THE LAST METRO I used to go dancing
At the ball of Saint-Jean
He kissed me and stole my heart
How could I not lose my mind
When he held me prisoner in his arms
I believed in his words of love
He seduced me with his eyes
I loved him so
My handsome man from Saint-Jean
I was under his spell
Helpless under his embrace
I belonged to him
I knew he lied to me
But I kept loving him
How could I not lose my mind
When he held me prisoner in his arms
I believed in his words of love
He seduced me with his eyes
I loved him so
My handsome man from Saint-Jean
I was under his spell
Helpless under his embrace
Paris, September 1942.
For two years,
France's northern part has been occupied by the German army.
The occupied and the free zone
are officially divided by a borderline.
In the occupied zones, the curfew is imposed at 11:00 p.m.,
and for the Parisians, it is terribly important not to miss the last metro.
Hungry Parisians wait on line to buy food.
They have no heat at home and flock to theaters for warmth.
Movies and theaters play to full houses. Seats must be reserved in advance.
At the Montmartre Theatre, rehearsals are under way,
though its director, Lucas Steiner, has fled France.
He didn't have much choice.
Excuse me, miss. Excuse me. I noticed you. I wondered -
- Know what time it is? It's 6:40. - No, thank you. I've got a watch.
- Are you lost? You need directions? - No, not at all. I live around here.
- In that case, good-bye, sir! - Wait.
I wouldn't want you to think I'm trying to pick you up.
I mean it. - Why would I think a thing like that?
I was in the café, making a call.
I noticed you. I don't know. Your eyes -
And your expression. So I thought -
- You thought? - Well, today is my lucky day.
I'm alone, so I thought we might have a drink and talk.
Listen, I'm not thirsty, and I have nothing to say. Let me go.
You've got me all wrong. Do you think I do this every day?
- No. - No, only every other day.
- You're beginning to bore me. - Okay, have it your way.
No, wait. Let me explain, please.
Do you know what it's like to be attracted to someone?
Please believe me.
I haven't picked up a strange woman in four years.
I should feel honored.
Look. That's enough. Do you want a public scandal?
Think it over.
I want something. A name, an address.
Do you have a phone number? My name is Bernard.
You want my number? You really want it?
Yes! Great! Let me write it down.
Odéon 84-00.
Odéon 84-00 Hey, who are you kidding?
That's the number for the time.
- Who's that boy? - It's Jacquol; the son of the landlady.
She works at the theater.
What did that guy do to you?
He didn't hurt me. He patted me on the head.
Then let's go home and wash your hair.
Jacquot, come back here at once! That's enough.
What is it?
Excuse me, is the theater closed? I've got an appointment.
No. Go in through the backstage door over there behind you.
- Thank you. Excuse me. - It's all right.
Good evening. I've got an appointment.
- You're Bernard Granger? - Yes.
Of course. We're expecting you.
I'll take you to Madame Steiner. Follow me.
It's a nice theater.
It's a change from the Grand Guignol, that's for sure.
It's at least twice as big. I've been here before in the audience.
I saw Mme. Steiner in The Cherry Orchard by Chekhov.
- Any news of Lucas Steiner? - The boss? He was lucky.
One day they came looking for him around noon.
- Here? At the theater? The Germans? - No, the French.
They were everywhere. The building was surrounded.
That morning, Lucas Steiner had already fled Paris.
- I heard he's in America. - South America.
Or around there. I hope he'll be able to work there.
Over there are the administrative offices. Good evening, Raymond.
Good evening, Mr. Merlin.
Bernard Granger. - I recognized you.
- Good evening. - Nice to meet you. Good night.
Merlin's our business manager. He handles the payroll.
Wait here. - Thank you.
- Mme. Steiner will be with you shortly. - Okay.
Marion, I know as well as you do that Rosen's Aryan certificate is a fake.
But believe me, nobody will check it with a magnifying glass.
He doesn't even have a work permit.
If he claims he lost it, he'll be able to get a duplicate.
With all the connections we have -
We may need them for something more important.
But with the papers he's got, he's managed to work so far.
He's been working on a film, and no one has asked him any questions
He's lucky they're so careless.
But here, we stick to the rules.
No permit, no work.
What can I tell Rosen?
Tell him the truth: Marion Steiner doesn't want Jews in her theater.
Rosen, please follow me.
I didn't know you were here.
I'll be right back. - Yes.
I'll go get Marion.
So, Mr. Cottins, did you explain my case to Mme. Steiner?
What did she say?
Sorry, Rosen. She won't hire Jewish actors.
Now I've heard everything.
I'd expect this anywhere else,
but never in Lucas Steiner's own theater.
It's outrageous.
- Come in. - Hold it. Hold it.
- I'd like to get something straight. - What?
I was thrilled to play here, in a real theater, in a real play,
but if I must take my pants off to prove I'm not a Jew, thanks, but no thanks.
- No. - No, thank you.
Besides, I refuse to take the part of another actor.
No, no. You've got it all wrong. That actor I just turned down
wasn't being considered for the role of the tutor, but as the gamekeeper
in the third act at the end of the play.
- No, because - - Believe me.
- Because that kind of situation - - Believe me, Granger.
You were my first choice for Marion's leading man.
You must understand our position.
We're not sure yet we'll be able to perform.
We're still waiting on the censor's permit.
This is Bernard Granger. - Hello.
- Hello, madame. - I've heard only great things about you.
I spoke with people who went to the Grand Guignol for the first time
just to see you.
And Jean-Loup is never wrong.
At first I wasn't sure about the Grand Guignol,
but finally, I enjoyed playing in The Skeleton in the Closet.
Unfortunately, I never saw it because I don't go out at night.
My husband used to manage everything here.
I enjoyed knowing nothing about the paperwork and the business details.
I had to learn fast.
Let's discuss your contract.
- Excuse me? Here? Right now? - Let's get it over with.
Tell me. How much do you make at the Grand Guignol?
I was just looking for you. Here's the script.
Read it religiously. Meditate on it, my child.
- This one? - Yes, thanks.
I'm glad, because I couldn't find it at the theater bookshop.
I'm not surprised. It's never been published.
- I've never heard of it. - It's a Norwegian play
by a Norwegian playwright, Karen Bergen.
You don't get more Norwegian than that!
Lucas discovered it and had it translated.
Do you speak Norwegian?
- No. - Neither do I.
But I bet you the critics will pan the translation. Just you watch.
- Hello, Nadine! - Hello, Marion.
- Do you know Bernard Granger? - Why? Is he here?
- In my office. - I don't know him,
but we almost met.
Hello. We have a friend in common.
Lucien. We were expecting you at his party.
Massoulier? I couldn't come.
We'll be seeing each other again. I'm signing the contract.
I hereby declare that I am not Jewish,
and to the best of my knowledge, neither my parents
or grandparents are or were Jewish.
- So, how did it go? - We're in business.
Great. Now we'll see a lot of each other. So long!
So long!
You never really wanted to be an actress.
- I enjoyed the job I had. - I know.
If Lucas hadn't kidnapped you, you'd still be in the fashion business.
Come on. Tell the truth.
Right, and that's not all. He said that if I'd refused to follow him,
he would have asked Coco Chanel to fire me.
It sounds just like him.
- Mme. Steiner, can I put out the lights? - Yes.
- Oh, you're here. - I was waiting for you, Jean-Loup.
Right.
Oh, shit. Daxiat.
I forgot we had a dinner date.
- You're free. I'll see you later. - Okay. Good night.
Don't let him see you. I forgot to tell you.
- Tell me what? - I agreed to have dinner with Daxiat.
He can help us get the censor's permit.
And I had sort of promised you might join us.
Well, you shouldn't have.
I don't see how you can associate yourself with someone like him.
I don't have much choice.
You know why he banned Britannicus, don't you?
Yes, I know, I know. He claimed it was an effeminate play.
We still need his help for the permit, don't we?
So, I want you to say hello
and even to shake his hand.
I'll say hello, and I'll shake his hand, but no dinner.
I'm exhausted. I'm going home to the hotel.
Raymond, shut off the lights, will you?
Fine, Eric. Go to bed now.
Eric hesitates before leaving the room, then turns to face his mother.
Will Mr. Carl come back, Mommy?
I don't know, sweetheart. What do you think?
I think he'll come back.
Helena purposely drops the embroidery she was holding.
Startled by the noise, Carl turns around and -
Who's there?
- He sees Helena. - Why are you hiding?
I didn't want to see you.
Leave this house. Your presence here is harmful.
Fine, I'll go. But first, you must hear me out.
When Dr. Sanders hired me last spring, I was told -
Wait, let's reverse that.
I think it's best to start with last spring.
Fine, I'll go. But first, you must hear me out.
Hello, darling. How are you?
Last spring, when Dr. Sanders hired me -
- Come over here. - Yes, sorry.
This is Arlette Guillaume, our set and costume designer.
Bernard Granger. He'll play Carl.
- You must have seen him on stage. - I don't think so.
Wait. Yes, now I recall it.
At the Grand Guignol?
No, it was in something more ordinary.
He played a man cruising the streets.
You can't judge me by that part.
I was improvising.
Yet, I could have sworn you knew this role by heart.
Okay, guys. Rehearsal is over.
But I'd like to say something.
I'm going to stage The Vanished Woman.
Like all of you, I would have preferred it
if Lucas himself had directed the play.
Fortunately, he left us explicit notes
with his staging instructions before he left.
It goes without saying that I'll be using his notes as much as possible.
And that way I'll be available to help you all. That's it.
If you don't need me anymore, I'd like to take off.
Sure, my darling.
- Good night. - Good night, my darling.
But what about the critic from Je suis partout, your friend Daxiat?
Can't he help us keep the epilepsy scene?
He already got us the censor's permit, so let's not make waves.
Bernard, can you help me fix my bracelet?
The clasp is stuck.
You read palms?
Go ahead. What do you see? - I see -
- I see that there are two women in you. - That's true.
Raymond, come quickly! I'm scared. I hear noises in the theater.
Don't worry, Germaine. I'll take a look.
Anybody here?
What are you doing here?
- How did you get in, Martine? - I used the door.
Say, I watched the rehearsal. It looks great.
I told you to wait outside, Martine.
Calm down. Look what I've got here.
Still interested?
I had no money. You've got to pay them tonight.
- How much? - 4,200 francs.
- It's 14 lbs. - Mme. Steiner is upstairs. I'll ask her.
Let's see. The Grand Guignol has a little more than 100 orchestra seats.
Sixty in the balcony. 200 on a full house. Is half a house your average?
- Well, it's -- - Good night, Marion.
- Good night, Bernard. - Good night.
Yes, it's a little more on Sundays and less during the week,
but overall, they average half a house.
The seats range from 20 to 40 francs. That adds up to 6,000 per evening.
- Mme. Steiner? - How many actors?
Excuse me.
- About the ham? - Oh, yes.
How many of you onstage?
Four actors. Three of us play at least two roles each.
So, 6,000 francs per night, the cost of the sets - They barely break even.
At this rate, they're going to lose money.
- I'm ready. Shall we go? - Yes.
- Good night. - Good night.
- Good night, Mme. Steiner. - Good night.
Good night, Mme. Steiner.
Good night, Marion.
Come in.
I have your ham, Mme. Steiner. That's 4,200 francs.
- 4,200 francs? - Yes, it's over 14 lbs.
If you think it's too expensive, I can give it back easily.
No. It'll last me the whole winter.
4,200, right? - Yes, 4,200.
- There. - Thanks. There's the cello.
What do you want me to do with a cello?
Here's the animal. Look at that.
Fourteen pounds! Fourteen!
I thought about the cello case because I couldn't imagine you
walking to the hotel with a ham in your arms.
- Did I do wrong? - No. You did the right thing.
That's a brilliant idea. Thanks.
I'm off, Mme. Steiner. Don't forget the lights and shutters.
The new air raid warden is a real bastard.
Okay, good night.
Hello? Hotel du Pant Neat can I help you?
- Marion. - Sir?
- Valentin. - Oh, Valentin, forgive me.
I have so much on my mind
No, please don't apologize. I know I've aged a lot.
I left a manuscript at the desk for you.
A screenplay.
Take your time. Read it and tell me what you think.
I won't keep you any longer. Good-bye, Marion.
Good-bye, Valentin.
Mme. Steiner, someone just dropped off a package for you.
I know.
- Your keys? - Yes.
Do you have a minute?
I keep getting mail for Mr. Steiner,
probably from people who don't know that he doesn't live here anymore.
It's a problem. Should I return it to the senders,
tell them the truth, or give it to you?
It's probably business mail for the theater.
Yes, right. I'll take it.
If I get more mail, should I give it to you?
- Yes. - Perfect
Thank you.
You're most welcome. Good night, madame.
- Good evening, Yvonne. - Good evening, madame.
- Will you be having dinner in your room? - No, I ate at the theater.
- Then good night, madame. - Good night.
Did the reporter from Paris Echoes call you?
No. Why?
Well, when I came to do your room at noon today,
he was in the hallway with a camera.
I told him you weren't in. He said,
“That's all right. I just want to take a picture of Mme. Steiner's room.”
He said it was for a story on the stars at home.
I didn't let him in.
I told him to call you. Didn't he call?
- No. - Do you think I was wrong?
No, Yvonne. You did the right thing.
I hate reporters. They're always snooping around.
- Good night, madame. - Good night.
What are you watering there, Jacquot? Flowers?
- They're not flowers. - Vegetables?
They're not vegetables either. It's for a pipe.
With a match, it smokes.
You know you could wind up in jail?
Where the hell is she?
It's incredible.
Jean-Leap, should we rehearse or What?
We're waiting for Nadine. She's going to get it.
Not only are you late, you show up with the Jerries. Jean-Loup will be pissed.
What do you want? I was at a dubbing session.
- We worked late. They offered me a ride. - Nothing stops you.
If they had offered you a part in Jew Suss, you'd have taken it.
And how! But they didn't have a role for a French girl.
Excuse me, Marion. I'm sorry.
Yes. Take your time. We've only been waiting for you for an hour.
We're not at your disposal, my darling. What's your excuse today?
- Your alarm didn't go off? - No, I was dubbing.
Must you grab every offer? You're a theater actress.
Can't you leave the dubbing jobs to your colleagues who need work?
- She needs it. - She's a pain in the ass.
No, I can't. I take every offer I get.
I do radio in the morning and dubbing at noon.
At nights, I do walk-ons at the Comédie-Française.
On Thursdays I play Moliére for schoolkids,
and if there's a bit part in a movie, I say yes!
I want to make it. The only way to succeed is to accept everything,
to get as much exposure as you can and make new contacts.
If you want to fire me, say so,
because Sacha Guitry is casting at the Madeleine Theatre and I could be there.
Have you thought about what we discussed?
Yes, but I could only think of two.
Raoul Coquet and Fernand Coustal. Remember them?
Coquet sounds good. We'll call him right away.
I'm not so sure about Coustal.
I'll put him down with a question mark.
Is that her?
Yes, that's her.
- She's still quite beautiful. - What do you mean “still”?
The House of Sin came out the year of my Communion.
You saw the film? How did you manage that?
I didn't, but I swiped all the stills from the Roxy Theatre,
including the famous one.
You're right. She's beautiful.
But she's strange. I can't figure her out.
Let's make the phone call.
I've got bad news for you, Lucas.
- The Germans banned the play? - No.
You can't leave next week.
The lead I had fell through.
- You said it was a sure thing. - It's never sure.
The man who guides people through Nevers
was arrested.
I've got another lead, but it's risky.
- You're afraid he'll get caught too? - No, worse than that.
Some guides, or so-called guides, take your money
and time you straight up to the Kommandantur.
- Can you imagine? - So they get paid off on both ends.
Besides, you're not an ordinary client.
Many people may recognize you or spot your accent.
No, you must be prepared to spend several weeks down here.
Will you be all right? Do you think you can handle it?
Sure, I can. I must.
But I hate to feel so useless,
paralyzed, trapped.
Did you talk to Jean-Loup? Will he help us?
I thought it over. I'd rather not say anything to Jean-Loup.
He knows too many people. He gossips, jokes.
It's too dangerous.
You know how many letters denouncing Jews
are mailed every day to the police?
Guess. - I don't know. 300?
1,500.1,500 letters daily. “My boss is Jewish.”
“My neighbor is Jewish.” “My brother-in-law is Jewish.”
No. Everybody thinks you're gone.
Let's keep it that way. I'll take care of you by myself.
Do you think I let you go first to be polite?
Well, you're wrong! I wanted to look at your legs.
Wait. Let me breathe in the smell of the stage. Wait for me.
From the cellar, I follow everything that goes on.
When the lights are dimmed in the morning, I know it's rehearsal time.
When they go on again, it's lunchtime.
When all the lights go out at night,
I tell myself, “In five minutes, Marion will be here.”
It reminds me of a play I saw in London three years ago.
At night, the husband would pretend to go out,
but as soon as the gaslight grew dim,
we knew it meant the husband had come back and was up in the attic
doing God knows what.
Do you remember?
I almost bought the rights.
He liked the Grand Guignol.
But he's very happy to be with us.
He's a little like Jean Gabin in La Bete humaine.
Very physical, and yet quite gentle.
You know, it's because of you that he's an actor.
No, I'll do it myself.
Tell me how rehearsals are going.
Jean-Loup is doing well.
I was delighted because he showed he was capable of losing his temper.
Good evening, sir.
Just a minute.
Jean-Loup, it's for you. It's Daxiat.
- What does he want at this hour? - I don't know.
Hello, Daxiat.
What's up?
Everyone was talking about it yesterday on the last metro.
They may stop rehearsals of The Dead Queen at the Comédie-Française.
Why? Is Montherlant Jewish?
No, but you're pretty close.
Daxiat wants to expose all the Jews
who're still working at the Comédie-Française.
According to Daxiat, Jean Yonnel is a Romanian Jew.
I don't know if Yonnel is a Jew or half Jewish or not Jewish.
But I know he is wrong to stay here. He should escape -
run away to the end of the world, far away from these maniacs.
They're really crazy, you understand? They're all crazy.
Not only in Germany, but here too, Daxiat and the others.
All crazy.
You wanted to know what Bernard Granger looked like.
Perfect, he's just perfect.
At least with him we don't have to worry.
He looks like a goy.
What have you got against goyim?
Nothing.
Especially if they wear short skirts and have long hair.
You dirty racist! My mother warned me I'd never be happy with a Jew.
You know, Carl, if you wish to remain in this house,
there's a name you must never mention -
the name of Charles-Henri.
I wore a new dress last night.
Everyone noticed it, except you. You must have been preoccupied.
That's very good, Nadine. Very good.
But I want you to move over to Bernard.
We'll give you a lamp. You'll put it on the table. It will help you.
Raymond, stop fooling around. Go get me a lamp.
Let's go on, kids.
Don't tell me you've got too much work.
I know your job is harder than mine,
but some people in this house
should mind their own business.
Why are you saying this?
Because it's in the play.
- Is that him? - Yes, that's Daxiat.
Go over and say hello. Be friendly. Don't forget to thank him.
Remember he helped us get the censor's permit.
Of course. Don't worry. PM thank him.
All right, let's take a break. Try to relax.
Hello.
Hello, Mme. Steiner.
- Who is he? - Don't you know him?
He's the inspector-general.
He is Daxiat, the drama critic for Je suis partout.
Is that Daxiat? I had pictured him differently.
I'd love to meet him. - No shame, eh?
He's very important. I heard he might run the Comédie-Française.
This may sound strange coming from me,
but I think you husband, Lucas Steiner, was wrong to leave France.
The new anti-Israelite theater laws apply to speculators and profiteers.
But your husband, Mme. Steiner, was a gem.
He was the only Israelite theater director -
- You may say Jewish. - Yes.
He was the only one to be a leader,
stage director and an artist.
You see, the Germans are deeply attached to culture.
They don't want talented artists to leave France.
But there's no need to worry about your play, The Vanished Woman.
I'm certain Cottins can handle the job.
Still, one wonders why this play was chosen.
Even Pitoéff turned it down.
Do you know Germaine Fabre, my dresser?
- She wants to ask you a favor. - Yes, of course. I know madame.
It's about my son Pierre.
- What's Daxiat doing here? - He likes to sniff around rehearsals.
He only does that when he's interested in a play, so -
Will he write about us?
He might, but you can never be sure with him.
I wish he'd forget about us.
- Let me go see him. - No, stay here.
Look. We're all Catholics in our family.
- Here's the proof. - Fine. I'll take care of this.
Let me introduce you to our little gang.
Yes.
Nadine Marsac, who is, I think, the top student of the Simon drama course.
- Well? - He was very nice. He took my file.
Bernard Granger, our leading man.
Straight out of the Grand Guignol, as you see.
- He plays Carl? - Yes.
Strange. He'd be ideal for The Hairy Ape.
Well -
And that's Raymond. He'll show you the way out.
Tell me, Jean-Loup. Doesn't he like women, your Daxiat?
- Mr. Daxiat, may I ask you a riddle? - A riddle?
Yes, a riddle. What do you call this?
- A fishing rod. - But we also call it a “gaule”, right?
Now, if we put a second one next to it,
we get “Deux Gaulle”!
Bravo, Raymond.
You're very funny.
I speak to you from the printing press of this journal
that will continue to cry out the truth.
Yes, I say the French theater
must be purged of Jews from the rafters to the prompter's box.
If we allow a Jewish prompter to work even at an insignificant theater,
we will be taking the risk of seeing him control the destiny of the Paris Opéra.
Jews must be pushed off the stage and out of the wings,
and we must keep them out!
No Jew should ever be allowed again to own or direct or run a theater
because all the Jews who did
have brought to it their devious and corrupt methods.
Let these “gentlemen” be warned that France is off-limits to Jews.
And does that not mean for the French that France is almost saved?
Here's the money you asked for, Mme. Steiner. It's all there.
But if you need that much every month, it's going to be difficult.
- Of course not. This is exceptional. - All right.
In that case, there's no problem. Good-bye, Mme. Steiner.
- Good-bye. - Hello.
Hello, Mr. Merlin. Come in.
Marion, this is Rosette.
- Hello. - Hello.
Rosette, put your samples on the desk and run along home.
- How old are you? - I'll be 14 in three months.
You work with Arlette? What about school?
I stopped going.
- Do you like making theater costumes? - Yes, madame.
- You'll have to come see our play. - Listen, Marion.
She can't come to the theater. The kid can't go out at night.
Yes, I can! Three months ago, someone gave me tickets
to hear Edith Piaf at the ABC Theater.
I wore my scarf this way so nobody could see it. It worked.
We'll talk about it later. Go home, Rosette. It's late.
Good-bye, madame.
- Good-bye. - Good-bye, Rosette.
You really have crazy ideas sometimes, Marion.
Now that child won't forget. She'll insist on seeing that play.
And since her parents can't refuse her anything,
they'll blame me.
Forgive me. I'm sorry.
I was trying to be nice because - Are her parents French?
The girl is, but her parents are Polish.
The father's a tailor. He works at home.
In the attic, that is.
His daughter makes the deliveries. He can't go out in the street.
You could cut his accent with a knife.
- An accent like Lucas? - His is much worse.
Besides, he hardly knows 30 words of French.
So, if a German asked him for directions, he'd be caught.
So he hides in his attic and his wife does everything.
Isn't he scared someone will denounce him?
Can't they go to the free zone?
They'd love to go, but it costs a fortune, and they're poor.
- What are you doing tonight? - Nothing special. I'm going home.
- Let me take you out to dinner. - I'm sorry. I can't.
Listen, Marion, you can't spend every night by yourself.
I've got to go. I'm going home.
I've read them all, Madame Manager.
Nothing here for us. You can return them.
But first make sure to burn the reader's notes.
- They're in my handwriting. - Okay. I'll take care of it.
Now let me explain about the money.
I divided it into three stacks.
The first one is for the conveyor who'll take you to Vierzon.
- They call them conveyors? - Yes, conveyors.
You must pay him when you get on the truck.
They promised me you'll be comfortable. It's a moving van.
I'll sit in an armchair like a prime minister.
Listen, Lucas. This is serious.
The second stack is for the farmer who will take you across the border.
His property is big and extends over both zones.
At the far end, you're in the free zone.
Let me guess. The third stack is for Spain.
Yes. Be careful. It's for Spain and for the rest.
It might not be enough,
so I brought this little bag along.
No, madame.
Not the jewels. Not the jewels!
- You may need them. - Less than you will.
Bring them along when you join me. Because I want you to join me...
as soon as possible.
To be safe, I've got to play at least the first 100 performances.
Good God. What confidence.
Do you think it will run that long?
That's six months.
In any case, I want you to leave after the 50th,
no later.
After the 50th, I'll tell them I've got a spot on my lungs
and to find another actress.
I'll tell everything to Jean-Loup
and turn the management over to him
and pretend I'm going to a sanitarium.
Then I'll join you.
And we'll start all over again.
I'm not a barber. Stop fidgeting.
Take that off. It's horrible.
I'm trying to feel Jewish.
It's very hard to portray a Jew.
If you underplay, they're skeptical
If you overplay, they say, “He doesn't look Jewish.”
- What does it mean to look Jewish? - You're asking me?
Stop moving.
Listen, Marion,
Listen. I love that song.
How could I not lose my mind
When he held me prisoner in his arms
I believed in his words of love
He seduced me with his eyes
I loved him so
My handsome man from Saint-Jean
He no longer loves me It's in the past
Let's talk of it no more
He no longer loves me
It's in the past
Let's talk of it no more
- How is the garden? - Okay.
- Growing? - Yeah.
Soon we'll be able to smoke.
Jacquot, come here.
Listen, Jacquot. - Yes?
- Can you repeat a sentence after me? - Yes.
Are you sure?
Try to say,
“Do you think Mr. Carl will come back, Mommy?”
Do you think Mr. Carl will come back, Mommy?
Very good. Now say,
- “Because I like studying with him.” - Because I like studying with him.
Very good.
I used to go dancing at the ball of Saint-Jean
He kissed me and stole my heart
How could I not lose my mind when he held me prisoner in his arms
I believed in his words of love
He seduced me with his eyes
I loved him so
My handsome man from Saint-Jean
I was under his spell
Helpless under his embrace
I belonged to him
I knew he lied to me
But I kept loving him
Hello, Jacquot.
Do you think Mr. Carl will come back, Mommy?
- Why are you asking me this? - Because I like studying with him.
- What are you talking about? - It's him who told me to say this.
- Him who? - Him.
- It's okay now. - At last. Nadine, are you ready?
You can come in.
Do you still need me, madame?
- Shall I prepare Eric's room now? - Please do, Harriette.
Don't forget the ointment for his hand.
I'm through, Mother.
Good, Eric. Go to bed now.
Now you walk to the stairway. You stop on the second step.
Don't fall. Now deliver your line.
Do you think Mr. Carl will come back, Mommy?
I don't know, sweetheart. What do you think?
I think he'll come back. I like studying with him.
Great! That's great. Bravo, Jacquot.
At least now we know we've got at least one good actor in our play.
That's nice. Thanks a lot.
- Good night, Raymond. - Bye, Germaine. See you tomorrow.
- Good night. - Do I get a kiss too?
You get a handshake.
If you insist. Please, allow me.
I'll read your palm.
There are two women in you.
Sorry, but neither one wants to sleep with you.
So long.
It's my own fault.
I was too obvious, too aggressive.
Now she picks on me.
When her job is done, she'll just vanish.
I've got to get her before opening night.
- Do you have my size in beige? - What's this?
- Stop bothering Mme. Steiner. - She's no bother, Raymond.
Leave us, please. - Okay.
When I get a size seven, I'll bring them over.
What about you, Nadine? Aren't you going to buy a pair?
It's tempting, but I can't afford it.
Are you kidding?
Not at all. I use makeup.
So do I.
But yours is more elegant. You even drew the seam.
- How chic! - I draw the seam with a pen.
It has to be straight. It's better to have someone else do it.
GERMAN TROOPS INVADE FREE ZONE
What is this? Is it today's paper?
Did you know the free zone was invaded?
I heard it on the radio.
It won't change anything for us, but there'll be trouble down there.
- Now we'll be able to take trips south. - And send letters there.
They invaded the free zone? So what?
You wanted me to cross half the country crawling with Germans.
Instead, I'll sneak across the entire country!
No. The Germans are everywhere.
Every single truck is stopped and searched every 50 kilometers.
I spoke to the guide. He's scared to death. He refuses to risk it. No.
It's much too dangerous now for everybody.
What am I supposed to do?
- Wait here until things get better. - I can't stay here anymore.
I'll go crazy! This is no life.
Did you ever ask yourself what I do down here all day long?
I read. I read a lot, you know.
I listen to lies on the radio.
Then I read lies in the press.
To keep myself from losing my mind, I do crossword puzzles.
You want to see them? Just listen.
Across, in four letters. “Symbol of infamy.”
“Kike.”
Going down, in six letters.
“Stinking Vermin”: “Sheeny”
These are for children.
“You can never be sufficiently suspicious of them” in four letters.
It begins with a J.
So I give up.
I listen to the sounds of the theater, wait for your footsteps on the stairs.
I wait for you to come. I wait and wait.
I can't wait anymore!
How many years does a man have to live?
I can't take it anymore, Marion. I can't.
Please, Lucas.
- I'm going. - Where are you going?
Away from here. I'm going. I'll speak to them.
- To whom? - To the authorities, to the police.
I'll explain everything to them. I'll register. I'll get my papers in order.
Are you crazy? What are you doing? Stay here! What do you want?
Go to a concentration camp? Is that what you want?
- Let me go! - You're not leaving. I'll kill you first.
Here, it's real cognac from the black market.
You're shaking. You need a drink too.
I just discovered a terrible thing.
I'm capable of killing someone.
You'll see. We'll fix up the cellar, Lucas. I'll get you a real bed,
a comfortable armchair and some rugs to cover the floor.
I need a desk.
Yes, just like in a real apartment.
I hope you won't forget the wallpaper, with flowers preferably.
Mme. Steiner wants the gamekeeper to carry a rifle, even inside the house.
But Mme. Steiner doesn't realize
that we need an official permit even for a prop rifle.
- If she thinks it's easy to get one -- - I'm only telling you what she said.
I can't go out that way. They're all already here.
We should be more careful. We should have gotten up earlier.
- Use the back alley. - Right.
- Marion. - Yes?
Don't forget to lock the door behind you.
Yes.
I got news from my oldest son. He can't tell me where he is,
but I was able to get a card from Germany.
I'll mail them in separate packages
so at least one of them might reach him.
They fit me. I'm the same size as your husband.
Not my husband, but my other man.
You won't believe where I got them. At the Colonial Exposition.
I had to pay for them in cash. It didn't last long between us.
He was left-handed.
Got something against left-handed people?
No, but when he slapped me, I never had a chance to see it coming.
We had some good times together, but some nasty moments too.
- Hello, Germaine. - Oh, hello, my Bernard.
I bet you slept out. You haven't shaved.
No, I didn't sleep at home.
I almost got into trouble last night. Coming out of the movies,
I ran into a raid for “Voluntary Labor in Germany.”
Two guys were checking everybody. So I turned this way and that way.
Each guy thought the other had checked me out.
If I were you, I wouldn't brag about things like that.
It's because of guys like you that our prisoners can't come home.
- Hello, Germaine. - Good morning.
What's going on? You're getting dressed here now?
You don't need to publicize it. Yes. I didn't sleep at home last night.
I can't stand to have a man touch me, Arlette. Could you take his place?
And what about me?
What if I can't stand touching a man?
You haven't forgotten my other costume, have you?
- What other costume? - Come on. It's written in the script.
Act two, scene three. “Carl enters wearing a sly look.”
So I need a sly look to wear.
- You know Bernard Granger? - The new actor?
Right. Tell him I couldn't wait.
Give him this package. Tell him it's from Christian.
I'll give it to him.
Lucas?
Marion? Are you there?
- Where are you? - Go over to the bed.
Say something.
Say what? I'm by the bed.
- I can't hear you. - Same here. I can hardly hear you.
Go over to the radio.
Where is the radio? I can hear it, but I don't see it.
It's next to the boiler.
The boiler?
All right, here I am.
I can hear you through this hole?
Yes, I can hear you as if you were next to me.
Turn up the sound and come up to the stage.
- This is very dangerous. - It's quite the opposite. It's great.
You see, I rigged up the old heating vent.
With this setup, I'll be able to hear
all the rehearsals from the cellar.
Every night I'll give you suggestions for Jean-Loup to pass on to the actors.
Of course, The Vanished Woman is going to be a hit.
It could run for a year.
I'm back in business.
I'm directing again, and nobody will ever find out.
A fond memory is alive in my heart
And is as fresh as a flower from Spain
Since I came into this house I've heard nothing but lies.
Lies and contradictions.
Lapses of memory, not lies.
For years I tried to find out the truth.
Can't you see? It's horrible not to know who one is,
what one has done.
And much worse is the fear that it may occur again.
At times, I felt I didn't really exist.
Why hasn't Dr. Sanders allowed you to go to town to visit another doctor?
He knows more than any doctor. Without him, I'd be dead.
I'll be eternally grateful to him.
A prisoner owes no gratitude to a jailer!
And Dr. Sanders has made you his prisoner!
But if a man simply tells you, “Helena, I love you,”
why not listen to him?
No, wait a minute. Excuse me.
Jean-Loup, is it really necessary to shout these lines?
I don't know. It doesn't sound right to me.
Listen, Bernard. Lucas's notes are explicit.
- “This scene is to be played like a duel.” - Like a duel.
All right, but it seems absurd to me.
A prisoner owes no gratitude to a jailer!
And Dr. Sanders has made you his prisoner.
But if a man simply tells you “Helena, I love you,” why not listen to him?
I have no right to love. Can't you understand?
- No right to love or be loved. - No, Helena, no.
These are Dr. Sanders's own words, not yours.
Let me tell you something about Dr. Sanders.
There you are. You told me to shout, so I did.
But I'm not happy about it.
I'm not happy either, Jean-Loup.
You see? We're not happy.
Bernard Granger is right. The scene should not be shouted.
- But that's what you wanted. - So I made a mistake.
Jean-Loup shouldn't take my notes so literally.
What's that? - It's a power failure.
- Get the candle. - The candle, the candle.
The light is back.
It shouldn't be played like a duel, but like a conspiracy.
Am I boring you? You're not listening to me.
I'm sorry, Lucas, but I'm simply exhausted.
So make yourself comfortable.
No, I want to sleep at home, at the hotel.
I'll go home.
So you're deserting the conjugal cave?
Good night.
Wait, wait.
I'm waiting.
I'll see you first thing in the morning.
Have you seen Raymond? I've been looking everywhere.
No.
- Are you the electrician now? - No, not the electrician.
The engineer.
- Here he is. - I know. I know I'm late.
I had to stand on line at the hardware store for 45 minutes.
When I came out, someone had stolen my bike with the chain.
So I take the subway - Blackout.
We're stuck between two stations.
Why the subway? You knew we were in a hurry.
You should have taken a bike-taxi. We would have paid.
With his size, they'd have charged him double fare.
That's why I won't take the bike-taxis. I have feelings, if you don't mind.
I was only kidding.
Can you see me spread out like a pasha,
being hauled around by a poor bastard sweating on his bike?
Sure, I know. Nice fat men are funny.
You can make fun of them.
Well, it's not an easy life! And anyway, I'm not a nice fat man.
I'm a mean fat man Go to hell.
Listen, last year someone stole my bike too.
So what? I had to accept it. But three days later,
at the other end of town, unbelievable -
What do I see? My very own bike.
#813-HK-45. So I figure, it's mine. I'll take it back.
Then a creep shows up, real cool.
I let him unfasten the lock, then I say,
“Look, man. This is my bike.”
The creep gets offended. I can tell we're going to fight.
Now people are stopping, staring at us.
And then, guess what.
He starts calling me a fag. No offense, Jean-Loup.
He starts saying in front of everybody that I came on to him
and made a pass at him, the whole bit.
Then people started giving me dirty looks.
They were all on the side of the thief.
I told myself, “That's it. They're gonna beat the shit out of me.”
So I ran as fast as I could.
There are the Boches,
the Heinies,
the Krauts,
the Jerries.
I don't remember the other one.
- You forgot the beetles. - That's right. The beetles.
- Good-bye. - Good-bye.
Where are you going? That's my record player.
It's not yours. It's Marion's.
She lent it to me for a party. So long.
Everything always disappears in this theater.
The rocking chair, the record player.
Mme. Steiner, a gentleman is waiting for you at the bar.
A gentleman? I'm not expecting anyone.
I don't know his name, but he writes for Je suis partout.
- Daxiat? - Yes, that's right. Daxiat.
I had to talk to you, madame.
I wanted to meet you outside the theater.
It's confidential.
Please.
I know you don't like me,
but I'd like to think it's perhaps because you don't know me.
I'm not judging you. I only know that your articles
have often hurt people I like and whose work I admire.
Others say you really love the theater. I just don't know.
Indeed, I am a paradox. I adore the theater.
I live for it, and yet, I'm hated by most theater people.
Frankly, it requires a lot of strength to cope with such hostility.
I think I have that strength.
I've always admired Lucas Steiner.
If he were here, I would tell him that our real battle
is socialistic,
anticapitalistic -
that we, too, are men of the left.
But we want to go further. We want a revolution.
You know, I always saw Lucas buy all the newspapers,
but he only read the theater section.
I do the same. I could care less about politics.
You're wrong. Everything is political. But that's your problem,
and that's not what I'm here for.
Lucas Steiner has not left France.
Ladies and gentlemen, we're sorry. It's stupid, but it's the law.
Everybody down to the shelter.
The ID card I showed you was found on a guide who was arrested.
- Hello, madame. - Hello, Yvonne.
Your husband must be hiding out in some village or in the countryside.
But at some point, he's bound to contact you.
Would you give him a message?
Tell him that if he decides to come back,
I won't write anything against him.
It's a matter of honor for me.
But if he comes back, you'll be compromised.
Have you thought about your theater?
The name Steiner can only harm you. You should get a divorce.
Do you remember, Marion?
Remember what?
- The elevator in that department store. - Yes, I remember.
I had the feeling everybody knew what we were doing.
I was terrified.
You were only terrified?
No, not only terrified.
And the night with the fashion designer of The Doll's House?
- It was your turn to be scared. - Not at all. I enjoyed it.
Go on. Go home. Go back to the hotel.
I'd rather you left right now.
And what if I stayed here tonight?
All night? Until tomorrow?
- All night. Until tomorrow. - You mean it?
Then I'll shut off the light to consider your proposition.
But when I came simply to tell you, "Helena, I love you,"
why did you refuse to listen to me?
Listen, Bernard, I know it's in the script,
but I'd rather you didn't touch my face during rehearsals.
- You can do it during the performance. - Let's start again, kids.
I have no right to love, can't you understand?
No right to love or be loved.
But when I came simply to tell you, “Helena, I love you,”
why did you refuse to listen to me?
Bernard, don't forget you're supposed to caress Marion's face at that point.
It's Marion who told him not to touch her.
A large crowd has gathered here,
and I'm trying to make my way through.
What was that?
I'm told that blast we heard
is due to an explosive device in a record player.
An assassination attempt.
Admiral Froelich has been seriously injured.
What? I am told he was killed! Everybody here is in a panic.
They're searching for the terrorists who planted the bomb.
- People are running in every direction. - Right! A record player exploded.
- Forgive me, Mme. Steiner. - I'm busy, Mr. Merlin.
Please. This is important.
Germaine told me who you were with.
You shouldn't sell your jewelry for less than their value.
Let me deal with this.
I'll take them to a pawnshop, and if The Vanished Woman is a hit,
you'll get them back within three months.
It makes sense. Thank you, Mr. Merlin.
I'm sorry. But I can't make a decision today.
I need some time to think it over.
- As you wish, madame. - Yes, yes.
Tell me, Arlette. Would you help me rehearse my lines in my dressing room?
The kind of help you're looking for is not hard to find.
You should try a brothel, I think.
I can help you rehearse if you want.
Never mind, Nadine. I'll manage.
You know, Carl, if you wish to remain in this house,
there is a name you must never mention - the name of Charles-Henri.
Ask for Yolande at the Lafayette department store. Tell her I sent you.
She can get you Gone with the Wind for 80 francs.
I would never spend that much on a book, even on the black market.
But if Marion wants it -
- Yes, she said she wanted to read it. - Then I'll go get it.
Would you help me rehearse in my dressing room?
- I don't know. I've never done it. - It's simple. You just have to read.
- I say a line and you answer me. - All right.
- Let's go then. - Can I leave this here?
Sure.
- It's a nice room! - Yes, isn't it?
Essentially, they came here to make profits. Very few came here to work.
The problem is that the majority of the French people
don't know how to recognize a Jew.
If they could spot them, they could protect themselves.
Some look typically Jewish, but not all of them.
If only all Jews had blue skin.
But it isn't the case. 80, we must recognize them. It's -
They say it's better to hear that than be deaf.
But at times, I'd rather be deaf.
- Did you listen to our rehearsal? - It was great.
I mean, it was much better.
The whispering improves the scene,
but you could add to the intimacy by dimming the lights.
The faces should be lit from the rear, to make silhouettes.
Don't move, kids! You're silhouettes.
Raymond, if you don't mind, we're working.
Great idea, Jean-Loup. I'll move the backdrop to accentuate the silhouette.
It will work very well.
What the hell are you doing, Raymond?
- The lights are out! - I know. I've nothing to do with it.
- The whole neighborhood is in the dark. - It's a power failure.
Perfect for silhouettes.
I looked outside.
The whole neighborhood is in the dark. They don't even warn us anymore.
Come with me, Marc. Let's find some light.
I know where we can get candles, if we'll pay for them, of course.
Nadine, we're waiting for you to start rehearsal onstage.
- Marion, let me explain. - There is nothing to explain.
- I don't want you to judge me. - I'm not judging you.
But I wish you'd keep your love life outside the theater.
Marion is heartless.
She's too tough. She's too cold.
Doesn't care about anyone. She's totally unsympathetic.
She doesn't even know I exist.
She's worse since Lucas is gone. I can't stand it.
- I can't stand it. - Calm down, my child. Calm down.
It's not the end of the world.
Marion opened a door that should have been locked. You see it as a tragedy.
But in two weeks, it will have been forgotten. You know that.
If only it was true.
I don't want to stay here.
I want to go home.
You're right. Go home.
She's not well. Think I should take her home?
No, drop it. That's the last thing she needs.
She'll be all right. Forget it.
Mate to see her so upset.
Boy! I really was on the wrong track with her.
That's for sure.
She's not for you. She's actually more like competition.
You liked her that much?
I just wanted to sleep with her.
I don't know what it is. It was like craving a hot croissant.
I wanted to warn you that you were on the wrong track on several occasions,
but I figured it was none of my business.
You're all going to the Joconde tonight? Isn't it a nightclub?
You know what the BBC says?
They say that all those who go to nightclubs
will have to account for it after the war.
It's Jean-Loup's idea. He wants to boost our morale.
When you were running the theater, you had the right to be moody,
to throw a party or be by yourself.
Why am I expected to be charming and smiling at all times?
- Even Jean-Loup picks on me. - He's right, Jean-Loup.
And he doesn't know the half of it.
I don't mind that you neglect me. It's my problem.
But for others, the play comes first.
You must pay more attention to them.
Why don't you answer me?
If I did, I'd be too cruel.
The coffee's ready. I've got to run.
Marion.
Yes?
I heard you and Bernard rehearsing the love scene.
So what?
I don't know. It seems to me - I feel it could be better.
What are you trying to say exactly?
It's the only love scene in the play.
Try to be
more sincere.
Since one evening in a place in France
When I saw your big eyes in the shadows
My heart is filled with wild hope
I think of you night and day
But we don't speak the same language
And to tell you that I love you
I don't know any nicer poem
Than these tender words from my country
- Hello. - Hello.
How are you?
No, Nadine. This seat is for Bernard.
Anyway, I can't stay. I wanted to ask you to excuse me.
I've got to meet with the producer of Angels of Mercy.
I'm not sure I can get the part. Two other girls are up for it.
- I couldn't find out who they were. - It's a great part.
I hope you get it.
We'll keep our fingers crossed for you, Nadine.
- Okay, I'm off. - Bye.
I'll belong to you always
I would have liked
To tell you everything in French
I know because now
She'll give a good reading, but I don't think they'll cast her.
Nadine is still a child. She'd be better in something like School for Wives.
School for Wives? Nadine in the role of Agnes?
Maybe, but when she'll say “The little kitten is dead”...
I can guarantee you that the whole audience will think she did it.
Enjoying yourselves?
- Bernard, come sit next to me. - Well, I'm not alone.
I brought a friend. Simone. Sit down.
Take care of her while I check our coats. I'll be right back.
Arlette, sit next to me.
Just a minute, sir. I'll get your check.
Yes.
Excuse me, miss. Give me back my things. I've changed my mind.
I'm sorry, Mme. Steiner, but I can't stay.
Come on. Let's go.
I completely forgot. I have an appointment.
You're free, Bernard. We're all free.
I apologize. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night.
Bei mir bist du schon
Means in love
Darling, I'm yours forever
I would have liked to tell you everything in French
There is a man staring at us.
Don't look. He's coming over.
- Hello, Cottins. How is everything? - Fine.
Still in show business, a real trouper.
Don't you think you should introduce me, Cottins?
- I'm sorry, but I forgot your first name. - René. René Bernardini.
Of course. Rene Bernardini, Arlette Guillaume, Marion Steiner.
Hello.
Excuse me, Marion. I'll be back in a minute.
- You promise? - Yes.
Excuse me.
Tell me
That you love me
I don't know about you, but I think that this place is boring.
- I'm inviting you all to the Monseigneur. - No.
Marion's exhausted. You know we're in rehearsals. Really.
Speak for yourself, Jean-Loup. I feel like going there.
Let's wait for Arlette.
We'll leave you together. You're both killjoys.
I'm not tired, and you're right. This place is depressing.
- Where are you going? - Tonight I'm on my own.
- What was that all about? - That's typical of Marion.
She saw the evening was a disaster and she decided to make it complete.
Daxiat has two seats -
numbers 17 and 19 in the middle of the seventh row.
Don't forget -- 20 seats for the Propagandastaffel.
Why are you looking at me that way? It's mandatory.
Twenty seats every night. I don't make the rules.
At the Odéon Theatre they put them in the side loges.
So it's no big deal if they don't show up.
We'll do the same. We'll put them in the side loges.
My supplier will want tickets. I promised him four seats.
We pay him for his services. He doesn't work for free.
I can't believe this! We give the best seats
to those who take pleasure in panning us,
and we refuse to give away four seats to people who already love the play.
Maybe, but you know what Lucas would say.
We must give our best seats to our enemies.
Germaine, did you touch anything in my dressing room? I can't find my purse.
Oh, great.
What a mess! Somebody's been here.
- Well? - They took my travel clock.
I think that's all.
My word, it's a den of thieves.
- And you? Are you missing anything? - I found my wallet, but it's empty.
- So it's most serious for you, Nadine. - Yes, I don't mind the money,
but they took my ration cards, my ID,
my work permit and above all, my pass to go out at night.
I'm glad I locked your door, Marion.
- Should I call the police? - No. We'll manage on our own.
This is like what I heard on Radio Paris last week.
Some movers came to take a piano. They never returned it.
- Movers, my foot! - That's all very nice,
but I need my papers.
I wonder who did it.
Well, I know who did it. I'm almost sure of it.
I'm sorry, Raymond, but you know who I mean.
I'm sure you don't agree. - Yes, I do.
But of course, I immediately knew it was her.
It could only be Martine.
Raymond, we're not calling the police. So, you go to her place and try to -
- I'll go with you. - I don't know where she lives.
- She's your girlfriend! - She's not. She wasn't interested.
She goes from one theater to another with her black market stuff.
That's how we met. I took her to a movie once and once to a restaurant.
That's all. I swear. I don't know her address.
I've never been to her place, and she never came to mine.
But since she was pretty,
I don't mind that everybody thought I was sleeping with her.
Madame, in that case, let's call the police.
Yes, let's get the police.
I don't think you heard me the first time.
I don't want the police to set foot in this theater.
Ladies and gentlemen, stay in one line. Clear the aisle. Thank you.
- Can we get seats for tonight? - No. The box office is closed tonight.
- Good evening, Mme. Steiner. - Good evening.
Let's form one line, please.
- Look. That's Marion Steiner. - Madame.
I have a delivery for the manager, but I don't know where her office is.
The glass door at the top of the stairs.
If it's for Mme. Steiner, her dressing room is over there in the back.
No, no. Leave this in the office.
If Marion needs to rest, I don't want her to be asphyxiated.
I saw a light. I thought I saw someone, and I fired.
I can hear them, Marion. I hear them.
Can you hear them?
I don't know how you can eat.
I couldn't. - Sure you can. Here.
No, I swear I can't. I can only think of one thing.
What if tonight is a disaster?
- Simple. We'll do a new play. - With what money?
Have you seen the books? I have.
If The Vanished Woman is a flop, we lose the theater.
I'm terrified. How can you be so calm?
Lucas, you chose this play, you staged it,
we followed your instructions.
It's your creation.
- If it doesn't work -- - If it doesn't work
it will be my fault, my own fault,
but we'll all be up shit creek.
Here. Have a drink.
Really, I don't know how you do it. I'm going to faint.
- I'm sick to my stomach. - Listen. Just relax.
Wait. Put this blanket over your stomach. Sit down.
- Thanks. - Here.
I must go now.
Listen carefully. You'll tell me what you think, all right?
Sure.
See you later.
I should be the one reassuring you.
Why should you? I'm perfectly calm.
- Isn't Mr. Eric with you, madame? - He was restless this morning.
Oh, I know where he is.
He probably climbed over the gate to watch the road.
Mr. Eric begged to go to the station, but Dr. Sanders wouldn't take him along?
My godfather always knows best.
I suppose he wanted to speak to the tutor in private about his new student.
Of course, if Dr. Sanders had asked my advice, I would have said that
Eric has no need for a tutor.
He's still so young, and I enjoy teaching him the little bit I can.
You are right, madame,
but I still think this big house is too quiet for Mr. Eric.
You know, my mother once told me that when she worked here
there were sometimes up to 20 guests for dinner.
There are 25 of us in Paris. We're a public necessity.
On my birthday, when Dr. Sanders told me
that from now on I could eat with the grown-ups, I cried.
- Good evening. - Good evening, Mme. Thierry.
- How come she's going in? - My son is in the play. I'm his mother.
Can I leave you, madame? I need to prepare Eric's room for the night.
You all right? As the boss used to say,
the theater is like bathroom and cemetery -
when you gotta go, you gotta go.
Tell Eric to finish his homework before his new tutor arrives.
Helena.
This is Mr. Carl, our new tutor.
I know I should have warned you.
The resemblance is striking. Truly extraordinary.
I don't know what you mean.
I didn't expect a student, but a man of some experience.
But I have good references, madame.
I don't doubt it. But so far, my son has been raised by myself and his uncle.
I had hoped he might be guided by someone who -
Anyway, it doesn't matter.
There are only two seats reserved.
Eric, meet your new tutor.
Calm down, Helena. You have a very short memory.
Here is the letter Mr. Carl sent to apply for the job.
I assure you, you read it a month ago.
Your Daxiat is a louse.
Yes, Uncle. You're probably right. I was confused.
Probably because of the resemblance.
I don't know. Strangers always make me nervous.
But I'll get used to him. Besides, Eric seems happy.
Can I show Mr. Carl the estate?
Of course, my child.
Listen, Gregory.
Helena, my dear, when will you learn to trust me?
Don't you realize no other man loves you as much as I do?
- But there is something else. - What else?
It's that... I don't ever want to lose you.
Hurry up, Germaine.
- We've only got five minutes. - Don't turn around. Don't move.
How did it go? Are you happy?
I don't know. We can never tell until it's over.
Go ahead. Watch it.
Easy.
What's going on? It's 10 after 11:00.
I know. We lost five minutes during the intermission.
But can't we go in? We won't make any noise.
I must tell you about Dr. Sanders.
- No. Don't say a word! - I must tell you, Helena. I must.
I have proof Dr. Sanders didn't come back here after Charles-Henri's death
but the day before.
Since I came into this house, I've heard nothing but lies.
Lies and contradictions.
Lapses of memory, not lies.
For years, I tried to find out the truth.
Can't you see it's horrible not to know who one is, what one has done?
Much worse, is the fear it may occur again.
At times, I felt I didn't really exist.
But when I came simply to tell you,
“Helena, I love you,”
why did you refuse to listen to me?
I had no right to love. Can't you understand?
No right to love, or be loved.
And now?
Now I'm in love, Carl, and it hurts.
Does love hurt?
Yes, love hurts.
Like a bird of prey, it circles over us,
as if to threaten us.
But this threat can also be a promise of happiness.
You're beautiful, Helena.
So beautiful that it hurts to look at you.
Yesterday you said it was a joy.
It is a joy,
and it's painful.
We made it!
Come here.
I'm sorry, but Marion is exhausted. Her role is very demanding.
You understand. She's got to rest.
You can come in. It went well.
Send her a note instead. She'll appreciate it.
I didn't know you were here. Come in.
My husband is with me.
I see. I see. In any case, stay in touch.
- Right away? - Yes, put them there.
- It went well, didn't it? - Are you happy? You were wonderful.
You see, Marion, I knew the torn gown would work better.
Sorry, but I must introduce you.
Captain Wiedekind and his wife.
My husband is sorry, but he doesn't speak French.
Cheer up!
- You look sad. - I'm not. Here's to you. I'm fine.
- It was very moving. - And so romantic.
Excuse me.
So, Raymond, everything went well finally.
Yes. Except for that louse, Daxiat.
What are you doing by yourself, Bernard? Something's wrong?
No, I was thinking about the play.
I enjoyed playing with you. I was really moved.
I don't know how I was, but I thought your performance was incredible.
I'll do better in two or three days.
Bernard, help me. See that man over there?
The one by himself?
Yes. Please get him out. I don't want to see him.
Please help me. - Leave it to me.
- Good evening, sir. - Good evening. Remember me?
Yes, of course, but you can't stay here.
This is a private gathering. A work session.
- But Marion is expecting me. - She's not expecting anyone.
She's exhausted. You see? She apologizes. The exit is that way.
- Tell me if she got my flowers. - Your flowers? Tell me about them.
They were so full of thorns her hands were bleeding.
If I were you, I'd go home.
Real fast! So long.
- Hello. - Ah, you were here.
- Yes, it was great. - Excellent.
Thanks.
Congratulations, sir. You were excellent.
- Bravo, Bernard. You were terrific. - Really? Thanks.
- Looking for someone? - No, I'm not.
- Are you happy, Germaine? - I'm especially happy for Marion.
But, Lucas, we won!
I don't understand you. You heard the applause.
It's a hit! - A hit.
Maybe so, but it's far from perfect, believe me.
From down here, you can really tell what doesn't work.
I made notes. I'll read them to you.
Come here. Sit down.
Now, let me see.
Are you crazy? We can't do that now.
They're all waiting for me. I can't stay.
- Then I want you to come back. - When?
We're all up there together.
You know what it's like. I can't leave them like this.
Then come back and spend the night here.
That's impossible. Be reasonable.
I'll come down tomorrow morning before everybody gets here.
At least take my notes and study them.
All right.
Wait. Look at me. Where can I put them?
Keep them, and we'll study them together tomorrow.
Give me a kiss.
I'll see you tomorrow.
He'll write a good review simply because that's his kind of play.
Here's Marion! Where were you?
Hello, Mr. Laurent. I want the Petit Parisien, Aujourd'hui;
La Gerbe, Comedia and Je suis partout.
Daxiat's review:
“The Montmartre Theatre, which has changed management but not its spirit,
has brought us a dull Scandinavian vignette.”
“Dull.” Naturally! He was 15 minutes late.
Of course.
Flat and apolitical, the play deliberately ignores our real problems.
I knew it.
“Mme. Steiner maintains the tradition of Jewish nihilism
that disgraced the Montmartre Theatre long before the war.
True, nothing is Jewish in The Vanished Woman,
and yet it reeks of Jewishness.
Don't expect me to mention
the so-called direction by Jean-Loup Cottins
since it is merely an effeminate version
of what Lucas Steiner has inflicted upon us for so long.”
You hear this?
“As to the acting, what can I say about Marion Steiner's performance
but that she tries to seduce us with her sad little expressions
and recites her lines as if she was on a movie set.
- Go back to the screen, Mme. Steiner.” - You see?
“The only revelation is Bernard Granger.”
No kidding.
“A former actor from Grand Guignol, he creates a convincing character.
A star is born.” - At last.
- You think it's funny. - No, it's not funny.
But the other reviews are good. We can't complain.
With the bookings we've got, I think we have it made.
And it's all thanks to you, Marion. It makes sense.
You don't make movies anymore, so people come to see you at the theater.
“Jewish nihilism that disgraced
the Montmartre Theatre long before the war.”
You see his name: Daxiat. It's as if I had received an anonymous letter.
You're right.
Daxiat has the same motivations as people who write anonymous letters.
Before the war, they were nobodies. Now they're running the country.
But for how long?
Wait.
Look at the book I'm reading. It's about you.
- About me? - Yes.
Look here.
“Not content with monopolizing the stage and the screen,
the Jews steal our most beautiful women.”
“Our most beautiful women."
Good evening!
Your customers sound cheerful tonight.
It's a private party for the Montmartre Theatre.
A table for us?
Under the tall red idols we see over there
A figure moves and hums quietly
A mysterious song A very gentle song
Zumba, Zumba
Listen to me
Mr. Granger, the director of the Hebertot Theater wants to meet you.
Zumba, Zumba
Turn towards me
Your big eyes full of light call me back
Bernard Granger.
You know Mlle. Bataille.
Mr. Daxiat.
My dear Granger, bravo.
Congratulations again. You were fantastic.
- Sir, what you did is despicable! - What on earth are you talking about?
I want you to apologize to Mme. Steiner.
You must be kidding.
Not at all, sir, and you'll apologize to the entire cast.
- I won't fight here! - Then we'll go outside.
You're completely crazy!
This is absurd.
Preposterous!
- You're ridiculous, my friend. - Apologize to Mme. Steiner right now.
- You're a brute, a savage. - Bernard.
- Apologize! - I won't apologize for doing my job.
- I'm asking you to fight! - I won't fight.
- Yes, you will! - You're wasting your time.
I told you I refuse to fight.
- And I tell you, you will! - I'm not a prizefighter. I'm a journalist.
Leave me alone! This is intolerable.
Leave me alone. I want to use the phone.
You irresponsible maniac. What were you trying to prove?
Did you even think about the theater?
What if the play is banned? What if the theater is requisitioned?
All you care about is your theater.
Will it be sold out tomorrow? Where are we at with the rent?
Will we be able to have a matinee on Christmas day?
Yes, the theaters are full, but jails are just as crowded.
Listen to me well. We're in the same boat.
We'll go on performing together, but aside from that,
don't you ever speak to me again.
You're beautiful, Helena. So beautiful it hurts to look at you.
- Yesterday you said it was a joy. - It is a joy...
and it's painful.
It's incredible.
It's sick.
You see, Lucas, the play is running by itself.
You don't have to give us any more direction.
You don't need to look at me that way.
Sometimes I think you hate me.
Of course not. I'd be crazy to hate you.
This is the whole point. You are a little crazy.
I know you by heart. - I know you too.
For me, The Vanished Woman is in the past.
I've got a new idea.
The Magic Mountain.
With a great role for you. Are you listening to me?
- Yes. - So here it is. It's about a cruel woman.
- Me, cruel? - I'm talking about the character.
Yes, she's gentle, tender, also in love
and yet, she is cruel.
She doesn't mean to be.
She is cruel despite herself. - Cruel.
It'll be wonderful. You'll see.
No big words this time. We'll use everyday talk.
I'll use your own words, you understand?
Yes.
I understand above all that from now on
everything I say may be used against me.
- Mr. Daxiat, please. - First office on the right.
Over there.
I confess that I was reluctant to come because with someone like you
it's hard to tell if it's an appointment or an arrest.
Apparently you misread my review.
You call that a review?
I was under the impression it was more like a revenge.
Maybe it was, but it wasn't aimed at you. On the contrary.
- On the contrary? - Yes.
Excuse me.
It's already 4:00?
So, here on each column, “Still Moving Forward,”
with an exclamation mark.
Okay?
Yes.
When I went to the theater the other night,
I was expecting to see a play directed by Jean-Loup Cottins.
Instead I saw a styleless and nondescript show.
Anyway, I felt you were merely a front.
And worse yet, a front for a fugitive.
If I was in a good mood, I'd say I need to consult my lawyer,
but instead, I'd rather leave.
Wait. Wait. I didn't tell you the most important thing.
- I've got a proposition for you. - Whatever it is, my answer is no.
I want you to help me save the Montmartre Theatre.
You know Lucas Steiner signed his theater
over to his wife before he ran away.
We have proof that the transaction is illegal
because the transfer was predated.
This kind of transaction is called a false aryanization.
So?
It means that legally, the theater doesn't belong to anyone
and the Germans could requisition it at any time.
Unless -
Unless what?
Unless it is taken over by someone they approve of.
So, Daxiat didn't beat around the bush with Jean-Loup.
He asked him straight out to share the management of the theater.
Daxiat would select the plays, and Jean-Loup would direct them.
- I'm sure Jean-Loup refused. - Of course not. How could he?
All he could do was say he needed some time to think it over.
The only way to beat Daxiat is to appeal to someone above him.
Someone like Dr. Dietrich.
But Jean-Loup refused to go to the Propagandastaffel anymore.
I have an appointment with Dr. Dietrich.
On the second floor.
Careful, madame.
You'll have to wait to use the elevator.
- I'm here to see Dr. Dietrich. - That's impossible, madame.
I spoke to him on the phone. He's expecting me.
What's your name?
I see. You had a 5:00 appointment, but it's impossible.
- Why? I can wait. - I'm sorry.
You're wasting your time. Dr. Dietrich left for the eastern front.
He had to rejoin his combat unit.
All right then.
Mme. Steiner, I'd like to have a word with you.
Mme. Steiner, I'm an admirer of yours.
Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant Bergen.
- You came to see Dr. Dietrich. - That's right.
He has not left for the eastern front.
He shot himself last night in his hotel room.
It's a tragedy. He admired you enormously.
And so do I.
It's an honor to shake your hand, Mme. Steiner.
Have mercy, my God
It's for our country
That we pray at this altar
Arms bound and her face wounded
She looks up to heaven for help
Merciful God Protective God
Save France in the name of the Holy Spirit
Have mercy, my God for so many guilty men
Have betrayed you not knowing what they were doing
May it be born again and be indelible
With the mark of Christ on their forehead
Merciful God Protective God
Save France in the name of the Holy Spirit
Have mercy, my God if your hand chastises
An ungrateful nation that seems to defy it
It has the right of life and death over you
Only a miracle could save us
Merciful God Protective God
Save France in the name of the Holy Spirit
Have mercy, my God Your beautiful heart
Will listen to our prayers
And guide us into your light
Which delighted the beloved apostle
I must speak to you.
I'm sorry, Mme. Steiner, but it's absolutely necessary.
I'm leaving the theater. I'm giving up my part in a month from now,
so you'll have to replace me.
Sure. I should have expected this.
No, no, it's not what you think. Not at all.
I know you're mad at me ever since the fight with Daxiat,
and I understand your reaction perfectly.
But even if you won't speak to me, or meet my eyes,
we're a good acting team, and I must confess I love the play
and my role more and more each day, so it's not that.
You don't need to justify yourself. You're free.
I'm not even sure we'll need to replace you
because we might have to close the theater in a month.
I suppose you got a better offer elsewhere, with Hebertot I'm sure.
No. I'm not going to work for Hebertot or for any other theater.
I'm temporarily giving up acting
to join the Resistance.
Please, Helena. I wish to speak to Mr. Carl in private.
But if it's about Eric...
I have the right to listen.
Of course you do, Helena.
Civil Defense!
- We're here to inspect the cellar. - Take us there.
Don't you find this unfair, Mr. Carl?
As Eric's mother, I must know what decisions are made for my son.
Frankly, Dr. Sanders, this is an embarrassing situation.
- Don't you think? - If you don't mind, Mr. Carl.
Now, Helena, please leave us alone.
All right then, since I'm not wanted in this house.
This is what happened. It was on October 24.
Helena went for a walk and simply disappeared.
- They want to search the cellar. - The cellar?
It's out of the question.
She came back two weeks later, pale
and incapable of telling us where she'd been.
You mean she had amnesia.
I suppose so. Then she gave birth to her son.
Put them in a side loge.
Follow me, but be quiet.
Right,
but Helena is so dependent on me that it may seem peculiar to strangers.
She behaves like a child toward me.
I don't know why, but she's always overly emotional with me.
At times she seems too humble.
You're right. We'll never know why she feels so guilty.
This impurity she feels in her makes her seek for more inferior people's affection.
So poor Charles-Henri couldn't understand.
And that was the tragedy.
Who is talking about tragedy here?
I have proof that Dr. Sanders didn't come back after Charles-Henri's death
but the day before.
- Do you know these two guys? - They're with the Civil Defense.
No, they're with the Gestapo. I'm sure. I recognize one of them.
- The Gestapo? - Yes.
- If I ask you to help me, will you do it? - Yes.
- But no questions! - Okay.
Yes, love hurts. Like a bird of prey, it circles over us
as if to threaten us.
But this threat can also be a promise of happiness.
You're so beautiful, Helena, that it hurts to look at you.
- Yesterday you said it was a joy. - It is a joy, and it's painful.
No curtain calls tonight.
- What's going on, Raymond? - No curtain calls.
Civil Defense wants to inspect the cellar.
Lucas, this is Bernard Granger.
Bernard, my husband.
Don't just stand there like statues! You've got to take everything and hide.
We've waited long enough. Take us to the cellar!
No. Please, Mme. Steiner wants to take you there herself.
Excuse me.
- I'll talk to Mme. Steiner myself. - No, please.
She's changing! Be reasonable.
- What's going on here? - So what? We all make mistakes.
- We've been patient long enough! - Wait quietly.
Three minutes. Give me three minutes.
There.
I haven't been down there in ages. It's probably full of rats.
- Do you have the key, Mme. Steiner? - Yes.
Thanks. Watch your heads.
I'm no expert, but it seems to me not deep enough for a shelter.
There's eight inches between the ceiling and the courtyard.
What's this?
It's a screen. We used it in The Cherry Orchard.
There's only room for 35 to 40 people. No more.
In any case, it's so humid down here, it was condemned in '39.
- And during air raids? - During air raids, we use the subway.
The local station stays open all night.
Tell me, Mme. Steiner, could we use that staircase for firewood?
Of course, Raymond.
And anyway, there's so many air raids now,
nobody bothers to go down to the shelters anymore.
That's it. They're gone until next time.
- Living down here, that's not a life. - It's a life. It's my life.
Couldn't you find a better place to hide?
I don't want to. This is my home.
And no one will get me out of here.
My wife is beautiful, isn't she?
Let me ask you a question.
She's in love with you,
but do you love her?
I'm falling in love, and it hurts.
Is love painful? - Yes, love hurts.
Like a bird of prey, it circles over us
as if to threaten us.
But this threat can also be a promise of happiness.
You're beautiful, Helena.
So beautiful, it hurts to look at you.
Yesterday you said it was a joy.
It is a joy, and it's painful.
Bernard, may I ask you something?
If I hadn't come here, you would have left without saying good-bye?
That's not true.
I was just waiting until the end of rehearsal.
Well, it's over now.
It was sad. - I watched part of it.
- Well? - It was good.
It taught me a lesson in humility: we're all expendable.
Well, good-bye, Bernard.
I always had the feeling that you were interested in every woman
except me.
First of all, it's not every woman.
And I was intimidated by you. You seemed to disapprove of me.
And at times, you looked at me with a certain hostility.
Hostility? Really?
Yes, I felt you were judging me.
It was just the opposite.
I was so troubled by you.
I was troubled by you.
I tried to look tougher to cover it up so nobody would notice
and I made you hate me.
That's not true. I never hated you.
But I couldn't understand why you had become so distant after you kissed me.
All actors kiss each other.
Not necessarily on the mouth.
I kissed you on the mouth?
Yes.
On opening night.
During the curtain call.
Certainly not.
You kissed me on the mouth.
I know. You see two women in me.
Precisely.
There are two women in you.
One is married and no longer loves her husband.
Don't try to guess. You wouldn't understand.
Don't forget your makeup.
I don't need it.
I'll leave it for my replacement.
I won't be using any makeup where I'm going.
But you may need a disguise.
Forgive me.
Yes, yes.
Yes.
After Bernard left,
The Vanished Woman went on with Lucien Ballard in the role of Carl.
Please, don't say a word. You have no right.
Do you think Mr. Carl will come back, Mommy?
Nadine Marsac, now famous, takes off each night right after her last lines.
A chauffeur waits for her backstage and drives her to the studios.
She plays the lead in Angels of Mercy.
She's reunited with Arlette,
who designs the costumes and sets for the film.
On June 6, 1944, the Allies land in Normandy.
Everyday life is more and more difficult for the Parisians,
yet they crowd in greater number to watch movies and plays.
Isn't Mr. Eric with you, madame?
One night, instead of finding refuge inside the subway station,
the audience stays outside the theater
to watch the ballet of British planes over the skies of Paris.
Many theaters are shutdown for lack of electricity.
But thanks to Raymond's ingenuity, the Montmartre Theatre remains open.
He thought to rep/ace the footlights with a dozen automobile headlights.
Germany's defeat is now inevitable.
After 813 days and nights spent in the cellar of his theater,
Lucas Steiner is impatient to see daylight.
It's one of those strange days in which gunfire is exchanged
without anyone knowing who is shooting at who.
Are you all right?
No. Watch out.
Jean-Loup Cottins is pulled out of bed by partisans of the Resistance.
He is released thanks to his connections,
but he is arrested a second time the next day because of his connections.
As for Daxiat, he is a man on the run.
The former columnist of Je suis partout without a nation.
He lost one eye in the terrible bombing of Hamburg.
After following Pétain to Sigmaringen,
he goes from one monastery to another and finally reaches Spain.
Sentenced to death in absentia, he will die of throat cancer in the '60s.
But at that end of summer of '44, the war isn't over yet,
and our story still needs its epilogue.
I tried to forget you. I couldn't.
If not for your pride, your stupid pride, I would have come sooner.
You'd have had to make up a lie each time you came.
Lie? Why should I lie? And to whom? Since he's dead now.
So, of course, you buried yourself in your work.
No.
I realized I didn't care about it anymore.
I gave it all up.
Listen to me. The only thing that matters to me is to be with you,
to get you out of here.
I know that together we can start all over again.
No.
We can never start again because there is nothing to start.
Nothing was ever real between us.
I thought about loving you, but I never loved you.
Can't you understand me?
It was never clear between us.
You've good reasons to believe I loved you since I believed it myself.
But I never stopped thinking about you, not even for a day.
Me too.
But less and less often. And now, I don't know what you're doing here.
I've forgotten your last name.
I've forgotten your first name.
And I'm beginning to forget what you look like.
Go away.
Listen to me. Listen to me carefully.
It takes two to love,
as it takes two to hate.
And I'll go on loving you in spite of yourself.
My heart beats faster when I think of you.
Nothing else matters to me.
Farewell.
It's Steiner! Look, over there.
- Yes! It's him! - Yes, he's back.
She's right. It's Lucas Steiner.