All language subtitles for Hop-2002

Africans tell many tales
about the Pygmies.

They are believed to have
special powers and great wisdom.

Did you know that we speak French
because of the Pygmies?

It's simple, really.

Why do we speak French?

- Perhaps you could help them, sir?
- Of course.

Just like Italian, Spanish
and Romanian,

French is a Latin language.
It comes from Latin.

Thank you.

We speak French because

of Julius Caesar
and the Romans.

But without the Pygmies, Julius Caesar
would never have existed

because Rome would have been
destroyed long before!

Enter another famous character,
whom you all know.

As a child, he swore
he would destroy Rome.

As a general,
he knew that he'd need

a fearsome army
to keep his pledge.

- The elephants.
- Yes. And where were they from?

From Africa, my brother!

Right!

And that, my brother,
is where the Pygmies come in.

Unlike Indian elephants,
African elephants cannot be tamed.

Only the Pygmies
have the secret, the Hop,

that makes it possible
to control them.

Hannibal knew this,
and he asked them to help him.

The Pygmies got the elephants
across the Alps,

and it was thanks to them

that Hannibal won his greatest victory, at
Lake Trasimene.

Hannibal managed
to lure the Romans there,

between the mountains
and the lake.

On the morning of the battle,
he used the elephants for the first time.

The Romans panicked
and attempted to flee.

But they were trapped. Their only chance
was try to swim across the lake.

By nightfall, over 20,000 Romans
lay at the bottom of the lake.

Hannibal was happy.
He had won,

and Rome was defenseless.

But...

the color of the lake
had changed.

The water had become blood red!

The Pygmies saw this as a sign, and
refused to help Hannibal anymore.

Without his elephants,
Hannibal hesitated,

then set off for Capua all the same.
The Romans rallied and finally beat him.

So, because of the Pygmies,

Rome survived
and Julius Caesar existed.

So, it's thanks to them
that we speak French.

There. I've finished.

Any questions?

Yes.
What's the Hop?

My mother gave me the secret.
She was a Pygmy.

Naturally,
I'm not going to tell you.

I don't know what
you might do with it.

Can you really tame elephants?

Don't be stupid.

Are you going to watch
the match tonight?

What do you think?

Have you got
my M'Penza autograph?

Have you got the dough?

I'll see what I can do!

Nice try!

It's a pity they didn't go for the "essential
equipment for professional purposes" bit.

What did you expect?

When you're drunk behind the wheel,
and you insult the arresting officer,

- you've got to accept the consequences.
- Yes, Daddy!

Count yourself lucky. They've only
withdrawn your license for three weeks.

With your record...

I am eternally grateful to you.

I'd rather you paid me
what you owe me.

Shall I give you a lift
to the station?

Don't worry.
There's no charge.

There's my "essential equipment
for professional purposes."

I have to work
to pay for your little toys.

Frans!
Next time you're up shit creek,

don't come crying to me, okay?

Hello.

- Dad, you scared me!
- What's this?

- It's so we can watch the match.
- We can't afford to take risks.

So get rid of that. Now!

What did you get an "A" for?

French. My presentation.

Did they swallow that tale
about the elephants?

What do you think?

- And that other "A"?
- Maths.

History..."A,"
Geography..."A."

Go on, sign it.

Justin?

Make sure you tidy up
after the match, okay?

Thanks, Dad.

It'd be sad to see an empty stadium
for a match like this.

And the sad ones
are the many spectators,

because it's been
a very poor game.

You've got to be joking!

I don't get it. Every time there's
a match, the TV goes on the blink.

A chance. A slight one.

The hope of a chance.
Actions started and not finished...

and they've finally done it!

- Yeah, brilliant!
- Extraordinary.

Emile M'Penza scores!

In effect, unstoppable.

Into the top right-hand corner.
The net trembles

and M'Penza is happy.

He doesn't have to run
the comb through his hair...

- Alphonse really made a mess of him!
- You could ask for the same style.

Do you think Alphonse could get
M'Penza's autograph for me?

I'll go.

We couldn't miss the beginning
of the championship.

What do you want?

Nothing!

This is just a neighborly visit.

Look! Their reception's perfect.

Not surprising!
They've got cable TV!

- I can explain.
- Don't bother,

unless you want
to explain to the cops.

Maybe we could
arrange something.

He doesn't like cops.
Okay, we'll make a deal.

Right.

This TV, is it yours,

or did you steal that too?
Eh? Answer!

Please.

"Sir."

- "Please, sir."
- Please, sir.

Please, sir.

Good boy.

Hop!

Are you crazy?

You could've killed me!
Idiots!

It's important to get along
with your neighbors.

Hey! That's my car!
Are you crazy?

Come on, Justin.

Into the tunnel, Justin.
Quick!

Run, Justin!

Stop, God damn it!

Did you see a young Black
run this way?

I don't understand.
He ran this way 10 seconds ago.

I was inside.

Besides, I'm not
a police employee.

I see your brake light's
not working.

About this tall, was he,
your runaway?

He went that way.

Thanks.

So, I turned left
into the Avenue de la Loi...

in the wrong direction.

In the wrong direction.
And what do I see?

A car heading straight for me.
I flash my headlights.

It was the cops!

They thought I was
taunting them.

Would you do me a favor?

- What is it?
- You know the hairdresser, in Matonge?

Alphonse?

- Yes. I've got a problem.
- A deportation order?

- Yes. But they haven't got my name.
- So what's the problem?

It's my son.

He's probably hiding
at Alphonse's.

- They mustn't...
- Blunder in and give the game away.

I get the picture.

Thanks.

Have you got any cash?

To cover expenses.

Only joking.

I'll go to Alphonse's
as soon as I get out.

I always wanted to have
my hair cut like M'Penza's.

- You took your time.
- I had to fill her up.

Filled your own tank too,
didn't you?

Tarzan! Down!

What the hell
are you doing here?

- Cat got your tongue?
- He doesn't understand.

You speak French,
don't you?

Calm down, calm down.

All right?

Go and sit in the front.

I'll drop him off at the cops
near the slaughterhouse.

Moise Patrice Joseph Kabila...

Kabila.

- Are you a relative of the President?
- Not really, but l...

I know. In Africa, everyone's a relative
of the President.

It's the same here.

Georges here, for example,
is King Albert's cousin.

Really!

His aunt was
a ballerina in Ostend,

and she did the pas de deux
for Leopold II.

It's the same idea, see?

But, Mr. Kabila,

that doesn't explain
why we found a school report,

signed by Dieudonn� Karikurubu,
at your home.

What do you want?
Political asylum?

I don't give a damn
whether your name's

Karikurubu,
Kabila or Kennedy.

Without papers, you get a deportation
order, and five days to pack your bags.

So, stop messing around!
Tell me your real name,

where the boy is,
and let me get on with my job, okay?

But, Officer, I thought

you'd caught Dieudonn�.

I was only at his place
to watch the match.

I panicked
when the police arrived.

But I quickly gave myself up.

Dieudonn� stayed
in the apartment.

- Aren't you the child's father?
- No, I swear I'm not.

Where are we going?

Frans!

What's that?

That's Justin!

Justin, this is Gerda.

The police arrested his father,
an illegal immigrant.

- Is there any coffee?
- Excuse me?

Where's the bathroom, please?

Outside, in the shed.

You should have
your cesspit emptied.

It's unbearable.

Are you going
to keep him here?

No, I'll take him
down to the station later.

Then what will he do?

That's not my problem.

But he's a minor.

You can't just
throw him out on the street.

I know what you think
of the police.

But that child needs
news of his father

and the easiest way of getting it

is at the police station
nearest his home.

What would you
tell the cops, eh?

"I've got a Black kid here,
no papers.

Have you seen his father,
by any chance?"

Where do you live?

- Are you a relative?
- No.

- Then I'm afraid I can't help you.
- I'm his neighbor.

My cat was at his place
yesterday,

when he was arrested.
I haven't seen it since.

Your cat, eh?

Just a minute.

- Hello.
- Hello, Georges.

Menga Jo.

Djedjiga Lbouzkakhti,

Kabila Moise.

Lubambu Tschilombo.

Sorry.
We have no Karibu.

- He's not there.
- Yes! They haven't got him!

They haven't got him, Frans!

Now what?

There.

Am I going to get
a deportation order?

Not straightaway, Moise.

Something's not quite clear.
Something about a cat.

A lady came in earlier.

She came about
your friend Karikurubu.

She was worried about her cat,
which was at his place. See?

- I don't understand.
- So I got in touch with immigration.

They don't like it when things
aren't crystal clear.

They discovered that
your friend Karikurubu

received a deportation order
four years ago.

- That's nothing to do with me!
- Exactly what I told them.

But they want
to invite you anyway.

It's not every day they meet
the President's cousin.

So you'd better brush up
on your family tree, Moise.

Right back to Adam,
and even further than that.

Right back to the ape that climbed
down out of the tree!

They like that sort of detail.

Sign this.

A cross will do.

I'd have done better
to put him on the train.

Frans, please...

What?
He can't understand.

What are you talking about?

He says he'll think
of something.

Eat.

Chin up, Justin.

There's nothing to say
your dad's with the police.

He may just be in hiding
somewhere.

You're the only one
who could guess where he'd be.

- So, think!
- And eat!

You should go
and see your lawyer.

- Boute? Again?
- He's always got you out of trouble.

He'll be over the moon
to see me,

what with all the money
I owe him.

Have it your way.

I'm off.

Leave that, Frans.
I'll be back tomorrow anyway.

- Good night, Justin.
- Good night.

Goodbye, Frans.

Don't forget to empty
that cesspit.

- She's not your wife?
- No.

Married women want kids.

And kids are always
asking questions.

And I hate questions.
Got it?

You do the washing up.

The Devils have
proved merciless.

All hopes are now
on Emile M'Penza,

the hero of the day.

We're going to the stadium
for news of Emile.

Jean? Can you hear me?
Hello, Jean?

I got 18,000
for the two animals.

But I haven't had time...

to deliver them today.

I've had trouble with my truck.

I'll get round
to it tomorrow. Bye.

I know where Dad is.

- He's at Alphonse's.
- Who's he?

- M'Penza's hairdresser.
- And who's M'Penza?

You've read all those books, and
you don't even know who M'Penza is?

When will he come?

- Next week.
- You say that every week.

This time it's true, I promise.

Is it for a haircut?

- I need to speak to you.
- I'm listening.

Do you know
a Dieudonn� Karikurubu?

- Karikurubu?
- His son told me you cut his hair.

Does anyone here
know a Karikurubu?

- Is he Congolese?
- Don't be silly.

- That's not a Congolese name.
- Senegalese, then?

No. It's a name from the lakes.
Burundi, if you ask me.

- You always think you know best.
- Burundi. Karikurubu.

- Mrs. Know-it-all...
- All right, all right.

I'm sorry, sir. I don't know
all my clients by name.

Thank you.

Here's my number.

If Dieudonn� contacts you,
tell him to call me.

I will.

We'll call you.
Don't you worry.

- He's a cop.
- I knew it.

I knew it as soon
as he walked in.

Wow, you're a real ace!

I've done this all my life.

My dad was a servant.

Where's Frans?

He had to see about some pigs.
Then he was going to Alphonse's.

I'm sure Dad'll get
in touch with him.

He'll ring as soon
as he's got news.

Great.

If it was up to me,
you could stay on here.

Would you like a coffee?

Yes, please.

- Where are you from?
- Burundi.

But I've never
really lived there.

When Mum died,
Dad found work at the embassy.

That's how we ended up
in Belgium.

- Your mother's dead?
- She died when I was little.

That'll be Frans.

Yes, it's me.

Are you at Alphonse's?

It's not possible.

Yes, she's here.

He's going to see his lawyer.

He wants you
to stay with me.

Karikurubu... Kabila.

Karikurubu... Kabila.

Kabila... Karikurubu.

- End of the line, citizen!
- My son is in Belgium.

- Now we're getting to it.
- Where is your boy?

- I don't know.
- You don't know.

Let's speak frankly,
Dieudonn�.

You don't mind
if I call you that, do you?

Listen up, Dieudonn�,

tomorrow at 2:20 p.m.,
there's a flight for Bujumbura.

Two tickets are booked
on that flight.

One for Karikurubu Dieudonn�,

and the other
for Karikurubu Justin.

Understand?

So, you have a choice.
You either tell us where Justin is,

and he leaves with you,
or I use this,

a statement signed by you
that your name is Kabila Moise,

citizen of the Democratic
Republic of the Congo.

This Moise is booked on a plane

that leaves for Kinshasa
at 9:30 a.m.

Each to his Promised Land,
eh, Moise?

Bujumbura, Kinshasa, Kabila...

You've got until tomorrow at 8:00 a.m.
To make up your mind, Dieudonn�.

- So?
- You were right, about Boute.

My lawyer's taking care
of everything.

He'll ring the police station
at immigration.

We should know by tomorrow.

Meanwhile,
you stay here.

The cops are still
looking for you. Okay?

This is for you.

- What is it?
- Open it and see.

This is for you.

It'll help you
with the cesspit problem.

Thanks.

But this is for little kids.

I'm glad you went to Boute.

Yes. He also told me
I was a sentimental old fool.

Thanks, Frans.

Is something bothering you?

What'll happen if your lawyer
discovers that the cops have got Dad?

- Do you know what a lawyer is?
- Not really.

It's someone who's paid to wear
a black robe with a silly little collar,

and bug the hell
out of the cops.

And Boute is the best there is
at bugging the hell out of cops.

He's the M'Penza
of ball-breakers.

They'll give you back
your father

just to get him
off their backs.

What if it doesn't work?
Will they deport us?

You're forgetting
one important thing, Justin.

You're here with me,
and the cops don't know that.

They'll never deport a father
without his child!

Are you sure?

If they do that...

we'll blow up the Atomium.

You're just saying that
to make me feel better.

Look what's written here.

What is it?

Dynamite!
Don't worry.

Without a detonator,
nothing can happen.

See?

But when you put in a fuse...

boom!
No more house!

But the craziest of all
is Alfred Nobel.

- Who's he?
- He's the guy who invented it!

He made a fortune by inundating
the planet with explosives.

Then he came up
with the Nobel peace prize.

Only a Protestant would dare
pull a trick like that.

Begin, Arafat, Kissinger,
Sadat, Mandela...

they all got the Nobel prize
because they played

a lot with dynamite.

That's what this is about...

the border between
the pathetic terrorist

and the peace prize,

the Nobel prize.

Feel better now?

Justin!

Justin, please!

Are you all right?

Leave me alone!

Well, Dieudonn�?
We're listening.

You're going to pull
a Hop on me, aren't you?

A Hop? What's that?

- Do you like hunting?
- Yeah, I love it!

Well, listen, a Pygmy's
only considered a man

when he has tamed an elephant.

What's that got to do
with anything?

I'll explain.

It's a very difficult
thing to do,

because the elephant
is very strong, but above all,

he has an excellent
sense of smell.

To get anywhere near one,

the hunter has to rub elephant
droppings all over his body.

With a bit of luck,
if the wind's right,

he should be able to get
right underneath the elephant.

Then, he takes the rope
from around his chest,

and looks up.

And what does he see?

The most magnificent pair
of balls on God's good earth!

He slips the rope around the balls,
and... Hop!

The elephant will do
anything you ask him.

Today, you're the ones
holding the rope.

Only I can't give you
the answers to your questions.

I don't know where Justin is.

You can send me
wherever you want.

I just hope that one day,

you'll find yourselves
on the other end of the rope.

You're a real poet, Moise.

They say that Kinshasa
is very beautiful...

the river, the allotments,
the scents...

The smells...

I'm sure you'll find it inspiring.

Gerda?

Feeling better?

- What'll you tell Frans about the toilet?
- The truth. Why?

I'm afraid he'll be angry
and hand me over to the police.

No.
Frans wouldn't do that.

He's not a bad guy, you know.
You have to know how to handle him.

How did you meet him?

At the village caf�.

It was years ago, when he used
to come down in the evening.

He was slim back then,
with rugged good looks.

All the girls were
crazy about him.

We even had this stupid bet...

the first one who was
invited to dance

to Laisse mes Mains
sur tes Hanches,

an old Adamo hit,
had won.

I spent a fortune
in that jukebox.

- And?
- Nothing.

He was looking for someone
to help around the house.

So I came.

- As his servant!
- Is that it?

No one ever won the bet.

Frans is better at mulling
over the past

than thinking about the future.

Go on, wash properly.

You've still got shit
behind your ears.

Don't worry about the toilet.
I'll handle it.

Very funny.

I told you to do something
about that cesspit.

I didn't know the gases
were that explosive!

You think that's funny,
don't you?

It's not that bad really.

A Turkish toilet...
very hygienic.

And a beautiful setting!

Justin, go and hide!

But he must have said something
about Justin when they deported him.

They can't just deport a father
without his child, surely.

I don't understand it either.

Well, what now?

We haven't got much choice.

The best thing to do

is to come with me
to the juvenile magistrate.

They'll have
to find your father.

This is the lawyer who's supposed
to terrify the cops?

He forgot to wear his robe.
He couldn't even keep Dad here for a day.

- Calm down, Justin.
- It's not your father in the Congo!

Leave him, Frans!

He'll be back.

What if they pick him up?

- With my record, I'd be in a lot of trouble.
- Is that all you can think about?

We shouldn't have
let him go, Gerda.

Boute may still have been able
to work things out.

By taking him to the cops?

You've changed your tune!

Think, Frans!

In the old days, you'd have
found a solution!

What do you want me to do?
Start a revolution for that kid?

Don't be so stupid.
Not with me.

Your lawyer's right.
I have to go to the police.

Could you drive me there
tomorrow?

Is that really what you want?

I have to find my father.

"Dear Gerda, dear Frans,

First of all, thanks
for all you've done for me.

When I heard you fighting
last night,

I realized it was
because of me.

I think it's best if I go
to the police by myself.

That way I won't be a bother
to you anymore."

This one costs 3,500.

I'd like two like that,
with prepaid cards.

They're for my mum
and dad.

He hasn't even got any money!

Do you realize that?

Give me a hand!

Don't just stand there,
you'll take root!

- What with?
- Give me your lighter.

- Why?
- To make your coffee.

Matches...
haven't you got any matches?

Matches!

I don't think
the boy's penniless.

- He's helped himself!
- We must call Boute, Frans!

He may still be able
to do something.

I don't understand
what's gotten into him.

God damn it!

What's wrong?

I'm going to buy a lighter.

Look at the beautiful view, children.
We can see all of Brussels.

The big building
is the Law Courts.

The Law Courts were built in 1883
by Joseph Poelaert.

The building is huge and here
are held the most trials per year...

Camille, hurry up.

- Both on the European
and Belgian level.

Come along, children.

Get a move on, Sylvain. Good.

- Hurry up, Arnaud.
- Use the stairs, please, sir.

Have you seen a Black kid,
about 12?

No, sir. Too many people around.
Take the stairs up.

Justin!

Hello?
Excuse me.

Justin!

You could have killed me.
Do you realize that?

Where are you?

Are you completely crazy?

There are people in there.
You think this will bring your dad back?

I wanted to make my mark,
before giving myself up.

- They deserve it!
- Who?

The group of Japanese tourists
who've saved 10 years for this trip?

It was your idea.
But you haven't got the balls to do it!

It's easier to write a book
about the Nobel prize.

What's your solution?

Driving me to the cops like a pig
to the slaughterhouse?

Come on.

Where?

We're going to get
your father back.

We've got to choose a target,
symbolic if possible.

Cops are intimidated by culture.

Now, take out the card...

and close it up again.
It's quite safe, now.

We're not going
to blow anything up.

We just show them
that we could if we wanted to.

- Understand?
- Will it work?

We can give it a try.

But swear you won't do
anything stupid on your own again!

I promise.

We'll not tell Gerda.

I'll tell her Boute's looking
for a solution.

Dynamite...
it makes her nervous.

- What about the target?
- One thing at a time.

- It's brilliant!
- What?

Do you know
what the Hop is?

Everything's ready.

Let's do it!

Careful, everybody!

Three, two, one, fire!

This can be considered a serious
warning from the Greens,

for all the parties of
the Rainbow majority.

In sports, Justine Henin has just won
the Filderstad championship,

thus confirming her excellent
start to the season.

Not a word about it.

Perfect!

I just wish I could have seen their faces
when they got the message.

Coffee?

Has Boute been in touch?

He'll call.

This is the first warning

from the Anarchistic Pygmy
Revolutionary Front.

The APRF strikes where
and when it wants.

Anarchistic Pygmy
Revolutionary Front!

It doesn't make sense.
They make no demands,

and they didn't even put
a card in the mobile.

I have no reports of Pygmy activist groups.
Not even a non-profit organization!

I contacted Interpol.
They think it's some Belgian joke.

With dynamite?
No, these are pros.

They don't take any risks.
They're sending us a message.

- Yes. But what?
- It's our job to find out.

Adrien, you shake up the anarchists
and bring in the first informer

who won't look you in the eye.

Simon, you go for Matonge,
the detention centers, the Petit Ch�teau,

and all who gravitate
around them.

Have every Black
under 5'2" tailed.

I want to know everything
about Pygmies...

by tomorrow!

It's a well-known fact, dynamite
makes women nervous.

Cretin!

- "A"?
- Yes.

There, at least
it'll be of some use.

What's metaphysics?

It tries to answer
three fundamental questions:

Where are you from? Who are you?
And where are you going?

Gerda's nice, isn't she?

Do you think she's pretty?

What are you getting at?

Well, she quite likes you.

- Did she tell you that?
- Yes. And some other stuff.

She said she wanted to dance with you,
and that you didn't dare!

Just concentrate
on what you're doing.

So, he takes the rope
from around his chest,

and looks up.

And what do you think he sees?

The most magnificent pair
of balls on God's good earth!

He slips the rope around the balls,
and... Hop!

The elephant will do
anything he's asked.

Today, you're the ones
holding the rope.

But I can't answer
any of your questions...

- Where was he sent?
- To the Congo.

He was clearly being
provocative.

Have you got children?

Here we see Emile M'Penza.

The Belgian team has pinned
all their hopes on him.

The Italians are afraid of him.

So there's still hope... as long as
the Belgians stick to their game,

and don't try to adapt their tactics
to the opponents' game.

A draw would suit everyone.

Four points aren't enough to qualify,
but a victory would probably...

It's Alphonse!

- What's going on?
- You know more about it than me.

The cops are searching the Black
neighborhoods for Justin,

and a group
of Anarchistic Pygmies.

- Up to your old tricks, are you?
- It was my idea.

- You be quiet!
- I had to do something.

You said so yourself.

Frans, have you gone
completely mad?

Gerda, it's a bluff.
There's no real danger!

Anyway, they'll never
come looking for us here.

Justin Karikurubu,
of African origin.

At the time of his disappearance,
he was wearing a blue jumper and jeans.

In connection with the same story,

the person who visited the police station
in Rue Haute on June 7th,

is requested to get in touch
with the station nearest to them.

Frans, the whole village
will be calling.

...anyone with information...
- Let's get out of here!

...can call 080041269,
080041269.

They mustn't find anything here,
or the game'll be up.

Don't worry. I'm not going
to blow anything up.

Go.

I'll keep them busy.

There must be Black kids
all over Belgium.

238 calls already!

He's been seen in Duinbergen,
Kalmthout, Lamormenil, Wenduine...

not to mention the cities.
Some even saw him at the Atomium!

Bingo! We've got the girl!
Gerda Van Hove.

- Eight calls from one village!
- Gerda who?

Van Hove.
Two words, spelt with an "H."

- She has no record.
- And Misonne? Frans Misonne.

Wait, I've got
to tell you something.

Frans Misonne,
member of the MCC,

Militant Communist Cells,
aka the "pressure cooker" group,

because they liked to explode
pressure cookers full of dynamite

outside American multinationals,
in the '80s.

Misonne was suspected of being
their bomb expert.

Questioned during
Operation Mammoth.

He got five years with parole,
because we had no proof,

and because his lawyer was
a major pain in the ass.

Lawyer or not,
his goose is cooked this time.

I should hope so.
Do you remember how it all ended?

Three dead.

I warned the police myself.

And the idiots did nothing
to evacuate the place.

Do you want to call it off?

I've got a score to settle.

We'll make them bring
your father back!

- Where are we going?
- To the countryside.

Is that all you could get?

It�ll do for five days.

By then, I hope it'll be over.

Do you think
we really need sheets?

Same symbol,
with a demand this time:

The return of Dieudonn�
Karikurubu

and a promise of immunity
for the blackmailers.

Two:
Total media blackout.

Three: The procedure.
Classic, in two phases.

First, a dedication "To the girl who won
the bet about the Adamo song,"

in the radio program
"Love Story,"

if we accept their demands.

Next, on the same program,
another dedication:

"To those who won their bet,"
when Dieudonn� arrives in Belgium,

followed by a phone number.

Dieudonn� has
to be on the line, free.

Lastly, the deadline:
48 hours from today,

otherwise...

How's the investigation going?

The house is surrounded,
Minister.

There's little movement.
They've dug in.

No neighbors.
It's an ideal setting for intervention.

- Well, what are you waiting for?
- Just one problem.

- The toilet.
- What about the toilet?

It's outside.
Only the woman uses it,

so we're not sure
the others are there.

Minister, I think it would be wise
to find the father.

Why are you looking for a target,
if we're not blowing it up?

To stick a flag in it,
and give them a fright!

They're no angels,
you know!

They won't give you
your dad back just like that.

For this to work,
we have to be consistent...

no target means no threat,

no threat means no Dad!

Got it?

What is it?

A work of art.

And now, for the girl
who won her bet,

Salvadore Adamo,
"Laisse mes Mains sur tes Hanches."

Let's dance.

What the hell
are you doing here?

- You're the boy they're looking for!
- Justin, grab the bag! Quick!

Stay there.

Don't move!
Stay where you are!

- Stay right there!
- Run! Run!

Stay right there!

- Where is he?
- In the kindergarten classroom.

The guard didn't want to leave.

He's sure he's going
to be on the news.

I promised him a medal.

Apart from him and a few kids,
no one saw a thing.

- Perfect.
- What should we do? Take him in?

No. Let him stew
for a while.

He's all right where he is.

- What about the kid?
- He's gone.

Gerda's been very helpful.

She says the pressure cooker
episode traumatized you,

that you've given up activism
and devoted yourself to literature.

I'd like to believe her,
but there's a problem.

The kid. Apparently,
he hasn't got your scruples.

He's just been spotted at Spa,
stealing a mobile phone.

Perhaps he's aiming for the Nobel prize.
But he won't get it.

As soon as he uses that phone,
we'll pinpoint him exactly.

We have the number this time.
So don't count on him to save your bacon!

If you really don't want
any explosions,

tell us the target.

If you do, I'll stress
your sentimental side

in my report.

Take this.

It'll help you think.

Call your mother!

He's broken his bottle
and wants to talk to his mummy.

Have you found the boy?

Not yet.

Then you're done for.

He has two cards,

and by now
everything must be in place.

I'll tell you
what the target is,

so you can evacuate
the area this time.

I don't want any more deaths.

I'm listening.

- The dam at Gileppe.
- You're bluffing!

He can't have more than
four sticks of dynamite in that bag...

a firecracker against a dam.

Achilles.

Works of art always
have a weakness.

The locks!

20 million p.s. I...

One well-placed firecracker,
and boom!

I hope you've found his father.

Because Justin...

is a sentimental fool, too.

Attention! Attention!
Evacuate immediately!

This is a Civilian Rescue
announcement. I repeat,

this is a Civilian Rescue
announcement.

Come on, come on.
Hurry up!

I repeat,
this is not an exercise.

Evacuate immediately!
Take no personal belongings, no pets.

Rally point at the church square.

There's only the windmill and
the two chalets left to check.

Civil Rescue want
the mobile network open,

to communicate
in case of panic.

Does he want us
to parachute in life vests?

Get him on the line for me.
I'll give him a piece of my mind.

Not necessary.
He's done for.

What do you mean?

From here to here,
it's 345 yards!

Say, 15 seconds
per 100 yards,

that's a run of 60 seconds for the men
on the intervention team.

- That's right.
- So?

- What does the letter say?
- To start the music with a dedication

- when the father is in Belgium.
- And give the boy a number

where he can reach his dad.

He's got two cards
and two mobiles,

one for the bomb,
the other for himself.

If we start the music and
give him a number, he'll call.

He can't talk to his dad, and explode
the bomb at the same time.

"Hi Dad, is that you?"
"Yes, Justin.

I'm so glad to hear you."
"Did you have a good journey?"

"Yes, just fine."

That's already 15 seconds,
and the intervention team is here.

At worst, he sees them.

By the time he's understood,
hangs up,

decides to blow the bomb,

punches in the right number,

with the adrenaline pumping
through his system,

and presses "ok,"
the bomb will already be disarmed.

It's a close call.
But it can be done.

The father has to speak with him
for over 65 seconds.

What if he won't?

We'll give him some incentive.

Mr. Karikurubu,
welcome to Belgium.

- Where's Justin?
- Let me explain.

If anything goes wrong, you won't
recognize your son's body.

I understand, madam.

I must talk
for over 65 seconds.

I don't know
if I should thank you.

Sit down.

- Start the music.
- And, for those who won their bet,

the most awaited
phone number is

0475646251.

I repeat,
0475646251.

- Hello, Dad, is that you?
- Yes.

- It's me, Justin.
- I pulled the Hop on them, Dad.

- We've won!
- Crest 63... 6,3... in the center.

You're wrong, Justin.
Look down.

He would have seen them anyway.
I won't lie to him.

What's happening, Dad?
Aren't you free?

No, Justin. They brought me
back to Belgium.

I'm in the tower, near the dam.
They've promised to re-examine my case.

- You can stop now.
- Rubbish, Dad!

They killed Frans.
I've got to finish this. For him.

Frans?

He's here by my side!

Here he is.

Frans?

Dad?

Dad?

- Speak!
- You're lying, Dad!

Tell the cops to back off,
or it blows!

Do you hear me?

Look at the lake, Justin!

- What color is it?
- What are you talking about?

45 seconds!

He's hung up.

The lock is clear!

Send in the dogs!
I want him alive!

It's over.

C�sar! Brutus! Go!

Go on!

C�sar! Brutus! Down!

Anything to the left?

Anything to the right?

Delta to Mike.

The dogs are chasing cows,
we've lost him.

He's covered himself with shit.

That's why the dogs
have gone crazy.

Idiots!

What should I do
with the father?

Take him in.
He still has no papers.

And the roadblocks?
The men aren't happy...

and the Mayor's wondering
why we're still on full alert.

Dismantle them.

He's got no more explosive and
nothing to eat. We'll soon spot him.

Could you get me
some whiskey, please?

St�phane, hurry it up.
There's a match on.

You're crazy to come here.
The cops are looking for you everywhere.

I've got to see Emile.

He's resting
before tomorrow's match.

I've got to talk to him.
It's very important!

It's for my dad!

We'll see if he wants
a blow-dry.

So it's my fault
this happened?

- That's not what I meant.
- I should hope not!

- What can I do?
- Report in sick tomorrow.

You've got to be joking!

Everybody's counting on me.
If we win, we're into the quarter-finals.

- That's precisely why we need you.
- What can they do to you, eh?

At worst, you make a rapid
recovery before the match.

Ronaldo does it all the time.

You're my last hope.

How do you intend
to go about this?

We're going to pull
a Hop on them. A real one!

There's just one thing,
but you're not going to like it.

Tell me it isn't true.

It belongs to the Red Devil's
center-forward.

He's in the hospital in great pain.
Terrible stomach pains!

It seems
he's been cursed.

Ridiculous! Don't tell me
you believe in that rubbish?

Of course not.

- What are their demands?
- The same as before, Minister.

To continue the kid's education
in Belgium with his Dad,

and the release of Frans Misonne
and Gerda Van Hove.

- Is that all?
- He swears to keep the whole deal secret.

- Has the press got wind of this?
- Not yet.

Maybe we could
take into account

the humanitarian
side of the affair.

After all, that's
what I was elected for.

It's not every day
you get into a quarter-finals,

especially
as we're in the spotlight.

You know how malicious
the media can be.

They make a song and dance
when a hooligan gets beaten up.

It'd be a pity
to give them an easy story...

a Pygmy curse,

a boy who wants
to finish school,

a naturalized center-forward,

black magic,
a failed deportation...

They'd have a field day!

Even I could make
an explosive headline...

But I've never removed a curse.

- How on earth...
- Don't ask me.

No, of course not.

Don't forget the terms.
Absolute discretion, okay?

I've got your talismans
and everything.

No, he must work alone.

- Mr. M'Penza.
- It's him.

And Hop!

And Hop!

Bunch of idiots.

He won't be long.

M'Penza's return
must be official by now.

Dad!

You are a great Pygmy.

What shall we do now?

There's one more thing
to settle.

Look, there's M'Penza.

Not during
the national anthem!

- What do you want?
- Just a neighborly visit.

I'm sorry. Come in.

- After you.
- Thank you.

- Great picture!
- He's got cable TV.

- I can explain everything.
- We're just here for the match.

Okay, that's enough.

Get out,
or I'll call the cops.

Ask for Officer Taminiaux.

She'll be glad
to meet the guy

who smashed that car
the other day.

He doesn't like the cops.

Please, take a seat.

Thanks.

"Sir"!

"Thank you, sir."

Thank you, sir.

It's important to get along
with your neighbors.

Hey, Justin!

Did you get
my autograph?

No, I had a few
metaphysical problems.

- Meta-what?
- Metaphysical!

It consists of three
important questions:

Who are you? Where are you from?
Where are you going?

It's like your Hop.
Just a load of rubbish!

Whatever you say!