Original subtitles

Chapter 1: "The Two Guitars"

I think I was overconfident. Lyon, 1960

I saw too big.

- I'm losing tons of money. - Really?

It's simple, I'm ruined. - What are you talking about?

Sometimes I think I should quit.

I've never heard you talk like this.

We'll see.

It'll be fine. I'm sure of it.

See you, Sis.

- I'll call you back. - All right.

"I am the eye and you, the light.

"Without light, the eye is night.

"I am the fish, and you, the river.

"Out of water, the fish cannot live.

"But plunged back into water, it thrives.

"If you and I are torn apart, this hour will be my last."

Wait friends, I'll bring you food and drink!

Come, Aïda, they started!

Misha.

Misha, what food will you give them?

You depleted our entire stock last week.

You invite every other customer!

They're friends, not customers.

And like us, they're artists, honey.

Come and dance.

You know what I always say:

Look at us there, look at us here!

Go on, Mama, dance!

Charles? Why are you here? Stop listening in!

Go on...

Two tireless gypsies

Strum on their guitars

Rekindling in the night

All my memories

Unaware that deep inside me

Runs a river of woe

Their fingers conjure up

My crazy youth

I want to laugh and sing

And drown my pain

To forget the past

That I lug around

Two guitars on my thoughts

Cast immense distress

Explaining the vanity

Of our existence

Manouch, where do we stand?

I have a few ideas, but I'm still hesitating.

Misha, these flyers are expensive.

- Are you sure about this? - Sure I'm sure.

"Publicity is important"!

- Manouch, what do you propose? - So...

"At Aznavourian's, taste the savor-ians!"

- We can do better. - Better!

"At Aznavourian's, the food's good."

- It needs to rhyme, dummy. - You're the dummy!

Not easy to rhyme with Aznavourian.

I may have an idea.

"You'll adore Chez Aznavour"!

Hello, you'll adore Chez Aznavour!

Come to our restaurant.

- Hello, Charles! - Hello!

PERMANENTLY CLOSED

- I warned you. - Come kids, we're leaving.

He doesn't even speak French!

What do we eat?

- I buy us food. - With what money?

Don't worry.

You sold your gold tooth?

We need to eat.

Think we'll manage, Mama?

God willing.

Children!

Come see our new café and our new home.

I know what you think.

I know.

It's true that it's small here.

But we won't stay long.

All right? And we're together!

If we stay together nothing can happen to us.

Stop. That's fine.

Monday at 9, Théâtre des Champs-Élysées.

Tell your parents?

Congrats.

Can anyone do an African accent?

Is it paid, sir?

- Who said that? - Me.

It could be paid. Can you do an African accent?

Yes, sure can do!

- See you Monday morning. - All right.

9 o'clock. Thank you.

There you are!

- You're playing Arthur? - That's me.

- Ready? - Yes.

There. Now break a leg!

- Break a leg? - For good luck.

First time on stage?

- Yes. - Follow me.

You're on.

Come... don't forget.

- Stand straight and speak loud. - All right.

Go on.

Chapter 2: "His Youth"

Now let's hear it for our next number,

Charles...

Trenet! A round of applause!

Yeah, right...

When can I do something besides imitating Trenet?

I can sing real songs too.

Such as?

The standards, love songs.

Cut it out. Love songs are for handsome men.

And your voice is scratchy. Stick to what you're good at.

The clientele comes to have fun.

- I know, but... - Stop pissing me off!

Love songs. What nonsense!

- Hello, Mélinée. - Hey, Charles.

Is Manouch here too? Waiting to beat you at chess.

We'll see. Mama, I found some bread and rutabagas.

Good timing. We'll have to share our dinner.

- And... - I know. We sleep on the floor.

There are a lot of them. French too.

- French? - Jews. Manouch will explain.

- Unbelievable! What is this? - Your sister!

Starting next week I'll be all over the metro.

I never realized how pretty you are.

- "Aznamour"? - They told me it's more glamorous.

I wasn't too pleased, but...

I can't complain, at least I don't have to strip.

I'm proud of you, really.

Gentlemen...

Here's my son.

This is Charles. Charles, the Rosenbaums.

- They're spending a few nights. - All right.

They were supposed to leave us alone, but...

all day, they've been rounding everyone up.

- With the help of the French police. - Really?

Nice move, Mr. Manouchian.

Thank you.

The others are Russian and Armenian.

They worked for the Germans for 6 months.

By force. They just deserted.

We found them some clothes.

Now we must help them vanish.

Like your bishop, Charles.

- So you'll get rid of the uniforms? - Yes.

And change neighborhoods?

- You'll ditch them someplace different? - Sure.

Look at this! You know high society.

Thanks to my poster.

They saw it in the metro and were interested.

So they came to see me on stage.

"Publicity is important".

- Hello, Aïda, welcome! - Hello.

Charles, meet Jean-Louis Marquet.

Come meet the "Club de la Chanson" team.

- Aïda speaks highly of you. - She's kind.

Our songwriters, Francis Blanche and Lawrence Reisner.

- Welcome. - Hi. You good, Aïda?

Pierre Saka, also a singer.

There, behind the scores, our president, Pierre Roche.

Good day!

Charles, it's a pleasure.

The pleasure is mine.

I'll have osso bucco and shortbread with raspberry sauce.

And for you?

I'm not very hungry.

Are you sure? Order something, Charles.

Just a coffee.

- Is that apartment yours? - Yes, well, my parents'.

But they never use it. They don't live in Paris.

So you sing and perform on stage?

A few cabaret numbers. I sell papers on the side.

- You and Aïda are brave! - We have no choice.

I accept whatever makes me money.

I understand...

Maybe you can help rehearse our singers.

I'd love that. I can rehearse too.

- People say my voice is raspy. - Raspy is interesting.

Lots of American jazz singers have voices like that.

I sing from my nose.

With a nose like yours, Charles...

Touché!

Attacked by a 20-year-old with less hair than my father.

Not bad! A sense of humor too!

That suits me fine.

Let's get serious now.

See the girls behind you?

Three brunettes. The prettiest is wearing a scarf.

Eagle eyes too. I like this.

Watch and admire.

Forgive my audacity.

Let me introduce ourselves. Charles Aznavour, Pierre Roche.

Parisian dandies at your service.

- Yes, and? - I'm doing a concert in a few days.

I'd be thrilled to invite you. I mean...

we'd be thrilled if you came.

And you'll see I'm not all talk!

- You're the greeter, so smile. - She's smiling!

Hello, Pierre.

- Hi, kids. - All good?

Not at all. We haven't heard from Saka.

- We think he got drafted. - Shit.

I'll have to perform alone. I can't fill my set.

Aïda, can you do an extra song?

Don't bother.

I can sing two or three songs for you.

Yes, why not?

You're sure, Pierre?

You go on between our sets.

Go behind the mic.

And now let's all greet

Pierre Roche and Charles Aznavour!

Why did she announce us together? What an idiot!

- Let's go, she already called us. - Together?

Like at the Club. Besides, I know the songs.

Fine, let's go.

With us now!

A club in Lille wants you to come sing.

Nothing great, you only get 50 francs...

It'll be hard to get to Lille.

Almost no trains.

50 francs... each?

For 50 francs each, we'll find a solution.

A dance club, semi striptease lounge.

Damned right we'll find a solution.

You'll need a set list with your own songs.

You can't just do remakes!

Perfect. We have the best songwriters in Paris.

Would you have anything for us?

We finished some songs.

But honestly,

we wanted to offer them to bigger names.

To singers already on tour.

Come on, guys.

- The Club de la Chanson is all about... - Forget it.

We'll do it ourselves.

It can't be that hard to write two verses and a refrain.

Look on the desk.

There are pens too.

I'm sick of their la-la-la-la's.

He was walking in the street la-la-la. He saw the sky la-la-la-la.

We need words instead.

I just had an idea.

Keep that up.

He was wearing a mole fedora...

A mole fedora?

I was in your neighborhood.

I saw a sign in a hat shop: "Mole Fedoras."

The guy explained they're made from moles.

With the war, even the rich have to scrape by.

A mole fedora. I like it a lot.

- Really? - Yes.

I'd like to rhyme it with "onomatopoeia".

To scat like a real jazzman.

Now you're talking!

Shall we try?

He wore a mole fedora

He spoke in onomatopoeia

He drank iced coffee

With straws!

It works!

It's really neat!

You've written before!

No.

- I don't believe you. - I swear.

The crazy thing is...

it doesn't seem that hard.

Ladies and gentlemen, I leave you to Miss Vivianne.

Did you see those two, the mother and daughter?

I'll go say hi, then you join us.

You talk to the mother. I'll take the daughter.

Which is the mother and which is the daughter?

Know what I suggest? I'll do my specialty.

Like that time at the Club...

I was staring at you from the stage.

- You light up the whole place. - Thank you.

- Use that line often? - Not at all.

May I?

Hello, ladies.

I was staring at you from the stage.

You light up the whole place.

I get it

And a liar too.

Only for big events.

And I'm the event? Should I be flattered?

No, I'm the big event.

That's for me to judge, if you don't mind.

So? What's the verdict?

So...

Clunky start, but witty.

What follows is on the table.

Perfect. What follows is where I excel.

You don't say?

So?

Nothing's going to follow?

Now I'll try to light up the stage.

Really?

You had her young! I thought you were sisters.

- Where are you going, son? - To Lille.

To do a concert.

- You know, I write songs now. - Songs?

That's great.

You know what's the best song of all time?

"Y'a d'la Joie."

- No one can do better. - You make me laugh.

- Go on... - See you soon.

Safe travels.

I hope we have a girls' fan club.

Come on, Pierre! This isn't the time!

No way! Goddamn.

Come on, Mr. "Azbanour".

- Are you Jewish? - Not at all.

Lower your pants

Before smiling, before leaving childhood

Before we know it, youth has fled

It seems so short, we're stunned

Before comprehending We leave existence.

When we hold in our hands that richness Being twenty,

Tomorrows full of promise

When love leans over us And offers us its sleepless nights

When we see, far ahead,

Life laughing, embroidered with hope

Rich with joy and madness

We must drink till we're drunk

Our youth

Every second of our youth is counted

And never again can we look Lost time in the eye

It passes by.

They got the Manouchian network.

Seems they've already been shot.

I have to go.

Hurry!

We can't stay here, it's dangerous.

The Germans will find us here.

Let's go across the street.

Hurry! The hotel across the street!

Aznavourian, first floor.

- Micheline! - It's over!

We're free!

- What's going on? - The Americans!

We're free!

- I'm so happy to see you. - Me too.

We're free!

Chapter 3: "La Bohème"

Charles?

That was wonderful, thanks.

- Find it funny? - I'm eager to have our place.

Charles, are you there?

You're here too.

You're all right? You seem tense.

No.

Are you hungry?

Yes... no.

I'll make you something.

It'll go fine, trust me.

1,000 for us both would be great.

Let me do this. You keep quiet.

- You'll ruin everything. - Smile.

The artists!

So three nights?

I can offer you...

1,500.

We take 3,000.

3,000? Each?

Of course.

Each night?

Come on, guys! 18,000 francs?

That's right, it's...

what we usually get.

You're not cheap.

Fine. Here's a little advance.

I only have 1,000 on me.

We'll draw up your contracts.

And we sign tomorrow?

Let's go drink, my friend. Let's celebrate!

Tonight, the best restaurant in Paris!

- With pleasure. - Better yet!

All week long, we'll do the best restaurants in Paris!

Tonight, let's treat ourselves.

But we'll invest the rest. We'll print our own posters.

No, Charles! Spend it on posters?

For once we have money, let's have fun.

We will have fun, but later. Even more fun.

Meanwhile, let's get famous.

"Publicity is important".

Welcome, everyone, to Paris Radio Diffusion,

a live musical show.

See who's here?

Charles Trenet.

And Edith Piaf.

And Edith Piaf!

Roche and Aznavour, with Départ Express!

Ladies and gentlemen.

Gentlemen, congratulations, I loved it!

Coming from you, that's an honor, Mr. Trenet.

You know Raoul Breton? Best music publisher in Paris!

Of course.

It's hard to miss you. Posters of you all over.

I'm interested. Come see me next week.

We'd love to. Monday morning?

Monday morning, fine.

See you soon, Edith.

It was an honor to have you here.

Come over here.

- Me? - Yes, you!

You got a good thing, peppier than the others.

- Thank you. - What you doing tonight?

I have friends coming over. Wanna join us?

Yes, I'd love that.

My partner too?

What partner? Bring him along.

See you later.

Here they are! You finally found us?

The little one sang well, and he writes.

Faou, serve them. And keep practicing on me.

Edith, take it easy.

It's fine, dear.

He's afraid I'm a boozehound.

He hides the bottles on tour.

- You write music? - Mostly lyrics.

And pretty well. His writing is interesting.

Not like others.

And his voice isn't bad, it's raspy like an American.

- Are you Jewish? - No, Armenian.

What's that?

- Too long to explain. - So don't try.

Why black? You in mourning?

If my shirt's dirty, it shows less.

So you're wearing a filthy shirt?

Could be.

This kid's great. He even wears dirty clothes.

You're like me, from the street.

- Ever sung in the street? - You bet I have!

I'm starting to like this kid.

First thing I bought was a bicycle for street fairs.

Oh yeah? Ever been to the "Petit Balcon"?

Sure. I prefer "Le Bal à Jo".

- Can you three-step? - You bet I can.

- Forwards, backwards? - Yep.

- Backwards? - Yes.

Let's see that, my boy!

Michel, Henri, roll up the carpet.

Marguerite, play us a waltz.

We'll see if Mr. Aznavour can waltz a three-step backwards.

Help me up.

So...

And one, two, three.

- He's for real! - I return the compliment, ma'am.

Call me Edith.

All right, Edith.

In two days, I go on tour.

The Compagnons de la Chanson open for me.

I'll give you your chance.

You can do my curtain raiser.

- And you can announce me. - Thank you.

If I may...

Do we get paid or...

You get offered a Piaf tour, and all you say is "how much"?

It's true... Sorry.

I have a family to feed and I want to get married.

Married?

At your age you stay single in this job. Am I married?

Fine.

The train to Roubaix is at 8: 20.

Be on time. I hate latecomers.

Thank you...

Edith.

Dammit!

Pierre will kill me.

Let me through, excuse me!

You too?

God Almighty!

What clowns.

We laugh but we just ruined everything.

I'm going back to bed.

I have a blonde waiting.

We're not giving up.

We'll take a bus.

Half the bridges don't work. Trains take ages.

If we're smart, we'll arrive at the same time.

Let's shake a leg!

Edith!

You two are here.

We're early-comers.

Wise-asses too!

Let's see what it's like with bums like you.

- See you tonight? - See you.

We're on at 8. Be there at 7.

We'll be there.

Ladies and gentlemen,

one sole name, and in that name, all of music.

Edith Piaf.

Thank you.

By Michel Emer, The Accordionist.

By the way, we're cutting the tour short.

I just got an offer in New York.

New York! The dream!

When do we leave?

I leave on Tuesday, and you...

when you can afford a ticket!

Stop!

need to buy her clothes. She outgrew everything.

We have to move. The Nazis are back.

Did you know that Seda is Roche's daughter?

Charles, you're not listening.

Sorry, forgive me, I was thinking.

- So? - When are you present?

You were on tour for months and barely saw your daughter.

I was so glad the tour ended. I thought you'd be glad to come home.

I'm glad to be home. Why are you complaining?

I'm allowed to regret that the tour ended.

I waited my whole life for it.

I do it for us too, for our future.

If my own wife doesn't understand, what do I do?

I put my career aside for Seda.

No.

I never asked you to.

I always told you to keep on singing.

- My parents could tend to her. - She needs parents!

- What would you do in New York? - There!

I'll do my job!

If I must neglect everything to succeed, I will.

You always complain, whatever I do!

- You're never happy. - Unbelievable!

You're the one who's never happy.

If at least you were glad to be here.

Even here, you're elsewhere.

In your thoughts, your songs, never here!

You're bored with us, Charles

- You're not serious. - Why? Are you happy?

Happy with our work since we're back?

Imagine the American girls kissing you!

What about the plane tickets?

My parents cut me off.

- You have a wife and daughter to feed. - Trust me.

So, kids.

Here we are.

Today's the big day.

I'm absolutely thrilled you're signing with Raoul Breton.

I tell everyone about you.

My two amazing songwriters.

Your songs will be sung by the best singers.

- Did you see the contract? - Yes.

- See the advance? - Thank you.

We're in advance ourselves.

We've written quite a few songs.

As for your advance, we'll need a little more because...

we'd like to talk about a project.

Papa, that's too big a load!

- Charles, how are you? - Let me help.

The flea market is a long way!

Are you crazy? This is heavy.

Yes, heavier than usual.

- How are you doing, son? - Fine.

Pierre and I are leaving for America.

America?

To join Edith Piaf in New York.

Remember when you were a kid and we wanted to live there?

But we're fine here.

No, what are you doing?

It's fine.

- I have what I need. - It's yours!

I said I'd be working there.

You'll need it there.

No, I'll be fine. All right?

Being here is wild!

The country where everything is possible.

Good things will befall us.

America... here we come!

I think she said we can't enter without a visa.

You think? I thought you spoke fluent English.

Yes, English. But American is different.

We're talking territorial administration!

It's technical language, so let me do this.

Where are they taking us?

Why the fuck are we here?

How long can they keep us?

I don't know. Maybe we should find a pen and paper.

At least we can write.

What?

Bravo, Charles. Bravo what?

Your idea to meet Piaf without telling anyone, thanks.

You're funny.

It's you who bought the tickets.

No one mentioned a visa?

Yes, but I prefer prison. It's nice here.

No, no one mentioned it!

- We need to make a call. - Call who?

I don't know, our parents maybe. We can't stay here.

You'll catch a disease.

Why did I listen? We can't even buy a return ticket.

You gave your family everything.

I already explained, Pierre.

I'm sorry.

Let's see if there are any girls.

No, no.

I don't even know who the president is.

I understood! For example, par exemple.

Good job!

- Hats off. - To you too.

What are you doing here?

We came to see you. As promised.

Think I have time to tend to you?

Thank you... thing.

So...

What'll I do with you two nitwits?

Clifford says you need money. We'll try to help.

You know I won't abandon you!

- My idea isn't in New York. - So where to?

Montreal.

We'll get you plane tickets.

Dress warm, it's freezing.

You'll be met by Gustave Longtin.

I'll call him. He can't refuse me anything.

He has a good venue, the Quartier Latin. Good clientele.

You'll be a smash.

You'll have the French speakers, they adore Parisians.

With your Frenchie faces and your music, they'll eat you up.

He'll take good care of you: find you a contract, an apartment.

I'll make sure everyone knows you're my protégés

and you're wildly successful in Paris. No one can check.

You'll have every Quebec girl at your feet.

And I'll be rid of you!

Here, guys. You really deserve it!

3,500!

Sorry, Edmond but we can't play here.

Excuse me?

How can we perform on a stage like that?

If you can call it a stage!

So? The stage isn't the attraction. The singer is.

If you don't mind...

I learned the ropes from Edith Piaf

She'd never have set foot here.

What should I do?

Renovations.

Lots of renovations.

Renovations are no problem. Think it over.

Let me have a word with him.

Do that.

There's nothing to think about. It's no.

It's tiny, ugly, dirty, smelly.

The Quartier Latin is fine.

You know who he is?

- You really want to work for a Mafioso? - Mafioso...

- What difference does it make? - I'll double your pay.

Trust me.

It needs to be fully redecorated. It's like an old dance hall.

Wallcoverings, new floors.

I guess you don't like the curtains.

No, they're nice.

I like the color. But you have to push them back.

To create a backstage here.

If we do that. won't the stage be too small?

Just make it bigger.

And most of all...

you'll have to raise it.

It's an investment. Trust me, you won't regret it.

You can begin. See you later.

Ladies and gentlemen, good evening.

Thanks for coming to kick off the renovated Faisan Doré.

To celebrate,

let's greet the French duo everyone's talking about,

Roche and Aznavour!

Good evening, Montreal.

Here's a song to warm your hearts.

- Jocelyn. - Morning, Charles.

- You're well? - Yes, and you?

- Is our little bird awake? - Just barely.

- I'm off. - See you soon.

What are you doing?

- Bald spot's too big to frame. - Bastard!

Aren't you slick? Another new suit!

That Jocelyn.

I never ran into one girl so often.

One month is a record!

I like Jocelyn a lot.

- Where were you? - With Mariflore, the tall redhead.

I think I've been round the block. I'm sick of fans.

I'm for settling down with Jocelyn, building something.

We have the perfect life here.

We have everything we need.

What?

"I'm for settling down with Jocelyn,

building something."

Is that Pierre Roche?

Laugh, you can't understand!

Maybe one day you too will want a wife and kids.

That was a low blow.

Come on, Charles.

You're right.

I have to stop lying to myself.

And lying to her.

I constantly tell myself once we're settled,

I'll send for her and my daughter.

And I keep pushing it off.

Thanks for driving us.

I couldn't let you go to the airport in a taxi.

When will you be back?

Three weeks, maybe a month?

The future bride and groom!

- Thank you. - Don't linger!

Go, say "I do" and hurry back.

Everyone get in or we'll be late.

Charles!

- Baba. - Son.

I'm glad to see you.

How are you, sweetie?

Give Daddy a kiss.

You learned how to dress!

Starting already?

Are you back for good?

We have a good life there.

Aïda, you could perform there.

The Québécois will love you.

Of course. I said it was a mistake.

We're so far apart.

With her here and my success in Montreal.

Your what? Success? What success?

- We do well there. - And that's enough?

A little success in some backwoods cabaret?

Ever think about the future?

My stupid little genius!

You've got talent but no idea how to build a career!

Listen to big sister. Here's the plan.

To be successful, you need a nice face.

If you want to sing love songs, it's time for a nose job.

I know a specialist. He works miracles.

The surgery is on me.

Then use your best handwriting to write three letters.

First letter, to the Faisan Doré.

Tell them you're not coming back.

Careers are made in Paris.

Edmond will kill us. He expects us.

Why waste away in Montreal? There are four lousy clubs.

A French artist must be successful in France.

Trust me, Paris is the place.

You must sing your songs to a French audience.

From today,

We'll never be seen together

From today,

My heart will live under the ruins

Damned Frenchmen!

Next, a breakup letter to your wife.

You're not in love anymore.

No one married succeeds in this business.

From today,

My voice will never say "I love you"

I'll always be there I'll find you a place.

Seda can stay with my parents.

I'll be the shadow of myself

My hand separated from yours

In the third letter, you'll tell your pal Pierre

that it's over, you're staying.

He just got married. He won't want to stay here!

Let him go, you don't need him.

A man, a real man, builds his career solo.

Never again will we feel the same fear

Of seeing our happiness flee

It is over

From today.

- Do you realize what this means? - Yes.

I'm ready.

I'll start from scratch, work twice as hard.

I'm talking about me!

Can we not talk about you for once?

About your desires, your ambitions?

You wrote Edmond without telling me.

Think he'll keep me now?

Sorry, I thought about it from all sides.

I've had enough.

I can't force myself to live there. I did think about you.

It's hard to imagine things without you, but you're married now.

Your life is there.

That changes the game.

All I know is that I want to write.

And to be able to write my songs,

I need Paris streets.

See? It's always "you".

Your career, your songs!

You were often right when you said "trust me".

But you're mistaken.

Montreal has it all!

Maybe not for you, Mr. Never Satisfied!

You'll see, your ambition will make you lose it all!

Me, your wife, your daughter!

It's thanks to my ambitions

that you have an apartment and a wife you love!

Yes, I have ambitions.

Yes, they're not yours.

Must I apologize for that?

Chapter 4: "It Will Be My Day"

And I have to carry the suitcase?

Sorry, Edith.

Edith, I'm sorry, I can't go with you to Bordeaux.

The Paradis Latin wants me Thursday.

Good contract, I can't refuse.

You prefer the Paradis Latin to opening for me?

No, Edith, that's not it.

I was kidding.

Sing with your nude dancers. One less flop in my opening act!

Right, my stupid genius?

Know what?

I look at you and realize I prefer your old nose.

Really?

This is my song.

I wrote it.

Really? Why didn't you offer it to me?

I did offer it to you.

What did I say?

That it was of no interest.

And that I could shove it.

I said that?

Strange. So unlike me.

Enough already! We want Piaf!

- You're done, Joséphine? - Yeah.

- Hi, Charles. - Hello, Françoise.

I have a car. Want a drink?

Since when do you have a car?

Follow me.

Wait for me.

This is your life outside the cabaret?

Piaf's place, I can't believe it.

- All good, little genius? - Fine.

Joséphine, Edith.

Damn, what a body!

Gilbert, you know Charles Aznavour.

Gilbert Bécaud, a nice little songwriter.

Recently it struck me. I wrote a song called On My Life.

- I speak about myself. - Is that the secret?

I don't know, but it seems important to say "I" and "you".

When you address the world, it creates distance.

You must write each song as if you really experienced it.

Even if it's not true.

You need to act your songs.

Piaf acts her songs.

As for the rest,

all it takes is work.

Right word, right place.

Each word has its own rhythm.

I sang with Piaf!

There you go.

I like her, she's my favorite.

Busy little geniuses?

I was saying how much I love his work.

He's a good writer!

But he wants to sing, and on stage he's not...

that good.

But I'll take your two songs.

Bravo.

I don't feel well. All dizzy.

Be right back.

Staying much longer?

What do the parents say?

I haven't introduced him to them yet.

They'll be happy, he's Armenian.

Georges Garvarentz.

Wonderful composer.

Does he make a living?

- He's talented - Talent is not enough.

Cut the older brother act.

I know you'll adore him.

Can you tell me what's wrong?

You look awful.

I'm hanging in.

I need to work more, rehearse more.

All you do is drive that tyrant around.

- Stop, Aïda. - It's true.

I don't know why you accept it.

It's not always easy, but...

I learn a lot from her.

It's Edith Piaf.

And you're Charles Aznavour.

What exactly are you afraid of?

That's not like you.

Jezebel...

The demon that burned in my heart

That angel that wiped my tears

It was me... No, not me, you.

I'm screwing up.

You don't think it's pitched too high for me?

No, that's the beauty of it.

That you have to force it.

You must attack forte.

Forte? My little genius speaks Italian now.

Your song isn't easy, but it'll be fine.

I told you, you're better with the serious stuff.

You should work on your writing.

Seriously, aren't you sick of flopping as an opening act?

Time to stop singing between strippers.

Didn't you say if I were a man, a real man,

I had to come back to France and be successful here.

Yes, but you can be successful as a writer.

Not what you said. You meant as a solo singer.

Yes, but to be a singer, you need a voice,

and your voice is raspy.

Cut the crap, back to work.

No.

I have to go.

I sing between two nude dancers.

Come back, we have work to do!

I have work too.

Running after your little career, trying to be a singer?

That's right.

I've been thinking about this for a while.

Of everything I learned from you,

the one thing that stands out

is that only hard work pays.

It's time to start.

To focus on my songs, on my career as a singer.

Because yes, whether you like it or not, I'm a singer.

What I do for you, day and night,

takes up all my time.

It's no longer possible, Edith.

I can't anymore.

I quit.

I won't lie, it's weird to hear you like this.

What is this?

Leaving your sister-in-arms?

Think you don't need me anymore?

I have no choice.

I have to think about myself.

It's to your credit.

Takes a lot of courage.

You know I hate fence-sitters. If you go, you go.

Lots of doors will close for you.

You may feel very lonely not under my wing.

Thanks for everything, Edith.

Beat it, I hate farewells.

Coming!

- Charles. - Raoul. How are you?

I won't lie. People say she fired you for lack of talent.

- Do they? - That without her you're done.

I'll show them.

My new impresario.

You'll see, you'll like him.

Hello, Charles.

No way! Jean-Louis Marquet!

I thought it over. What is Charles Aznavour?

A skinny guy, 164 cm, with a raspy voice.

I can't do anything about my height.

If I accept it, others forget it.

Next, my voice. I can't transform it totally,

but I can work on it to expand my range.

Trust me, I'm hard at it every day.

And finally, I'm severely lacking in culture.

To write, to do interviews, I must read more.

Raoul, make me a list.

All the great-classics, I'll read them all.

My point is, we must take things up a notch.

I'll cut my first record. My face on the cover, name on top.

We'll release it fast. I lost too much time.

Can we start over?

It feels strange.

- The radio stations got it? - Yes.

Good news?

Not really. They don't want to play it for now.

That prick Vital, the head of RTL, stole one of your songs.

- How so? - He produces films too.

He put your song Parce Que in his latest film.

Without asking for the rights. Without paying.

The nerve of him!

It's professional misconduct.

But great news for us.

He's in no position to negotiate. His film opens next week.

The reels are being dispatched to theaters all over.

The price is ours to set.

I have a better idea.

He's in his own world. I'll snap him out.

- Charles! - Here I am.

Mama suggests you work with Georges.

Why not? Let's talk next week.

Hear that?

- Is that you, Dad? - You bet!

- You're on the radio? - Yep!

Incredible! See? They finally understood!

The head of RTL didn't have a choice.

Congratulations, son!

Turn that off, it's awful.

What do you mean?

It's terrible. I gesticulate for no reason.

My head bobs around. Who sings with hands in pockets?

The suit's too big, the hair's no good.

Don't let a few critics spoil your TV debut.

A few critics?

One says I'm like a muezzin with a cold.

"The range of a peppermill"!

"A small-time crook, a tiny talent in a tiny body.

A voice stunted by lack of beauty and clumsy movements."

Bastards! They're racists.

- You're exaggerating. - Am I?

Wait.

I'll show you exaggerating.

"This Armenian is repulsive.

"Armenians are supposedly good with numbers.

"Aznavour, become an accountant!"

That's not racist?

It's pure nastiness. It's just stupid.

The public matters. and yours is growing.

I'll go to the public.

Jean-Louis, book me one of the big Paris venues.

Alhambra, Olympia. Invite everyone, all high society.

The critics, everyone. Even them, especially them!

But before that, I'll tour all of France.

At least 10 musicians.

The company can't afford a tour, not with a band.

I'll finance it, with my money, okay?

Calm down. For once you saved some money.

You can't bet it on a tour that may flop.

Why would it flop? Why?

Raoul?

He's right, it's risky.

Exactly! We've discussed this!

You take risks in this business, or you die!

We can take risks and not bet everything.

- It's exciting but this is madness. - Madness?

Fuck, even you abandon me?

Even you don't believe in me?

I'm going to prove you all wrong.

You, the public, the critics, everyone!

I'll put on a new show. I'll do this tour no matter the cost.

I'll persuade everyone in every venue!

Starting now, I'll write a song a day!

I'll sing till I rip my throat!

I'll show them I'm not one to be neglected.

They haven't heard the end of Aznavour!

This is horrible, Jean Louis. Not a sound.

- Pure hell. - It'll be fine, focus.

Charles, breathe.

- Terrible. - No, it's great.

Come on.

Let me take that.

I'll be fine, Androuchka, thanks.

I think I was overconfident.

I saw too big.

Outside of Paris, no one is waiting to see me.

- I'm losing tons of money. - Really?

It's simple: I'm ruined.

I'll need to sell my car to print posters.

You still have Paris Next month is sold out, right?

Paris?

A week at the Alhambra and only the first night is full.

Sometimes I think I should quit.

What are you talking about?

I've never heard you talk like this.

It'll be fine, I'm sure.

We'll see.

- See you, Sis. - Wait!

Our parents left a letter for you.

From someone named Arlette. Ring a bell?

It's been a while.

Read it to me.

"Dear Charles,

"This isn't easy to write, so I'll get to the point.

"You have a son.

"His name is Patrick. He's 8.

"When I found out, I wasn't in Paris.

"I had just met someone.

"I thought it best not to tell you.

"Now I've left that man, who became an alcoholic,

"violent with both me and Patrick.

"I have very little money.

"Patrick needs a father.

"May I introduce you to him quickly?"

At the bottom, she left a phone number.

This is starting to be a lot. I'll call you back.

"With a nasal voice lacking in strength,

"Aznavour's pretention to sing before a crowd is unthinkable.

"Total recklessness."

Why are you reading that?

And this: "We were able to catch a glimpse

"of a medieval monstrosity,

"from the days of Quasimodo.

"How can they let a cripple sing?" A cripple.

Ignore them. They just want attention!

Come, you're on in 5.

Paris...

that I fear.

Tonight I live or I die.

... I have talent.

When I was 18, I left my small town

And decided to live my life full on

My heart, was light, and my valise thin

I was sure I'd conquer Paris

I had the fanciest tailor make me

This blue suit, it was the latest craze

The photos, the songs, the arrangements

Took their toll on my life savings

I saw myself already On a theater marquee

My name 10 times bigger Than anyone else's

I saw myself already, adored and rich

Signing autographs For a bustling crowd of fans

I was the greatest of daydreamers

I imagined the fame, The standing ovations

I saw myself already Checking my list

For the girl who that night Would hang on my arm

The face has aged under my makeup

But the voice is there, the moves too, I've still got bounce

My heart has grown bitter As I've grown older

But I have ideas, I know the ropes, I still believe

Just feeling the stage under my feet

Seeing an audience makes my heart race

No one helped me, I had no luck

But deep down I know It will be my day

My blue suit, I've worn it 30 years now

And my songs make laugh only me

It's hand to mouth, it's door to door

I do whatever it takes to endure

I've known only easy success

Night trains and ladies of the night

The pathetic pay, carrying bags all day

Seedy hotels and measly meals

saw myself already In photographs

In the arms of a star At winter ski or by the sea

I saw myself already Telling my life story

Feigning nonchalance As I give advice to debutants

Smooth and calm, my opening nights

Telegrams from Paris bigshots I fear

Before this crowd, such stagefright

Then curtains up, cheers and spotlights

I did my best to stand out

I sang about love, comedy and fantasy

If I failed miserably, If I'm just a shadow

Not my fault The public didn't understand

I was never given my chance

Others succeeded with little voice And lots of money

I was too pure, or too in advance

But the day will come When I show them I have talent.

Let's change jobs.

I know the sound of seats flapping up. People are leaving.

Go take a bow.

- What for? - Go on, Charles.

"I saw myself already On a theater marquee..."

To the radio executives I saw after the show,

eager to play It Will Be My Day.

This time you'll make a grand entrance. Every station!

Charles! What a show! What lovely staging!

- Thank you, Charles. - That's Charles Trenet!

I adore him!

Look who's here. Bouchard.

I hate that critic. He often annihilates me.

Mr. Aznavour? You really blew me away.

Thank you.

Sorry about my last article.

- I wasn't very gentle. - Really?

You know, I never read reviews.

Have some champagne.

It's on me. It's my pleasure.

Have an excellent evening. See you soon.

A lesson in diplomacy! Good job!

He's good. Have some more champagne.

Charles Trenet!

I always said the best song ever is Y'a d'la Joie.

But tonight,

my son became a great artist, right?

Remember what I always say?

Look at us there, look at us here.

The boy is here.

Good evening.

Good evening.

Hello, Arlette.

It's really good to meet you, Patrick.

- Enjoy the show? - It was fine.

- Did your mother explain? - Yes.

- I'll live with you sometimes. - Right.

Come meet your family.

- Your grandfather, Misha. - Hello, my boy.

Your grandmother, Knar.

Your sister Seda.

I made your bed next to mine.

A lot of people, all of a sudden!

Definitely your son, Charles.

Chapter 5: "Take Me Away"

What are you doing here? Wasting away your life!

- It's fine. - It's not at all fine.

Look at you behind that clinker.

You should be behind a concert piano

in a packed venue, people on their knees.

So why are you here?

- Can't be in two places at once. - Yeah, right!

- Cut! - Okay, we cut.

That was very good. We'll do it again.

Charles, can you play it more blasé?

Mr. Truffaut, we need 15 minutes to reload.

15 minutes!

Mr. Aznavour?

Can I have an autograph?

- For? - Céline.

Morning, Charles. Up early, as usual. I have good news.

Find me the best translators for my songs.

I'll record them in Spanish and English.

All right. Now?

We have no choice.

Nothing is better than 17 hours of work a day.

Can't deny that. The good news anyway:

It Will Be My Day has sold more than 300,000 records.

Second piece of good news:

after your record of 90 concerts at the Alhambra,

we start a 2-week run at the Olympia.

My good news: some new songs for you to hear.

- Happy with them? - Very.

I think I found the formula.

The Aznavour formula.

Shall I play them?

Fast. Just one. I have an appointment.

Magnificent.

Your appointment?

Damn.

Charles.

Open your mail, especially this.

You'll like it.

Your royalties!

One million.

Old francs?

No, new ones.

Hello, magicians.

Positions, please, let's go.

Michel?

Stop!

The strings.

They're off. Concentrate.

Once more, from the start.

- We cut. - Sorry, my fault.

Once more.

The brass.

Can I have it sharper, punchier?

Can't you get it right once today?

Once more.

Johnny Hallyday, Charles Aznavour

Pleased to meet you.

Thanks for having me over. Nice of you.

- Pretty place! - Think so?

- Where are you from? - Grew up in Paris.

Belgium too. But mostly the streets.

- We have that in common. - Really?

- We have that in common - Really?

I heard you sing, bravo!

- You're very talented! - Thanks.

Singers of your generation are rarely into me.

Not many of them like rock, or "yé-yé" as they say.

Singers of my generation are afraid you'll take their place.

But if we ignore the new stuff,

we're dead.

Sing without your rock effect.

Your softest voice, like whispering to a woman.

Fine, right up my alley.

I'll start.

Charles, want to come dance?

No thanks.

So, Charles, you're acting picky?

Don't like them?

They're pretty but I know why they're here.

Pain in the ass.

You screwed half the Riviera.

Half? Is that all?

The Swedish friends I told you about.

I'll introduce you.

Girls!

Over here!

Charles, meet Essy and Ulla.

Ulla, is that it?

Hello, Charles. Thrilled to see you.

- You speak Swedish? - Not at all.

It's all I know and I don't know what it means.

It means...

"Caught with the beard in the mailbox."

For us, it's "caught red-handed".

Congratulations, Mr. Aznavour.

- Thanks. - Thank you.

You know everyone here?

I don't know them, they know me.

- They're fans. - Fans?

Why fans?

Does Charles Aznavour ring a bell?

No, sorry, I don't really know French culture.

Don't be sorry.

But in French culture,

when you're offered champagne, you have to accept.

What do you do?

I'm a model. I do photos.

I'd have bet on it.

You must travel a lot.

Yes, Milano...

Paris, the States a little.

Listen, Ulla,

the day I sing in the States, I'll bring you along.

I'll pay for everything. Airfare, hotel...

Thanks, that's sweet but...

if ever it happens, I'll pay my way.

Fine.

So...

You were caught... red-handed.

Shall we dance?

Seda, Patrick, come have breakfast.

No thanks. Not yet.

How's Patrick doing at school?

It's hard to tell, he never speaks.

Tomorrow we lunch with Frédéric Dard.

- Coming? - Tomorrow?

I can't, I record 6 songs in Spanish.

I hope you'll have time to eat.

A sandwich.

I used to eat them for lack of money, now it's for lack of time.

Who's talking? Charles or Aznavour?

Tell me when my brother's free.

You're funny, Sis.

Sleep well, my love?

Very well. I didn't even hear you leave.

Hello, Ulla.

That's pretty, what is it?

Song I'm writing with Jacques Plante.

I finally found the melody.

- Can you play it? - If you like.

Good thing I gave you a chance in that club.

You were so sure of yourself.

So pretentious.

So French.

No, I gave you a chance.

See? Exactly what I mean.

My parents moved there after their wedding.

So, Charles?

When is our wedding?

Marriage, kids...

Been there, done that. Not for me anymore.

All I do is try to understand you.

Don't start this up again, dammit!

I'm going back to Sweden.

If ever you want to see me again,

it's to get married.

Careful.

You realize what you're doing here?

Charles, someone else for you.

Can't you see I'm busy? He insists.

What's his name?

Pierre Roche.

Oh, Pierre.

- Why not tell me? - You hate surprises.

Come in.

You just told Frank Sinatra you're getting the same salary as him?

I've missed you, Charles.

Look at you!

I can't even make fun of your nose!

- But you... - Yes, I know...

How about you? Where are you at?

I play piano in a hotel.

The customers don't listen, so there's not much pressure.

But I'm happy today.

Thanks to my son, I'm composing again.

How so?

Come what may, every morning,

we have breakfast together.

We talk, he tells me what he dreamt.

- They inspire melodies. - Really?

- And you? - Me?

- You happy? - Yes.

You're in a good place, got all you want.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Still never satisfied?

And your love life?

I almost found the love of my life.

- Meaning? - She wanted to get married, not me.

- She left. - Damn.

Ulla.

Swedish. Beautiful, refined.

She's my mirror opposite.

She's ice and I'm fire.

You're speaking in the present.

What are you waiting for?

Daddy, will you have breakfast with us?

Yes, yes. It smells good here.

Do you want some jam?

I don't like jam.

What did you dream last night?

About Misha. We were in the garden.

There was a dog trying to catch us

and Misha was crying.

That's nice.

- Will you be here this weekend? - Only in the morning.

And tonight?

I won't be here, sweetie. I'm working.

- Patrick. - Hello, Dad.

Come, my son.

Jean-Louis said you were here. Tell me!

I haven't seen you in weeks.

I know.

- What's wrong? - Nothing.

Bravo for tonight. It was really good.

It wasn't at all good.

Change the subject. No news for 3 weeks?

- I'm sorry. - Talk to me.

I didn't want to go out. I wasn't feeling great.

But I'm better.

I'm good.

And the new apartment? You like it?

- You're not too lonely? - No, not at all.

The apartment is perfect.

Thanks, it's a nice gift.

Don't thank me, it's normal. You're my son.

And if you need anything else...

No.

The piano?

Did you get it?

Nice, right?

The reporter from Le Parisien.

Coming.

Don't hesitate.

You mustn't lack anything.

I have everything I need, Dad.

One last one.

Sorry, we have to go.

- You were excellent tonight. - No, Androuchka.

I know when I'm good and when I'm not.

I feel like a drink.

Take me where you go.

You know, I mostly go to bars...

Homo bars?

- It's not a bad word. - Homo bars!

- Where's Patrick? - He left.

Already? He didn't even say goodbye.

Bravo, Jacky. Very moving.

Thank you.

A very personal interpretation.

- I liked it. - Then I'm happy.

I've sung in clubs where I get insulted all night.

I've heard it all.

Queen, faggot, dirty queer.

Don't worry, I've been insulted too.

Really? What did they say?

If you only knew.

Midget, dirty foreigner.

Dirty Jew.

You're not Jewish, are you?

At least you're a homo!

Yes.

- I don't get it. Who'll sing this? - Me.

You say "I" in the song.

So?

You'll explain to people?

Make an announcement or they won't understand.

Of course we won't make an announcement!

Stop thinking the public is stupid.

I'll sing it as is.

I'll stand like you, Androuchka.

I live alone with Mother

In an old apartment

Rue Sarasate

And to keep me company

A turtle, two canaries

And a cat

To let Mother get some rest

Often I go to the market

And I cook

I tidy up, I clean, I dust

And sometimes I sew

On the machine

Work does not scare me

I'm a bit of a decorator

A bit of a stylist

But my real job is at night

When I'm a transvestite

I am an artist

I have a very special number

Which ends in full nudity

After striptease

And in the bar all I see

The men can't believe their eyes

I'm a homo, as they say.

You didn't call first?

What's wrong?

- The parents? - No.

Aïda.

Talk.

It's Patrick.

What?

They found him at his place.

He's dead, Charles. I'm sorry.

I'm going.

You're not coming to the parents?

I do the Olympia tonight.

Even tonight?

- Are you good, brother? - Yes.

Are you sure?

I'm fine, yes...

I was writing a song.

You can tell me if you're not well.

I'm perfectly fine.

You know...

I was concentrated on these lyrics.

Why do you shut yourself up all day?

There's no hurry for a new album.

There's no rush, you don't need money.

Someone has to maintain our lifestyle.

Charles...

You're at the top.

You can take some time.

After all that happened.

Maybe you should slow down a bit.

Enjoy the children.

You just lost your son.

Talk to me.

You can tell me you're in pain.

First, I don't think I'm at the top.

And I've thought it over.

I'll ask Jean-Louis to rent the best theater

in every capital of every big country.

I need to travel.

I need to see people.

All right.

Very good idea.

In case you don't know my name...

I had it written here.

- Good job, you were perfect. - Thanks.

- I'm going, I'm tired. - The driver's waiting. See you.

By the way, the Americans said yes.

You're getting Sinatra's fee.

No kidding.

Bravo, Charles.

I'm treated like a king, by the people, the press.

That's wonderful. So why do you sound like this?

I don't really know, I feel...

weird.

I don't know if I want to laugh or cry.

I think about our parents, about Patrick,

Pierre, Edith.

Remember what Papa used to say?

"Look at us there, look at us here."

Look at yourself.

You've fulfilled all your goals.

Maybe that's the problem.

I worked so hard to get here.

And now I don't know what to do.

I'm not used to this.

Charles,

this is where I usually tell you to slow down.

To take time for yourself.

We both know your answer.

I'd like to be able to.

But if I stop, I die.

Charles?

Charles, are you there?

I'll be fine. I'll call you back.

All right.

It'll be fine.

Yesterday when I was young

The taste of life was sweet As rain upon my tongue

I teased at life As if it were a foolish game

The way the evening breeze May tease a candle flame

The thousand dreams I dreamed, The splendid things I planned

I always built alas. On weak and shifting sand

I lived by night and shunmed The naked light of day

And only now I see How the years ran away

Yesterday when I was young...

A legend of French music has passed on.

Charles Aznavour died last night at 94.

Up until the end, he wrote and sang on stage,

in France and throughout the world.

With 180 million records sold,

Charles Aznavour leaves behind a major œuvre.

The son of refugees became the symbol of French culture

and even the image of France in the world.