Zeus loved Leda, wife of the mortal Tyndareus, ninth king of Sparta.
He came to her disguised as a swan.
- Bye, Michel. See you tomorrow. - Goodbye, madame.
Thank you.
Part 1: "NORA"
My name is Nora Cotterelle. I'm 35.
I have a son from a first marriage: Elias.
After his father died, I chose not to have other children.
My son is 10. He's my whole life.
Claude...
Hello, I'm terribly late.
It's all right.
Found any wonders for us?
I have something...
A unique litho by Klee prior to printing.
- Mr Maden. - Our sunshine...
I manage an art gallery.
It's a pleasant job.
What will you show us?
Whatever you wish.
An engraving of Leda?
Yes, quite odd. Very different from the rest.
It's very nice.
Isn't it?
Where's it from?
Probably from a late 18th-century dig in Rome.
The engraving was coloured in pastel in the 19th century.
I'll take it, as a present.
For my father.
The rest to the gallery.
A year ago, I divorced my second husband, Ismaël.
I've since met Jean-Jacques, a businessman,
who loves me passionately
and very officially asked for my hand last week.
That's a grave decision at my age.
Jean-Jacques will wait by carriage three.
He's too sweet.
No one is "too sweet".
Hurry...
Just in time!
My PAs booked it.
Hello, Claude.
A car and driver will meet you.
Made any good buys?
Yes, thanks to Claude.
And a gift for Father.
Really?
It's silly
but I always dread seeing him. He can be so severe.
Say hi to Elias.
His room will be waiting for him.
Goodbye, Claude.
I've always thought that love means never having to ask.
My second husband claimed the contrary.
He wasn't very considerate.
When I complained, he would say...
- "Just ask." - Doing sculptures?
No, I was daydreaming. It's silly.
No, charming.
My little girl does that too.
Would you like coffee?
No, tea, please.
Father says being loved is never needing to ask.
And so I felt that Ismaël didn't love me.
I distanced myself
and then we split up.
And so last year I met Jean-Jacques
who strives to fulfil my every desire.
He's rich and that wasn't immaterial.
Mme Cotterelle?
But I try to ignore it.
- I don't need a driver. - Are you sure?
For six months, I refused to sleep with him.
He...
accepted that test calmly.
I concluded that he was serious.
I didn't want an affair.
That was the problem with my second husband.
Our relationship was more like...
an affair than a sound commitment.
Elias isn't too much trouble?
No, he's at the outdoor centre all day.
You're able to work anyway?
I don't work much these days.
He gets on well with the others.
I pick him up around five.
You're doing a new book?
No, just notes.
- What about? - Nothing.
About you, as usual.
Louis, let's get ready.
I brought this for you. Happy birthday.
I'd forgotten.
It's Leda and her swan.
I thought of you when I saw it.
After all, it's mythology and you teach Greek...
You should eat better.
- Do you ever go out to eat? - No.
That's why you have stomach pains.
You should eat real meals.
What's the matter?
There's blood in my stools.
I feel as if I'm losing bits of myself.
What?
It must be an ulcer.
I don't know.
I don't even dare to look.
You have an ulcer!
I'm so ashamed.
No... You can tell me.
It's been going on for a week now.
You've come?
Yes, I've come.
You're not looking at me?
I am, I'm looking at you.
Not going to kiss me?
Yes!
You're handsome!
You're so handsome!
You're all tanned. You've grown.
You fancy me?
Oh, yes, I fancy you.
Are you happy?
Absolutely.
I got your postcards.
I've kept them all.
They're on the fridge for the new house in Paris.
Did Granddad making you write annoy you?
No, I like writing to you.
See you.
See you, Elias.
Made any friends here?
Yes, I told you on the phone.
That's right.
He seems nice.
Who is he?
Thomas. He's a really strong fighter.
Have you thought of me?
Yes.
I've thought of you so often.
All the time, my beloved.
You know what?
Granddad and I had a men's night out at the fair.
Granddad told me.
You know, he's not very well right now.
His tummy hurts.
I'll take him to the hospital tonight.
We won't be able to celebrate his birthday together.
You're not upset?
I'll get my impedimenta.
No problem.
Thomas' parents are delighted to have Elias.
That's good.
Can't his father look after him?
His father's dead.
I'm sorry. Elias never said.
He died before he was born.
He's had stomach pains for a few months now.
I arrived in Grenoble this morning.
Any prior history?
Has he ever had an operation? Any illnesses?
I don't think so.
Does he smoke?
A little.
- Drink? - Very little.
My father's always anxious on finishing a book.
A perforated ulcer, maybe,
or acute colicystitis.
There's a risk of peritonitis.
I can't tell from the X-rays.
So it's best to operate as soon as possible.
Tonight?
I had to be in Paris tomorrow, but yes.
It's common enough.
You will be.
Did you fetch Elias?
Of course. He's staying with a friend.
That's good.
And I can stay with you.
I'm sorry.
Hush...
This machine doesn't take messages. I can't be reached.
Mercier & Landeau of the IRS, you're crooks.
I'll never pay you.
It's a scandal to deploy such idiotic acrimony in hounding
a respected citizen. And an artist!
Fuck you, Mr Landeau!
Good evening.
The hospital sent us.
There's some mistake: I'm not ill.
You've received our letters asking you to come in.
No, I haven't had anything.
I don't open my mail much
and I'm very busy right now.
The psychiatrists sent three letters. The last was registered.
It was to tell you we'd be passing
if you didn't present yourself.
It doesn't matter. I'm perfectly well, as you can see.
Goodbye, gentlemen.
You're refusing to come with us?
Indeed I am!
Sir, it's months since the doctors first wrote to you.
I'm not deaf! I never got it!
But you got the registered letter.
I'm not going to your shit hospital,
I'm not sick and I'm very busy!
- You're loud. - No, I'm not. I'm speaking normally.
You're shouting.
I shout if I want!
I can't believe it! This is my home,
I'm not bothering people,
I'm not shitting in their yards, get it?
Why are you morons pissing me off?
You have no police back-up, no warrant!
And I'd follow two yob nurses from the Stasi? You're insane!
We're not committing you, just taking you in
for treatment.
Treatment?
But I'm fine. Screw you up the ass!
Stop that.
Pardon?
Save that look for the nutters in your shithole hospital.
It's my normal look.
- I don't think so. - Sir...
That rope in the living room, what's that for?
What rope?
The one with a noose, hanging in the living room,
with a stool below.
I'm not suicidal, okay?
I understand, you see the rope, the chair
and leap to conclusions.
But I just need to know that I can do it.
Though I never will.
Isn't there something similar in Cicero or Seneca
or the Stoics?
Quite frankly, I'm not that well
but I'm not suicidal.
Gentlemen...
Don't make things difficult, sir.
Time to go now.
You're not taking me by force?
Grab his hands!
Bastards! Help!
I'll strangle you serpents!
What's going on?
I'll flatten you swine!
Give him a full shot of Droleptan!
He's had two of Clopixol!
Shit!
Half then, but a heavy dose.
It'll kill him!
He's wounded me!
Jab him through his trousers!
Give him the juice!
I'm morphine-resistant!
I'm wounded.
Wait outside.
Marie-Christelle, the door!
It's okay, I can manage!
His bowels are in such a state that we did nothing.
His belly is devastated.
We sewed him back up, that's all.
It's cancer.
Of what?
It's too late to tell now.
Your father must have been ill for months.
I don't know how he stood the pain.
That's terrible news.
I'm sorry.
What must I do now?
Let your family know.
Are there many of you?
No.
I have a sister.
You should call her quickly.
And when is he going to die?
Five days, ten days...
It's lightning fast.
Can I see him?
No, he's in post-op surveillance.
You should get some rest.
He won't wake until tomorrow morning.
Go home, you're tired.
I'll stay here a while.
Can't you stop crawling to these doctor assholes?
They prescribe me shit, their diplomas come out of cereal boxes
but it's a diploma, so you crawl to them.
They seem to be on the ball.
I'm tied down!
I'm tied to a fucking bed!
Think that's normal?
Maybe it's for your own good, son.
Do I look mad?
You think I look mad?
- Well, a little. Right? - Yes.
But once you're better, they'll let you back out,
I'm sure they will.
Dad, undo this fucking strap.
I won't break anything.
I'm a useless fighter.
Come on, undo it.
I can't.
Whatever happens,
there's a job at the grocery in Roubaix.
Mum, I play the viola in a quartet.
He's right, Monique.
"In the end, I am weary of this ancient world."
"Eiffel Tower, o shepherdess, your flock of bridges bleats..."
"You've had enough of the Greek and Roman classics,
Here, even the cars seem ancient."
Apollinaire.
Your dad's favourite poet.
- Tell me... - What?
Did you really go out dressed in a musketeer's cape?
Enough of all that.
Don't you ever wear strange things sometimes?
Well, no.
Haven't you ever felt like wearing clothes to fit an occasion?
Dad?
What do you mean?
I don't know. A cape? A poncho?
Rubbish. This doublet business is nothing.
Are you married?
Not legally.
Children?
Not really.
Sorry, how does one manage to "not really" have children?
I took care of a child but I don't anymore.
I'd like to know why I'm here.
Apparently, your behaviour has been a little excessive recently.
That's news to me.
Try to shed some light on that for me.
It's kind of you to worry about my health
but I don't recall asking for help.
That's quite true. You didn't ask.
Your relatives are worried.
My relatives?
You're here on a TPR.
What's that?
A Third-Party Request.
But what third party?
I saw my parents earlier.
They only came because I'm shut away here.
They live out in the provinces.
But you have a sister in Paris.
Yes, Elizabeth.
Impossible. I get on well with her. I saw her two weeks ago.
It went well.
Why're you here?
No particular reason. To see you.
Just like that?
Yes!
You missed Christmas.
True, but I've brought presents.
It's July now.
This is for you.
And the other two are for the twins.
I didn't know what to buy you.
Besides, I don't really know shops.
I didn't know what you needed, so...
Why give me so much money?
It's to get you started in life.
That's nice.
And what am I supposed to do with this?
It's to help you succeed in what you want to do.
But I make money.
Yes, I know.
You come to offer me money?
Can't you fucking ask yourself what I really want?
That's what the money's for.
So you can do what you really want,
without wasting time painting plates.
"Wasting time"? What do you know
about what I think about saving my time, saving my life?
Your paintings...
When I was sixteen!
Do you know who I am?
What do I care about being a painter?
- You want me to paint! - I don't.
Here I am, yelling! But I'm a gentle girl.
When I was eight, you decided I was vehement.
So I act vehement, unless you're around
and then I'm gentle!
Ask Delphine, ask Fidèle.
I want a child, okay?
I don't want paintings! I want to be a mother!
I can't help! I'm just your brother. I can lend you money...
It's not about the money. I'll take it.
But your concern for me... "Besorgen" in philosophy, right?
You're the little king of your world,
playing with your soldiers
and I'm alone like a dog!
You just show your ignorance of me.
Go on, get out!
- Have you eaten? - No.
All right, it's ready.
A little pepper?
- Yes. - Whatever.
Ketchup?
Whatever. Careful.
It's hot.
Cut it out!
Don't start, okay! Just don't start.
No thanks.
So I really don't see why Elizabeth would denounce me.
Why say "denounce"?
Guess.
It's necessarily malicious?
I don't have a "psychiatric" disorder or that bullshit.
You've been in analysis for eight years.
Three sessions a week.
You seem to be in distress.
Yes, my soul aches but you can't help me.
And why is that?
You're a woman.
And?
Sorry, but women aren't the same as men.
Meaning?
You have no soul.
Because I'm a woman?
Don't give me that look. It's not my fault.
Are there female priests or rabbis?
Right. Maybe you have something else instead but frankly...
I can't see myself discussing my soul with you.
Isn't that insulting for women?
Not at all, men live on a line
and you women live in bubbles.
Little bubbles. You move from one to the next
or use intersections...
Little bubbles of time, I suppose.
We men live on a single straight line. We live to die.
And what do women live for?
Well, for nothing.
You just live.
And we live to die.
How do you define the soul?
We won't talk about theology now. I'm not your pal.
I've been in this dump of a clinic since last night.
Just examine me and say it's a scandal!
I'd really like to know how you define the soul.
A cock and two balls, maybe?
A soul is a way of negotiating on a daily level
with the issue of Being.
I don't say you're a stranger to it.
I just negotiate on a fucking daily level with the issue of Being.
Don't play Mother Virtue
or some feminist or whatever,
with your notepad, on the lookout for symptoms
to lock me up and avenge any alleged wrongs done to you.
I haven't hurt you or anyone else, I'm not mad!
Get the message?
Need me to tell your politburo?
Maybe you aren't mad but a week's rest here will do you good.
What's my recourse?
Try the public prosecutor.
Good! I demand paper and a pen.
Certainly.
I'll get you, my bitch!
I'd advise you to calm down before writing.
I want some paper and a pen!
And give me my shoelaces back!
Who's that?
Chloe?
What are you doing there?
I came to see Dad. Elias is here.
I came down for Dad's birthday.
Can you put him on?
No, he's not here.
- Where are you? - Shit!
I needed a money order.
Dad's in hospital.
Fuck! I need money! He was supposed to send it!
When'll he be out?
They operated tonight. He's still in hospital.
They found tumours everywhere.
They operated tonight. He's still in hospital.
They found tumours everywhere. They had to...
stitch him back up.
It's gone into metastasis.
He's all devastated inside, he's dying.
Not him, not now.
They can't do anything.
He's going to suffer. And he's scared.
You have to come.
You have to come, Chloe.
I'm all alone here.
Elias is at a friend's.
I don't know what to do.
But I can't come!
I have no money.
I'll send you some.
No, I'll come.
I'll hitch.
Where are you? Are you in France?
Yeah...
Give me the name of a station
or an airport and I'll have a ticket sent to you.
I'll hitch. I'll come tomorrow.
Where can I call you?
You can't call me!
I can somehow.
Surely you have a friend with a mobile phone?
No!
I'll call you.
He's still sleeping.
Why are his eyes taped shut?
If the eyes stay open, it hurts when they dry up.
But we'll remove the tape soon.
You got caught in the rain?
Here.
I'll wait till he wakes up.
You look tired.
I didn't sleep but I'm okay.
I'll leave you.
Pierre!
You're here?
Well, yes.
It's so odd seeing you here.
Am I sleeping?
Not exactly.
I'm so happy to see you!
Me too.
You haven't changed.
Even more beautiful.
Oh no, I'm a lady now, you know.
It's been so long!
10 years.
You were so young!
It was so sad when you died.
Did you grieve?
It happened so fast,
I don't know if I had time to grieve.
And I'd got you pregnant.
It wasn't too hard
being pregnant all alone?
I fought, you know.
Is it your first?
Lift your sweater.
The father isn't here?
He's not curious?
He won't be coming: He died a month ago.
- We can postpone this. - No, go ahead.
A little boy or a little girl?
Tell me, a little boy? Yes.
A little boy? Yes!
A boy? Oh, that's good!
- How far gone are you? - 15 weeks.
No one wanted me to keep it.
But I wanted that child.
- You must get an abortion. - No way.
That's stupid. Pierre's dead and gone now.
- You don't understand. - I do and I love you.
You don't owe Pierre anything.
- You don't want it. - I'm over the limit.
We can go to England or Holland.
Shut the fuck up, Chloe!
I must have gone to the town hall 100 times
to declare our child.
I wanted him to have your name.
We need the father's consent.
He died accidentally early in my pregnancy.
I'm alone. I can't come here easily.
I'm sorry.
I've brought all his documents:
His personal details,
his birth certificate,
his death certificate...
For now, I don't see what I can do.
Just note in your registers
that he's my child's father.
I'm trying to explain
that even if you prove Mr Cotterelle is your child's father
- which I don't doubt -
I can't register your declaration. It's impossible.
How dare you say that?
How dare you?
Legally, a dead man cannot recognize your child.
They didn't believe me.
They said some horrible things.
I was alone to defend myself.
I was 20!
I fought so hard to get our child recognized.
Did your partner leave
papers or a letter saying he'd recognize your child?
A letter to a friend, say...
A letter...
If we were married, that would work.
We never had time to marry.
- I understand. - You don't.
Fetch your supervisor.
It won't help.
I'm not moving until I see him.
Madame, try to be patient.
I want to see your superior now!
All right.
May I?
Of course.
I've brought some towels.
Want them here?
Can I sit down?
Is he already moving?
- A little. - Really?
Want to touch?
Can I?
Here I am with big breasts!
It feels strange.
Looking back...
I'm astounded by my tenacity.
I was so brave!
But you were really brave!
Where is he?
He's coming.
I bless you.
You bless me.
My milk was bitter.
Then you married me.
I had to, to give Elias your name.
Given the presidential decree
dated September 3...
I thought I'd die of shame during the wedding.
It felt like blasphemy.
...authorizing the marriage of Pierre Cotterelle, born 25/1/65 in Paris,
son of Raymond and Andrée Cotterelle.
We hereby declare in the name of the law
that Pierre and Nora are husband and wife
from today on.
Witnessed by
Louis and Chloe Jenssens,
honorary lecturer at the University of Grenoble
and student.
The bride and witnesses have signed in the presence
of the mayor's assistant and the registrar.
I had so much hatred inside, that's what saved me.
My hatred protected me from all those people.
And from the shame.
I talk to Elias about you sometimes.
Does he look like me?
Yes, he looks like you.
In photos as a kid.
But he looks like my father too. His face.
He's more secretive than you.
He doesn't really ask questions.
And I asked too many.
Yes! All the time!
You're afraid.
Yes, right now, I'm afraid.
His grandfather adores Elias. You should see them together!
But now,
he's ill, he's going to die.
Just think...
You're dead
and my father will die too.
I don't know how to tell Elias.
You dozed off... Your father's awake now.
My father has loved me madly...
Come on.
Mr Jenssens, your daughter's here.
Dad, can you hear me?
The operation went well. I'm taking Elias home.
I'll be back tomorrow.
Surely you have a cash box or something?
This is a hospital.
But I'm here against my will, without my wallet.
I don't have a phone-card!
Just ask another patient or one of the nurses.
I'll write a cheque for ten 50-centime coins.
Lend me your pen. Your pen!
Plenty of inmates have mobiles. Ask them.
Thank you!
Your head's better...
I don't suppose I could borrow your mobile?
No...
I've nearly finished.
Can you play dominoes?
Claude, I'll play with you.
Hello?
Doctor, it's Ismaël Vuillard.
Sorry to bother you.
I'm afraid I have a slight problem for our session on Tuesday,
this afternoon, in fact.
Actually, I fear I won't be able to attend.
Really? Why not?
Well, I'm in hospital.
You've had an accident?
No, don't worry.
It's just a psychiatric hospital.
I see. All right, I'll expect you at 4 PM then.
Actually, the psychiatrists suggested
that you could come to the hospital for my session, if you'd do that...
That sounds like a very, very bad idea to me.
Yes, it's stupid, I thought you'd say that.
But I'll have trouble attending this afternoon's session.
I'll expect you at 4, as usual.
I'll work something out.
Goodbye, thank you, doctor.
Oh, shit!
It's not going to work.
No way. There's no way we're letting you out!
Your analyst will have to come here.
But my analyst refuses to move. Sorry.
Well?
I haven't missed a session in eight years.
Who is he? What's your analyst's name?
Dr Devereux
Of course.
Wonderful.
We'll find you an ambulance right away.
We'll find you one.
Can you cash me a cheque? I only have this.
Come on, none of that! I can lend you the money.
Who do you think we are?
Don't mention this to your doctor, please?
Of course not.
Attorney Mamanne. It's very urgent. Ismaël Vuillard.
Sir, you have Mr Vuillard on line 2.
- Ismaël |- Maître.
Where did you vanish to?
- It's complicated. - I can imagine, dear client,
but I'm panicking.
Get back here. The IRS wants blood.
But I'm locked up here.
Where?
In a hospital.
Ismaël, they're getting nasty.
They're biting.
It's silly but, apparently, I'm here on a TPR.
What's that?
A third-party request...
Fuck!
Yeah, you said it.
I have a recording on Saturday.
You'll need an excuse for the studio.
Are you coming?
I'll see to it.
Give me five minutes.
What's that?
It was just a nutter I borrowed money from.
I have to play dominoes.
We have to get you out!
I know. But I'm locked up here.
Hold on!
Just a minute.
Can you hear me?
Any recourse?
The psychiatrist - who's a real bitch -
mentioned the deputy public prosecutor.
He's the recourse.
Yes, I see.
Which hospital is it?
Go ahead.
Ville-Évrard.
Île-de-France ward.
- I'll be in later. - Thank you, maître.
I'm coming!
The psychiatrist...
Four-eight...
That's not nice.
Lunchtime!
All right, let's go.
Let's get started.
I've nothing to say.
You remember the rule here?
Yes, the rule of free association.
But with the nurse just next door,
I feel very embarrassed.
Never mind, go on.
This morning, I was pretty happy.
I finally had a real dream last night, a slightly strange dream.
And I was eager...
I was eager to tell you about it.
That's very good.
Go on.
Actually...
It happened in a church.
A big, Gothic-style church. During a ceremony...
There was a very large crowd standing at the foot of two ladders.
One very tall, decorated ladder, a "ceremonial" ladder,
and another that was much shorter.
It was either a coronation
or for a... regency. I couldn't tell.
All the citizens seemed very... cheerful.
And, in the choir, on the very tall ladder,
half way up and still climbing,
there was the Queen of England.
In person!
She was richly dressed, with her crown.
And, on the small ladder,
there was my third grandmother,
in a flowery-patterned dress, the kind you find at the market,
an old woman's dress...
I was twelve. And I was
in the crowd, among the "citizens",
watching my third grandma climb her ladder.
And, in the dream, all of us in the crowd,
we knew that each rung on the ladders
represented a further degree of knowledge.
Well, I guess the Queen of England must be you.
On my way here, in the ambulance,
I was thinking about this dream of mine
and I was wondering what it all meant.
And, suddenly, I realized it meant nothing at all.
In fact, my dream was merely a quote from a poem by Yeats.
My subconscious had made some cheap puns on an Irish poem!
You can talk about it here.
I think the whole dream is just an allusion
to a line in "Circus Animals".
I can't even remember it.
Try anyway.
An ambiguous line.
The French usually interpret "lay down" as "die".
"Now that I've lost my ladder, I die where all ladders leave."
I don't really agree.
You can interpret the same verb as:
That's much better.
Yeats is getting old,
he has lost his imagination's ladder but never mind.
Now he is resting there, at the very spot
where all the ladders of the mind originate.
Therefore, it's an optimistic poem.
You're quite right.
Still, it's tragic dreaming about translation problems.
I'd rather have normal dreams.
What are "normal dreams"?
About my parents
or I don't know... Like patients in Freud's books.
Forget Freud's books.
Any other thoughts about this dream?
It's a dream of impotence.
It's a metaphor for erection.
I can't climb the ladder: I'm finished as a man.
Or, in my dream,
I'm with the other citizens, in the crowd.
I'm twelve, I'm at the foot of the ladder
and I can look up...
your skirt.
Very good.
That'll be all for today.
Thank you, doctor.
Brilliant, you're legally crazy!
I knew it and this proves it!
The IRS can stuff the adjustment and all the rest up their asses.
Get the psychiatrist on your side.
What're you doing?
Writing to the prosecutor.
Don't fuck up!
This TPR business is your lifeline, our Christmas bonus and my fee.
We have them by the balls!
We'll make it retroactive.
"Okay, Your Honour, I screwed up but I was crazy."
We strike it rich!
But I have to clear my name.
Clear it?
Clear it!
Your dud cheques cover my desk.
Two IRS guys are on my ass. You owe a fortune. I can't go on!
You sent your ex-wife another cheque?
That's between Nora and me. For Elias' school things.
15,000! He uses Mont Blanc pens or what?
She makes money, her new guy's loaded,
she left you penniless.
Professor, you're poor!
I'll get you out.
You let the quartet know?
You're covered.
This sister of yours...
Does she often sign papers?
I've no idea.
It's just that...
a TPR needs the signature of a third party,
plus two medical certs.
The hospital signs the committal.
But who's the other doctor?
No idea. But thanks anyway.
You're welcome.
But, personally,
I can't imagine a sister, whom you see every six years,
finding some crooked doctor to sign it.
So who's the Dark Angel?
Someone who's worried about me?
Good evening.
What are those pills?
- Maybe you're worried about me? - Not at all.
Oh this...
Perhaps it could be a friend of mine
who's worried about me.
You have "friends"?
Never!
So...
who found the two doctors,
plus got your sister to sign?
It's this way.
I don't want to be any trouble but...
right now, I'm on Subutex. It's not really ideal for me.
Frankly, you look like shit.
I know! I'd have preferred methadone.
But your being in here has its positive side.
Let's check out the pharmacy.
You're in splendid health
but try to give up drugs for a while.
Can't your doctor give you anything?
Sure, this Subutex shit!
I need five doses to get trashed...
but I wouldn't mind a little treat.
What do you fancy?
Is this it?
Here? Where?
I think this is the one.
Come on!
Calm down, maître, please.
Thanks.
I'm not keen on Rohypnol.
Maître, we should hurry.
Ventoline...
Cortancyl...
Halcion!
You don't realize!
Oh, Melleril...
Artane!
- That's enough! - Hold on!
Atrarax. Brilliant!
Maître Mamanne |I'm not disturbing you?
I'd like to know the hospital's phone number
as well as the fax number, please.
You're delightful, thank you.
Here's my number. What's your name, dear?
Nadine.
See you, Nadine.
Chin up. Give me two days.
Your turn, Mr Vuillard.
If you like, Elias can stay another week.
No, I have to take him. I'll talk to him now.
Is it far?
No, only five minutes.
They're by the river.
That's nice.
Will you take him to see his grandfather?
I can't!
He has tubes everywhere!
- I'm sorry. - It's all right.
Shall I fetch him for you?
No, I'll go.
Have you got a cigarette?
I'll leave you to talk...
I don't know how to start...
Why have you come here?
It's your grandfather.
I was at the hospital yesterday and today too.
He's seriously ill.
Is he dead?
No, not yet.
I'm taking you home.
I couldn't care less!
I don't give a shit! I couldn't care less!
Care less! Less care!
Elias! Come back!
Nora, can you hear me?
I've booked two tickets.
The numbers are...
You have to go to the Air France counter.
They're expecting you.
What time's the flight?
Shit, I don't know.
But it's soon.
Get the time, Claude!
I'm looking.
I'm sorry. You don't have any bags to check in?
I think you have time. But hurry, it's the last flight.
Give me the time, Claude!
The Paris flight? What time?
I'm sorry, we've finished boarding.
It's too late.
They're just taking off.
Missed it?
I'll find a train.
There's an evening train from Grenoble.
Yes, but...
the airport's way out.
I know, but go back to Grenoble.
Give me a minute, I'll get the train times.
I have the train times.
There's a train at 7:30 PM
- from Grenoble. - Too late!
9:12 PM, that's in 10 minutes.
Impossible! I lost an hour at the airport.
Don't drive too fast.
Found Ismaël's number?
No, not yet.
Quick, quick, quick!
Let's run, come on!
The trains for Paris!
- No, the 9:12 train! - It's already left.
...sleep there.
I have to get to Paris. You don't realize!
I can find a hotel room.
I have a guidebook here.
You can fly back first thing.
No. I'll drive up to Paris tonight.
Then I have to come back for my father. Book me a ticket to Grenoble.
Of course.
Tomorrow, we'll book all the tickets you need.
But you should find a hotel.
Shut your mouth, Claude!
I'm sorry.
Have you found Ismaël?
No, I've tried both numbers you left me.
It seems he's in hospital somewhere.
No one would tell me.
Put my husband on.
That bastard Ismaël has slipped off again!
Don't worry.
I'll find him.
You're not too tired? Be careful.
I'm all right.
You know, Elias worshipped his grandfather.
I've got a nanny.
She's excellent.
She'll move in tomorrow.
And she'll look after Elias.
I could take them to the sea.
You can join us there.
Elias doesn't like you! I have to find Ismaël.
He doesn't have a man around now.
It's a matter of a few hours. I promise.
I'm all alone.
You don't know what it was like, having a child alone.
I don't want my father to die in hospital.
I won't leave him in hospital.
This is the best time. It's peaceful.
It's cosy...
You should get to bed.
It's 2 AM.
I'm not tired, though.
Did you take your tablets?
They're useless.
They're for wimps.
A real superman...
Any new arrivals?
I'm not allowed to say.
Any girls?
There's China Girl.
- Who's China Girl? - The Chinese girl.
Who is she?
A regular. The ambulance brought her in tonight.
Is she pretty?
Not bad.
I'll go and see.
You're not too tired?
No.
You were sleeping like a kitten.
I didn't scare you when I shouted?
I wasn't scared.
Are we in Paris?
Not yet. Soon.
Don't eat chocolate before eating your salad!
I love it!
That's a terrible meal for a little boy.
I'm an awful mother.
Are you room 212?
Can you spare a cigarette?
You slit your wrists?
Pretty dumb, isn't it?
No, it's sad.
You're young.
My fifth attempt.
But they're just cries for help.
And does anyone answer?
Not really. My parents, the ambulance.
And you? Are you mad?
No, I'm a judicial error.
Want some?
They missed it.
You don't seem very mad to me.
And I know a thing or two.
You seem concerned.
I bombed at my talk with the psychiatrist.
My replies sucked.
If it's any comfort, mine didn't go well either.
Still, I'll miss a week's classes.
What in?
Sinology.
To learn Chinese.
Is it going well?
No. I conscientiously fail all my exams.
But your parents?
My parents are provincial horrors.
They rent a maid's room for me,
they place all their hopes in me
and I do my best to disappoint them.
What do you do for a living?
I play the viola.
In an orchestra?
No, I have no team spirit.
Really?
Is the viola nice?
Yes. It's varied.
Show me your hands.
Not a violinist's hands...
I have my father's hands.
Want us to use first names?
Not really.
Sorry, but if we start using first names,
you'll be tugging on my cock in no time.
Then I'll feel obliged to sleep with you and so on.
And I'm not ready for a woman right now.
Especially one your age.
So no first names?
It's wiser.
Dr Vasset?
Mme Cotterelle.
Welcome.
Come with me.
Have you known Ismaël long?
What kind of man is he?
If I'd had a brother, I'd have wanted one like him.
Where's the bathroom, please?
Just there.
Why the hell are you here?
I've come because of Elias.
No, no...
Why ask me and not your new husband?
Elias adores you.
Well, you see, you're marrying
your gangster in two weeks
while I'm locked up here like a loony.
I can't go out, I can't write cheques.
Honey, I don't understand. You dump me
and now ask your ex-lover to adopt your son.
We're getting divorced!
We were never married.
Don't be scabrous, it's the same thing!
If I died now,
he wouldn't have any family left.
He'd still have his aunt.
And you're fine.
You look great.
You were his father for six years.
He always talks about you.
You tucked him in every night.
With you, he learnt to play jokes.
With you, he learnt to talk and to write.
Do you know many children who say,
"Mum, I'll get my impedimenta ready"?
You never call him.
I don't like that.
Calling kids is a pain in the ass.
I'd like you to be his father.
It's just a paper to sign.
Absurd... Why didn't you ask before?
- Try to climb up! - Come on, do what I do.
It's a bad time.
I'll need to ask my lawyer if I can sign it.
He systematically calls him "monsieur".
He never plays with the toys that Jean-Jacques buys for him.
Jean-Jacques is very patient, very responsible too.
Very different from you.
Do you get on well in bed?
He's not that keen on it.
I'm left in peace.
- He smokes in the evening. - He smokes?
Pot.
He just lies there.
At the weekend, he snorts heroin. Sometimes, I join him.
Of course we fuck sometimes. But it's not a central issue.
You say "fuck" now?
What?
"Fuck sometimes"...
You never used that word with me.
Is that him?
Your euphemisms are so puerile.
What euphemisms?
"Sleeping" and all that crap.
Nowadays, I say "fuck".
So, when you do fuck... What's it like?
He comes pretty quickly. Me too, actually.
It's not like with you.
It's simpler.
I bet you find loads of depressive little airheads
to brighten up your stay here.
Indeed I do!
What do you want from me?
I'd like you to be locked up forever
and never let out again
to pay for all your sins.
If I had stayed with you, you'd have soon tired of me.
I was 33. That's young for a man
but I'm already an old woman.
She's so beautiful...
Yeah, she's not bad.
That means you still love her.
I don't think so.
It hurts to think I'll never be a woman like her.
Still, she looks dumb to me.
Sure you don't want me to come?
I can fly back tomorrow.
No, I'd rather settle in alone.
It'd only make it harder.
This isn't really the right time but...
It's beautiful!
It's for the wedding. I thought
I'd give it to you when you got back but...
Do you want to postpone it?
No, we've published the banns.
Part II: Cruel Releases...
Madame Nora?
- I'm Madame Seyvos. - Good evening.
I'll be looking after your father.
I'm all right, thank you.
I do it well.
I do it dead well!
What?
I just counted up to 10.
Oh, right.
Don't you remember me?
Virag.
Your dad's publisher.
Ah, yes, forgive me.
Has Louis just arrived?
He's in no state to have visitors. He's very tired.
I'll just have a quick word.
Very pretty. I was looking at it while I waited.
It would make a good book-cover.
I brought it for him.
I have the galley proofs of our next book.
It's wonderful!
He's a wonderful writer. He must finish it.
- Is it a novel? - A novel? No.
It's a sort of diary again.
The third volume.
Where does he keep his notes?
That's private.
For my sister and me, his desk was sacred.
Of course.
He's dying...
But he'll want to finish his year 2001.
Here.
Give him this after he rests.
Let's be valiant.
I'll go and say hello.
Knight Alone
Men used me because I make no demands.
But that's over now.
Good, that's a good resolution.
Suicide, anorexia, I've had enough.
If you want sex, I want a box of pills.
What?
We get nothing. Tercian is creepy. Lithium's useless.
I used to like Motival but it's banned now.
If ever Chinese doesn't work out, you can take pharmacy.
I'd have been brilliant.
Talking of pharmacy...
Well?
Well, mademoiselle...
Your son or your nephew?
My son.
Your dad asked me to put his photo next to his bed.
He's a pretty boy.
Remember Virag was here?
He said you'd want to correct your diary.
I know.
Intubation is painful.
It hurts the larynx.
But you can breathe better now.
After the doctor calls,
I'll remove the pipe, later.
Dad...
Let go.
Stop it...
He's hurting me!
Monsieur! Please...
Who goes where?
Mademoiselle, no, I'm sorry.
I have to ease off girls for a while.
All right.
I'm too skinny?
What?
I'm too skinny to turn you on.
Tits, cheeks... You prefer shapelier women.
You're fine like that.
You prefer them big.
Yeah...
Good night.
Louis...
You got up on your own?
Can't you sleep?
Finishing your book?
I'm correcting it.
You should try to rest.
I have to send your sister some money.
Yes, I know.
I spoke to Chloe. She's coming.
Is Elias in Paris?
I've asked Ismaël to adopt him.
I've taught you not to show your feelings.
Yes!
I'm scared of the pain.
You'll get better.
"I was an adolescent then
By 16, I had forgotten my childhood
I was 16,000 leagues from my birthplace
I was in Moscow...
...For my adolescence was so fiery and wild
That my heart, like the Temple of Ephesus,
burned in the setting sun...
...My eyes illuminated old tracks
And I was such a bad poet
That I never reached the end."
What's up?
I'm going to bed.
Won't you stay? I know you're here.
You're a bastard.
Fine, see you.
No!
I won't let you in.
You forgot your keys.
It's three in the morning.
You desert me for your friends.
You're totally irresponsible.
You're not a man!
You're a narcissistic child.
Yes, I'm a child.
And you're a child too.
You're angry. You have been for months.
I'm sorry I've come back so late.
I'm pregnant, you had no right to leave me.
This is absurd.
Listen, if you don't open the door,
I'll break it down.
I forbid you to.
So, open up.
I'll use the window.
The bedroom window's open.
Open up or I'll climb over the balcony.
All right?
You'll fall...
Here I go.
No, I forbid you to!
You're in hell, Pierre.
I'm your nightmare.
You're a corpse and you're in hell.
I'm your nightmare.
You're crazy! Get lost!
What were you dreaming?
Stop torturing me!
It's good that you're pregnant, fuck it!
It's not a disease.
You're pregnant, not ill.
You're expecting a baby!
What do you expect me to do?
I work 14 hours a day, I take care of everything.
But every night, you wake me, you piss me off
with this sick shit!
You pour your poison in my ears!
My God...
We met barely six months ago.
You were so beautiful.
We had it off
and you got pregnant.
That's good.
Fine.
We'll do as you want.
But get off my back!
The neighbours...
Fuck the neighbours!
All this
leaks out of you. I won't be your undersheet.
Shut up.
You're crazy.
I accept it because you're crazy.
You're heedless.
You act like a coward, with me and your work.
You ignore me
in my own apartment.
Shut up.
You kill me! Shut your mouth!
Just shut it!
No, I won't shut it.
I want to sleep.
Shut your fucking mouth!
What is this?
I'm going mad here.
What are you doing?
Stop it!
Watch!
Watch this!
I want to sleep.
I'll shoot myself.
You wouldn't dare.
Shut up, just shut up!
You'd never dare.
Watch me.
Help me...
My friend's dying.
Call an ambulance.
My friend's dying.
Help me...
Help me!
You can sleep now.
It's half past five.
See you later.
- Nora? - Yes, Dad.
Did you know Pierre had a gun?
No, I didn't know.
You didn't hear him go to get it?
I was asleep.
He came in late.
How did he get in without waking you? He didn't have the key.
I don't know.
Maybe I didn't hear him.
There are two rooms.
It's less than 20 feet from the door to your bed.
I didn't let him in because I was on edge.
And then?
I can't remember.
He went to his desk.
Perhaps I went back to sleep.
It was the shot that woke me.
And you didn't know he had a gun hidden in a drawer?
It was an accident.
I told the police we'd do the paperwork tomorrow.
Sleep well, my baby.
Perhaps the neighbours heard you.
You'd better tell the police you didn't want to open the door.
He climbed in...
you argued and then you went back to sleep.
And you didn't know he had a gun.
Dad...
My fingerprints could be on the gun or the drawer.
We'd play with it sometimes.
No, I went to the flat this morning.
I wiped everything clean, there won't be any fingerprints.
You didn't know.
It was suicide.
Madame?
Leave me...
Leave me!
Go away!
Come on, my dear...
My sweet.
Leave me...
My little darling.
Come on, my child.
Don't touch me. I hate being comforted.
You didn't know. You saw me as a poor little widow.
Like everyone who's pitied me all these years.
I couldn't say I was guilty.
It's a thousand times worse,
having to lie for seven years.
Of course...
Up you come.
I hate your parents' looks.
And I can't ask you to pity me 'cause I killed him.
That's not true.
You don't scare me. And I wouldn't care if you had.
If I had, my heart would have bled.
No, I hold your heart in my hand,
like a little bird.
It was too good to miss. Just think, a murderess!
"She's killed but I'll survive!"
Credulity! What a presumptuous jerk I was!
In other words, as soon as a woman
represents a threat, you fall in love with her.
She needed help.
You have trouble thinking a woman might be wrong,
don't you?
Would you have found Nora's confession as charming
if she'd been less pretty?
Yes, I think so.
I'll put it differently.
Whom would you find it easier to forgive?
An ugly girl or a pretty girl?
It wouldn't matter.
I'd be wrong to criticize the ugly one
if they'd done the same thing.
Why couldn't you confront Nora?
We did have a few fights, you know.
I don't care about where I live!
'Cause you've no kids!
You haven't made a home here!
I haven't had time.
Too busy banging cellists!
Just one cellist!
I don't care, I have to protect my son!
Look, your son, he loves me. You love me. Period!
Yes, it breaks my heart but my son...
You're breaking my heart! Stay!
I can't! It's over!
You didn't get Elias by shagging some holy dove!
A bird didn't fly up your ass!
Stop playing the saint with me,
using your son as a rampart. You ain't no fucking nun!
Sorry...
But you always ended up apologizing.
Yes. My life is a failure.
Why?
Come on, doctor! The hospital...
I come here in pyjamas,
I owe 700,000 francs in tax,
I have to get my father to sign a guardianship order...
It's pathetic...
All right. See you on Thursday.
Nora has asked me to adopt her son.
It's out of the question that you should adopt Elias.
Chloe...
Believe me, he's melting away. It's horrible.
He's lost 25 pounds in three days.
He's melting away before my eyes.
You have to come...
He's in pain.
He keeps taking
stronger and stronger doses.
- Had a good night? - Yes, great.
How are you today?
Hi, Arielle. You okay?
Arielle, some tea?
Actually, it's not for me.
I'd like a tray for Mr Vuillard. Coffee, croissants...
Have this as well.
Your lawyer is a very enthusiastic man.
He's very devoted.
Yes, he's a charming man, full of energy.
I'm very fond of him.
Well...
Do you have any plans for outside?
I have to get back to my quartet and start recording.
I'd hate to abandon you.
Here.
You know what it is?
Yes! I co-signed it.
What's in it?
I can't tell you that.
Opening it is part of treatment.
In that case, I'd rather open it outside, later.
I used to be like you. I'd take a wicked delight in ignoring
official papers, rules, money matters...
But I had to adapt.
It's not that difficult.
You should open the envelope.
Can I leave?
Yes, you're free.
What? Straightaway?
Yes, straightaway.
Go and clear your room. Get that done.
Do you know you're very beautiful?
Yes, I have been told. Thank you.
I'll get my things.
Your lawyer should be waiting for you.
That's wonderful.
Good luck, Mr Vuillard.
Well?
Well, I'm free.
I'm taking my impedimenta.
That's great.
I'll love you better than the others.
Perhaps you should be wary of me.
Oh, you're not very complicated.
You don't scare me.
Until I'm totally lost, I'm not really in love.
Thanks for everything.
Bye.
Evening.
Arielle!
I'll call you every day with news of the real world.
And I'll release you.
Free!
Recognize them?
Don't start pissing me off with this crap!
No, I don't!
The IRS inspectors.
The bastards!
He's fat.
They eat all the time.
I think I've screwed up a bit.
Good news and bad.
You lost your apartment. Seizure!
And the good news?
I forget now.
I saved a few belongings.
From the psychiatrist.
This is it!
What the hell do you mean?
We have the document.
You're totally nuts,
kosher for all of 1995,
signed by the Beth Din of Paris psychiatry.
The IRS is trapped.
As for your apartment,
I'll get it back from the courts.
So I'm mad?
Yes. Well, no, you were mad. In 1995.
We aren't liable for your expenses that year.
Really?
And what now?
Meaning?
I'm still a mental patient.
We'll need a retraction from your sister.
My sister?
The mad one.
Elizabeth!
Not him! Not today!
Why're you here?
Well, I'm out of hospital.
Hi, Nico.
You needn't worry.
Babeth, we're in a bit of a hurry.
You know they locked me up for 10 days?
Freezing, isn't it?
I've brought you a retraction.
You're ruining the family name.
- Christian from the quartet told me. - Christian?
Apparently, you were doing crazy things.
You went out in disguise. In the rain, with your Amati viola.
Christian asked me to sign.
Come on, honey.
But why would he ask you that?
I don't want to talk about it.
I'm going.
He was writing all night. He's finished it.
He asked me to pass it on to Mr Virag.
I know. How is he?
He's starting to desaturate again.
I've had to put him back on oxygen.
Your father has taken a lot of morphine.
Too much.
If he increases his doses now, it will kill him.
We need to wean him off it.
We'll stop the morphine for a couple of days
until he "kicks the habit" a little.
After that, we'll be able
to start again with lighter doses.
I don't want him to suffer.
In any case, he's doomed.
You can't say he's "doomed".
He's ill but he's still alive, isn't he?
You can't save him.
He's in pain all the time.
And he's so frightened of dying.
Yes, it's very frightening.
What can I do?
You can be his daughter. And hope for a miracle.
What?
There are miracles with bowel cancer?
Not many...
But you can pray very hard
for a miracle this time.
I have to pray?
You don't have to. But what else can you do?
What about you, do you pray?
Not really.
Me too, I hope with all my might
that something impossible, something magical will happen.
And, that way, during all the time
your father fights the illness, you pray very hard.
I can't bear to see him suffer needlessly.
Christian!
- There you are... - Good evening.
Still here this late?
Well, yes.
Sorry about the camp bed.
The IRS has taken my apartment.
Sorry about last week. Did it go okay?
We had to replace you.
Fine...
I have to thank you for worrying about me.
It was you who called my sister.
She had me committed!
You know Elizabeth, she tends to overdo it!
Actually, the hospital was my idea.
I'm touched.
You were worried!
True, I've had a rough patch recently.
But I'm over it now.
I must have been a burden.
I'm going to get back to work...
I'm not that worried about you.
You're not?
I'm just sick of you. I have been for ages now.
- How long? - About 10 years.
After your absurd divorce,
I decided to throw you out of my quartet.
Because I've had to put up with your arrogance, scorn,
negligence,
acting like a genius,
the brilliant violist,
so precocious...
Genius my ass!
All your moods...
All that for so many years.
But I didn't let it show.
I was the lead violin but self-effacing.
Your loyal partner.
Your devoted, admiring cousin.
After you broke up, I often called Nora.
Hold on... You called Nora?
She was blooming after years
of being stifled by you
and I felt I was just as good as she was.
I too deserved to win.
In short,
I decided I wanted you out of my life for good.
Why did you say "my quartet"?
Your presumption is remarkable.
Well, I suppose I'll be going then.
Maybe I'll take my viola with me.
Your viola?
The Gubelkian Foundation lent it to you.
Excuse me a second.
I'm recording this, just in case.
You don't lend a four-million-franc viola to a madman.
The quartet is keeping it.
Your replacement will show it respect and care.
I nearly forgot.
Your poncho's at the dry-cleaner's.
Hello, Mum? Yes, it's Ismaël.
Yes, I'm out now, they were very kind.
I was wondering: Do you still have my music school viola there?
Well, I'll be needing it, actually.
I may be coming to see you. Lots of love.
Fuck!
"My star-spangled lute bears the black sun of melancholy."
How do I turn it off?
The top button.
Give Rachel my love.
What was the exact time of death?
3:46 AM.
Cause of death?
A seizure and respiratory failure.
Mr Jenssens was in the terminal phase.
Morphine?
No. Diprivan and Hypnovel.
Did you help him?
I couldn't.
She did it.
She's sleeping in the living room.
The poor girl hadn't slept for three days!
They're taking the body away.
"From the dead..."
"The waters of Noah shall no more go over the earth
and I swear that I shall not be wroth with thee
or rebuke thee.
For the mountains shall depart
and the hills be removed,
but my kindness shall not depart from thee,
neither shall the covenant of my peace
be removed, saith the Lord
that hath mercy on thee."
You pulled the plug on your own. You're a monster.
You weren't here.
You knew I was on my way!
I'd spent three days here, with him dying.
That gave you rights?
It's easy for you.
You act crazy, you flee responsibility.
You didn't talk to the doctors.
I have to do the dirty things.
Dad couldn't stay here alone and I was lost.
You...
You didn't see how he was suffering.
I thought it was for the best.
He weighed 80 pounds,
he was all yellow...
I didn't want him to suffer.
He was like a child. I wanted to protect him.
Remember this?
Oh, how embarrassing!
Have you done Dad's room?
I'll do it now.
My beloved little daughter,
Your egoism has been monstrous...
I think it's partly my fault
that you have turned out this way.
I wish I didn't love you
but, of the two daughters your mother and I had,
you were the prettiest.
And you needed to seduce me
and I needed to be seduced.
I was very lonely,
your mother was often in hospital
and that made it easy for you.
I've loved you madly
all these years.
Your sister has cut herself off
while you have blossomed.
More aggressive each day,
more insolent, caustic, cold,
superficial...
Even so, I couldn't help but cherish you.
Now, I feel a rage towards you
that I cannot put out,
even with my body in tatters.
I burn with anger
in the face of your evil rebellion.
I'm guilty because it was me who urged
my little girl to be proud.
And I was so fond of your pride.
Like curdled milk, your pride has turned into sour vanity.
Your pride has become a stupid
affectation.
Today, you're bursting with bitterness,
my child, just like me.
You're my daughter all right.
You think your dry laugh conceals
your delight?
You're delighted because pride makes you weak
but your bitterness gives you formidable power.
You were so submissive.
Until I discovered your submission hid
an iron will and an envy
that struck terror into my heart.
I fear you.
I hate you,
my little girl.
I'm dying.
And I find it unfair I should die while you live.
What's wrong?
Your face is all red.
I'm all right.
If only you had my cancer and were in pain.
If only I had the time...
to forgive you,
after you die.
- When do the removal men come? - Tomorrow.
So I die with rage in my heart.
I cannot stand the idea of you surviving me.
I wish you would die instead of me...
and that's not possible.
And Jean-Jacques?
He's coming back tomorrow...
to get everything.
You'll come with us?
Hey, you came!
You look like Elmer Fudd!
Too classy for you.
A convict's cap.
Hi, Simon!
You seem to be in good health.
Why do you work so late at your age?
You know, the way things are going,
if we didn't stay open late, we'd have to close down for good.
Where's Mum?
She's at home.
She opens up in the morning.
Luckily, your cousin Simon helps us out
superbly.
It's Chernobyl!
Max, check this out!
There's no beer?
No, lads, no alcohol. But there's soda.
What kind of crap store is this?
Soda, he said!
Here, Dad... You have to sign here.
Sure about this adoption?
Young Elias...
I'm sure.
Forget it, bro.
Yeah, too right.
It's Charlie Ingalls!
Got no beer?
Call this dump a store?
Anyhow, there's no beer.
Not even a "Despy"?
You've got nothing?
No beer, nothing.
C'mon, empty the cash register!
Give it to me!
Come on, shithead!
Sit your ass back down!
Look at me and you won't see again.
- Lower your eyes! - I am!
I want your money now!
Stop smiling like that, bastard!
- Calm down. - Back off! Don't fuck with me!
Cut it out!
Watch this!
Dad, stop, they have pistols!
I'm gonna waste you!
Pull that trigger, you lose your balls.
Do yourself a favour.
All right.
Okay, Marcello?
Yeah, I'm okay.
Mister, I think my leg's a bit broken.
Hey, son!
Your pal here is wounded.
Fucking get out!
The other guy's left.
We have two guns, you're alone.
Get the fuck out!
Move!
You've had it.
Slide your gun over and I'll let you go.
Does that suit you?
You'll need to take your pal, he can't walk too well.
There, no harm done.
He fucked my knee. Bye, mister.
It's over.
You have to close this fucking store!
You know, you mustn't worry.
I mustn't?
Your sister has always been a bit uptight.
I tell ya What I'm into...
Here they come!
Your mother and I wanted to talk
to all our children.
Your cousin Simon has lived here for 20 years.
I was proud to see how you welcomed him
when he came here
after his mum died.
Simon is stubborn and still doesn't get on with his dad.
He's disinheriting him!
His dad doesn't own much anyway.
Your mum and I are getting on
and we feel we should sort things out
before I die.
Abel...
Anyhow, I'm thinking of legally adopting Simon.
Isn't being Gilles' guardian enough?
But, sweetheart, Gilles is totally different.
This would be a simple adoption.
Simon has a father.
We often tell him that.
It won't be a full adoption.
So why adopt him?
Simon and his father have never got along.
We'd like to leave Simon a little something
and we thought of dividing things into five,
if you all agree.
Delphine?
Fidèle?
Loathing your father isn't grounds for adoption. We all loathe our fathers!
Simon isn't just anyone to you!
So think about us!
This is our inheritance.
Why not consider our needs instead
of throwing our money away?
That's right.
Why is Dad adopting him? It's Simon's mum who's dead.
Sorry, but aren't you overreacting?
It's just Dad's way of thanking him.
Simon is like our brother.
You what?
Are you a brother for me and the twins?
He came here at 14.
He has financial problems, we all know that.
I must be dreaming.
You've never done a thing for this family and now you lecture to us...
Why not adopt that guy from school Mum adored,
Teddy, while you're at it?
Teddy's different, he isn't our cousin.
Teddy is a marvellous boy. He's fighting to get ahead.
He's the biggest pusher in Roubaix! You didn't know?
Teddy has to get ahead somehow.
We've all sought comfort in drugs sometimes.
Coffee...
Chocolate...
What's that? A burn?
I don't know.
Does it hurt?
I don't feel any pain.
Has it been there long?
I never saw it before.
It's nothing.
It's over.
Just a quick stay. I go back tonight.
- Where? - Back to Paris.
The viola!
And who are you?
I'm Monique, your grandson's mother.
She's your mother?
She's Monique.
And how did you have him?
How do you mean?
Well, how did you have him?
Through delivery or through...
- Adoption. - Through adoption?
Through delivery.
That's good.
And you're my son?
Of course, Mum.
How did I have you?
Through adoption.
Yes, that's right.
That's good too.
Give me that and go and kiss him.
Thanks.
Thank you.
Prospero! You were here?
I heard you were recording, so I called in.
It's beautiful!
Yes, it's not bad, it's Viennese.
Everything okay at the hospital?
Yes, everything's fine there.
We've had a few problems with Arielle, our China girl.
She's had EST, electroshock therapy, under anaesthetic.
She had another little go at suicide.
She's at the outpatients' clinic now.
But her parents want to lock her up.
Maybe you could call her.
Arielle? It's Ismaël.
How are you?
Oh, you know, I'm fine. I'm in great shape!
That's good.
I had to go to the provinces,
I went to see my family, travelling, everything's worked out
and I have a new job.
I'll tell you about it.
I almost came to see you and I didn't.
I've often thought of you.
How are you keeping?
I'm okay.
I'm glad to hear it.
I'm bored.
It's a bad line. I can't hear you very well.
I hear you.
I'll call you back. Okay?
We're going to be cut off.
Sorry to disturb you today of all days.
Don't worry. It's a happy occasion.
- Come in. - Heavens, no!
I've just come for the typescript.
Of course.
Here you are.
Some pages have been torn out.
Where can they be?
He must have thrown them away.
I know the nurses took care of everything back there.
Well, thank you.
My very best wishes.
Who was that?
My father's publisher.
I'll get some wine from the cellar.
Where were you? I was getting worried.
I went to the cellar to get some wine.
You seem concerned.
Shall I ask them to go?
No, I'm fine.
You're sure?
All right.
Nora, a toast!
To Jean-Jacques and Nora!
And to Elias!
Bye.
Hello, sir.
Could I see your registration, please?
I'm sorry, I get the impression you've been drinking.
Yes, but I'm parked.
And this is my crate.
All right.
Cigar lighter!
Same again?
Tu quoque!
There you go.
I'm looking for Arielle Phénix.
I'd like to talk to Arielle Phénix.
How come you're here?
The hospital told me you were out.
It's my house-cooling.
Fuck, are there this many of you in Sinology?
Just 12. I guess people like parties.
I'm celebrating my departure.
I'm going back to Besançon, I'm gonna be hospitalized there.
I'm here to make some solemn declarations.
I need to talk to you in private.
That'll be tough.
That way.
I've come here to apologize.
I've hardly called you,
I've never written,
I haven't been to see you once in hospital.
I don't want an apology.
I don't regret anything, you know.
If I've hurt you, I'm sorry. That's the best I can do.
My love...
Do I scare you?
Why would you?
I must scare you. You're young and beautiful.
So? Is that a crime?
Let me get down on my knees!
You're trembling.
Because I'm about to open up my heart to you.
I was wild before I met you!
You can call my analyst for the details.
You'll do it after we marry.
She'll confirm that I'm mad.
Sorry, but I can't remember her number.
I'm tired, Ismaël.
And I haven't even brought you a present.
Take my watch.
- I don't want it! - It's a good one!
And you need it.
You see, there are moments when I feel incredibly self-confident.
But, mostly,
I know I'm just a worn-out old bull.
Ismaël, shut up.
I want you to share my life.
Maybe I'll ask them to go, then.
Well...
I've missed you, my little boy.
It's been a long time.
Your mother has asked me to adopt you.
- Do you know about that? - Yes.
I've thought about it
and I've decided
that it's not a good idea.
I came here to tell you that.
You're not speaking?
I'm thinking of ideas.
You see, your mum and I
were so much in love,
that I ended up meeting you
as well.
How old were you? Three? Four?
I forget.
Since it was true love
and you were tiny,
I simply adored you and got along with you.
As I told you once,
one thing that I'm very proud of in my life
is knowing you.
- Is that true? - Yes, it's true.
That's how you and I became almost like a family.
I didn't know your dad but I think he was a great guy.
Really?
He gave you a load of things:
Your name, your face...
So you already have a father.
Okay, he's dead.
That's sad.
But it was before you were born and it's not easy to mourn a stranger.
There's a German poem
about a boy whose mother is dead.
That means,
"Your mother's soul lashes out at the sharks before you."
That poem always reminds me of you
'cause I think your dad's soul protects you from sharks.
So it wouldn't be a good idea
for me to pretend to be your father now.
Your mother used to say you and I should be friends.
But a grown-up and a child shouldn't be friends.
I know that when I was little,
I didn't like those grown-ups who'd try to charm me
or try to establish complicity with me.
What's complicity?
Complicity is being pals, it's sharing secrets.
When I was little, I stole from stores a lot.
You stole from stores?
Or we'd attack the girls at school.
But I didn't want to attack girls
or steal from stores with a grown-up.
So, pretending to be your friend would be another lie.
You shouldn't have to decide whether you like me or not.
I don't care. I'm the grown-up.
When I looked after you, at times I'd annoy you
but at others you'd adore me.
I carry you in my heart now,
even if you turn into a total bastard
or I don't see you for 1279 years.
I have to think about you
because I enjoy doing it.
As a child, you don't have to think about grown-ups or about me.
Unless you need to.
Nora has a new life, like a new house.
So, if we meet too often, I'll be in the way.
Your mum says you don't get on too well with Jean-Jacques?
You won't smoke, will you?
Yes, I'll be like you!
No, you'll be better than me.
Maybe you don't give a damn what I think
but he doesn't seem so bad to me.
I can't replace your granddad.
Granddad is dead too.
I know.
You see, the past isn't what has vanished.
No, it's what belongs to us.
I don't understand.
What belongs to us now are the memories we both have.
It's weird, isn't it?
Because there's no name for what we share.
I looked after you for seven years.
A long time.
But it's over.
I'll tell you what bothers me.
Firstly, you're an introverted little boy. Secretive, say.
But that's not a failing, it's a quality.
As a boy, I couldn't manage to speak
so I used to stammer.
- Is that true? - Yes, it is.
As for you, you're just a little reserved.
In return, life has given you a rich soul.
That way, when you feel lonely,
you can retreat to your inner garden
to chat with your imagination.
I remember your poems in primary school and you're a true poet.
But I can imagine it's not always pleasant for you.
A secret treasure is a good thing but it mustn't become a burden.
If it does, I see you locked up in your thoughts,
that hurts me and I want to free you.
And I wonder what fear or anger makes you flee the world.
...In my own way, I'm fairly introverted too.
And, being introverted, I thought
that I could give you some advice for school.
Really? What?
Well, solitude is a big problem.
And there's no easy way around a problem like that.
Many characters are introverted.
There's Batman. You often remind me of him.
The same grim look and love of secrecy,
the same fear that turns into great bravery.
There's Peter Pan, playing with the Lost Boys.
There's the Baron in the Trees, a great book.
I love the Baron because he reminds me of my tree in Roubaix.
- Do you remember? - Yes, the tree in Roubaix!
There are other introverted characters in books or real life
but that's proof enough that you and I
aren't the only two on the wary side.
And I'd like you to see that doctor you got on well with.
A child shouldn't talk only to his mother.
A mother is great to look after you,
to love you, for you to love, etc.
But she's not enough to make you grow up.
You need an extra adult to help you to grow
so you're not shut up in the love
between parents... and children.
Maybe that scares Nora. And not you.
Nora probably thinks,
"My God, am I a good mother for Elias?
Let's see the doctor."
And you think,
"Nora's the one who needs the doctor, not me!"
That's smart. You can separate what she wants
from what you want.
In a way, you're right but...
This is the only advice I have for now:
Of course, we're always right.
But it's always possible that we could be a bit wrong too.
Being a bit wrong is very good news!
It means you don't have the whole answer.
That life will be more exciting
and full of surprises than you thought.
I watch Elias and Ismaël approaching
and think life is strange.
I've loved four men,
I've killed two
and that doesn't mean anything. I feel no remorse.
My other two men walk towards me,
I know they'll survive me. That's all I need to be happy.
The cycle of woes is over.
Did it go well?
I don't know.
Goodbye.
Bye, kiddo.
I remember this poem Ismaël used to recite to me
when we were living together and I fell asleep in his arms.
Put your treasures in here.
Water, is taught by thirst
Land - by the Oceans passed
Transport - by throe -
Peace - by its battles told
Love, by Memorial Mold.
I'm no longer thirsty.
I have both feet on the ground.
I've found peace at last.
What are you doing?
This is Simon but I don't have his photo.
This is Nora.
She's Pierre Cotterelle's lover.
This is Louis Jenssens.
He's my grandfather...