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...