All language subtitles for Paparazzi by Jacques Rozier.eng

Short film directed by Jacques Rozier
in 1963

during the filming of the feature
LE MEPRIS.

Digitized in 4K and restored in 2K

from the origin a I image negative
and sound negative by Hiventy

with the support of the CNC.

You arrived in Capri at 5:00
in the evening on May 17, 1963.

You were in Capri to film
the exteriors for Contempt,

Jean-Luc Godard's film adaption
of a novel by Alberto Moravia.

In Capri at the same time
and for the same reason were

Fritz Lang,

Jack Palance,

Michel Piccoli

and Giorgia Moll.

Each morning, you'd go to an isolated
spot on the southeast tip of the island.

There stands a villa that once belonged
to the Italian author Curzio Malaparte,

where the last part of Contempt
was to be shot.

On the terrace...

indoors...

Orin the immediate surroundings.

Built on a rocky promontory,

the villa was an ideal work setting.

One path led
from the village of Capri,

but access by sea was easier.

It was practically impossible to approach
without permission from the production.

Soldiers under the direction
of Commander Ventrone

patrolled the surrounding area.

The only chance for the curious
was to approach by sea,

or to observe from a distance
with binoculars.

Brigitte Bardot is the most
photographed woman in the world.

Brigitte Bardot is the most
photographed woman in the world.

And if the most photographed woman
in the world comes to your neighborhood,

you and your family
simply must go and meet her.

Kindly keep your distance.

Please.

We're working here.

Bye, beautiful!

Once again from the top, please.

Naples, May 17.

Half an hour before sailing for Capri.
The ship's not yet at the dock.

Brigitte's in the car
and would like to get out.

Everyone takes pictures of the Eiffel Tower
and the Arc de Triomphe,

and everyone takes pictures
of Brigitte Bardot.

Why this camera mania?

It's not just "BB" the actress
that fascinates the crowds,

but "BB" in real life.

"BB" works as well in a newspaper head line
as on a movie marquis,

and for some years now,

Brigitte Bardot
has played nonstop the role of..

Because the public asks it of her,
Brigitte kindly plays the part.

She opens her door
and invites you in.

Well-mannered people know to leave
when the moment has come.

There's a certain kind of press
that has no manners,

that will peek through the keyhole
of a locked door

and tell what they see,
even if they see nothing.

They'll print pictures that say
just what they want them to say.

The important thing
is to get the picture.

In Italy all this has given rise
to the strange characters called:

May 20, the Villa Malaparte.

Godard finishes setting up
the next shot.

You relax and lie in the sun.

The sound engineer horses around.

We'll rehearse in a moment.

Places, everyone.

Godard comes to get you.

In this shot, Michel Piccoli,
playing your husband.

Why do you despise me?
Tell me or I'll hurt you.

Why hurt me on top of it?

You decide to get revenge.

Jicky Dussart, the photographer
on the shoot, captures this moment...

as well as the next,
in which Michel Piccoli,

seeking forgiveness,
helps you up the steps.

But that May afternoon, Jicky's camera
was not the only one in action.

These hastily snapped photos
are of poor quality.

Nevertheless, certain newspapers
will find them precious documents,

or perhaps just profitable.

You'd like to have the right,
like everyone else,

to lower your head
when descending the stairs

so as to avoid missing a step.

But if a telephoto lens is hidden
behind rocks 100 feet away,

just the act of lowering your head
can take on weighty significance.

For in the language
of certain reporters,

I owe ring your head
takes on a different meaning.

Brigitte comes out of hiding

The newspaper in question
considers it unimportant to mention

that the picture was taken
at the Villa Malaparte in Italy.

Yet that's where it was taken,
on May 29 at 4:00 p.m.,

by photographers
you felt no need to flee from

because you never even saw them,

and you never saw them
because they were hidden.

They'd been following Brigitte
since filming began in Rome.

She arrived in Capri on May 17.
They in turn arrived on the 18th.

Look at the beautiful girls in Capri!

They came here with a purpose,
these were no amateurs

and answered to the names of..

Lucciano.

Claudio Valente,
of Valente Photo Agency.

Paolo.

The paparazzi's tools of the trade:

a 300 mm telephoto lens,
with a 3.5 aperture,

which can get a full-body shot
from 150 feet away.

A Vespa.

A pair of legs.

Endurance.

A flash.

Their secret weapons:
patience and stubbornness.

Tuesday, May 21, 10:00 a.m.

You board the boat
for the Villa Malaparte.

They are there.

At 10:30 the same day,
you arrive at the villa.

Jean-Luc!

They are there.

Thursday, May 23, 5:00 p.m.

You set out to go water-skiing.

They are there.

Friday, May 24, 3:00 p.m.

You listen to Godard's instructions.
So do they.

You shout "Camille" here.

Once Brigitte has gone over there,

you count to five,

and then you go.

Saturday, May 25. The day began badly.
Everyone is tense.

Those paparazzi
have been there all day.

No one can stand
this constant surveillance.

Godard least of all,

and he'll tell them so himself

Brigadier Ventrone
follows behind and translates.

Furious at being driven off, Claudio,
Lucciano and Paolo decide

they'll get the definitive picture
of Bardot that night,

no matter what it takes.

The clash takes place outside
the restaurant where you've had dinner.

They insult people in the street,
me in particular.

The people with me are forced to react.

That's when they file charges

saying we attacked and beat them.

The poor souls!

The next morning they report
they were beaten up

to the local correspondents
for Il Tempo, Il Mattino,

and Il Messaggero di Roma.

The next day those papers
run articles...

Bardot's Fiancé Attacks Photographer

...unflattering to Brigitte.

Why that article in the paper?

Because you're not kind to us.

We were very upset, Brigitte,

and we wanted to let the public
know what you are.

Why don't you ever let us take pictures?

We're not interested in taking photos
like that of Brigitte Bardot.

In the evening

after work, we have
to go off on the Vespa

in search of Brigitte Bardot.

In the morning,
still tired, we get up quickly.

We have to stay
at our observation post.

All day long.

Sunshine

or storms.

We have to eat a sandwich.

And just at that moment,

there's Bardot.

We're about to shoot!

What's the best shot of Bardot for you?

A bathing suit.

A bikini. Those are great pictures
for the weeklies.

I'm sure if we could get a picture
of her with the little dog,

Il Tempo, Il Settimo Giorno, l'Europeo
would print it right away.

But that's impossible.

She's always surrounded by police

and soldiers.

They stop us.

At the very moment,

we're about to get a picture.

Of course,

all this in spite of our sincere efforts
to convince the soldiers

that we need to eat every day!

We're not lucky enough
to have Jicky Dussart's job,

the photographer
on Bardot's production.

He can do anything he wants.

He can work completely at ease,

in a relaxed and casual way.

Artfully, simply

and elegantly.

While we, poor unfortunates,

are forced to work in the rocks,

at the risk of injury,

in the blazing sunshine

amongst the thorns.

And we get yelled at
by our press agency to boot!

The only thing that bothers us

is having someone among us
who doesn't take it seriously.

First he cuts the name "La Stampa"
out of the paper and puts it on his hat.

Then he draws everyone's attention
to his hand that's in a cast.

It makes a terrible impression.

It's very hard to believe,

but he broke his neck
in April on the Via Veneto.

He slipped on a banana peel.

It's his temperament.
We can't stop him.

In the morning,
it's impossible to wake him.

It's impossible to work this way.

Given that it's an important person.

We're the unlucky ones,

the least respected.

The police, who are paid
by the production company,

prefer to protect Brigitte Bardot

rather than us.

We were hoping for a lot more.

At a certain point,
you can't work that way anymore.

Climbing up mountains to take pictures

with a telephoto lens
from 600 feet away.

To think that to get a picture
with a telephoto lens,

we risk falling to our death
from a cliff.

We're not interested.

We're not interested.

What would make us happy

would be to take a really good photo,
a close up of Brigitte Bardot.

But it's impossible.

So, in the laboratory,

they have to use the enlarger

to get something.

And obviously,
we get bawled out again.

Is this the last time
you'll ever take pictures of Bardot?

You'd try again
if she came back to Italy?

Yes.

You see.

THE END