All language subtitles for A Man Escaped 1956 Criterion Collection BD-Rip 720p-WiKi

The following is a true story.

I present it as it happened,
without adornment.

AT THIS SITE

UNDER GERMAN OCCUPATION,

10,000 MEN SUFFERED,

VICTIMS OF THE NAZIS.

7,000 PASSED AWAY.

A MAN ESCAPED

OR

THE WIND BLOWS WHERE IT WISHES

Based on the Narrative by

Script and Dialogue by

Cinematography by

Thank you, Officers.

Stay here.

Damned dog!

We forbid you to make
another escape attempt!

Let's go!

This will teach you to stay
nice and quiet for a few days!

I could feel
I was being watched.

I didn't dare budge.

Nothing broken, but I probably
wasn't a pretty sight.

I wiped myself off as best I could.

The charges against me were so severe
and I'd aggravated them so clearly.

Why hadn't they shot me?

While waiting in the courtyard,
I'd gotten used to the idea of death.

I would have preferred
an immediate execution.

The tapping of my neighbor
was of no help.

I even lost courage
for a moment and cried.

I slept so deeply that the guards
had to wake me at daybreak.

Get up.

Get up!

Instinctively, I pretended
not to be able to get up

and made a show
of tremendous effort just to sit up.

Did I owe my life
to this meager deception?

That's enough.

They beat me back with feet and fists
and I found myself alone.

My cell was hardly nine feet by six feet.

The furnishings were rudimentary.

A wood frame supporting
the mattress and two blankets.

In a recess near the door
was a slop pail.

Finally, fixed to the wall
was a stone shelf.

I managed to climb onto this shelf
to reach the window.

In the small courtyard
that extended before me

three comfortably dressed
and clean shaven men were walking

apparently without supervision.

Pay close attention.
I'll be back.

- Your name?
- Fontaine.

I'm Terry.

Any way to send word out?

I have a way.

Nonetheless,
I knew I had to be wary.

Catch.

Now that a stranger
had told me "I have a way,"

everything had changed for me.

Out.

Out! Come!

In spite of my handcuffs,
I was able to wash up

and clean my wounds.

Out!

Soon, I'd managed to communicate
with my neighbor.

A young worker at a bronze foundry,

he had killed a German soldier
during a quarrel.

He was to be executed any day.
He was 19.

With the string they'd given me
and my handkerchief,

I fashioned a kind of a sack.

Tomorrow give me your letters.

May 2nd, Dear Mother,
I'm in prison...

To reassure my family
and give them a hope I did not possess.

Yes, and especially to warn my superiors

that the post transmitter
I was in charge of

was aiding the Germans
as they'd cracked the code.

I was determined to run the risk.

And what a risk.

Trusting my letters to a stranger

could mean the end for me
as well as the recipients.

We could also be seen in the courtyard
or interrupted at any moment.

Got a safety pin?

A safety pin?

Wait.

He walked off toward the building
that housed the women.

This is from them.

On the paper, written in a feminine hand,
was the word "courage."

There was also a safety pin.

My neighbor had taught me the method.

But it didn't work right away
and I hardly believed it would.

PRESS, PULL OUT,
KEYHOLE, MECHANISM

I could finally relax
my stiff arms and wrists.

I felt a sudden sense of victory.

As a special exception,

the head guard allowed Terry
to see his daughter on certain days.

I wasn't aware of it until much later.

I was far from suspecting the danger
to himself and to her.

When she returned home, the letters were
sealed, stamped and dropped in the box.

Your letters went out yesterday.
They should have arrived by now.

Thank you.

You've done your duty.
That will help you hold out.

Look.

Be careful.

Well, Lieutenant Fontaine.

Have you come to terms
with your defeat?

I'll be frank. In your place,
I would've jumped out of the car myself.

But now you'll give me your word
that you won't try to escape again.

I give you my word.

Who were we kidding?

He certainly didn't believe me.

As for myself, I was determined
to escape at the first opportunity.

Did he hope to see a starving man
throw himself onto his meager scraps?

My first meal in four days.

My visits to the window
grew longer and longer.

I could see the courtyard,
the walls and the infirmary yard.

I unconsciously prepared myself.

I knew they conducted executions
within the prison compound.

A crazy thought crossed my mind.

He was there.

I stayed up into the night teaching him
the Bataillonaire's march he'd asked for.

What does it matter? Who cares?
All young guys who never had much luck.

It was the only help
I could give him.

The next day
the head guard came for me.

Jacket.

Towel.

I had left the ground floor for good.
I was now in cell 107 on the top floor.

Everyone out!

Everyone out!

Nobody to my right.
The cell was empty.

To my left, a neighbor
who hadn't replied.

I tried to read on their faces
what kind of men they might be.

I also studied the walls.

Get in yesterday?

I was downstairs for 15 days...

or 15 years!

You get used to it.

Yes, I assure you.

The name's Hbrard.

No talking!

I'm Fontaine.

Time to empty our slop pails
and run a little water over our faces,

then back to our cells for the entire day.

With nothing to do, no news
and in terrible solitude,

we were 100 unfortunates
awaiting our fate.

I had no illusions about my own.

If I could only escape, run away.

It was chance or idleness
that gave me my first break.

I often sat across from my door

with nothing better to do
than let my gaze wander.

It was made of two panels
of six oak boards

held within a frame
of the same thickness.

In the gap between two boards,
I saw that the joining wood was not oak,

but wood of another color,
beech or poplar.

There would surely be a way
to take the door apart.

To get an iron spoon...

tin or aluminum
being too soft or too brittle...

I had to wait through
several meals.

I made a kind of chisel from it.

No, the boards weren't joined
by mortise and tenon joints

carved into the oak itself,

but by strips of soft wood
my tool could easily tackle.

I estimated that it would take four
or five days to make it through a strip

by cutting or chipping the wood.

But every evening at the same time,
I also had to get some air.

Progress was slow
due to my fear of making noise

and the constant threat
of being taken by surprise.

Moreover, I had to keep
brushing under the doorway

with a bit of straw
torn from the cell broom.

Fontaine, are you there?

Is that you, Terry?

We meet again.
How I've missed you.

I'm leaving.

Are they releasing you?

They're taking me away,
lord knows where.

How he could evade surveillance
and come to my door, I'd never know.

My neighbor downstairs?

Executed day before yesterday.

Good-bye.

Terry's departure and the death
of a comrade I had never seen

left me in distress.

Nevertheless, I carried on with my work.
It prevented me from thinking.

The door just had to open.
I had no plans for afterwards.

A new arrival, the Pastor de Leyris

would earn my trust,
fulfill my need for companionship.

They arrested me yesterday right
at the pulpit. No time to take a thing.

Nothing?

I always wanted time alone
with my Bible someday, for meditation.

I don't have a Bible,
but I've got a pencil.

That's huge.

You need to keep busy.
Write, keep your mind sharp.

I keep myself busy.

Three boards should make
a big enough opening.

Across from me in 108,
someone kept lookout,

which made my work much easier.

On the other hand,
my neighbor's silence troubled me.

We can speak openly.
They're all downstairs on the other side.

Are you afraid?

I knew he was there.
I was sure of it.

My neighbor worried me so much
I no longer dared touch my door.

I settled for plugging the holes
with paper I blackened on the ground.

He threw us a distraught gaze.

And that night at the window, Blanchet...
that was his name...

For some dollars, Mr. Blanchet?
Did they belong to you?

No, to a Jewish woman.
I'd never seen her before.

She gave them to me
the day she was captured.

And how did they find out?

From a letter in a bag of laundry.

They'll release you.

No.

- What can I do for you?
- Nothing.

There's always something.

If you want to help me, stop carving.
You'll get the whole floor punished.

After three weeks of effort
making as little noise as possible,

I'd managed to separate
three boards along the sides.

But they were held in the frame
at the top and the bottom

by joints which bent
the handle of my spoon.

To break apart the edge of the frame,
I'd need to find another spoon.

Only then would I have
enough leverage.

The Bible.

I'm in luck.

A miracle!

Everything has changed
since yesterday.

Quiet! No talking!

I'm in luck myself.

The frame broke,
but over a bigger area than I'd expected.

I was able to put the pieces
back in place and make them stick.

Why bother?

To fight. To fight the walls,
to fight myself, to fight the door.

You, too, Mr. Blanchet,
should fight and hope.

Hope for what?

To go home, to be free.

Free?

- Somebody waiting for you?
- Nobody.

A friend?

I don't have friends.

Fight anyway.
Fight for everyone here.

Plus, it helps.
If you only look out for yourself...

What else are you doing?

I think of you, Mr. Blanchet,
and it gives me courage.

For me, real courage
would be to kill me.

I tried. I made a noose with my laces.
The nail broke.

And then?

I heard tapping on the wall.

That was me when I arrived.
Why didn't you respond?

Why?

I was afraid they would open
or close my door forcefully.

Fortunately,
it was up to me to handle it.

Okay?

Okay.

His wife turned him in.
Betrayed him.

These things happen...

In life.

That's horrible.

She doesn't stand much of a chance.

He didn't kill her?

He nearly did.

When he got here,
we thought he'd go mad.

And now he's just another man.

His face shows neither hatred
nor even suffering anymore.

He's called Orsini.

Talking about me, Pastor?

I was saying you're
the bravest man alive.

A month of patient work
and the door was open.

It took a lot of time to put it
back in place and camouflage it.

Inside the building,
no patrols, no guards.

Getting into the hallway
wasn't that big of a deal.

But I also had a goal.

NO EATING, NO EXIT

What's that?

It's me, cell 107.

Impossible.

Hold out. If I have to,
I'll come back tomorrow.

His surprise pleased me.

That night I went to sleep
less miserable.

That was you in the hallway.
Don't deny it.

It was me.

You're leaving.
How will you do it?

I don't have the slightest idea.

The head guard and the sergeant
slept on the second floor.

The corporal slept on the ground floor
near the door to which he had the key.

This door remained locked
throughout the night.

I visualized every possibility
and even what was impossible.

I devised a thousand plans,
but acted on none.

Read and pray.
God will save you.

He'll save us
if we give him the chance.

You never pray?

Sometimes.

When things get bad?

Yes.

- That's easy.
- Too easy.

It would be too easy
if God saw to everything.

Fontaine, you're the only one
even thinking of escape.

The only one because it's impossible.

Take me.

You won't get through.

I have to. In military terms,
it's called reconnaissance.

Be careful.

If I'm not in the hallway by 10:00...

At 10:00 I was under the skylight.

I was certain of disaster.

The exit route from the building
and how to dismantle your door.

Read it carefully and tear it up.

You can count on me,
but I'm not the "bravest man alive."

You're able to forgive and forget.
That's something.

I think about it,
but it's like it happened to someone else.

Don't worry. Everything will go well.

40 feet of rope strong enough
to hold a man is what I needed.

The netting from the bed frame supplied
about 120 feet of flexible and sturdy wire.

I made my first segment of rope
with materials from my pillow.

The little horsehair it contained
went into the mattress.

I folded the fabric
I obtained in quarters

turning the edges inward
to prevent fraying.

I twisted it tightly.

By wrapping a wire
in the opposite direction

I was able to maintain the tension.

Your door?

I'll try again.

Try, Orsini. Try again.

Tomorrow I'll tell you if we should
split up or stick together.

What's wrong?

Too long, too complicated.

All of it.

But it's the only way.

There's another way.

Tell me.

During the walk
with two ropes and two hooks.

- What hooks?
- He didn't say.

- And the guards in the walkway?
- He waits until they've gone past.

Where does he wait?

On the roof of the bathroom.
He climbs the drainpipe and stays hidden.

By day, he'll be seen from the building.

His plan isn't good.

The next day, I couldn't talk to Orsini.
They took him in for interrogation.

The interrogation?

They put you at ease. They threaten you.
You know the system.

Orsini is happy.

- You okay?
- Fine.

You need to keep cool.

- You quitting?
- They'll set me free.

- You believe them?
- Yes.

You're right.

No talking!

It's always the same.
Can't you keep your mouth shut?

Don't shoot.

Orsini.

I was so closely watched
for eight days, we lost contact.

What was he doing?
I couldn't make sense of it.

What's the matter?

Where's Orsini?

My God, let him succeed.

No talking!

Will they shoot me?

Hang in there, Orsini.
Surely not.

My rope broke on the second wall.

You'll need hooks, Fontaine.

What hooks? How? With what?

The lantern frame.

Careful.

Don't blame yourself.
You couldn't have stopped him.

He couldn't wait any longer.

Why not? Out of despair?

Too much hope for a new life.

A new life?

Perhaps that's what Christ meant.

"Unless one is born again..."

I copied out the passage for you.

These are his words to Nicodemus.

"Nicodemus said unto him,
'How can a man be born when he is old?

Can he enter a second time
into his mother's womb and be born?

Jesus answered, 'Do not marvel that
I said to you, You must be born again.

The wind blows where it wishes,
and you hear the sound of it,

but cannot tell where it comes from
and where it goes.'"

- You hear me?
- I'm listening.

Fire!

- It was him.
- Are you sure?

Sure?

Can you be sure of anything here?

I emptied everything into the drain.

The terrace of our building
as well as the compound walls

must have the same ledge.

I had to wait.
I was close to my goal,

and the smallest error
could prove fatal.

It’s there.

I see.

I knew it was dangerous to descend into
the walkway and climb the second wall.

My strength had diminished.

I run a line between the two walls
and I cross over like a monkey

hanging by my hands and feet.

Just for that, you need two hooks,
three in total. You have them?

I will have them.

Orsini had to blow it
so you could succeed.

That's amazing.

I'm not telling you anything new.

Yes. What's amazing
is that you're the one saying it.

I made the third hook
with the two shortest bars.

It was every bit as sturdy
and functional as the others.

Still using the wire,
I fashioned three loops

which I attached
to the foot of each hook.

My tests showed that strong leverage
would not damage the hooks or the loops.

Everyone to the courtyard!

Everyone to the courtyard!

I just saw three of our comrades executed
for smuggling letters out.

I've been instructed to tell you that whoever
sends letters will face the same fate.

Those who have a pencil
may turn it in tonight at mealtime.

Starting tomorrow,
we will search the cells

and whoever is found
in possession of a pencil

will immediately
be put against the wall and shot.

Is that understood?

Back, march!

You turning yours in?

It's better that way.

No talking!

Pencil?

No pencil.

What foolishness.

And only in order not to give in.

The next day, the thought
of a search paralyzed me.

Package.

A package.

Is this what saved me?
Perhaps.

And what a resource!

Too bad. It had to be done.

I made braids just like I'd seen
my mother make with my sister's hair.

Nothing was spared
except for one handkerchief.

With the string,
I made the connections.

I would throw this rope from
the compound wall to the exterior wall.

It had to be supple and consistent.

The wire wasn't suitable.

Besides, I had exhausted my supply.

With the blanket Blanchet gave me,
I had enough to finish the other rope.

We only went out now
in small groups of about 15.

The prison was filling up.

It wasn't uncommon
to see two prisoners per cell.

Others appeared
and disappeared like ghosts.

I even saw one of them
dressed for a wedding.

If Fontaine can go, now's the time.

His case isn't good.

- He's a snitch.
- What if he's right?

Fontaine talked too much.
He's reckless.

Not too tough, Father?

They put me in with the pastor.

He's a good companion.

You must warn him.

What's going to happen will happen.
There's nothing we can do.

He can.

That's what he says.

Nobody believes it anymore.
You're drawing it out.

Drawing it out?

You're thinking too much.
You keep fiddling.

Me?

Do you really need a second?

I'm waiting for an answer.

Who?

Across the way, 110.
He stands up to them. He's got guts.

Your plan is a fairy tale.

After three months,
you're not as strong.

You're stronger.
You adapt and adjust.

It's a blessing.

Or a trap.

Think you can really make it?

I'm ready.

Then don't wait too long.

You would follow me.

If I could change my body.

We'll meet again.

Maybe in another life.

In this one.
You have to believe it.

Believe in your hooks and ropes,
and in yourself. You have doubts.

The hard part is to set out.

Come.

The investigation of your case
has been concluded, Lt. Fontaine.

The charges of espionage and planning
a bomb attack are punishable by death.

Accordingly, you will be
executed by firing squad.

Let's go.

Were they taking me back to the prison?

It was a painful journey.

Would I return to the same cell?

I broke into nervous laughter
that relieved me.

Then, a bit later, I once again feared
that all my efforts would be for nothing.

Dressed half as French soldier,
half as German soldier,

he was disgustingly filthy.

He seemed barely 16.

Are you German?

French?

What's your name?

Jost. Franois Jost.

Was he a stool pigeon?

Did they think I'd talk,
shaken up by my verdict?

Give me your hand, Jost.

There's not much space.

They caught me, brought me back
and convicted me of desertion.

You believe me?

Yes.

I believed him, but at the same time
I felt a horrible uneasiness.

It was for France.
Why else would I sign up?

France is your khaki pants and leggings.
That's all that's left of it.

How could I know?

You should have known.

I hadn't finished my sentence
and they sent me to the rail road.

I stopped the French passengers
from getting on the railway carriages.

Which ones?

The ones reserved for their troops.
Carriage guard.

That's how I arrived three days ago.

Stand in front of the door.
When it opens, ask for an extra mattress.

His request was granted
and he even received a blanket.

The two of you were drunk?

We did nothing wrong.
We tried out my gun and shot in the air.

It wasn't only in the air.

Was the cop French?

Yes.

You saw him fall down?

I don't know. We took off running.
Exactly what we shouldn't have done.

Fifteen minutes later,
we were in a cell at St. Paul.

They came looking for me.

- Why?
- To change prison.

What about you?

It's time to be quiet now.

You can finish it.

Go to bed and sleep.

The timing of his arrival with the reading
of my sentence struck me.

There was no time to lose.
I'd have to make a choice.

Either bring Jost with me
or do away with him.

In that case, my heaviest hook
would be an effective weapon.

But would I have the courage
to kill this kid in cold blood?

Wash up.

Get going. Don't wait any longer.

Not alone anymore?

Watch out, Fontaine.

You don't talk?

I'm not in the habit.

I know why you're here.

Say it.

You're here because
you blew up a bridge.

I swear...

I would've loved that job.

That job?

But, Jost, when you blow up a bridge,
they're well guarded,

you sometimes pay with your life.

You can't be a chicken or fainthearted.

I'm no chicken or fainthearted.

You can't serve two masters.

You chose to wear this uniform.

I didn't choose a thing.

Does my jacket bother you?

No point.
That won't change a thing.

You are what you are.

What am I?

Stay in your filth.
Hang onto your lice.

I bet you're covered in them.

Maybe a few.

Really?

You just had to come here.

They're all gone.

What's the matter?

Nothing.

You think they'll hold me
for a long time?

You're asking me?

A very long time.

Weeks, months,

a year, two years maybe.

Locked up in here?

Or only a few days.

That depends on
how useful you are to them.

Useful?

Watch out, Jost.

The war will end someday
and they'll lose it.

- They won't lose the war.
- They will, and they'll leave.

They aren't much protection.
They'll leave you behind in your country,

with nobody to defend you.

And there will be no pity.

What should I fear at my age?

No pity for your age.

Think it over.

Think what over?

It's too late anyway.

Too late?

- Do you believe in luck?
- I used to. It didn't work out.

Maybe you're the one who blew it.

Why did you leave home?

Why not? Something to do.

What did your father say?

He didn't give a damn.

- And your mother?
- She followed me to the station.

I shook her off
and managed to take the train.

She must really have loved you.

More than my brothers,
even more than my sister.

- You've got a sister?
- She was little, but pretty, beautiful.

My mother was pretty too.

Don't you want to see them again?

Yes, but I don't see how.

What are you writing?

Come see.

It's our pencil.
It's yours too if you need it.

Why hide it?

It's forbidden.
If they find it, they shoot us.

Shot for a pencil?

The evening meal was served
without me telling Jost any more.

The night was dark.

The following night
would be darker still.

It had to be tomorrow.

But would I have to kill him?

Wake up, Jost.

My last wishes if I fail.
If you would please...

I promise.

My God.

I wrote down all I've done
and what I still have to do to escape.

I'd like it to be known.

Pray for me, Father.

You too.

Good-bye.

I would never have that chance.

What if you did?

For example,
on the way to interrogation.

What would you do?

I'd make use of it and escape.

You think so?

Yes.

Sometimes it's easier with two.

We help each other out.

It's not only on the way
to interrogation.

What do you mean?

I mean if you agree to help me,

we might be able...

To get out of here?

Are you out of your mind?

Have you seen those walls?

And those bars?

Come on, Fontaine.
Think about it.

You gonna laugh?

I don't laugh.

I've thought it all through,
calculated everything.

From getting out of the building
to crossing over the walkway.

There are still unforeseen factors.
We might have surprises.

I say "we" because now...

And believe me, Jost,
all the odds are in my favor.

I'm absolutely sure
of the tools I've made,

sure of myself,
sure of my luck and yours.

You won't regret following me.

Once we're out,
I'll take care of you.

I'll help you make the most
of your freedom, I swear.

Quite a job you've done.

It's tempting.

Tempting?

Jost, it's not up to you now.
You must understand.

I'm free to say yes or no.

Now you know everything.

I know everything?

Enough.

I warn you not to shout,
not to sound the alarm.

If you report me,
or if we're caught because of you...

Who do you take me for, Fontaine?

Is that yes?

Yes.

I emptied my mattress into Jost's

and cut the cloth
following the markings.

In less than two hours,
the rope was ready and tested,

the cell was organized and swept.

You'll tap?

I will.

Good-bye, my friend.

First heel,

then toe.

We had made four bundles.

One with our shoes tied together,

another with our jackets,

a third with the big rope
and its hooks

and the fourth with the softer rope
for the walkway.

The gravel crunched under our feet.
We had to stop.

It took us more than 20 minutes

to reach the end of the terrace
over the small courtyard.

What was that creaking
we heard at regular intervals?

I couldn't imagine what it was.

He was armed with a tommy gun.

I could make out the grenades
hanging from his belt

and the bayonet
sticking out of its sheath.

The bells struck midnight.

Then 1:00 a.m.

Their movements were identical.

They went back and forth along the walls

rarely reaching the corner,
never passing it.

By descending on the other side,

I could hide in the corner
and wait for the right moment.

This man had to disappear.

Your turn. Go down.

I let go of the iron hook.
It didn't seem a sure weapon.

I had to act but couldn't.

With both hands I restrained
the beating of my heart.

Was he sitting down?

Was he lighting a cigarette?

He wasn't coming any closer to me.

He was right there, very close,
about a meter away from me.

He made a half-turn.

He'd forgotten our jackets
and shoes on the roof,

but I didn't say a thing.

Alone, I might have remained there.

All I knew about the guard system

is that there was a sentry booth
positioned at each corner.

Was it occupied or not?

It wasn't.

He's alone.

Cut the electrical wire.

How?

Quickly.

The hook.

Jost trembled.
Perhaps I did as well.

I hesitated.

The bells struck 4:00.

Time passed.
Our chances got slimmer.

Jost.

If only my mother could see me.