What are you doing?
Can't you guess?
- I'm off. - So soon?
"A man's at his best properly dressed." It rhymes!
Here we go again.
Come here.
Don't open the curtains.
You were more affectionate last night.
I was?
Very affectionate.
I remember nothing. You must have been dreaming.
We were both wide awake, and you know it.
Then I yielded to temptation.
It's the last time.
It is?
As of today, I'm on the road to chastity.
Come now. I liked you better last night.
Last night was last night!
LOVE ON THE RUN
Here's breakfast.
No time. I'll get fired.
Serves you right. If you kept a few shirts here,
you'd save a whole hour.
- I also need a razor. - Use mine.
I like my own razor.
What do you need a razor for?
Don't tell me. I'd rather not know.
A normal man, if you know what I mean,
who sleeps with a woman, who enjoys sleeping with him. . .
If this normal man brought his razor and his clothes along,
they'd save a fortune in rent!
Many perfectly normal people
are creatures of habit.
Some are maniacs!
You're an old maniac, very old !
True, I'm old. But the elderly
have wisdom.
Your friend's watch. . .
You fixed it?
It needs a real watchmaker.
Digital watches are beyond me.
Never mind.
I've got a present for you.
Léautaud's Diaries!
You found all 1 9 volumes?
He had nothing but problems with women.
Poor Léautaud !
I'll tell you why.
He wanted to make love to his mother.
She didn't mind, but nothing ever happened.
Anyway, thanks for his diaries.
You're nicer than I thought.
May I put my hand there?
If you promise to keep it there.
I switched vacations with Emmanuel.
We can leave on July 31 .
So close the shop. We'll take off together.
To the country.
We'll drink warm milk, fresh from the cow!
Yuck!
My friend, Zenaida,
has invited us
to her housewarming. I said we'd go. Is that okay?
Sure, with pleasure! See you tonight.
Your phone's been busy for an hour!
I know. What is it?
You crazy? Have you forgotten?
Good God!
Our divorce decree. We must sign it in an hour.
- Hurry! - I'm shaving.
Come unshaven.
No, I'll pick you up in a cab.
Alphonse wants a word,
but keep it short.
Hey, Dad?
Can you take me to the station for our class trip?
What time?
I don't know. Here's Mom.
He must be there by 7 p.m.
I can't take him. I'm working.
I'm going to a party.
Cancel it. Alphonse needs you.
Okay. I'll be there.
I've got two seats for the Shapiro concert.
Want to come?
I'm busy. Do you want Paul Simon? If not, I'll put him away!
First, I want to listen.
In the booth. What a creep!
I'm sorry, no time to explain.
I can't go to the party tonight.
We can get there late.
I can't make it.
Why? Stop panting !
I can't explain now.
Someone's waiting for me.
I'll call you from the print shop.
How could you forget our divorce?
No one would believe it.
The incredible is often true.
I bet you've forgotten our wedding date.
February 26!
You actually remember!
It's Saint Nestor's Day.
Of course.
- Why the violin? - For a lesson.
You're giving a lesson at this hour?
So that's your violin !
It's so I can stay in a hotel tonight.
Stay here. I'll sleep in the chair.
You can have the bed.
No, not in the same room as you !
Have it your way. Not in the same room.
lmagine printing this in a newspaper.
Listen to this. It's about
the Common Market convention in Brussels. It says,
"At 1 2 p.m. the delegates retired to their rooms. Each man
"was provided with a girl in the sack."
I don't believe it.
It's true! lmagine reading that in Le Monde.
"Each man was provided with a girl in the sack."
- You're lying. - Read it yourself.
"The delegates retired to their rooms.
"Each man was provided with a midnight snack." You idiot!
Mrs Christine Doinel is next.
What about me?
Must be a mistake.
No, it's normal procedure.
Come, hurry.
We'll wait here.
I can't stay long. I'm meeting some friends later.
Do you mind?
Not at all.
- You're sure now? - I don't mind at all.
If you did, would you tell me?
No, I wouldn't. But I really don't mind.
Mr Doinel, to the Judge's Chambers.
Please be seated.
I'm seeing you separately
to make sure you both reached your decision
freely and without coercion.
Since our first meeting
three months ago, you've had time to consider
the consequences of your act.
Until very recently,
to get a divorce, you had to produce abusive letters from your spouse.
What if they hadn't written any?
I'd make some up and they'd copy them.
Can you reach that bottle?
You've forgotten?
Mrs Doinel to the Judge's Chambers.
I'll now read the clauses of the Settlement.
"Names of the parties:
"Mrs Doinel reverts to her maiden name of Christine Darbon."
At first, you wanted to keep your married name
because of your son.
We've talked it over with Alphonse, haven't we?
He understands.
He doesn't mind at all.
"Child Custody and Support:
"By mutual agreement the mother will have custody of the child.
"The father is granted visitation rights
"and may provide lodging for a period
"not in excess of half the annual vacation.
"Mr Doinel will pay Mrs Doinel
"as his share of child support a monthly alimony of 900 francs
"until such time as the child is self-supporting."
Please.
I will now read you the full Decree.
If I ask you for a favour, will you do it?
That depends.
Quibbling again !
Will you do it?
Try me.
Put your glasses on again.
"As judge of the Family Court
"I hereby declare that
"Antoine Doinel and Christine Doinel,
"née Darbon, born in Dijon, March 1 2, 1 951
"upon their joint petition, are granted a divorce.
"The settlement stipulates that
"both parties will bear the costs.
"If they fail to agree on the terms
"said costs will be equally divided."
No signatures?
What's all this?
I knew it! The press!
You're the first divorce under the new law.
Don't go!
Pictures! Hope they'll give us a few.
Funny!
Let's make a good impression.
You don't say hello?
How are you?
- It's so nice to see you. - You too.
See our debate on TV?
That prosecutor overdid it.
The law isn't so new.
It dates back to the Revolution. Right, Antoine?
Leave me out of it.
The lawyer assigned to the case.
I know that guy.
He's Antoine Doinel.
I met him years ago, at a Youth Concert.
I was impressed. He had his own flat and a job
with a record company. Real independent!
He's a client. Rather, his wife is.
They just got a divorce under the new law.
I can't believe it. Antoine divorced !
Does that call for condolences or congratulations?
Napoleon used the law to dump Josephine.
Are you going to take on the Draguignan case?
My friends tell me it's a nasty business.
But I'm tempted.
Take your friends' advice. They're right.
It's a messy case.
Still, I'd like to see the whole file.
That's why I'm going to Aix-en-Provence tonight.
Well then, good luck!
I'll need it.
Always running. Hasn't changed a bit!
Watch out for your suit!
In your Sunday best. Been to a wedding?
No, not a wedding. In fact, just the opposite!
- Your digital watch. - Did she fix it?
- She couldn't. - Too bad.
- What's this? - A rush job.
I did half to help you out.
Here are the last pages.
You're a real pal !
I'm fed up. Too many problems.
What good is a divorce if you always wind up
with the same kind of girl?
I bet the new one's just like the old one.
You only fall for nice girls.
The truth of the matter is,
I don't just fall for the girl.
I fall for the whole family: father, mother. . .
I like girls with nice parents.
Is Sabine tall or short?
In between, about up to here.
I remember when you only went out with tall girls.
Very tall.
I liked them at least a head taller.
Does the name Doinel ring a bell?
Antoine Doinel. His novel came out two years ago.
You wanted a Dalloz.
I still do, but that's not the one.
I also want a novel written by Antoine Doinel.
One thing at a time. First, which Dalloz?
His book on child-murderers.
It's that case in Draguignan. I'm in a spot.
I see you couldn't care less!
Listen, Colette.
In here, you're just another customer.
Thanks!
Well, to me, you're much more than a salesman !
Don't I know it!
I wish you'd stop carrying on about nothing.
It's for you, Mr Xavier.
Sabine. . .
I can't tonight. Is tomorrow all right?
See you then, my dear Sabine.
If I'm not mistaken,
Sabine is a girl's name.
That's right.
Well, I'm sorry to bother you by buying books
in your very own bookstore.
Now I remember.
The title of that book had the word
"Love" in it. Yes, I said "Love!"
Then try a second-hand bookstore.
Listen to me!
The titles I sell don't have the word "Love."
He's incredible!
What a bastard !
Love And Other Troubles.
That's it!
Let's see your bread.
You ate some.
Come over here.
Put that down.
Right or left?
The left, sir.
How much do I owe you?
39 francs.
Xavier's so handsome. He looks like Napoleon.
I'm so glad to have this book.
I can read it tonight.
The train for Aix-en-Provence leaving at 7:02 p.m. , platform 1 5
Gare de Lyon.
Stay there.
I'm at the station.
What for?
I'd forgotten a very important date.
I'll explain later.
You promised to come tonight.
I didn't know about Alphonse's trip.
I'm with him now at the station.
I could have come. To meet your son.
I'm dying to.
lsn't it high time?
Not right now. It might upset him.
You're so complicated.
Ask your wife, your ex-wife.
You know I lead an orderly life.
I can't change overnight.
I'm fed up with your mania for secrecy.
Alphonse meets too many outsiders.
"Outsiders." Thanks a lot!
If you take me for a hooker,
then pay me each time we make love.
You're not being funny.
Look, maybe you can afford to waste time.
The train won't wait. Neither will my work.
I've got no time
to fool around on the phone. I'm hanging up.
That's your coach, I think.
Run, my son !
Be nice to little girls.
Give your daddy a kiss.
Hold on, Dad !
I am.
Take care.
Which one is mine?
Number 51 .
When does the train leave?
In six minutes.
Is there a diner?
It's up front.
When does it leave?
Your train leaves very soon.
In exactly 1 5 minutes.
I bet that woman's a spy.
Your violin, Alphonse. Practise well.
Practise to become a great musician.
And if I don't?
If you don't practise,
you'll wind up a music critic.
Watch out!
It's leaving.
I first saw Colette at a concert. They were playing Berlioz.
She sat five rows ahead of me, near the aisle.
I spotted her immediately.
I knew her name and address. We'd even spoken.
But I was nowhere. As I told my friend,
"I've goofed on everything.
"She's not even my type.
"She talks like a boy, treats me like a pal.
"When I'm being serious, she just laughs at me.
"Yet, I freeze my ass off waiting at her door."
How do you know you're in love?
When you become self-destructive.
He may be right.
We made a date for the following week.
But the next day...
Look who's here!
What's up?
I've got two seats to the lecture on electronic music.
I'm sorry. I've got homework this afternoon.
How about a movie tonight?
I can't. I must finish this work by tomorrow.
I see.
Can I come in?
No, some other time. So long.
Her father looked austere
but I liked him at once.
You still have your parents?
Yes, but I never see them.
We don't get along.
What a shame.
It must be hard on your mother.
I guess it's my fault.
I used to run away from home.
- Colette wouldn't dare! - Wanna bet!
Well, for me, family. . .
Question:
Where is one better off than with one's family?
Answer: Anywhere else!
I read that in a book.
She's not like that.
Don't be too sure.
Can I have more wine?
Me, too.
Dear Antoine, Your love letter is so eloquent.
It suggests a man of experience.
I'm going to hear Le Roux tonight. Will you be there?
Thanks for the books.
My mother says you look romantic,
probably because of your long hair.
See you tonight. Colette.
Colette?
Yes, hello there.
My poor head.
Why didn't you show up? Were you sick?
I said I might come.
But some friends took me to a party.
Real nuts. We carried on all night long.
It was hilarious.
But after a while, it got to be too wild.
We wound up at, it must have been 5 a.m.
Can I come by later on?
If you like, but I may be out.
We all said we'd try to meet again today.
- See you later. - You will if I'm in!
I vowed to banish Colette from my life.
I stood by my decision
and refrained from contacting her.
He's got some nerve.
Fate decided otherwise: her family moved and now lived
right across the street from me.
Christine was quite different although she, too, was musical.
She attended the Conservatory, studied the violin.
I'd known her several months.
Seeing her behind a window one day, I decided to marry her.
I called her "Peggy Proper."
"Peggy" for her British reserve.
"Proper" because she was.
Christine was always nicer to me than I was to her.
I forgot my handkerchief. Can you lend me one?
I've only got Kleenex.
I never blow my nose in paper!
- Well, so long. - Where's your violin?
I'm not giving a lesson.
What, then?
Do you always tell me where you go?
See you tonight.
DRESSMAKER - GYNAECOLOGlST - NOTARY PUBLlC
Dinner is served. A gentleman is waiting for you.
Really?
Oh, yes, I'll be right there.
Xavier, my love, I knew you'd come. I hoped you would.
Antoine, it's you ! I'm sorry.
No, I'm sorry to disappoint you.
Never mind.
I saw you at the station.
I never thought you'd be on this train.
So good to see you.
Same here.
I'm really glad. I've got so much to tell you.
Sit down.
A surprise, but a nice one!
What a strange day.
I didn't mean to leave Paris.
Really?
But seeing you was a shock.
A shock?
An emotional shock. I had to see you.
The train was pulling out. I jumped on.
I don't even have a ticket!
I can't believe it.
Colette,
I often think of you.
How long has it been?
Stop!
No figures, no dates. We don't need that!
We're just two people happy to meet again.
I've already spent time with you today.
It's embarrassing. That book is over two years old.
I've changed since.
Don't forget, it's fiction.
A bit autobiographical, but fiction.
You said it!
I just read that part about my family moving.
Here's how it goes:
"I vowed to banish Colette
"from my life.
"I stood by my decision
"and refrained from contacting her again."
Fair enough.
"Fate decided otherwise: her family moved
"and now lived right across the street
"from me.
"I couldn't turn down their invitations
"without being rude."
Sharp and well written, but it's a lie.
A pack of lies.
You gave up your room
to move across the street from us.
My parents were so surprised that day
when we got home.
Do you see what I see?
It's Antoine!
What a fantastic coincidence!
What happened?
Do you live here, now?
Yes, I do.
Since when?
This afternoon !
- Can we come up? - Sure.
He's all moved in !
Fantastic! Hot and cold running water!
You can see our windows.
But the sun shines down on our side!
You're right.
But it worked better with the roles inverted.
You don't say.
And I merged several people
into one character.
I know all about creative devices.
But I'm right in assuming the girl from the Youth Concerts
is in fact me?
Let's get back to you.
Are you married?
Yesterday, the answer was "yes."
I was married five years. We separated three years ago.
At least, for the first time.
Our repeated separations were more turbulent
than our years together.
An outsider can't presume to judge, but. . .
Did you really try to save your marriage?
No, on the contrary.
In writing my book,
the memories of my past made me edgy, nasty.
Christine was no help. She disapproved of my work.
So I started playing around
to make up for what I'd missed before my marriage.
We had arguments every day.
They led to our first separation.
A taxi, please. 1 7, rue Decazes.
Six minutes? Thank you.
Going out?
Yes I am.
But you can stay here with Alphonse.
- There's food. - I'll walk you down.
Good night, be good !
Watch TV if you like.
Take care of him.
This Balthus is yours.
I gave it to you.
It's yours!
Remember how you used to say,
"I'm taking my keys in case we fight!"
You're in good spirits.
Why not?
I know whenever you come to see the baby,
you expect me to give you hell. Right?
Admit it!
Absolutely not.
You mustn't kiss me.
Oh? I thought. . .
I just thought.
Let me go!
It was to help you.
I don't need help!
You're so nasty tonight. How can you be so nasty!
You want everything your way.
A kiss when you want it, to be left alone when you want it.
I'm not at your disposal.
Not any more.
Enough.
I'm sorry I blew up.
- I understand you. - Here we go again.
"I'm a bastard,
"you're too good for me."
I never pull that.
You have, 1 00 times!
Save it all for your novel !
Well, my novel's almost finished.
It's all I can think about. That's why I'm so screwed up.
Once it's done, we'll get along better.
Don't send me a copy. I won't read it.
I dislike the whole idea
of writing about one's youth to smear one's parents.
I'm not smart, but I know this:
Writing to settle old scores isn't art!
I've wondered about that.
That's what's bothering me.
Do as you like, but leave me alone.
I've never had much pride.
I can tell you I still love you.
But I'd rather not see you.
When you visit the baby, I won't be home.
Where's that cab?
They said six minutes.
Anyway, I hope you're happier now.
I wouldn't say that.
It's hopeless. She and I hardly talk any more.
You can always smile.
That's all we do!
By evening, I've got lockjaw
from all that smiling !
Restaurants are hell. Between courses,
I'm expected to make small talk.
I can't even eat!
It's awful.
I told her I was going away for three days.
I don't envy you.
Where are you going?
I don't know.
Can I drop you off?
No, I'm okay.
Just a minute!
Do you want me to stay with you?
We could go to a movie.
No, I'll just walk around.
You're sweet.
Kiss me.
You're my sister, my daughter, my mother. . .
I'd hoped to be your wife as well !
During one of our reconciliations
a newcomer joined us.
Liliane was half femme fatale, half tomboy.
She was the antithesis of Christine
and all Christine aspired to be.
I've always wanted to play.
Shouldn't I buy my own violin?
It's too soon. Just rent one.
See you Saturday.
I'll tell you where to rent a violin.
Great. Goodbye.
Spying !
Who is that girl?
She has a lovely face.
Really lovely. She's my new pupil.
Violin lessons at her age?
How old is she?
I didn't ask to see her I. D.
Anyway, I think it's great.
Her parents couldn't afford violin lessons.
Poor thing.
- Now, she can pay her own way. - What does she do?
Children's books.
They're the hardest!
She writes and illustrates them.
I showed her the drawings I did for Alphonse.
She liked them. At least, she said she did.
Not bad !
Looks like the knights of the Round Table.
You're close. They were commissioned by
Eric Rohmer for his film.
Who did them?
We both did.
Liliane did the faces. I did the costumes.
Who's that dude? Lancelot of the Lake?
No, it's Perceval of Wales.
They were inseparable. Sometimes, Liliane slept over.
Alphonse had grown.
Did you sleep well?
Yes, dad. Hey, can you shut it?
Shut what?
Shut your trap!
Doing okay, Alphonse?
Hey, can you shut it?
Yes, of course.
You can?
I'll try and shut it.
Shut what?
Shut your trap!
Since her arrival,
I'd had no intimacy with Christine.
So I rented a summer house.
And there she was again.
One, two, three. . .
Now, left foot forward. . .
One and two. . .
Your hands like this.
I'll never make it.
You will. Let's try again.
It was as if they wanted to exchange personalities.
If Antoine knew, we'd never hear the end of it.
You know, he's reading Colette.
Her books on backstage life, the CIaudine series.
So he's got lesbians on the brain.
Know what he said to me?
He said,
"Christine, I think
"Liliane has designs on you.
"That girl thrives on perversity,
"you know what I mean? If I were you, I'd be careful."
The old, familiar pattern.
Husbands need breathing space.
They leave, come back and leave again.
One day, they find the door bolted.
I didn't mean to depress you.
What will you do? I mean about your ticket?
Get off at the next stop.
No stop until Lyon !
I don't know.
Let's go back to my sleeper, okay?
Come on.
Are you mad? He was all alone.
He nearly fell out.
What kind of parents are you?
- Are you all right? - Yes.
Can you open my sleeper?
There you are.
- The other seemed nicer. - But it's taken.
May I look?
If you wish.
Very sorry.
Thanks, anyway.
I don't believe it.
What a creep!
Hand me a pillow.
You write well, Antoine.
But you won't be a real writer
until you create a story that is wholly fictional.
I've started it. Real fiction. I've even got the title.
Remembrance of Things to Come.
It's a fine title, it's very good.
What's it about?
It's the story of a guy
who comes out of the toilet in the café.
He wants to make a call,
but someone is in the only phone booth.
Our hero can't help overhearing.
"You're an egomaniac!"
The guy's excited, in fact, angry.
My hero gathers he's breaking up with a woman.
"Drop dead !"
At one point, the guy takes out a photograph,
the picture of a woman,
and tears it to shreds.
After throwing the pieces to the floor,
he hangs up in a rage and storms out.
My hero, once the man has left,
goes into the booth,
picks up the pieces of the photograph.
At home, he becomes more and more fascinated
as he pieces the puzzle together.
On the back, the photographer's imprint
is the first lead in his investigation.
I forgot. The moment he sees her face on the picture,
he falls madly in love with the unknown woman.
Go on, it's fascinating ! What happens?
Patiently, craftily, obstinately,
my hero tracks the girl down
and arranges a chance meeting.
He never tells her he loves her, or how he found her.
Fantastic!
Wait. He's in love with her.
But does she love him?
That's where I'm stuck.
She'll probably respond to his love.
But their affair is bound to wind up as usual.
Disappointment, arguments and a break-up.
All the things I already dealt with in my first book.
What a letdown !
Not that!
You have a strange concept of relationships.
All you care about is boy meets girl.
Once they're a couple,
for you it's all downhill. Try harder.
You must find something.
What is it?
Don't move.
I was asked to give you this.
- Any reply? - None.
What are you doing? Get off!
Let go of it!
Forgive me.
I won't. You think you can make up for everything by apologising !
You haven't changed, have you?
Neither have you.
Now, I understand
what compelled me to jump on this train.
Let me kiss you.
No, I won't. Do you know why?
It takes two to kiss!
You haven't learned a thing from what happened to us in the past.
Antoine, I liked you, but I didn't love you.
You tried to badger me into loving you,
or corner me by winning over my parents.
I still remember how you'd pounce on me,
like a dog on a bone, when we were at the movies.
You're no different now, still as self-centred.
You saw the porter giving me a message.
You didn't even ask about it!
Mere discretion.
No, sheer indifference.
What have we talked about for the past two hours? You !
Some discretion !
Even if you don't care, I'll tell you what I've become.
The message was from that gorilla, the man in the corridor.
I can make 1 000 francs by sleeping with him tonight.
Times are tough, Antoine.
I've got a law degree, but no work.
Still, an attractive girl can always get by.
My speciality is night trains.
I give 1 0% to the porter.
Get the picture? Right now, because of you, I'm losing 1 000 francs.
I think I'd better leave.
It's Antoine.
Tell him you haven't seen me all day.
You don't know where I am.
I want to see Sabine.
She's not in today.
Really?
All day?
I'll call her.
Did he leave? I'm going home.
I lost something !
Something important?
I lost a photograph.
Want one of me?
Drop dead.
Sabine, open up.
I know you're in there.
Phone me, so I can hang up on you.
You want me to apologise?
I'm sorry I hung up on you. Listen to me.
I'm listening.
I can't talk this way.
Then save it for your book!
That's the trouble. I can't write when you're mad at me.
You influence me,
because of you, I've changed my ending.
No suicide. The hero decides to live.
You're right. Why incite others to despair while you yourself
enjoy life?
It's hypocritical.
Right. I wish you'd stop being so hostile.
But I feel hostile towards you !
About our vacation. . .
Sorry, I've made other plans. I'm going away by myself.
- Where to? - 2000 miles from Paris.
Open up. I lost an important document in your place.
It might convince you.
Convince me of what?
Of my good faith.
Wait there.
Look. Take your letters back.
I've got no use for that pack of lies.
"Sabine, my love,
"I hurried home to write to you.
"I can't even go to the movies without you.
"I left you an hour ago. It seems a lifetime.
"We just met and you're leaving."
I'll be back in three days.
Will you be faithful to me?
Of course I will !
What about you?
I have no choice. I'm totally
under your spell, you bastard.
Good. Stay that way.
But you said you weren't jealous and I was free.
I don't plan to. I just want to know.
True, I'm not jealous. Do as you please.
But try and be faithful to me,
at least in your head.
Let's shake on it.
It's a deal.
First to fail is a worm !
Here are the galleys.
The book spells out everything General de Gaulle did
on May 30, 1 968, when he disappeared for a whole day.
The press is dying to get hold of this book.
The boss says it's top secret.
Really?
Yes, there's only one set of proofs,
and the type will be destroyed right after printing.
Keep it in the safe. I'm off.
Don't tell me the combination !
She was hurt by the misunderstandings between you.
Nobody understood her.
People assumed she was bitter. That wasn't it.
She just couldn't stand hypocrisy.
So she was sore at everybody:
the press, clergy, shopkeepers, politicians.
Did you know that, at heart,
your mother was an anarchist?
Maybe so.
I never thought of my mother as an anarchist.
Of course, with me, she wasn't like that.
She was like a little bird.
A little bird.
After your father's death,
he and I were always good friends,
her eyesight began to fail, but she wouldn't wear glasses.
But we managed anyway.
I'd read out loud to her.
One hour every night,
sometimes two hours.
You still like books?
Yes, I do, Mr Lucien.
When you were a kid,
you were always buried in a book.
Remember the first time we met?
At the Edith Piaf concert.
But we'd seen each other before that.
lmagine her shock seeing you in the street
when you were supposed to be in school.
I didn't know you. I asked her,
"Which one's your son?"
You seemed much taller.
That's because you were so small.
Here you are!
The extra homework made you sick
and your parents fell for it.
What pretext did you wangle from them this time?
Let's see their note.
- I haven't any. - Is that so?
You won't get away with it. Not this time!
It's my mother, Sir.
What about your mother?
She just died.
I'm sorry, son. I didn't know.
Doinel !
Excuse me, son.
Simonot!
The Hare.
By Jean Richepin.
Sit down, boys.
Just wait till I get you home!
To tell you the truth,
I felt bad that you missed her funeral.
I couldn't help it.
I was in an army jail in Germany.
The C.O. sent for me.
He gave me three days off for the funeral,
but he couldn't issue my travel order.
I couldn't afford a ticket, so I stayed in jail.
I was puzzled by your absence,
but I felt sure it wasn't indifference.
Your mother loved you.
In a strange way, perhaps, but she really cared.
It wasn't easy to get a plot in Montmartre cemetery.
But I insisted.
She loved that area.
She's buried right next to Marguerite Gautier.
You know who she was?
I don't think so.
The heroine of CamiIIe, by Alexandre Dumas.
I thought he'd invented her.
No, she really existed.
Your mother's buried next to her. Didn't you notice?
Frankly, I've never visited my mother's grave.
I didn't even know where she was buried.
I can hardly believe my ears!
Know what?
When do you report back to work?
At 2:30 p.m.
It's 1 9 francs. That's 9.50 each.
After your mother's death
I sort of broke down.
So I quit my Civil Service job.
I was fed up with bowing and scraping.
Then, I set up a small business on my own.
Very small.
I rent dress clothes by the day.
The grave's this way.
By now, you surely realise that
your parents can't be blamed for all your troubles.
Some were your fault as well.
I'd like to see you again.
You may not believe this,
but the more I look at you,
the more you remind me of her.
How sad it all is!
Anyway, I'm glad you've finally seen your mother's grave.
By the way,
here's my card.
If you ever need a tuxedo,
you're a size 36. For you, it's free!
Thanks, Mr Lucien. If I ever need one. . .
May I kiss you?
"My darling Sabine,
"whom I love and who shuns me.
"I must tell you my strange meeting today.
"I saw Mr Lucien.
"He was one of my mother's lovers,
"the main one.
"His questions about my mother reminded me
"of the psychologist. In there, we called her
"the spychologist."
Your parents say you're a liar.
Well, I lie sometimes,
because if I told the truth, they wouldn't believe me. So I lie.
"Mr Lucien said my mother was like a little bird."
A little bird !
"Were we talking about the same person?
"Still, she taught me that love is the only thing that matters.
"When she came home, I'd pretend to be asleep.
"Love's the antithesis of prison.
"I was only 1 3, but the spychologist wanted to know about my love life."
Have you ever slept with a girl?
No, but some guys told me where to go if I felt like it.
They said the girl hung around Saint-Denis.
So I went there and. . .
The girls bawled me out.
So I got scared and beat it.
I went back there a few times.
Once, a man asked what I was doing.
He was North African. I told him because he knew the girls.
He said he knew one. . .
a young one who went with guys my age.
So he took me to her hotel.
But she wasn't there that day.
We waited for over two hours and then I split.
"I started late with girls.
"Then it was as if I wanted to make up for lost time.
"I needed constant reassurance.
"Would this wide-eyed girl like me?
"The student? The salesgirl?
"The typist at the Ministry?
"The night clerk's daughter?
"One fine day..."
A fine day, indeed.
"I met you, Sabine,
"and stopped looking at other women.
"Remember our first date at the movies?
"You clung to me because of the violence."
It's horrible. I hate boxing !
"I was so glad you hated boxing !
"But now you're rejecting me.
"I feel hopeless.
"I may kill off the hero of my novel."
Wait. If they're not legally married,
he can't be the kid's stepfather.
The boy was actually his own son,
but he claimed his wife's lover was the father.
His defence is based on that?
At the moment, he's not concerned with his defence.
When the mob saw him
spit on the kid's body, they went wild.
Despite the police, they almost lynched him.
He doesn't want a lawyer.
I was appointed by the Court, but it's hopeless.
All he does is curse me.
That's why we felt that. . .
Don't tell me. You felt a woman might tame the brute.
You know how the public feels about child murderers.
Why should I feel any different?
Even so, I'm willing to meet him.
But first, I have to examine the evidence.
You might as well go home.
He just tried to kill himself.
An hour ago. He's in the prison infirmary.
- Slit his wrists. - A piece of glass.
From his watch?
He broke the light bulb in his cell.
You have a week to make up your mind.
We'll be in touch with you.
I shouldn't admit it, but I'm relieved.
I need time to think.
Shall we take you to the station?
I'd appreciate it. I'm really upset.
I want a friend to meet me in Paris. May I call him?
BARNERlAS BOOKSTORE
Barnerias. . . Sabine Barnerias!
That does it!
I thought these things only happened in soap operas!
A married man passing himself off as a bachelor!
I've almost broken off with him.
It may be the dumbest thing I ever did.
And you?
Me?
The same as usual.
It's a deadlock.
I'm stumped.
We're both alike. We'll probably wind up together.
I don't get this movie.
I thought he was the killer.
Have you got a handkerchief?
Only Kleenex. Want one?
I never blow my nose in paper.
Is Mr Xavier in?
No, he isn't.
Fine, I don't give a damn !
I must reach him immediately.
Give me his wife's number.
He's not married.
Then, his ex-wife's number.
I assure you he's never been married.
He hasn't?
Who's this? His fairy godmother?
That's his sister, Sabine. Don't you know her?
She works in a record shop.
Me?
Yes, you.
Are you Sabine Barnerias?
No, I'm not.
Sorry.
I'm not Sabine Barnerias.
But you and I belong to the same sorority.
We're both ex-girlfriends of Antoine Doinel.
I saw you the other day at the Divorce Court. I'm a lawyer.
I'm also Colette, the girl from the Youth Concerts.
Oh, of course!
Going to Sabine's?
Yes, I am.
I rang. She's not home. I don't know what to do.
Let's wait for her together. Somewhere more comfortable.
Sure, there are benches in the courtyard.
I suspect you're here on a special mission.
Quite right. And you?
Me too, but it's for myself.
I know her brother. I was tying up some loose ends.
I just read Antoine's book. To you, it's ancient history,
but it shook me up.
Shall we sit down?
That heel ! He makes me feel guilty retroactively.
So I'm trying to help him out.
I've always suspected he married me only because you turned him down.
It wasn't that way at all.
When I met him, I was a student.
He had a job but we were both too young to think of marriage.
Sit down. Have you eaten yet?
You have?
I ate, thanks.
Are you sure?
I can whip up an omelette.
No thanks, I'll just have a tangerine.
You want a plate for the peels?
Don't bother. I'll use yours.
Not again !
- Who is it? - I don't know.
It's a real parade today.
Hello. Come in.
Antoine had won my parent's affection.
He came by often.
He didn't realise that now I regarded him as a kid cousin.
I longed for
more thrilling adventures.
This is Albert. I've told you about him.
My stepfather.
Antoine. . .
I believe you've already met.
- We met once. - I'll get my coat.
Got a cigarette?
I'm ready. Let's go.
Good night.
Antoine also longed for thrills.
Liliane and I had become close friends.
She spent a summer with us.
Antoine argued with her constantly.
I'm not excited, I'm calm.
I always have anxieties. So what?
Stop fighting ! Lunch is ready.
One day, I ran short of cash while shopping,
so I came home early. The door was shut.
Another fight, I said to myself.
The day before, I'd asked Antoine to be nicer to Liliane.
It was a shock.
An even bigger one for them !
Antoine's justification was typical of him.
He'd given her a book.
He noticed that to protect it
she'd made a dust-jacket with a newspaper. This so moved him.
That he hopped into bed with her!
- Right! - That's perfectly logical !
Strangely enough, I wasn't upset.
My lack of jealousy made me realise I was no longer in love with him.
I'd married too young. I wasn't yet an adult. We separated.
He lived with Liliane until she decided to leave him.
Then too, he asked me to talk her out of it.
Don't leave him.
He'll fall apart.
He's always falling apart.
He needs a wife, a mistress, a kid sister and a wet-nurse.
I can't fill all those functions.
You're being unfair to him.
I can't help it. He wants everyone to pay for his unhappy childhood.
Liliane really wanted to live alone and adopt a child.
Which reminds me,
Antoine said he met you
one day with your baby.
I must kiss you.
Albert, you remember Antoine.
Albert, my husband.
What are you doing here?
Waiting for a friend.
You're wondering if it's a boy or a girl.
You must come over some evening.
Do you have my number?
I think so.
Well, you haven't used it lately.
You never used to be afraid of the phone.
See you soon.
Is your child a girl or a boy?
She was a little girl, Julie.
She's not with me because she's dead.
She was run over by a car.
Mother!
I didn't want any more children.
I didn't dare. I went back to school. I did my best.
But for my husband and me, it was over.
We split up.
It's been five years.
I've just agreed to defend that man in Draguignan.
He murdered his child.
He beat his 3-year-old son to death.
I may be crazy, but I've decided to take on his case.
I think I won't wait for Sabine.
Why should I worry about Antoine
when my own life is so confused?
The things lawyers have to do!
I love a man. He runs a bookshop.
I love Sabine's brother.
I must tell him I love him before it's too late.
I can't waste time. Wait!
Take this. It's a picture of Sabine.
If Antoine gets it back, I can't explain it all,
but it may lead to a happy ending.
A letter for your pal.
Wake up. It's 7 a.m.
This came for you.
I made love to you right away.
I wanted to as much as you did.
Later on, I asked you where we stood.
You wouldn't answer my question.
I decided to protect myself.
I don't know much,
but I'm sure that two people who love each other
should share everything.
What happens to one, happens to both without exceptions.
If I'm wrong, I don't understand love.
I knew what I expected of you.
When I realised you couldn't decide
between life with me, or without me.
I knew I had to be careful.
I did my best to control my feelings for you.
I failed.
Since I hate suffering, I decided to stop seeing you.
I let you pick me up in the store. It was fun.
I don't regret it.
But in this shop, pick-up artists are a dime a dozen.
How can you say that?
I'm not a pick-up artist.
Yes, you are.
I can spot them before they walk in
from the way they ogle me through the window.
I came here looking for you.
I'd already known you for two weeks.
- It's not true! - It isn't?
Of course not.
Listen to me carefully.
One day last year, I went into a cafe to make a phone call.
The phone booth was in the basement.
There was a man inside.
He was yelling.
He was in rage.
I overheard him.
I gathered he was screaming at a woman,
breaking things off with her.
At one point,
the man became violent.
He took a picture out of his pocket,
like a postcard.
Wedging the phone on his shoulder,
he tore up the picture
just like that.
He threw the pieces to the floor.
After hanging up, he stormed out.
So I went in, into the booth.
I don't know why I did it,
but I picked up all the pieces
and put them in my pocket.
Back home, I went to work
and constructed the picture with scotch tape.
After a while,
as if by magic,
the puzzle was assembled.
A woman's face emerged.
I fell in love,
madly in love with her.
I ran to the photographer
whose imprint was on the picture.
He had sold his shop. No one knew where he'd moved to.
I searched all of Paris
to find him.
I asked everyone,
went everywhere.
I bothered strangers
who reacted angrily.
Often, I had to run like hell.
I tailed people.
At long last,
I managed to track the woman down.
I learned her name.
In time, I found out
where she worked.
During all this time,
the picture of the woman I already loved never left me.
Want to see it?
Look!
I remember. You wanted a non-existent record.
I concealed my feelings for you.
I even made you laugh.
You came back again and made me fall in love with you.
I couldn't figure you out.
I thought, "He hasn't even noticed I'm a girl."
Yet my heart was pounding away.
You sure fooled me.
If I'd known. . .
Why didn't you tell me sooner?
I've concealed my feelings all my life.
I've always been evasive.
You don't trust anyone.
I trust you Sabine. I really do.
There's no way of knowing if it will last.
- Why not? - It might.
Let's pretend.
- We'll see. - Yes, we'll see.
Do you have Alain Souchon's last record?
You're in luck. It just came in.
It's called Love On The Run.
Can we hear it?
In the booth.