Yes?
Pierre, there's an urgent call from France.
After the concert.
It's about your mother.
Yes?
Do you remember me?
Fond de I'étang.
"My father is coming for me on Saturday."
Pépinot.
Of course.
Pépinot.
- How long has it been? - About 50 years.
Fond de I'étang.
You're the little guy in the front row.
And there you are.
Do you remember the prefect's name?
Clément Mathieu.
I wonder what happened to him.
Open it.
"Fond de I'étang.
1949."
Mathieu kept a journal while he worked at Fond de I'étang.
That's his story. Ours too.
He wanted you to have it.
I'd have preferred to deliver it under different circumstances, but...
"January 15, 1949.
After failing for so long in so many fields,
I was sure the worst was still to come."
It was a boarding school where troubled children were rehabilitated.
That's what the advertisement said.
Fond de I'étang.
Even the name seemed to fit me like a glove.
Hello.
You're all alone?
What are you doing there?
Waiting for Saturday.
Why?
My father is coming for me.
But it's not Saturday.
Pépinot.
Hello. I'm Clément Mathieu, the new prefect.
Have you done this type of work before?
I taught some classes in private school.
- What did you teach? - Music.
You'll like Rachin, our headmaster. He used to play the trumpet.
- Hello, Pépinot. - Hello.
His daughters. He lives right there.
- You haven't met Mr. Rachin? - Not yet, no.
- Mrs. Boissemand recommended me. - Really?
That was old Maxence.
He told me on the spot that he was the school watchman,
as well as its nurse, storekeeper and glazier.
- What is he doing? - Serving detention for Mr. Rachin.
Fifteen days of community work. In other words, school drudge.
What kind of children are they, exactly?
- No one told you? - No.
My infirmary. I'll show you my vegetable garden later.
I'd like that.
- Damn it! What have they done now? - I'll help you.
Are you Clément Mathieu?
The headmaster...
Rachin, the school's headmaster.
Headmaster, I'm sorry...
- Yes, you're late. - I had the wrong bus schedule.
Punctuality is essential here.
Very well.
Headmaster.
Very well, Headmaster.
Come with me.
First you should study the school regulations,
then you can supervise the 4:00 study period before you...
What are you doing? Answer me.
- Take this. - It's my eye.
Another trap. You can appreciate our boarders' finer instincts.
Get him over there.
I'm blinded.
Don't make a fuss. Show me.
It's not pretty.
Ring the bell. School assembly.
- We should call a doctor. - Do you know how much they charge?
What did I say? Ring the assembly.
The bell?
Next to the door, right in front of you.
All right.
Assembly.
- Are they always like that? - Keep ringing the bell.
Two abreast.
Everybody in the schoolyard. Assembly.
Hurry up.
Move faster. Be silent.
- Chrome Dome. - Be silent.
Be silent.
- I didn't say anything. - Be silent.
I called this assembly
because of a despicable attempt against old Maxence.
Under our action-reaction rule, the culprit will be severely punished.
I want the culprit's name within the next three seconds,
or it's six hours of lock-up for each one of you.
Effective until he's betrayed or gives himself up.
Is that clear?
One...
Two...
Three.
No volunteers?
Of course. Come closer.
- Mathieu. - Me?
Come closer.
The school register, Mr. Chabert.
Thank you.
Mr. Mathieu, your new prefect, has been spared your acquaintance.
- Chrome Dome. - Be silent.
So he can choose who goes first without bias.
Be silent.
Pick a name.
At random?
- A word of advice... - Don't interfere. Go on.
Boniface.
Too bad. Chabert, get Boniface.
- Sir, I didn't do anything. - Shut up.
- It's lousy, I didn't do anything. - Watch your language.
Move.
- I won't go. - I'll kick your backside for you.
Be silent.
Furthermore, until I've found the culprit,
there will be no recess and no visitors.
I advise you to give him up quickly.
It's an encouragement to turn informer.
You're full of noble illusions like any new staff member.
Come see me in eight days.
You'll be replacing Mr. Régent. He'll explain your duties.
Clean sheets.
Thank you.
Why are you leaving?
Ten stitches.
Cut with scissors.
Just for confiscating Mouton's cigarettes.
- Mouton? - The boy's name is Mouton.
And Mouton's still here?
By the way, Le Querrec booby-trapped Maxence's door.
I heard him talking about it in the corridor.
- And you didn't say anything? - I didn't want to miss the bus.
Old Maxence punished him for breaking some glass panes.
Simple revenge. That's just his style.
Le Querrec.
Don't forget that name: Le Querrec.
- Morhange too. - Yes.
Morhange doesn't talk much, but keep an eye on him.
Looks like an angel, acts like the devil.
Action-reaction.
That's all they understand.
They're all yours.
- Good luck. - Thank you.
Our benefactresses.
The timetable's over there.
Classes were shared between the headmaster,
who taught French and History,
and Mr. Langlois, who taught every other subject.
Mr. Langlois, here's the new prefect.
Clément Mathieu.
- A prefect at your age? - Yes, but I used to teach.
Very well then.
And he's the funny one.
Take your study period. You're late. No need to show you the way.
Watch out. Chrome Dome's coming.
Gentlemen.
No smoking during class.
The rules apply to everyone. Even you, sir.
Give it back.
Be quiet.
Give it back.
Be silent.
Give it back.
An auspicious beginning. Congratulations, Mathieu.
Sit.
Of course.
You again.
What did he do?
Nothing, Headmaster.
What do you mean, "nothing?" You were about to punish him.
I asked him to go to the blackboard
and I was just telling them to be silent.
Not a minute too soon.
Don't make me come back.
Stand in the corner.
Very well.
Now that you've come to know me, we need to set things straight.
Right now, one of your classmates is in lock-up.
For no good reason.
I may not look like much but I'm no fool.
I know who did it.
He has 15 seconds to give himself up.
I'm waiting.
You'll regret it. Five seconds left.
Too late.
Le Querrec.
Who is Le Querrec?
I am, sir.
What a surprise.
- You hurt Mr. Maxence. - No, sir. I didn't do it.
- That wasn't a question. - I didn't do anything.
Between the two of us, I wonder who the headmaster will believe.
I need someone dependable to keep an eye on things while I'm gone.
According to my sixth sense, that dependable student must be...
...Mr. Morhange.
Come on, come on. Who is Mr. Morhange?
That's me, sir.
So you're the angel.
Go down. You'll supervise the class while I'm gone.
Go on.
Nice. You could pull out your shirt a bit more.
I'm told the rebellious have strong leadership skills. Prove it.
Come to the headmaster's office.
- Have mercy, sir. - Mercy?
What about the boy who's taken your place? And old Maxence?
I didn't want to hurt him. It was just a joke.
A joke?
...a little stint in lock-up. I've had enough of you.
But first, I'm going to give you the flogging of your life.
- Who is it? - Leclerc.
He's tried to run away three times. He's taking him to lock-up.
- So you won't be alone. - Don't.
Maybe we can come to an agreement.
You hurt Mr. Maxence. Badly.
I won't take you to the headmaster but I have to punish you.
Instead of fooling around during recess, you'll work in the infirmary.
You'll be old Maxence's nurse.
You'll look after him until he's cured.
All right?
Not bad.
What do you think?
But I can do better. Give me the chalk. Stand in profile.
Profile.
Let's see a smile for a change.
You can look now.
I almost forgot... Some color would be nice.
Much better. Get back to your seat.
Very well.
I want to get to know you, so you're going to write your name,
your age and your dream job on a piece of paper.
I was astonished when they all did as they were told.
All except one.
You're not writing?
How long have you been here?
A long time?
I don't know.
Write, little fellow.
An exhausting first day.
I forgot why I came here in the first place.
Rachin scares me, the building scares me, even the children scare me.
I keep expecting them to slip into my recess and murder me.
My blanket.
- Got a cigarette? - Shut up.
Go to bed.
I read the assignments again.
They all had fabulous dreams.
Two firemen, three cowboys, one tiger tamer, one fighter pilot,
two spies, a general under Napoleon, one balloonist, three legionaries...
Not one school prefect.
It was nice of you to volunteer to be my nurse.
Doctor, the new prefect asked for a volunteer to take care of me.
And he raised his hand right away.
Proof that we should believe in miracles.
Come in.
Mr. Mathieu, the new prefect.
So?
It's pretty bad, Maxence.
If they've started attacking you, they're beyond help.
You're so patient with them.
I've got a thick skull. You shouldn't be feeling sorry for me.
I feel sorry for those poor kids. Don't forget one of them is dead.
Dead?
His name was Mouton. He jumped off the roof.
Good thing he was an orphan.
Look at him. Everyone says he's a lost cause. It's not true.
He's a good boy. You just have to know him.
Old Maxence is a nice guy.
I'm talking to you, Le Querrec. Don't you think he's nice?
No?
Yes.
- I didn't hear you. - Leave him alone. He's shy.
Like me.
One, two, three, four...
Faster.
Yes?
- I'd like a word, Headmaster. - Leaving us so soon?
- No, I'd like to try something. - You don't say.
About the accident.
- That was no accident. - Quite.
I need three things from you.
- Is that all? - One, cancel the group punishment,
two, let me deal with the culprit, and three, don't ask me for his name.
You'd have to know it first.
Naturally.
Your arrogance astounds me. Do you really think you'll find him?
Very well. If you succeed, I'll cancel the group punishment.
But you'll never get the culprit or I'm the biggest fool in nature.
I know who did it, Headmaster.
Congratulations.
Who is it?
You said I wouldn't have to tell you.
Fine. Very well then.
But I don't like your manners.
You'd better make sure your students behave.
- I've already got them under control. - That's what you think.
One, two, three, four... Go on.
Faster.
- There's no pictures of naked women. - I never said there were naked women.
What does yours say?
"Ave Maria for soprano by Clément Mathieu."
I've got, "String quartet...
...by Clément Mathieu." - Looks like music.
- What do you know about it? - Maybe it's Morse.
- Or some secret code. - Maybe he's no prefect.
Maybe he's an undercover spy.
Chrome Dome.
Give it back to me.
- What is it, sir? - None of your business.
Is there a problem, Mathieu?
No problem.
It's just music.
What for?
A chorus.
In the water closets?
Clear out, chorus.
- Not here, Mathieu. - What?
- Don't play the idiot. - You're not suggesting...?
I won't say anything this time.
- You really see evil everywhere. - In here? Yes.
Baldy, you are through
The rules won't be made by you
Baldy, you are through
The rules won't be made by you
Chickening out, guys?
- You're Corbin. - Yes, sir, but I didn't do anything.
- You were singing. - No, sir. I swear.
You were singing. Badly. And you couldn't even tell.
Go on. Sing.
I'm listening.
Would you prefer to sing for the headmaster? Go on.
Chrome Dome Prepare to meet your doom
You're not the boss of us
No one ever told you you couldn't sing?
Sir? Is that really music in your satchel?
Mind your own business.
By the way, if I ever catch one of you messing with my things...
...he'll be very sorry.
Now be quiet. Time to go to bed. Hurry up.
It's over.
Go to sleep.
I couldn't get their ditty out of my head.
They're not very good at it, but they are singing.
I even spotted a few good voices.
Are those kids really a lost cause?
And I had sworn never to touch my music again.
Never say never.
Nothing is ever truly lost.
January 23rd.
One week after his accident, old Maxence suddenly took a turn for the worse.
The doctor sent him to the hospital.
Is he going to die?
No, we'll save him.
The very same day, Pépinot got into trouble.
Mr. Pépinot, you're a dunce.
Final question. The last one. How did Marshal Ney die?
I'm waiting.
Hunting?
Zero.
One hundred lines by tomorrow: "Marshal Ney was shot."
Get out.
Boniface. Come here, boy.
Here, as a reward for your essay.
Give it to Mrs. Marie and you'll get a cookie.
You knew Ney had been shot, eh?
Of course, sir. Just like Napoleon.
Get out.
Hold on, Mr. Morhange.
I saw you taking notes during class.
This is a rare occurrence indeed. Bring me your notebook.
Charming.
Read it. Admire the spelling.
"Mr. Rachin eats shit by the bushel."
He wrote "Mr.?"
No.
Action-reaction, Mr. Mathieu.
Lock-up.
Come on.
- Gentlemen, enjoy your meal. - Thank you.
Are you hungry, Pépinot?
Now you can eat.
Pépinot?
He's an orphan.
His parents died during the Occupation.
- How did they die? - I don't know.
The kid thinks his father will come for him on a Saturday.
No one ever comes on Saturday.
So we tell him he'll come next Saturday, and so on.
It'd be easier to tell him the truth.
We must have told him 100 times. He won't listen.
Now we let him wait by the gate. Let him enjoy himself.
Be quiet!
Did you see that? Action-reaction.
Meaning?
Action.
Reaction.
There's a visitor for young Morhange.
Morhange is in lock-up.
No visitors for the punished. You know the rules.
Go tell his visitor then.
Good day, madame.
Good day.
I'm the new prefect.
I'm Pierre Morhange's mother.
Clément Mathieu.
I know this isn't the right day, but it's the only time I could...
- No, that's not the problem. - Has he been punished again?
No, nothing like that...
...but he's not here.
What do you mean?
They took him to the dentist. He had a toothache.
A toothache?
Yes, but nothing serious. He'll be back tonight.
I can't wait. I'm going back to work at 5.
Can I leave something for him?
Of course.
Her name is Violette. Violette Morhange.
A single mother at her wits' end about her son,
a thieving introvert expelled from school because he kept running away.
When Pierre was sent to Fond de I'étang against his mother's wishes,
she told the judge, "At least he'll get a hot meal twice a day."
January 30th. The experience begins.
In Brittany, the hats are...
In Brittany, the hats are round
That's why I'm Brittany bound
Soprano. Go left.
Leclerc.
He is born, the Holy Child Let us greet His coming
Almost in tune. Alto, go left.
Delaire.
Three miles on foot What does it use?
Three miles on foot eats up your shoes
Do it again.
Four miles on foot What does it use?
Four miles on foot eats up your shoes
I was right. Bass, go right.
Ricoeur.
I've got tobacco in my pouch
I'll give it away, not today
Smoking is strictly forbidden. Alto, left.
Illouz.
Love is a gypsy child
That obeys no one's laws
Soprano, of course. Left.
Very well. Pépinot.
I don't know any songs.
That's fine. I'll teach you some.
In the meantime, you can be Assistant Chorus Master.
Over there.
Boniface.
Marshal Pétain, here we are
- Who taught you that? - My grandfather.
A little old-fashioned. Left.
Clément.
Citizens to arms Display your charms
Enough. Right.
My camp counselor's a jerk
He doesn't do any work
Go left.
Cuckoo, booboo Cuckoo, booboo
Good. Alto.
Strong beat.
Show me, Corbin.
Sorry, there's no such note. Come here.
Mr. Pépinot, hand me the score.
Thank you. Open your hands.
Hold them like this.
Good. You can be our lectern.
Baton, Mr. Pépinot.
Thank you.
Get ready. On three...
Again.
That's it.
One, two, three, four.
Le Querrec's on bread and water...
Every night, I make them practice a simple tune of my own.
Carpentier has lost his way
Fond de I'Etang is where we're stuck, just our luck
Fond de I'Etang is where we'll be for all eternity
Not bad.
It wasn't Mozart, but I had their attention now.
From now on, I would need the support of my superiors.
What?
A chorus?
Yes.
My poor man, you've completely lost it.
A chorus. You won't get a single note from them or I'm the biggest fool...
Please, Headmaster, don't finish your sentence.
Why not?
They're singing already.
Really?
Just a few notes.
Why ask my permission if you're already doing it?
I don't like your manners.
- Headmaster... - You're annoying me.
I have other things on my mind.
Very well. I enjoy a good laugh.
Make them sing.
But if everything goes sour, you'll lose your job.
Thank you for your support, Headmaster.
February 8th.
As we begin rehearsals, Rachin starts on Morhange.
As soon as he's out of lock-up, he lowers the axe:
one month of community work.
From the beginning. Get ready.
Hey, skivvy. Don't forget my bed.
February 15th.
We're visited by Dr. Dervaux, a psychiatrist.
He brought us a gift.
We've decided to take this boy out of St. Féréol Reformatory
to study his capacity to adapt to a... more liberal environment.
Unlike most of his classmates,
Pascal Mondain has begun to read and write.
At any rate, he can speak more or less normally.
We assessed his potential with the Binet-Simon Test.
The Binet-Simon.
We also administered the Rorschach and Drüss Fables.
- Excellent. - As you know, this test...
That test sorted children into seven different categories:
normal, adequate,
borderline, mildly, moderately or severely retarded.
And finally, imbeciles.
Mondain scored within the borderline zone.
He isn't actually mad, but I should warn you...
According to his profile, he's a gregarious pervert.
Interesting.
And what does that mean?
Well...
- Doctor? - A tendency to be cruel, parasitic,
destructive and above all... Above all, a mythomaniac.
- There you go. - The place is full of them.
Here the children face non-specialized methods of discipline.
Mondain's integration will provide a good case study.
Happy to oblige.
We'll try to meet your scientific requirements.
Gentleman, this fellow is in your hands.
- Will you stay for lunch? - Gladly.
Take good care of him.
Action-reaction.
You're not allowed to smoke.
For the experience to succeed, I had to get the upper hand.
You really look like an idiot.
You'd better behave or you'll get what's coming to you.
All right.
What's coming?
You probably know a song, right?
Yeah, but...
But?
You won't like it.
Why don't you try me? Come here.
Come on.
I'm listening.
One summer day I took out my knob
To give myself a nice hand job
- All right. - Up yours I go
All right.
Told you so.
Not bad.
You'll need to practice, but you have a good baritone.
What?
Baritone. It's not an insult.
When you sing, your voice is low-pitched.
Go to the back with the basses.
- Fuck. - And forget about the fucking.
Next one to laugh gets punched out.
Whenever you're ready, Mondain.
He's allowed back in class.
And here's Pépinot. You forgot him by the gate.
What's wrong, Pépinot? It's not Saturday.
By the way,
when you write to your family...
I don't have any.
Well, for those who do,
remind them that visits are on the first and third Thursday of the month.
Morhange, you're not paying attention.
- What did I just say? - I don't know.
I said, you could write your mother telling her that she can see you
on the first or third Thursday of the month. Or even both days.
Understood? But the punished can't have visitors, so be careful.
I don't want to see the old goats.
Maybe Morhange wants to see his mother.
Maybe he's not the only one.
See, Morhange? We have a real chorus.
- I don't care. - Why don't you care?
Let's hear your voice. Sing for me. Do...
Go ahead.
You want to go back? Your range, quickly.
Coarseness doesn't suit you, kid.
We can't all be like Mondain.
All right. From the top.
- Where are you going? - I need to pee.
Mondain, wait.
- Corbin. - Can I go pee too, sir?
Fine, everyone out.
And be quiet. Quiet.
You have a nice voice, beautiful.
Want a drag?
They left you all alone?
I'll protect you.
Wait for me.
We're the same.
My parents are a couple of buggers.
Your mother's the same.
She got rid of you to have some fun.
No, she's working.
- So the others are telling the truth? - What?
They say she's a whore.
I'll rearrange your face.
Get out.
You're a dead man.
Really?
That day, Morhange missed the 3:00 roll call.
No one ever knew where he went, but he'd come back.
That was the important part.
What are you doing there?
I can't go up.
What do you mean, you can't go up?
Why not?
I have no money.
You need money to sleep? That doesn't make sense.
It's Mondain.
He won't let me come up unless I give him money.
We have to be careful.
At my last place, the prefect caught me.
- So I had to take care of him. - How?
With a bayonet. He bled like a pig.
- You killed him? - Kind of, yeah.
It's no different here. Chrome Dome had better watch out.
- Mathieu isn't so bad. - Yeah, right.
They sing you a lullaby and when you're asleep, they start pawing you.
We've got to kill their kind.
Good evening, gentlemen.
- Enjoy your meal. - Sir, I swear I didn't do anything.
You keep good company, Corbin.
Get out.
Forget about the feast.
I won't tell on you. A gift.
But I'm warning you: don't speak to Pépinot again.
Don't go near him. Don't even look at him.
Do you understand?
One look in his direction, and your life will turn into a nightmare.
See on your way
Forgotten kids who've strayed
Give them a helping hand
Lead them to new horizons Help them understand
Feel, in the depths of despair
A surging wave of hope
The fervor of life
The glorious path
What are you doing, Morhange?
Nothing, sir.
So I heard voices? I must be tired.
Section 8 of the interior rules:
Students will not enter a classroom without supervision.
Mr. Rachin would make you do 100 lines by tomorrow morning.
And who knows what he'd tell your mother.
I don't give a damn about my mother.
- Why? Tell me. - I'll tell you nothing.
Wait. I'm not through. That's a little too easy.
You pay for everything here. Ask Pépinot.
Morhange, strangely enough, the things you do don't resemble you.
Running away, fighting, pretending to be a hoodlum.
Your classmates may laugh, but I won't. I'm not playing along.
Starting tomorrow, you will attend every chorus practice
and take a music lesson every day. Go to bed now.
Go on.
March 3rd.
He can't possibly know, but I do. His voice is a miracle.
The rare promise of an exceptional gift.
Please go out quietly.