Love...
They're all here.
I nearly didn't make it... I only got the invitation Thursday.
We had to alter our plans.
We must be in Siberia!
No, madame, it's the Ardennes Forest.
Jean!
Yes, ma'am.
Is she dead?
It was before that. In the 80s...
He has no sense of direction.
Unfortunate, for a chauffeur!
Well, Forbek,
here we are.
Thanks for coming!
Raoul, my friend!
Livia! Come!
- May I, sir? - No.
My friends,
for you are all old, dear friends.
Wether we were school mates,
or met in some distant land,
over the years, we've traded ideas and plans.
I know some of yours.
You all know the one I've always cherished.
that dream, thanks to a stroke of fate,
the death of a loved one,
can now come true, right here!
I bought the land, the woods around it.
Work will begin in a month.
Our friend Patinier did the plans.
What do you mean?
Is it a castle, a palace?
A palace... a castle...
A castle? More like a temple...
the temple of happiness...
Livia...
My friend.
Since you'll be its priestess,
you do it.
Model for Michel Forbek.
This will be your home as well as mine.
When it's finished, we'll meet for a huge party,
and we'll celebrate my marriage to my chosen,
my beloved fiancée, Livia!
Saturday, January 3, 1914.
Come back soon!
Be good.
Good-bye.
You're sure this isn't too fast? Because...
Don't worry, Miss Rousseau. Besides, we're there.
So that's it.
I'm told Mrs. Holberg's method is interesting.
It's... different,
a modern idea. The kids don't do any work.
One pays, too... And through the nose...
It's not for our kids.
Will you teach here?
No, it's a private school. I'm a public-school teacher.
We're taking part in a sort of conference on education.
I'm taking advantage of the All Saints holiday.
Old-timers still call it the castle, as they did 60 years ago.
It never got finished!
They began it before 1914,
then the war came, and they ran out of money,
and that's how it was left.
My dad knew the guy who built it:
a foreigner... Peruvian, Yugoslav, I don't know.
He had mines... Gold, oil, diamonds, I never knew.
Lots of people came to see it,
socialites, magnificent women: Don't see that kind any more.
Then he left. The place was deserted.
In 36, it was a youth hostel. The Gestapo had it during the war.
Now it's Mrs. Holberg's school.
I'd like to give this conference a tone...
My dear Elizabeth!
Georges!
How's your mother?
We're waiting for the lab results.
Come meet some of our friends.
Robert Dufresne, our guardian angel.
He arranged for us to have our seminar
in this remarkable building,
typical of early 20th century symbolist architecture.
Elizabeth Rousseau,
a teacher whose ideas will surprise you.
Welcome to "lmagination of Education"...
Oops! Reverse that.
He likes to horse around.
Rev. Jean Watelet.
Father...
Call me Jean.
We need a hand here.
Well, Robert!
Light as a feather. Your toilet articles?
Jean! Watch out for your back!
Careful! Not so high!
Easy does it. Be careful!
Mr. Dufresne!
Must I remind you of the agreement?
You can't bring "that" into the castle.
Dear Mrs. Holberg...
Ladies, gentlemen, young folk,
sorry to seem inhospitable.
But does liberty consist
in ignoring our rights and duties?
This needed saying. Now I've said it.
There remains the more agreable task
of bidding you welcome.
Mrs. Holberg, who heads our school.
We must understand each other. Our methods may differ.
We've a common aim:
to turn children into men worthy of the name,
a new breed who may make this world "of sound and fury"
into one of beauty, harmony, love.
Where do we put it?
Leave it outside!
You can't do that.
In the dining hall? The conservatory?
Miss Obertin, stay out of this.
It's between the conference and the school.
You teach here.
So I'm attending the conference.
That's only one of your duties.
You're minding the children staying on over the holiday. Well, do it!
There are only 3. I can...
I'm tired of having to repeat this:
true liberty...
It's Walter Guarini!
It's Guarini!
Walter Guarini...
Georges Leroux?
You're like your writing.
My letters were typed.
I meant, you're like your letter-writing style.
What trash!
How's that?
Is that thing edible?
Can you eat it?
What?
It's not architecture, it's pastry.
Thanks for coming. I'm very happy.
I was determinated to have you here.
You confer a wider scope on our conference:
interdisciplinary... and international.
I haven't received my check yet.
Where's Nora? Not here yet?
Nora Winkle? She'll be here soon.
Fine.
Dear friends, let us be proud.
We have with us the man
who may change people by changing their cities.
Mrs. Holberg, who devised the Holberg method.
Welcome to Holberg!
Hans Siegfried Holberg! I envy you for having known that great man,
but I envy him more because you were his wife.
- What now? - Careful! I'm letting go.
Don't fool around.
Go on, don't just stand there.
Back to work! Inside you go! I'll be right with you.
Careful, children! Cross in front.
Mrs. Holberg... Natalie. See? I even know your first name.
- Excuse me. - Of course.
Thanks, sir. I'm very grateful.
5 years ago, I thought I'd marry
on the day I opened this house.
Men's folly dictated otherwise.
How many of those who worked on my project are still alive?
How many died atrociously?
First, the architect,
Patinier, killed in the battle of Charleroi.
Laferrière, killed on the Somme. Marquet, Grumbert...
Trévoux, killed in '17 at Salonika.
Empires have fallen, fortunes, including mine, dwindled.
The woman I was to marry wed another.
I've traveled... a lot.
I almost dropped the project 100 times.
It still isn't finished.
But it is urgent to consecrate this temple of happiness.
A new kind of happiness!
A new happiness?
Then it's a celebration.
More like an... experiment.
Perhaps we should say, a journey.
Although we won't leave here.
This is going to be fun.
If the palace isn't finished, why not postpone things?
To when the paint is dry?
I could wait no longer.
You were wounded in the war? So was l.
My soul was deeply wounded.
I waited, and waited.
I tried to still my pain, but I can't stand it any more.
I know I'm not the only one.
That's why I chose you,
because you're my friends. I know you.
Aren't we all wounded animals,
locking our teeth to keep from howling?
Four years of suffering made us murderers.
Of all the ties that bind us,
isn't this the strongest?
What does he want?
It's a game... He's having fun...
We must laugh...
And harmony?
Harmony...
Does harmony reign among us?
Not at all.
Harmony has fled from this world forever.
Nothing and no one are in their proper place.
That's why we're all unhappy.
Failure, betrayal,
lost illusions,
unfulfilled desires, plans awry.
One man may be fooled into thinking his wife loves him.
She's sought by another, but loves a third.
Isn't that so, Jeannetier?
One is indecently rich:
Not so, Garcin?
Another is indecently poor.
Ashamed, one hides his wealth,
the other his poverty. Right, Zimmerman?
One mother here hates her children, and it pains her.
A son wishes his mother dead, and it pains him.
A doctor is pained by his incompetence.
You all suffer, you weep, all of you.
Enough! Enough!
My coat! My car! My hat! We're going!
I'm leaving! My car! my coat! My hat!
I'll hold no one here.
For this experiment, I'll need your total submission,
your absolute trust.
So leave, go quickly!
If you stay,
you'll be here for many weeks,
cut off from the outside
like a caterpillar in a cocoon, walled in,
doors, windows so shut no light can enter, no visitors.
Your souls
and minds must be sealed off too,
until you are born again
the day of your rebirth.
We'll remake human understanding,
shame 30 centuries of idiocy and disorder,
bring harmony to this and future generations,
restore the harmony we've lost.
But you, Livia?
Me? I'm happy.
Are you sure?
Why are you staying?
We're your friends.
If you stay...
Close up! Doors, windows, everything.
Hi, children. Is Forbek Castle far from here?
The school...
Holberg lnstitute, the Academy, if you prefer.
It's not far: straight ahead, then left.
Thanks. You're very sweet.
- What'd she say? - You put your head in garbage.
It's a dodgem hat to use on our enemies.
Show her, Frederic.
Our enemies, the shit makers who shit all over,
who bug us, break our things, trip us.
Who eat the cake and leave us the soup.
The bad kings who kill, and the thieves,
those who burn houses, and make us cry.
Vermin gnaws the earth...
Everything is dirty and smells bad...
It rains all the time
Some people eat cake,
and most of us eat soup,
made of nettles and noodles...
Honest folk are in jail, they're tortured,
and robbed, children are killed,
and murderers are rich and powerful,
and rule the kingdom...
lt is dark, and all that's heard
is the rain falling and the poor folk weeping...
But your day has come, it will all change...
Go, now you are big, you are strong.
Restore justice, happiness and harmony.
Take the money the rich man stole,
and give it to the poor, for you're the true king...
Then there will be no more dust or dirt...
Then everyone will eat cake every day...
We'll never be cold, or have toothaches...
No one will fall down and people will live 100 years...
Go!
The age of happiness is beginning...
But a city of all possible happiness.
We must teach children to imagine that city.
And, first, to build schools that move:
Mobile, shifting, undisciplined,
from which children can take off.
Not to conquer the world as it is,
but to build... to invent...
a new world that is what it should be.
These schools of the future
should not be knowledge factories,
but workshops of creativity.
As Giuseppe Verdi said:
Copying what's true may be good,
but inventing it is far better.
Your turn, Father.
First of all,
I'd like to remark to Guarini
that to me the Verdi quotation is meaningless.
Jean, forget Verdi and introduce yourself...
to those who know you only by reputation.
Jean Watelet is a Catholic priest
and he's against all schools.
Juliette Watelet, the priest's sister.
I believe in computers, not in God.
I also believe in schools.
I'll show you how computers...
When will you show me your true face?
I don't understand, Mr. Guarini. Which face?
Call me Walter.
Not true!
You can't reach the real world via a computer terminal.
The face of a girl who will show me a real smile.
I smile.
Yes, all the time. Far too much.
At everyone, and no one in particular.
You only have 2 eyes,
blind to infrared or ultraviolet.
My class doesn't need computers.
I teach a kindergarten class.
I let a child live his life.
You don't exhort a rose to bloom.
Words and ideas grow like teeth.
My teeth ache.
No roses without a gardener.
I see we agree on a common goal:
developing the faculties
and happiness of our children.
Bravo!
lnstead of mocking us, introduce yourself:
Robert Dufresne, our secretary-treasurer,
a specialist in children's games
and their role in developing intelligence.
The Jesus child...
Bravo, Robert!
You have perfectly conveyed
the substance of your work.
It might be shocking, but I find it very original,
very modern. Yes, modern.
So you think that's modern.
Well, I don't! Not at all.
I'm not arguing with it. I approve, I cheer it.
It's a return to the source of the imaginary,
to a tribal culture.
Culture needs language.
I don't mean to skip language,
but what's needed...
Nora Winkle is with us.
She dared masquerade as a man,
and work in minus-81 degree temperature
in Canada
to write the revolutionary report:
"The Sexual Fantasies of James Bay Workmen".
Thanks,
and good morning.
Delighted.
I left my daughter in the garbage.
Follow me. It's this way.
- Who was that? - Queen Shitface and her army.
It's forbidden to look at her... Or soldiers bury you up to your neck,
and put out your eyes with a teaspoon.
Come on. We can go now.
It's a castle. But don't tell anyone.
It was built 100 000 years ago by a bloodthirsty king.
Didn't we meet at Forbek's?
No matter. In a few moments, we'll forget everything,
as if we'd never existed.
Never existed? That's hard to imagine...
But we'll be reborn, my friends!
Thank you, friends.
By changing clothes,
you've cast off part of your old selves.
A potion prepared by Thi-Lan will be passed around.
It's made of drugs unknown in Europe.
You'll go into a sleep of forgetfulness.
You won't know who you are... You'll all be equal,
like a child in its mother's womb.
And when you wake up, you'll rediscover, in all their freshness,
the sensations of a newborn babe...
We'll make sure they give you only pleasure,
and well being,
and are not, as in your previous birth,
a source of pain,
of being torn...
Soon you'll be aware of yourselves again.
But you'll be a new person,
pure, spotless,
ready to meet others,
who are just as pure and new...
A question.
Go right ahead.
What's the point of all these conventions, symposiums...
Good point!
Take the Third World:
14 000 conferences a year ! And the people are starving!
Any Statistics?
Let's have a conference on conferences.
The important thing about conferences
for men is no wives.
And for women, no husbands... Adventure.
The extra-marital kind!
All cultural and scientific meeting are
an excuse for the same old thing.
Getting laid!
I drink to sexo-cultural exchanges.
To cultural ass-ociates.
Come in.
Want to visit Nora?
Let's help her move in... So you get to meet her.
Something wrong?
I have to change.
- You look fine. - Think so? Nora...
Nora Winkle? I had her as a teacher in the states.
One day she gave her class in pyjamas.
Gentlemen, please be quiet.
There are children and elderly people who need sleep.
Be more respectful of yourselves and of others.
Good night.
Sit down. Don't stand there.
Is it always like this?
What?
Conferences... seminars...
It's my first time.
Those ludicrous introductions...
That bull-session in the next room.
The things I heard!
That's "men only" for you.
They talk a lot of crap and empty a few bottles.
A tribal reflex... Which we'll share in, too.
If you'll sit down.
You call that normal?
I'm no moralist. I'm an anthropologist.
Was Walter there?
Of course!
I think our friend interests him.
That old lecher. It figures!
I'm amazed that an architect like Walter Guarini would indulge
in the questionable humor I just heard.
Genius doesn't exclude vulgarity.
I'd say it's part of it.
No one knows Guarini better than you.
I read a fine book on him.
His ideas on classrooms.
He's a great cook. As a lover,
he's not as good as he claims.
But I don't like men who are too expert at love. Know what I mean?
No one takes anything seriously here.
Mr. Leroux, whom I respect, and who organized this conference,
invited Walter Guarini because Guarini is someone.
He's not a clown... like that guy making faces.
That guy is my pal Robert.
He's the organizer.
Doesn't matter. You're all alike.
My colleagues are the same, always making fun.
We have a job to do.
Robert's not like that.
A wonderful job!
We form men, we build, we create man with
devotion... and love... All our love.
"Love"... is that word funny?
All big words make me laugh.
I may know such and such a man.
But "men", man in general, what does it mean?
And love?
What is "love"?
Love isn't just "getting laid".
People have "feelings".
I believe in romantic love.
I believe
in love
The love
of married couples
The love of lovers
I believe in meetings
in the union of the people
who were meant for each other
Who had always
looked for each other
and finally found each other
And then never again
Never parted again
Never again
I believe
in love
ln people who wait for each other
Who finally find each other
And then never part again
Never again
"Love"...
"Forever"... "never again"...
Romantic love, my dear,
is culturally quite recent.
It's probably Arabian in origin
and like all cultural phenomena,
has a specific biological function,
in this case, the survival of our species.
Blinded by romantic illusions,
you can "lay", as you say, some absolutely "unlayable" people.
It can strike you suddenly, and be gone as fast.
Depending on the circumstances, the lighting, the packaging.
like in a supermarket:
why favor one brand of detergent or soap over another?
The man I'll fall in love with
Isn't a bar of soap.
He is gentle and strong
Gentle and strong
I've known him
I've always known him
I always have
I've always known him
Just like a baby.
Shall we put her to bed?
Yes, let's.
Poor dear.
"I wish you passionate love".
You? You believe in true love?
I have a soft spot
for those who do.
Elizabeth is a real case.
An interesting one.
Want to bet?
With me?
With me, with you, with us.
Of all the guys here,
who's the biggest jerk?
The kindergarten teacher?
Your clown!
Robert?
I bet that before the conference is over,
Elizabeth falls madly in love with your Robert.
If we help a little...
To prove what?
That the word "love" is plural.
Poor Elizabeth!
Or poor Robert?
Go ahead and try. I'm sure it won't work.
I'm sure it will.
It's all for her own good.
We're opening her eyes to make her happy.
Hap-py!
The world is an orchestra and we're its musicians.
So far we've all been assigned the wrong score to play.
So the world has been one loud dissonance.
But now we'll be reborn, others will follow.
Our dreams will come true, our desires will be fulfilled,
one's pleasure will be everyone's pleasure.
Instead of dissonance,
we'll hear wonderful symphonies.
With you as their conductor!
Listen!
The concert is beginning.
The birth of a new world.
First taste...
Then smell, touch, hearing...
Finally sight...
The five gates to pleasure.
Everyone has been assigned a perfume.
Listen!
They're groaning with pleasure.
Only happy people can build a harmonious city.
The city of happiness!
Don't waste bread!
Millions of little children starve for lack of bread.
That's not true.
It is.
If Claudine says so, it's true.
Why?
She's grown up and you're little.
Walter has a one-track mind.
I make love to a guy who only talks of love
to girls he doesn't make love to!
I like to be surprised and you surprise me.
Teaching in that field
hasn't changed since the 1900's,
and is blatantly outdated now.
Not eating?
I hate cold food.
I spotted a roadside pizza parlor.
I'm heading there later.
May I?
Go ahead.
You surprise me more and more.
Follow me!
Imagination needs no palace!
It flowers in dungeons.
Look at St. Theresa of Lisieux or Sade...
What it needs is more spare time.
Time to dream!
They're saying interesting things.
Some things in life are...
far more interesting than "interesting things".
lmagination is all very well.
Depends on how it's used.
The daydreams of a 3 years old are of no interest.
Except to a psychoanalyst.
No, the brain's associative powers must be directed
towards practical ends. Not to idle dreaming.
Use the imagination. But to solve real problems!
I'm a teacher: children are sacred! You scorn them!
Your classroom must turn out bums and hoodlums!
Cop! You're just a cop!
Here's our chance.
Your chance!
What a pair: you turn out hoodlums, he reforms them.
Cut it out!
Instead of talking toy, help Frederic.
They say Miss Rousseau is brutal with kids.
Why did you do it?
I don't know, ma'am.
Call me Elizabeth.
I'm your friend. I won't scold you.
Why did you throw that tomato?
Think hard...
Try and explain...
Because it was fun.
Listen, old man.
Next time ask me for permission, OK?
He's your son?
I admire your professional reflexes.
You went right after the criminal.
Aren't you ever serious?
"Serious"? Meaning what?
Earlier you said something that struck me:
that people needed more time.
Time to dream.
I said that?
When you stopped clowning.
You mean when I started clowning...
But aren't all the arts the fruit of what you call "day-dreams"?
Aren't they as essential to a child
as fresh air?
Art isn't as essentiel as oppressed minorities!
Or starvation!
That's not it!
- Where do I put the leftover beer? - In a box. At the side of the road.
It's working.
Come.
It's to spite me!
You know I always hated music.
They'll hear no other sound
but the sweetest of music.
Shut up!
It's your mother! She's nagging me from the hereafter!
Your mother!
Excellent.
Belgian pizza. At home, they now serve Italian french fries.
Cultural exchanges.
Cultural imperialism... Italian-style.
No country is safe from it.
The infectious Gioconda smile.
Hasn't everyone prayed before a Raphael madonna?
Go to the opera? It's in Italian.
The Russian drive Fiat cars.
The whole world eats spaghetti!
Anglo-saxon cultural imperialism? It's a joke.
Think about it.
Sinatra, Capone, Minelli, Sacco and Vanzetti, Coppola. All Italians.
And Shakespeare?
"Othello", "Romeo", "The merchant of Venice".
All Italian stories.
I love Italy.
You understand Italian?
I've read Stendhal...
You don't really trust me.
Yet you came with me.
I love Italy... and I was very hungry.
You want my share?
There's something sad about you.
Why do you say that?
You never stop eating.
Is it anxiety?
Sorry, I'm being silly.
I'm always ravenous.
It's true.
Right now I've got personal problems.
Maybe I'm aiming too high.
It's ridiculous.
It's crazy: I trust you and I know I shoudn't.
I've always avoided men like you.
If you think I'm worthy of your trust...
My mother has a "serious illness".
My father just left her.
I just broke up with my fiancé.
Or rather, he broke it off.
Fiancé?
You were engaged?
Do people still do that in 1982?
We were engaged 3 years.
We'd picked an apartment... bought the furniture.
He dropped me.
I've drunk too much.
It's the wine...
Listen to me.
What if I offered
to marry you... right away.
In 2 weeks we'll leave for Italy, the country you love.
How can you?
I can't believe it.
It's true.
Some things one shouldn't say...
Darling, what a surprise!
I told you: Walter loves Belgian pizza.
California bordeaux, Italian french fries...
And American gothic!
He's dead.
Don't tell me who it was.
Poor child!
Yes, child.
To me he's a stillborn child.
Thousands die like that.
Such accidents can't stop human progress.
Tell that to the police.
First, happiness for a select few...
Then happiness for all. Harmony regained!
Harmony: simple to find.
In death!
In love, father.
Open all doors. Bring up the cars!
Free these people!
Don't move.
You're no one here. I'll send you back to the old age home!
Shut up!
We're carrying on.
I can't stand your silly speeches.
I put up with yours all through my childhood.
The people you hate, that you despise...
I love them.
You're for their happiness?
Some of them don't want it!
They drank the potion...
Some didn't: I saw at least one.
Who?
No matter.
We're carrying on!
We're carrying on.
CONFERENCE HALL
My pupils
in my rural school,
conceived and built this model... with me.
Every day they added to it.
the boys worked with the girls.
The juniors with the seniors.
I wish they were all here tonight,
so we could explain what we tried to make,
a tool for learning, for developing the imagination.
Plain, plateau, hill, mountain,
Lake, glacier, valley, river,
Stream, big river, sea, gulf,
Bay, cape, island,
Archipelago, isthmus, peninsula,
Swamp, desert, forest,
Volcano!
With this object, conceived and built by the children,
every subject can be taught:
geology, ecology, history and culture.
Man comes out of the woods, takes up farming,
tames animals, stocks food...
Builds houses...
To defend his property, he erects forts,
fights his neighbors...
Explores the ocean...
mines iron and coal...
Factories rise,
and more and more houses
More and more houses
He learns to count: his sheep, his houses
To weigh his wealth, his grain, to measure his fields
Mathe-ma-tics!
To name the things he sees, owns, feels
Lin-guis-tic:
All things have a name, a number, a meaning
Men, women, dreams of love and happiness
He loves, builds, learns:
Love, progress, happiness
It's lovely.
Ingenious.
Really good.
A bit too sweeping.
We're so proud of you.
On behalf of all our friends, let me
express our admiration and gratitude.
It has size, beauty, and enterprise.
Look at the trees,
cows, sheep.
It's lovely.
Admirable. I'm 100% for it.
I told Miss Rousseau how highly I think of her.
But one can take it even further.
You have a new disciple.
Get children involved in the future.
Let them collaborate on this model of a living city,
gentle and unpredictable as a woman,
flexible as a snake,
scaly and hairy, the city of our dreams.
True. I fear
she has deviated from our working premise.
I didn't mean that.
But you said it!
I agree.
All this attention to detail
won't develop a child's imagination, it will stifle it.
Forever after, when they say "mountain",
what'll they see? Miss Rousseau's mountain.
Their imaginations will be blocked.
- I never said that. - You did.
You're right to criticize...
Miss Rousseau for showing what is, and not what should be.
Certainly not.
Elizabeth is thrilled by your interest in her method.
Your method is dangerously neutral politically.
Not a true view, hence confusing.
Don't give us that!
No, it's a nice toy, but of no educational value.
- It's a circus act! - A gag.
It's just a hoax.
Don't distort my point.
Friends.
There's truth in what you say.
But let's think straight.
Who are we trying to reach? Children.
What is a child? The son of man...
What is man?
Good question.
Is he good? Is he evil?
Dumb question.
We're miles off course!
We must start from scratch!
You said it!
I'll say it again.
Let's go to bed.
Man, or what we call man...
Civilized man, is the exploiter exploited!
Abolish exploitation, and you abolish man!
Man, child, they're all bastards.
I'm a bastard, you're a bastard, he's a bastard.
You enjoy calling us bastards!
Yes, because I'm a bastard.
I'm leaving... I'm off.
Don't leave, friends.
You won't give democratic debate a chance.
Friends.
I'm going away.
No, count me out.
I've had enough.
Friends.
You're just a pain. You're out of skulls.
Friends!
Asshole! Old fart! Turface!
Shit!
I'm too old!
I can't stand shouting!
Bastard!
We're taking off, too. Yes, we are!
No, don't leave! Wait!
We can't settle for surface unanimity!
It takes more than that.
It's a tragedy.
Courage! We're with you.
Enough claptrap, priest! We need action.
We must find the evil, excise it.
Yes, cut to the heart.
You shut up there.
Your libertarian drivel may be to blame, Bertin.
Or yours, Guarini.
Why did I invite a Utopian?
Heraclitus called human thought child's play.
I'll keep you informed.
Sure. Ciao.
Let's try to make sense.
You're right.
Dissonance has replaced harmony.
Shouldn't have let a scientific meeting
degenerate into a handicrafts session.
That's right, Miss Rousseau!
Turn all that off.
You must have something to tell us.
Don't leave, please.
- You're silent. - Exasperating!
Talk, damn it!
How do you see it?
Speak fearlessly.
Speak, then.
I gather I'm under arrest.
Did I hear correctly? "Arrest"?
Are you calling us cops?
Friends, he says educators are cops.
You're to give your talk tomorrow.
I'll thank you to let me see it first.
I planned to improvise.
That's provocation.
Robert, I order you to stay.
He excluded himself.
Now what do we do?
We carry on.
He's dreamed of this conference for months. Right, Claudine.
I don't know. Maybe.
It's true.
What he did for you was unheard-of.
What'd he do?
He didn't say a word.
Be quiet! You don't know anything.
You didn't watch him.
That mute admiration
for your work, that he bravely showed,
that's what turned the others against him.
Think so?
You should go and thank him.
Saboteur!
I came to thank you.
And to apologize. It's all my fault.
Thank me?
I don't understand.
Come on in.
Your support for me got you into trouble.
It's I who should apologize.
I shouldn't have let them open their mouths.
No, you were fine.
They were right to criticize me.
I'm not sure I'm cut out for this work.
No.
I'm the one
who can't do it.
What am I supposed to teach kids?
When you're small, you have to believe what adults say.
Maybe it's not all useless.
But this need to believe
is like a drug. You get hooked.
Then when you grow up,
you cling to beliefs that the facts contradict.
So what should I teach my students?
To disbelieve what I teach them?
Then they won't study.
Now I'm getting serious.
I have no calling.
Your son is very nice.
You married?
I was. Twice.
That's enough.
I shouldn't be here this late.
But it's about a serious matter.
I heard of your pranks!
Mr. Leroux told me of your outrageous behavior.
The parents of our students are bound to find out.
So to head off the storm,
I'll have to let you go.
I deeply regret it.
You're young, in love... Love can make us lose our heads.
But there are limits!
To make a fool of oneself over a map.
Just as well. I've decided to quit teaching.
I want to make people laugh.
Anything: juggle, clown...
Comic...
Don't leave us.
Stay here.
I beg you.
Do anything you want... But don't leave.
Stay.
Don't abandon us.
We need you.
We do... I'm so ashamed.
Love! Love!
Happiness! Happiness!
Come in.
At last!
You've made up your mind.
Love!
Happiness! Love!
Raoul!
Where is Raoul?
Who is Raoul?
Your friend... mine.
I want to see him.
He no longer exists.
Those you knew are changed.
They're brand new.
You couldn't recognize them.
I want to see him.
Come!
Raoul, my friend.
So you won't taste the happiness I offered you.
What happiness?
You think he wanted your happiness?
He was happy.
When you were happy, did you think of me?
Of me, your unhappy friend?
Happiness isn't built on others misery.
My happiness is seeing everyone happy.
I don't want everyone's happiness.
Then why did you stay?
It was because you were unhappy.
I don't want to be happy.
You stayed because your marriage was a lie.
I loved him.
You married him.
He was leaving for the war, perhaps never to return.
Maybe you hoped he wouldn't return, but he did.
It's true. I no longer loved him.
I gave you both a chance,
but you had to play the game without cheating.
I want to love.
I want fire, I want ice.
I refuse the tepid sweetness you would plunge us into.
You won't understand: happiness is a burning flash,
that obliterates us.
You're just a child, Michel.
You hasn't the right to stay,
you spied on me,
to ruin my work. You killed Raoul.
It's your fault!
You're my worst enemy.
It's you.
You killed him.
Don't touch me.
Have pity!
Happiness!
Liberty...
Happiness... love...
Wake up.
Livia!
Love!
Wake up!
Don't stand there, kids.
Morning.
Morning, ma'am.
We must stay together, my friends.
We must preserve our unity.
Primary task.
We'll see each other, write letters... Unity,
that's the first priority.
- It's all clear now. - No more compromising!
- We must start over. - Sorry about last night.
Sure! Prophet of evil!
A temporary hitch.
I was a little nervous.
A new start, on new bases.
What for?
Have you seen Elizabeth?
Not since last night.
Are you leaving?
I'm quitting the Holberg School.
And Eliza...
I mean, Frederic.
He's going with me. With us.
Mrs. Winkle, how's Guarini?
I'm waiting for him now.
Miss Obertin,
where's nostro excellentissimo maestro Guarini?
Nora should know.
There he is now.
There's no more dust, no dirt
No hunchbacks, no cripples
No one's hungry any more, or cold
No one's teeth or stomach ache
The ground is smooth and soft to the step
All hearts overflow with love and friendship
The age of happiness is beginning
Love
Happiness, love
Oy, oy, oy, my bet!
I think I've lost it.
Twice over, in fact.
If you lost, then I won.
Thinking?
I think Napoleon was right:
Life is a fairy tale.
Kiss me.
I don't know what you've lost, but
I've the same feeling.
Mind your manners.
What can we do:
as my father said, life isn't a fairy tale.
Miss Obertin, the children!
Distant people, pay attention
Attention
Pay attention, please
This is the day, this is the hour
This is the minute. This is the end
This is the beginning
Unroll the carpets, tar over the cobblestones
It's here, it's come
It's love
Love's reign has begun
So she told dad, "Life isn't a fairy tale."
Life isn't a fairy tale?
What did she mean?
We'll know when we grow up.
When will I be grown?
When you're my age.
Then why don't you understand?
Because she isn't old enough.
Are you old enough?
No, since he doesn't understand.
Is daddy old enough?
No, since he didn't understand.