BABIN
The following story...
... takes place in a time when there was still time.
Everlasting time.
Forever.
And even thereafter.
It was in olden times.
That night,
the village of St-Élie-de-Caxton
was buffeted by strange skies.
Labour was already underway.
It was a time when the weatherforecast
was still read in the lines of the sky...
... when love was still measured
by the petals of a flower.
A time when tales were still told.
Tall tales
about our outrageous little world.
That night,
in the village of St-Élie-de-Caxton...
... a legend was born.
Anytime now, Toussaint.
What's going on in there?
Mrs. Gelinas's about to pop.
Finally!
That child might even have a moustache!
It's not mine. I'm not delivering -
it's the witch. She's screaming like a banshee.
She's roused the whole neighbourhood.
So get the doctor!
The doctor's tending to a dying man.
You're it, Toussaint.
Me?! I-I-I...
I-I-I don't know the witch from that end!
No time for assurances.
The fate of a fathered foundling is at stake.
When the bell tolls unaided,
it always portends a death in the village.
Not widowed again...
So the doctor told me...
if I had another one,
it would be the death of me.
Imagine.
So I told my husband,
''I'd sure go for a 'little death' tonight!''
So I got big again,
and figured the only way to avoid getting pregnant again
was to not deliver this one.
Now, ma'am...
...push. Push...
Push!
Jesus Christ on a crutch...
Ma'am, if I were you,
knowing the doctor was busy dispatching someone today,
I'd have waited till tomorrow to give birth.
My God, keep it down,
or mine'll pop out!
Lard tunderin' Jesus,
Mary mudder o' Jesus in da garden...
P-p-push...
Push harder. Nothing's happening.
He's spinning like a top.
Easy now!
Pull back!
Turn down the old oven,
'cause I'm not so sure that bun's ready!
Come with me.
You scared too?
It's like she's unleashing magic.
I'm afraid she'll put a curse on us!
No, my fear is that this child's half-baked!
I don't know if it's the temperature,
but he seems underdone!
Too late now.
Tell her to push - she'll deal with it later.
And I'm no expert, but it looks like he's coming out back asswards!
Come on, Toussaint!
That's not his butt crack, it's his smile.
There are two little eyes on top.
Congratulations, ma'am.
It's a beautiful boy.
I think I'd feel better if he cried a bit.
Don't you dare ever harm that child.
Mark my words.
We'll take care of him.
Yes, ma'am.
Babin was born on a dateless day...
... for no astrological sign wanted to claim him.
As though the stars had abandoned him to his fate.
To Toussaint Brodeur would fall the job
of being his lucky star.
The Village
It took 20 years for people to realize the story had begun.
At that time, St-Élie-de-Caxton encompassed a thousand trades
and a thousand miseries.
There was a witch,
a draper, a doctor,
a notary, a baker.
There was Mrs. Brodeur,
the local shopkeeper,
and her husband,
Toussaint Brodeur,
fly breeder
and inventor of inventory.
There was Riopel the blacksmith, a widower,
and his daughter,
Anna Domini,
who had been carved out of a gold ingot
and plucking daisy petals
since she was old enough to dream. - He loves me...
There was Mrs. Gelinas, who due to the lack of contraceptives,
avoided pregnancy by not delivering her last baby.
For years, she'd been holding that one in.
A real bulkhead, that woman.
There was Meo, the hair-undresser,
who got paid in local booze and collected locks of hair.
A barber of scurrility.
Then there was...
Babin,
the village idiot.
For, at the time,
every village had an idiot,
and every idiot a village.
In St-Élie-de-Caxton,
he was the village idiot.
Hey, Babin...
Come in. I've been expecting you.
Never mind the boots;
the floor's covered in hair.
Huh? Sit down,
I'll rearrange yourface.
Tony says you used to make
big, fluffy, yummy-looking cakes.
Your big brother's just pulling your leg.
He says it's 'cause of Babin.
You can only make flat cakes since you helped his mother pop.
What'd you tell them?
Some say you've lost your baking touch
since you helped the witch with her bun.
I didn't think it was that bad.
If you don't like it, say so.
I think it looks fabulous.
Well, well, Father Time!
Hello, Mr. Bellemare.
Hello, my good Babin.
How are you today?
Babin, we know you love Father Time.
Talk to him - he's right here!
Dear Babin...
... so very docile and polite.
If everyone was like you,
life would be reason enough to smile.
Nice haircut!
Well...
unlike ears, hair grows back.
It's a pocket watch.
It tells time.
You like it, huh?
When I'm gone, it's yours.
But you'll have to take good care of it,
so time never stops.
Promise?
Promise.
Babin had just made his first promise.
He had made it to the old priest,
whom he loved like a father, provided one has one.
Come in, children! Come in!
Hello!
Hello, Mrs. Gelinas. Can I help you?
Yep. I need flour.
Five pounds of white flour.
Forwhite cake.
A real picker-upper.
Still, if you cut out the sauce...
.. you'd cut hair better.
I hardly ever drink in the moming anymore.
Thems who want a nice trim around the ears
just have to come early.
Villagers don't even know the time!
No one has a clock within a 20-mile radius.
Who needs a clock to make a morning appointment?
Huh? Okay...
The usual. An inch all around.
Layered?
Just a wee bit.
What?
You know, I used to think
you might've changed brands of flour, but now...
... now I understand.
What's that?
Don't you find...
the witch's son...
seems kinda strange?
I noticed that long ago.
He doesn't talk much, he's quiet as a mouse.
Poor Babin...
... he seems very well-behaved for his age.
They say he's been seen
making incantations and hand gestures.
I think he's inherited his mother's gift.
Think so?
I'm telling you, much -
though we may not realize it - has changed in the village
since his birth.
Since I found out Babin has his mother's evil ways,
I try to get him out of my chair lickety-split.
Scandal-mongering!
Such unfounded rumours will end up breaking
this poor, vulnerable, delicate young man.
Unfounded?
Seems to me being a witch's son is founding enough.
Babin's mother is an herbalist.
A simple homeopath.
She may be a homeosplat, but she's still his mother.
Babin was growing up.
He was only appreciated as a scapegoat -
for nightmares, misfortunes,
wrongs and failings.
What if I told you Riopel the blacksmith told me
he's bumed toast every morning
since that boy was born. - Come on.
As if a little boy could bewitch toasters.
You never know.
It was Anna Domini.
In love.
A Nobel Prize winner of love.
Why'sAnna always crying?
Her little heart is torn.
It's streaming down her face.
Never been in love, have you, Babin?
Babin's mother could read smoke.
She was a fortune-smoker.
Don't cry, Anna Domini.
The war, my love...
Promise you won't give up your life to it.
Promise you'll still love me when you return.
Promise!
Pluck your daisies, my dear - you'll see I love you.
I checked every flower
to make sure each stem had the right number of petals.
I promise always to love you.
So?
Stop twisting your stomach in knots, Babin.
It's because of another guy.
The Great Fire
You'll look like a shooting star.
I'm going to Meo's. - To get drunk?
To get hair.
I need a dozen long black hairs to run my new fly model.
Is it so urgent?
They'll be fireflies.
People will be amazed!
You can take a dozen hairs...
... from me.
No way, sweetheart.
No one will touch a hair on your head.
I gotta go to Meo's.
Babin carried the weight of the sky on his frail young shoulders.
He had a heavy heart,
because the endless fall
heralded no snow.
This morning, I saw nice big icicles
hanging from the church roof.
This'd be a good time to take them down.
Tonight's the full moon.
They'll glow with light. You can't miss them.
- Moon ribbons! - That's right.
Pick the glowing ones.
The thinner, the better.
With those, we'll weave a lovely border of white snow
to cheer you up.
Thin, thin, thin...
Hey, Meo.
Well, well, a fly in the ointment!
Must be the full moon.
Late November and it already feels like last February.
Come warm up. Take off your coat.
How about a little holy fire water?.
It'll put hair on your chest!
I wouldn't say no.
Cheers.
I can't stay long, Meo.
I came to you for hair.
You've got a full head of it.
I'm looking for black hair about 12 inches long.
What for?
Can't tell you yet.
Can't tell me? Then I can't give you any.
Jeez, what a hair-trigger temper!
I'm not asking for a scalp, just a dozen hairs.
It doesn't work that way, Toussaint.
My clients expect professionalism.
They trust me blindly.
If anyone everfinds out,
it's my head on chopping block.
It's not me,
it's my-my-my ethics.
Ethics!
In the capillary system? -Yes!
Let me in.
I've come to declare my love again.
To know if your heart is mine alone.
The blacksmith, a widower,
whose broken heart remained torn asunder,
who secretly licked his wounds
over the widow of St-Barnabé-Nord.
Ma'am?
It was open-heart surgery.
Iron hands in search of velvet.
See, this one...
... is Father Time's.
It's awfully long.
He's growing out his bangs.
I cut it right here 'cross his forehead,
where the name of the father, the son and the Holy Ghost...
- But I need black ones. - Hang on.
This one's...
Anna Domini's.
Just what I need!
Thanks, Meo.
Have you heard...
the latest rumours about Babin?
Some say...
he turns into a werewolf during the full moon.
Don't tell me you believe that gossip-mongering?
No way.
I should hope not.
Ma'am...
Well, well, Babin.
What are you doing here in the dead of night?
Collecting ice needles
so Mama can weave snowflakes.
I thought you had a storm in store for us, Babin.
Good night.
Steady now.
The room's covered in petals, Anna.
You'll cry your eyes out bawling like that.
Before bedtime,
I plucked the petals from a daisy to see if he still loved me.
And?
He doesn't anymore?
The last petal tore in my hands, Papa.
Tell me...
... was the petal plucked before it was torn?
I think so.
Well, then, cheer up.
Once it's plucked from the heart...
... anything can happen.
It will never change the outcome of love.
It's the moment it's plucked that counts.
Sing The Lost Canadian for me, Papa.
Please.
It will help me sleep.
A wandering Canadian
Banned from his hearths
Travelled while crying
In foreign lands
Wake up, dear!
The fire bells!
The village is buming!
The church!
We have to stop the fire!
Calm down, Babin! There's nothing we can do!
- What happened?! - Fire!
I don't know. No one was around.
I first heard of it
when Babin rang the bells. When I got here,
flames were shooting out the windows!
Father Time!
Father Time isn't in the presbytery. - We looked everywhere!
Could he still be inside?
My Father Time!
Father Time's my friend!
My friend!
Get out, Father Time!
Been here all night, Babin?
I was crying for old Father Time.
Mind telling me what happened here?
I wasn't here.
Where were you?
There was nothing do be done. It was a raging inferno.
I swear, we could feel the heat all the way to my house.
It was a close shave.
What's he doing?
Looking for Father Time.
You ask me, no one could survive that kind of heat.
All right...
let's go to my place for a drink,
raise our spirits
and analyze the tragedy.
Coming?
I'm still crying.
Babin was searching.
He firmly believed that promises
could perhaps escape the flames.
Mama?
Obtaining Favours
What are you doing?!
It's for Father Time!
I told you never to touch that book!
It contains magic. Forces that must remain dormant!
- He'd be less dead! - There's no good reason!
Never touch my grimoire again.
Put that cock in the cupboard.
It reeks of spirits.
The moon ribbons melted, Mama.
The New Priest
Is this the see of Trois-Rivières?
Quiet, children! It's long distance.
This is Toussaint Brodeur of St-Élie-de-Caxton!
Of course it exists. We live here.
I'm calling to report our old priest's death by fire.
He was pretty old...
Not to brag, but we used him up pretty good.
We supplied him with sins as best we could.
His exact age?
Tell him he was old.
Listen, we don't even know the time,
much less the year.
He was practically bald as an egg.
Well, offhand, I'd say he was about 100.
I see...
We'll try.
Okay, thanks.
He's toast.
So?
They have to see it to believe it.
They'll replace him provided we send proof he's really dead.
We'll send them a piece; it'll have to do.
Maybe if we found a piece intact,
we could ask the witch to bring him back.
Does the witch actually do such things?
I know she cures toothaches -
I don't know about resuscitation.
Toussaint...
Oh, my goodness...
I recognize it.
His right foot, too - the one he used most.
We'll send them that.
You see, Babin,
I like fishing, but I'm afraid of water.
So rather than risk drowning,
I fish on my porch
and don't bother nobody.
Just for fun.
Right.
Sitting quietly with a pal
there's nothing like it, you hear?.
You hear me, huh?
Of course.
You're practically my son.
I brought you into the world myself.
That's why we're so close.
'Cause I was there the day you were born.
Wait for me, Tony!
I saw smoke coming out...
of the presbytery chimney.
I think we've got a new priest.
Come, children, let's go see.
My dear parishioners,
I shall be your new priest,
to guide you to the Last Judgment.
This deadly fire bodes ill for the village's future.
The wrath of God is upon us.
The message is clear.
The end of the world is nigh.
In an attempt to save what remains salvageable...
... work will start immediately
on a new church.
Also, for the cleansing of souls,
we have already set up an emergency confessional,
right behind the presbytery.
My dear parishioners,
though I cannot save you all...
... I at least undertake
to find the guilty party
who made an attempt on the life of my colleague,
your former priest.
And the penalty...
... will be terrible.
He seems sterner than the last priest.
More uppity, too.
Bless you all.
Your bishop has returned...
this... parcel.
To whom should I give it?
The boot! The boot!
This young man has volunteered to dig the hole
in which to bury the old priest's boot!
Father,
there may be more bits and pieces;
we haven't sifted through all the ashes.
So the hole shan't be filled until we have everything in hand.
Now get to work.
You can keep it.
He suggested the end of the world
was just days away.
The apocalypse...
It really terrifies me.
I don't think I'd make it.
What are you talking about, you wussies?
Let me tell you:
if the end of the world is coming, we're in no danger,
'cause we're 15 years behind the rest of the world.
Tell him that.
Besides, if they're building another church,
we're not about to die tomorrow morning.
I'll rebuild his damn church.
See? Now there's a worker.
Cheer up!
Since you went to heaven in your slippers, Father...
... I'll put your boot in the hole, in case it snows up there.
Babin took it upon himself to set everything to rights.
He had managed to salvage the boot...
... and the snow. - Careful, children!
Okay, guys, c'mere!
Who is this young man who volunteered
to dig the hole for the boot?
Babin.
The witch's son.
Witch?
No... she's a midwife.
She's pretty middling, Toussaint.
That woman's never set foot in a church.
They say she communes with thunder and sees in the dark.
Well.
We'll be cleaning house in the parish, dearfriends.
We'll have to punish the guilty...
... and make the others guilty.
Say what you will about the new priest,
but he's got vision.
I wouldn't trade places with the arsonist!
Enough with the witch hunt.
This may have been just a random accident.
You'll have to take good care of it...
... so time never stops.
It's like needles on your tongue.
Clodhopper, c'mere!
It's your turn!
Clodhopper!
You gonna pee your pants?
I dare you.
The priest!
Who dares?!
Who?!
You?
You dare desecrate my palate?
Attacking me is attacking the entire Church!
This isn't over, you son of a witch.
Get over here!
This'll teach you! Come on!
Come, children.
You shall get out
when you've eamed forgiveness!
Anyway, we'll see.
Babin's been nabbed!
What'd he do?
He tried poisoning the new priest.
- He peed in his milk bottle. - Hey, you!
He's locked up in the confessional.
I've come to get you.
Come, Babin.
You okay?
Mr. Brodeur!
I'm so sorry!
You're impeding my work!
You call that priests' work, locking people up in the john?!
This man tried to poison me.
- Sure it was him? - He was there.
What about the others?!
Babin isn't the only one who pisses around here!
Everyone pisses, Father!
You've ended up in a village of pissers!
You are despicable.
And Babin's the village idiot! We have to take care of him!
He's community property!
Well, your asset better beware.
I will tolerate no further transgressions.
And I will be watching.
Here, Babin.
It's okay.
It's nothing personal.
It's just out of spite.
So?
So I can't stand him!
He's been here a fortnight and wants everyone on their knees!
He'll have to get used to us standing tall!
We'll have to get used to it, too, husband of mine.
He certainly meant no harm.
But look at him! He doesn't deserve this!
Listen, Babin.
It's almost New Year's Eve.
We'll show you in your best light.
What do you say?
The night of December 31,
we'll go around every house, to offer everyone our best wishes.
- To give wishes. - Exactly!
They'll love you! You'll see.
The Charge
I see you love cooking, madam.
What's cooking?
Ayouth potion.
Your son, Babin,
also enjoys brewing such concoctions?
He's forbidden to meddle with that.
Are you aware your son is suspected
of committing criminal acts?
Criminal?
My son has a good heart.
What if I told you he was caught...
relieving himself in my milk bottle,
madam?
I wouldn't believe it.
Where was Babin the night of the fire?
It was the full moon - he was out.
Where was he, madam?!
None of your business!
What precisely was he doing?
He was already ringing the bells when I got there.
And... you were among the first to arrive?
Yes.
We can thus conclude that Babin was first at the scene of the crime?
You're right, Father...
Seen that way, you might be right.
He set the fire.
I didn't say that. I said he was jerking the bells.
Were you trying to hang him?!
Stop.
See, Babin, you simply have to respond ''you too''
to everyone offering you best wishes.
That way, you're sure to get it right.
You too.
You too!
Let me look at you.
A real accountant!
You look great, Babin!
Just one more thing, okay?
Got any mints?
Thanks. Raise your arms.
Arms down!
See? You'll smell like a rose - and spearmint!
Go on,
now that you're ready.
Hurry back...
before next year.
Bye!
Which way we going?
Look at the stars, Babin.
Always follow the stars.
We've come to wish you Happy New Year.
May all your wishes come true.
Lookin' good, Babin.
May you go to heaven when you die.
You too.
I wish you love, Babin.
Yes.
St-Élie-de-Caxton.
Of course it exists - you sent me here.
Yes, well, I think I'm on the right track.
... a long and happy life, Babin!
You too.
I would like more information
on the disease afflicting those with a penchant forfire.
Pyromania! That's it.
A burning obsession.
You'll see,
your mother will be proud.
We've come to wish you Happy New Year.
Peace be with you, my son.
You too, Mama.
Happy New Year, Babin.
You too.
All Babin wanted...
was to be somebody.
But, slowly,
the word of others won out.
You too.
Okay, Babin, okay.
Okay, that's enough.
Babin became a living legend.
Like someone developing an illness...
... he became a metaphor for the village's lungs.
Easy now.
We're happy...
Let's not destroy anything.
Father,
we've come to wish you Happy New Year.
Thank you. Very kind.
I wish you one too,
full of wisdom and reason,
Mr. Brodeur.
As for you, Babin...
... I wish you...
were less of an idiot,
You too.
Unbelievable! What kind of behaviour is that
for a priest?! - Calm down, dear.
Getting angry won't help.
Tell him that! He's the one always blowing his top!
He grabbed Babin by the ears and dragged him inside like a dog!
Then he slammed the door in my face
and said he was holding him indefinitely!
What are the reasons compelling you to take action
against representatives of the Catholic Church?
Are these reasons strong enough to set fire to a church
and make an attempt on a poor old priest's life?
- He's my friend! - Hand on the Bible!
And don't lie before God!
Was it not you who found the boot at the site of the fire?
Far be it from me to want to frighten you, Babin,
but all evidence points to you.
- I didn't do nothin'! - Liar!
We know you were not home the night of the tragedy.
We even have proof you were first on the scene!
It was for moon ribbons.
We need a culprit, Babin.
Without enough evidence to convict you...
... we shall have to blame another in your stead.
Your mother is a witch, I hear?.
Not Mama.
Not Mama... - Confess to your crimes
and you shall spare your loved ones.
Not Mama.
In light of all the facts,
there can no longer be any doubt.
This is a case of acute pyromania.
Come on! Babin has never done wrong!
Babin is thus found guilty...
... and sentenced to death.
Condemning a man for such a crime should be up to a judge!
I would have preferred calling on a judge,
but we have no court of law.
We must thus leave it to divine justice.
Especially since the accused
possesses powers of witchcraft
inherited from his mother.
Witchcraft?
You're an ignorant fool!
Are you not in possession of the sacred weather cock
of the former church?
Yet another good motive for arson.
My son recovered that from the ashes...
... in memory of a sensible priest!
You, Brodeur-
are you not the proprietor of a general store?
Well... I'm making a living!
You shall supply a good rope.
I hereby declare you chief executioner.
You're not going to hang my son based solely on a weather cock?!
Come!
Once and for all -
did you set the fire?
Leave me alone, dear.
What's happening?
It so happens I'm leaving the church!
I'm renouncing my baptism
and getting deblessed from head to toe!
Blasphemy!
You ask me, the church can burn right to the ground -
we'd all be better off!
'Cause at this rate, they'll hang us all in God's name!
Babin is found guilty
of arson,
attempted poisoning...
... and murder.
He shall be publicly executed
by hanging.
But before proceeding with the execution,
as is the custom,
Babin will be granted a last request.
Any last wishes...
... now's the time.
Stay there, little baby.
Stay inside.
It's better at Mama's.
I never would've thought
Babin was the firebug.
Nobody's perfect, Meo.
The people closest to you
always hurt you most.
He may have been a spirit of vengeance without our knowing it.
Stay strong, Babin.
Stay strong.
Going once...
Sad to say, but I never thought I'd get to see this.
Twice...
Poor kid,
he'll be stuck in limbo forever.
Going...
I think death is a bit much.
Gone!
My leg...
Again!
- Are you okay? - I said, hang him again!
No way!
By law, anyone who survives the death penalty
is automatically set free!
But it was a miscalculation!
Yes, but it's the law!
Next time, I shall use another rope supplier!
Come, Babin.
Don't touch my son!
You almost killed him.
But he's not dead, ma'am...
he hurt his leg.
You'll end up breaking his spirit.
Look at the rope.
Sometimes the only way to save a man
is to side with his executioner.
Babin...
was a small dreamer who reaped only the fabulous.
And again...
the spot in which he had planted Father Time's watch..
... was already sprouting a strange shoot.
Amen.
- My friend Toussaint. - Hurry up, man.
We'll be late for Mass!
The whole world's waiting for him, ma'am.
Be careful.
He's still a delicate soul.
My soul is happy, Mama.
''You have heard it said...
''An eye for an eye
and a tooth for a tooth.''
I can't believe you set the fire, Babin.
Was it really you?
If not me, than everyone.
What do you mean, ''everyone''?
Or Mama.
Are you saying you confessed to arson
just to save others? - For Mama.
To save your mother?.
The new priest was mad. Real mad.
''Give to him who asks of you,
and do not turn away...'' - Come with me.
''... to borrow from you.
''You have also heard it said,
'''You shall love your neighbour
and hate...'''
I will not allow this criminal to attend the celebration.
He's not a criminal!
Shall we allow these murderous hands to befoul the body of Christ?!
You!
Would you condone letting the devil's spawn
sully this new church?!
Say something, Meo!
The church is big enough for everyone!
Plus, I just learned he coerced Babin into confessing!
What are talking about, Mr. Brodeur? Babin freely confessed!
You threatened him! You frightened him!
He had no choice!
This man is protecting
a dangerous madman and fanning the flames!
I wonder who the real firebrand is here!
You are eitherwith me...
or against me.
The Niece and the Clock
Babin didn't understand everything...
... but remained hopeful.
He clung to his little shoot,
drawing the laugh from the wheat.
We have to grow one another.
Here, Father, this will raise your spirits.
My dear Meo, I sometimes have regrets.
All those years of study
only to end up in a village of lunatics.
God is punishing me.
Some days, I don't know where to start,
cleansing this backward parish!
Come on...
you're making too much of it, Father.
Tell you what -
sit up straight,
I'll give you a nice haircut.
Anice scalp massage.
Sometimes,
just parting your hair differently can work wonders.
My good Theo.
I'll find the culprit if it kills me!
See? Better already.
And I've only just started.
He loves me...
he loves me not.
He loves me...
Hi, Anna.
Hi, Babin.
You're sniffling.
Hay fever?
It's not the daisies, Babin.
It's love.
Love?
Sometimes I despair that my lover will ever return from the war.
Love...
I'd like to go to war.
What are you saying, Babin?
Why go to war? - So a girl will love me.
Love isn't war.
What is love?
Well, love...
Love is...
Love sends a chill up your spine.
It wriggles from your bum,
tickling its way up your spine.
Like a snowstorm sweeping your backbone.
Will my back be cold?
It'll happen to you one day, Babin.
One day.
I see the hairdresser was up late last night, Father?
Contemplation is keeping me awake.
Something wrong, Father?
To be honest,
my parishioners sometimes seem to lack faith in me.
Mrs. Gelinas,
do you honestly believe I could have manipulated Babin?
To err is human, you know.
Don't I know it.
Like Father Time -
he was all too human, too.
Human...?
The blacksmith said he kept his loneliness at bay
with the widow of St-Barnabé-Nord.
He accused Father Time of devowing himself in the arms of a widow?
No, well...
whether he devowed or not, I don't know.
But I do know the blacksmith
blamed him for stealing his girlfriend.
So Riopel may have wanted to do Father Time harm.
A blacksmith is hardly pyrophobic. - Yeah.
Actually, he even bums his toast on a regular basis.
Scram...
I water you too, Father Time, but you don't grow.
Dear Father, our cousin,
as you know,
your niece is studying languages
at our peaceful Sisters of the Assumption Convent.
During summer vacation,
she showed signs of hot-bloodedness and licentiousness.
In order to offer her
a cooling-off period before classes resume,
we are having her spend her last week's vacation with you.
Keep her in the shade and away from radiators.
Sincerely yours, Signed...
This way, dear niece!
You have no reason to be here!
You were not invited!
You are a long way from home,
and I do not have time to attend to you.
This parish is dangerous, Rose!
Uncle...
You shall be confined
to the room upstairs until such time as you leave.
No one must know of your presence here!
Enjoy your week of rest.
Babin was reaping the fruits of his labours.
The shoot had reached maturity.
...should have it! - Liar!
The only thing I've seen like it is Father Time's watch.
Well, this is a clock, Anna.
It's like a fruitful hourglass.
- I know how it works! - Really? How?
This ain't no knitting needle, ma'am!
You making fun of me?!
Besides, who says that clock's right?
What's important
is that we're all in sync! - Enough!
It shall be mine.
This clock is ripe.
It must be uprooted at once and left at the presbytery.
- It's Father Time's time!!! - Babin!!
Unhand me!
Those who want the right time...
... will simply have to ask me at the presbytery.
Go on!
Do what you will -
the clock belongs to my son.
You'll have no hold over it.
The priest wants everything for himself,
but time should belong to everyone. - All I'm saying is,
it could've benefited the whole village.
I'd rather have time than the time.
- Ain't you the philosopher! - Anyway,
Babin still has the key for now. Babin...
With this key,
only Babin can wind the time,
When he stops, so will time.
Time will be your saviour, Babin.
Time.
C...
That's a G.
Almost there.
So, Father, how's your clock doing?
The hands have been stuck on 8:20 since its arrival.
Anyway, there's no hurry.
It's a little awkward for 9:00 Mass, but...
time is of no importance when one is in love.
You in love, Father?
Not me.
You?
I'm referring to the widow of St-Barnabé-Nord.
Did you not suspect Father Time of stealing the widow from you?
Since when are priests interested in the fairer sex?
Don't you take an oath of keeping-it-in-your-pants?
It's a routine question in a criminal investigation.
We are seeking a man with motive to eliminate Father Time.
I did have it in for Father Time.
And I did love the widow.
But is it right to kill a man out of jealousy, Father?.
Mr. Riopel,
where were you the night of the great fire?
Home.
At my daughter's bedside.
I spent the night singing all 115 verses
of the lament of The Lost Canadian.
I sang it to comfort us.
You stick this end of the key in the eight hole
and turn it a few times.
If it tick-tocks, it's fine.
It's the seconds smashing to bits.
Is that you?
It's me.
Babin!!!!!!!!!
... managed to enter my priestly chambers.
Fortunately, his plan was foiled.
Babin is thus guilty
of first-degree trespassing, of attempted clock robbery!
Due to the heresy of his acts,
Babin has also indisputably proven
he is the perpetrator of the deadly fire.
Excuse me, but could we hear the version of events
of the young lady you've been hiding
for the last week?!
My niece had to rush off last night.
Babin is thus found guilty
and sentenced to death!
Any volunteer...?
Are you only capable of condemning the defenceless?!
Enough!!
A volunteer for justice!
What will it take for you to stop hounding my son?!
A witch should avoid defying Catholic authority.
All right! If someone has to lead him to his death, it'll be me.
Out of the question.
You!
My friend--
There's nothing more I can do.
You have to go. - Where?
I don't know.
Anywhere.
Elsewhere.
Far away. That way.
Follow the stars.
Coming?
I can't.
I can't follow you, man.
But you'll always be here with me.
I felt a chill.
Yeah? With the niece?
With her mouth.
Good for you, Babin.
I'm proud of you.
Love...
is built on hope.
My friend...
Go on, get out of here.
Toussaint had blown it.
And Babin didn't even realize
his lucky star had grown dim.
The Bull
I've come for Babin.
He ain't here.
You set him free.
All Babin wanted...
was to be loved, Father.
What is it with you people, always wanting to be loved?
That's the sin of pride.
Pride!
We're not living in sin, Father, but in a legend.
Forget him.
I swear on a stack on Bibles, he's no criminal.
When your house bums down, Mr. Toussaint,
don't count on holy water to come to your aid.
Holy water...
Since tasting the mouth of the new priest's niece,
Babin only had eyes for women's lips.
Chills.
What're you doing?!
Go on, get outta here, kid.
While Babin was chasing celestial butterflies...
.... Toussaint Brodeur was looking for the fly in the ointment...
... trying to find where he went wrong.
Ladies and gentlemen,
please give a warm welcome
to the lovely Monia and her animals!
Holy moly!
Give a big hand of applause for the hen and her square egg!
Ladies and gentlemen,
the beautiful Monia
and her little horse!
Read this, ma'am.
It may save your son's soul.
Wake up!! Wake up!!
Fire!!
And now...
the highlight of the show.
Ladies and gentlemen...
... you are about to witness what few ever have.
It will amaze...
... and astound you.
Please remain calm and seated throughout the act.
For safety reasons...
... the lovely Monia...
... will require absolute silence.
My love?
I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, kid.
The big top's coming down.
I wanna stay for love. For Monia.
Wait here. I'll see what I can do.
Unfortunately, the lovely Monia can't see you.
But...
she asked me to give you this.
A lock of her lovely long hair.
For you.
Bye, kid.
Same here.
Go elsewhere.
That way.
Follow the stars.
Ma'am?
I know you collect your clients' hair.
I want every single one of my son's hairs.
I thought...
you'd come to get your hair done...
...for the church's opening ceremony.
Everything!
Now!
According to your wishes,
the owners of the hair will come find you today.
Come, my beautiful Monia.
The time has finally come for us to behold our completed work.
This majestic building,
whose bell tower will show everyone the way.
The threat gone, let us hope this church
will not be the target of another attack.
We are leaving a legacy...
... to future generations,
which can henceforth find refuge in this stone church,
symbol of ourfaith,
in life everlasting.
Babin.
- It's Babin's fault! - It's Babin's fault!
What did you do with this?!
What did you ask?!
You know what this is? It's bull hair!
Smell it! It smells of--
Love.
Easy, easy...
Nice bull.
It's Babin's fault!!
What're you doing?
Where you going?!
It's the apocalypse! I warned you!
The gates of hell are opening to consume the village!!!
It's the end of the world!!!
What's he doing?
It's a song I taught him as a child.
Asong that can make the sun set.
Everybody out.
We have to stop him, Toussaint.
Come on, Riopel!
The priest is gone, the bull is gone! He saved us!
The village is a wreck.
Are we gonna wait for more bloodshed,
for the village to bum to the ground?
This is the devil's work! It's do or die.
But it's my fault! My flies set the church on fire!
I'm the guilty one! - You're nuts.
Even your wife doesn't recognize you anymore.
In St-Élie-de-Caxton, from that day forward...
... a red sunset...
... has always been said to herald a beautiful day.
In accordance...
Stipulate...
Paragraph...
What's he saying?
- Notwithstanding! - Is that Latin?
A dead language is always used for sentencing.
The session is open, so shut it!
Listen carefully, Babin.
You're guilty.
Again.
You'll be sentenced to death one last time.
So you'll have to die for good.
All I can do for you...
... is let you choose your manner of death.
How you want to die.
It's your death, so you choose.
You decide, then decease.
Concentrate.
Take...
your time.
My friend...
Call me Toussaint.
Toussaint, my friend...
... I'd like to die by...
... time.
Today,
if many villages no longer have idiots,
many idiots no longer have villages.
Babin was sentenced to death by time.
By the passage of time.
He served his full sentence.
When he died,
he was about to celebrate his 276th birthday.
Babin will be remembered
in village gossip repeated forever and ever.
Through whim,
with whim,
and in whim...
... is unto thee, God the Father Almighty.
Babin entered eternity with a clock by way of a coffin.
All those who had condemned him were long dead.
In St-Élie-de-Caxton,
it was he who had been right.
The past had just been buried with our last village idiot.
Yet, in my village,
we still gather some nights to shoot the breeze...
... rebuilding legends
about our outrageous little world.
Reiterating that a certain idiocy
can extend life expectancy.
And we do our best
to ensure that tomorrow's legends
are even better than those of today.
dedicated to our ancestors
Translation and Subtitling: Danielle Gauthier, CNST, Montreal
Subtitled with the assistance of Telefilm Canada