All language subtitles for La.Fiancee.du.poete.2023.FRENCH.1080p.WEB.H264-FW

Go on, Mireille, sing.

A great big stag was in his house

Looking out the window

A rabbit came up to him

And cried out like this

"Stag, Stag, open the door

"Or the hunter will kill me!

"Rabbit, rabbit, come on in

"Come and shake my hand"

A FILM BY YOLANDE MOREAU

THE JOLLY FORGERS

Great big stag.

-Mireille?
-Father Benoît?

Is that really you?

I thought

you looked too much like Mireille
not to be her.

Are you back in the area?

That's great.

I don't know, Father Benoît.
Maybe it's not such a good idea.

I don't feel welcome.

I hear voices at night,
like reproaches.

Then I saw a cowboy.

A cowboy?

Watching me.

I made a lot of mistakes.

Yes, I know.

There it is.

Back to square one.

I feel so empty. If you only knew.
So empty.

Mireille.

That emptiness is like a thirst.

It's like hunger.

It's like an expectation.

If you're not thirsty,
you don't think of water.

And if you don't expect to,
you'll never hear the call.

You need
to reach out to others, Mireille.

You only own what you give.

I don't have much to give, Father.

My life is a wasteland.

My sister Annie has three sons.

Mireille.

You seem to have forgotten
everything I taught you.

Jesus' arms are wide open,
to welcome His lost sheep.

Jesus is mercy.

You must have faith, Mireille.

I'll try, Father.

Come on, Mireille.

Let's go on our way.

-Here you go.
-Thank you.

Rice with ham and cheese, please.

-What topic did you choose?
-It wasn't an easy choice.

I chose, "Art is the will

"to pit elegance and beauty
against injurious reality,

"against all odds, come what may,

"even amid the ruins -
especially amid the ruins."

-With rice.
-Yes.

I chose that line from Châteaubriand,
"Sculpture gives marble its soul."

You'll laugh, but I have a deer.

It's made of cement, not marble,
but it has a soul.

It's quite a surprise.

I'll have the same, please.

-Thanks.
-Beans, with ham and cheese, please.

-Aminata?
-Yes?

I have a favor to ask, this weekend.

OK, let me know.

-No rice?
-No, I'm fine without.

Rice, with ham and cheese.

This is a palace, not a house.

You could have guest rooms.

-Or you could turn it into a hostel.
-A hostel?

There's plenty of room.

Look.

Oh my God, that's heavy.

This junk is cluttering up your life.

Right, let's leave it here.

-There?
-There.

Yes.

Great big stag.

"Against all odds,

"even amidst the ruins -
especially amidst the ruins."

Father Benoît!

Father Benoît!

I thought about what you said.

I'm going to reach out to people.

I'm going to open a hostel.

Well, a hostel...
Let's be clear about this.

I'm going to rent rooms to students.

That's a wonderful idea, Mireille.

I'll take care of them.

They'll be like my children,
the sons I never had.

I'll take good care of them.

And it'll help me
to maintain the house,

because it costs.

It's a money pit.

I may know someone.

A local gardener.
Divorced, with two children.

Should I talk to him?

Oh, yes. Children, yes.

Yes, I need children.

Cyril Ligeard?
Did I speak to you on the phone?

So this is it?
I was scared I had the wrong address.

I wasn't expecting...

You work at the Fine Arts cafeteria,
right?

Yes, that's me.

But come in.
You're loaded up like a mule.

I could have done with one!
You're not that near.

Here we are.
There's a view of the Meuse.

Not bad.

Do you have wifi?

No, there's no wifi.

I get two bars,
on the bridge, at Monthermé.

Otherwise, nothing.

I'd like to stay in touch

with my friends and family
in Brussels.

Ah, right. I don't have any of that.

-Do your parents live in Brussels?
-Yes.

Woluwe-Saint-Pierre.

The Mellaerts Ponds. I know them.

I went canoeing in 1969.

My parents are just alongside.

But I lost contact with them.
They cut me off, financially.

They wanted me to be a lawyer.

A lawyer? How awful.

But then how are you managing,
financially?

I get by.
I sell paintings here and there.

Paintings?

Yes, reproductions.

Is that your easel?

Yes.

Hello, I spoke to Father Benoît.
He said you have rooms to rent.

Yes, come on in.

Yes, he told me about you.

And you have two children.

It's complicated. I don't see them.

Well, not at the moment.

What's your name?

Bernard.

Bernard.

And you're a gardener?

Yes, you're well informed.

I do all the traffic circles
in Charleville.

-No way.
-I do.

Good Lord!

Right, there's a leak there,
but it's all dry alongside.

You have to learn to dodge the drops.

So, this is the view from the back.

Did you sleep well?

Yes, but it's freezing in the rooms.

Oh, with a decent blanket...

Do you think we can have two?

-You didn't hear voices?
-Voices?

At night.

There was quite a bit of wind.

Do the buses run regularly?

Where are you going?

Fine Arts, in Charleville.

-I can drop you off in my truck.
-Yes, that'd be good.

Do you have room for me too?
I'm going to the Fine Arts.

I usually take the bus
but I'd be happy to drive.

No problem.

-Hi, Mireille.
-We'd like some supplies.

Sure, girls. What do you need?

Can you do us a carton?

-Lucky Strikes?
-Yes.

Thanks.

You got lucky. That's my last carton.

Great.

-I'll get a delivery soon.
-Thanks.

Thanks so much.

Cyril!

-Can you get into the storeroom?
-Yes.

Well, in the storeroom,
at the back, to the right,

there are some curtains.

They use them for exhibitions,
but otherwise no one needs them.

Can you pinch them?

They'd be so good for the house.

Er... I don't know...

-I'll see what I can do.
-Oh, go on.

Are you afraid of running out?

You never know what'll happen.

There could be a lockdown.
I'm planning ahead.

But I sent it.

To your account, as usual.

The reception's bad.
It's not my fault, I'm telling you.

I'm not getting upset.

Bernard? Bernard!

In a month?

Can you put Lola on,
so I can say goodnight?

Already?

You could try to understand.

I don't want to talk about that.
You make everything so complicated.

Send my love to the girls.
I miss them.

Hello?

Hello?

Are you crazy?

Are you OK?

Yes, I'm OK,
because I have good reflexes.

You could have had my eye out.

Coffee?

OK.

Sorry, it's a bit of a mess.

Do you sleep in here?

I used to play in the bars,
in Charleville.

It's really good. It's a nice crowd.

Are you a musician?

No, I'm a tenant.

You know, the landlady...

she rents out rooms.

You'd be better off there
than in here.

I've already taken advantage of it.

You're a squatter?

Here it is.

This was my room when I was young.

There was a fire.

That's the last room.

I love the color.

A good bed.

Two hundred euros, in advance.

OK.

That's amazing.
It looks better than the original.

I try to get into the painter's head.

I become the painter.

You're quite the forger!

No, I just try to understand
how the guy worked.

I'm not copying him.
I'm having lunch with him.

Talking about lunch,
I'm right on time.

Oh my word.

You're talented.

What's that in her hand? A whip?

A scourge. To chastise humankind.

-What did humankind do?
-It chose the Lie.

Truth, Coming Out of the Well.

"'Hello,' said Truth.

"'Lovely day,' said the Lie.

"So,
Truth went to see if it was true.

"It was.

"The Lie ran towards the water
and said

"'The water's beautiful and warm.
Let's swim.

"Truth touched the water
with its fingers.

"It was beautiful and warm.

"So Truth trusted the Lie.

"Both took off their clothes
and swam peacefully.

"A little later the Lie got out.

"It put on Truth's clothes and left.

"Truth
couldn't wear the Lie's clothes,

"so it walked off with no clothes"

"and everyone turned away,
seeing it naked.

"Sad and abandoned,
Truth took refuge in a well.

"And since then,

"people have preferred the Lie,
dressed up as the Truth,

"over the bare Truth itself."

OK, Mireille, Picasso,
I'll get the lunch ready.

Picasso.

Would you like a drink?

Are you a musician?

I just started, with the guitar.

Ah, right.

-What did he say?
-He plays the tambourine.

Picasso?

"Wine, half full in the carafe,

"is like trembling painted lips,
that know now what to say.

"Don't tell me anything either.

"Stand, and I shall stand too.

"Where you go, I will go."

If there was no poetry,
nightingales would belch.

-You're so daft.
-Those were André's words.

André Pieyre de Mandiargues.

These words are in my flesh.

They don't want to come out.

André Pieyre?

My great love.

A Catalan poet.

And what happened to André Pieyre?

He died.

I'm sorry, Mireille.

That's life.

"The sea made a sound like sex.

"And we suddenly knew

"That we were made in common

"With the ash and the seed

"Of all that was or will be

"In the dark infinities

"But later, we were cold.

"Then, we retreated into ourselves

"And the night
became a stranger to us."

I wasn't sure of the new address.

-Those cigarettes are selling, huh?
-They help make ends meet.

I'm sure they do.

-Shall I put them inside?
-Can you put them upstairs?

I think we're good.

There are five Camels
in the last box,

but not so many Gitanes.

-OK.
-And the money?

-I got it ready.
-Great.

Do you want to step things up a bit?

-How do you mean?
-Coke. The students love it.

No, I'm not interested.
I'll stick to cigarettes.

It's up to you.

-Shall I see you out?
-No, I'll be OK.

Homer depicts two warriors,

antithetical, but inseparable.

Can I help you, Mrs. Stockaert?

I just wanted...

Achilles...

What's up?

Cyril, I forgot to tell you,

I'm having dinner at my sister's.

Don't wait up for me.
I have no idea when I'll be back.

I got a few things for you.

Mrs. Stockaert, please,
this isn't the place.

Yes, I'm leaving.

Ulysses is the warrior
that becomes a strategist,

putting his prudence and ingenuity
in the service of victory.

To the Stockaerts.

To the Stockaerts.

No, I was saying,

Pierre breathed new life
into the business

and it really needed it.

We'd have had it without him.
You have to move with the times.

Were you really in jail?

Vincent, please.

Yes, I was.

You don't have to.

I'll get the dessert.

What did you do?

I sold drugs.

Powder or weed?

Both.

That's ancient history.

We've all made mistakes, haven't we?

But, still,

when you got out,
we'd have liked a word or a sign.

But nothing. Silence.

That was tough.

Forty years with no news.

I wasn't proud.

I lived near Marseille
for a long time,

doing odd jobs.

Yes, you poor thing.

And how did things turn out?

You're a maid,
with a degree in literature.

And that man, the poet,
that you gave everything up for?

How big is a cell?

It must be around 100 square feet.

Our parents' house
must feel quite different.

Homemade pavlova,
with fresh strawberries.

They're not easy to get,
as they're not in season.

Here.

It'd cost quite a bit,
to get it back in shape.

We were planning to sell it.

We weren't expecting you
to show up again.

-Thanks.
-But, between us, can you afford it?

The meringue's sticky.

Then leave it.

He could try it, at least.

You'll let them get neurotic.

Why are you getting upset?

Here.

Don't you get scared,
alone in that big house?

Who said I'm alone?

My mistake.

-But it's strange.
-What is?

I don't see the truck.

A prince charming?

A blast from the past.

Do you want some?

I'm not used to it anymore.

It's funny
that you're married to my sister.

I married Francine first.
Do you remember Francine?

You were friends.

But it didn't last.

Then I kept working for your father.

I watched your sister grow.

As a teenager,
she did everything you did.

She looked up to you.
She dressed like you.

Those big floral dresses.

Your mother didn't like that much.

You liked Jack London,
Steinbeck and Rimbaud,

so she had to read London,
Steinbeck and Rimbaud.

The same with music.

Do you remember that song
by The Wallace Collection?

Do you remember?

Your father
had made his own record player,

but it wouldn't play
at the right speed.

It was all in slow motion.

Basile got the record.
He listened to it constantly.

Who's that floozy?

OK, stop it! Stop it!

Is anybody there?

OK.

OK.

Bernard.

Bernadette.

If everyone takes their sweet time,
there'll be no hot water left.

It's clogged.

Oh my.

Melith?

Agurete.

Melith Ajuret?

My name is Melith Arugete,
and I'm Turkish.

-Turkish?
-I'm a political refugee.

And if I get caught...

What's the risk?

Being taken to the border
and put in prison in Turkey.

Oh wow.

-You speak French well.
-I have a degree in literature.

-Right.
-I do. I have the certificate.

Melith Ajuret.

Melith Arugete.

Melith Arachete.

-Arugete.
-Ajarat?

Arugete.

Arujete. Arojete.

Ru.

Ru? Arugete.

Melith Arugote.

See you tonight, Mireille.

"Great big stag.

"What do you see,
above the human tower,

"To lift your head so high

"In the blue skies?

Mireille, what fine wind brings you?

It's an ill wind, father,

carrying me hither and thither,
as the man said.

What do you mean? Tell me.

I'm being led
on a merry dance, as usual.

Bernard,
the gardener that you sent me.

He swings both ways.

What do you mean by that?

He dresses up as a woman at night.

He does? So what?

I don't know...

Did you know?

No one tells me anything.

-It's not easy to tell people.
-No, that's for sure.

And he has problems with the courts.

His wife wants to take the kids away.

And then the other guy, the American.

He's Turkish.

The cowboy.

Between you and me, we might wonder.

What's he doing around here?

Mireille.

If you start doubting everything
and everyone...

Hell is in an empty heart.

Life back home can get so complicated
that you want to leave.

That can be the brave thing to do.

Under the current regime,

life in Turkey
isn't always a barrel of laughs.

People can dream of another life.

They can invent it
and it becomes real.

If he's undocumented,

why doesn't he marry
a nice French girl?

That would solve his problems.

-Is that charcoal?
-Yes.

Nice job.

You know how to handle a pencil,
Picasso.

Good daily to you,
as the local bookseller would say.

Because I'm worth it.

You're so handsome, Elvis.
You're like a Greek god.

He's not Greek, he's Turkish.
Right, Melith?

I'd like to do your portrait,
Mireille.

-Mine?
-Yes, for my final year project.

Why not?

You don't need to speak American.

-Do you want some pasta?
-With what?

-Let's see what we can manage.
-I'll give you a hand.

-I do feel a bit peckish.
-Melith?

I've been thinking
about your situation.

As far as I'm concerned...

my heart's there to be taken.

Or to be given.

If you married me,
your problems would be over.

Excuse me?

We'd be pretending, of course.

It'd be a marriage of convenience.

Melith Arugete.

Your documents are all in order,
Mrs. Stockaert.

I just want to make sure
you understand what you're doing.

You understand the difference
between a migration marriage

and a marriage of convenience?

Migration?

Yes, when one of the spouses
is leading the other along,

to get residency papers.

They're crossing the border,
to steal French jobs.

Ah, yes, I see what you mean,
but that couldn't be happening.

Elvis and I have known each other
for a long time.

Elvis?

That's his stage name.

He's a singer.

A singer?

Yes, he sings. Country.

Country?

American folk music - ballads.

Love songs, cowboy songs.

Cowboy songs.

I love that stuff.

But that said,
I've always preferred Indians.

They're wilder.

Yes, that's true.

-You're lucky.
-I know.

Is he handsome?

Yes.

That doesn't hurt.

I've settled down, myself.

I found my dupe.

But being on a diet doesn't mean
that you can't look at the menu.

No.

I like it here.

It's like a family.

It's just more subversive.

Subversive?

Yes, I don't know...
There's a touch of madness.

I was suffocating, at home.

I left home when I was 22 too.

I was suffocating.

I couldn't take it anymore.
I needed some air.

I wanted something else.

I don't know what,
but... something else.

And you came back?

Yes.

So you didn't find it?

And your lover, the poet?

André Pieyre?

I believed in it.

I believed in it so much.

I gave him my soul.

And he turned it into a wasteland.

You do me good.

Likewise.

Yes, yes.

My God!

-Well done.
-Well done.

There you go, you're settled!

She's so beautiful!

Congratulations, Mrs. Agurete.

Arugete.

Mireille,
these are my Turkish friends.

-Congratulations.
-Hello.

-Congratulations.
-Ferdi and Amel.

-Hello, congratulations.
-Hello.

-Are we going to the party?
-No, we're not, Basile.

You have
an assignment on the Revolution,

for Monday.

Wow, you really went for it.

There's no maid of honor.
She only has nephews.

Cyril and I are making this special.

She knows.

-About what?
-About your queer side.

Did you tell her?

I didn't say anything.
She just knows, that's all.

But don't say anything about me.
I'm counting on you.

Because people tend to frown
on priests that crossdress.

So I'd rather people didn't know.

No.

What a tiny guitar!

Things are getting better
with my daughters.

Oh, I'm so glad.

I know I owe you for this.

-I want you to have it.
-Thanks.

-My pleasure.
-Thank's very much.

-That's for you.
-For me?

Go on!

But...

She said it was fine.

That's nice.

Basile, did you come on your own?

I had a fight with my mother.

For once
there's a wedding in the family...

-Here you go.
-Ah, thank you, Bernard.

To your wedding.

Well, it was a pretend wedding.

But who cares? It's still a wedding.

Huh? It's true.

That's wonderful.

You should try this.
It's not bad at all.

-Good evening.
-Is my son here?

Yes, he's here.

But he wants to enjoy the party
and stay at our place.

-What do you mean, "our place"?
-Yes, I live here. I'm a tenant.

I'm so happy.

-Ah, Annie!
-I came to take Basile home.

You came, after all. I'm so happy!

What's going on here?
Do you have undeclared tenants?

Ah, my sister-in-law.

My sister-in-law. She's so beautiful.

-This is quite an atmosphere.
-Thanks.

I never thought I'd see you again.

Neither did I.

Neither did I.

Hey, girls.

Don't get carried away there.

This is Bernard.

My gardener.

Baroness, I can't find the desserts.

The gardener?

Municipal.

I do all the traffic circles
in Charleville.

I did every tulip in Charleville.

Ah, yes, I understand now.

I'm like the flowers,

both male and female,
a sort of natural hybridization.

The child of the Goddess Aphrodite
and Hermes, God of Bisexuality.

Here come the desserts!

-Have some.
-No, we have to go.

No.

I'd like to stay a bit longer.

That doesn't sound sensible.

You have an assignment
on the Revolution.

We'll see each other soon.

-I was glad you came.
-Take care of yourself, OK?

I'm glad you came.

Don't forget the Revolution!

Are you lost?

No.

Mireille?

I met a friend of yours,
in the garden.

He'd like to see you.

He didn't dare to come in.

Mireille.

Do you recognize me?

André Pieyre de Mandiargues.

I saw your portrait
in an art gallery.

It caught my eye.

It's such a beautiful portrait.

Even with a few extra years...

The shawl
was the first thing I recognized.

I move in closer and thought,
"I know that shawl.

"That's Mireille!"

You still have the same shawl.

That's crazy.

Damn...

Mireille can help you out.
She has plenty.

I hope you don't mind, but I'm beat.
I'm going to bed.

Will you be OK?

-Goodbye.
-See you, darling.

Goodbye.

Is he your darling?

I got married.

So do you have any cigarettes?

Wow, it's changed here.

All the splendor...

Do you remember?

Your mother
used to make us wear slippers.

You inherited the château?

You're sitting pretty.

So to speak.

I thought
you were in the south of France.

That's the last I heard.

Were you asking about me?

I came to Charleville
to fix up a friend's barge.

And I end up here.

It brings back memories, doesn't it?

Forty years.

We were young.

And now we're old.

I didn't see the passing time.

Your lover's pretty young.
You get the best.

I prefer them young and handsome.

I've dreamed so much of this moment,
Mireille.

You took your time.

I came on foot.
It's not exactly close.

You don't have a spot in your château
where I could stretch out?

I'm broke.

We're working on the barge.

My rooms are all occupied.

I don't need a room.

You know me.

By tomorrow at dawn I'll be gone.

This is perfect.

What more could you ask for?

It's like being in a coffin.

You don't have an extra cigarette,
for later?

They're 50 cents each.

I see you haven't lost your touch.

You learn a lot in prison.

You didn't want to see me in prison.

See who?

André Pieyre de Mandiargues?

Don't make me laugh.

I lied.

But would you have loved me,

if I had told you
that my name's Fernando Martínez?

That I was a plumber?

I came to explain.

Too late.

I found out. There's TV in prison.

Some people criticize you.

Because I said that you took part...

Isn't there anything
apart from Pivot?

At the end of the 1970s.
You explained all that.

But those are stories,
facts and feelings...

André Pieyre de Mandiargues,
how do you feel,

about this woman,
explaining what happened,

so candidly?

I like it a lot.

It's nice. To any question...

Who's that guy?

Who is he?

Who's that old fart?

As Isabella Morra said
or Isabelle d'Este...

-Who is that asshole?
-Stockaert!

What lousy weather.

Ah, Cyril.

Fernando Martínez.

A friend.

-Nice to meet you.
-Likewise.

-Would you like some raspberry jam?
-Ah, yes.

The bathroom's a complete mess.
It's totally blocked.

-Hello.
-Hello.

That's handy.

We have a plumber here.

Er... sure thing.

Shall I show you?

Here you go, Cyril.

Maybe dig there.

Yes, yes.

Yes.

We're getting there.

Ah, yes.

I'm not surprised. Look.

-Ah, yes.
-It's broken. How could that work?

That's from back in World War I.

Let's try to unblock it
and we'll see how we get on.

-Good idea.
-Yes.

-So it wasn't the pipe.
-No, it wasn't.

-Shall we eat?
-I wouldn't say no.

Yes, gladly.

My God, that stinks.

A childhood dream

A dream of long ago

So long ago

And my heart

Adrift

And My Heart

Adrift...

Hey, it's coming out here.

-Is that working?
-Yes, you can see the water, there.

-What were you doing in Venezuela?
-I was a skipper.

I was transporting a luxury catamaran

for this rich guy that owned
a pharmaceutical laboratory.

You should have seen the beast!

The boss or the catamaran?

Both, Colonel!

Once, he was waiting for me
in Barbados.

Everything was going well.
I had the wind in my sails.

Then I stopped off in Grenada.

And Grenada is famous for its...

-Great.
-Nice job.

-Your band's great.
-Good stuff.

-Thanks.
-I wasn't expecting that. Thanks.

-It's cool that you came.
-Really cool.

Do you want a beer, cowboy?

That's very gallant,

but I'm with my buddies,
so that makes four beers.

-What are you drinking?
-Plow Handle.

Plow Handle?
We like handling things too.

-Did you try the Tarace Boulba?
-No.

-I was slumped on the boat...
-Here, Mr. Pirate.

I haven't even finished
my Plow Handle.

Swallow it down, taste this,
and enjoy the trip.

That sounds promising.

-Cheers.
-Good health.

-So?
-Thanks, girls.

-This is really nice.
-My pleasure.

Ah, yes. That's nice.

Where's Mireille?

André Pieyre, her lover?

-Yes.
-He's dead. She told us he's dead.

No, he's not dead, because it's me.

I am her lover.

Fernando, a jerk of a plumber,
who didn't have the words.

I had to steal them
from André Pieyre de Mandiargues.

Do you understand?

I loved her,
but I didn't have the words.

And Mireille
is all about Molière's language.

You know about that.

You can't tell just her,
"I love you, I want to jump you."

That won't work.

You have to tell her... I forget.

"The fire paints their cold bed

"With dazzling throated
macaws and chimeras."

That'll work. You'll have got her.
She'll be like...

But look at that guy.

Elvis.

Three chords on a guitar
and the girls are at his feet.

You understand?

Not really.

It's Cyrano de Bergerac, fella.

Cyrano de Bergerac!

I had to.

She had to fall into my trap.

OK.

All good? Where's Mireille?

She left.

Is there a problem?

It's André Pieyre.

She has good reason to be mad at me.

She went down because of me.

Three years inside.

She was dealing.

She wanted to get my poems published.
Well, André Pieyre's.

What a fool.

I don't get it.

I'll explain.

Cyrano de Bergerac.

We're back.

Go ahead, jump.

Don't worry.

I'm totally relaxed.

Hey, be careful.

Mireille.

Mireille.

Mireille, let me in, my love.

Why did you leave?

I'm so stupid.

I'd like... to start over.

To start from scratch.

There it is.

Mireille?

I love you. I've always loved you.

I love you.

I've always loved you.

I didn't have the words.

At the same time,

André Pieyre de Mandiargues

couldn't have unclogged your pipes.

Yes, it's funny, isn't it?

You're disappointing, really.

Mireille.

Don't touch me!

You didn't have the words?

You had a few earlier,
going on about your pirate life.

"I had the wind in my sails,

"then I stopped off in Grenada."

You had the wind in your sails?

Who were you leading on this time?

Mireille, listen to me.

I am Fernando Martínez.

I know who you are,
Fernando Martínez!

I know who you are, you phony!

You're a jerk! A smooth talker!

-A cheat!
-Let him speak, Mireille.

What's it got to do with you,
Melith Whatever?

Who are you, to be giving me orders?

-You're going too far, Mireille.
-Yes, with guys like you.

You pathetic losers!

-You bunch of drifters!
-Mireille.

Drifters - that's all I ever meet.
Why is that all I ever meet?

Get out of my life,
you bunch of cheats!

Get out of my life!

And tomorrow, pack your bags!

You're a cheat too, Mireille.

You said your lover was dead.

But Fernando's your lover
and he's not dead.

You're living an illusion,
with your poems.

Get out of my life!

She's really mad.

We'll need to make
alternative arrangements.

She's listening.

I don't think she meant it.

Neither do I.
It was her emotions talking.

You can move onto the barge
that I'm fixing up, until it's sold.

It's a shame, though.

We worked well together here.

Ah, yes.

She's hurt.

She's a wounded little deer.

I love her.

Yes, so do I.

I love her too.

This is the second time
that I've lost her.

I'm such a fool.

If she only knew how I love her.

I was happy with her.

I didn't know it, but we were happy.

I don't want you to leave.

I didn't mean what I said.

You're right, Elvis.

I'm a cheat too.

Yes.

We all cheat, Mireille.

We need lies, to console ourselves.

To dream.

I'm a real plumber, but a fake poet.

And we got a fake marriage.
That's funny, isn't it?

Fakers for life.

The Jolly Forgers.

Even him, right? Huh?

Mr. Picasso.

He acts
like this is nothing to do with him,

but he copies the greats.

-I copy, but I don't sign.
-Yes.

-You could.
-Yes, I could.

That's true.

You could.

-That would be funny.
-What?

To make a real fake.

There was a guy
that lived not far away, in Namur.

Félicien Rops.

You could have found
an old Rops in your attic.

Félicien really understood women.

Angels around their heads,
but pulled on by pigs.

Maybe pigs
have angels around their heads too.

Is this really worth it, guys?

We could end up in jail, after all.

Counterfeiting,

receiving stolen goods
as organized criminals.

No one's really getting hurt.

I know a collector.

I do his garden,
to make a bit of extra cash.

He's a luxury car dealer.

He collects art,
without being a specialist.

Not bad.

We need a story for him.

For example,
you could say that you grandmother

might have had a fling
with Félicien Rops.

Have you got a photo of her?

What are you laughing at, Mireille?

"Without forgers,
life would be really sad."

Paul Valéry.

That's got my mother's smell.

Isn't it a bit old-fashioned?

No, you look wonderful.

You're timeless.

I am?

You're beyond age.

What about her shoes?

Did you try them?

With a bit of a heel heel.
That would be good.

I can't wear those anymore, Fernando.

Are you sure? Try.

Your little feet.

Have you had relationships
with other women?

Yes.

I lived with a woman for 12 years.

And you?

I lost interest.

Your nose is getting longer.

No.

Even with your sneakers,
you'll look like a queen.

"How much can I sell
this old Rops for?"

You know it's worth ten, 15 thousand.

If he offers you nine, you say,
"Nine thousand? That's great!

"I can redo my roof.

"And if there's extra,
I'll redo the gravel driveway."

-Or get a couch for the living room.
-Yes, that's right.

"How much for this old Rops?"

How much is that doggie
In the window?

The cute little yellow and white dog

How much is that doggie
In the window?

Tilting its head and wagging

BERNARD TELLS ME
THAT YOU HAVE A FÉLICIEN ROPS!

IT WAS MY GRANDMOTHER'S.
SHE WAS HIS MISTRESS.

LOOK AT THE TWO SCAMPS!

SELLING IT BREAKS MY HEART.

BUT I JUST INHERITED
MY PARENTS' HOUSE.

IT NEEDS A LOT OF WORK.

THE FRAME ISN'T ORIGINAL.
MY FATHER MADE IT, TO PROTECT IT.

HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT?

WHAT IF I SAID 9,000?

9,000!

THAT'S WONDERFUL!

I CAN REDO MY ROOF.

AND I'LL GRAVEL THE DRIVEWAY,
IF POSSIBLE.

SHALL I PAY CASH?

SORRY?

HERE? RIGHT NOW?

THIS IS PART OF ME, GOING.

Well?

-Well?
-So, well?

Well?

-Well?
-Well?

So...

So...

There you go!

Oh my! And it goes on!

-Money!
-Come on!

That's great!

-So did it work?
-Just a bit.

Champagne, guys!

Champagne for everyone!

-Here we go.
-Go ahead.

How much is there?

But...

Maurice is a friend.

Vincent and his daughter
go to school together.

So when I saw that he was so excited

about his new acquisition,
sold my Mrs. Stockaert,

I could see what had happened.

This is serious, Mireille.

Where did that Rops come from?

Granny and Félicien Rops...
You've really got a lot of nerve.

Hello.

Don't I know you? We've met before.

Possibly.

Mireille?

So?

It started as a joke.

A joke?

I have a tenant
who's at the School of Fine Art.

I'll go get him.

Isn't that André Pieyre, your poet?

No, it's Fernando.

A pirate.

Bernard?

Such elegance, even in pajamas.

He's the son of Aphrodite.

The goddess.

So you're the forger?

It's not his fault.

We had the idea.
He's our very own Picasso.

Have a seat.

You have a lot of talent.

-But they're still fakes.
-So?

Museums are full of fakes.

People buy certificates, not works.

I love the art.

But, still, 9,000 euros...

-We'll give you the money back.
-Yes, we will.

I don't want it.
It's yours. You earned it.

You did a great job.

And I'm keeping that painting,
for myself.

-You're not pressing charges?
-No, don't worry, Mireille.

You got off lightly.

Hello.

Your husband.

-Is there any coffee left?
-No.

You have an incredible talent.

I'm just a student.

Don't sell yourself short.
He's really good.

He painted
a wonderful portrait of Mireille.

-I'd like to see it.
-Come.

-Yes.
-Let's go.

And do you like Matisse?

-I love him.
-Could you...

Yes, of course.

Is that André Pieyre?

Your poet?

You're not getting taken in
a second time.

Maybe.

But I don't mind.

We have dreams
and then they come true.

"Hell is in an empty heart."

But you're not in love, are you?

He's the man of my life.

Mireille.

What would you say
if we sold the house?

You could use your share
as you please.

With your bunch of clowns,
if you like.

Picasso, the tulip guy,
your husband, your pirate.

SOLD

Father Benoît!

Bye-bye!

Along the water

The flow of dreams

A childhood dream

A dream of long ago

So long ago...

I can't see where I'm going!

We'll see.

A spark

In the fog

Fluttering its wings

A black diamond

Along the banks

The lulling flow

Caressing me

So gently

And my heart

Adrift

And my capsizing heart...

Hold the course

Lose your bearings

Reinvent

Fall under the spell again

And sing

Always sing

Sing of love

Sing of love

Sing of life

Sing of life

And sing

Always sing

Sing of love

Sing of life

And sing

Always sing

Sing of love

Sing of life

And sing

Always sing

Sing of love,

Sing of life...

Subtitling: TransPerfect Media