A MATTER OF TASTE
What will you do?
Nicolas?
I'm talking to you.
I'm talking to you!
You fucking scared me!
- How? - Yelling like your throat was cut!
- What did I say? - I don't know. Fuck you!
Good afternoon, gentlemen.
Here...
while you wait.
- You're new? - I'm a temp, sir.
What are these things?
Various appetizers, all freshly made.
I don't come here to eat frozen.
I'm asking you what's in them.
What's in this?
I don't know. I can ask.
Why not taste it yourself?
Sure.
Problem, Mr. Delamont?
No, everything's fine.
Well?
Cheese? Fish?
Not at all. It's obviously...
chopped white meat, rabbit I guess,
mixed with black olives.
The combination is exquisite. In my opinion.
Delicious.
- What's your name? - Nicolas Rivière.
Thank you, Mr. Rivière.
He has pianist's hands.
And his nose. Did you notice?
I'm not so sure.
What struck me were his eyes.
He looks intelligent.
- Dessert, table 5. - What's up at table 2?
- Who's the guy? - Delamont. A prize customer.
- Prize nutcase. - Watch it!
Show some respect!
Gentlemen...
Mr. Rivière, unless you're set on being a waiter, call me.
I may have an offer for you.
Sit down. The doctor's coming.
The bumper issue of Steamy Sex, please.
Sorry, I just sold the last one.
Will Lusty Nights do you?
Stop fooling and help me lock up!
Where's your sense of poetry?
How nice.
Nice? Admit it, baby. I'm your walking Prozac.
Your sunshine on a shitty day.
- Your Romeo... - Okay, Shakespeare.
Bring that in before we get soaked!
See him in prison?
No.
Visits aren't allowed at this stage.
Sorry. It's the rules.
Why not?
I'm sure I can help him.
The best way you can help him
is by helping me to understand what happened.
I'm freezing!
Let's see.
- The wet dog look suits you. - "Wet bitch", you mean?
I want to go home and change.
Sure. Or we could grab a bite...
- You'll nurse me if I'm ill? - Promise.
Guess what.
I had a call from a Mr. Flavert.
Frédéric Delamont wants to see me tomorrow.
The guy from the restaurant? Never.
- Why? He's not the Pope. - You know who he is?
Sure. Delamont International, shaving cream, all that.
Mr. Big Ego.
Mr. Big Bucks, you mean.
I read about him in L'Express.
- You're into tycoons? - Not at all!
To me, they're like murderers.
One thing I know about him, he's weird.
I have to have a medical before we meet.
You're Mr. Delamont's private doctor?
That's correct.
He must be a tough customer.
I'm guessing. I don't know him.
Lie still and be quiet. I'm recording.
A Japanese battleaxe.
The Samurai used them to butcher each other.
Imagine the mess.
You're punctual. I like that.
Dr. Rossignon sent me your results.
They're fine... or almost.
"Bronchial trachea distended by tobacco abuse."
You smoke a lot?
It depends. A pack or more, sometimes two a day.
- How tall are you? - 1 meter 76.
I knew it. Come here.
Turn your back.
Without my heels, we're exactly the same height.
Weight?
70 kilos.
I weigh 76. I'll have to diet!
- Shoe size? - 42.
Amazing!
What work do you have for me?
I'd like you to be my taster.
Your taster?
Yes, I know.
I have René, my personal chef.
His food is absolutely safe. But I need someone like you
for my business meals.
This will do as an ashtray.
First, you'll shield me from any food containing cheese
or fish.
I can't stand them. An allergy.
See? It's easy.
And after that?
Not so fast.
I'll take you on trial for 3 months,
at 35,000 francs. Fair enough?
Why me?
Physically, you're ideal.
Not only your looks, but your aura.
Mysterious things, auras.
I hand-picked
several candidates. All rejected.
Too tall, too small...
Their hands. He was very sensitive to hands.
He hated chubby fingers.
And mouths, of course.
One man had it all. Height, weight, hands, smile...
but his lips were too thin for Mr. Delamont.
Not "greedy" enough.
You make it sound normal to hire a taster.
Did it never strike you as...
odd?
He had some strange ideas,
but was a remarkable man.
Of course.
And Nicolas Rivière?
I always thought he was a squirt.
From day one, in the restaurant.
He had a phony smile.
Read it carefully. Each word counts.
I'm paying you to be on 24-hour call. I need to reach you day and night.
- Night? - I mean it. 24 hours a day.
Notice paragraph 7 A.
It binds you to secrecy. Too bad you're not deaf-and-dumb.
How far have you got?
Paragraph 10.
I can't believe this.
You can't make me quit smoking overnight.
I can't?
It intrudes on my private life.
Pity. I guess that's that.
Your tarred-up taste buds are no use to me.
- I'll try. - Not good enough.
I need a guarantee you'll stop.
You'll have me watched?
Not you. Your lungs.
Rossignon will X-ray them monthly.
The last one. Before the gallows.
You'll be tailored at my expense.
My car will pick you up at 8 tomorrow.
I have a dinner engagement.
I look forward to seeing you work.
Stained glass, maybe?
It reminds me of Mexico. Béatrice, to be precise.
We met there. She was guiding a group of elderly tourists.
We've been together ever since.
So to speak.
Try the next picture.
You think I'm crazy?
I'm here to understand.
To help you understand what happened.
I have to memorize everything that's said at his business meals.
He's a weird guy.
Neurotic, I'd say.
Smoke?
I have to quit.
Why, is he anti-smoking?
No, but you've heard me in the morning.
Even I'm disgusted.
So?
Fancy me?
Nicolas.
Look at me.
Don't get trapped, okay?
Trapped? How?
I don't know. The money...
The comfort...
Going soft in the head...
You know me.
I'm just scouting it out.
Could be fun.
This is a real job for big pay. It's different.
It's simple. If I become a creep, reject me.
Your carriage awaits.
Shit...
I've got a hard on.
No, sir.
I'm sorry. You should sit in the back.
The front is fine.
I'm sure, but Mr. Delamont would disapprove.
Have you worked for him long?
Six years, sir.
Look, François... You're François, yes?
You can call me Nicolas.
- I'm on your side of the fence. - Not according to Mr. Delamont.
What did he say?
You're important.
I must take great care of your comfort and safety.
The pigeon casserole.
Taste it.
Divine.
Don't tell me. I know it by heart!
Can you taste something special in the sauce?
It's very smooth.
Garlic,
onion, a taste of lemon.
A special, unique ingredient.
You've a long way to go!
Philippe puts verbena tea in his broth.
- Of course! - You see, Nicolas...
I want us to have the same palate, taste buds
and sense of smell.
In a few months, with luck,
if we were to share a shoulder of lamb en musette,
I'd be sure without having to ask.
I'll see the same pleasure in your eyes.
May I ask you a question?
Let's call it professional curiosity.
Your dislike of fish and cheese.
How did it start?
My father had a cheese shop.
A big one.
One day, he sailed to Corsica with some business friends.
They boarded at Marseilles. That night,
he drowned.
The boat sank?
It wasn't the Titanic.
He felt seasick, leaned over and splash!
Some fishermen netted him a month later.
Eaten by fish.
Imagine the trauma for me, at 6.
How awful.
It's killed my appetite.
I'm really sorry.
You must be more discriminating about what I tell you.
Swallow it all, we're sunk.
Do I look like a shopkeeper's son?
No, but...
you're a darn good actor.
Bootlicker! You're worse than a waiter.
Mr. Delamont's relationship with Nicolas Rivière was... unusual.
Could you elaborate?
How can I put it? It seemed to me...
Mr. Rivière had a big influence on Mr. Delamont.
I have here
a copy of your employment contract.
You were hired as a chef/dietician.
Apparently, Mr. Delamont
lived in fear of certain foods.
Fish, cheese...
It was subtler than that, Your Honor.
His palate was so refined, everything had to be cooked in perfect harmony.
Cuisine is an art in itself.
You never thought it was an act?
To piss people off?
They share an apartment. Five of them.
Nathalie Guibert, a bookseller.
Félix Violet, assistant photographer. Works in advertising.
Top school, all that.
Marco Fanfani...
Forget them. Tell me about her.
Béatrice Simonin. Born in Angers.
College dropout. Studied English.
Shopkeeper parents.
Father died two years ago.
She's a newsvendor. Formerly a travel agent.
Been with Rivière for a year.
Look!
You bought that car?
It comes with the job.
Mr. Delamont hates his staff to use the Métro.
Stupid. It's much quicker.
He's scared of germs.
The Métro's full of them. You can catch diseases.
He's a head case.
Who cares? Enjoy, my Princess!
All aboard.
You know the manager of Supa-Save?
Across from my kiosk?
The nerd in the car coat?
Yeah.
He drives one of these.
He's very lonely. That's why I like him.
If you spend your life
mistrusting everyone, you get paranoid
or you hire a right-hand man.
I still don't get what you do.
My contract says I'm "personal adviser to the CEO".
- Show us. - Grill him, Marco!
What kind of adviser?
One time, we were eating out with these Japanese guys.
I felt him hesitate... about whether to invest now,
with the Asian crisis, and that.
- And you said "Do it"? - Yeah.
I wouldn't, and I'm an economist!
Your boss is sunk. He just hired his own torpedo!
Ignore them, love. They're jealous.
From now on, they'll snub us.
Careful! We're all closet capitalists, as we Italians say.
I'm in no danger. When did a newsvendor ever get rich?
Don't be dumb! Now's your chance to change jobs.
I told her that.
The pay's lousy, but I need my freedom.
It's the way I am.
No problem. Tell...
Tell Mr. Delamont I'm on my way.
- Shit. - Doing overtime?
What I can't figure out
is why he took so long to tell you
the true nature of his role with Mr. Delamont.
He was ashamed of his job.
Was that it?
Gentlemen, this is Nicolas Rivière, my taster.
Mr. Delamont told us much about you. We're very honored.
Shall we order?
No, gentlemen. Leave it to him.
What's your advice, Mr. Rivière?
The rice is immaculate.
Perfectly cooked.
Very tasty, with a hint of ginger.
So?
For you, I'm tempted
to suggest the chicken soufflé, but I fear it's too spicy for you.
The five-flavor pork would be better. It's very well balanced.
For you, gentlemen,
these excellent scampi with grapefruit and seafood.
Let's move it away from Mr. Delamont...
See? Nothing to it.
- Which sauce? - Not that!
Are you crazy?
Sorry.
Excuse me.
Forget it. It was an accident.
My fault. I was too hasty.
Disgusting!
Nuoc Mam is what?
Fish extract.
Yes. You couldn't have done worse.
Then again, I may be imagining it.
What do you think?
It was definitely
a very cheap soap with a carnation odor, but...
I swear there's no trace of fish.
Take this.
Should I taste it?
I don't need you for wine and liquor.
To our partnership.
Ever heard of René Rousset?
A top chef, now my personal cook. He'll take you in hand.
Let's call it
a short training session.
We'll do it in my family house.
Be ready to stay a few days.
- You live alone? - Yes.
I've never been able to face living with somebody.
We're so alike, it's amazing.
True.
Good night, Nicolas.
Had a good evening, sir?
Haven't been here for 15 years.
I grew up here.
Can't bring myself to sell it. Too many memories.
Ready for lunch?
It's going to be hard for you,
but this period of fasting will toughen you up.
When I was a kid, I fasted too.
- Your family ate here? - Rarely. Father traveled a lot.
Mother had weak nerves, so we never left Lyon.
We had to commit her. Ghastly.
I say that, but I didn't see her much.
Thank you, René!
Your fava bean and Parma salad was exquisite.
- Enough, thanks. - Don't spurn it!
That diet pill is full of vitamins.
Dessert next door?
No dessert. I'd love some myself
but I won't torture Nicolas.
It'll be my way of participating.
We must share pain
as well as pleasure, mustn't we?
Rossignon!
Rossignon! Are you deaf?
Your blood pressure's normal.
I woke up suffocating.
An anxiety attack. I'll give you a pill.
It's a recurring nightmare.
I'm 10 years old...
- I'll be back. - Stay, I feel better. Sit down.
It's this house.
I used to be scared of the dark.
They always left a nightlight on.
When Lili shut the door...
She was my governess...
I'd count to 100 and then...
I'd turn out the light...
and slimy creatures crawled out of the floor.
I could see them in the darkness.
In fact, I still do.
One floorboard ran across the room like a bridge.
I steeled myself, got out of bed
and started walking along it.
One false step and they'd devour me.
Then, one night
I heard my mother sobbing.
Whimpering like an animal.
I slipped and fell off the bridge.
The door opened
and Lili came in. "What are you doing?"
I was petrified.
My father had just died.
What freaks me is the isolation.
It's harder than I expected.
Locked in here for 10 days without even a phone.
It's like being in jail.
It's necessary, Nicolas.
See it as detox therapy. I want your body to emerge purified.
In town, one food shop and you'd crack.
But why can't I phone?
I told you. It's a retreat.
I'm giving you 3 days of my time.
I cancelled a big meeting in Tokyo for your sake.
- Is someone missing you? - Not really.
I'll get Caroline to phone them for you.
Not your parents, I presume?
You look run down.
You're drinking 2 liters of water a day?
Yes. I piss all day.
Good. Keep up the hydration.
My stomach's all bloated.
Breaking much wind?
That's normal. It's those diet pills.
If you have stomach pangs, take another tablet.
No abnormal constipation?
Is that a fucking joke?
Where is he?
You can't give me his number? Unbelievable.
Precisely. He said he'd phone me.
What? Who am I?
Mind your own business, for God's sake!
All right, call me back.
- Well? - Stupid bitch!
"No need to worry," blah-blah...
"All trainees get equal treatment, no private phone calls..."
Equal treatment, bullshit!
What are you scared of?
Nothing.
I just want to talk to him. Isn't that normal?
Where is he?
Good to see you, Nicolas.
You're wondering, why the formality?
To celebrate your return to earthly food.
Come, my friend.
I asked René to fix you a surprise.
After such arduous but worthwhile abstinence,
I thought you'd love to taste the forbidden fruit.
Let's call it your reward and my punishment.
The mere sight of it makes me sick.
I won't say it's a joy to behold, but I understand how you feel.
Sorry, I'm letting myself go.
Steady. There's more to come.
What's next, René?
Poached turbot, hollandaise sauce,
local cheeses and finally, apple tart.
How's the Condrieu?
Perfect.
It's all delicious. Every crumb.
We know all about my food phobias. What are yours?
I'm easy. I like everything.
Really everything?
No, I hate innards.
How strange.
I love them. Tripe, especially.
My father did, too.
He'd have sold his soul for tripe.
It's almost all we had in common.
You like tripe?
I loathe it.
God, I feel dizzy.
You ate too quickly.
After a long fast, the stomach needs gradual retraining.
This will pick you up.
Feeling okay?
Something made me puke all night.
Sorry. It's my fault.
I shouldn't have pigged out.
Have a good rest. It's the best thing for it.
It's only bile.
Rossignon will care for you.
I have to go to Paris. I'll be back by the weekend.
Get some rest.
You put a vomiting agent in his food
to kill his taste for cheese and fish?
I didn't. Dr. Rossignon did,
on Mr. Delamont's orders.
But you let him! How long was he sick?
Three days, I think.
Rossignon assured me it was safe.
Mr. Delamont then returned
and confessed to the trick? Coldly?
You were present.
You know what that's called?
"Accessory
to attempted poisoning."
You hear?
Poisoning!
We can call it off.
I'll compensate you amply for your inconvenience.
In business, I do it every day.
It's your call. Either I pay you off right now,
or you stay in the game and we go on.
- Is that clear? - Very clear.
You're a total bastard.
But I'll stay in.
We've made a big leap forward.
Henceforth, we'll have the same food phobias.
I think your training's over.
I may be rushing things, but I think not.
To seal our pact,
I asked René to cook us up a specialty of his:
Tripes grand-mère.
A family recipe. You're going to love it.
Well?
Exquisite.
Night watchman,
department store Santa,
temporary garbage collector...
Not a very stable job record.
What I'd like to know
is why you agreed to sacrifice your freedom,
like that. Overnight.
I wanted to see how far I could go.
Like setting myself a test.
Missed me! I was up front.
You look awful.
We worked like slaves.
Didn't they feed you? You're so thin!
No problem there.
I just caught a stomach bug.
How've you been?
Sorry. I tried to phone, but they're such rats.
Who else was in this rat hole?
Fifteen of us took the course.
I know. Caroline said.
You called Caroline?
Yes. After 10 days with no news, I got my hooks out.
I called Delamont International. It's in the phone book.
You shouldn't have. Hell! It's their method! Total immersion.
Immersion? I wish they'd drown themselves!
Is Delamont your whole life now?
- You told Caroline who you are? - Why not? Am I a leper?
You're a fucking pain!
There, now everything's clear.
They've twisted you. You're becoming a creep like them.
- Like who? - "Asswipes", you used to call them.
You despised them! Remember?
Your mars a real pro.
You're not the Nicolas I knew.
We're at the end of the line. I'm out.
- Where are you going? - Get lost!
Beats whiskey, right?
It's excellent.
Mouline,
from Côte Rôtie, France's oldest vineyard.
It brings back my youth.
You've come a long way, Nicolas.
Thank you.
I never let a man into my private life before.
It shows how much I trust you.
See how jealous it makes them?
Flavert's sulking,
Caroline's baffled,
my business partners think you know too much.
So?
What's on your mind?
I lied to you.
Can you elaborate?
It's not easy.
Lies flow like honey.
The sticky part comes later.
The thing is, I'm with somebody.
What of it?
I should have told you before. But...
I was stupid. When you first asked me
I didn't want to upset you.
I'm fond of this person.
I can't see how it interferes with my job.
Béatrice Simonin, born in Angers.
Runs a newsstand in St. Jean.
This batch was taken at the station.
A stormy scene, it seems. How is she?
What a filthy trick!
Keep your shirt on.
Would you trust a right-hand man who lies to you?
You've heard of industrial espionage. It's not a tabloid myth.
Luckily, I have good security.
You're totally paranoid!
Say what you like, you lied to me.
I presume you told her about me.
About us, that is.
I told her I was a private secretary.
You lie to everyone.
Just to stop her asking!
And you lie to yourself, which is worse.
You won't admit you're Frédéric Delamont's taster.
It's too degrading. You still don't get it.
That's not fair.
I played ball from the start!
It's not a game.
I'll send you my resignation.
Who the hell's that at this time?
Let me get it.
We can't stop halfway. It's unworthy of us.
I wanted to tell you at once.
Meet me for dinner, just the two of us.
You're right. Better not tell Béatrice exactly what you do.
It'll be our secret.
It was Delamont.
What did he want?
He won't let me quit.
What will you do?
I don't know.
I've been thinking.
If your job has a future, go for it.
Don't worry about me.
I love you.
The chef's face was a picture!
"Your seven-hour roast was an hour underdone."
- Was I right? - You were superb.
The wine was outstanding.
I'll take the stairs.
Maybe not.
I must take you to La Belle Etape.
The wines are all bargains
and all superb.
I have to get out. Let me out!
Nicolas, do something!
Let me out.
Let me out!
Good thing you were there.
- You okay? - Yes.
Let's walk down.
He was mad about hygiene.
I had to disinfect his phone every morning.
Empty his wastebasket several times a day.
Punctuality, too.
He hated lateness. In 7 years, he was on time for every meeting.
Mind you, that's a quality.
Was he scared of being poisoned?
By accident, yes.
He didn't think anyone would poison him.
May I speak my mind?
That's why you're here.
He suffered.
Suffered enormously.
But in secret.
Did he confide in you?
I could feel it.
I never believed that "taster" story.
It was a cover.
For what?
I don't know.
He had it all. Money, power...
He lacked for nothing.
Except a Nicolas Rivière.
What happened was dreadful.
What do you think of Nicolas Rivière?
Truthfully.
I shouldn't say it, but...
I think they were made for each other.
Hi, Flavert.
Call me "Monsieur", like everyone else.
If you'll stop calling me Nicolas.
Isn't that how waiters are addressed?
- Got an appointment? - I don't need one, Flavert.
- I warn you, he's homicidal. - That doesn't concern me.
True, it doesn't. Slaves don't get shouted at.
Flavert.
He hit me. You saw him!
I'll sue you, just you wait!
Is he in?
He's on the phone.
Fuck that!
He knocked his head.
He's boiling mad.
I'm not sure I can placate him.
He had it coming.
He's deeply jealous of you.
Jealous?
You're unique in your job.
There are millions of Flaverts, hundreds of Delamonts...
but how many Nicolas Rivières?
The more time goes by,
the more I envy you.
Now tell me.
Tell me everything.
What was it like?
What?
I've often wanted to punch someone, especially Flavert.
I never dared.
So tell me.
How does it feel?
The pleasure is...
instantaneous, and yet...
very short. A weird sensation.
Painful, for one thing.
I almost bust my wrist.
And then...
I have a lot to learn, but...
the thrill lasted only a second, between deciding to hit him
and my fist striking his face.
Coming out of the elevator, I didn't plan it.
It all happened very fast.
Thank you, Nicolas.
Amazing!
Who pays the rent?
He owns it. He lived here
10 years ago. It comes with the job.
What if you're fired?
Unlikely.
When do I get to meet him?
I'll fix it. Come and see this luxury!
Unbelievable!
How will we furnish it?
No prob. Frédéric's lending us his interior designer.
- Don't you like it? - Sure. It's great.
- Is that marble? - I think so.
And the bath taps? Are they gold?
I haven't sold out, okay? This luxury makes me puke as much as you.
Don't kid yourself.
I'm not. I haven't changed!
I'll rake in what I can, then bye-bye!
It'll buy us time to think.
You know how much I earn now?
50,000. "For starters," he says. Think about it.
You're hooked. It's like gambling.
Trust me, damn it!
Can't you play the game?
I don't want to live with a judge!
He patiently wove his web,
till Delamont was lost without him.
He bamboozled him to the end.
Right to the end.
That sounds a bit far-fetched.
Delamont, outwitted by Rivière?
Things went bad the day they met.
Not business-wise.
You'd be surprised!
Mr. Delamont began making errors of judgment
three weeks after hiring Rivière.
He lost his head. That's how I see it.
As if to a woman?
Exactly.
A woman who steals in and takes over.
A spider, like I said.
Frédéric!
I did it! I jumped!
I was terrified, but I jumped!
It's an incredible feeling!
The wind's howling
in the canopy!
Can you see me?
I hope so. Watch this!
I'm pulling the line. I'm turning.
You don't know what you're missing!
It's wicked!
You were great. Thanks to you, I was terrified!
I'm proud of you.
You were really brave.
On the one hand, I thought he was psycho.
On the other...
I wanted to share his craziness.
The idea of always going further.
I really loved Béatrice, but...
I knew where we were going.
With him, it was like being sucked along
by the unknown.
It was scary, but...
exciting.
You're drunk. You're talking crap.
It's not crap. I mean it.
Give her a break! She's happy. That's what counts.
Are you all stupid?
If only she was passionate about something, even... nursing.
It's not about money.
She spends her whole life selling papers.
What kind of a life is that?
I think it's ridiculous.
Or are you out to trap me?
Is that it? You're out to trap me?
You piss me off. I don't know what's bugging you,
but get off my back! Get off!
Charming place, this. Formal, but charming.
I can't believe how you've changed.
Tripes grand-mère.
Help yourselves.
Thanks, René.
It's his specialty.
Right, René? You won your first star with this.
That's right.
What's so funny?
Don't mind me, I'm wrecked.
You know what?
You'll always be a bunch of squirts.
It's not about money or class. It's mental.
The beauty of things is beyond your conception.
All you can do is giggle like jerks.
You're pissed off? Nobody's keeping you here.
To each his own way.
Let's go.
You're right, Nicolas.
To each his own way.
Go rot in your lousy kiosk!
So?
Miss Simonin stormed out on him.
Tell me more.
Sorry. Isn't Béatrice here?
The woman that usually works here? No.
When will she be back?
Search me. I fill in for a week, that's all I know.
Marco? Hi, it's Nicolas.
You know where Béatrice is?
Are you happy?
Don't look so grim.
I don't mean happy in general.
I mean happy with our partnership.
As a guy who likes surprises, I can't complain!
I'll say this:
I never dreamed I'd meet a person I could...
share so much with.
I'd like to...
celebrate it.
The same as mine.
Now we'll really live in sync.
May I take a few days off?
So soon?
To sort out a problem. Just a few days.
Béatrice?
She doesn't understand?
She's not up to our level of life.
If you think it'll help, take her away for a week.
But give me 10 days first.
I need you just now.
Won't you put it on?
Rupert Golding is a big American client.
We're on my turf but he chose the menu.
Thinks he's Epicurus.
Your job is to praise the food. It could win us a big contract.
Flavert,
halfway through the meal, you mention the new design.
Then I'll clinch it.
Let's do it.
Bad start.
- Sally's a wine expert. - So I see.
She studied in Napa Valley.
My wife was a wine buff, too. I think you ladies beat us there.
- Ready to be surprised? - Certainly.
You were perfect.
A perfect liar.
May I ask you something?
Were you really married?
Why? Would it be odd?
I played husband for 2 years, then got divorced.
Beautiful woman. First-class skier.
But we never saw eye to eye, except on wine.
And her feet were cold.
Hold it.
Have you noticed?
Look.
Aren't we growing similar? Give or take a few years.
Disturbing, no?
It shows we're on the right track. Good sign.
I need an hour with my American. See you in the bar.
Quick work! Good taste, too. She's charming.
And intelligent. She's an interpreter.
You hooked her, just like that?
Bagged her with a single look?
Sometimes everything clicks. You know how it is.
I'll say goodbye and we'll go.
Go?
You can't walk out on her. It's rude.
And what a waste!
Yes, but...
What? Aren't you allowed out at night?
Béatrice and I haven't reached that stage yet, luckily.
You must be dying for it.
Go on.
No harm in trying.
I'll book you a penthouse suite. Leave it to me.
Go on! It's my pleasure.
I like to see you like this.
What the fuck?
Mind you don't catch cold.
I asked what the fuck you're doing!
Your role is to taste, not consume.
What's she like?
Are her feet cold?
I don't believe this.
Go next door. I booked the other suite.
Please, Nicolas.
Don't reduce this to some perverted fantasy.
It's something else, infinitely more subtle.
We're playing the same music, four-handed,
without a single wrong note.
It was all orchestrated.
He said it was like music.
A trick like that would make most people quit. You didn't.
Didn't it bother you?
To be honest,
I admired him for it.
Admired him?
You know what he told me?
If he hadn't met me, he'd have killed himself.
Like that, coldly.
He'd been over it. Money and power no longer interested him.
I'm Frédéric Delamont. Can we talk about Nicolas?
Talk away.
Not here. Can I drive you home?
In a chauffeured Mercedes? No thanks.
That bar on the corner. Will it do?
Fine.
I'll lock up and come.
Give me a Match.
14 francs.
You're very pretty. He has good taste.
You didn't come here to give me that crap.
Nicolas will hold this against me, but we're stuck.
I've often asked to meet you - it seems reasonable -
but he always changed the subject.
We've split up. What's the point?
It's simple.
Since you moved out, Nicolas has changed.
He's late for work, absent-minded, doesn't sleep...
Poor boy.
It sounds trivial, but I think he loves you.
And you...
It wouldn't take much to patch it up.
Would it?
He and I have nothing to discuss.
Since you hired him, we've been strangers.
Because he's never told you what he does for me. He's ashamed.
It's very unhealthy.
That's why I'm here.
It's all over the papers, anyway. Look.
"Delamont Boss Treats Himself to Taster"
I don't believe it.
You pay him 50,000 francs to taste your food?
60,000.
I raised it last week.
I don't get it.
For that price, do you fuck?
Our relationship is crystal clear.
I've never fancied boys.
You're barking up the wrong tree.
I'm not barking anywhere.
This is all beyond me.
- I'm tired. - I sympathize.
I can let him go,
if it means that much.
I want to see you back together,
believe me.
There's just one snag: I'm not sure he wants to backtrack.
Not sure at all.
Why are you doing this?
Why?
What are you trying to say?
That Nicolas played me for a sucker?
Look at you!
You stink of lies, too.
Your phony face, your smile...
You both make me sick.
You're wrong. All I want
is to save your relationship.
Too bad we can't communicate.
He can't have said that.
It's not true! He told me not to tell you!
Knock it off!
If anyone's hooked, it's him.
Béatrice, I need you.
Ten days later, you moved in with Mr. Delamont.
He said there was room upstairs,
with separate access. So, yes.
It never struck you that you'd be completely at his mercy?
- What time is it? - 2 a.m.
We need to talk. Come to my office.
So tell me.
How did it go while I was away?
Why are you looking like that?
I don't get it.
I moved here a week ago, and you vanished.
With no word, as if I'm nobody.
Perhaps you aren't, without me.
Hungarian. You want some?
No thanks.
You know why I didn't take you along?
It's the first time ever.
To see if I could do without you.
I couldn't. It was disastrous.
I lost two contracts in a row. Never before. I hate that.
Don't get me wrong.
I've never depended on any drug,
or any person.
I'm afraid we may have jumped the gun.
I don't see how.
When a relationship becomes addictive
you have to clean your system.
We'll do it together. Come here.
Thursday, you fly to Tunis.
An inland flight to Tozeur, on the edge of the desert.
What for?
To taste solitude for me.
I'm sure it will fortify us both.
You didn't even bring me a souvenir?
A crystal to put on my desk?
He knows I'm back, right?
Yes, I gave him the details.
Tunis Air
to Orly South, arriving 18:30.
Why didn't François meet me?
He was busy.
Where is Mr. Delamont?
Listen, Nicolas.
Get some sleep. You're exhausted.
I said, where is Frédéric?
Give me a fucking answer!
I just arrived.
So I see.
Sit down, Mr. Rivière.
He just arrived from Africa, hence the suntan.
He's our North African agent.
- I'll go. - No, why?
You're here, so sit down.
Set him a place.
This is Vincent Granet,
my taster.
Mr. Granet?
The drumstick.
What's your verdict?
Very subtly honey-cured.
Perfectly cooked.
Good. Serve us.
Your new recruit is perfect.
Thank you, Flavert.
Before the interruption,
I was saying we need a full scale U.S. - style campaign.
We'll share the costs
in a big way.
Mr. Rivière.
A drop of Mouline?
I half kill myself tasting solitude for you
and a punk swipes my job!
That stinks!
We're not married. In my business,
we hire and fire according to contract.
Granet's contract expired on your return, as planned.
As planned?
I know your desert sojourn was an ordeal.
Reading your diary was an ordeal for me, too.
Believe me,
I've been suffering too.
- Granet really left? - Of course.
He wasn't worth half of you.
Goodness, you're jealous!
So you're not completely cured.
Is it the solitude? If not, we'll have to start again.
Listen, Nicolas.
I know I'm right about you.
So your painful intrusion at lunch
and stupid fit of jealousy are the last wrong notes we'll let go.
I say "we".
Do we agree?
We do.
We're going skiing this weekend.
Three days on a mountain will do us good.
Nice and gooey, à la René Rousset?
Do your best. I'm so glad to be here,
I'll forgive you one bad omelet.
My only good memories of childhood.
I often came here. My parents sent me with my governess.
I loved her. She had awesome breasts.
She died last year.
I felt so peaceful with her.
Delicious.
Nothing to it.
Not quite true.
Tomorrow we start at 8.
The early bird gets the snow.
How was it?
It's a tough one.
A very steep drop
to a mogul field. Hard ice.
After that?
Another drop...
Ice?
Not where I went,
but it's a tough first run.
Let's do it.
Are you okay?
- My leg's broken. - Let's see.
There's nothing to see! Get help! Tell Rossignon
and François to fly in a medical unit.
Beat it!
I'll never forgive you.
He complained of dizziness, headaches,
fits of spatial disorientation, as if the earth had opened under him.
I suspected an inner ear complaint. I ran tests,
but nothing was wrong.
I concluded that Mr. Rivière's symptoms
were due to depersonalization.
His symptoms are often found in progressive psychotics.
I can't bear to think of you upstairs.
Take a hotel room and await instructions.
You're no use to me at present.
How can you feel
the same things as I?
You have two good legs. Look at me!
A fractured tibia.
Two months like this, plus reeducation!
I can still taste for you.
René offered to cook you some tripe.
The body's a whole.
All I am is a broken leg.
I breathe and think and pee with my leg.
While you prance around!
We're on different planets.
Do I have to spell it out?
What if Rossignon set my leg?
After all we've done, is that your best shot?
Trying to fake it?
Pathetic.
Go on. Pack your bags.
François will take you to your hotel.
Béatrice? It's me. Please don't hang up.
I need you to listen.
I think I'm going berserk.
No, I moved out. I'm at a hotel.
Can't you listen? I'm through with Delamont.
I said it's over!
He's still woozy, naturally. Compound fracture. We had to pin it.
But it's okay. He should make a full recovery.
Good.
Does it hurt?
Not too much.
I must have gone crazy.
Yes.
Crazy's the word.
You shouldn't have done it.
I did it for you.
That's exactly what bothers me. You did it for me.
But what about us?
You and me?
Did you think?
Our dream of perfect harmony wasn't so far off.
It's stupid. So nearly there! What a waste.
You should have broken it before.
It had to come from you.
I expected it.
It seemed so obvious. So simple.
You understand?
Your gesture...
feels like a botched job.
Botched job?
I loved you.
More than I ever loved anyone.
My love... was almost perfect.
True fusion.
I believed it, I swear.
This can't be true.
See? If you were really in tune, you'd say what I'm feeling:
We've gone as far as we can.
It's time we parted. Without drama.
You'll have a year's pay to see you through.
Rossignon will supervise your recovery.
Don't try to see me again.
You know, Nicolas...
I'm as lost as you.
After that
was a black hole.
What you call "black hole" is a type of depression.
We call it Abandonment Depression.
You were moved to a clinic,
given high doses of anti-depressants.
Was I? Nobody told me anything.
Rossignon visited me just once.
He said everything was normal. We spoke mainly about my leg.
I asked after Frédéric. He said
he was okay, he'd recovered.
I didn't believe him.
I was sure Frédéric was in the pits.
What made you think so?
Did you want him to suffer?
Like you?
Maybe.
Then one day, I read in the paper
that Delamont shares had crashed.
It comforted me.
How do I look? Not too mental?
A bit.
I spoke to the doctor.
He thinks you're better.
You're back in touch with reality.
That's good. Soon you won't need medication.
Félix has found you a job in publishing.
Nothing too complicated, just filing.
It's kind of you all to do this.
Let's go.
For some reason, I'm scared.
It's normal.
Come on, Nick! A little fizz won't kill you.
He shouldn't, with his medication.
Just a tiny drop.
You look in great shape.
Guess what.
I don't believe it!
The things that go on behind my back!
Answer it.
Not me! I've forgotten how.
Good exercise! Just say hello.
Nuthouse speaking.
Okay.
Who was it?
- Frédéric. - What did he want?
To see me.
I don't believe it.
You're not going.
Call me a taxi.
I want to see how he looks.
You're all alone?
Yes.
Rousset quit.
I was about to take a bath.
Come in.
What did you want? Béatrice is waiting.
- You came with your nurse. - Yes. So?
I wanted to see how you looked.
Now I know.
You look like nothing.
As if everything we went through has washed off you.
Extraordinary.
Is it my eyes or are you fatter?
- The anti-depressants. - Right.
The anti-depressants.
You drink whiskey now?
You're not the only one who's changed.
Sit down. My back hurts.
These past two months, I've been in deep distress.
Because of you. Very unpleasant.
One acquires bad habits.
Won't she give us
a break for a second?
Sit down.
I've missed you terribly.
I know you've missed me, too.
Right now, I can read your mind.
I can feel your heart thumping.
Apart, we're nothing.
- I'm going. - You're not. You know it.
You came at my first call.
I know if I asked you to kneel down
and lick my feet, you'd do it.
Come here.
Come taste my foot, Nicolas.
We'll start from scratch.
You're pathetic, poor Nicolas!
You're a jerk!
A squirt!
You hear me?
Squirt!