My son is dead.
I looked inside myself and realized.
...that I felt no grief.
Suffering is a painted backdrop.
Tears bring me no nearer to the world.
My son...
...fell from me like...
...a leaf from a tree...
...and I've lost nothing.
Joseph is now my founder.
This loss is my foundation.
Joseph has made of me his son.
And I feel boundless joy.
In 1965, Abel and Junon had a son:
Joseph, the first-born.
Two years later his sister was born: Elizabeth.
In kindergarten, the boy developed.
...a blood cancer called Burkitt's lymphoma.
Only a bone-marrow transplant could save Joseph.
Neither his parents nor his sister were compatible.
Junon conceived a third child.
...but amniocentesis showed his placenta would be of no help.
Abel left for the hospital in Paris.
with his son, wasting away.
Junon delivered in Roubaix
...and Henri was born.
No use.
Joseph died 18 months later.
He was six.
Henri wasn't taken to the funeral. He had a belly ache.
Elizabeth became the eldest.
Six years later, Junon had a last child...
Ivan.
Slowly, the memory of Joseph faded.
A CHRISTMAS TALE
Junon?
Junon, what happened?
Nothing.
It's silly. I fell.
THE ELDEST
I'm sterile.
I'm unhappy.
Angry.
Seething with anger.
I even hate you.
Week after week, the same sorrow hounds me.
There's no end in sight.
Whose death am I mourning?
Mourning...
It's not my brother Joseph.
We never stop talking about him.
No one cares about my son.
And he's alive.
It's as if someone died and I don't know who.
It's silly.
I haven't mourned anyone recently.
I search for the guilty party...
...the one I can't seem to bury.
To no avail.
Of course...
...but try again.
That's all.
I guess when I say this it's a metaphor.
But a metaphor for what?
I'm lacking in nothing.
I'm lacking in nothing at all.
Why do you hate your brother?
Over the years, my loathing grew.
Five years earlier.
Was Henri now vile? Did I ever love him?
He had bought a theater and produced my plays.
Being indebted weighed on me.
I represent the former owners of the theater...
...a theater that was never paid for...
But my client is not solvent.
I will be.
I never paid for it, but I bought it.
...and now I'm selling it.
I was a shitty manager.
...but tomorrow I'll double my money.
You are not financially liable for your children.
You're not bound to pay your son's debts.
I am, morally.
And Henri is in a situation of extreme poverty.
Is what your father says true?
Of course!
Of course he's extremely poor.
My father was guarantor...
...so legally you must repossess his house and business...
In any event, I won't disown my son.
However foolish he has been.
If I sell, I can get 700,000 francs.
I don't know who gave you that figure.
...but it may be lower.
Cut it out. It's just some cash-flow trouble.
We won't be selling anything.
I have a solution, Henri.
Can you step outside?
Of course.
Here are three payments.
My client agrees to reimburse the defendant's debts.
Papa, I have one condition.
I won't see my brother again.
He must never speak to me. Ever.
No more visits, no more surprise gifts.
He mustn't see my son either, or anyone in the family.
What you're asking for is not done, honey.
You're my children.
Obviously you can see him whenever you like.
But I don't ever want to have to put up with him.
At your place, Ivan's, Simon's...
...in restaurants, on holiday.
Nowhere.
What you're asking of my client.
...is unreasonable.
Your Honor, I'm court-appointed...
My clients just want what they're owed.
Madame...
...your private life is not a matter for the court.
Wherever I go, Henri won't be there.
Wherever I am, he won't be part of the family.
Henri had never paid a bill.
He had his hands in the till...
waiting to turn a profit on what wasn't his.
He'd have chosen prison over honesty.
When he was dragged to court...
I decided to save him.
One last time.
Your sister wanted to testify against you.
...to deprive you of artistic control.
I pleaded the impossibility of testifying against family.
Your sister asked never to see you again.
I think I heard her say.
...that you were...
...banished.
I think that's the word she used.
I'm sorry.
Crook. Bastard.
That's life.
I'll eat with your sister then take the train at 10.
Want to have a drink at the station?
Nine-thirty?
You're not in jail.
It's better than nothing.
After 6 weeks of protective custody, the judge dismissed the case.
Henri was acquitted.
He disappeared from my life.
You make him out to be the devil.
He's like the devil.
Ordinary, twisted. He's banal.
To be rejected by your mother goes against nature.
Why such animosity between mother and son?
I told you.
Henri is predictable...
...like evil.
Meanwhile, in Roubaix
It's me.
So? What's the news?
As of now it's a refractory anemia...
with a disastrous short-term prognosis.
I didn't understand them, but...
...statistically I'm going to die twice.
I have a degenerative cancer.
...that has a 750/0 chance of killing me.
The only solution is a bone-marrow transplant.
But the transplant is likely to kill me too.
So...
...your chances are slim.
Indeed.
I wasn't that great a deal.
We need to up the ante...
...like in poker.
I was always lousy at cards.
A 1 in 4 chance of compatibility with my siblings.
You don't have any left.
Too bad my brother died young.
A 250/0 chance.
Even if the donor is compatible...
...the transplant can kill the host.
Kill?
Yes, kill.
Not the cancer, the transplant itself.
And that's called a...
GVH.
350/0 chance.
Do we have to run the risk?
Radiation and chemotherapy can't help.
In fact, my blood phenotype is extremely rare.
I never doubted it, sweetie.
Elizabeth's son, Paul.
Paris, 1 a. M.
You okay?
Where is he?
Next door.
I'll see him.
Hey, honey.
What's going on?
I come...
...here...
...except...
Except?
There was no train last night.
It's my fault. I should have been here, for you.
Did Elizabeth see me?
I scared her...
Tell me.
What's this about a knife?
Paul?
Can I come in?
My son had a shock this morning.
He heard about Junon.
Take this.
Get me out of here!
At night they take my blood.
THE MIDDLE CHILD
Gotta get the song out.
Fire ball in my belly.
Acid batteries in my liver.
Orifices aren't mine.
It's all stuck.
Broken mouth, torn ass.
Eyes aren't orifices.
If you poke a hole in one...
...an absent eye...
Sir...
We married.
Anyone we can notify?
I'm married, thank you!
Roubaix Hospital -Hematology Service.
We've started inquiring at tissue banks.
But there's a real danger.
we'll never find compatible marrow.
What about placental blood?
Ditto.
You have a very rare gene.
What does this mean?
Regular transfusions to offset.
...your lack of red blood cells.
But the infections will increase.
Chances of survival without treatment.
...are 100/0 over 5 years.
Or else?
For infants, as a last resort, we inject the parent's marrow.
A haplo-transplant.
But the odds plummet. It's very violent.
And the other way around?
Children to parents.
It's not done.
How so?
It's not done.
It's a desperate solution.
Why shouldn't Elizabeth give me life?
It's cold. Anesthetic gel.
Are you afraid?
Yes.
A little prick here.
It's quick and painless.
Just a second.
You're brave.
THE YOUNGEST
Hi.
Ivan Vuillard, for Paul Dealus.
- And you're... - His uncle.
Your sister is waiting. Room 19.
How's he doing?
I can't tell anymore.
But he asked to see you.
I guess he heard his uncle went bonkers at the same age.
Cigarette?
Drink?
Nope.
They put mini-antennas in my skull.
To read my thoughts.
Your skull is no more bugged than your ass.
School got off to a bad start.
So at home I went overboard.
What does your father say?
That I'm lonely.
Because I have no good friends.
Do you have bad friends?
I know no one at school.
At your age I became...
I was fifteen...
...and my life was reduced to one square inch.
The pain was nonstop.
But I was too young to know it.
One night, it hit me.
My sister said to me:
"One day you'll see how great it all was. "
She was right.
It was scary but beautiful.
You'll have precious memories too.
But you can't stay here. I'll see to it.
"A painter.
"with a feel for tits and ass.
...is a saved man. "
Says who?
Renoir, Auguste.
Who else?
Did you do the blood test?
Not yet.
I'll know Thursday, but it's a long shot.
For you it's 1 in 16.
Try harder! My mother's your aunt.
No sense of family!
Shut up.
I saw your nephews on Sunday.
Ivan gave me those pictures.
Damn, they're growing fast.
Baz is in kindergarten?
Unfortunately you can't see those kids.
It's a great age. You're missing out.
Tell Elizabeth! Afraid of upsetting her?
Have you seen the dragon?
She's no dragon. She's a paper tiger.
She growls, but doesn't bite.
It's been a month.
She asked me for lunch with your parents.
She canceled. Something about her son.
So I ate with your father.
And Paul?
Any news of him?
Never any news of Paul.
No news of Paul since he turned 6.
She built a wall around him.
He's a lonely kid.
- They took his blood. - That's bullshit!
How could his blood help?
- The thyroid? - What morons!
One morning I received a form from Abel, for Junon's tests.
We all got one.
When I saw the vials of blood...
I wanted his chromosomes checked.
Paul is compatible.
And you?
I'm not.
Paul has to go before the committee.
...to get permission to be a donor.
What does Claude say?
This morning he was against it.
Paul doesn't know.
I'm waiting for my results.
We'll wait for my kids to do theirs. Henri too.
Henri's a bastard.
This house is my husband's.
He inherited it the day we were married.
We've lived in it ever since.
Over the years we've fixed it up.
It's become very comfortable.
Abel and I are elderly now... and we still live here.
This is the armchair where Abel reads his paper.
That's the table where I write my letters.
Our children no longer live here. They come for holidays.
The grandkids play in the attic as their parents did.
Five years ago, Elizabeth banished her brother Henri.
...and the house became less lively.
Thanks to my disease, we're being reunited.
Paul is having trouble. We're preparing for his arrival.
At the hospital, our doctor.
...has inquired at a tissue bank in San Francisco.
Abel and I are still looking for a compatible donor.
Nana!
We got shots!
It didn't hurt. I didn't cry.
The needle made me laugh!
- Will we have scars? - No.
- Hang up your coats. - You're real men now!
Baptiste made the doctors laugh.
- Say it! - I can't!
Go on!
I can't!
I said: "Set me free, murderers!"
And you cried, honey.
Good going! Hang up your coats.
Why are you old when your wife's young?
Because I like my women very young.
When I met Junon, I asked for her hand...
...and she married me.
Okay, then.
Out of me and Basile, will I die?
Silly question. You're not sick.
Not like Junon.
If a car crashes into Baptiste and kills him?
If you walk outside the crossing.
...and get hit by a car...
...the spanking I give you.
will be so ferocious that even death will run away!
Today Basile and Baptiste did their tests.
We'll have the results on Tuesday.
Want to talk to them?
Stop it!
Your mother's hitting on me.
I can't do two things at once!
- Is that my boy? - Yes, it's Ivan.
No, she's fine.
You know, there's nothing tragic about this.
It's degenerative.
With the kids here we have no more sex.
Not true!
A little less...
Get lost!
So call me with your results.
And don't forget to remind Henri about his test.
See you and Sylvia on the 22nd.
Mom sends her love.
Poor Ivan.
His wife is lazy. She's a burden.
What's you mean?
The mother of a family with all those kids!
Come on!
She only has two and you had four!
But Sylvia's dreary, isn't she?
I'm very fond of that girl.
True, she helped Ivan...
She's no saint. Trust me.
The lot I want...
You have an item...
...an emerald demi-parure...
...starting at 25,000.
Here's a friend.
Sorry, bad time.
Not at all, young man!
I'm your nephew.
Shit!
Paul?
You're not at school?
I couldn't care less.
It's strange, seeing you.
Did you know Junon needs a transplant?
And did you do your test?
Look up. Ivan bawled me out.
I'm guilty and I don't give a fuck!
I'll do their test and send Junon the results!
Come for Christmas.
I was in the psych ward. I had a breakdown.
Go home. Tell your mom you came.
I'll call Claude tonight.
Fri. 22 December THE LETTER
Elizabeth...
...at your son's tacit behest, I'm coming home for Christmas.
What words can we find to pave over 5 years of banishment?
None, I fear.
Or else they require an inner strength you lack.
My same old principle:
Don't act beyond your capacity to repair.
Junon can get away with anything because she can repair everything.
Others can do little, besides be forgiven.
Hence, you and your husband.
were both overindulged.
But the excess, madness and violence.
...of this new family structure.
...have reached limits I never imagined.
We're in the midst of a myth and I don't know what myth it is.
What will happen at Christmas?
Nothing, of course.
But once named...
...it's easier to endure the discomfort.
...and to hide under a cloak of boredom.
I know few people despised as much as I.
It never ceases to amaze me.
Yet I imagine on some level it's what I wish.
As I set down word after word...
I smile, thinking this letter straight out of...
...a Kafka parody: A good beginning for a story.
We're almost there.
- Are you all right? - Yes.
- Almost there. - Thanks.
All these attempts at mental and social assassination.
...by some happy twist have turned me into a character.
...and my life into a novel.
Four years of seeing my parents in cafe in Paris.
...because my presence stank and I didn't know why.
Being tolerated by my aggrieved kid brother...
...like a prisoner on the lam.
Hearing that, when my sister wasn't denying my existence...
...she was a driving force.
...in the wildly indecent attacks fomenting against me.
All this is badly described, through the stupid prism of my solitude.
No more words are necessary.
What words of yours.
...could achieve sweetness without sentimentality.
...after such a mess?
The voice can perform more...
"I swear," as we say in court.
This last, confused paragraph.
...is to say I know this letter calls for no reply.
You won't find the words.
...and I don't mind.
It's just that.
I see you today with fraternal pity.
Reckless sister, you have offended your blood.
Like a girl with a broken vase...
...you cannot fix it.
It's not your fault, nor the vase's.
Just a silly game that backfired.
Henri.
Where's Ivan?
Late.
Working...
And were you working?
What's that?
Paintings. For Abel.
I'm ridiculous.
Here he is.
I've been waiting an hour!
- I don't deserve you. - Yes!
No, I don't.
- You run away. - I do not.
- What goes on in your head? - Nothing.
- Are you unhappy? - Yes, I am.
- Constantly? - Yes, constantly.
- Because of me? - No.
How are you?
On December 22 in the train to Roubaix
I stared at Ivan and his cousin Simon, both asleep.
Junon had called beforehand with instructions:
Speak softly, don't play with Paul...
...keep Ivan's friends away.
- Not even Spatafora? - Nope.
Keep our boys from their schizophrenic cousin.
Fun Christmas ahead!
We go to him, or else no drugs.
- That sucks! - Tell me about it.
You hole up like old folk.
I don't like to go out. Fear of excursions.
We prefer to hole up.
But I'm very hospitable.
Papa!
There was a glowing review of your latest play in the Nord-elair.
Your husband is doing terribly well.
And Paul?
At the house.
Since he got out, he hasn't found his bearings.
Poor little Paul.
After Christmas, he'll go back to an institution.
It's nice he wanted to see his uncles.
The train stopped in Lille.
They smoked a quick cigarette.
You understand, I need to help the kid.
Paul's lost it, like I did at his age.
But I wasn't put away.
He's young and locked in that prison.
I had to free him!
At 16, I couldn't help myself.
It was Henri and you.
So now when I help him, I'm helping myself.
Understand?
I haven't spoken to Henri in a while.
I'm nervous. Your brother's unstable.
When I was 20, I tried to help.
It's a shame. He showed such promise at school.
Can't you two make peace?
I delight in his decline.
I'm not criticizing but I'm not blind.
You're distant.
No one dares speak to you.
How typical!
Enough about Henri, Mom's sick!
Don't blame me! You always wanted a perfect world.
Well, your brother was not perfect.
And your son is wobbly.
Paul found out he's compatible.
- Paul? - Yes?
What are you doing?
Nothing.
It's dark in here.
I refuse to be holed up!
I won't do the play.
The play's great. The kids love it.
Speak to Henri?
Yesterday on the phone.
Gets in the 24th.
More!
You're heavy!
Look at this bandit!
Let go of him.
Sylvia!
- Can I hide this? - What is it?
Fireworks.
My baby!
My nephew!
Where's Paul?
Waiting in the living room.
You're here.
Sorry, kid.
- What room? - The attic.
- The office! - I'm fine.
- Can I help you? - I'm okay.
The kids are downstairs.
Where's Elizabeth sleeping?
Upstairs.
And Henri? Here or at a hotel?
One thing at a time.
Tonight Elizabeth's in the flower room.
...and Paul's in the children's room...
...not far from his mother.
You'll take the boys with you.
Tomorrow is another day.
Are you okay?
Sorry, I'm taking their room.
Why?
I have to sleep alone. They go in Ivan's room.
Sorry to bother you. I'll be a sec.
I want to get something.
My stash.
This used to be my room. 1000 years ago.
Little drink.
Sorry, my medicine. I take Haldol.
It's nothing. I know it.
Like vitamin C. May I?
The mattress!
She's asleep.
She always sleeps.
Family trait.
Easy.
Elizabeth!
Come on, sister, get up.
- It's 4 o'clock. - Already?
We're here.
Did you see Paul?
Come join us.
No peace and quiet!
What madman is ringing the bell at this hour?
Pain in the ass!
You could have told us when you were coming.
I'd have picked you up.
I didn't know!
I rented a car...
...found a girl and brought her.
Can she stay?
Excuse him, Miss.
Abel. Pleased to meet you.
Faunia.
How can a pretty woman like you be with someone so impossible?
Where's your wife?
Go say hi in the kitchen.
Your mother!
Stop or I'll wash your mouth out with soap.
My brother! Hello!
Good evening.
This is easy. Last time I saw you, you were 3.
And you, I saw at the hospital.
You saw him at the hospital.
So you're Basile.
And you're Bastien.
Baptiste!
Forget already?
I'm Henri.
No duh!
I got the names wrong, but I recognized you.
You keep changing.
What happened to you?
I got held up. For six years.
Abel's wife...
Faunia.
He never calls me his mother.
Welcome. No one's ever mentioned you.
You neither.
I'm the one with cancer.
That I know.
I wrote a toast for later but I'm thirsty!
Terribly thirsty. I need to drink.
Be nice, kids.
Some wine for your alcoholic uncle.
Yes, I need wine. I'm back. I need to drink.
You okay?
Where did you find her?
Not bad, huh?
- Growing a beard? - Just exhausted.
Bad week. And I learned I'm not compatible.
Welcome to Arcadia, friends.
- Sorry already? - Lay off.
Cursed wolf!
Paul's too old now, but for the kids...
"Medium".
How right you are!
Abel and Simon turned up their noses.
- Was he there? - I don't know.
He must be hiding.
Must be on holiday.
My cousin Paul. You know him?
Sure.
Hi.
Stop plotting in front of me.
Go deal with your tree.
The chandelier!
Hi, beautiful.
Hey, bandit.
Faunia... Sylvia.
My grandmother.
Joseph, my older brother.
Junon's brother.
That's Simon as a kid.
This was his father.
And she was your wife.
Madeleine.
What a strange name.
Where was this taken?
Milan.
We met at a conference.
Got married. It lasted a month.
Then she had the car accident.
She was pretty.
Lousy driver.
It was nice here, before.
It's changed.
- I'd like to drink to Paul's health. - Right.
I loved our vacations.
No one believed you were my grandson.
You took my hand and called me Junon. I loved that.
Honey... Did you get some rest?
I sleep well here.
Women need sleep, mothers especially.
Some grape juice will do you good.
Thanks.
Hello.
Easy does it!
No way! Sober for Christmas?
No reading at the table!
No one's talking. I'm bored.
I have some good news.
I'm finally back on my feet after my wife's death.
I'm getting remarried.
No, just kidding. It was a joke.
Sorry, it was in bad taste.
When I marry, I don't bring good luck.
I'm not marrying anyone, but I did my blood tests.
Turns out I'm compatible.
Dear mother, you can count only on me.
Thank you.
What a creep.
I wouldn't take your marrow.
I wouldn't offer it to you.
Can I go to bed?
How can you stand his behavior?
He likes to joke around. That's how we met.
Simon!
I'm grateful.
This is unbearable. Henri was lying in wait.
You did well.
Get to sleep!
Your prescription is complicated!
- When is the committee? - I'll call tomorrow.
- I'm not going. - Why?
Your brother is doing it.
You've been a real trooper. Braver than him.
If I were Junon, I'd choose you.
Does Henri annoy you?
- Are you okay? - Yes.
- Here. - Thanks.
Still don't love me?
I never did.
Same here.
- I wasn't a very good mother? - No.
I loved the others a bit. Less than Abel did.
Abel loves Elizabeth, period. The two boys...
I was in love with your sister too.
Maybe I loved Ivan too.
Because he was so damn ugly.
- I was an ugly child too. - You? No!
I was.
And me?
- You? - When I was born...
You, I can't remember.
No memories. Do you have memories of me?
I remember when your brother died. What year was that?
I liked you then.
You were on the veranda. I came out to sit on your lap.
I remember your dress, beige, like velvet.
I climb up...
Yeah, I think I liked you then.
You were three.
And afterwards?
- War. - All out.
But I won.
- Not yet, son. - Excuse me.
You have myelodysplasia. I'm perfectly healthy.
And you need my bone-marrow.
You're so pretentious!
Paul is compatible too.
Paul, the lunatic?
Are you kidding? He's an idiot!
Says you!
I'm compatible with lots of people.
I'm a very easy-going woman.
People enjoy my company.
Even a grandson I barely know is compatible.
You're all alone and I'm very popular.
And you may still find other donors.
I don't want that white stuff shot into me.
From you, to boot!
My blood type may even change.
- Want to call Dad and run away? - No.
Here.
I don't like this stuff.
I wish I made you proud.
I like you as you are. I am proud.
I fail at everything.
Elizabeth...
My little Jew.
Why do you say that?
Because you're my little Jew.
Where it hurts.
Here.
Where it hurts when you bang yourself.
The tip of the radius.
Andre called it the "little Jew".
What happened?
My little Christian went all Jewish.
I have no idea. Keep your lingering anti-Semitism.
My handsome little Jew!
I'm the only Catholic in this house.
You're a little Jewish.
You okay, boy?
My handsome little Jew.
Are you upset?
Who's upset?
Are you bored?
Terribly.
My bag is in the trunk.
I have to change at some point.
You didn't tell us.
His girlfriend is a bombshell.
Faunia?
See that ass?
You did.
You bet! It's like Angela Basset's.
Not very observant for a painter.
What do you think?
About what?
Christmas, you, Junon's transplant, the kids.
You kidding? I want to leave!
No way, kiddo.
It was hard enough getting you all here.
You're staying put!
Of course.
Too bad we rarely do this.
What?
Family get-togethers.
Get out!
With Henri and Elizabeth...
I'm caught amid a tribal war.
We missed him a lot.
I thought he annoyed you.
He's my brother. I like him.
What did he do to Elizabeth?
I shouldn't tell you.
Modesty forbids me from telling you.
No idea.
He must have been a monster.
- Sylvia, please! - It's not uncommon.
All brothers try it.
If it were that, it'd be easier.
Maybe Abel knows something?
When you were 16, did you sleep with Henri?
I guess it didn't leave much of a memory.
And my cousin?
- Never. - Are you sure?
Of course.
Because Abel finds you hot too.
Not at all.
If you've screwed every man here, I should know.
A family of weirdos!
The Vuillards are a strange lot.
Not at all. We're ordinary people.
Exactly. You always says you're ordinary people.
My father has a dye factory. And my mother's a housewife.
Even Grandma wrote schoolbooks!
She was homosexual.
See? Not a leg to stand on!
Elizabeth is ordinary.
Your sister? She got the Fields Medal.
Her husband did.
She's written five plays.
That's true.
You all read music. You all play instruments.
Even my kids write plays.
The Vuillards pretend they're normal and they're not.
That's weird.
I think I'm common.
You have deliciously strange things in some places.
Elizabeth?
You're not talking?
Hurry, please. I can't stand it.
Your brother's a dick...
...but my beating him up won't help any.
Paul sees the committee tomorrow.
I'll be there.
There are five of them. The pediatrician...
...the anesthetist, a psychologist, I think...
The head of the committee.
I can't remember.
Are you crying?
It's so humiliating for him.
Do that again and I'll dump you.
I know.
Stop humoring me.
It's true. I was humoring you.
Lyell's Syndrome:
Skin inflammation, bullae...
...sloughing of skin membranes...
...death by asphyxiation.
When the burns worsen, the patient leaves hospital.
...and is entrusted to a Burn Unit.
It says the host can burn alive.
Let me see.
It's not in French.
It is. You read too fast.
It's very clear.
They don't say "burn alive".
They talk about evolving inflammation.
I don't want to evolve like Joan of Arc.
I'd rather die of a nice cancer...
...than combust before you.
Good night.
Sat. 23 December REUNITED
Simon!
Spat!
- Come down! - Chill, I'm coming.
Hey, sonny.
Good to see you.
- Health? - Never better.
- Family? - Cool.
Love life?
I stayed here.
- Can we go in? - Not really.
- Elizabeth's son. - Paul?
He's not doing well.
And Junon is sick.
I heard that.
So no guests this year.
Give this to Junon.
Is Elizabeth in?
She is.
Give her a kiss.
- How's Sylvia? - Cool.
Coming tonight?
- Where is it? - The gym. With Ivan.
Later, sonny.
Girls!
Presents!
Spatafora.
Stolen goods, no doubt.
- It's nice of him. - He is nice.
Since my son's hospitalization and Junon's disease...
I've been calculating nonstop.
Risk of mortality linked to transplants: 5 to 200/0.
Risk of relapse: 15 to 300/0.
Probability of recovery: Between 40 and 500/0.
But the risk of acute GVH reaches 500/0.
I won't mention anything.
This is Paul. Have a seat.
Are you okay?
Have a seat.
Are you there?
Henri, is Anatole in the cellar?
He's gone out shopping.
How stupid of me!
Who's Anatole?
You're new in the house.
Anatole is the wolf. He lives in our cellar.
At this time of year he goes skiing.
Who named him Anatole?
Grandpa and Nana named him Anatole.
He used to live with Rosaime.
Now he's here.
Sorry to ask, honey bun...
With the life you like to lead.
...is a transplant possible?
I have no idea.
I'm compatible.
Otherwise...
What's this?
I can't remember what I wrote.
There's still a tiny chance that Junon's not sick.
You're pessimistic.
Survival increases life expectancy.
This is what you're scared of:
The doctors kill a healthy woman.
She'd lose 5 years without being sick!
For now, statistics say you'll get worse.
It's all hypothetical.
You can't keep reasoning in segments.
Counting from one year to another.
Junon is going to die at a precise moment.
Not on an anniversary.
So?
Getting hurt or dying are absolute events.
You don't die a 10 or 120/0 death. You get the entire event.
The game is on, like it or not.
You either treat it or you don't.
You die or you don't.
You're playing the game.
Go from the discrete to the continuous.
The ratio is not one half.
500/0 equals 1 minus exponential minus lambda.
Lambda, the logarithm of 2.
The survival formula is an integral.
...from zero to infinity...
1.45 years.
No transplant gets you 6 more months.
In the same way...
with treatment, this increases to...
3.7. Now...
weigh your living 5 fewer years with its low probability.
...against 2.3 extra years with treatment.
weighed with a higher probability.
- And you get... - May I?
Be my guest.
Sick or not, if you're treated.
...you gain about 2 years.
That's better.
You'd rather pass.
Your only freedom is to bet.
The committee gave their approval.
Paul can be a donor.
Thanks.
Mom...
Be right back.
Sorry.
You have serious relationship problems.
It's a total downer. Let's be objective.
Never a kind word for my girlfriends. I was kicked out.
Yes, honey!
You make Junon cry.
And when you were too young, you stupidly fell.
...for a man constantly in flight.
Then you have this child...
And I learn from Ivan...
Shut up. I'm here.
I know but you don't count.
Come on, Claude!
This is stupid.
Sorry!
With Elysian strides, off to the Champs-Elyses!
I'm not staying here.
How noble!
We were proud of you, Henri.
Imperial!
Where's Faunia?
Next door.
Keep still.
It's true. Your son wanted to jump out the window last week.
Your husband arrives.
...then abandons you on a whim.
Seriously, you send everyone running!
I was almost done!
Unbelievable! This is unbearable!
Was I disrespectful?
You hurt everyone...
Get lost!
Ah Miss, you're throwing your life away!
I'm not so sure.
Yes, I'm fucking up. Yes, I drank.
Do as you please.
With you or without, I won't survive.
I'm totally wasted.
Want to know my shortcomings? They're all over.
Want to see my first communion?
My first school fight?
Sorry but the holiday is a disaster.
My sister treats me like shit!
Junon's off to the hospital in three days.
You'll come at a happier time.
...but please, beat it.
Take my car keys and get lost.
What was she like?
Who?
The one who did this.
Madeleine.
What was she like?
The opposite of you, I think.
Did she ever come here?
She never had the time.
I was starving.
Make me a coffee?
Dad...
- Leave me alone! - Are you crying?
No, I'm not crying.
Three weeks ago there was no treatment.
Solitude and disease.
I break my back to get everyone here.
Even Henri came. He's compatible.
Your son is compatible.
And she acts like a princess.
She's fine with cancer in her liver...
...but no skin rashes!
It's infuriating!
I married her because she was brave.
I don't care.
You're all terrified?
Why?
At worst she rejects the transplant.
It can be a lot worse.
Your marrow is going to take over her system...
...replacing it with a growing hybrid.
Not you, not your mother. A chimera.
Head of a lion, body of a goat, tail of a snake.
That's GVH.
It's born in the host and takes control.
It can be beneficial.
...but if it goes mad, it will hate the organism.
It will destroy its organs...
...its bones, its nerves.
Anything.
- Who taught you all that? - Butt out.
When it wins, it dies with your cadaver.
Where is she?
How should I know?
At a florist, a yoga class...
Who is she with?
She disappeared. On a whim.
- I'll find her. - There's no point.
We fought all night. She's as stubborn as an ox!
She's decided to go untreated.
Very grim.
I'll be an hour.
I'll wait in town. I'll walk around.
Be careful.
I mean it.
I see something. Here's a nodule.
A nodule? Thank you.
You smoke too much, Mr. Vuillard.
2 packs a day and I can stop whenever I want. I drink too, a lot.
Yes, it shows.
Is it a problem?
For the transplant it'll do. It's risky for you.
I'm not addicted.
I'll go cold turkey. I don't give a shit.
You may get the DTs during the operation.
You're not in good shape.
Gimme the damn form.
Hi.
I thought I'd go shopping in Lille.
Want to come along?
Just so you know, I prefer not to speak.
I have limited contact with my family.
I'd prefer even less with those of my lovers.
No wonder.
Is your disease serious?
Yes and no.
The downside is I can die.
Do you have the organ donor form?
I lost it!
It has to be filled out and signed.
Thanks.
Sorry but with all the girls Henri brings home...
I get a bit confused.
I have no idea what to give you.
I'm not giving presents.
I'd prefer not to get any.
- Why not? - I'm Jewish.
You're not giving anyone anything?
Not the kids? Not me?
Not even Henri?
No.
It's time you told me what you did.
...to make Elizabeth hate you.
What can I say?
No idea. I never saw it coming.
I was obnoxious from 5 to 17.
But you know, I was born that way.
Come on!
You surely did something.
There was the thing with the babysitter.
I was helping her watch Paul.
One thing led to another and we soon lost track of the time.
I ended up bare-assed, screwing the girl in the dining room.
No big deal!
So why cut me out for 6 years?
- Hi - Hi.
You don't like Sylvia...