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JANE AUSTEN WRECKED MY LIFE

Who's this bug?
What are you doing here?

Are your PJs in the wash?

Yes.

What a comfortable pillow!

Nice and fluffy.

Where's your mum?

She's asleep.
There's a guy in her bed.

How do you know
there isn't one in mine?

I've never seen one…

Maybe he's hiding under my bed!

Hey!

Tom, my son,
and Agathe, my sister.

And this is…

- Raphael.
- Gabriel.

Hi.

Bye, pumpkin.

I'm late, I'm opening the pool at 8.

I'd love a green tea.

I'm coffee intolerant.

Sorry.

Bye, zebra.
I'll pick you up at teatime.

See you later!

- Bye, er, Raphael.
- Gabriel.

Right…

A bit of a memory issue.

You're so bloody slow!

God, you're so slow!

Are you OK?

Shit, sorry.

She's barking.

My little secret is the stewed onions.

Look, it's her again.

I can't stand her any more.

Ever heard of the concept
of "breadcrumber"?

No, never.

- It was tailor-made for you.
- What is it?

You give girls attention,

the hope of something special,
but never commit.

You leave everything to stew!

Girls, onions…

See?

You keep them hanging on…

- Hey!
- … just in case.

Give me a break!
What would you know anyway?

Your only relationship
is with your sandwich.

You're so vulgar, madam.

With that drop of sauce,
you're disgusting tool.

No, stop!

Shit!

All right?

Hang on.

When d'you last shag?

Speak properly.
I can't understand you.

Come on, tell me the truth.

Shut it!

What are you waiting for?

Mark Darcy?

Afraid he'll never show up?

- I'm not afraid.
- Sure, you are.

You're scared of suffering,
love affairs, one-night stands.

You're scared of apps.

You're scared.
You don't live, you hide.

I don't, it's just that…

I'm not into Uber sex.

I don't do digital.
I don't want to have to "like" guys

or hear them tiptoe off
so as not to wake me up.

I'm not living in the right century.

- Agathe?
- Yes.

Let go.

I'm not sure I can write
to a dead person.

Nobody's forcing you to be here.

You churn out cheap romances.

It wouldn't hurt
to explore something else.

You need to be in tune
with the times, Agathe.

Excuse me.

Could I have the ladies version?

- I'll fetch one right away.
- Thank you.

It's on the house.

Thank you.

Wear your green socks.
Change socks.

Félix is snoring on our couch!

Again?

Wake him up.
Tell him to make you toast.

His feet stink!

I know, but he's sweet.

Sorry, sorry.

Why are you still here?

Hey, Bukowski,
could you go take a shower?

Don't push it, you!

You read it?
It isn't even finished!

- Félix, that's not on.
- Calm down.

It's good.

Very good, even.

Seriously.
It's a little weird like you, but…

it's touching.

It's not bad at all.

What happens next?

I don't know, as usual.

It's the umpteenth story
I've started and can't finish.

You must. I want to know
what happens next.

Writing in English suits you.

It's really good.

Do you have a Jane Austen
for every circumstance?

Yes.

What would you recommend to me?

Mansfield Park.

- Henry Crawford is you.
- Why?

He's a liar and a seducer.

A Casanova caught out at his own game
when he falls in love.

And who would you be?

Anne Elliot in Persuasion.

Why?

Because she's an old maid

who has wilted like a flower
in need of water.

She has let life pass her by.

For an old dried-up flower,
you smell good.

What's that?

An invite from
the Jane Austen Residency

to spend two weeks
at their writers' retreat.

They liked my first chapters?

Fuck, don't tell me it was you!

You needed a kick up the arse.

Thanks.

But I can't.

- Why?
- You know why.

- Don't bail.
- How do I get there? By bike?

Great idea!

Let's call Mona and celebrate.

No, forget it.
You won't change my mind.

You're so annoying.
I could bite you.

- You OK, pumpkin?
- Yes.

- Did you sleep well?
- Yes.

When does the retreat start?

Tom, do you want to go the zoo?

Yes! I'll get dressed.

- Can I say something?
- Nope.

I'm going to, anyway.

It starts in three days.

I can cover for you at the bookshop.

So we're good.

Plan to spend your life
cycling around Paris,

moaning about writer's block?

Leave me alone, you two!
I can't go, OK?

I can't get back in a car.

Is that clear enough?

What the hell are you doing?

Duh, eating. I'm hungry.

Oh really?

Cold pasta at 2 am…

Can't you be like Duras?

Drink whisky, take pills,
something a bit more flamboyant?

Nice. Thanks.

Hey…

what the fuck is wrong with you?

I know you're disappointed
but this trip is too much for me.

You stupid cow!

I'm sick of your bullshit.

You've put your life on hold
since the accident.

You refuse to go back
to the Bergeronette.

I've had to spend every summer there

alone with Tom since he was born.

Sorry.

Are you OK?

No. I'm having a panic attack.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

- I can't.
- Come on, breathe.

- Give me a cigarette.
- No! You struggled to quit.

- Give me a fucking cig!
- Hang on, calm down.

Here you go.

Give me one.

What are you doing?
Cut that out!

Agathe, you're such a pain.

Excuse me, a dangerous individual
is hiding in your group.

Give me a break!

Félix, do you honestly think
I'm a match for published authors?

Of course!
You've just got impostor syndrome.

No, I don't, I'm a genuine impostor.

In my heart I have a funny Sicilian song

That you know by heart
Because my life resembles yours

I love you more
Than the volcanoes of Italy

Remember this?

I love you the Italian way

My heart pounds

I speak with my hands

And I see red when you talk to anyone

When the south wind plays la musica

I sing along with it, just for you

I love you the Italian way

It feels good to see the sea.

You were right.

I miss the Bergeronette.

I know.

Here…

for your nerves,
take half a pill on the ferry

and the other half before bed.

You'll feel better, OK?

How do you know
I won't get anaphylactic shock or…?

Hello?

Not at all.
I don't know where we are.

Our car just broke down in a forest.

Plus I'm stuck

with Jane Austen's
great-great-great-nephew.

No, he's unbearable, really arrogant

and totally stuck-up.

I've never seen the like.

I threw up on his shoes, too.

Hello? Mona?

Shit, I'm out of battery!

I speak French, you know.

Shit.

Sorry.

I lived with a French woman
for five years.

One of my worst-ever decisions.

And you're rude to French women
because she dumped you.

You don't how to fix your car, do you?

Not a clue.

Do you have service?

None.

Is the next village far?

It'll be dark soon.

So what do we do now?

We wait.

What's the other option?

We decide who eats who to survive.

What's your problem with cars?

I was in a crash with my parents.

My dad had a stroke
and lost control of the car.

They were killed instantly.

I was in the back
and escaped with injuries.

I'm sorry.

It is what it is.

If you're cold…

Thank you.

Try to get some sleep.

Yep.

Are you whistling the Marseillaise?

You're enjoying this, eh?

Kind of.

You're incredibly young!

I thought you were much older.

- You speak French?
- Yes.

I love it!

I'm sorry about last night.

My son Oliver insists
on driving that old car.

Give me your coat.

That's it.

Thank you.

To be honest, I haven't eaten for ages
and I'm starving. If I could grab…

My dear,

You've come to the right place
for a proper English breakfast.

You're free to write wherever you like,

to stroll in the grounds…

And we always hold a ball

at the beginning of autumn.

A ball!

And a public reading
of your work in progress.

Is the public reading…

compulsory?

Yes, my dear,
but it's all very casual.

You'll see.

I hope you'll be inspired here.

Your agent said you needed
peace and quiet

because of your age.

My agent?

I thought it was the bathroom!

What a direct approach.

I'd be grateful if you locked
your side too.

Thank you!

Write me down

Cover me up

Swallow my face

Mute my voice
Hear my whisper

Listen to my cry…

Good to meet you, Agathe.

What's the matter with him?

I don't know.

He refuses to see a doctor, but…

we're going to have to face facts soon.

Did you find your bathroom?

Agathe, how come you speak
such good English?

My father is…

… was born in Bristol
and spoke to us English.

Where the fuck am I?

Why isn't it working?

The house is that way.

I know. Thanks.

I love you the Italian way

My heart pounds

I speak with my hands

And I see red when you talk to anyone

Hello, what are you doing here?

What the fuck!

What's your problem?

Stay away from me!

I'm lying on my bed,
thinking about you.

Thinking about when we kissed,

your tongue in my mouth,

your tongue in my…

"Your tongue in my…"

Fuck!

Oh no!

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Where did you get the idea?

What idea?

Your novel.

A woman who falls for the man
she sees in her sake cup.

In my local Chinese restaurant.

You probably think it's ridiculous.

No. It intrigues me.

Are you making headway?

Yes, a lot.

I'm writing non-stop.
It's so inspiring here.

Mona isn't home.
Leave a message.

Hi, it's me.

I hope you're both well.

Call me back when you can.

Tom, a llama spat right in my face.

You'd have loved it.

I miss you.
I'll be home in eight sleeps.

Love you.

Damn.

Do you have kids?

It's for my nephew Tom.

I've lived with him since he was born.

My sister fell pregnant
just after our parents died.

So we decided to all live together.

- How old is he?
- Six.

I found this old illustrated edition

of The Wonderful Adventures of Nils.

- Does he know it?
- I don't think so.

It's a good idea.

Wouldn't you like to have
your own children…

with your partner?

I haven't slept with a guy in two years.

I fantasize about my sake cup
and I snog my best friend.

The university suspended me
for wrecking the staff room.

My partner slept with most
of the literature department.

Men, women, everyone.

I'm very, very good at screwing up.

The Palme d'Or of losers.

The Turner Prize for drifting.

I moved back home,
but Dad walks around half-naked,

forgets my name…

And I can't sleep without Tramadol.

Have I had breakfast?

- I can't remember.
- Yes, you had it this morning.

But you're…

- You're very beautiful.
- Thank you.

I'm going to write a poem for you.

Let me take you back
to your room first.

All right.

We'll find your trousers.

I'll take it from here.

All right.

Thank you.

Good night, Agathe.

Good night.

You have no new messages.

Félix hasn't tried to reach you

and you still haven't written
a single line.

You're wasting your time
at this residency

and you're wasting ours.

I baked them for ages.

I know you like them crunchy on top.

That's kind of you.

I'll have a taste.

Are you making progress?

So good.

How's your love story going?

I can't wait to hear your reading.

Well, I won't disturb you any longer.

I have to go and look after Todd.

Don't you ever get tired
of doing everything?

Wordsworth spoke of…

"Little, nameless,
unremembered acts

"Of kindness and of love"

as being the best part of life.

That's beautiful.

I love to see this house full of life.

All the writers who come here…

It's like a family, you know.

And you're part of it now.

Our Oliver has come home tool.

He seems better.

I find him more…

I don't know.

See you later.

That's how I became
an expert in I Ching.

And I had a lover in Shanghai.

What are you plotting?
Can I play too?

Go on, then.

What do I have to do?

Think of a question
and write it down here.

"Is Félix in love with me?
Have we been afraid of our feelings

"these last few years?"

No, that's two questions.

You have to choose one.

Toss the coins three times.

What?

"Obstruction."
There's a block.

A separation of yin and yang.

You have to find an alternative.

"A fallback situation
must be considered.

"Many disappointments
will arise over time

"in your love situation."

I'm sorry.

Can we do it again?

No, we can't.

- Come on.
- No.

I hate these things anyway.
I'm going for a smoke.

Hello?

Agathe?

Are you in a busy place?

Yes. I can't hear.
Can you hear me?

Yes, I can.

Did you get my messages?

Yes. Sorry I didn't call back.

I've been busy at the bookshop.

Félix?

You're not ghosting me
or breadcrumbing me, are you?

Just don't ruin this, OK?

I can barely hear you.

- What did you say?
- Never mind. Take care. Bye.

I can't hear a thing.

Shall we go to the pub?

Are you leaving already?

That depends.
Do you play darts?

No.

I'd rather you were conscious.

Can't you just eat me out?

It's me.

You look like shit.

What a welcome! Nice.

I was on the ferry earlier.
I was afraid you'd realize.

I've come to distract you
and take you to the ball.

Why didn't you reply to my message?

That was some message!

I loved it. Thanks a lot.

I just needed time to process.

I've thought of nothing but you
since we kissed…

This new turn of events
kind of freaks me out.

Breakfast for two!
How splendid is that?

We've wasted 10 years.
Let's not waste more.

Kiss me! I missed you.

Are you OK?

Can I get you anything?

No! Stay where you are.

Here, put this on.

All right.

So what did you do?

Sleep with both of them?

No, neither.

Oliver tucked me in

and Félix woke me up.

It was really weird but…

not at all unpleasant.

I'm relieved he's here.

Relieved?

That doesn't sound very exciting.

- You look beautiful.
- Thanks.

Beth, I feel dizzy,
go and dance with Félix.

I'll be right back.

Is he nuts?

No, turn!

Don't do that!

My nipples are sensitive.
Are you nuts?

I'll have red marks too.

- Don't do it again.
- OK, fine.

- I mean it.
- I got it!

Do you realize this house
is 300 years old?

Have you seen
how thick the walls are?

Yeah…

I have, yeah.

It's a nice temperature.

Very nice.

Should I open the window wider?

No, it's fine as it is.

There's a lovely breeze.

Maybe there's a reason
nothing has ever happened between us.

Was it that bad?

No. That isn't the issue.

But when we're side by side like this,

I just want to eat kebabs
and watch TV together.

Well, we know each other inside out.

So it'll take us a bit of time…

to adjust to this new situation.

- Are you serious?
- Yes. It's perfectly normal.

With you, I have found
my double flame at last.

Fuck no, Félix!

You quote Octavio Paz
to every girl you sleep with.

Don't say that crap to me!

Us being together is self-evident,
but we refused to see that.

So it's normal to feel afraid.

What's there to be afraid of?

Well…

Aren't we just afraid
of ending up alone?

No.

- I've always wanted to sleep with you.
- You want to sleep with everyone!

I adore you.

But I don't feel…

that little inexplicable spark.

So that's it, huh?
You won't even give us a chance.

Sorry.

It isn't that.

- Where are you going?
- For a walk.

- I'll come with you.
- No. I'm going alone.

- Are you mad at me?
- No.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

- Should I stay for the reading?
- Definitely not.

It's more stressful
with loved ones present.

- We'll see each other soon.
- Yep.

What a fucking surprise!

Was it you who spat at me?

Are you leaving already?

Don't tell me it's because
of your reading.

Beth…

I'm sorry.

I lied to you.

I haven't written anything,
not a single word.

I'm not a writer.
I need to accept that and move on.

You should have told us
you had hit a dry spell.

So many residents have before you.

We loved the first chapters
of your novel.

Just ask Oliver.

He said that your first chapters
were the most promising

he had read in years.

Thank you again for your kindness.

I'll never forget you.

I'm so sorry.

The bus doesn't run on Sundays.

Have you ever had the feeling
you were made for something or someone?

That it was just a matter of luck

or timing?

Are you talking about writing
or your boyfriend?

He isn't my boyfriend.

And I'm sorry about what happened.

I was talking about writing.

I always found excuses.

I thought conditions needed
to be perfect to write.

And that I had to experience
interesting things to write but…

that's all bullshit.

At least I know that now.

Writing is like ivy…

like weeds and plants:
it needs ruins to exist.

Look for your ruins.

Tramadol and Lexomil
are on a boat. Who falls in?

What?

Nothing, forget it.

Bye.

Are you at the Bergeronette?

Yes.

You really shouldn't leave the keys
under the flowerpots.

It's the first place burglars look.

You might as well leave the door open.

Agathe?

- What?
- You're such a pain.

Are you OK?

Well, I feel great joy

and immense sadness too.

I know, sweetie.

It'll pass, you'll see.

Remember what Dad used to say?

"Literature is the only remedy for
the disorder of thoughts and feelings."

I never did get his theories.

Dad kind of crushed you
with his literature crap.

Don't you think it's time
you told him to piss off?

He's dead, Mona.

All the more reason.

Dear Oliver,
Thank you for your gardening tips.

I found my ruins.

- Hi!
- Everyone OK?

Penetration is extremely painful…

Is this The Lion King?

Excuse me, sorry. Thanks.

There's a letter for you.
It's on the fridge.

The hairs on the tip of the male's penis
are as hard as spines

but necessary to trigger
ovulation in the female.

- Well?
- Who's it from?

An English publisher.
He loved my novel.

That's fantastic!

Cheer up!
Don't kill yourself out of joy.

Smile!

Congrats, old cowl!

There's a Jane Austen quote
on the mirror.

With my name on it!

Great.

Who made such a lame joke?

Don't look at me!
How would I know?

You're weird.

Thank you.

And the final poem this evening

is Path by Jack Hirschman.

Subtitles by Susannah Rooke

Subtitling TITRAFILM