Original subtitles

Subtitles by: OOYYO.NET

On September 3, 1973

a blue fly capable of flapping 70 beats in a minute

landed on St. Vincent Street in Montmartre.

At that moment, on a restaurant terrace nearby

the wind magically made two glasses dance unseen

on a table cover.

Meanwhile, in a 5th-floor flat on Avenue Trudaine, Paris 9

returning from his best friend's funeral

Eugene Colere erased him from his address book.

At the same moment, a sperm with one X chromosome

belonging to Raphael Poulain

made a dash for an egg in his wife Amandine.

Nine months later

Amelie Poulain was born.

AMELIE FROM MONTMARTRE

Her father, an ex-Army doctor

works at a spa at Enghien Les Bains.

TIGHT LIPS, HARD HEART

Raphael Poulain dislikes peeing next to someone else.

He also dislikes

catching scornful glances at his sandals

clingy wet swimming trunks.

Raphael Poulain likes

peeling large strips of wallpaper

lining up, and shining his shoes,

emptying his toolbox,

cleaning it out,

and putting everything back.

Amelie's mother

a schoolmistress from Grugeon

has always had shaky nerves.

FACIAL TWITCH, WEAK NERVES

She dislikes puckered fingers in the bath,

having her hands touched by strangers,

pillow marks on her cheek in the morning.

Amandine Poulain likes figure skaters' costumes on TV

polishing the parquet,

emptying her handbag,

cleaning it out

and putting everything back.

Amelie is six.

Like all little girls, she'd like to be hugged by her Daddy.

But he never touches her, except for a monthly checkup.

The thrill of this rare contact

makes her heart beat like a drum.

As a result, he thinks she has a heart defect.

Declared unfit for school

Amelie is taught by her mother.

The hens brood here henceforth.

- Four hens brood - Very good.

- Hens fourth. - No!

Deprived of playmates

slung between a neurotic and an iceberg

Amelie retreats into her imagination.

In this world, LPs are made like pancakes.

The neighbor's comatose wife

has chosen to get all her life's sleep in one go.

After this, I can stay awake day and night.

Amelie has one friend, Blubber.

Alas, the home environment has made Blubber suicidal.

Blubber's suicide attempts destroy Mother's nerves.

A decision is made.

Enough!

To comfort Amelie, her mother gives her a used Instamatic.

Little girl, look what you did!

A neighbor fools her

into thinking her camera causes accidents.

Having taken pictures all afternoon

Amelie is petrified.

She stares at the TV, racked by the guilt

of causing a huge fire,

two derailments,

a jumbo jet crash.

A few days later

realizing she'd been fooled

Amelie gets her revenge.

What?!

One day, tragedy strikes.

Amandine takes Amelie to Notre Dame

to pray for a baby brother.

Minutes later, heaven sends

alas, not a baby boy

but Marguerite, a tourist from Quebec

bent on ending her life.

Amandine dies instantly.

After her mother's death

Amelie lives alone with her father.

His unsociable tendencies increase.

He's obsessed with building a miniature shrine

to house his wife's ashes.

Days, months, and years go by.

In such a dead world, Amelie prefers to dream

she'll earn enough to leave home.

Five years later, she's a waitress in Montmartre

at the Two Windmills.

It's August 29th.

In 48 hours, her life will change forever

but she doesn't know it yet.

She lives quietly among her coworkers and regulars.

Suzanne, the owner

limps a little but never spills a drink.

A former bareback artiste, she likes

athletes who cry with disappointment.

She dislikes seeing men

humiliated in front of their kids.

Georgette, the tobacconist, is a hypochondriac

migraines one day, sciatica the next.

She hates the words, "fruit of thy womb."

Gina works with Amelie. Her grandma was a healer.

She likes cracking bones.

She brings a kir to Hipolito, a failed writer.

He likes seeing bullfighters gored on TV.

Scowling at them is Joseph, Gina's rejected lover.

He's always jealously spying on her.

All he likes is popping bubble wrap.

Here's Philomene, an air hostess.

Amelie keeps her cat when she's away.

Philomene likes

the sound of the cat's bowl on the tiles.

The cat likes overhearing children's stories.

No, thanks, ma'am. I never work Sundays.

On weekends, Amelie often takes a train to see her father.

- Why not use your retirement? - To do what?

Travel. You've never been away.

When we were young, your mother and I longed to travel.

We couldn't, because of your heart.

I know.

So, now

Now

Some Fridays, Amelie sees a movie.

I like looking back at people's faces in the dark.

I like noticing details that no one else sees

but I hate it in old movies

when drivers don't watch the road.

You know, you're a very beautiful woman, Ellie.

- Why, Stan! - A very, very beautiful woman.

Amelie has no boyfriend.

She tried once or twice, but the results were a letdown.

Instead, she cultivates a taste for small pleasures:

Dipping her hand into sacks of grain

cracking cr\E8me brulee with a teaspoon

and skipping stones at St. Martin's Canal.

They call him "the Glass Man."

He was born with bones as brittle as crystal.

All his furniture is padded.

A handshake could crush his fingers.

He's stayed inside for twenty years.

Time has changed nothing.

Amelie still seeks solitude.

She amuses herself with silly questions

about the world below

such as, "how many couples are having an orgasm now?"

Fifteen!

Finally, on August 30, 1997

comes the event that changes her life forever.

Lady Di, Princess of Wales

died in a car crash last night

with her companion Dodi Al-Fayed.

Only the discoverer of Tutankhamen's tomb

would know how she felt

upon finding this treasure

hidden by a little boy 40 years ago.

On August 31 st at 4:00 a. M

Amelie had a dazzling idea.

Wherever he was, she would find the box's owner

and give him back his treasure.

If he was touched, she'd become a regular do-gooder.

If not, too bad.

The girl from the fifth floor.

We don't see much of you.

Would you know of a boy who lived in my flat in the Fifties?

A boy? Have a glass of port.

- No, thanks. - Come in! Close the door.

Boys? I've known so many.

They're cute

until they discover snowballs and chestnuts.

I've known so many boys.

When did you come here?

In '64.

You'll have heard the story?

No.

I'm amazed. Sit down.

My husband worked for Ladybird Insurance.

It's no secret he slept with his secretary.

They used every hotel around.

Not cheap ones, either.

The bimbo liked spreading her legs

but only on satin

so he swiped from the till

a little at first, then 50 million.

Off they flew to Panama.

Drink up.

On January 20, 1970

my doorbell rang.

"Your husband's been killed in a car crash in South America."

My life stopped there.

Black Lion died of heartbreak.

Poor creature.

See how lovingly he stares at his master?

I'll read you his letters.

Don't go!

You can spare 5 minutes.

He wrote this from the Army camp.

"Darling Mado"

That's me Madeleine.

"I can't sleep, can't eat

"knowing that my only reason to live is far away in Paris

"and I won't see her until next Friday

"when my sweet little weasel appears at the station

"in her blue dress."

In brackets"the one you think is too transparent."

Did anyone ever write you like that?

I'm nobody's little weasel.

My name is Madeleine Wells.

Madeleine, like Mary Magdalene.

She wept, right?

Wells, as in water. Talk about being born to cry!

About your question

ask Collignon, the grocer. He's lived here all his life.

Hello, Amelie-mellow!

A fig and three nuts, as usual?

Who lived in my flat in the Fifties?

What was their name?

You've got me there, dear.

In 1950, I was two the mental age of a cretin.

The "cretin" is Lucien.

He's no genius, but Amelie likes him.

She likes the way

he handles each endive like a precious object

to be treated with care. It's his way of showing

his love of good work.

Look at him!

Like he's nursing a baby bird!

Don't ask him for currants.

You'd be here till Monday!

Get moving, spastic!

She hasn't got all day!

Go see my mother. She has an elephant's memory.

Elephant mom!

Thank you.

Bredoteau.

Pardon?

The name you're after.

But if I say it, it won't count. I'm senile.

Ignore him. He's senile.

See what he's done to my laurel?

His old job was punching metro tickets.

Now he gets up every night

to punch holes in my laurel!

Too bad it's not hardy.

We all need a way to relax.

I skip stones.

- You do? - I'll find it, don't worry.

I'm very organized.

- I like everything. - Like what?

Your son's nearly fifty, and I'm still doing

his bookkeeping!

You were still squeezing his toothpaste at fifteen.

- It follows. - Camus

second floor, Broussard was on B block

Got it!

Bredoteau, fifth floor.

They were northerners.

Bredoteau.

What more I can say?

How could I live

Never to know the joy that you give

When I'm in your arms

I'm under your charms

How could I live

Without you

Groping under the photo booth

is Nino Quincampoix.

When Amelie lacked playmates, Nino had too many.

Five miles apart, they both dreamed

of having a brother and sister

to be with all the time.

Hi, Dad.

A new friend?

I've had him for years.

Your mother hated him, so he lived in the tool shed.

There. Let's reconcile them.

There. How about that?

Dad, if you found a precious relic from your childhood

how would you feel? Happy? Sad? Nostalgic?

This gnome isn't a relic.

He was a retirement gift from my old regiment.

No, I mean something you hid, like a secret treasure.

I should varnish him before the autumn.

I'll make some tea. You want some?

Breathe in. Hold still.

Better now?

Shut the door!

There's a howling gale.

It's not Siberia.

You're not allergic to car fumes!

I almost coughed up my pleura last night.

Cough up a pleura?

- What's on today, Suzanne? - Endives au gratin.

They'll have you on your knees.

That's good?

- Depends where you fall. - Lf in front of the toilet

Not good.

12:15 laughs orgasmically to attract alpha male.

He's gonna drive me berserk.

Can't he give up? There are plenty of other bars!

Good-bye.

Madame Suzanne?

Madame Suzanne?

"Au gratin" means white sauce, right?

Yes. Why?

I can't stomach it, like you and horse meat.

It's not my stomach, it's my memory.

I'd rather cook human flesh.

You're kidding.

Madame Suzanne, can I leave early today?

What's his name?

Dominique Bredoteau.

Hello.

You're Dominique Bredoteau?

That's me.

Why?

It's about the petition.

Petition?

Yes. The petition to

to canonize Lady Di!

No, thanks.

No.

Ladies and gentlemen

sorry to bother you

Yes?

Hello. I'm looking for Dominique Bredoteau

for the European census.

Come up, third floor.

Hello, kitten.

Earl Grey?

Jasmine?

What will you have?

I'm busy.

Here. Coming!

Where can I find Dominique Bredoteau?

Poor dear! You just missed him.

Look, there he goes now.

Bretod-eau.

Not Bredot-eau.

You need a little mulled wine.

Come in.

I've lived here for five years. I never saw you before.

I never go out on the landing.

I'm fussy about who I meet.

They're all bums.

Come in.

They call me the Glass Man

but my name is Raymond Dufayel.

Amelie Poulain. I'm a waitress at

The Two Windmills. I know.

And right now, your Bredoteau basket is empty.

Because it's not "do." It's "to."

Like "Toto."

I love that painting.

It's the Luncheon of the Boating Party.

By Renoir.

I've painted one each year for twenty years.

The hardest part is the looks.

I sometimes feel like

they deliberately change their mood behind my back.

They look quite happy.

They should be!

They're eating hare with morels

and waffles with jam for the kids.

Now, where's that piece of paper?

You've noticed my video camera.

A gift from my sister-in-law.

I put it there

so I don't need to wind up my clocks.

After all these years

the only person I still can't capture

is the girl with the glass of water.

She's in the middle, yet she's outside.

Maybe she's just different.

In what way?

I don't know.

When she was little, she rarely played with other kids.

Maybe never.

Dominique

Dominique Bretodeau, 27 Rue Mouffetard.

It's for you.

Every Tuesday morning

Dominique Bretodeau buys a chicken.

He roasts it with potatoes.

After carving the legs and wings

he loves picking the hot carcass with his fingers

starting with the oysters.

But not today. Bretodeau won't buy a chicken.

He'll go no further than this phone booth here.

In a flash, it all came back

Bahamontes winning the Tour de France.

Aunt Josette's slips.

And most of all, the tragic day

The day he won all the marbles.

The pinch, Bretodeau!

Bretodeau, does he know what it is?

Cognac, please.

Amazing, what just happened.

It must be my guardian angel.

The phone booth was calling me

Same here! The microwave's calling me.

I'll have another cognac.

Life's funny.

To a kid, time always drags. Suddenly you're fifty.

All that's left of your childhood

fits in a rusty little box.

You got kids, Miss?

I have a daughter about your age.

We haven't spoken for years.

I heard she had a child, a boy.

His name is Lucas.

It's time I looked them up, before I'm in a box myself.

Don't you think?

Amelie has a strange feeling of absolute harmony.

It's a perfect moment. Soft light

a scent in the air, the quiet murmur of the city.

She breathes deeply. Life is simple and clear.

A surge of love, an urge to help mankind comes over her.

Let me help you. Step down. Here we go!

The drum major's widow!

She's worn his coat since the day he died.

The horse's head has lost an ear!

That's the florist laughing. He has crinkly eyes.

In the bakery window, lollipops.

Smell that! They're giving out melon slices.

Sugarplum ice cream!

We're passing the park butcher.

Ham, 79 francs. Spareribs, 45!

Now the cheese shop. Picadors are 12.90. Cabecaus 23.50.

A baby's watching a dog that's watching the chickens.

Now we're at the kiosk by the metro.

I'll leave you here. Bye!

"She can't relate to other people."

"She was always a lonely child."

On a sparkling evening in July

while on the beaches, holiday hordes

relax in the new-found sun

and Paris's sweltering denizens

gaze at the star bursts of the traditional fireworks

Amelie Poulain

Godmother of Outcasts, Madonna of the Unloved

finally succumbed to exhaustion.

In Paris's stricken streets

a countless throng of mourners

lined her funeral route in silence

with the measureless grief of newly orphaned children.

What a strange destiny for one who gave her all

yet took such joy in life's simple pleasures.

Like Don Quixote, she pitted herself

against the grinding windmills of all life's miseries.

It was a losing battle

that claimed her life too soon. At barely 23, Amelie Poulain

let her young, tired body merge

with the ebb and flow of universal woe.

As she went, she felt a stab of regret

for letting her father die

without trying to give his stifled life

the breath of air she had given

to so many others.

Wait!

Wait!

Wait!

Wait! Wait! Wait!

Wait! Wait!

Pages full of dual ID photos

torn up and discarded by their owners

carefully reassembled by some oddball.

Some family album!

A pack of Gaulaises.

Just a second. It's so smoky in here.

Where are they? I can't see a thing.

More to the left. More

You need change.

Forget it.

A mauresque for the young man.

One kir, one mauresque, and two mint sodas.

Was that prenuptial or post-smooching?

Are you a congenital schmuck?

- Prenuptial. - Don't worry.

You'll find your Mr. Right one day.

All women want to sleep on a man's shoulder.

All men snore after a few drinks

and I have a musical ear.

I had my nasal cavities fixed.

I see you're a born romantic.

I see you've never known true love.

I did. It shortened my leg.

I thought you fell off a horse.

I did.

I was in love with a trapeze artist.

Stupid me. They always drop you at the last minute.

He dropped me just before my act.

It floored me. Plus the horse

with me under it.

The mauresque?

Still, true love does exist.

I know. After 30 years behind a bar

I'm an expert. I'll even give you the recipe.

Take two regulars

mix them together and let them stew.

It never fails.

Excuse me!

Excuse me!

I'll go.

Haven't you hurt enough people?

Gina can defend herself.

I don't mean Gina. I mean Georgette.

Look! She craves your attention

but all you can see is Gina.

Poor girl! The things she does

to catch your eye!

You really must be blind.

I'm off on a date. Bye!

Whoever her new one is

he can't be worse than that nut with his tape recorder.

Joseph's not so nutty.

He's just in pain.

Come on! They split up two months ago.

To keep on coming here, he must be a masochist.

Don't say you haven't noticed.

Noticed what?

Well, he always sits here, right?

At number 8?

Sit down.

Sit down, Georgette.

What can you see?

My cigarette counter.

Nothing's missing?

Well, no.

Make an effort.

I can't see what!

Think about it. Good night.

Letter Arrives 30 Years Late.

A mailbag found by climbers on a glacier on Mont Blanc

was part of a cargo

lost in a plane crash in the late 1960s.

So sad. A young, pretty princess for once.

It's OK if she's old and ugly?

Sure! Look at Mother Teresa.

Is he still chasing Gina?

No, he has somebody else.

Anyone I know?

Funny about this glacier

Somebody at the Two Windmills?

Not you!

Not Suzanne

- No! - Yes.

There he is again.

How strange.

- And here. - "Him again!"

"Lyon Station."

And here. "March 5, Austerlitz."

Always the same blank face. Always neutral.

Twelve times.

I counted. It's very odd.

Why keep taking your picture all over town

and throw them away?

Good one, too.

It's like a ritual.

He's probably terrified of growing old.

It's his only consolation.

He's dead!

He's scared of being forgotten.

He wants to remind people of his face.

Like faxing his portrait from the afterlife.

A dead man scared of being forgotten.

These guys here have it made!

They're long dead

but they'll never be forgotten.

The girl with the glass

Maybe her thoughts are with somebody else.

Somebody in the picture?

More likely a boy she saw somewhere

and felt an affinity with.

You mean she'd rather imagine herself

relating to an absent person

than build relationships

with those around her?

Maybe she tries hard to fix other people's messy lives.

What about her?

Her own messy life?

Who'll fix that?

It's better to help people than a garden gnome.

The trucker had 2.8 grams of alcohol in his blood!

Makes me sick.

Talk about employing irresponsible morons!

- Your keys. - Hold on, Mello.

Speed kills nowadays.

Model yourself on Lucien.

No radar will ever catch him while he's working!

Shame on you, Mr. Collignon.

It's not his fault.

True, Mrs. Couchoix.

It's not his fault he can't sleep.

It's Lady Di's.

Guess what I found in the truck?

A lingerie catalog.

He'd pasted Lady Di's face over the model's!

What today? Five asparagus

or more local history?

Nothing.

KEYS CUT WHILE YOU WAIT

The migraine's better?

Yes, but my sciatica kept me awake all night.

It's ages since I saw you looking so good.

Oh, yeah?

"A woman without love wilts like a flower without sun."

Strange weather today!

What's so funny?

You're only the 100th one to say it.

We pass the time of day to forget how time passes.

We do it to keep from taking crap.

I write crap that nobody publishes.

- Another rejection? - My 30th!

Isn't your cousin a book critic?

Forget it! Critics are like leeches

sucking the blood of writers.

Is your book

a love story?

It's about a guy who keeps a journal.

Not about his past

but about disasters in his future.

So he gets depressed and does nothing.

Basically, it's about a loafer.

I'll dedicate the manuscript to you.

So you'll write off his tab.

His scribbles for my nibbles. That's sponsorship.

What took you so long?

Look at the time!

Somebody peed in his mother!

FOOT CREAM

TOOTHPASTE

"Without you, today's emotions

"would be the scurf of yesterday's."

"Without you, today's emotion's

"would be the scurf of yesterday's."

Without you, today's emotions

would be the scurf of yesterday's.

Tickets, please.

How's work?

You asked me already.

You OK these days?

Pretty much.

I feel a change.

I had two heart attacks, an abortion, did crack

while I was pregnant.

Other than that, I'm fine.

Good.

Something wrong?

No, nothing.

Your gnome's gone.

Is he back in the tool shed?

Moscow.

There. See?

No explanation.

He wants to see the world?

I can't understand it.

LOST

BAG

PHOTOS

Any normal girl would call the number

meet him, return the album

and see if her dream is viable.

It's called a reality check. The last thing Amelie wants.

I say!

Could she be falling in love?

Where's the boss?

Sleeping in the cauliflower.

What?

Sleeping in the cauliflower.

You want me want what?

A scratch card, please.

How does it work?

Tell you what.

Let's both do one together.

You scratch it here

sideways.

Nothing. You?

Me, neither.

Unlucky at cards

So they say.

I have to get back.

Yes.

Porno Video Palace.

I'm calling about the ad.

- You're over 18? - Yes.

- Shaved? - Sorry?

Are you shaved? Fur pie doesn't sell.

How's life, Mrs. Wells?

When you've nothing to live for

Come on, life's great!

Dream on, kid.

Hello, Mr. Dufayel.

Here's your order, Mr. Dufayel.

I doubt it. I hate artichokes.

You shouldn't. Watch this.

Take it.

That's better.

Lucien, you're a wizard!

Courtesy of Mr. Collignon.

Mister Collignon?

Sorry, it slipped out.

Practice, Lucien!

Practice! Repeat after me.

Collignon, down the john.

Collignon, down the john.

Your turn now. Collignon

Collignon, big moron!

See? You can do it.

Collignon, dead and gone!

Very good!

Collignon, big moron, down the john!

OK! That's enough for today.

Lucien, that's enough!

Very good.

I found this under your mat.

Still no win!

Me, neither.

May I?

There's a little

You're gorgeous when you blush.

Like a wild flower.

It's my dyspepsia.

Morning, all!

Beautiful day.

Pack of Gitanes, please.

Bravo! Vive la France! You scalded me!

Ten out of ten! Bull's-eye!

It was Amelie, she

When they went up Mont Blanc

the silicon in her face froze up.

Her face was a festering mass!

Mulled wine and spice cookies.

I was too hard on the girl with the glass.

Tell me about that boy she saw. Did they meet again?

They're into different things.

Luck is like the Tour de France.

You wait, and it flashes past you.

You have to catch it while you can.

Can I help you?

Excuse me. I found this in the street.

Nino will be glad!

He was so sad the other day.

I almost prayed to St. Anthony!

Is Nino here now?

On Wednesdays he works at the funfair.

How long has he had this collection?

Since I got him the job here, last year.

Before, he collected footprints. He worked nights.

In the daytime, he took pictures of footprints in wet cement.

He's a funny guy.

When we met, he was a Santa Claus.

Other things, like

whenever he heard a funny laugh, he'd tape it.

Gosh!

Must be hard for his girlfriend.

He never keeps them long.

Times are hard for dreamers.

Eva! Are those coffees coming?

Gotta go. Thanks for the album.

It's OK. I have time to take it to the funfair.

Suit yourself. The Ghost Train. Ask for Nino Quincompoix.

Is Nino here?

He doesn't get in till 7:00.

Is there no way to see him before?

Sure. 20 francs.

See you next Wednesday.

5 p.m. Tomorrow, Montmartre carousel.

Bring 5 francs.

Want to know about her?

- You know her? - You bet!

She put us in her shirt pocket.

Next to her breast.

- Is she pretty? - Not bad.

- Beautiful. - No. Pretty.

- Beautiful! - Pretty.

- What does she want from me? - She's broke.

She wants a reward for the album.

Or else she collects photos, too.

She wants to trade us for a one-eyed man with glasses!

No, you dope!

She's in love.

- I don't even know her. - You do.

Since when?

Since always.

In your dreams.

You! Man with the plastic bag! It's for you.

Follow the blue arrows, Mr. Quincompoix.

The fool looks at a finger that points at the sky

I know the stranger in the pictures.

He's a ghost. He's invisible!

He only appears when the film is developed.

When a girl has her photo taken

he goes "Wooo!" in her ear

while he fondles her neck.

That's how he got caught, Mr. Quincompoix!

Who are you?

Page St.

DO YOU

WANT

TO MEET ME?

Listen to this. "Boy of 6, while parents sleep

"drives off in a pedal car.

"Found on a highway in Germany

"he told police he wanted to see the stars."

Ain't life beautiful, though?

Love. The only bug she hadn't caught.

- Nobody's immune. - It gives me a break.

Love's a great beautician.

What's she like? Tall, small? Fair, dark?

Let's say average height.

Not a dwarf or a giraffe. Normal.

Pretty, for her type.

As for fair or dark, it's hard to say.

She wasn't a redhead. Unless

Forget it.

I remember she casually asked about your girlfriend.

And?

I said you weren't interested, right?

You didn't!

What do you care? You don't even know her.

- Exactly. It's the mystery. - You won't find mystery here.

A pound of nectarines.

The ones here are the prettiest.

Trust him. He's an artist.

He goes home with a ton of unsold stock.

What for? Is he stewing a pig?

No, sir! He's studying art!

Sells leeks all day long and paints turnips all night!

The boy's a useless vegetable!

With a prompter

in each cellar window whispering comebacks

shy people would have the last laugh.

At least you'll never be a vegetable!

Even artichokes have hearts.

You'll never be a vegetable. Even artichokes have hearts!

"Darling Mado, I miss you more and more each day.

"I'm an exile in a world of dreary khaki.

"I can't sleep, can't eat

"This camp was the mistake of my life

"depriving me of my beloved for five long weeks.

"I think of you endlessly. Your Adrien."

"I turned down my last month's wages instead of giving notice.

"I dream of better times ahead.

"An orange-colored day. Remember, my love?

"Your everloving Adrien."

"Good news, sweetheart.

"Soon I'll be able to afford a car

"and drive home every night.

"Till then, meet me on Friday, and we'll go out."

MOTHER

Psychiatric Helpline.

WHERE & WHEN?

One hour later, on Boulevard St. Martin

Amelie walks into a party goods and costume shop.

At the same time, a man leaves his home on Rue Lecourbe.

26 minutes later, Amelie is at East Station.

Simultaneously, the man in red shoes parks outside.

The time is exactly 11:40.

At this precise moment

only Amelie has the key to the riddle of the mystery man.

How's it going, Mrs. Wells?

Not so bad when it's not raining.

- This is for you. - Me?

"Dear Mrs. Wells, we recently recovered a mailbag

"that was lost in a plane crash

"on October 12th, 1969, on Mont Blanc.

"We are forwarding the enclosed letter to your address

"with our apologies for the uncustomary delay.

"Jacques Grasjeau, Customer Services."

"Darling Mado, I'm in exile. I can't sleep, can't eat

"I think of you endlessly.

"I know I've made the mistake of my life.

"I turned down that woman's money.

"If all goes well, I'll soon be able to afford a house.

"I dream of better times ahead

"when you'll forgive me and join me here

"one orange-colored day. Your everloving Adrien."

Another package for you.

You heard about the concierge?

She got a letter.

From her husband, 40 years late.

That's a lot, isn't it?

I'm not big on still life, Mr. Dufayel.

Then work on your lean layer.

Fat over lean. Always!

I heard there'll soon be a new star.

You're into stars now?

I saw it on TV at my ma's, that's why.

I dunno if it's true.

In America

they'll take rich people's ashes

put them in a satellite

and shoot it into space.

It's going to shine forever.

And Lady Di

will they do the same for her?

Lady Di! Lady Di! Give it a rest!

I can't concentrate!

Lady Di! Lady Di!

Renoir!

I don't understand.

Brilliant! You were perfect.

Did it work?

It's getting there.

Ask me again anytime. The harm's done.

- Harm? - Everybody calls me Snow White!

The Two Windmills at 4 p.m.

Could you stand in for me at 4:00?

Again?

What's eating him?

- I smile too much. - He'd rather you frowned?

With other men, yes.

Nino is late. Amelie can only see two explanations.

1 He didn't get the photo.

2 Before he could assemble it

a gang of bank robbers took him hostage.

The cops gave chase.

They got away but he caused a crash.

When he came to, he'd lost his memory.

An ex-con picked him up

mistook him for a fugitive and shipped him to Istanbul.

There he met some Afghan raiders

who took him to steal some Russian warheads.

But their truck hit a mine in Tajikistan.

He survived, took to the hills

and became a Mujaheddin.

Amelie refuses to get upset for a guy

who'll eat borscht all his life in a hat like a tea cozy.

- What can I get you? - Coffee, please.

TODAY'S MENU

He's understood.

He's going to put down his spoon

dip his finger in the sugar

turn around slowly and speak to me.

Is this you?

Yes, it's you.

- More coffee? - No thanks.

So it's this man here, with his hand up?

Is she in love with him?

I think it's time she took a real risk.

She might. She's devising a stratagem.

She's fond of stratagems.

In fact, she's cowardly.

That's why I can't capture her look.

Dufayel's attempts to meddle are intolerable!

If Amelie chooses to live in a dream

and remain an introverted young woman

she has an absolute right to mess up her life!

What are you doing?

Tell me, Lucien.

For deliveries, do you keep keys to all the apartments?

One of your booths is out of order.

It seems to be jammed.

East Station ticket hall.

Buy a video, get one free?

Samantha?

Can you stand in for me at

Photo booth. East Station. Tuesday 5 p.m.

Almost done.

The mystery man wasn't a ghost or a man scared of aging

but simply the repairman

a normal technician doing his work.

He keeps spying on me. It's making me sick.

4:05: Blatant female conspiracy.

Gosh, you're tense!

Good luck. You'll need it.

Excuse me. Did you put this in my pocket?

- Yes, but it's not from me. - I know. Where is she?

She's at her father's.

It bothers me. Can I talk to you?

I get off at 6:00.

- Can you come back? - OK.

See you then.

4:08: Docking scheduled.

A blond guy in a camel coat. Absent-minded, too.

How come?

He came back three times the same day.

1:12

Camel coat.

2:50

Camel coat.

- 4:17. - Stop it!

My rash has come back! Look. Suzanne!

My rash is back. He's driving me nuts!

Lay off!

Her conscience is at fault.

I've had it! I'm going home.

Psychos are the last straw!

Stop smothering them. Women need air.

You give them air, they blow you off.

Fresh air's healthy.

Cram it, failure!

Failed writer, failed life

I love the word "fail."

Failure is human destiny.

It's gasbag time!

Failure teaches us that life is but a draft

a long rehearsal for a show that will never play.

I bet he stole that.

I do have some original ideas

but people always steal them.

Same as your women.

Meaning?

You'd better get used to it.

Speak for yourself, you

- What's going on? - Nothing much.

Georgette went out, Joseph got mad.

"Went out"?

Like Gina. You know who Gina's with?

The guy with the plastic bag!

I saw their little game.

The note in the coat pocket.

4:08.

Back he comes, and hey presto! Out they go.

I'm worried for Amelie because I like you.

What do you mean?

By and large, the men I like are mentally unsound.

I'd like to know more about you.

Ask me.

One swallow doesn't make?

A swallow?

A summer.

Practice makes

Perfect.

- Curiosity - Killed the cat.

- Haste - Makes waste.

- Rolling stone - Gathers no moss.

- It's a sin - To steal a pin.

- Absence makes - The heart grow fonder.

- Not bad. - You collect them?

At home, we say a man who knows proverbs can't be all bad.

Pretty girl from the fifth floor, listen to this!

- You believe in miracles? - Not today.

You're in for a surprise.

What if I told you that a team of climbers

on Mont Blanc had found

hard proof that my husband loved me?

Lucien, I need some yeast.

For Miss Amelie? She's baking her famous plum cake?

Collignon! Go!

I'll be right back.

I'll be back.

Go into the bedroom, Miss Poulain.

So, little Amelie

your bones aren't made of glass.

You can take life's knocks.

If you let this chance go by

eventually, your heart will become

as dry and brittle as my skeleton.

So

go get him, for Pete's sake!

"Without you, today's emotions

"would be the scurf of yesterday's."

International airport.

September 28, 1997. It is exactly 11 a.m.

At the funfair, near the ghost train

the marshmallow twister's twisting

while in Villette Park, Felix Lerbier

learns there are more links in his brain

than atoms in the universe.

At the Sacre Coeur

the Cardinals are practicing their backhands.

The temperature is 24 degrees Celsius.

Humidity, 70%.

Atmospheric pressure, 999 millibars.

{{{the end}}

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