise, I'm fine. We're in the countryside.

The weather is nice.

- So tell me, is it nice, Louis's parents' house?

- Very nice.

They set up a trampoline. Britt spends her days on it.

They have jump contests.

When she loses, she's grumpy all day.

Yes, well, nothing new.

And how are the homework?

- Better than with you. - How so?

- Are you making her study

- German? - I don’t speak German.

-It's declensions

- to be repeated. - Well, I do what I can, you know.

-She has a hard time concentrating.

You don't let her roam around on the internet, right?

Uh...

School is closed, she's confined. Not fun for the kids.

I'm a bit more lenient than usual.

-That's not how she presents it.

- How does she present it? -She’s happy,

but when it comes to the internet, it’s like a gulag for her.

I imagine at your place, it's a more relaxed regime.

Well, you know,

I let her chat at the end of the day with her friends.

There you go, in the spirit of not completely isolating her.

Which seems desirable to me.

And if she does her homework well,

she can play games on my tablet.

- -What games? - I don’t know.

I haven't analyzed which ones. -You give her your tablet

and let her play any game,

including some that could be harmful?

- I don't think those games are harmful,

but I'll check.

-Thank you for agreeing to do that, yes.

Is she there?

-I'll pass her to you. Britt!

Ah! Oh!

Hello, my love. Hello!

He blows kisses to her.

Oh... Small laugh

- -Hi, Dad. - Hi.

How are you? -Where's my bike?

It's...

It's put away.

It's in the back room. -Dad,

can you order me volume 22 of Warriors?

Actually, the best would be 22, 23, and 24.

And why three volumes?

- -It's the end of the 5th cycle. - But still,

I ordered you three volumes

before you went to your mom's. -I know.

19, 20, and 21.

I'm almost halfway through 21.

- I don't understand anything. How many volumes per cycle?

-Well, six! That's why.

You can't leave me halfway. It's too cruel.

Well, listen,

there's an excellent library at Louis's parents' house.

- -They're old books. - All the better.

What's the problem? -But Dad,

you don't understand! I have to finish the 5th cycle.

- Don't you want to discover something else?

Like The Fire Within, for example.

- -No, I don't like that. - But why not?

-Pff, I don't like dragons. It doesn't interest me.

- No, but I assure you! -Dad!

I'm not insisting, but come on...

-Say, Dad, when I get back,

can I watch movies on your tablet?

Are you allowed at Mom's?

-She never wants to lend me her tablet.

- I believe she lends it to you from time to time.

-She doesn't want me to watch Netflix.

- No, because I think you watch it anyway.

-How?

- By using my codes, for example.

Britt, I saw that you logged in.

-How do you know?

- Well, listen, they send me notifications.

- -I only used it once or twice. - Come here.

We’ll do it like before, okay?

If you keep up with your classes, and do your homework well,

you’ll be allowed to watch movies.

- -Netflix? - Don’t you want to see something else?

There are things elsewhere that might interest you.

-Netflix?

He sighs.

Alright, one episode.

- - Three. - No, one, just one.

- - Three! - No, listen, two. Okay?

- Two, fine.

- Well, you’re tough to negotiate with. - I know.

I'll leave you. They've started trampoline.

Yes, wait, Britt!

You’ll return the tablet to your mom, right?

- I promise.

Yes?

Britt! Yes, well...

I'm jogging in the Régnaud park.

Anyway, it's prohibited on local paths.

Here, I don't run into anyone.

Running is relatively recent in my life.

About ten years. And only in the summer.

The rest of the year, I don't do any sports.

When I was younger, I didn't know how to run. I couldn't find my breath.

And I would tire out immediately.

Over time, I grew to enjoy it. I found my bearings.

I enjoy the effort of running

and I do it better than when I was 20.

Here, in Montabé, I’ve rediscovered distant reflexes,

for example, the path around the park.

I go down the steps of the vegetable garden, follow the pear trees,

turn right towards the swing, pass behind the tennis courts...

I go down to the pond,

then I climb back up along the fence, which is quite steep.

And I join the undergrowth that brings me back to the villa.

I do six laps.

Heavy breathing

Barking in the distance

That was the path I followed when I was a student at Censier.

Light chatter

I worked in the reading room of the old National Library,

on my master's thesis.

It was dedicated to the serial writer Gustave Le Rouge.

Blaise Cendrars dedicated a chapter to him in L'Homme foudroyé.

It was mainly about the intimate links

between symbolist poetry and the revival of occultism

in France at the end of the 19th century.

It was a source of inspiration when I made my film Irma Vep

or when I wrote an essay on the work of the mage-filmmaker Kenneth Anger.

In the morning, during that only period of my youth,

I would go running before driving to Paris.

It must have been winter.

I remember the frost, the steam from the air I exhaled.

I remember the effort to climb back up from the pond.

At best, I would do two laps.

I enjoyed it.

In the morning, at dawn, it was quite wonderful.

But I don't have good memories from that period of my life.

Claire, whom I still loved, had left me,

and I couldn't imagine replacing her.

She was irreplaceable.

She was the first, and the inspiration

for my first graphic attempts.

Rustling of a leaf

Pencil strokes

Why was I doing a master's thesis, if not to be rid of it?

I didn't want to become a teacher.

Painting was too solitary and cinema was still far away.

Is anyone there?

Barking

- I understand because next year,

it will be the second centenary of Flaubert's birth.

So there’s a current relevance. Well, in a way.

Uh... sorry.

But that's not a reason to talk

about Madame Bovary in a conventional way.

You see, for me, if I make the documentary,

I need to find an angle.

If there’s no angle, I’m not interested.

I don’t want to just list dates.

Such-and-such year he does this, such-and-such year is the trial,

journalists say this or that...

That’s a bit boring, isn’t it?

But...

Yes, well then...

Sartre precisely asks the question in L'Idiot de la famille:

what does Flaubert have to tell us today?

And well, that interests me.

There’s a case for you in front of the gate.

I know.

It’s been sitting there for two days.

- I retrieved it. It was a mic for live intervention.

- Great. - Oh, by the way,

can you help me set it up?

- Carole is doing her yoga. - Sure.

Well, I’ll drink my coffee and be right there.

- Thanks. - You're welcome.

Wait, damn...

What can I do?

- Sit at the desk so I can adjust the height of the mic.

Sighed

Down.

More, more.

More... Stop!

That’s good for the height.

But how do we stabilize it?

- Alright, enough.

I’ll call the technician.

Dial tone

-So?

- I did it, but the mic isn’t stable.

-Let’s see if it works like this.

I’ll hold it for you.

Who remembers the Stranglers,

a first-wave punk band defined by its sometimes raunchy machismo?

What distinguishes their sound is the use of keyboards,

anathema to their contemporaries, and inspired by The Doors.

Their keyboardist was...

David Greenfield,

who succumbed at 71 to Covid.

We will pay tribute to him today.

-Stop, I can’t hear anything.

I did as you said.

- I held it, but it’s a bit difficult.

-It was better before. The signal is weak.

Did you set the app correctly?

Yes, I checked twice.

- Did you tell him about the two Wi-Fi bars?

- Yeah, I told him. -And the mic connection?

- I only have two Wi-Fi bars.

-That’s probably the problem.

You told me that was enough.

- -What if you connect to the Livebox? - Oh no,

but I don't have an Ethernet port.

-Alright then, I’ll do a little investigation and call you back.

I’m happy to answer your questions.

I did hesitate quite a bit. -Oh?

- For what reason? - I feel very privileged.

At such a dark time

where so many people are struck by misery,

by illness, mourning, unemployment,

where people are confined in tiny accommodations,

where the worst off are forced to take the greatest risks,

I find there’s a form of obscenity,

if you will, in...

in flaunting the luck I have

to have a family home to confine myself in.

-Can you share with us what gives you hope?

We all need it.

Honestly...

right now, there’s nothing that gives me hope.

-Well...

A piece of music to recommend?

Yes.

Murder Most Foul by Bob Dylan, there you go.

- -What is it? - A 17-minute piece released

at the beginning of the lockdown. It tells the story of Kennedy’s death,

the end of innocence and how his entire generation

accepted this disaster by listening to music.

Yes.

In any case, that’s my interpretation of it.

That’s how I received it.

-You’re not in a positive mood.

I warned you about that.

- -A reading to recommend? - Excuse me.

- Sorry, am I interrupting you? - Not at all.

- The garbage truck passed. They didn’t pick up our bin.

- That’s happened before. There must be a problem.

- Should I bring it in? - Yes. I’ll take care of it.

- Alright. I’ll leave you to it. Kisses.

- Excuse me. -Please, go ahead.

No problem.

Do you have a reading to recommend?

So, without hesitation,

I would say The Pillow Book by Sei Shonagon.

She’s a courtesan from medieval Japan

who listed what she liked and didn’t like,

that made her sad and joyful.

If you want, it’s like a sort of...

herbarium of feelings

where all the beauty and all the melancholy of the world exist.

-Is it in the form

of fragments? Have you read it all?

No, but it’s not meant

to be read in full.

It’s a bit like the Yi King, if you will.

You pick a page like that, at random.

Otherwise, I recommend

The Tale of Genji by Lady Murasaki.

- Are you kidding? - In what way?

Have you read The Tale of Genji?

Uh...

Not really, but I plan to.

- Oh really? - Yes.

I’ve been meaning to for a long time. Actually, I bought

the new two-volume translation by Sieffert for my mother.

I took it when she passed away.

- And she passed away in what year? - Oh...

2006. They laugh.

I admit that...

I was discouraged by the preface.

The translator, you see,

explains why it’s boring. Small laugh.

According to him, that’s not an obstacle.

Well... He laughs.

Shall we warm up with some throws?

- It’s true that it’s good to mention The Tale of Genji on France Culture.

Yeah, alright, it sounds good.

But you know, right now,

I’m struggling with fiction.

I don’t know where that comes from.

David Hockney talks about it in an interview.

Can’t you just speak plainly?

It’s always: “David Hockney said this.”

- But I admire him, so I pay attention to what he says.

Especially since I didn’t wait

to read historical and popular science books.

Effortful shout.

Hence the books on genetics

- which seem to obsess you. - Oh yeah, no but...

It’s true that today, epigenetics

and the study of paleohistory

using DNA, is the most

fascinating thing, especially since we’re still only at the beginning.

So it leaves prospects for discoveries that are just amazing.

- Yes, it’s fascinating. It’s astonishing.

- Hey! - Huh?

- You're not going to correct me on everything. - On nothing.

Come on.

- Match. - Match. You have a rematch to take.

Stop

rubbing the pot, it’s exasperating.

Have you tried white vinegar?

It’s been soaking for three days.

There’s no result.

- Throw it away. You keep saying it’s kaputt.

- I’ll manage. - Throw it away.

It’ll take as long as it takes,

but I’ll manage.

What’s the neighbor’s name?

- Uh, which one? - The one with the woods where I phone.

Mr. Le Malinois.

- Mr. Le Malinois, a rude character. - Oh?

- I was with my therapist. He interrupted me.

- You know, it’s forbidden to take the local path.

- You can now, if you keep the distances.

Yes, but if you take the local path,

you go directly to the Le Malinois'.

And there, it’s private property.

- Well, I warned you. - The guy was rude.

He interrogated me. I told him to fuck off.

- Told him to fuck off? - Yes.

- Why didn’t you go phone at the Régnauds'?

- The woods, that’s where I make my calls.

- It’s not a woods. It’s a hunting reserve.

I’m going to take a shower.

- I’ll set the table afterward. - We’ll take care of it.

How long will it take? Half an hour?

- I looked it up. On Marmiton, they say 25 minutes at 210.

If anyone's interested,

I inquired about the bins.

- Oh, that’s great. - Oh really?

Well...

- Do you want me to explain? - I’m fascinated.

- Well then, our bin isn’t up to standard.

So the garbage truck doesn’t pick it up.

Why not up to standard?

So, I contacted

the Sictom

of Hurepoix.

The Sictom of Hurepoix?

- Yes, I know. We’re in the Chevreuse valley,

but for our waste, we depend on the Sictom of Hurepoix.

- That’s the name of the region. - Sictom?

- Intercommunal union for the treatment of household waste.

It’s up to them to provide the standard bin.

In a way, the bins belong to them.

- Just like at my place in Côte d'Or. It’s very strict.

So, I ordered one.

But they won’t deliver because of the lockdown.

Anyway, for our household waste,

we can put our bags in the neighbor’s bins.

- And what if there’s no space? - Wait, there’s always

some space...

at...

the Mourghes', right across.

- Excuse me, it’s captivating, but...

I’m going to check that the roast isn’t burning.

But the most thorny issue,

is the recyclables.

I didn’t know we were sorting.

- The recycling truck comes every Friday.

As long

as we don’t sort, or at least not to my knowledge...

- We’re going to do it. I bought a bin with two compartments.

It should arrive

tomorrow or the day after.

- How do you know? The carriers are overwhelmed.

No, but I can see it on the tracking.

Look, for example, we can see

that it just arrived in France. Look.

Mmh? There’s still the issue of glass.

Is it really

a problem, are you sure?

- No, but didn’t you see the amount of glass,

right behind the kitchen?

- No, I don’t often go behind the kitchen.

- If you went there... - I go, but not every day.

- I’ll take you there. - I believe you. I don’t care!

No, but I want you to see.

Come on.

I’m not coming with you, okay?

Here.

- Oh yes, indeed. That’s impressive.

Salsa music

It’s still unexpected,

this neighbor who listens to salsa all day long.

- Especially at lunchtime. - Well, yes.

That’s when we’re in the garden.

- He has the right to listen to music while eating.

Last year, we were in Cuba for your film.

Yes, it was salsa

morning, noon, and night. chuckles

There was music as soon as we crossed the hotel lobby.

Silence.

Ah!

He sighs.

This silence is beautiful.

Mmh.

- Usually, there are always planes,

cars in the distance.

Here, nothing.

- Yes, it's magical. Dog barking

Gandalf! Let go, that’s enough!

- Magical, yes. They laugh

Here!

- This neighbor, when he’s not listening to salsa,

he trains dogs.

I thought I noticed that.

He growls.

Dog barking.

Capone!

- Wait. He growls.

No, but...

- Wait, do you want coffee? - Yes, I want coffee.

Yes, I want coffee, I want coffee.

No, no, no!

Classical music plays.

- I sleep in the room that was my mother’s.

Our parents slept in separate rooms.

They divorced when we were kids,

but even before, they slept separately.

After, my mother lived in Paris.

We stayed with our father in the countryside,

with our Hungarian nanny.

We communicated with her in that language.

She never learned French.

Our mother came every weekend.

Like clockwork, she arrived on Friday evening.

She honked for us to come get her bags.

And only after that, she would park her car.

During the week, her room was off-limits.

We didn’t go in, we had no reason to.

It was, however, the largest room in the house,

the one furnished with the finest furniture and paintings.

One, quite remarkable, though small and dark,

is a Nordic landscape attributed to Ruysdael,

or to Allart Von Everdingen, it’s unclear.

The other painting, less interesting,

still has a story that I never tire of.

My Milanese grandfather, Guillaume Assayas,

wanted to buy a painting.

I think he would have phrased it in terms of investment.

So he addressed his friend,

the director of the Brera Art Gallery.

He offered him two options.

One more reasonable, a safe investment,

a nice 18th-century landscape

by the Tuscan artist Francesco Zuccarelli,

in a simple, classic, and timeless style,

or a riskier choice,

that of a young Italian Jewish artist living in Paris

painting in the modern style of his time.

That would be Amedeo Modigliani.

My grandfather did not show himself to be discerning.

He chose Zuccarelli.

A little before her death,

my mother told me that she wished that after her passing,

she said "when I'm in China,"

I’ll take back her room.

It took me years to decide on it

so much this forbidden room intimidated me.

I’ve always thought of places as haunted, inhabited.

And this one more than others.

Today, I’ve gotten used to it,

even if I feel that I live at my mother's

and that this room will remain hers no matter what I do.

Does that mean I have made peace with my mother?

Did I need to reconcile with her?

Maybe.

She regretted that I didn’t have children like my brother.

One year, she gave me a small copper carpenter's measure.

And she added, to make it clear,

that Saint Joseph was a carpenter.

Fate made that my daughter was born three years

after my mother passed away.

There is an adjoining room, now turned into a child's room.

It’s to be near my daughter that I adopted my mother’s room.

-After Orthodox theology with Father Chrysostom,

we will move on to a very different subject, rock'n'roll.

Are you with us, Étienne Berger?

Good evening, Laure.

-Good evening, Étienne Berger. What have you concocted for us tonight?

- Well, Laure, for our confined listeners,

a ray of Californian sunshine

with the first part of a series dedicated to the Beach Boys.

-You’re going to make some happy among the surf lovers.

Not just them, I hope.

- Now that the beaches are open again to bathers.

Beep

- Can't you stay a few more days?

- I haven’t seen my daughter in a month. It's the first time.

- Come back here. - I can't, school is starting again.

And I have my house, my garden, my parents...

- I know. - You’ll join us.

- I can't. It's more than 100 km away.

- You say that the restrictions will end.

It's hard to have certainties.

Who would have imagined that we would be confined for three months?

- Try to be patient with your brother. - But I am being patient.

- Are you holding it in? - I’m holding it in.

- He’s imposing his neuroses. - You both have very different

- views of the pandemic. - That’s the least we can say.

I don’t want to get caught up in silly anxieties.

- Aren’t you exaggerating a bit? - Not at all.

We’re following safety measures.

What’s the problem?

- It's that we don't know anything about this disease.

He’s cautious, maybe too much, but I understand him.

- I have enough worries. I don’t want to add to them.

- Did you talk to your wife? - Yes. When we can move around,

she’ll go get her things.

She’ll move them to her place in Normandy.

The look you’re giving...

Are you okay? Are you at peace with it?

It’s complicated.

Married very young, 25 years of life together.

I don’t want to be at peace right away.

You know how poorly I sleep.

Not when I'm here.

- Yes, not when you're here, but you’re not here enough.

I could say the same.

It’s the first time we’ve spent a month together.

- A step in the right direction. - A strange step.

But a step nonetheless.

An unexpected step.

- Even a hopeful one. - Yes.

Hopeful.

- The bouquet Morgane made for me is nice.

She took the wisteria from the neighbors.

And their broom.

- Everyone was sad that you were leaving.

Especially me.

Groaning in effort

She sighs.

I don’t like to prolong goodbyes.

- I’ll call you when I arrive. - Mmh.

He sighs.

Not as it approaches.

Someone mumbles.

- Stop! - Why "stop"?

Don’t walk on the floor I’ve cleaned.

No shoes, sir.

- I’m going to the kitchen to get a coffee.

- No, seriously, you wait for it to dry.

He laughs.

Well... But really,

what’s the need to wash the entryway tiles?

- I do it once a week, on Sundays,

in case you hadn’t noticed.

- It was clean. - No, we come in,

we walk in all sorts of stuff. It's unhealthy.

- Unhealthy? - Yes, unhealthy.

You’re obsessed with a thousand other things. So it’s fine!

- No, but listen, no one says otherwise.

You’re taking it in an unpleasant tone.

Total respect.

- I’m fed up!

- But... - I make a comment,

and you lock yourself in your office for an hour!

I could sulk! I have reasons.

But I keep quiet and shut up.

- No, go ahead, say it! What reasons?

- I don’t want to talk about it. - Well then...

- I adapt to your quirks. - What quirks?

I don’t know, I just ask you to leave the boxes outside.

Not to shop

in all sorts of stores where people aren’t wearing masks.

- Is that extravagant? - I do it!

I adapt! I clean the entrance, I ask you to respect that.

Did I invent

that everything should be left outside?

These are recommendations from reliable sources.

I can’t take this paranoia anymore.

I’ve looked into it, you’re not part of the at-risk populations:

it’s the obese and the elderly with multiple conditions.

I’m tired of bearing your anxieties! It oppresses me to be locked in.

I need to take my car and go wherever I want.

- I’m not the one forbidding you. - But you’re the one imposing.

All day, it’s your concerns.

I’m fed up!

I believe in carefree living.

It’s the best immune defense.

The more serene you are, the less you catch it.

So what you mean to say is,

we should stop worrying?

Stop overthinking, yes.

I’m waiting for the lockdown to end so I can live

and not have to account for it.

Sorry, but that’s enough.

I’m patient, but up to a point. Damn!

See, it’s pointless to raise your voice.

I’m not the one sulking.

Sorry if I’m raising my voice, but it needs to come out.

- I’m holding back! - Okay.

- There, that’s good. - Okay.

There, it’s been said.

Thank you.

Did you see? The magnolia has revived.

Oh yes.

I thought the frost had killed it.

- The flowers are dead, but the sap has risen.

- However, the lilacs are wilting.

Mmh.

We’ve seen them bloom and disappear.

- I hadn’t experienced that since my childhood.

Groaning with effort

He’s right.

You shouldn’t have sulked at him.

Wait, I never sulked.

- Of course you did. You locked yourself in your office.

Oh, but I had work to do.

At lunchtime?

Well...

- He had prepared the meal. He had put out flowers.

- No reason to get angry. - I never got angry.

I just went to get myself a coffee in the kitchen, come on...

Well, you wait for the floor to dry.

- Look, I went in on tiptoes

in sneakers, it’s fine!

- It makes him happy to have cleaned the floor.

Do you hear yourself? It makes him happy

- to have cleaned the floor? - Stop.

What’s the problem?

- I do a lot of things. I don’t bother anyone with that.

- What does that have to do with it? - Well...

- Your coffee can wait 10 minutes, right?

I don’t know...

You two bicker like children.

- Well... It’s also here. It brings back childhood.

- You were the big brother, and he was the little brother.

Now, you’re the same age. You’re two adults.

- Sometimes, I wonder. - Me too. And it’s not positive.

But they are shared memories.

They’re Hungarian words we thought we had forgotten.

A childhood spent in the countryside,

creates conscious and unconscious bonds.

- And a whole life lived independently,

doesn’t make you a bit like strangers?

- Strangers? You’re exaggerating. - Not at all.

You’ve both built yourselves in different ways

in worlds not so far apart, but which, in essence, have nothing to do with each other.

- Perhaps. - Just because you share

a thousand childhood anecdotes, you think you’re identical.

But it’s the tree that hides the forest.

Yes.

But come on...

What forest, according to you?

- It’s life, existence, time, well...

There’s nothing else.

Well, nothing else, I mean...

- Do you want to be defined by your childhood?

No, no, no.

Well, then?

No, but...

Our father died when we were relatively young.

We were 20.

We had to face it together.

Well... And?

Well, nothing. Nothing.

Just that childhood lasted longer.

Until when?

Until my brother got married.

You want my diagnosis?

- Well, yes. What you have to say interests me.

Nothing more banal.

Okay.

- Are you making pancakes? - Well, yes.

Oh. For lunch?

- For those who aren’t tired of them. Light laughter

The door is resistant.

Ah...

- Are you managing? - Yes.

I couldn’t take it anymore with that door.

Groaning with effort

It was driving me crazy.

Small laugh

It’s been years since it squeaks.

Maybe even decades.

He breathes out.

Heavy breathing

And there you go.

There, I got it.

Pshh!

Last week, it was fine. Not this week.

-It was fine?

- I was doing well during the lockdown. It reassured me.

-What reassured you?

Well...

The idea that everything stops,

that I could be consciously away from the world.

-You could have

- found that anxious. - Not at all!

There’s such pressure to be in the flow of the world,

in its acceleration,

that the fact everything stops

has a liberating power.

It reminded me of L'An 01. Do you know what that is?

-Not really.

- It’s an anarchist utopia that was created

by a cartoonist

from Charlie Hebdo,

Gébé.

The slogan was: "We stop everything. We start over, and it’s not sad."

-You seem comfortable

with the first part of the program.

Yes, we stop everything.

-A little less with the second.

That’s true. They say

that the deconfinement will be announced,

that it will be gradual.

But barring a catastrophe,

the government wants to stick to its schedule.

But me...

I...

I liked the fact

of being in a stopped time.

I liked the idea of living

a somewhat miraculous interlude.

-Miraculous, you said?

I like

the idea of starting over, but in the sense of starting completely over.

But now, the perspective is to resume as before,

but with surgical masks and barrier gestures.

- -That interests you less. - Yes, that makes me anxious.

I had a clash with my brother.

-About...?

About nothing special.

I think it’s more a symptom.

-A symptom of what?

Well...

a symptom of where we are. -And where are we,

in your opinion?

Rather where I am.

Despite the anxieties,

I enjoyed the lockdown.

-Mmh. Your brother, not.

No, really not.

He experienced it as an aggression against his freedom.

- -It wasn't your fault. - No, but still,

since I took the threat seriously,

I became the vector of the lockdown.

I legitimized the lockdown. - He just separated

from his wife, he wants to be free.

- And you, you prevent him from being free. - Me, no.

- What you embody. Especially if you experience it positively.

Well, it was like a utopia.

But this utopia had to end.

-Assuming it ever took place.

You’re right.

It didn’t take place.

Immobility, it can’t be a utopia.

Immobility is nothingness.

And so is confinement.

The saddest part of all this,

is thinking that nothing will change.

- -Are you sure? - Alas, yes.

- -Are you afraid of deconfinement? - Yes.

- -From a health perspective? - Well,

I’m afraid of living in a pandemic world.

-Indeed, you seem terrified.

Well, it's a bit

excessive to say "terrified," but...

Actually, no, it’s not excessive.

I am terrified.

- Hello. - Hello.

There are still two left.

- I’ll bring them to you. - Thank you.

The grocer went out without his mask. Is that serious?

He’s usually careful.

Well, he didn’t have it.

- Did you have yours? - Yes, of course.

Did you talk?

While keeping our distance.

He charged at me with his crate.

I didn’t have time to step aside. I don’t remember if he spoke.

I can’t recall.

- Was it outside? - Mmh.

- Well, I think it’s fine. - Are you sure?

- I’ve been anxious about it since then. - No, well, there’s...

There’s no reason.

- Well, I think so. - You think?

No, no, I’m sure.

Clears throat.

Heavy breathing. I wanted to tell you...

Well, I...

I was happy to be confined with you.

Me too.

- I wouldn’t have wanted to be confined with anyone else.

Me neither.

How long has it been?

- That we’ve been confined? - No, that we’ve been together.

It’s been two years.

Well, less than two years. Summer 2018.

But we never really spent any time together.

You were always off for scouting, festivals,

when you filmed in Cuba...

- You came to Cuba. - Yes, but not for long.

It’s like confinement forced us

to live together for the first time.

- And it was significant. - Yes.

Little laugh. It was completely significant.

- Well, we never said it. - Mmh.

It’s better to say it.

- So, basically, that means we'll stay confined together

even when we’re deconfined?

I have no other plans.

Me neither.

David Hockney...

- Stop with David Hockney! I can't take it anymore, stop.

Little laugh.

- Mmh? - David Hockney

said he was 83 years old

and that he was going to die.

He said

we die because we are born.

And he said the most important thing

is love.

Mmh.

It’s love.

- Sometimes, it can take time to understand that.

Well, the message has gotten through.

- Yes. She laughs.

- Yes, it got through. - It got through.

Soft groan.

He sighs.

Horn honks.

Can I go see Dad?

- You wait here. I need to talk to your father.

- But Mom... - No, give us 5 minutes!

Baby coos.

- Are you helping him with his bag? - Yes.

- Watch out for Moritz in the sun. - Don’t worry.

- Hi, Louis. - Hi, Paul.

She sighs.

- How are you? - I’m fine.

Well, Louis' parents got Covid.

Oh, damn.

- They were isolated. How did that happen? - We don’t know.

They went grocery shopping

the day we had a pediatric appointment.

Did they wear masks?

- Fabric masks sent by a cousin.

Don't look any further.

I'm really not looking.

With a baby, it's not safe to stay.

We're going back to Paris.

Heavy breathing.

Do they have symptoms?

- Yes, they have had a fever for two days.

They've lost taste and smell.

We haven't been in contact. We were in a separate building.

I took a test. I’m negative.

So, I hope that reassures you.

Why do you say that?

- I know you a little. We lived together for ten years.

You’re scared.

Scared...

You're scared of dying from Covid.

- Well, I’m cautious about Covid.

We don't know the disease. I'd rather not have it.

That's what I'm saying.

- Between that and being afraid of dying, there's a big gap.

- I can guarantee Britt is negative.

We've been living in isolation for two weeks.

I wasn't asking you for that much.

- You asked me if we were being careful.

- It's normal for me to ask you that.

- No need to make her wear her mask.

- There you go. - Well, that's what I wanted to know.

Because after, you insisted.

- Maybe we don’t have the same standards.

We just need to be clear.

- There you go. That’s not a reason to be heavy.

- Am I heavy? - Yes, heavy. Well, let’s try

to avoid that. I have neither the time nor the desire.

I have an appointment with the notary.

- With the notary? - Yeah.

I’m selling my apartment.

You bought it two years ago.

- It doesn’t suit me anymore since Moritz arrived.

That’s for sure.

A baby...

It takes up space and energy.

And tell me,

how do Britt and Moritz get along?

- Very well. - Oh!

She adores her little brother.

I let her take care of him. It creates a bond.

And where are you going?

- We found a house in Pré-Saint-Gervais.

There’s even a garden with a fig tree.

He sighs.

- And how do you plan to handle

Britt's school?

Because it’s close to my place.

She'll take the metro.

- She's 10 years old. - For now,

there's no school open.

We're talking about next year, and even then...

And even then...

There are at least six months of work.

- Do you really think it's the right time

to dive into this venture?

- No, this is definitely not the right time.

But I have to secure things. And it’s not easy.

Some days I just break down.

I know.

- No, you don’t. You don’t have money problems.

Well, I did when I was young.

But not real problems.

No, that’s true.

I didn’t have kids. So there were no stakes, I know.

That was your choice.

- I didn't make the same one. - Yes.

She sighs.

And we agree on this, right?

Three hours minimum for online classes,

- every morning. - What online classes?

- There weren’t any, to my knowledge. - Excuse me,

I wasn’t precise enough.

I meant the exercises the teachers put online.

On the school website. Have you heard of it?

I’m doing like you and keeping an eye.

- She has a report to submit on Pericles.

They’re doing it online together with her friend Edwarda.

- Pericles? She laughs.

- I know. It surprised me too.

- But you know what? I wonder

if it’s not a tactic to steal my tablet

and supposedly do FaceTimes

to go on dumb sites.

- No, they’re working. - If you say so.

They hum.

Brit!

Dad!

Happy little grunts.

Brit laughs.

- I missed you. Kiss.

- How are you? - I’m good.

Mom!

- Oh, well, are you going to do your homework?

- You promise me? - Promised.

- When I call you, you'll show me.

- Okay. - Oh...

Kisses.

Well...

They laugh.

- Well then, bye. - Yeah, bye.

Oh wow!

Did you have a good time with mom?

Yes, I watched all the Scream movies.

- Is that it? - No.

- We played Scrabble and Monopoly. - Ah.

- I went shopping with mom and Louis.

- That's still not very prudent.

- Even if we catch Covid, it’s not that serious.

- Personally, I’d prefer you not to catch it.

- Mom says you’re afraid of dying from Covid.

I prefer to avoid getting it.

- You’re not at great risk. - Yeah, well...

You’ll explain why. I’m interested.

Seatbelt.

He sighs.

Did you like Louis's parents' house?

Totally! They’re so nice.

- They set up a trampoline. - Ah, okay.

We had contests.

- Did you win? - Of course.

I always win.

Little grunt.

Pshi!

They laugh.

Can we set up a trampoline?

The garden is too small.

At the Régnauds'.

That’s not our place.

- It’s super big. There will be space.

Yeah, but still,

it's not our place.

Do you have all your school stuff?

- I took everything. - Otherwise,

your mom is going to kill us. They laugh.

Okay, let’s go.

Did you do all your homework?

- I did everything with mom. But I have a presentation to finish.

Yes, I know, I know.

It’s on "Pericles," right?

Pericles!

No, but it’s fine. Pericles.

And why Pericles?

- We had to choose a great king. We hesitated with Ramses II.

Ah!

Why focus on Pericles?

- He had the Pantheon built. - Mmh...

Are you really sure?

Ah, the Parthenon.

There you go, the Parthenon.

- Edwarda visited the Parthenon with her parents.

- Ah! Okay. - His wife,

was Aspasia, a very free woman for her time.

- I didn’t know that. - She was even accused

of pimping.

- Is that true? That’s not very respectable.

- Do you know what that is? - Perfectly.

- He laughs. - Go ahead, explain.

- A woman who trades in women.

Yes, okay.

You could say that, yes. Well done.

- We also wanted to talk about the great wars.

Mmh!

Pericles, he was a strategist.

- Okay. - That means a war leader.

So he's depicted with a helmet.

He laughs.

- You impressed me. - It’s nothing,

I read it on Wikipedia.

Can you print me some photos?

Oh sure. No problemo, that.

Why are you stopping?

Uh...

I wanted to tell you something important

and that you need to understand.

- And you don’t want to say it while driving?

- No. Little laugh.

Okay, I’m listening.

What I wanted to tell you,

is that I saw a notary.

What’s a notary?

- The person you go to if you want to buy or sell a house,

a bit like mom.

- Cool, the house in Pré-Saint Gervais.

I can’t wait. There’s a fig tree.

So you know,

the house in Montabé belonged to your grandfather.

Yes, you’ve told me that already.

It was a farm building.

- Yes. And when your grandfather died, well, the house

went to his two sons.

Your uncle Étienne

- and me. - So that means

- you own half of it? - Exactly, and...

I made a document with the notary so that this half...

He sighs.

Well...

it should now be yours.

- Mine? - Yes. Yeah.

You’re telling me that the house,

- it’s mine? - Yes, well,

- half of it, right? - Half.

Can I invite all the friends I want?

- Well, only if your uncle agrees.

Anyway, for now,

I’m the usufructuary.

You’re confusing me.

- I’m the one responsible, if you want.

So I need to negotiate with you

to invite friends?

Exactly.

Can I invite friends?

Not with COVID.

- Please. - No.

I told you, not with COVID.

- What’s the point of you giving it to me?

I thought you’d be interested.

Is that why you stopped?

Should I start driving again?

Okay.

- Okay. Little laugh.

Let’s go.

- Anyway, I suspected it. - Suspected what?

That one day the house would be mine.

Yes, but there are your cousins too.

And my cousins.

- That’s how it works. - You’re right.

- So it’s normal? - Yes.

It’s normal.

"Ballad of the Ladies of Times Past" Georges Brassens

- Tell me where, in which country

Is Flora, the beautiful Roman

Archipiades, born Thaïs

Who was her first cousin

Echo speaking when one leads

Above river or on pond

Who had beauty too much more than human

But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Who had beauty too much more than human

But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Where is the very wise Héloïse

For whom was castrated and then became a monk

Pierre Esbaillart at Saint-Denis

For his love had this misfortune

Likewise, where is the queen

Who commanded that Buridan

Be thrown in a sack in the Seine

But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Be thrown in a sack in the Seine

But where are the snows of yesteryear?

The queen as white as a lily

Who sang with a siren's voice

Berte with the big foot, Bietris, Alis

Harembourgis who held Maine

And Jeanne the good Lorraine

Who was burned by the English in Rouen

Where are they, sovereign Virgin

But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Where are they, sovereign Virgin

But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Prince, do not inquire for a week

Where they are, born of this year

Let not this refrain remain with you

But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Let not this refrain remain with you

But where are the snows of yesteryear?