to live.
As if the masses didn't do anything.
But who are, what are the masses?
Those who obey, those who follow. But the masses haven't followed.
Even though the right conditions were achieved,
it didn't work out. Why?
You're too impatient.
I'm not.
You're wrong. I'll be delighted when it happens.
- Waiting for that moment to come... - Wait.
Will your mates let us smoke dope?
Perhaps you should stop too.
Shad!
- Are you coming? - Don't feel like it.
You go.
Don't feel like going without you.
Of course you do.
Read a book.
Take a short walk.
Have a look at another book.
Then go out.
- How is it going, François? - Good. Look.
Antoine. I was wondering whether I should come to see you
or go to the nearest nightclub.
I chose the nightclub.
At least there. One knows how to act.
You're a bourgeois.
You play a part but you're a coward.
The others are no better. They're losing the revolution indoors.
I shall never see you again.
Jean-Christophe.
Shit.
Encrusted.
- What's this? - Dross.
- What? - Dross.
Opium that's been smoked.
By cooking it I get opium that's second rate.
The poor eat it in the East.
They are called "dross eaters".
Luc...
Can you help me?
Hold this.
- Is it a new one? - What?
Sorry.
- Where did you get it from? - The usual.
You'll get caught one day.
One for my sister too.
Since you were there...
Will you join us?
I'm coming.
See you later.
They leave by car. Drive through the Black Forest.
So...
The other two know it. So they get there...
At a certain point, no more petrol.
The guy stops the car and says: "Don't move, darling.
"I'm going to get some petrol."
He leaves her alone in the night. She starts freaking out.
Says to her: "If there's..." Do you want a puff?
"If there's a problem, don't turn round. Don't do anything.
"Stay still."
The girl waits. One hour, two hours, three.
She never sees him again.
When it goes well, you feel it. It's like something
that goes from the stomach all the way up to your head.
What are you talking about? Fucking?
Idiot. No, when you're drawing.
When you can do it.
Something happens with one stroke and you see it.
Enough for me. It's okay. Otherwise it's too much.
Have you seen "Before the Revolution"?
Listen, it's by Makhno.
"An anarchist revolutionary made me understand that half of our battle
"had been assimilated by the masses fighting for freedom
"and independence of individuals and humanity."
Makhno.
I've finished.
- Well, I think I have. - Are you pleased, honey?
I don't know. You'll have to tell me.
- Come and have a look at it later. - I will, later.
They're the same.
I'd like to ask you something.
But I don't dare.
Come on, tell me. What is it?
I want to do it with Antoine's cousin.
I find him attractive.
Well, go on then.
Are you okay with it?
You sure you won't tell me off later?
I won't. Go ahead.
Are you sure?
I am.
You know what?
He's got the tiniest willy.
Much smaller than yours.
If only Antoine would buy the painting!
We need it. We're overdrawn.
I know.
Is there anything missing?
No, I like it the way it is.
Something's bothering me here.
Some kind of imbalance. Here, at the top.
I trust you.
I'll ask Antoine what he thinks of it.
Can you come here a second?
- What is it? - I'd like your opinion on this.
What do you think?
I'm buying it.
I'm asking you what you think.
And I'm telling you I'm buying it.
It's not aesthetic opinion, it's charity.
- Don't you want me to buy it? - I do.
But first, tell me what you really think.
It's beautiful. I find it beautiful. I want to have it.
Now, can I buy it?
If you really find it beautiful,
it's yours. I'd be delighted.
It's not beautiful enough for a present.
Isn't it?
God, you're such a pain!
- Well then, I'm selling it to you. - You're selling it to me?
- It all worked out fine in the end. - Have you got any more weed?
Roll us a quick joint, will you?
- What's wrong with Léa? - I don't know.
Two years ago there were cows here.
It's true, you know.
Come on, we're almost there.
Come on in.
She's on duty during the week.
Can you give me a hand?
We need to pull this down.
Wait, my finger! I was only joking.
Nice view, isn't it?
One can breathe.
Come and have a look.
- What? - Come and have a look.
You're not showing me family photos!
Why not?
What? What's wrong?
I wanted you to see photos of my dad.
I'm sorry. Go on, show me.
Look.
Not these.
- Is that him? - It is.
Let's have a look.
It's a beautiful photograph.
He came out well in it.
Like one of Pasolini's characters.
He does. I like it a lot.
He introduced me to drawing.
He had an artistic temperament.
He was extremely sensitive. I admired him a lot.
He spent his life working in a factory. He was in the Communist Party.
He was dreaming of leaving everything and taking up painting.
He couldn't make his dream come true.
The fear of poverty.
We needed two incomes.
And my mother was afraid of losing him.
Imagine, he changes his life, starts meeting other artists...
And where's she in all this?
She was afraid that he'd find another woman.
So she never let him do it.
And his work... He used to work in a toy factory...
At times he would have a lump in his throat. He'd leave work
and would walk in the streets.
Or he'd get home and sleep all day.
His boss was fond of him. So he would catch up on Sundays.
I've kept his notebooks. I'll show them to you.
He used to write stories about his youth in Italy.
Short stories.
He knew what it was like, to starve.
I read them after his death. I was beside myself.
He was illiterate. He would dictate to a colleague of his.
That's why I'll never give up sculpture.
And what's this?
A series that I've made.
It's part of a series for art school.
Did you make them?
- Did you see? - See what?
Did you see this?
What is it?
It's a sexy...
It belongs to one of my mum's friends.
They make lingerie, a bit risqué, for a specialised shop.
Let me see.
Honestly, they're not beautiful.
Do you think they're sexy? Like them?
I don't know. No.
It makes me laugh. It's just not on.
Your mother is very open-minded.
You could say that.
- She earns some money. - So...
Money, I see.
You know, I'm getting married.
With Yvan.
With Yvan?
I thought it was over between you two?
We got back together 2 months ago.
What a disaster!
I'm telling you, he's changed.
He won't do anything stupid, he's afraid of losing me.
Charléne, you're out of your mind.
- Has he still got his little goatee? - Oh no, that was horrible!
I made him shave it off.
He's got smooth skin and hair till here.
What?
I'm giving him love lessons.
I make him do things he's never done before.
He's discovering himself with me.
And at the same time, I am with him.
He's happy and we get on really well.
That's incredible.
We're renting a one-bedroom flat.
- When are you two getting married? - Next year.
Enjoy your meal!
So what about you? You're not telling me anything.
- Are you in love at the moment? - I am. Very much so.
Is it real love or you're just having fun?
I think this time it's for real.
What does he do?
- He's a poet. - Meaning?
He writes the most beautiful poetry.
He's very talented.
Is he married?
Why married? You're mad, he's 20 years old.
Well, that's better.
I wouldn't want you to get in trouble. A poet...
Since it doesn't pay the bills,
I thought he was old,
married or shit like that.
You're too imaginative, Charléne.
No, he's a pure creature.
You know, I never used to mix love with sex.
It's not because you fall in love and shag that you really love someone.
I always made the distinction.
But this time it's both.
Something deep.
Admiration...
and sex.
So, you don't cheat on him?
No.
No, I don't after all.
Even if at times I feel something...
But it's a fleeting desire. A very strong drive.
But it doesn't count.
And also...
I adore making love to him.
We were hungry, but it was nice.
Sometimes we would steal...
A box of Camembert, some paté...
It was nice.
We had fun.
Do you remember my hunger strike?
Yes.
- No, nothing. - What?
No, nothing.
I have to go. It's time.
- It was really good to see you. - And you.
Don't disappear without sending any news.
I promise.
Will you come to see me in Savigny, with François?
I will, I promise.
Bye. Safe journey.
Have a nice day.
What is it? Do you want me to dream of you?
So, you're madly in love?
It does you good. You look well.
I'm not joking, it's true.
Do you ever see Jean-Christophe?
But the problem,
the only real problem
is to solve the contradiction between
the pleasure of wearing bright colours
and the necessity of wearing dark colours.
Why necessity?
Dark colours are better than light ones but less fun.
One has to choose between seeing oneself and being seen.
For example,
you see, with this red, purple, pink, green,
I look like a crazy parrot.
Whereas dressed in a suit from the Bouquin shop window, in grey velvet...
You would look like a Fragonard.
Luc. I find you hard and cruel with me.
You say hurtful things.
I feel that you take it all out on me.
And in these moments I prefer to be elsewhere.
Léa.
I'm telling you, I'm dead already.
The splendours of falling in love
What is it?
Three is the right number.
All odd numbers are the right ones.
Seven.
Nine. Eleven.
I think I would get lost.
You can also get lost in two.
It's disgusting.
Why is it disgusting?
I guess I got scared.
Me too.
Two days is a long time.
I'm sorry.
Will you give me a smile?
There, I'm ready.
Where are you off to?
We're not going to the same place.
Aren't you having dinner with us?
Crowd is not my cup of tea.
Come! Lt'll be our treat.
You're very kind but no, thanks.
Lend me your scarf.
Not a chance. You can borrow my handkerchief.
Can you lend it to me?
What's wrong?
I've been working for ten hours.
I'll fix you something to eat.
- Is nobody in? - No, nobody.
I'm trying to understand you.
Are you?
I don't need to. I know you. I love you.
Oh really? And how do you love me?
The way I'll never love anyone else.
Are you planning to?
- That I don't know. - Are you serious?
I am.
Will you let me read your father's stories?
If they're good we'll try to publish them.
I've thought about it.
Perhaps one day but...
not now.
Tilt it a bit.
Go back.
- Everything okay? - Yes, I found it.
It was under the bench.
I've got new commissions for statues.
I'll need a model for sketches.
Would you pose for me?
- Naked? - No.
I'll pay you.
I don't want to be paid.
- Why not? - I'm not a model.
So you don't want to?
I don't know.
I have to think about it.
It's late.
Jean wants me to pose for him.
How?
Like this. I mean, dressed.
Oh yeah.
Does he want to go out with you?
No.
Well, I don't know. Maybe.
He just needs a model.
You didn't think I would have asked you for permission?
- Are you asking me for permission? - I am.
Why? You don't need one. You're free.
Well no. I love you.
Plus I'm sure he'll pay me loads of cash.
Is he in love with you?
No, I think he's just generous.
"A load of cash" isn't much for him.
A load of cash for us is nothing for him.
I got a letter from my landlady. She wants the room for her daughter.
If we have to go to a hotel...
We can stay at Antoine's place.
I don't want to stay there for the rest of our lives.
The rest of our lives may not be that long.
I want it to be very long.
I want us to be together for a long time.
It's unbelievable, the solitude in every man's heart.
Are you getting a cramp?
No, I'm okay.
Just there.
- Is it okay like that? - Yes, thank you.
You would have your own studio, time to work.
I would introduce you to some people.
Art dealers, clients.
There's no prospects in France.
No. This is dross.
Here, this is opium.
- Shall I read you one of my poems? - If you like.
It's called "The ideal bed".
Well, I'm reading it then.
"The clouds, a few snowy puffs
"Are there, before the blue
"That you can't imagine them different
"They look like angels
"In that bed slept the one
"whose eyes awaken
"To that sky in oblivion"
"To that sky...
"in oblivion"
I'll find her again one day.
It's very nice.
You scared me.
I dreamt that you weren't there.
You're crazy.
It was a nightmare.
I'll always be with you.
Whatever happens.
You swear?
Yes, I swear.
Let's go to sleep now.
Okay.
Police, open up!
Just a minute, I can't find the keys!
Hide the weed!
There, I'm coming!
I'm sorry, I didn't have the keys.
Good morning, Sir.
Police officer Lefévre.
Blanchard, the bailiff.
I've got a court order here.
For unpaid fines...
- Oh yes, the fines. - Since...
1965.
Do come in. I'll be right with you.
It's an artist's studio.
- Did you do these? - No.
Mister... A relative?
No, I'm a friend of Antoine's.
Not bad.
Modern but...
It is, quite.
I'm a bit of a collector too.
Of less modern things but...
Not bad.
There, how much do I owe you?
You wouldn't have a pen, Sir?
Are you also an artist?
No, I'm a student.
Nothing wrong with that. No need to be scared.
- Here you are. - That's fine. Thank you.
- I didn't fill in the name. - I'll do it.
Thank you. I'd forgotten about the fines.
It's okay. It gives us something to do.
- Goodbye, gentlemen. - Goodbye.
You forgot your pen.
- Just pull here. - Thank you.
- Have a nice day. - Same to you.
- Do they suspect something? - Of course.
Of course they do.
I'm sorry.
It's my fault. I should have...
But it's not that serious.
No, of course.
You know, the first time,
sometimes girls can't do it.
The anxiety...
I was afraid of my father.
Although I really liked that guy.
We were both longing for it.
It happened with an other while we were still together.
You can eat if you like.
No, I'm not hungry.
Sit down.
I'm making soup.
- Don't you want to sit at the table? - I'm fine here.
Take this.
Do you think Antoine loves me?
You can tell me.
That's a good one!
So, you stayed in Normandy?
To do something we'd never done before.
Spend the weekend in the best hotel without leaving the room...
But that costs a month's salary.
Laura has a rich husband, she can afford these things.
Police!
Good evening, gentlemen. Face the wall.
Nothing on you?
Do you have anything on you?
No.
No, I've got nothing.
- They've got nothing. - Very well. Thank you, gentlemen.
- Have a nice evening, gentlemen. - Goodbye.
Do you think we're on their black list?
It's obvious.
Maybe we're not. Man, you're paranoid.
You'll see in prison if I am...
No, he's right.
In the meantime, let's go the other way. Come on.
Don't go there.
- I said come on! - What?
I've got to tell you something.
What is it?
You know what I'm going to do?
I'm going to leave Paris and move to Morocco.
- You're not! - I am.
I've got a house and mates there.
An old Moroccan friend.
He can get me work as a trainee at his newspaper.
With all that's going on here, it's now or never.
So, the code word?
A code word? What's that?
Well, the code word.
Code: We explode.
We explode.
Explodium.
Honey, why are you here?
What are we going to do now?
Where will we go?
Do you remember my brother Fabrice?
A friend of his organised a jazz concert in Morocco.
As the Moroccans didn't have any money to pay the musicians,
they gave them 4 tons of hashish.
What? 4 tons of hashish?
How do you transport it?
- You don't. - And so?
You stay there, smoke it all and never come back.
Morning is Italian. Night is German.
Good hash, the sea, the sun.
You won't get bored there, you lucky bastard.
There, I'm ready for Morocco.
Can a girl lend me a black eye-liner?
Here you go.
"The Moroccan" by Matisse.
I'm ready for Morocco.
The suit... I would need something with stripes,
something more...
- Camille, can I have a look at yours? - Go ahead.
How grand you are!
He's not well.
Don't know what's wrong with him.
- Is it acid or pure LSD? - I don't know.
- Did you give it to him? - I don't know where he got it from.
- You didn't give to him? - No!
Did you give it to him?
Gauthier!
Did you give it to him?
No, but it's fun.
It cracks you up.
Gauthier freaked out.
He freaked out...
How are you going to manage without a studio?
I don't know.
Let's talk about it tomorrow.
Now I'm making some mint tea.
Mint tea.
Shit!
What are you doing? Are you nuts?
What is it? Why did you do it?
What's wrong?
What?
Your cash, I'll pay you back.
I'll call you at the hospital.
Mister Antoine left this for you.
Thank you very much.
Go.
Idiot!
Come on, I feel like walking.
I'm going to the States.
I thought he'd already left.
Hasn't he?
He has.
Then why are you going there?
- Do you want to join him? - Yes.
Good.
What about me?
He's beautiful on the inside and the outside.
He turns me upside down.
I never told him anything.
Perhaps because I knew.
Asking him to wait for me wouldn't be fair.
You've got your life, a man you love. You're having a baby.
And I'm just chasing it.
I don't know.
Remember my hunger strike? I wanted to die then.
You gave me a lecture.
You spurred me on.
Don't do anything stupid.
I'll always be there if you need me.
I know.
Do you think we'll see each other again?
Of course, are you crazy?
Of course we will. New York isn't all that far.
Plus I'll have to come to see your little one.
- What time is your flight? - 8:50.
I'll take you to the airport.
No, I've called a cab.
I promised him I wasn't a communist.
At the American Embassy they make you sign a form
where you swear that you're not a communist or a drug addict.
Did you do that?
So, the keys...
And this?
Take it with you.
Are you sure you don't want me to come?
No, it's okay.
Since I moved to Brooklyn. I hardly ever leave this area.
I share a studio with a friend. She's a sculptor like me.
We support one another
and encourage each other.
You really need to here. So you don't feel too much
like a lonely animal in the jungle.
Two boxes
of reward coupons.
Then...
Two squared exercise books,
big ones.
Then I need a copy of "Fables" by La Fontaine.
Let's recap...
25 pens, 40 exercise books,
2 boxes of chalk, 2 erasers, 2 boxes of reward stickers,
"Fables" by La Fontaine...
I think that's all.
Let's have a look.
I'm missing... No, nothing.
For the bursar's office...
What's this doing here? USP... Contributions...
That's not it.
I must tell you that I am now an anarchist.
The others make me sick.
I have great news.
After a year. I finally got my work permit.
It's such a relief...
How is it going?
Some interesting things are happening.
The revolution and stuff...
Movements are being formed. I'll tell you everything.
After a year. I finally got my work permit.
It's such a relief
from all points of view.
The sleep of the just
Oh look, a star!
Come, darling.
Come. Take this one.
Put it down. It's rotten.
A comet streaks by with all its speed!
Coma?
Dead.
François thought: Will this idiot policeman ever stop talking rubbish?
But since François may have screwed up himself.
He died that morning.