Like in a mysterious rite of passage, Bardo players
appear on the mental stage of the dead, their only audience.
Their director is Karma.
W.Y.Evans-Wentz, The Tibetan Book of the Dead.
l always thought
my mother would die after me.
l imagined myself as a castrated bachelor,
wearing cardigans
and living in his mother磗 home
at the age of forty...
lt happened differently.
The Belleville Book of the Dead
She is losing consciousness...
Metastases spread from the brain
to the spine through the rachidian canal.
She is under morphine.
lt磗 a matter of hours...
Mom磗 disease was mercifully quick, but dreadful.
The cancer spread thorough her body
as if it was afraid to be late to a prosperous infections meeting.
Your turn...
Do you want me to wheel you in?
Don磘 tell me you磛e been smoking!
l have, why?
Why?
Because we磖e in a fucking hospital!
l think she passed away...
Sonya?
What are you doing?
Sonya...
What do you mean 创Sonya创?
Let磗 go...
When l started to realize that Mom was really gone,
l entered a time of deep depression.
l felt like l had lost an adversary.
Someone l could compete with.
My biggest fan and my harshest critic.
This is how you work?
Mom, why are you here?
What do you mean why am l here?
You can磘 live your life like a slug!
But you磖e dead!
Yes l磎 dead, so what?
l磎 sick of lying down! ls that the problem?
ln my dreams,
Mom accepted her dead condition with a lot of honesty...
She wasn磘 trying to look alive.
On the contrary,
she was dealing with death磗 consequences
like she had dealt with life磗 bad times
A lousy marriage
and two kids who, eventually,
had pretty much disappointed her.
You can磘 expect everyone to only be motivated by work!
But you, like Michel, are bureaucrats.
No difference...
You have security. lf you do shit, you still get paid.
Don磘 exaggerate!
l think regulating is good.
You won磘 make people work
60 hours a week like a 100 years ago!
And what if l fucking want to work 60 hours?
What would stop me?
l磍l work 35 hours if l want and 60 hours if l want!
lt磗 a free country, goddamit!
ldiot, what are you saying?
When l think l fought my whole life
with your stupid father for you to end up like him...
a conservative prick!
Mom, don磘 start!
Slug, shut up! l have as much to say about you!
Well,
let磗 not fight about this.
Cheers!
Good! Get drunk!
lt could only help!
Mom, you can磘 do that. You are dead!
Stop breaking my balls!
Jesus! Being dead isn磘 a reason to shut up!
Let磗 drink...
to your mother.
To Mom...
You fucking hypocrite! Bitch! You could never bear me!
Mom!
What are you doing here?
Can磘 you see what l磎 doing!
These rotting leftovers!
How can you let yourself go like this?
There磗 something l磀 like you to explain to me...
What, again?
As far as l know,
you磛e always been opposed to the idea of life after death.
You mean all that nonsense about God? Reincarnation?
- All that bullshit? - Yes.
l remember you saying:
创dead people rot and that磗 it.创
You said: 创you put them in boxes and they rot.创
Yes, so what?
So how do you explain that you磖e washing my dishes
while you are dead?
Poor little pumpkin.
You know what?
Keep asking these kinds of useless questions,
and you磍l pass by your own existence.
Almost 6 months after Mom died,
my dreams became less frequent
and finally disappeared.
l understood that l had
finally accepted her death.
l still thought about her
but her absence
wasn磘 gnawing at me like a rat.
l had moved on.
l had changed.
l was no more the kind of man to have a mother like Mom...
My mother was dead.
All this made what happened at the end of spring
seem even more disconcerting.
l was out for a walk in Belleville.
lt was about three in the afternoon.
l wanted to take a day off.
Mom?
Oh, Michel! Look how cute this is!
l wonder what they use it for...
What are you doing here?
You always refused to go to Belleville
except to take the cat to the vet!
But now l live here, it磗 not that bad.
And l discovered Chinese food!
l just bought an egg roll. Want some? Try it!
But Mom, you磖e dead!
Of course l磎 dead!
Did you think l was on a cruise in the Caribbean?
But, last time l saw you was...
l didn磘 expect to see you in Belleville this afternoon!
Neither did l expect to see you in Belleville this afternoon!
And work?
l took the day off...
There wasn磘 much to do...
All l do is file.
You磖e in a bad way.
That磗 not how you磍l climb the ladder of life!
Life? Mom, you can磘 really talk about life!
You could磛e told us you moved.
Ever hear of a phone?
l磎 going to be late for my class. l have to go.
Wait a minute.
How does it feel to be dead?
Oh, it磗 not a big deal!
l磍l tell you everything tomorrow evening.
l live nearby, 1 8 rue de la Villette.
l磍l make tea and cookies!
How was it possible?
My mom...
she was always so sure about the absence of life after death.
How could she take it so lightly?
l had to learn more about her resurrection.
She wasn磘 going to get away with it like this.
How long are you going to stand there?
Who磗 that?
A Sadhu. Come on!
What磗 a 创sad dude创?
Not a 创sad dude创, a Sadhu!
He磗 my guide. l磍l explain later.
lt磗 all so organized, much better than in life!
Death services don磘 mind your name磗 on the door?
ldiot! There is no 创Death services创.
When you die, you move neighborhoods.
So, the crematorium was fake? You weren磘 in the casket?
- l admit, l磎 not quite sure. - What?
l went directly from the hospital to Belleville,
then visited this apartment with real estate agents.
Dead real estate agents?
Yes! As dead as doornails!
The water is boiling, have a seat there.
There. l磍l bring the tea.
Don磘 worry!
lt was the first time l saw a post-mortem house.
What struck me from the start
was Mom磗 new house was identical
to the one she lived in the last years of her life.
A small detail disturbed me, though:
the photos of my brother and l
that used to cover all possible surfaces
were now pictures of strangers...
Pictures of people l had never seen.
Although l was shaken, l kept quiet.
l knew that if l was curt, Mom wouldn磘 tell me anything.
The Belleville Book of the Dead
You just got here and you already want to make a call!
Mom, what is this?
Let磗 just say they磖e religious texts...
Mom, can you answer my questions, please?
But l answered you already!
When you die, you change neighborhoods,
you磖e registered in the phone book. That磗 it!
That磗 it?
You mean there are herds of dead people walking in Paris,
and nobody has ever realized it?
And Belleville...
Why Belleville? You always hated Belleville!
Well, yes...
But believe me,
it could have been worse!
l heard some dead people end up in the suburbs...
in track housing!
Track housing!
Mom, please...
The cookies!
lt took a while, but l finally got information out of her
This is pretty much what happens:
When you die, you磖e transferred to a new neighborhood
where you roughly have the same kind of life you had before you died.
There really are herds of dead people in Paris
and lots of dead companies.
When you磛e been dead for many years, you go to the country.
The dead community has its own administration.
lt places its people in most ofthe big companies
and government institutions.
Dead people almost all have a job.
Like Mom, for example...
And l found a job in a publishing company.
They are alive, but they pay good money.
Well, now you know everything.
Okay Mom, that磗 the story...
But Mom, you磖e so curious,
didn磘 you try to know more?
Who磗 in charge of all ofthis?
Who磗 got the supreme power?
How should l know? l磎 not an intellectual like you.
l take things as they come and l like it like that.
l work, l see friends, l go to my class...
This class again? What is this class?
The phone book people...
They organize initiation classes for the new-dead.
We study the Yellow Pages.
We learn lots of stuff to get by in death.
But still, it磗 so unlike you, Mom.
You, the revolutionary, the great rebel
ending up in a sect directed by dead Telecom employees!
How did you end up like this?
You磖e right.
lt磗 shady.
Death must have fucked up my brain.
l磎 not throwing you out, but l have to get ready...
l磛e met new friends, very smart people
l磎 invited to a reception.
Do you want to come?
l don磘 feel like partying with corpses
Sorry.
No worries, pumpkin.
But you should come!
Pretty girls come to these parties!
Girls?
l think l found the good argument.
Wait for me. l磍l just be 1 0 minutes.
So, pumpkin,
what are you doing all by yourself?
Daydreaming again?
Come on, l want you to meet somebody.
Good evening!
Good evening.
Good evening. Enjoying yourself?
Vladimir! My friend!
Please meet my second son Michel.
Very good!
l磎 absolutely delighted
to meet you, young man.
Sir.
Vladimir磗 a new friend.
He磗 Russian, from Vladivostok?
From the suburbs!
Vladimir imports caviar in bulk.
Big eggs of caviar!
But l know his little secret.
Oh! Madame!
Yes, Vladimir is an artist.
He writes poems, short stories, just like you.
Sonya, honey!
This is Sonya, my daughter
whom l磎 delighted to have found again.
No way? You too?
Come on, Michel! Wake up!
Come on, introduce yourself!
Vladimir! Awaltz!
Let磗 leave the kids alone.
With great pleasure, Madame.
Good evening, Michel.
So, the hospital was not a dream?
No. l was there for my dad.
l磎 sorry you didn磘 know him before.
How long has it been? 1 5 years?
Fifteen years without news and here you are with these...
These dead people acting normal don磘 seem to bother you.
l磎 a fool, is that it?
lt磗 no newsflash. But now you磖e here, l need to know...
How can you disappear from someone磗 life
without even a phone call?
l was in love with another man.
l didn磘 want you to suffer.
Really?
lt must be my fate.
Every woman l磛e ever loved, loved someone else.
But Sonya,
you could磛e written or given a little sign of...
a little sign of...
life?
l think... l think l need a drink.
You have to explain all this to me.
l tried to ask my mom but she refuses to answer me.
She磗 not refusing. She just doesn磘 know much yet.
She磗 like my father. They are new-deads.
创New-deads创?
But Sonya,
how do you face the idea of spending eternity with only old people?
ln these parties, the age group is always the same,
among the living or among the dead.
What happened, Sonya?
Don磘 ask any more questions.
l磎 taking you somewhere.
l磍l meet you at the cloakroom.
Good evening.
Mom, l have to go, can l talk to you in private?
Of course, pumpkin.
Tell me,
when l saw you in Belleville, it was the first time since...
Since? Yes, of course, why?
You never came to my place?
To your place?
You don磘 remember
coming to do the dishes, for example?
The dishes? What a crazy idea!
My big boy is so cute!
At his age, he still believes in ghosts!
All right,
you can go!
Her, me and all the people here...
We chose to kill ourselves.
What happened, Sonya?
He was only feeding himself with my love.
When he left me, l was completely empty.
Frozen.
l couldn磘 bear it.
Death didn磘 make my pain go away,
but it gave me guidance,
and the Palace of Sweetness to soothe me.
So, baby boy? Looking for Mommy again?
Yes, l磎 a caviar importer.
l take big grains, small grains
from Vladivostok.
lt磗 at the other end of Russia!
Our habits are hard to kill.
They control our existences.
lt took me a few months
but l finally stopped wondering
if l was dead or alive.
My new life is very similar to my last one
except that everything is lighter,
easier...
Today, l am a happy man,
a normal man.
Michel? lt磗 me!
l just called to see how you磖e doing.
l磎 fine, Mom.
Are you working?
Yes, l am working.
You seem grumpy. What is it?
Did you sleep well?
l磎 okay, Mom.
Why don磘 you come over
for dinner tonight?
l磛e invited new friends you don磘 know.
Why not, okay...
Come with Sonya...
Listen, Mom, l don磘 know...
l磍l see. She may have other plans.
Are things okay between you two?
Mom!
l磎 sorry.
- So, l磍l see you at eight? - Fine.
See you tonight, pumpkin.
Michel,
are you okay?
l磎 fine, thanks.
Was that your mother?
Sam, you know my mother died 18 months ago.
l know. But, you said 创Mom创.
l didn磘 say 创Mom创. l said, 创Momo创!
As in my friend, 创Mohammed创. Not 创Mom创, 创Momo创.
Yes, as l finish these lines,
l am what you can call a happy man.
But there磗 still something that磗 bothering me.
l just turned 40,
and l磀 hate if anyone knew
that my mother calls me at work everyday.
Sous titrage : Nicolas Thomas C 2007, ELYTEL. Tous droits r閟erv閟.