All language subtitles for Tout.s.Est.Bien.Passe.2021.FRENCH.1080p.WEB.H264-LOST (1)

EVERYTHING WENT WELL

SEPTEMBER 15TH

Hello?

What?

When?

Where are you?

Well, I'm coming right away.

Pascale.

- So?
- Let's go.

- Where is he?
- ER, Neuro.

This way, ladies.

Don't worry, sir,
we'll do the MRI now.

Dad?

Ladies, please.

- Sorry.
- Please wait over here.

This way, madam.
We'll take care of him.

Here we go.

Keep perfectly still.

We're starting now.

Ladies?

You can see your father now.

He's here, resting.

- I'll leave you now.
- Thanks.

Are you cold?

Tell me what happened...

Dad, I think you had a stroke.

You're at the hospital now.
Everyone's on the case.

Go away!

We'll transfer him to Neurology soon.

- Okay. Can we see him there?
- Of course.

Thank you.

Should I cancel my meeting?

No, go ahead. I'll stay.

- Are you sure?
- Yes. No need for two of us.

Go work.

Hello.

No, savory!

It's chocolate.

Want my sandwich?

Salmon and cream cheese. Okay?

Yes.

Here.

Take him to radiology.

It'll take a while.

You can go.
We'll call you or your sister.

- Okay.
- See you later.

Thank you.

- Is he your father?
- Yes.

I had a stroke, too.

I'm weak.

But doing better.

- The doctors expect a full recovery.
- Great.

Are you worried?

Yes.

No.

My father's strong,
he always recovers.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

So?

Left or right?

I don't know.

Stupid girl.

Can't read a map?

Your eyes were bigger than your belly again.

Slept poorly... didn't know where I was.

I think I screamed.

I heard you mumble,
but you didn't scream.

Nobody asked you, mister!

- He's deaf anyway, that one.
- Asshole.

When's Claude coming to see me?

We'll bring her this afternoon,
if she's up to it.

Her whole life,
whenever I proposed we have lunch

or take a walk...

she'd always say,

"If I'm up to it."

Would you like
Raphael and Noémie to visit?

I don't want your kids seeing me like this.

- Shall we inform anyone?
- Yes.

- Gérard?
- Who?

- Shithead?
- Yeah?

No need.

Got a pen and paper?

Yes.

Daniels' number is 01...

- 01...
- Go ahead.

I forget.

Dad, wake up.

Mom's here to see you.

Are you okay, Mom?

Your father doesn't look so bad.

Right.

I want to go home.

- First, my pills.
- Shall I get some water?

Hold on, Madam.

Here they are.

Here.

Take them with water, Mom.

She takes them dry.

I'm hot!

- Okay, let's go, Mom.
- Up you go.

Come.

- Goodbye, Pascale.
- Bye, Sylvia.

I'll call you.

Your mother's very sick.

...so I can't join you.

Shall I come home early?

No need. I'll be all right.

Call me if you're not.

Of course.

- I love you, honey.
- Me too.

- I'm not six feet under yet!
- You know what the doctor said.

Better to do it now,
just in case.

Since your wife is sick, too.

- What?
- I said your wife is sick, too.

What did he say?

Your wife is sick, too!

Strange, I can't hear him.

- Mr. Bernheim, your wife.
- Yes?

- She is sick.
- I know that.

Sign this for your daughters!

- Because she's sick?
- Yes, Claude is sick!

Hi, Sylvia.

- Is Mom in her room?
- No, in the studio.

This way, please.

- After you.
- Hi, Mom.

Hello.

Mr. Rocher is here.

Hi, Mom.

I'd never seen your work, it's...

very beautiful.

Are you still sculpting, Claude?

Mom, the notary came
so you can sign a power of attorney.

Go right ahead.

Mom, can you get up, please?

Get up, okay?

Go on, sit down.

Here.

Sign here, please.

And again, here.

Perfect. Thank you.

Thank you.

That's it for me, Claude.

- I can take you.
- No need. I'll leave you to it.

Be right back, Mom.

"I, André Bernheim,

"wish to be buried
in the family vault in Elbeuf."

Wouldn't you rather be with Mom
in Montparnasse?

Not with her parents.

"I want no particular ceremony,
only for the Kaddish to be recited.

"André Bernheim."

What?

Paris.

- The Kaddish in Paris?
- Yes.

You wrote nothing for the will?

The notary has it.

All for you.

My girls.

He's developed a DVT in his right leg,
complicated by a pulmonary embolism.

Along with the cerebral infarction,

the MRI shows a carotid aneurysm.

We'll increase the drug therapy.

The risk of relapse is high.

That's it.

I'm afraid that's all
I can tell you for now.

Any questions?

No.

Pascale, look.

- Isn't that Gérard?
- Where?

That guy out there?
No, that can't be him.

Anyway, he doesn't know.

- Shall I drop you off?
- Yes, please, at home.

Is Serge there?

No, he's still in the U.S.

Right.
You too?

- What?
- Brahms. I listened yesterday.

You don't hate piano anymore?

His favorite piece.

And he always butchered it!

- Hello.
- Hello.

- Feeling better?
- Yes.

I'm doing well.

However, your father

- has been moved to intensive care.
- What?

He was trying to talk all night.

You okay, Dad?

It's me, Emmanuèle.
Are you okay?

You're okay.

Are you okay, Dad?
Shall I call someone?

What are you doing? Stop.

You're not okay.

Please, someone!

I'll get a nurse.

Please!
I need a nurse urgently.

Hurry!

My father's struggling!

Please, he's choking!

What's in that?

A solution containing
lipid, carbohydrates,

amino acids and trace elements.

Good.

That'll be his food now.

- Great.
- I'll leave you now.

- Thanks.
- See you later.

- Hello.
- Hello.

Feeling better, Dad?

I know, I look awful.
I didn't sleep a wink.

Hello?

Yes, Mr. Bernheim is here.

No, he's not alone.
He's with his daughter.

Hello?

It was for your father.
But the guy hung up.

It's been ringing all morning.

I'm sure it was Gérard
who phoned earlier.

And it was him outside.

You think?

Hiding, to make sure Dad was alone
before coming up.

He won't dare while we're here.

I never told you.
Remember Dad's knee surgery?

Gérard had kicked him in the knees.

No!

It was so bad
I begged him to press charges.

But he refused.

That guy is such a shithead.

- It's me!
- I'll buzz you in.

Emmanuèle?

My love!

My darling.

Come.

They really modified the museum.

They added an ultra-modern wing
to the main building.

- What's wrong?
- Shh, Dad.

Calm down.

Hello. Bath time.

We'll leave.

Go sit down, Mr. Robert.

Let's go.

I didn't expect to see him so paralyzed.
So diminished.

You okay?

Emmanuèle?

The doctor wants to see us.

- Shall I come?
- It's okay, we'll be fine.

This is out story.

There, almost done.

The doctor says you're doing better.

You're prickly!
You didn't ask for a shave?

- This...
- What?

This... not better.

Don't worry, it'll get better, too.

SEPTEMBER 23TH

Here's his file.

Thanks.
Off we go.

- Thanks for everything.
- Sure. Stay strong.

I'm going with them.

- Where to?
- Broca Hospital. It's a transfer.

- So, this is the big day?
- Yes, he's off to Broca.

I leave the day after tomorrow.
I'm going home.

You're so lucky.

Your father's the lucky one.

A daughter like you...

Thanks.

Goodbye, sir.

Goodbye, miss.

I want you to help me end it.

I want you to help me end it.

Do you hear me?

I want you to help me end it.

"I want you...

"I want you to help me end it."

Stuffing your face again?

When I came home yesterday,
your mom wasn't here.

You girls were at school.
The apartment was empty.

If I'd had a gun,
I'd have blown my brains out.

What's your mother's current medical state?

My mother has a form of Parkinson's
and has been depressed for years.

- Since when?
- Since forever.

She lost her first child at birth.

A boy.

How are your parents' finances?

Very comfortable.

My father owned a factory and collects art.
My mother was a sculptress.

- Do they own their home?
- Yes.

Home hospitalization for your father

could be an option.

But we're not there yet.

In terms of medication,
we'll continue the hypertension meds.

Coversyl, Acebutolol and Loxen.

The anti-coagulants too, of course.
And the statins.

Good news:
He'll soon be able to eat solids.

A mashed diet.
It'll do him good.

Still no liquids.
He risks pulmonary aspiration.

But he can have gelled water.

You'll see, it's like jelly.

My father says
he wants to end it.

Yes, I know.

He spoke to me about it.

- Really?
- He told his nurses, too.

We're used to such reactions.

We'll up the dose
of the antidepressants.

But frankly, if he refuses to fight,

at his age and in his condition,
he won't last long.

Let's hope the antidepressants work fast.

He'll need to feel supported.

Get his spirits back up.

Don't worry.

In the end, they usually choose life.

- Thank you, Doctor.
- You're welcome.

I'm here! I'm here, Dad.

It's me.

Don't let me down.

Don't leave me like this.

This...

All this...

It's not me anymore!

Stop it.

Please.

What did you want to tell me?

Dad asked me to help him end it.

I won't do anything
without your agreement.

You're the one he asked.

Such an asshole.
Right to the end.

You know, Emmanuèle,

maybe...

Dad's giving you a gift.

Are you serious?

You wished him dead.

Yes.

As a kid, yes.

What does it actually entail?

I don't want to know.

- You got a mustache.
- You, too.

Thanks.

L'Chaim.

To life.

Why would your father ask this of you,
his daughter.

That's why.
Because I'm his daughter.

Why not Pascale?

He loves pitting us against each other.

Is that love or is that perversity?

It's both.

Hello, Emmanuèle.

- Hi, Thierry.
- How are you?

- Fine.
- Is your father here?

- No, not today.
- Nothing serious?

No... vacation.

Tell him we got Long's new sculptures.

- Have him call me when he's back.
- I will.

- Thanks.
- Bye.

I was just saying I hadn't seen André.

- Hello, Emmanuèle.
- Hello.

Are you okay?

Excuse me.

See anything good?

A small sculpture by Richard Long.

Everyone asked about you.

- Like who?
- Thierry,

de Beauceron,

Isabelle Morvan,

Hélène, from Quai de Seine...

I didn't tell them.

Why not?

Give them my room number,
the floor, everything.

Okay.

Careful, you'll get visitors.

It'll keep me busy.

I read a good article about the upcoming
sale of the Pierre Bergé collection.

I wonder how that's going to go.
When is it?

January, I think.

- In 4 months.
- We can go, if you like.

Don't think I've changed my mind.

Did you look into it?

Here.

Unbelievable.

Only you would swim in October!

Feels great!

- But you're frozen.
- I feel alive!

Hurry.

Is your novel coming along?

- No. I can't write since my father.
- I understand.

Go on!

A nice hot shower!

You wanted to swim.

- And he ate well?
- He finished it all.

Is he mad that I left?

I don't think so, he didn't say.
When will you be back?

I don't know, three days.

Enjoy yourself.

I will. Love you.

- Get some rest.
- Thanks.

Emmanuèle?

- It's ready.
- Coming.

Here we are.

- A little white wine never hurts.
- Thank you.

Cheers.

He was having a terrible time.
So much pain and discouragement.

His final year was horrendous.

He asked me to contact
The Right to Die with Dignity.

So I went.

They explained the process,
spoke of Switzerland, but...

he died first.

How about you?

What will you do?

I have no idea.

I don't know. Nothing for now.

I hope he changes his mind.

Your father is stubborn.

Yes.

You know,

he's a bad father.

But I love him.

I love him very much.

I wish I'd had him as a friend!

Then help him.

As a friend.

I won't kiss you, I'm sick.

Not hungry?

Are you mad that I left for a few days?

What's the matter, Dad?

Look at me.

Leave me alone.

Why didn't you call someone?

Don't stay.

I can't smell anyway, I'm stuffed up.

- We waited two hours.
- I'm so sorry.

We're terribly understaffed.

And your father needs
a lot of of care.

- Taking him to the toilet can't be hard!
- But it takes two people.

I will personally ensure
it doesn't happen again.

Is this alright?

Serge...

- Serge!
- What? What is it?

What's wrong?

You've got a fever.

Here, take this.

One more time.

You got a virus that's going around.
Nothing serious.

Ibuprofen to reduce the fever.

And rest, rest, rest.

- Can I see my father?
- No, you're contagious.

You'll be better in a week.

Very well.

Thank you, doctor.

LIVE AND DIE WITH DIGNITY
BY YOUR OWN DECISION

It's you.

Hello to you, too.

Sulking?

Just a little.

You had visits?

Of no interest.

So...

I have news.

I looked into it.
It's not possible in France.

Why not?

You're on analgesics,
you're not suffering enough.

- And it's too risky.
- For who?

For me.

You know the Leonetti Law?

So what do we do?

I contacted a Swiss association,
but we'd have to go there.

- To Switzerland?
- Yes.

Perfect.

So your father wants to die?

Hello?

- Mrs. Bernheim, are you with me?
- Yes.

He wants to end it, yes.

I propose we meet
next time I come to Paris.

- When will that be?
- In December.

Sounds good.

Would you be willing
to help pay my travel expenses?

- 300 euros?
- Sure, of course.

So then, lets meet

December 12th at 10 a.m.

at my hotel near the train station.
I'll send you the exact address.

Perfect.
Got it, the 12th.

Good day, then, Ms. Bernheim.

Goodbye, madam.

Emmanuèle?

- Hello, doctor.
- Hello.

So, what is it this time?

I need to talk to you.

That's the whole story.

I'm afraid I won't be able to handle it.

Is there anyone else your father could ask?

No one I can think of, no.

What if you were to refuse?

We can't refuse my father anything.

I'll prescribe half a tablet
every morning for a week.

Then a whole tablet, if all goes well.

Three months total.

Fluoxetine?

- It's the generic.
- Is it as good?

Same thing.

Perfect. Serge won't know I'm on Prozac.

- Thanks.
- Goodbye.

Manue.

Fantastic, you can sit up!

- You're having fun today.
- Sorry, doctor!

- No worries.
- Hello.

Hello.

Your father's doing better.
He can sit up now.

An hour so far.
We'll gradually increase the time.

If all goes well,
he can leave in two weeks.

- Go home?
- Not yet.

He still needs medical supervision.
I'll transfer his file

to a very good clinic.
I'll put you in touch.

C'mon!

It's a philosophical look
at mankind's trace in nature.

- Big beautiful paintings--
- Any news from Switzerland?

I asked you a question.

No, nothing new.

- Pascale and I are preparing your apartment--
- Screw that!

I don't want to go home.

Leave me alone.

- And bring me some razorblades.
- Fuck you.

DECEMBER 12TH

Madam.

Hello.

Let's have a seat.

My sister should be here soon.

There's an application to fill out,

with a list of required documentation.
About 15 items.

Starting with a medical certificate,
of course.

And

the address where
the urn or coffin should be sent,

a registration form,

the mandate,
a leaflet in French,

etcetera.

- Thanks.
- When the application is complete,

we'll decide whether or not
to accept your father.

If you accept him, what happens?

He'll need to go to Bern
in Switzerland.

There, he'll see our doctor

who will determine his lucidity.

And whether
he still desires voluntary death.

If so, we will give medicine
so he doesn't vomit.

Vomit?

The potion is very bitter.

After he drinks it,
he'll fall asleep peacefully,

- listening to music.
- I'll be back.

It's important that your father

take the glass and drink it himself.
Otherwise there's nothing we can do.

We're assisting his suicide,

but we're not the ones killing him.

Right?

I'm off.

Call me.

- Goodbye, madam.
- Goodbye.

Bon voyage.

What does your sister do?

She works for
a classical music festival.

That's nice.

But she particularly wants to investigate
the looting of instruments during the war.

Was your family affected?

Yes.

A cousin of my father's, Simone,

was taken to Ravensbrück.

I'm sorry.

But she got out.

- Have you always done this?
- No.

I was a magistrate

for over 30 years.

In Munich, then in Zurich.

Only after I retired

did I join the association,

which was founded by my best friend.

A professor of medicine.

- I'll leave you two.
- No, stay. It's important.

Yes, yes.

- Where are you from?
- Zurich.

I know it well!

- Where will it happen?
- In Bern.

I was a bit disappointed
by the Klee Foundation.

You must be capable of drinking

a deciliter of liquid.

- All by yourself.
- Really?

Yes.

I'll need a strong dose.

Since my bypass,
I've got the heart of an ox.

When can we do it?

Whenever you like.

You'll need some time
to get the application together.

And then...

it's always better to wait a while...

to be sure.

I'd like to do it as soon as possible.

- Your father is very determined.
- Yes.

- I'll be expecting your application.
- Here, this is for you.

Thank you.

If you have any questions or anything,

don't hesitate.

Very well.
Goodbye, madam.

Goodbye.

Excuse me.

Yes?

Has anyone ever canceled
at the last minute?

Yes.

It did happen one time.

An elderly man, who was very ill,

came with his much younger wife.

On his last day,

they walked around Bern
and he bought her a red dress.

That night,
seeing her in her new dress,

he found her so beautiful
that he decided to live.

They left together.

May I?

Goodbye, madam.

So, how was I?

I thought I'd be nervous,
but not at all.

I felt very relaxed.

I felt a nice connection,
as your mother would say.

How much will all this cost us?

Around 10,000 euros.

Not including the ambulance trip.

I wonder how poor people do it?

They wait to die.

Poor things.

What's this say? I can't read it.

"Desperately".

And here?

"Intolerable".

Come in.

Hello

Hello, Mr. Bernheim.

I'll put you to work.

- My body is all yours!
- Let's go.

- I'm off, Dad.
- Manue!

- Is tomorrow December 13th?
- Yes.

Happy birthday, my daughter.

Thanks, Dad.

Don't forget my application.

I'll lay you down.

- Yes.
- We'll work those muscles.

Feel the progress?

Yes, well, slightly.

Squeeze your fingers around the glass.

That's it.

Hold it tight.

Nice job.

- Thanks for coming.
- Happy birthday.

- Gift time.
- Already?

You move fast.

Denise, you first.

Beautiful.

Like it? Your favorite blue.

It suits you.

Sagan, a first edition.

Not bad.

- Your dream gift.
- Me again, sorry.

Be right back.
Hello...

- What's up?
- I'm at the clinic. Shithead's here.

Dad's agitated.

I don't know what to do.

Les Bleuets Clinic, please.

Sir, listen to me. You can't stay.

Gérard, you must leave.

- Visiting time is over, you must go.
- I want to sleep here I said!

- I want to sleep here!
- Gérard, stop!

Stop right now!

Enough!

Gérard, go to the café downstairs.

I'll meet you there.

Enough now.

He said he was family, so we let him in.

- Your father didn't say no.
- I know, I'm sorry, thanks.

Can we be alone now?

Dad, what do we do?

- I don't want him to...
- What?

- ...come anymore.
- Did you tell him?

- Why not?
- I can't!

I'm scared.

Want me to tell him?

Yes.

I'm fed up.

Same thing, please.

He should tell me himself.

He's been afraid of you since last year.

I didn't mean to hurt him.

He knows. We stayed close.
He even promised me his watch.

Now he wants you to leave him alone.

- He should tell me himself!
- Gérard.

You see the state he's in.

I don't want him to die.

Nobody does.

It's his choice.

I have to go.

So, did Shithead get the point?

I don't know.
Dad needs to tell him directly.

- He's afraid we'll exclude him?
- Maybe.

I'm sure he'll ask for money.

- Dad promised him his watch.
- The Patek?

It's worth a fortune.

Hello?

Speak.

André?

I don't...

I don't want you to come anymore!

Did you hear?
Don't worry about the money.

We'll wire you some.
But please leave Dad alone.

I don't care about money!

- Yes, Pascale.
- He came back last night.

- Who, Shithead?
- Yes.

The guard threw him out.
He'd come to get Dad for Christmas.

- He was furious.
- No!

Yes. He called all night long.

Dad was traumatized.
I filed a complaint.

- Good.
- That's it.

Bye for now.

- Talk later?
- Yes.

- Okay.
- Love you. Talk later.

We'll make sure that person
leaves you alone from now on.

If anything ever troubles you,
don't hesitate to let us know.

I will, thank you.

Good.

I'll leave you
with your daughters and grandson.

Ladies.

Raphael...

Yes?

Come here, sweetie.

So...

how's music going?

Good, Grandpa.

I can't play piano with you anymore.

Come give me a kiss.

My sweet boy.

Since you're both here,
we could choose the date.

What date?

For Switzerland.

- Raphael, could you leave us?
- Why?

Go to the waiting room.

How about...

June.

Too far away.

No even weeks or school breaks for me.

May won't work for me.
And Serge is away.

Why not March?

The first week, for example.

- Not funny, dad.
- What?

It's my birthday week.

How about...

Thursday, April 9th.
How's that?

Perfect.

Raphael?

Let's go.

Here.

- How's Grandpa?
- Sleeping.

APRIL 2ND

He's better
psychologically and physically.

He eats well and has many visitors,
which is excellent.

And he's stopped talking
about his project.

- He's over there.
- Thank you. Have a nice day.

Hi, Dad.

How are you?
Enjoy.

Maybe I should be buried in Paris.

I think it'd be better.

If Raphael wants to visit my grave,

it'd be easier for him.

It's better for Raphael and all of us.

So forget my parents in Elbeuf.

Montparnasse cemetery will do just fine.

As long as I'm nowhere near
your mother's family.

So you won't be with Mom.

Your mother can be with me.

I will not be with her horrible parents!

Why do you hate them so much?

I've told you a hundred times.

- No.
- Sure I have.

They didn't come to our wedding,
because their daughter

was marrying a homosexual!

Bloody bourgeois.

I have to go.

- Where?
- Boxing class.

You know you're my favorite son?

- Manue.
- Yes?

Pascale says Raphael
has a recital in mid-April.

I'd hate to leave without seeing it.

Is it possible
to postpone a Switzerland little?

I'll handle it.

Off I go.

- Bye, Dad.
- Bye.

Hey, there, Rapha!

Preparing the recital?

- Nervous?
- No.

Hey, doll!
You still haven't seen Grandpa.

Girls bore him.
He only likes Raphael.

- Take up clarinet.
- Very funny.

Hello! What are we celebrating?

Guess.

The Swiss lady told me,
when death gets real

their lust for life returns
and they cancel.

I canceled the hotel
and plane tickets.

And the Swiss lady?

No, not yet.

It's the clinic.

- Put it on speaker.
- Hello?

Manue, you'll never believe it.

I managed to call all on my own!

I typed in the number myself!

Great, Dad, congratulations!

No one helped me!

I'm with Pascale and the kids--

We forgot something.

What?

We need to set a new date.

We must act quickly.

If I lose my marbles,
they won't let me do it.

How about April 27th?

Okay, Dad.

Do you have a written statement?

No.

He can't write anymore.

The Swiss lady said
they don't need one there.

Maybe, but we need one in France.

- Can he talk?
- Sure.

Then record him, or film him.

- That's the first step.
- Okay.

- Do you plan to accompany him?
- Yes.

We'll be with him to the end.

Thank you, I'll keep you informed.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Georges.

Whenever you're ready.

My dear children...

my dear grandchildren...

I have had the great privilege
of living a full life

A life...

A beautiful life, in short.

And now that it's coming to an end,

I want to say goodbye to you.

I wish you a beautiful life, too,

with many encounters and...

That's all.

How was it?

Fine. That should work.

Manue,

the time has come
to say my goodbyes, hasn't it?

Careful, Dad.
Don't let the news get around.

Could you tell Simone?

- I haven't managed to.
- No, Dad. This is your decision, not mine.

Here.

I'll leave you to it.

So?

- Simone is totally against it.
- What a surprise.

She's coming to talk me out of it.

- From New York?
- Yes.

I thought of something.
Before I leave for Bern,

I'd like to dine with you and Serge

at Le Voltaire.

And see Thierry one last time.

- Who's Thierry?
- You know.

- My lovely little waiter.
- Right.

We can make a date to go before,

with Mom.

No!

- Hi, Sylvia.
- Hi, Emmanuèle.

- How are you?
- Fine. Your mother's resting.

Don't disturb her.
I need some papers from Dad's office.

You're here?

Sylvia said you were resting.

Hello.

Did Dad tell you?

Yes.

He was very emotional.

Were you?

Not too depressed?

No.

Not really.

- Will you go to Switzerland?
- Yes

With Pascale.

- And his Gérard?
- No.

Dad no longer wants to see him.

So he says.

Do you want to come?

No.

Bon voyage.

Mom...

Why didn't you leave Dad,
after all he put you through?

I loved him.

Silly girl.

Mom, why don't you ever use color?

Gray is a color, honey.

There are so many colors in gray.

There they here!
How are you?

Hello Simone, how are you?

- How's New York?
- Good.

- Nice to see you!
- It's been ages.

Hi, Simone.

Girls, I'm terribly shocked and angry.

Why, Simone?

André told us he can't change his mind.

Sure he can. Up to the last minute.

The Swiss lady was very clear.

And we keep telling him.
Right, Dad?

- Yeah...
- He said you two were sick of him.

You said enough was enough

and threatened to stop caring for him.

What?

You said all that?

How dare you?
Dad, look us in the eyes.

You actually said that?

I don't know, maybe.

Why say such a thing?

To be left alone.

La Couille...

THE TESTICLE

Nice job, Dad.

You fed us a bunch of lies?

Listen, André...

Remember our family.

After all we endured,

you can't do this to me.

You must keep living!

Surviving is not living.

Three!

Three.

Double.

Two!

One, two, three!

Now four.

Good. Breathe, breathe.

APRIL 15TH

- Look at Grandpa.
- What?

Hope he doesn't snore.

...with many encounters and...

That's all.

No good.

- No?
- His intention isn't clear.

You need to redo it.

I'm fed up, he's unbearable.

- I can do it.
- No, I'd rather it be me.

Give your notary a copy.

Don't tell him what it's for
or you'll make him an accomplice.

And I advise you not to go with him.

He should go alone.

But we can meet him there
and be by his side?

It's better if you arrive...

- after.
- After?

Yes, after.

He's right.

- Are you listening to me, Emmanuèle?
- Yes.

- You mentioned an apartment?
- That's what she said, yes.

She wants us there by 3 p.m.
for the formalities.

The ambulance will get Dad at the clinic
Wednesday the 26th at 10:30 p.m.

Driving normally,
they should be in Bern the next morning.

Do you realize?

- What?
- What we're doing for him.

Imagine if he'd
asked Shithead.

How would you feel?
Furious, right?

- I'm furious now.
- I'm furious, too.

We saw the lawyer.

He says, all the crap
you told your and everyone else

makes it too dangerous for us
to accompany you,

So if you really want to go,
you go alone.

We'll come later.

I prefer that anyway.

I'm out of here, goodbye.

- What's with her?
- She's had it.

Can you understand that?

I never understood your sister.
Except about music.

What's Georges say about my plan?

He says he'd never ask his kids,
he'd figure it out alone.

In a month, I'll be 85.

I can hardly move anymore

or do simple, everyday things.

I can no longer do
the things I loved.

I can no longer
travel with you, Rapael...

my grandson.

There's nothing more
I can give you.

If I were ten years younger,
I might fight

Then again, maybe not.

However,
I am sure of one thing.

I don't want to live this life,
in this state.

I'm not interested.

I've had enough.

I want to die.

This is my desire.

- Dad...
- Yes?

I saw you have a gun in your desk.

Oh, right.

That was because of Gérard.

What are you doing here?

I thought you'd left

Everything okay?

I...

I've decided not to go to Bern with you.

Emmanuèle,
I need to stay with Rapha and Noémie.

- Don't be mad at me.
- I am.

I'll need to answer their questions.

I'll be with you for all the rest.

APRIL 25TH

Here we are.

- Thank you.
- Bye, Mr. Bernheim!

See you later.

I'll have two starters.
The mushrooms and the foie gras.

- Very well.
- That's your good appetite.

Not even.

Hang on...

- And my Bordeaux, Thierry.
- Of course.

That's Thierry.

Easy, Dad!

Thank you, Thierry.

Tell me, Serge,
how are things with your film museum?

Great. Tomorrow
our Buñuel retrospective begins.

I'd love to see that film again,

where those boys

- beat up a beggar.
- Los Olvidados.

Great film.

To you, André.

To you, son.

To you, Dad.

To you, my daughter.

Our last meal.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

There.

This is exactly what I wanted.

- I'd love some more fries.
- Sure.

- André...
- Yes?

How are you?

Fine, fine.

Will we see you in Bayreuth this summer?

Not this summer.

What a shame.

Hope to see you soon, in any case.

- You bet.
- Goodbye.

Damned if I remember
who that old bat is.

Here comes dessert.

- Your chocolate mousse, André.
- Wonderful.

Thank you, Thierry.

- I have to go, I'll leave you two.
- So soon?

- See you tomorrow.
- D-Day.

See you tomorrow, son.

- See you later, my love.
- Bye.

- Dad...
- Yes?

Are you scared?

Of what?

Dying.

Absolutely not.

I'm ready.

Do you want to see Mom first?

With her heart of cement.

What's the point?

Your mother is already dead.

You look pretty today.

You look nice in red.

Thanks.

You were such an ugly child.

Yes, Pascale?

Sleeping?

Watching TV.

You?

I can't sleep.
What're you watching?

A horror film. Gore.

Any good?

I love it.

APRIL 26TH

Pascale,

- you're not with Dad?
- He's with him.

- Who?
- Mistress.

- Dad said to let him up.
- When?

About an hour ago.

So?

We'll give them a little longer.

Until the ambulance comes...

- Serge?
- No, thanks.

Here he comes.

- Good evening.
- Good evening, Gérard.

Call me tomorrow with news.

Of course.

- He gave it to me.
- What?

- So he got it?
- Yes.

Good riddance.

Gérard wanted to come
in the ambulance, but I said no.

- No crybabies.
- Want some?

- What is it?
- Whiskey.

It'll make me sick.

I have to go.

Goodbye, André.

Adieu, son.

Goodbye.

- Call me.
- I will.

Be brave.

Did you bring my suit?

Yes.

- Is my Legion of Honor on it?
- Yes, Dad.

Yes?

Ladies,
can we talk?

Sure.

- We'll be back, Dad.
- Okay.

I just got a call from the police.

- Really?
- Someone filed a complaint.

For what?

Your father is about to take
an ambulance To Switzerland.

Are you aware of that?

We know he's leaving Paris
to handle some personal affairs.

He's allowed to go out, right?

No one can stop him.
Except the police,

Who called the police?

I don't know. They didn't tell me.

We need to ask your father
a few questions.

Wait here.
Excuse me.

- That fucking American cousin!
- You think?

- I'm sure.
- No, they went home.

Maybe not.

Let's call it off.
Dad can't be mad, it's not our fault.

We must cancel the ambulance,
they can't come here.

- Ladies, you may go in.
- Thank you.

- What's going on?
- Someone alerted the police.

- Who?
- One of the many people you told!

You may not be able to go.
The police can stop you.

This can't be happening!

We have to get him out of here now.

- This is so awful!
- Dad, calm down!

Hello?

Yes, it's me.

No, we're planning to take
our father out for dinner. That's allowed.

Very well.

No need.
I'll tell her myself.

Goodbye.

You and I have to see the police at 9.

- I've got my Buñuel retrospective--
- There's no one at Pascale's

Go home, wait for the taxi,
pay and take Dad upstairs.

Please, Serge, it's important

Thank you, my love.

Go.

10 Rue des Moulins
in the 1st arrondissement.

See you later, Dad.

- Goodbye.
- Bye, thank you.

- What are you doing?
- Deleting Swiss messages.

- You never know...
- Good idea.

We reek of whiskey.

Shit.
I've got what we need.

Great.

Good evening.

We're here to see Captain Petersen.

- The sisters?
- Yes.

- Captain Petersen?
- Yes.

- Good evening, ladies.
- Good evening.

Mr. Bernheim's daughters?

Yes.

A complaint was filed.
We need to question you.

You haven't been accused yet,
but I advise you to answer.

- What do we risk?
- Five years in prison

and 75,000 euros
for endangerment.

Article 223-6 of the Criminal Code.

Sorry, I have to take this.

Go ahead, Georges.

Hello?

A complaint was filed?

- Pass me the captain.
- Right away.

Mr. Kiejmann wants to speak to you.

Good evening, sir.

Separately.
I know, but the prosecutor...

Me neither.

I know. I know.
Here she is. Goodbye.

He wants to speak to you.

- Hello?
- Emmanuèle, tell the truth.

- You two must say the same thing.
- Right.

- Call me back if need be.
- Okay, thanks.

Will it fit?

No, it won't.

I'm screwed,
I should've shot myself.

Relax, André, it'll be okay.

The wheelchair
doesn't fit in the elevator.

Are you sure?

- Yes. What do we do?
- Go to the café.

- We can't--
- I can't talk, I'm with the police.

Why did your father ask you?

Because I'm his daughter.

- The desire to die is his?
- Yes.

- When did he first tell you?
- September, I think.

Has he told other people?

My mother, a cousin and...

...close friends, I suppose.

Why didn't you
refuse to help?

You can't refuse my father anything.

- Did you try to talk him out of it?
- Yes.

But he's stubborn.

How did you contact
the Swiss association?

My sister did that,
via Internet, I think.

A friend told me about them.

Who inherits your father's estate?

My sister and I.

- Your parent' marriage contract?
- Joint ownership.

- Your mother's role in this?
- None.

None.

She's too ill.

Any proof of your father's intention?

My sister filmed him on her phone.

Who has the video?

- The notary.
- Who delivered it?

My sister.

When was your father meant to leave?

The ambulance
was scheduled for 10:30 p.m.

- Where is he now?
- My place.

I'll call the prosecutor now.
I won't be long.

- Are you okay?
- Yes, you?

- Exhausted.
- Me too.

Excuse me.

Yes?

Can you tell us who turned us in?

I'm not allowed.

I can't believe it was family.
Not even the cousins.

Maybe the clinic,
to cover themselves.

I know who.

- Who?
- Shithead.

Sir?

Did you take my complaint
against Gérard Boisrond?

- You remember?
- I said nothing.

I spoke to the prosecutor.
You may go.

Don't resist.

I'm a real featherweight now!

- Serge, what happened to you?
- Sorry, André.

Don't be.

- Hang on..
- It's rather nice.

Hang on..

If Emmanuèle saw us...

It's okay, you can come.

My place, 10 Rue des Moulins.

When?

Half an hour.

Half an hour.

Dad's wheelchair.

Here they are.

Where were you?

The police station,
thanks to you.

Keep quiet now.
Don't tell the drivers.

Not too difficult, I hope?

You dad panicked
and so did I.

- But all is well.
- I'm sorry.

Get some sleep.
Pascale's here, we'll be fine.

As you like, my love.

Thanks.

No answer.

So, Dad...

You will leave.

But if George feels it's too risky,
we call the drivers and you come.

There is no way I'm coming back!

The drivers!

Finally!

- Hi, come in.
- 'Evening, ma'am.

'Evening, Mr. Bernheim.

- I hoped it was you.
- We're your guys!

This is for the border,
and this for the person in Bern.

Shall we, boys?

One, two, three...

Careful.

Wait. Manue,

I left my sleeping pills
at the clinic.

I got you some Stilnox.

- Take it during the ride.
- No, now.

Dad.

If you have any problems,
you've got our numbers?

Yes, don't worry.

Everything's coming together.

Hand me the chair.

Thanks.

- Shall I go first?
- Sure.

I'm very comfortable.

Good.

Don't tell your sister, but this story

would be great
for one of her novels.

You're silly!

Goodbye, Dad.

Here.

Blue suits you.

You're handsome.

My drivers are cute.

Yes.

Dad...

No crybabies.

Goodbye, my daughter.

Goodbye, Dad.

One last thing.

What?

I'd like...

I'd like you to find out...

who screwed me over.

- Do we tell him?
- No.

We promise, Dad.

My girls...

Goodnight, ladies.
Goodnight.

Are you okay? Drunk?

Can I sleep over?

Of course.
But what about the kids?

I want to be with you.

They're with their dad.

So, what do we do?

- Thanks.
- I'm calling your daughters to ask.

It's my decision, not theirs.

- But you should've told us.
- What do you care?

I'm a Muslim, sir,
It's against my religion.

Screw that bullshit.

I am a Jew.
Who gives a damn about religion?

I do, sorry.

The trip ends here for me.

Are you religious?

Kind of.

Can you drive?

Why are you doing this, Mr. Bernheim?

Yeah.

Why do you want to die?

Life is beautiful.

- Hi, baby.
- You okay?

Your sister slept over?

Yes. We drank last night.

You did right.

Pascale and I think
Gérard turned us in.

Why would he do that?

Revenge?

To stop Dad from leaving.

Out of love.

- I'm here.
- I know.

Hello?

- Mrs. Bernheim?
- Yes.

- Is this her?
- Yes.

- Put her on speaker.
- Hello?

- Hang on...
- Ms. Bernheim?

Yes.

Your father was in excellent mood.

The first potion
he drank without a problem.

And at the second, bitter drink...

He said he prefers Champagne.

Then we put on music.

A piano sonata...

by Brahms.

And he fell asleep.
Peacefully.

Were you with him when he...?

Yes. Everything went fine.

I held his hand.

His left hand.

There's no need for you to come.

The police came,
the undertakers are coming.

All the formalities are in order.

Goodbye, madam.

Goodbye, Ms. Bernheim.

So?

She said,
"Everything went fine."

BASED ON A BIOGRAPHY OF EMMANUÈLE BERNHEIM

SCRIPT AND DIRECTION:
FRANCOIS OZON