Original subtitles

"Never do two …

gazes meet.

No sign …

of life. Silence.

Emptiness.

Warmth.

The light fades.

Nowhere

in the setting of this narrative

without boundaries,

telling of the monotony,

telling of the grind,

day after day.

Anonymous, this young man from Marseilles

talking around the clock,

talking with others.

Sharing life,

unable

to be alone.

No sign anywhere."

Excuse me. Aren't you Madeleine Zimmer?

Yes. Why? Have we met?

I've seen you in here before.

That's possible.

Sorry, but a friend of mine, Robert Poicard,

knows someone you know. A guy named Dumas.

Oh, sure. Marcel.

The door!

He told me Dumas might be able to get me a job.

At the magazine?

He works for a magazine? I didn't know that.

If it's Marcel Dumas, he does.

You work for this magazine too?

I used to, in the photo department, but not anymore.

I'm trying to make a record. Are you looking for work?

Not exactly, but I just did my military service.

Was it fun?

It's 16 months of your life with no comfort,

money, love, or free time.

In other words, modern life.

Twenty-four hours a day of submission to unbridled authority,

16 months of struggle a young Frenchman must endure

to win relative freedom

from authority, when he's had no exposure to culture.

It can become a life of submission,

because the military and industrial complexes coexist well,

as do the logics of money and order.

It doesn't sound like fun.

So you're at loose ends?

Not quite.

But I'd like a change.

I often have to work in adverse conditions.

For instance, I'm at Naphtha Chemical now.

What's that?

That big white building near the Citroën plant.

I've met some good people there.

The working class in Paris is generally decent.

They like to talk. Maybe a little too much.

That's what hurts the Party, I think.

It has lots of members, but not many true activists.

It's because of working conditions.

There are no breaks.

Management did away with them to increase output.

So a worker has no time for himself.

His life is nothing but work, eating, sleep, work.

I'm fed up.

I'm meeting Marcel here later.

What's your friend's name?

You're a slut!

I'm fed up with your insults!

It's not my fault.

You only understand insults. You don't know what you want.

I do too.

Let go of Patrick! He stays with me!

Go find yourself another maid!

The door!

Hi.

How's it going? - Terrible.

What's wrong?

I'm saying things are terrible until 10:00.

An espresso.

It's 10:05 now.

Really? Then everything's fine.

Still working the night shift?

Haven't you read the papers? We're on strike.

The government will lose this time. Or so I hope.

The Communist union call the strike?

Yeah, with the anti-Communist union.

And what do those bastards say?

Oh, you know.

Yeah, I remember. Just like with the Catholics.

Before I forget, sign this.

"We, the undersigned, concerned with the arrest and sequestering

of eight artists and writers in Rio de Janeiro

accused merely of voicing their opposition to state policy …

hereby protest this violation of freedom of expression

traditionally recognized in Brazil

and demand the release of these eight prisoners."

Last week it was Madrid.

What'll it be next?

Athens, Baghdad, Lisbon.

How much are you making these days?

HUMAN LABOR

RESURRECTS THINGS

FROM THE DEAD

Did you ask about the room?

I meant to tell you.

I can't take it.

Still sleeping in your car?

Yes. I still live in Soissons.

Yesterday or the day before I yelled to you on Place Clichy.

Didn't you see me?

I did, but I was with my cousin.

Seeing her a lot?

It's rough, you know.

Have you seen your girl again?

Who, Madeleine? She doesn't interest me in the least.

So, not getting laid then?

- The stadium? - At the other end of town.

The stadium?

At the other end of town.

What were you doing?

- Putting myself in his shoes. - And?

And nothing.

They say, "Put yourself in his shoes."

Well, it's pointless.

Watch this.

Can I have some sugar, miss?

Not bad.

Her breasts?

Let me give it a try.

Can I have some sugar, miss?

So?

Fabulous.

Gotta go.

See you Friday.

You got it.

Today in Paris. What do young women dream about?

But which young women?

The assembly-line inspectors with no time to make love

because they're so worn out?

The manicurists on the Champs-Élysées

who start hooking at age 18

at the big Right Bank hotels?

The rich schoolgirls

who only know Bergson and Sartre

because their bourgeois parents keep them locked up?

There is no average Frenchwoman.

- You okay? - Fine.

Marcel said it's working out.

I know.

Did you agree on salary?

We're talking it over on Tuesday.

Did you know it's the 23rd?

Yeah. So?

What about the 23rd?

You said we could go out on the 23rd.

I never said that.

I never said that.

You're a hell of a liar.

I don't think I am.

Why the "ha ha"?

I don't know. You never lie?

Never?

Sure, sometimes, but as a rule not very often.

Why not?

I lie to you sometimes.

To me? Why do you lie to me?

So I'm not your type?

No, that's not it.

Do you think my nose is too big?

Not at all.

Glad to hear it.

Why do you want to go out with me tonight?

Because I think you're pretty. And for some tenderness.

You don't like anything else about me?

Sure. Everything.

For instance?

Your hair, eyes, nose, mouth, hands.

Does "going out" mean "going to bed"?

Give me a straight answer.

Answer me.

How old are you?

I'm 21.

Are your parents still around?

They're around.

Do you see them often?

Once in a while.

You go out with girls a lot?

Once in a while.

I'd like to go to bed with you.

And you?

I never thought about it.

And now that I'm asking?

Why did you say we'd go out on the 23rd?

That was a lie.

Why'd you lie to me? I believed you.

I know it's not nice, but —

Paul, do you ever take girls out at night?

I said I did.

What kind of girls?

- Girls I like. - Girls like me?

Ever go with a hooker?

It's happened.

But I don't like hookers. It's sad and without feeling.

- Spare me the details. - I was just telling you.

Why are you telling me?

No reason. To show you how I feel.

What do you do at night when you're alone?

Like tonight. What are you doing?

Tonight, I —

I've got lots of photos to sort out for the magazine.

Is that true?

What kind of photos?

Fashion photos we took.

But you said you're making a record,

nothing about any fashion photos.

They're not mutually exclusive.

I still handle fashion photos. I sort them, file them.

- Photos of you? - No, never of me.

Going out with a guy tonight?

I saw you with a guy the other night. He was tall. Very tall.

Yes, I ran into him.

Really? That's not true.

- Yes, it is. - I don't believe you.

Where did you two go?

Out to a café, that's all.

What did you talk about?

My record.

If we go out, are you afraid I'll come on too strong?

Is that why you won't go out with me?

Yes, maybe.

Why be afraid of that?

You're so pretty.

It makes me uncomfortable.

I really like your kind of breasts.

It matters.

Look me in the eye.

What are you thinking about as you look at me?

Look at me. - Nothing.

Nothing? You must be thinking of something.

We always do. Now, as you look at me.

- I'm looking. - Now. What are you thinking of?

Well —

What's the center of the world for you?

The center of the world?

We've never talked,

and the first time we do, you ask me weird questions.

I think it's a perfectly normal question.

- True. - Come on. Answer me.

Love, I guess.

Funny. I'd have said "me."

Does that sound strange?

Don't you think you're the center of the world?

In a way, sure.

What way?

By living, being, seeing with my own eyes,

speaking with my own mouth, thinking with my own head.

Do you think people can live alone?

Alone, all the time?

I don't think they can. No, they can't.

It's like I said: We can't live without tenderness.

We'd kill ourselves.

Look me in the eye.

If I said I'd love you one day, would it make you happy?

Sure it would.

Times had changed.

It was the age of James Bond and Vietnam.

Hope swept the French left as the December elections loomed.

I turned 21 two days before.

Robert and I put up posters around Paris.

My affair with Madeleine was really heating up.

She introduced me to Elizabeth.

Robert liked Catherine, who was probably still a virgin

but had the makings of a future militant.

- Things booming in Vietnam? - Sure are.

- Killing lots of Communists? - Sure are.

Burning the whole country with napalm. Fantastic!

Women, children — all wiped out.

Nice work.

PEACE IN VIETNAM

Philosopher and filmmaker share a way of being,

an outlook on life that embodies a generation.

Paris, November 25, 1965.

I have a plain blue coat.

Elizabeth's is trimmed in white.

I live at her place, opposite the el.

It's cold. We had lunch at a snack bar on the rue Marbeuf.

Paul kissed me for the second time.

Elizabeth is a bit jealous.

I don't care.

RCA is releasing my first single in two days.

I hope it sells.

Then I can buy a Morris Cooper.

I'm glad Paul's in love with me.

I might let him screw me.

But he'd better not become a pest.

See anything?

Nothing. What do we do?

I'm getting off at Étoile.

Let's go to the Palladium.

Hell, no. I'm beat.

I'll ride with you until Montparnasse.

- Come on. - I don't feel like it.

You can really be a stupid nigger.

- No comment. - What?

I said, "No comment."

That's enough. Shut your trap!

Know what you niggers are?

You're potential murderers.

And you know it.

And you, your dream is to be like a Hollywood hooker.

Money is all you think about. It's written all over your face.

They just don't get it.

They just don't get it.

They take their heads in their hands and blather,

"Oooh, I just love Bessie Smith."

They have no clue what she's singing about.

"Here's my big fat black ass."

She's not singing about love.

What, then?

It's not about desire, not about sorrow.

Nothing like what you think.

Want me to tell you?

Her big fat black ass is telling you to fuck off.

That's what.

Same goes for musicians.

Take Charlie Parker.

Hey! Look out!

Say to him, "Charlie boy, drop your sax

and you can bump off the first 10 whites

you meet in the street."

He'd throw his horn in the ocean

and never play again.

What are you morons staring at?

NOTHING LEFT BUT A WOMAN

AND A MAN

AND AN OCEAN

OF SPILLED BLOOD

Genitals — come off it! Genitals are part of the body.

- Sure, but — - It's sexuality.

I don't think so.

What is it for you, then?

For me, first of all, sexuality means skin.

- What? - The skin for me is very important.

Skin.

I think there can't be any contact between two people if —

It all starts with skin contact, I think.

You shake someone's hand.

You realize right away with a handshake

if you feel something.

A person's gaze, his eyes, whatever — don't they count?

Excuse me?

The eyes, the look.

I don't know.

You think Paul is good in bed?

- Who? - Paul.

THE MOLE HAS NO CONSCIOUSNESS,

YET IT BURROWS IN A SPECIFIC DIRECTION

I don't have time.

Be nice. It'll only take five minutes.

You may not care, but my first record means a lot.

I do care. Honest.

Let's sit down.

So, now what?

It's no good here. Let's try the other side.

Just tell me what it is.

"Eglantine, in a frenzy of love …"

"There will always be girls who, asked to sit, immediately lie down."

"The duchess was naked, the little prince dressed like Chaplin."

"Not a sign of bra or panties, stark-naked."

"Her fleur-de-lys patterned panties slipped to the floor."

"She had long legs."

"Early the next morning, I went to look in the little garden."

"I've seen all kinds, hell, yes, but never one so easy."

"First of all, I had no time to lose.

I stretched her out naked on my blanket

and her arms made me the most charming —"

"She weighed only 112 pounds,

but she had plump thighs of satiny flesh, eager for love and kisses."

We're better over there.

Cassis and mineral water.

Nothing for me, thanks.

It's not that I want to. I need to.

When my wife died, I learned one thing:

I can't stop.

I have to start over from scratch.

I'm asking you to be patient.

I have to go. I'm late.

Just leave me alone Oh, please, let me be

We're nothing but friends Can't you see

Let me go on just being me

What I wanted to say is

will you marry me?

We'll discuss it later. I'm in a rush.

Let me know if I've got a chance

Of ever finding true romance

Let me know how long I'll wait

To meet the guy who'll share my fate

With you, all the girls cry

With you, I just don't know why

With you, I'll spend hours or more

A waiting your footsteps at my door

Shall we have a drink?

An Orangina, please.

Cassis with mineral water.

I'm sorry about before.

Isn't Sandie Shaw the greatest?

It makes me sick.

Carrying on like that. It gets my goat.

- I have an idea. - What?

Let's go. We've had enough of him for today.

Good idea.

You can pay.

See you at the pool?

How much?

Coke, please.

Say, mister, want to take some pictures with me?

Pictures?

Photographs.

Sure, why not?

If you want to see my breasts, it's 150 F.

I've only got 100.

Okay. But you can't touch.

You must be kidding!

I want to live with you.

You'll stand me up …

tonight.

The stars are falling.

Madeleine,

here we are in the big city.

Madeleine, imagine something written like this:

"Astor, the modern man's cigarette."

Remember, you'd just climbed out of the pool.

The same record was playing. Remember, remember.

December 5, 1965. The stars.

I want to live with you!

Yes, a brunette in a bikini.

We'll play table football. Sure!

Look! This is the airfield.

You put on your lipstick and hold me tight.

We've taken off.

"This is the control tower.

Boeing 737 calling Caravelle.

Paul calling Madeleine!"

I don't believe you anymore You've lied too much to me

You know darn well my address But never a letter did I see

You've hurt me more than I can say Why should it be this way

I waited for the echo Of a more wonderful day

- The door! - Something just happened.

I hear steps coming up fast behind me.

Who can be running this late?

So I turn around.

I see a guy who says, "Sorry. Did I scare you?

I'm so sorry. Excuse me. Forgive me."

I thought he'd go on.

I keep walking,

and the footsteps get closer and closer.

And I see a guy who says,

"Sorry. Excuse me. Forgive me. I didn't mean to scare you."

Very polite and all.

I look at him. It's not the same guy as before.

I keep walking.

Then, all of a sudden …

for the third time,

he runs past me.

I feel relieved, but he stops a few yards ahead.

I look at him,

and I realize it isn't the same guy.

I mean, not the first or the second, but a third guy.

So I say, "You're not the same guy."

So he looks at me and says, "Maybe not.

It doesn't matter.

What matters is that you feel you're being followed.

It's not the person.

But I feel bad.

I should've run faster. You'd have been scared.

I ran too slow. You weren't scared."

So I say to him, "Listen …

if this is a joke, it's sick. A pretty bad joke."

He looks at me and says, "Think this is a joke?

You really think it's a joke?"

But then —

Then what?

He says to me, "Then you don't get it."

I have posters to put up on Saturday. Come with me?

Not Saturday. You know I can't.

Bring her along.

Hell, no.

You're making a mistake. But suit yourself.

You'll never find a personal solution.

There is none. You have to fight.

In the struggle, you end up learning.

You accept too much. You just can't.

I've got a right to have girl troubles.

Girls, money — it's all simple when you come down to it.

It's a kind of movement

of perpetual rebellion.

I can't accept everything you accept.

That's why I'm a union activist.

I admire you.

Then come along.

I'll think about it.

What are you reading? - An article on Bob Dylan.

Who's he?

He's a Vietnik, you know.

What's that?

It's a Yank word, a cross between "beatnik" and "Vietnam."

Let me see.

"Who are you, Mister Bob Dylan?"

Old man Hitler said it

And old man Stalin too

And now old man Johnson

There's only one thing to do

Nothing else to do but kill 'em

Madeleine never mention him? He sells 10,000 records a day.

Oh, her? I think I might dump her.

I'm seeing her tonight, in fact.

Why "in fact"?

I lost my room.

The old lady moved her nephew in.

Maybe Madeleine can put me up. They've got two beds.

There's that bitch Elizabeth.

I like her freckles.

You stand a better chance with Catherine.

Oh, yeah? Last week at the Rex cinema,

I asked her what kind of bra she wore.

And?

The slap she gave me!

She must wear "O'Yes" bras.

"O'Yes, what a pretty bust!"

Know what made Camille so popular?

No, I don't.

Give me your hand.

No, stick your finger out.

I don't know why I'm laughing.

Actually, I'm really down.

Because of Madeleine?

Ever realize that in "masculine" there's "mask"

and "ass"?

- And in "feminine"? - There's nothing.

PURITY IS NOT

OF THIS WORLD

BUT

EVERY TEN YEARS, IT SHINES, IT FLASHES

Lonely and dreadful is the night after which the day doesn't come.

American scientists succeeded

in transmitting ideas from one brain to another,

by injection.

Man's conscience doesn't determine his existence.

His social being determines his conscience.

We can suppose that, 20 years from now,

every citizen will wear a small electrical device

that can arouse the body to pleasure

and sexual satisfaction.

Give us a TV set

and a car,

but deliver us from liberty.

"Dear Marquis, how content you appear.

All things delight you. Nothing mars your cheer.

Can you in perfect honesty declare

that you've a right to be so debonair?"

My voice doesn't reflect my lowest and deepest thoughts.

That's not what Boileau says.

That struck me back in high school.

I can't explain it.

It happens to me a lot.

Where the hell are they?

Do you often fall in love?

Can I speak frankly with you?

Sure.

You say that, but you don't mean it.

Sure I do.

You seem very straightforward,

but it's a defensive attitude.

Not that I care. I care about Madeleine.

Still, it's a shame.

If you say so.

Let me ask you a question now.

What?

She asked me to ask you.

What?

She's afraid you'll get her pregnant.

What an idiot.

I'm old enough not to screw all the way.

Would you be afraid?

Not me. I use a thingamajig.

What's that?

What is it?

A gadget from America.

A guy from Air France brought one for Elizabeth.

Madeleine thinks it's indecent.

I can understand her being scared.

I'm sure she didn't ask you to ask me.

Ask her when she comes in.

Ask me what?

Nothing.

- I'm No. 6 in Japan. - Really?

With "Pinball Champ."

More!

Who's ahead of you?

The Beatles, France Gall, Bob Dylan —

I didn't know you were "a warm and sociable person."

"She's in a world of her own.

She has fine features, high cheekbones, and white teeth.

Our star's delicacy, skin tone and bone structure

compete with her glowing smile

and the impish gleam in her eye.

She demands authenticity, of herself and others.

Originality bores her, but her mind is lively.

She mistrusts what isn't sincere and open."

Don't make fun of me.

It's true.

Look, it's in France-Soir.

Let me see.

Somebody phoned for you.

Who?

I don't know.

My memory's going …

- Tell her. Don't kid around. - Paul answered.

I told him to go blow and to lay off my old mother.

"What's that, Marquis? I don't have an old mother!"

He's gone nuts. Make him stop.

What's with you? Clear the table!

Oh, truly, Mrs. Smith, your daughters

Oh, truly, Mrs. Smith, your daughters have big noses

First a bath, then to bed.

Not that awful music again!

You bet.

Then I'm going.

Here it comes.

Here it comes.

The orchestra is fantastic.

What's the matter?

I have a flea.

Got it!

No paper in the john?

Use the copy of Le Figaro on the chest.

What a thing to do to Mauriac.

When you think that Beaumarchais,

that prince of artists, coined the name "Figaro,"

and now it's emblematic of everything bourgeois.

It's enough to drive you to suicide.

She must have seen Robert.

You morons!

You take Paul. You have more room.

No. Coming, Paul?

Do you mind?

No. Do what you want.

I'll have one last cigarette.

Oh, no! Lights out!

Let me finish my chapter first.

Good night.

See you.

Move your behind, Madeleine.

Don't say "behind." Say "bottom."

Not "bottom." "Buns."

No, you say "butt."

"Bum."

"Heinie."

"Moons."

"Rear end."

And for genitals?

I'm going to sleep.

You say "nuts and bolts."

Can I put my hand here?

Give me a break.

I've always wondered —

Easy, Paul.

"Love, love

In the heart of man is solitude

And your face thrown back

Over the brow of my female nakedness

And my love is in the sea

In dreams

And here we are against death."

SLEEP, WHICH CAN SHUT THE EYES OF PAIN,

CONCEAL ME A MOMENT FROM MYSELF

What're you doing?

Hold this string.

Put it there.

Ever hear of the Marquis de Sade?

He's the one who said,

"Frenchmen, yet another effort, if you would be Republicans."

A nation took up the sword of Turenne

and propelled across Europe the first army of justice.

And for 100 years, this ragged army

fulfilled the noblest dreams of the world.

They dethroned 20 kings,

crossed the Alps and the Rhine.

What have you and I to do, Mr. Mitterrand,

with these immense shadows that made Europe dance

to the sound of liberty?

Are you Elsa?

DIALOGUE WITH A CONSUMER PRODUCT

- You a friend of Madeleine's? - I know her well.

Where did you meet?

At the magazine. She worked there.

- Which magazine? Miss 19? - Yes, that's the one.

What do you do there?

It's pretty special. I was voted "Miss 19."

Why all these questions? Tell me.

I'm a pollster for IFOP.

You've changed jobs?

I wasn't making enough at the magazine.

IFOP is a polling institute.

I'm into sociology.

It's fascinating.

Why do you want to be "Miss 19"?

It's not because I want to. I was lucky to be chosen.

I never understood why.

I was chosen "Miss 19," so I'll be "Miss 19" for a year.

Why do you say "lucky"?

It's marvelous. You can't imagine all the advantages I've had.

What advantages?

I've won lots of marvelous things.

I have a car and I've taken great trips all over.

What did you do before?

I was in school.

Studying what?

For my graduation exams.

And you didn't want to continue?

Once I was chosen, everything changed.

You'd rather have a car than a diploma?

I'm happy because I've got both.

Do you think socialism still has a future?

Socialism?

Is that what you asked?

I'm not qualified to answer. I know nothing about it.

What is socialism to you?

I won't try to explain, because I'll get all mixed up.

For instance, if I were to ask:

"Would you rather live the American way or be a socialist?"

Do you see a difference?

Sure, but to give you an answer —

What does "the American way" mean to you?

A very fast-paced life, probably. Very free.

I say that since I had a chance to visit the US to see what it was like.

And what was it like?

It was extraordinary. Really great.

"Extraordinary." Meaning what exactly? Be specific.

Everything's different from France.

You live, you work hard,

but it's very fast.

You get the feeling

of always being on the run, being somebody, having lots to do.

Women play a big role there. That's pretty good.

Does the word "reactionary" mean anything to you?

What?

What a question! I don't know.

Reactionary means being in opposition,

reacting against lots of things, not agreeing with …

what might happen.

Is it good or bad?

It's good. I don't like people who say "amen" to everything.

Does the Popular Front mean anything to you?

All these questions!

What's so funny?

They're awful. I don't want to answer you.

Do you want children?

Yes. Later. Not now.

Why later? Why not now?

Because now I'd like to live,

be independent, do as much as I can on my own.

So children are out.

Do you know what birth control is?

More or less.

It's a big topic now.

What is it, in practical terms?

Come on. Tell me.

You're making me uncomfortable. I won't answer.

I know what it is …

but it's a pain —

I'm polling French women.

You're a typical French woman.

Yes, of course.

Well, birth control is —

Do you know practical ways not to have kids?

There are lots. I'd feel strange naming any.

Just name one or two.

Pills, for example, not to use a more specific term.

Or else the diaphragm.

Aren't there other things besides pills?

I just said a diaphragm.

Do you fall in love often?

Certainly not.

Don't you like being in love?

Sure I do. But you don't go around trying to fall in love.

You fall in love. You don't know why.

And when you do, it's great.

It doesn't happen every other week.

But when you do —

Can you tell me where there are wars going on now?

If I thought about it, but I don't care.

You don't know where there are wars going on?

No, I don't.

How about it?

She'll be here in 15 minutes.

If she signs to play the Olympia, I'll kill her.

You're crazy.

No, I'll kill her. It's disgusting.

Then we'll talk about something else.

You work it out with Madeleine.

Still thinking about it?

No, I'm thinking about my dad.

It's the mashed potatoes.

Why?

Once, with my dad, we were all eating mashed potatoes.

All of a sudden, Dad stopped eating

and said, "I've got it!"

My sister said, "Got what?"

Dad had discovered why the earth revolved around the sun.

Sure, Galileo was the first to discover that.

But Dad, all of a sudden, just like that,

rediscovered why the earth revolved around the sun.

Just like Galileo must have done.

So he stopped eating his potatoes and said, "I've got it!"

That's great.

That's just what I said to him.

And I got the potatoes right in the face.

You know I saw that guy from Saturday again.

What guy?

That guy we went to the country with.

I didn't know you did.

Didn't Madeleine tell you we'd gone to the country?

You don't remember. You were angry Monday.

I was angry about the book.

I thought it was about that.

What?

Nothing. It'll make you feel bad.

What? Tell me.

Nothing.

The guy wanted to do it again this weekend.

He saw you with me and wanted to bring his wife.

Poor Paul.

Why?

We're not your type of girl. You'll always be unhappy.

Why the hell should you care?

Why the hell should you care?

I repeat: Why the hell should you care?

I just said it, like that.

Anyway, I don't care. Madeleine's pregnant.

She's putting you on. I know her.

I doubt you know her that well.

She takes her temperature on the sly.

She doesn't sleep with you just any time.

- We started without you. - You okay?

I'm all out of breath.

I've been running.

You don't look it.

Here, feel.

Don't mind me.

Come on, Elizabeth. He has a right to.

I met Sylvie at the studio.

She gave me an autographed copy of her record.

So I'm giving it to you.

Here.

Since you're not very modern —

I'd have preferred Bach. The Concerto in D.

Bach.

Mind if I wait until you're done?

That woman over there —

I think I know her.

Sure, the woman in the café who shot her husband.

She doesn't look anything like her.

How much have you got?

She's playing the hooker.

Not that much. I have to put money away.

I'd like to see the châteaux of the Loire.

How much can you give me exactly? 100, 200, 300?

That's too much.

How much have you got on you?

Not that much.

Why? You have different prices?

Depends what you want me to do.

Wait, I'll work it out.

Are you German?

I get taken for German sometimes.

But I'm not French.

And I hate the Germans.

Really? Why?

Because my parents died in Germany.

Where?

Ever hear of concentration camps?

Why do you have to say that?

It's always the same. I'm sick of it.

When will people see the difference?

I was 10 then. So were you, girlie.

You don't have to get familiar.

Maybe you were 10, but your father wasn't.

I dissociate myself

from my father.

Must be strange turning 50 tricks a day.

Not 50. Two or three is already a lot.

In poor neighborhoods, on weekends, as many as 110.

So who's to blame?

Laughing to yourself?

Laughing to myself makes me laugh.

She looks like Brigitte Bardot.

I marked the page.

It doesn't work because you're too slow.

The stage direction is "fast." Vauthier wrote it.

"I love all that's false, dishonest, fraudulent, devious,

whatever gives caresses, gives pleasure and deadens.

I love what's false, false."

The delivery should be faster.

Same goes for the accident, when you say —

When you run over the guy?

That's no good either. The rhythm is wrong.

The stage direction is "convulsively."

"He ran out in front of my car."

"You run over him or not?" "A sorry accident."

Then what do I say? "One less fool."

Stage direction, "fast."

"He should've been careful.

When you lose a war, play up to the victors."

Same with the visit to the housing projects.

It says "with furious enthusiasm."

"A memory of prodigious innovation will remain."

It's not called The Prodigies for nothing.

And she, Gilly, "ardently."

"… a vast region, built up by hand,

with nothing but repetition, the same little box …"

I think now that you've performed it,

you should forget it completely.

Act as if you're reading it for the first time.

Forget you've rehearsed it. Read it out any old way.

I'll give it a try.

"It was constructed. It was perverse.

There was no one.

Man had withdrawn, leaving traces of his deeds.

There was nothing, nothing at all.

We were lost, happy to desire nothing again."

This way, sir.

If I feel like it.

Have change for a hundred?

- No, sir. - Me neither.

What are you doing? Sit here.

Okay, okay!

I have to pee.

Oh, it's subtitled.

We get duped when it's dubbed.

Beat it, asshole!

DOWN WITH THE REPUBLIC OF COWARDS

Stop clowning around, Paul.

Make up your mind.

You dummy, I love you.

- What'd she say? - I dunno.

Cut out the necking in front!

Can it, Trotskyite!

Shit!

It's the wrong format! - So what?

No, I'm going to complain.

The projection room?

Up there.

"The aperture must be for a 1.65 or 1.75 aspect ratio,

as decided during the film's shooting.

The 1.85 format is a limit

that should not be exceeded,

as per the international recommendation of the ISO."

"I realize we can control our ideas, which are nothing,

but not our emotions, which are everything."

Fill me in.

It's about a man and a woman in a foreign city who —

Let's go. This is stupid.

I want to see it.

Let's go. Eroticism makes me sick.

Speak for yourself.

Let's split.

- You wanna stay? - Yeah, I'm staying.

We went to the movies often.

The screen would light up, and we'd feel a thrill.

But Madeleine and I

were usually disappointed.

But Madeleine and I

were usually disappointed.

The images were dated and jumpy.

Marilyn Monroe had aged badly.

We felt sad.

It wasn't the movie of our dreams.

It wasn't that total film we carried inside ourselves.

That film we would have liked to make,

or, more secretly, no doubt,

the film we wanted to live.

Well?

Why is it so hard for you to talk?

The state prevents workers from going to college.

Really? Why?

It's afraid, so it keeps them bogged down.

Bogged down?

Yes, in financial problems.

It's hard to say what you want if you're not used to it.

What did you want to tell me on the rue de Vaugirard?

Why are you in love with Paul and not me?

I'm not in love with Paul. Madeleine is.

Yeah, sure. Why?

I don't like to talk about it.

Why not?

Because. It's none of your business.

Don't you like to go out with guys?

Sure. It depends on the guy.

Going out with anyone now?

None of your business.

Where would you take me tonight?

To the movies.

- You take girls to the movies? - Once in a while.

What kind of girls do you like?

Girls who are

a little different from you.

What's the guy you're seeing like?

I'm not seeing anyone in particular.

- So you sleep around? - I don't sleep around.

That's what you just said.

I certainly did not say that.

I said that I wasn't seeing anyone in particular.

"Going out" doesn't mean "going to bed."

Do you have any opinions on democracy?

Not particularly.

Are you —

Am I?

Are you interested in what goes on around you?

Sure. But it depends.

Politics don't interest me, but there are things that do.

Such as?

I don't know.

Nothing comes to mind, but lots of things.

Such as?

I don't know. It depends.

I read the papers. If an article interests me, I read it.

But others I skip.

You hate what bores you.

That's right.

Why won't you talk about yourself?

I don't see any point in it. It's none of your business.

I don't see why I should talk about you — I mean me.

I'm no concern of yours.

Ever go to a hooker?

Sometimes.

When you can't find a date?

It's not because I can't find a date.

I dunno. I like hookers in a way, for lots of reasons.

- What do they cost? - I never pay.

I don't think I can go out with you.

You prefer Paul?

But I don't go out with Paul.

You gave him a funny look the other day. You're in love with him.

Stop harping on that. I said I'm not.

In love with anybody now?

No. Why?

No kidding?

Do I have a better figure than Madeleine?

No, I prefer Madeleine physically.

Madeleine told me she showed you her breasts.

I don't remember.

That's not true.

Yes, it is.

Did she show them to Paul?

You'd rather talk about Paul?

I said no. Change the subject.

You don't like dating guys?

Sure. It depends on the guy.

What kind of guys interest you?

No particular kind. I can tell right away.

Johnny Hallyday?

De Gaulle? - Not him either.

Who then?

American movie stars?

Before Paul introduced us,

I think I saw you once in a bar in Montparnasse.

Maybe. I go to bars in Montparnasse a lot.

What do you do there?

I have lots of friends there. I talk, play pinball.

Don't you like talking about yourself?

Why not?

Because it's none of your business.

But it's your business.

Yes, mine, but not yours.

So why don't you talk about yourself?

Because it's none of your business.

I want to know what you think because I love you.

Maybe it's not mutual, so you're being selfish.

Do you ever sleep with guys?

No. Why?

Never?

None of your business.

You never had sex?

None of your business.

What's that paper?

It's for the cell meeting tonight.

- What's it about? - The revolution.

Why are some workers called "skilled laborers"

when civil servants or actors are not?

I explain it.

Skilled laborers come in categories.

Three of them. I'm part of the third.

I'm capable of executing a complete revolution.

A complete revolution?

For example: "You take a complex piece,

a complex mechanical part.

You're given the raw material and the blueprint,

which shows you the piece in the finished product.

There's no time to lose. There's a tight deadline.

It takes extraordinary precision

in movement and thought alike.

You have to judge at a glance how the work is to be done,

including each successive step.

You picture it all in your mind,

even before you set to work.

You pick up the part,

already knowing the steps required to finish it."

"While working, your mind functions, since you already know the outcome.

You've chosen your tools and planned all the phases.

That's what's called a revolution, no play on words intended.

But it embodies the revolutionary spirit."

Yes, that's it.

THIS FILM COULD BE CALLED

THE CHILDREN OF MARX AND COCA-COLA

UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU WILL

Got a light?

My matches!

Silence!

Kiss the kids for me.

My matches.

Let this poor Christ by.

Come on.

I want to see what he's up to.

He just poured gasoline over himself and lit a match.

It can't be! He would have screamed. I didn't hear him.

You always make things up.

He taped his mouth so as not to scream.

Why outside the American Hospital?

He left a note. See for yourself, if you don't believe me.

Well?

What did it say? - "Peace in Vietnam." He's dead.

Damn!

If you kill a man, you're a murderer.

If you kill millions of men, you're a conqueror.

If you kill them all, you're God.

I don't believe in God.

We'll see.

- You love Madeleine? - Let's not start that again.

It's "First Tell Me Your Name."

First tell me your name

I'll tell you mine

Let's go far away from here

We'll talk further on

I don't want anyone to know

That I met you

I don't want anyone to say

That you kissed me

What are you doing there? Get out of here.

Be careful with your P's.

I can't hear my voice clearly. Too much echo.

Listen, Madeleine, follow the beat.

All right. Last take.

But I'm tired. I'm getting fed up.

Not bad, Madeleine, not bad. It was so-so.

Like it?

Was it okay?

Can we hear it?

You can stop it.

Let's redo it tomorrow.

I don't like my voice here. - Whatever you say.

Tomorrow, then. At 3:00 p.m.

At 3:00.

Fine.

Be good.

There's a radio guy outside.

Swell.

Madeleine Zimmer?

You were recording? Did it go well?

Very well. You from the radio? Let me see my assistant.

Be right back?

- Get the car, Paul. - What car?

- Don't act dumb. - Very well, ma'am.

Where do I find a car?

You said you were a whiz kid. So prove it.

Oh, shut up!

I'll go make a call.

And on this second single —

The second single is "First Tell Me Your Name."

Your favorite singers?

The Beatles, and in classical music, Bach.

Bach is certainly very classical, but nothing like your songs.

They're not mutually exclusive.

- Think so? - I do.

Your distinguishing marks?

Well, I hardly ever wear makeup.

As for clothes, you see how I'm dressed.

Flat shoes and a skirt.

- The young look. You like that? - I love it.

I noticed huge billboards along American highways

saying, "Join the Pepsi Generation."

Have you joined? - I love Pepsi-Cola.

- Is that so? - Yes, it is.

- See you for the third single? - Sure.

Hurry or we'll be late.

What about the car?

- What car? - The car.

- You stole one? - I doubt that.

You're not Pierrot le Fou. He stole cars for his women.

What? I called the War Ministry.

"This is General Doinel. Where the hell's my car?

I've been waiting half an hour!"

"Yes, sir."

It might not work.

Robert and I tried it on the Interior Ministry.

Here it comes.

Long live the French army!

From January to March,

I continued the opinion polls.

Do vacuum cleaners sell? Do you like cheese in tubes?

Do you read a lot?

What's a cadre? Do you like poetry?

Winter sports? Short skirts?

How do you react to an accident?

If your lover left you for a black, would you mind?

Do you know about the famine in India?

Do you know what a Communist is?

Do you use birth control pills

or a thing in your vagina?

Where do you live?

What's your salary?

Why are society women more frigid than factory girls?

Did you know there's an Iraqi-Kurd war on?

Gradually, over these three months,

I came to realize that these questions

did not reflect but deformed the collective mentality.

My lack of objectivity, even when unconscious,

tended to provoke

a predictable lack of sincerity in those I was polling.

Unawares, I was deceiving them and being deceived by them.

Why?

Probably because polls and surveys quickly veer from their true goal,

the observation of behavior,

and instead insidiously go

for value judgments.

I discovered that the questions I would ask any French person

expressed an ideology

that reflects not present mores but those of the past.

So I had to be on my guard.

I used some random notions as guidelines:

"A philosopher posits his conscience against opinion."

"To have a conscience is to be open to the world."

"To be faithful is to act as if time didn't exist."

"Wisdom would be to see life, truly see it.

That would be wisdom."

What happened?

His mother left him some money,

and he bought an apartment.

At first we didn't believe it,

but when Elizabeth and Madeleine visited it,

they had to believe him.

It was in a high-rise going up in a wealthy suburb.

They discussed the layout of the rooms:

kitchen, dining room and stuff.

I think they even had fights.

Elizabeth told me

because Madeleine wanted her to move in

and Paul was against it.

I think he wanted to take some photos,

and he probably backed up too far and fell.

It couldn't have been suicide.

A stupid accident.

Next.

Your turn.

Are you Madeleine Zimmer?

What happened?

It's just as Catherine said. It happened like that.

Your friend Elizabeth Choquet said you were pregnant.

What will you do?

I don't know.

I'm not sure.

Elizabeth suggested using a curtain rod.

I'm not sure.

I'm not sure.