You're the first to have the honor.
You're very nice, Marcello.
Does it work?
It works!
What a romantic spot!
Take off your coat.
No, Marcello, I'm naked.
Take it off!
It's cold.
I thought about you all night long.
You never look at me.
I do! Come on, take it off.
Well?
Turn around.
Show me your fanny.
Raise it.
Think of Philippe.
Philippe... this is love! I'm different.
It's all the same to me.
I'll marry her anyway.
She does it out of goodness, not vice.
Understand?
Come on, time to eat.
To the table... time to eat.
With an ornamental platter... toast...
and a bed of caviar.
The border garnished with a bed of olives...
slices of lemon, cedar and sugar.
A sweet course:
Quartered oranges, sprinkled with sugar...
Stop, I'm getting sick.
A beautiful recipe.
It's not finished.
Why are you sulking?
I'm not sulking.
You're very handsome today.
Permit me.
Philippe... be broadminded.
Big ass man, this Marcello.
Why is there no stuffing in the turkey?
Ugo, why didn't you put in any stuffing? It's stupid, it's sad.
It's sinister like that.
It's dry, look at it...
it's spiritless.
There are other things, there's puree...
Cremes... apple, chestnut.
And the stuffing?
Life is stuffing.
Stop eating.
Stop!
Chestnut puree is one of my vices.
A solitary vice, then... I hate it.
On the other hand, I adore stewed apples...
because they're so sweet.
Too bad there are no pears.
You've got to! I've got to do it!
I've done it every night of my life.
I've got to!
Oh, shit!
I've got to do it!
Marcello... it's not my fault.
Not your fault!
You haven't understood!
It's impossible to eat yourself to death! I'm leaving!
Calm down, Marcello... calm down.
What is it? What's going on, Marcello?
He's right, I am too fat.
No, my little dove.
You're beautiful, you're not fat.
You're soft... you're graceful.
You're light, and you're a good cook.
Yes... she's also sensual.
You're three imbeciles.
That's the word... that fits you.
You can't eat yourselves to death...
because you're eunuchs!
Marcello, please... eunuchs?
If there's a eunuch, it's you, you just proved it!
All three of you!
Stop... this isn't the moment!
He makes trouble, he acts jealous, he plays the imbecile!
There's no fantasy in this story.
You've picked the most disgusting way to die!
Go on, wash your face, freshen up...
Freshen up? I don't need to freshen up!
You need to freshen your ideas!
Look at this! What is this?
Oh shit! Shit!
Marcello? What is it... are you hurt?
I'm covered with shit!
Horrors, it's a tidal wave!
My God, how horrible!
Come help me! It's a catastrophe!
It's horrible! It's filthy!
It's appalling! It's monstrous!
Don't leave me alone!
The explosion...
Don't leave me alone like this!
Come on!
It's full of filth!
I'm afraid Ugo's a trifle sick.
Yes, I think so.
Me stay here?
You're crazy!
It's snowing.
The wind's blowing.
A snowstorm.
The smell of shit.
We'll never be rid of it.
Aren't you sleepy?
Michel, after all the work we've done?
With this stink, who can sleep?
Come on, let's sleep.
The universal deluge...
of shit.
Marcello is...
fighting a plastic monster by his car.
Did you see him? He was afraid to die.
He's gone.
Michel... quiet... the neighbors.
Philippe... we must bury him.
Out of the question.
Illegal inhumation of corpse...
severely punishable by law.
Article... I forget.
I'm cold.
Is it ready?
Not bad at all.
What are you making?
Professional secret.
A marvelous taste.
Can I taste?
Didn't you sleep well?
I slept, but I have a headache.
Can I taste?
Your mouth smells of borscht.
Come, I've got an idea.
What? Tell me.
Tart Andrea!
Fantastic!
See!
Come on...
Press... press!
You'll see... what a tart!
I'm trying to do some exercises, but...
I'm a little tired.
Did you see? I found some straws...
in the kitchen.
For hot chocolate.
I was an anti-aircraft officer.
Come have breakfast. There's a surprise.
A big surprise.
Are we eating this tart or not?
You scared me. I thought it was Marcello.
No, it isn't Marcello.
But he has the pilot's insignia.
Her ass.
Want a piece?
It looks good, but not now... in a bit.
Not eating?
Marcello plays well.
Almost as well as Michel.
We're used to it.
The difficulty is in the rapport between the taste of the wine...
and the moment when each dish is ready.
Each, first, must be steeped in the juices...
in which it will partly cook...
The final cooking will be done in a brioche pastry.
So, let's start.
Sherry for the chicken.
Port for the duck.
And champagne for the goose.
A bit more.
Eat the brioche, you'll see.
I love brioche in milk.
Yes? Especially for your diabetes.
Why the egg slices?
Because eggs...
according to the Jews...
are the symbol of death.
I could be a millionaire in one month...
making these dishes for people.
But they'll never know...
what they're missing.
We, on the other hand...
and our friends.
I drink to them.
The honor goes to you.
You cut it.
Cut that? How?
I can't slice that... it's too bulky!
It's pure poetry!
Well, it's bulky poetry!
Taste it with the fork.
Just a bit.
How is it?
Shit.
You're not being sincere.
It's shit poetry.
Andrea, you taste it.
It's good, isn't it?
It's good, but it won't go down.
But we've got to eat!
I'll eat it all myself...
and I'll cut it!
It's marvelous!
Marvelous!
I'm going to sleep a bit.
Coming, Andrea?
No, I'll stay here with Ugo.
I'll keep him company.
Goose pate... chicken pate...
duck pate.
Philippe calls this shit!
It's genius!
Come to the kitchen, Ugo's got to stop eating. Come!
Ugo is old enough to know what he's doing.
Come, we'll both tell him.
I have no influence over him.
Yes, we'll manage.
Stop!
Stop now!
That's enough... stop.
Or else you'll die.
Shut up, dogs!
Tomorrow, make me another pate.
And I'll eat it.
All right...
I'm heating you some water, Ugo...
it's good, with sugar... for digestion.
Listen!
You owe me something...
You know... yes.
Oh, that's good.
I leave you...
the tower as a souvenir.
More... more...
He's dead!
Come, Philippe. Let's go to bed.
What do we do with Ugo?
Leave him in his kitchen... it's his domain.
We'll think tomorrow.
You're a glutton, Ugo.
You eat too much.
You always ate too much.
For you.
It's very sweet, and very good.
God knows what they think of me.
That's enough, Ugo... stop.
They must think I've abandoned them.
Here we are, together, happy...
And they...
Wait here, Philippe. I'll see who it is.
Straight ahead.
There's someone in the house.
The meat. Where do we put it?
In the garden.
This is good meat!
Yes, in the garden, over there.
A delivery of meat just arrived.
- Is it nice? - Very nice, Philippe.
Is it stamped Grade A?
That's the best.
Because last time...
it wasn't.
Tell your boss...
that last time the veal was second-rate.
I can't go on.
Is that better?
I'm cold.
Is that OK, Miss?
Meat in the garden!