All language subtitles for My.Old.Lady.2014.LIMITED.720p.BluRay.x264-Felony

Hello?

Hello?

Bonjour?

Hello?

Bonjour.

Hello?

Nobody home?

Hello?

Anyone here?

Excuse me.

Hello.

Hello?

- Oh, God!
- Oh, mon Dieu!

I'm sorry. Je suis désolé.

I-I think... I think it would
be better for both of us...

if you spoke in English.

Yes. Good. Well, the door
downstairs was open, and I just...

You're Mathias.

I'm Mathias, yes.
I actually call myself Jim.

But, I like Mathias.
How do you know my name?

Maître Brinot told me
you'd be stopping by.

The lawyer, Christophe Brinot.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, the lawyer.
For the apartment. Yes.

See, I inherited this
apartment from my father.

- He died and left it.
- I'm... I'm Madame Girard.

Mathilde Girard.

Okay. Well, nice to meet you.

Do you think...
Could you show me around?

Could I...

Oh, y-yes. Yes, I could.
Of course... I could.

There are... There are quite
a few rooms upstairs.

Y-yeah. A lot.
I went up there before I saw you.

No, I haven't been up there in years.
My legs are useless.

Some of the rooms haven't
been used for, oh, 30 years.

And this... this...

is the Salon d'Hiver.

In its time it was a glorious room.

We had wonderful parties out there...

in the garden.

Wait. That garden is...
That's part of the property?

A garden like that in the middle
of Paris must be worth a fortune.

That's awfully nice.

A little out of tune, but...

It's got a nice action.

You look remarkably like your father.

Y-You knew my father?

Did he buy the apartment from you?

Didn't you speak with Maître Brinot?

The lawyer. Y-Yeah, well...
I called him.

No. He doesn't... doesn't speak English.

Not a lot, no. And I haven't
spoken French since I was a kid.

So nobody's...

ever explained the situation.

Wh-Wh-What situation?

Well, this... this apartment...

is a viager.

The word viager...
means, literally, for life.

It's a French system.

You know, for buying
and selling apartments.

The buyer gets the apartment cheaply,

you see, for what we
call a petit bouquet.

But then the buyer...

must pay the seller a fee,

you know, until the seller dies.

I don't quite follow this.

M-my father...

bought this apartment as an
investment 40 years ago.

Oh, no, 43 years ago.
It was after my husband died.

Forty-three years ago.
He owned this apartment until he died

and left it to me in his will,
which was just probated.

You must have inherited quite...
quite a lot.

No. Some books.

His watch. And this apartment.

- In total?
- Period.

Where did the rest go?

- Oh, to who?
- To whom?

- Oh, to whom?
- Yes.

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.

I taught English for years.

I mean, I've stopped...

I've stopped teaching formally, but I
cannot stop correcting people. Sorry.

So, tell me. Where did the rest go?

He left his money to charity. He didn't
feel comfortable leaving it to me.

Except the apartment.

The apartment and... excuse me.

And... some,

French classics in French,
which should be very useful.

And... that's it. So who's been...
who's been collecting your rent?

It's not rent, you see.

It's a fee, payable to me each month.

I'm sorry. Payable to you?

- To me.
- Until you die?

And not a minute afterwards. Thank you.

Are you kidding?

- Are you kidding?
- Not at all.

It's not a lot of money by today's
standards, for an apartment this size.

2,400 euros...

a month.

And...

I'm responsible?

Well, I've been paid to
the end of the month.

- But when the new month begins...
- So...

What I inherited was a
2,400-euro-a-month debt?

Well, it seems like it, yes.

That's... perfect.

He got me again.

Are you... Are you unwell?

A bit, yeah. I...

I used the last cent
that I had to get here.

This place was my last hope.

Wh... This apartment?
Don't you have an apartment in New York?

No, not anymore, no.

Well, weren't you
planning on going back?

The plan was to...

sell this apartment and then,
I don't know, go somewhere.

I don't know. Somewhere.
Just not stay in Paris.

But you have a plane ticket home?

So, what you're saying is, I...

I own this apartment, and...

I also own you.

Yes. Yes, you own the
apartment and you also own me.

Until I die.

- After I've died...
- Then I'll just own the apartment.

- Exactly.
- How old are you?

Sorry. Please understand. I-I'm...

I'm in shock. I...

I'm completely broke.
I owe everyone I know money.

Except for a box full of French books
and this apartment, I have nothing.

Didn't you have anything yourself
before your father died?

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, I had lots of stuff,

a long time ago when I was married.

- You're not married anymore?
- No, I'm divorced.

A couple of times.

Three times.

Three divorces?

One for each of my three
unpublished novels.

Any children?

I'm sorry? Oh, children? No. No.

I'm 90.

- That's a big number.
- Yes.

I've been here since my 20s.

Seventy years ago.

I was born in England.

And you stayed English.

Well, when you're born English,
you stay English.

Englishness...

is so obvious.

You have no choice.

How old are you? Sixty?

60-ish. I'm 57 and 11 months.

How did you get to be
57 and 11 months...

and have so little to show for it?

Hey. Please. Don't be subtle with me.

If you have something you want to ask
me that's a little cruel, just ask me.

I'm 90.

Subtlety's not something
that interests me.

Come with me. Come on.

Take this. You can
stay here for a while.

- Until you know what you're doing.
- Thank you.

I'll get the femme de ménage to
make up a room for you upstairs.

- Do you have any luggage?
- Just the one bag.

- That's it?
- That's it.

I think you need some air.
Take a walk by the Seine.

The night will be beautiful.
Only don't... Please don't jump in.

You'll probably fail to drown yourself
and just end up with a dreadful cold.

Dinner is at 8:00, precisely.

Don't be late,
or I'll start without you.

I'm still six hours behind.

I'll have to charge you
something for staying here.

I always need money,
and that watch is gold.

You're a pirate, Madame Girard.

C'est vrai.

Auguste Lefebvre. Pardon.

Lefebvre. I'm Mathias Gold. Call me Jim.

- Any chance you speak a little English?
- Yes, yes, of course I do.

- A little bit, Jim.
- Oh, good.

I'm wondering
if you have an apartment...

about 400 to 600 square
meters I could see?

I might have something, yes.
Sit down, please.

- How big did you say?
- Around 400 to 600 square meters.

Yes. With a little imagination...

and a bit of money...

this could be, un vrai palace.

Masterpiece.

And... this is... how much?

Oh, the owners ask 12 million.

But I think you can make
an offer with enough...

Twelve million. And how much would
this be worth if there were a...

garden in the back that's equally,
if not bigger, in size?

Why do you ask this?

Actually, I'm... I'm looking to sell.

D'accord. And where is your apartment?

It's in the Marais.

Yeah. I inherited it.
It's... It's really big.

I've got some pictures.

- Let's see.
- See? It's two stories.

It's about that long.
And this huge garden.

- This is good.
- Yeah. There's only one problem.

See that old lady?
Yeah. She lives there.

It's a viager.

- This is not good.
- Yes.

No... She's 90.

- Not so bad.
- Yeah.

This French guy,
whose name I can't pronounce,

he's called me a couple of times.
We Skyped while I was still in New York,

and he's really hot to buy it.

Of course I didn't tell him about
the old lady. I didn't know about her.

If you see him, tell him she's
90 right away. Tout de suite.

Good point. Yeah.

Do you have a... a card?

Oh, yes, yes. Of course.
Of course, I do.

- Voilà.
- Thanks.

- I'll be in touch.
- Okay. Call me.

I eat dinner each night
at precisely 8:00.

And breakfast is at precisely 8:00 a.m.

I don't eat lunch.
Lunch is not a meal that interests me.

Please?

It's a 10-year-old Gigondas.
Should be lovely.

Ten years is a perfect age for Gigondas.

Any younger, and the Syrah
overpowers the Grenache.

Any... Any older, then the alcohol...

overpowers everything and everyone.

You're very precise.
Very precise, Madame...

- Girard.
- Precision is the key to a long life.

Precision and wine.

Gotcha. I'm just gonna... have water.

I don't drink...
alcoholic beverages anymore.

You had a drink problem?

It wasn't a problem for me.
Just for the people around me.

A bit young. What a pity.

Vous parlez to me?

Parlez-vous anglais?

Cochon.

Oh, God, I'm... What? I'm...

- You!
- I'm very sorry! I'm sorry!

I... I had no idea that anybody
else was in the house!

I didn't see anything!

You're... Je suis désolé...

- C'est quoi ça?
- Calm.

Mathias... Mathias, this is Chloé.
Chloé, this is Mathias.

- What are you doing here?
- I own this apartment.

And I also own, Madame Girard.
Do you work here?

Chloé is my daughter. She lives here.

- Your daughter...
- Why are you staying here?

Well, your mother... invited me.

She seems upset.
What, is she... is she leaving?

She's probably going to check
the rooms to see where you slept.

She doesn't think you and I...

- Never mind.
- Well!

Hello. That's my room. Can I help you?

- How long are you staying here?
- Here in Paris, or here in the apartment?

Here in this apartment?
How long are you staying in this apartment?

I don't know. I'm paying rent.

- Why?
- Wh-Why?

Why are you paying rent?

- Chloé!
- Maman, s'il te plaît.

You don't have to speak
French in front of me.

- I can go to my room if you like.
- Yes, please. Thank you. Do.

- What? Go to my room?
- Yes. Please do!

Your daughter has a
wonderfully welcoming spirit.

I feel bienvenu beyond
belief in her presence.

No, no, no. No French.
My French is for shit.

Please don't be vulgar.

Well, I'll try not to be,
but I can't make any promises.

I know exactly who you are,
and I know exactly why you're here.

Who am I, exactly? And why am I here?

Chloé!

I had a Cairn terrier named Murphy
who used to eavesdrop constantly.

He was... 90 in dog years when he died.

- Same age as your mom.
- My mother's 92.

She told me she was 90.

- She lies about her age.
- She had me totally fooled.

You have no legal access here
before my mother dies.

If you continue to trespass, Mr. Gold...

Let's start all over. Hi.
I'm Mathias Gold. I'm from New York.

I'm renting a room from your mother.

- I've paid her...
- I have no time for this.

Simply and clearly, if you are not
out of this apartment by noon today,

our lawyers will petition
the police to have...

Excuse me, but I'd like to say something,
simply and clearly.

This is my apartment!

Yeah! My dad bought it!
And he paid for it over 43 years!

Gazillions of dollars!
And then he left it to me.

I don't care if your mother's
500 years old...

and the two of you
end up living in a tent.

I own this apartment,
and I'm gonna sell this apartment.

The moment I have the money
in my pocket, I'll be gone,

and not a minute before.

Okay?

You heard what he said?

Chloé, what did you say?

I'm going. I won't be home for dinner.

- Bonjour.
- Bonjour.

- Parlez-vous English?
- Yes. Definitely.

I speak français, anglais, Dutch, polonais.
Whatever you want.

Okay. Well, I've got some
things here I want to sell.

- That...
- No. I can't really sell all this stuff.

No, no... Well, I quite
like those '50s pieces.

- Okay. I got four of those.
- Oh. Great.

No, no.

And the lamp.
The lamp could be interesting.

- That's art deco, that table.
- Brilliant.

How much for four chairs like that,
an art deco table and the lamp?

Minute.

900, if everything is in top condition.

- Everything is in top condition.
- Yeah.

This is why it's worth 1,300.

No, no, no. One thousand
is my absolute maximum.

Twelve hundred?

- You can deliver today?
- I'll do my best.

- Brilliant.
- Pleasure doing business with you.

My table? My lamp?

- I'll be right back.
- Thank you.

Milles deux cents.

Merci beaucoup.

- What?
- Cleaning.

Cleaning. No, thanks.

- No. I do.
- Oh. Good.

Th-thank you for seeing me.

I found you through,
Madame Mathilde Girard.

- You are Madame Girard's friend?
- Friend? Well, you could say that.

Yes, provisionally. I'm Mathias Gold.

What can I do for you, Mr. Gold?
Are you ill?

N... Am I ill? No. I was actually
inquiring about Madame Girard's health.

Is she ill?

Well, that's what I was
hoping to find out.

I mean, she's quite elderly.

Why are you asking?

Well, if I can be honest, I...

I own her apartment as a viager.

Well...

you may have made a
terrible investment, Mr. Gold.

When I last saw Madame Girard,
she was in top form.

Top form? Well...

French women can live a long time.

- Yes. It's the red wine, isn't it?
- Exactly.

We had in France an old woman,
the oldest in the world... Jeanne Calment.

- Never heard of her.
- She was 122 years old when she died.

She sold her apartment in a viager
contract with her lawyer when she was 90.

Her lawyer paid her several thousand
francs a month for 30 years,

until he died. A viager
can be a very bad gamble.

As far as I know,
Madame Girard is in excellent health...

and could well outlive Jeanne Calment.

And you've been Madame Girard's
doctor for a long time?

Madame Girard and her daughter

were my mother's patients for
many years. Now they're mine.

They're also my English teachers.
We exchange skills.

I get private lessons.
They get doctoring.

It's an excellent arrangement.

Yes. You exchange skills.
That's charming.

Well, thank you for your time.

Not at all.

I'll get that.

Oh, no, no. No.
The trolley gives me balance.

Oh. Well, I, just wanted to help.

If I allow people to help,
they don't help at all.

I know what you mean.

So, when were you last in Paris?

Oh, I haven't been here
since I was a kid.

Oh? Why is that?

I think it's because my mother thought
Paris was the enemy, in a way.

My father was here on
business all the time and...

I think... You kind of got
the feeling that he loved Paris

more than he loved his wife or his son.
Why are there...

guns in my room?

My husband's business took him
to Africa, and he loved safari.

He was always game shooting.

That explains the dead animals on
my wall... the pig and the cow.

It's a wild boar.

I can't remember what
else was on the wall.

I wouldn't think it's a cow.

Well, to me,
anything of that girth is a cow.

Lucky you weren't here a few months ago.

You see, I've just sold most
of his animal head collection.

Oh, there were animal heads everywhere.

Lions, tigers, zebra.

Carnage.

Yes. Absolument carnage.

So, what are your memories of...
of Paris?

Not a lot. My father had
an apartment near here.

I remember kicking a ball on
a courtyard with a concierge.

Not with your father?

Oh, definitely not with my father. No.

Was he... Was he alone when he died?

I don't know. He was in a home.

It's a fear of mine.

He's buried here in France somewhere.
They shipped his ashes over.

Yes.

Fruits de mer.

Why not?

- I hope you like oysters.
- Oh, yes.

I have them specially
delivered on Tuesdays.

Expensive, no?

Not at all. Not at all.
I barter English lessons...

with the owner of the restaurant,
and his wife makes the mayonnaise.

Would you, please? It's a Chablis.

1990. Remarkable.

My private students come here
tonight between 9:00 and 10:00...

for English conversation.
I don't think we'll disturb you.

Oh, I'm sure you won't.

Well, good health.

Long life.

Which one?

Now, today is Jean-Christophe's
birthday, so...

- Happy birthday!
- Happy birthday!

Yes, happy birthday.

And, we say,
"Many happy returns of the day."

Many happy returns of the day.

Bravo. Brava. And what are
you reading, Jean-Christophe?

I'm reading Ulysse by James Joyce.

But it's Ulysses.

- Ulysses.
- Ulysses.

- Can you?
- Ulysses.

Ulysses. Such difficult language.

But well worth the struggle.

- Yes, Florence?
- What is the meaning of the word "wang"?

"Wang?" Well, it's...

it's an Oriental dynasty.

Why? What are you reading?

A roman by a young disciple
of Philip Roth... Philip Roth.

Well, what is the context?

"His blood-filled wang
was in her 'mouse'...

when the tea-kettle whistle whistled."

C'est du porno.

C'est du porno.

Also, Florence... "Mouth."

- "Mouth."
- "Mouse."

"Mouse" is a little thing.

"In her mouth."

- "In her mouth"?
- Yes.

Sorry! Nearly done.

I'm done!

It's all yours.

Okay.

"Café Colbert at 2:00."

Okay.

So, if I can't sell my old lady,
and I can't sell my apartment,

can I sell the contract?

Oui, oui, oui.

When someone can afford
a high-end apartment,

they rarely want involvement
in a viager situation.

Why is there only one toilet
in such a big apartment?

One toilet is the French way.
French people love eating,

but pooing isn't so important.

The old lady probably has
her own toilet downstairs.

What if I get the Girards to agree to split
the apartment into two apartments?

They keep the top floor, and I get you
to sell the bottom floor for me.

No problem, if we can find a buyer
who accepts a viager contract.

Compliqué.

The French guy I told you about?
François something.

He's... very hot to buy the apartment.

And I'm meeting the daughter
at 2:00 at a café.

I invited him to join us so I
can propose this split idea.

I'd be anxious to know.
Did you tell him about the old lady's age?

Yeah. Nothing seems to scare him.

Of course not.
It's a good age, a good address.

Where do you live, Lefebvre?

I live in the blood of Paris.

- Your coat's torn.
- Oh, yeah. It is.

Has François Roy contacted you yet?

"France Wah-Wah?"

A man called François Roy will be contacting
you regarding the sale of the apartment.

Yes. He already... He already called me.
In New York. We Skyped.

Be careful with him. He's a snake.

Mademoiselle Girard, I think we're
about to have a little problem.

- It's a pleasure to meet you face-to-face.
- As it were.

- What are you doing here?
- This is yours?

- You invited him?
- Just call me Jim.

- And remember, I don't speak French.
- Not a problem, Jim. We'll speak English.

- I'm sorry I'm a little bit late.
- This is an outrage.

Did you not speak to Mâitre Brinot?

I have. Several times.

I want to propose something.

This idea of splitting the apartment
into two apartments.

You keep apartment "A," with the toilet,
and I sell apartment "B" to Wah-Wah.

Vous êtes un imbécile.

I don't speak French, but I get the
gist of imbécile. What about you?

I'm only interested in the
entire apartment, as is.

Then what do you propose to offer...

for the entire apartment, as is?

- What are you doing?
- You are very direct.

Yes. Well?

- Nine million euros.
- The apartment is worth 12 million.

- Probably more.
- I think not.

Well, I've been talking to the
best real estate agent in France.

Several times. This man
lives in the blood of Paris.

At the moment, the property
is a merdier... a mess.

Both literally and legally.

Okay. I'm prepared
to consider your offer.

D'accord. D'accord.

Jim, you are legally within your
rights to sell the contract to me.

Why don't you just murder my mother and me?
It would make things a lot easier!

Can't you see what you're doing?

On Tuesday my mother dies,

on Wednesday this man has me thrown out
on the street with no money and no home,

and on Thursday the building that my
great-grandfather built for his children...

and their children and their children's
children is destroyed by this monster

and turned into one of
those hideous hotels!

It's all about the money, isn't it?

That's the speech you should
have made to your mother...

before she sold the apartment
to this man's father, for money.

My mother sold her apartment to this man's
father to keep it away from your father!

Guys. Guys.
You've got to keep it down. Okay?

Look, I just need a week
to consider your offer.

But I-I'm gonna need a
good-faith advance...

during the week of consideration.

I don't completely understand.

You haven't heard a single
word I've said, have you?

Quiet. Please.

It means that I won't negotiate
with anyone else for one week...

while I'm considering your offer.

But right now I need a binder from you,

a small bouquet in cash.

How much cash do you have on you?

- Are you serious?
- Deadly.

Let's look in our wallet, shall we?

- Really?
- No joke.

- 360 euros.
- That'll do. Okay.

Well?

You have my word as a New Yorker,
I will not talk to anyone else.

And I will give you my
answer in one week exactly.

This is unique.

- Mr. Gold. Jim.
- Jim.

- Chère, Mademoiselle Girard.
- Wah-Wah.

Let me get the tea.

Charmant? Garçon? Gendarme?

Le cheque.

He plans to turn our
building into a hotel

like the two monstrosities
he has in Montparnasse.

He has options to buy every apartment in
our building as soon as he gets ours.

But until he gets ours,
the city won't give permission.

So he really needs the apartment.
Excellent.

It's not about money. It's about
preserving a historic neighborhood.

Yeah, I get all that.
But what is so wrong about my idea

- about dividing it into two apartments?
- It's unacceptable.

Why? What do you want?

I want to buy the entire
apartment from you...

and keep it exactly as it is.

And I'm prepared to offer you
3,000 euros a square meter.

You're joking. Right?

Mr. Gold, if you had a heart or a soul,
you would accept my offer.

The apartment is worth 10 times that.
You heard Wah-Wah's offer.

That was just his opener.

Let me simplify things. By contract,

we are due to receive 2,400 euros
from you in one week, precisely.

If we don't receive our money
in a timely fashion,

our lawyers will instruct the court to
have your contract made null and void.

Bon après-midi, Jim.

- Sorry.
- Come in. Come in. I was just reading.

I just had tea with your daughter.

Now, that... that pleases me.

Does it? I'm not sure your daughter
would share your enthusiasm.

- Oh, are you still not getting on?
- Not so much, no.

Mrs. G, I want you to know
I'm trying to be fair.

About the apartment?

I offered your daughter

an extremely reasonable solution,
and she rejected it.

This is something you
must resolve with Chloé,

- for obvious reasons.
- Why obvious?

I'll be dead, won't I?

Right. Well, anyway, I wanted you
to know I'm trying to be reasonable.

Is your daughter going to be
having dinner here tonight?

Well, ye... Well, no. It's Wednesday.

She teaches a night class and she usually
has dinner with her friend beforehand.

- She has a friend?
- She has.

Male friend?

Yes.

Has your daughter ever been married?

Not at all.

Do you find my daughter interesting?

Are you a serious jazz person?

Do you know I saw
Django Reinhardt play guitar?

At La Grosse Pomme, Montmartre,

about 50 times. Or more.

Genius.

Seems a hundred years ago.

Poor chap. He died so young.

I had a romantic liaison
with Django Reinhardt.

Well, no, it was more
a flirtation, really.

You know, just a fling. A fling.

You had a fling with Django Reinhardt?

Well, Paris was different then, you know.
It was just after the war.

We were young and carefree,
in love with love.

Every day was filled
with romantic possibilities.

This is actually a fact? You really
had a fling with Django Reinhardt?

I did. I did.

You devil. That's very cool.

Did you ever, like, date Sigmund Freud?

No.

I may not be back in time for dinner.

- Are you going out?
- Yes, I... I feel that I should.

Mademoiselle Girard!

- Fancy meeting you, of all French people.
- Stop it.

- Stop it!
- Oh, it takes great pictures.

It doesn't work as a phone anymore
because I didn't pay my bill.

It's also good for telling the time now
that your mother's taken my watch.

- So, where are you coming from?
- Work.

Really?

- You work?
- I do!

- I teach.
- Really? What?

- What, "what"?
- What do you teach?

- English.
- Where?

My mother's school.
It's a bilingual French-English school.

We sold... She sold it.

But you still work there?

While the school still exists, they're obliged
to employ me. I was part of the sale.

Let me guess. Your mother arranged that?

- She did.
- Yeah. That seems to be her specialty.

So, tell me.
Who's the guy in the restaurant?

What?

The guy in the restaurant.
He looked familiar.

I think I saw him duck into a
hotel with you the other day.

But today he didn't seem quite so happy to
see you, what with the wife and all,

the kids. You know?

- How dare you?
- Oh, I dare!

You give me all that holier-than-thou
crap about family and tradition,

and you're doing the hoopie with
somebody's husband, some kid's dad?

And I'm a heartless bastard
because I want to sell an apartment?

- This is not your affair.
- Oh. Good choice of words.

I'm just wondering if it might be worth,

say, 2,400 euros a month to somebody for
me not to sit down with that man's wife...

and, you know,
have a little conversation...

over a café filtre
and pain au chocolat.

Please don't do that.

See? Just when you think things
are really bad, they get terrible.

"If you do not love me,
I shall not be loved."

- Bonjour.
- Yeah. Bonjour.

Mrs. G, are you, by any chance,
the charity that got my inheritance?

No. Not at all. Not at all.

But...

you knew my father pretty well.

Your father and I were lovers

since I was 29.

If you want to know for whom you
are named, you are named for me.

I am Mathilde. You are Mathias.

Bonsoir.

The end of my wagonhood. Cheers.

Midnight in Paris.

- What?
- Oh, there you are. I've been so worried.

- You've been drinking.
- Drinking, getting robbed.

No wallet. No phone.

My head feels like a broken arm.

- I've been terribly upset.
- Well, that makes two of us.

I'd like to ask you some questions.

I'll try to answer them.

When exactly did you meet my father?

Just a few years after Chloé's
father and I got married.

I knew. I knew when I met him
he would be the love of my...

No! Spare me the fromage.

Where was my mother when
this was happening?

In Paris.

- They'd just met.
- So...

So my father married my mother
after you two already hooked up?

We were young.

My husband was
very successful in business,

and your father was penniless.
It just seemed the best plan.

I...

How is it at my age
I can still be shocked?

Well, I'm shocked that you're shocked.

During three marriages,
you never had a lover?

I'm sorry to disappoint you, Madame G.
Some people...

do the right thing.

Well, why would you know the right thing
and your father and I not know?

What is so especially
clever about you...

and your way of understanding life?

Well.

I know...

my pain. See, I know the pain that you
brought into my life, and I don't like it.

- Oh, just stop drinking.
- Why?

It's only an escape.

Bingo.

Mrs. G, I... I'm sorry.
I fail to see the wonder of you.

It's no surprise that Max loved you.
You're his soul mate.

Max Gold was the coldest
son of a bitch I ever knew,

and I have known some
très connards froids!

I will not hear this.

Wait.

Wait! You will hear this
if I want to say it!

You tell me my father was Casanova
and St. John the Divine combined,

and I'm supposed to, what...
sit there and nod? And you...

But when I try to point out that my
father was less like St. John...

and more like Captain Hook,
you just won't hear it, will you?

Your father was loving,
kind and generous to a fault.

I'm sure he was!

With you, but not with me.
And certainly not with his wife.

I remember!

I remember being a kid and watching...

my mother.

I saw.

I knew. I knew.

Look, I-I have no doubt that
what you're saying is the truth.

But this particular truth is your truth.

Not mine.

Definitely not my mother's.

I don't have a friend in the world.

When my friends see me coming,
they cross the street.

Oh, no, no. They're terrified
that if they get too close,

they're going to catch some loser virus.

That's exactly what your
father said about you.

Excuse me?

That you drink too much
and you have no self-esteem.

Exactly.

I drink too much
and I have no self-esteem.

Do people like you and my
father ever wonder why?

Do you think self-esteem is
some kind of birthright,

that the baby's born, and the doctor
slaps him on his ass, and he says,

"Look! He's got all of his fingers!
He's got all of his toes.

He's got his little dick.
He's got his self-esteem."

It doesn't work that way.
No. If you wanna kill a kid,

you don't shoot him.
You just do nothing.

You just keep your distance
and watch the kid wither...

and devote his miserable life
to trying to please you.

To displease you.
At some point, the kid decides,

"Oh, I've just got to stop trying."
But you can't stop trying.

You think everyone else in the
world is loved, but not you.

You've got this terrible secret.

I can't imagine that my parents
spent a good deal of time...

organizing my birth.

I can only imagine my mother
desperately unhappy,

sobbing in the night, my father,
home from travel, home from your bed,

throwing in a little
midnight mercy hump.

Then my mother's pregnant with me,
with this constant,

- permanent reminder of this man!
- Just stop talking. Just stop talking.

You don't want to hear
about the other woman?

Absolutely not!

Just... stop talking.

- Fine.
- Now, I knew your father...

better than any person on
the face of this planet.

Better than your mother.
Certainly better than you.

And he was not your enemy.

You just need someone to blame
for your misery, so you blame him.

Well, your father is not
the source of your failure,

not the source of your poverty.
And he's certainly...

not the reason for your
unthinkable sadness.

You have life left, Mathias.

There is no greater wealth.

Now, I'm an old woman. There is...

There's nothing...

more tiring than exasperation.

And you... you've exhausted me.

Would you please...
please just leave me alone?

Fine.

You!

You better start packing,
'cause I'm selling.

I'm selling!

- Excuse me, Jim. Business.
- Do you have anything for a headache?

I do.

This works quickly.

I'm very pleased by your decision, Jim.

Good. When do I get the money?

As soon as the contract is signed.

And how soon do I get the contract?

Oh, is tomorrow noon all right?

Yeah. That'll be fine. I...

I'm gonna need another
small bouquet as a binder.

3,000 euros.

You'll have much more than that tomorrow
when you sign the contract.

Yeah, but I need the 3,000
euros today. In cash.

I'm afraid it won't be possible.

Oh, well. Then I won't be
able to sign the contract,

and you won't be able to ever
have the apartment. Cheers.

It is a threat, Mr. Gold?

No, Mr. Wah-Wah. This is a fact.

Vous êtes Monsieur Gold?

Wrong Monsieur Gold. That one's dead.

Tell me about these.

That's Chloé, isn't it? Right?

Yes, that's Chloé.
Your father took that in the garden.

You were beautiful children.

He brought you here once.

He never came back here
after your mother died.

He wrote some beautiful letters to me,
but he never came back.

Mrs. G, it's really not easy...

for me to process this
fabulous love story of yours.

I get that my father loved you.
What I don't get is that he never loved me.

Of course... Of course he loved you.

He just thought you were more
your mother's child than his.

Oh, that's sweet.

What about when I was 20
and living on my own?

Or when I was 40,
near death at Lennox Hill Hospital?

Six blocks from his house.

Why were you in hospital?

I had an accident. I...

I was taking a bath, and I...

Well, my razor blade slipped...

and cut both my wrists rather badly.

You tried to kill yourself?

I'm not very adept.

You saw that right away.
Remember the first day? You said,

"Don't jump in the Seine.
You'll just get a head cold."

Mathias, you must get help.

Help!

What sort of help were you
thinking about? Psychoanalysis?

I tried that. My doctor told me that
I should put the child that I was...

on the knee of the man I had become...

and comfort the child.

But I keep having these dreams

where the child that I was

is on my knee

and my hands are around his throat.

Speaking of children,
where is your daughter?

Isn't she usually home by now?

Philippe?

Chloé?

I've stopped teaching, Philippe, so you'll
have to find yourself another teacher.

But I hope you don't
because your English is perfect.

And if you stop taking classes,

you'll be able to spend
more time with your wife...

and your children.

Well...

Well...

No. Chloé, don't. Don't. Don't!

- I don't know what... what to say.
- Say good-bye.

Say this is a mistake.

Say, "I've got two beautiful daughters
waiting for me at home. This is crazy."

Chloé...

Do you really want to put your
beautiful family at risk?

No.

Heavy date tonight?

Excuse me?

I don't think I will.
Oh, I've got your rent. Here you go.

One, two, three, four, five.

600 for me...

and 2,400 for you.

Paid in full.

Thank you.

You better keep your mother alive for a
long time because as soon as she's dead,

there goes the neighborhood.

How can soul "clap its hands"?

What?

"An aged man is but a paltry thing,
a tattered coat upon a stick...

unless soul clap its hands and sing."

How can a soul clap its hands?

My book.

Well, all right. Fine.
So, in the face of that...

As it is your book, I'll ask you again.

How can soul clap its hands?

Don't know. Don't care.

I don't care. Nique ta mère.

Nique ta mère. I don't care.

A Yeatsian couplet in golden franglais.

It's a pity my father didn't know you.

In what sense?

He would have had your head on
the wall next to the other beasts.

In the carnage sense? Yes.
Isn't it lovely when things make sense?

You think your dad knew about my dad?

How could he not?

And you?

You-You knew what was going on?

I was 10 years old when I discovered
what was... going on.

That's very precocious.

I was 57 when I found out.

So what did you do?

What did I do about what?

If I'd have known what was going on,
I would have done something about it.

And what should I have
done that I didn't do?

- Stopped it!
- I was 10!

You could have told
your dad what you knew.

I hardly think that was my place.

And what would have been your place,
ma chère demoiselle?

I suppose my place was
to watch my father suffer.

- Oh, your father suffered?
- Oh, please.

What do you think?

Is that why he shot and stuffed
all those animals?

So he wouldn't have to shoot
and stuff your mother?

- Or your father?
- Or my father.

Did...

Did you ever...

Did your father ever ask
you about it, directly?

He didn't need to ask. He knew.

But he did ask, didn't he?

- Yes.
- And you lied.

- And I lied.
- How often did they see each other?

Often.

And your mother used you for an
excuse to get out of the house?

Why didn't your father try to stop it?

My father was totally discreet.

So, he suffered discreetly?

- That's the way French people do it.
- Yeah.

Vive la French people!

Vive la French people!

Now, that is truly sad.

I mean, all this we talk
about is, you know...

It's got a kind of historical,
hysterical sadness to it.

But this bottle is now.
This is... this is now.

This is an incontrovertible fact,

my dear, darling...

Mademoiselle Girard.

Bottle's a dead soldier.

I remember when I was 10.

I saw my mother out on our
balcony through our doors.

She was leaning over the balcony.

She was looking down on Park Avenue.
She was crying.

There's no question about what
she was thinking about doing.

She was leaning way, way over.

And I knew I had about five
seconds to do something,

so I... so I ran...

as fast as I could, right...

And I... And I put my arm right through
the glass on the door, and I...

I cut it wide open. See?

My mother snapped immediately
into serious mother mode.

She wrapped my arm up in a towel...

and took me off to the hospital.

I bled for her.

She bled for me.

Nine years later, I came home
one Saturday from college.

I... I used the key to let myself in.

I threw my duffel bag on the bed.
I called, "Hey, Ma! I'm home."

She called back, "I'm in my room"...

in this strange, throaty voice.

I go in, and she has this gun.

Not a hearty hunting rifle like
your dad's. No, hers was a...

snub-nosed,
chrome kind of pistoly thing...

that my father...

gave her to keep by her bed...

just in case an intruder were
to wander in while he was away.

My father.

She puts it in her mouth
and she kills herself.

No words. No complications. Just...

boom!

Terrible mess all over.

I sat on the floor.

I held her.

She died.

My mother said she died from an illness.

A bullet in the throat can
make a person extremely ill.

I'm so sorry.

She was wrong to do that to you.

You're right.

It wasn't very nice.

I...

I'm so upset.

No.

Chloé?

I got it!

- Monsieur Gold?
- Yeah.

I'm François Roy's assistant.

Yeah, give me that.

Am I disturbing you?

Are you disturbing me?

That's a bit of politesse
that boggles the brain.

Do you mind if I close these curtains?
Headache.

Oh. If you wish.

Has Chloé left for school?

That's my guess. I don't know for sure.
I can't, you know...

Who can say?
You know how it is with kids today.

You and my daughter were
awake together last night.

Very precise.

Usually a mother wants to know,
"Did you sleep with my daughter?"

Which actually describes
a perfectly innocent act.

But "Were you awake with my daughter?"
That's a 64-euro mother of a question.

I was awake most of the night
thinking about your mother.

Really? And?

I was thinking that she didn't
know about me is naive.

She must have known. I mean, nothing
passes unnoticed in a marriage, I think.

No, I think she knew,

and I think somehow she approved.

Approved?

You really believe that?

She did nothing to stop it.

She was stuck in a marriage
with a kid. She was trapped.

I stayed in my marriage by choice.

I was pregnant at the
same time as your mother.

Hold on. Is it... Is it possible that...

Max got two birds with one stone?
If you know what I mean.

No, I don't know what you mean.

Did Chloé have her own father?

Of course. Of course
Chloé had her own father.

You had your father.
Chloé had her father.

I think you're an old
French fibber, Mrs. G.

What went on between your father
and me concerned nobody but us.

We were discreet. We were cautious.
We were considerate.

I don't wish to cloud your
delusions in any way, Mrs. G,

but what went on between
you and my father...

concerned me and your daughter
quite significantly.

You were hardly discreet,
not at all cautious.

And considerate? Well...

In view of the 10 to 15 suicide
failures of my mother...

and the ultimate suicide success,
I just don't see

- how the word "considerate" fits in, exactly.
- Your mother killed herself?

Y...

- You didn't know? He didn't tell you?
- No.

No, I did not know.

I knew she was ill.

I... That's why he never came back.

That's so considerate.

Madame G?

- Doctor gone?
- Gone.

Is she dead or alive? She must be alive.
I didn't hear any hideous screams.

What are you staring at?
Do I have spinach between my teeth?

I can't have spinach between my teeth.

It's Châteauneuf-du-Pape
between my teeth.

Do you want my mother to outlive you?

Oh, a reference to my drinking.

Yes. I've been drinking with my...

little friend here. He's not...
not very good company.

He drinks not at all
and he says even less.

A boar... is a bore.

Speaking of wordplay, I've...

been doing a little ink sport myself.

It's... it's for you. It's a gift.

It's a... It's a small...

memoir.

Mostly my anec-dotage.

But I think you'll be amused
and engaged from cover to cover.

Should I...

Please don't... don't read it
while I'm in the room.

It'll be embarrassing, for both of us.

Do you mind if I ask you
something personal?

Of course.

What's...

what's happening with your friend?

My friend?

He has a wife and two children

and a granddaughter
from his first marriage.

I thought that just having
him in my life was...

was worth it, but I was wrong.

I was wrong.

He's gone now. I asked him to go.

What you said to me...

hurt me,

because it was true.

I was doing to those children...

exactly what our parents did to us.

It's a pity we didn't meet
before we were born.

What your mother did to you...

was unthinkably cruel,

unforgivable.

No. No, you really... No. We can't.

If you kiss me, I'll just drag you down.

I do that to people.

Once they kiss me,
their lives change for the worse.

You're so beautiful.

I'm not beautiful. I'm nearly old.

No. You're beautiful.

- You've been warned.
- I know.

My name is Mathias Gold.

When I used to have friends,
they called me Jim,

and I would answer.

I grew up on Park Avenue
in New York City.

My parents were wealthy.

I was born with a silver
knife in my back.

Anytime anyone follows their heart,
someone else gets their heart broken.

There's always detritus,

always hurt, always pain.

Love is a limited substance.

When you give love to someone new,
you have to take it away from someone old.

My father took every ounce of love
he had and dumped it in Paris.

People like us think we've been
cursed by God, but, in fact,

we've been cursed by our parents.

You look in the mirror,
and you see an adult.

But you have to look more carefully.

There's a big piece of you
that never grew up.

It may have grown tall, but not up.

You spend your life waiting
for your parents to come back

and make it all right.
But they don't come back.

It's not all right.

You have to somehow move past them.

You have to somehow convince yourself
that you don't need those people.

Because you don't.

Couldn't you sleep?

- No.
- Nor could I.

I called to you in the night.

- Why?
- I wanted to talk to you.

- Why?
- Oh, I've lived too long, Chloé.

I've only the dead to talk to.
Everyone I've ever loved is gone.

- How can you s-say that?
- Oh, you know I didn't mean you.

I know that I...

spent my entire childhood
in this house without love.

You had a loving mother
and a loving father.

How can you say that?

I know that watching Mathias sleeping
I could see his father's face, and...

- some part of me wanted him dead.
- You can't mean that.

Why not? Why can't I mean that?
Why can't I mean that?

Because he's a person who is so sad.

Oh. So sad.

And defeated.

Like me.

- I would never say that.
- You'd never say that because you never see it!

Oh, how could a child
of yours be unhappy?

Oh, that would be unthinkable!

- You're not a child anymore, Chloé.
- I'm your child!

- Years and years ago!
- What does that mean?

It means that when you were 15,
you stopped being my child

and started being my daughter.

I have spent my whole life at your side.

- I have never left you.
- I never asked for that!

Look, it seems I've caused
nothing but unhappiness

in your life, and in Mathias's life.

So, what should I have done?

We know what I should not have done.

I should not have followed my heart.

I should not have stayed with your father
and made a home for my daughter.

All these...
All these things were wrong.

I'm 92. I've made nothing but mistakes.
So, you tell me. You tell me, Chloé.

What... What? You know so much.
You tell me what I should have done.

Is Mathias's father my father?

There's so much about him
that's like me. Just...

Just tell me the truth.

Is Mathias my brother?

I don't know.

I have never known.

What possible difference could it
have made knowing or not knowing?

Your father brought you up.
He loved you. You were his daughter.

Oh, Chloé.

Chloé.

Chloé?

Oh, Chloé.

You're the reason he hated me!

- Mathias?
- No!

My father, your husband!

He didn't hate you.

- You were his daughter. He loved you.
- There was no love! No love!

Perhaps that's why Mathias
and I detested each other.

Because somewhere deep inside,
we both knew the truth.

Why didn't you tell him the truth?

There is no other truth.

Do you know where I slept
last night, Mother?

I don't think the world will
come to an end because of that.

I see nothing catastrophic in the
two of you comforting each other.

No virtue in two of you being lonely.

That's sweet.

Insane, but sweet.

Well, you're certainly not going
to have children at your age.

No. You're certainly right, Mother.

I certainly can't have
children at my age.

It certainly stops with us.

People like Mathias and me we keep telling
ourselves that none of this matters, that...

childhood is just, a human invention.

It's not...

God's invention.
There's nothing natural about it...

and we should just let it all go.

But we can't...

because...

our pain tells us that we're cursed...

and so we go through life thinking...

Oh, my God!

I shot the pig.

- You shot the pig?
- I shot the pig!

You shot the pig. He shot the pig!

He shot the pig? What pig?

One of us had to go. It was him or me.

Listen. Last night,

after we stayed awake together...

and our souls clapped
their hands and sang,

we made a clean breast of it,
I was thinking about you saying...

"I'm not beautiful. I'm nearly old."
And I wished I had a better answer.

And I think I've thought of one,
so would you mind saying it again?

- What are you asking me?
- What you said yesterday when you said,

"I'm not beautiful. I'm nearly old."
Just could you say it again? Please?

I'm not beautiful. I'm nearly old?

A perfect flower is nearly old.

It's good, isn't it?

No. You hate it. No.

It's over the top, but I like it.

I like it too.

Talk to me, Mrs. G.

Well, I don't know what to say.

Well, try saying, "I'm sorry I lied."

Well, I am sorry I lied.

And I forgive you for selling my chairs.

Please, Mathias.

Don't leave. Please stay.

I don't know.

Negative. Not family.

- Not family?
- Not at all.

Merci beaucoup.

Hey! Monsieur Gold.

Lefebvre!

Would you like a glass of wine?

- You live on this thing?
- Yes, yes. I do.

It's like an old barge.

Exactly.

Oh! The blood of Paris! I get it.

Right. Come, come! I'll show you.

Watch out. Got it.

- Merci.
- That's my place.

My yard. My garden.

Come. I show you inside.

Pretty cool. Really nice.

Yeah. I...

I love it. Yeah. I bought it as
a viager many, many years ago.

And the person died?

Six days after we signed the contract.

- You're kidding?
- I was lucky.

It's a crazy system you've got here.

Betting like that on people dying.

It's a game of destiny.

If the person dies quickly,
it's your destiny to replace them.

And if they don't die quickly?

Then it's your destiny
to pay to help them live.

- I-Is Chloé here?
- Oh, no. She'll be here soon.

I'm going to stay. But don't tell Chloé.
I want to tell her myself.

Oh, I'm... I'm so pleased.

You need never worry about money.

You'll soon be able to sell
this apartment as a viager.

You won't get full value
because you're both still quite young,

but you'll always have
a roof over your heads.

Oh, Mathias?

This is yours.

I gave it to your father,
but he wanted you to have it.

Thank you.

Where are my father's ashes?

You did a good thing
sending me here, Max.

Thank you.

On a scale of one to a 100,
you've just gone from a one to a three.

I have the check.

We're not selling.

- I'm sorry?
- It's a family thing.

You understand.

Wh-Where did you study English?

I never studied English.

I learned it from
watching American movies.

"Frankly, my dear,
I don't give you a damn."

- Oh. Yeah. Clark Gable.
- Right.

I'd know that anywhere.