All language subtitles for Les Indiens sont encore loin (1977)

Tuesday morning, December 4th 1976,

the body of young Jenny Kern,
a student at Lausanne City High School,

was found around 7.45am
in the Jorat woods.

The cause of death would be
cold exposure and exhaustion.

It's her.

She's dead.

The Indians are still far away

Monday

Miss, yes, you, here?

Kern, Jenny Kern.

Yes, Miss Kern,
sit here please.

In 1900, the young Thomas Mann,

from a good family,
leaves his home town,

the rainy Lübeck,
to go to Rome.

What was he seeking?

The salvation of his soul?

Hasn't Latin brightness always been

the last refuge of the German soul?

At 25, this curious boy,
dilettante, fin de siècle,

wrote some short stories

where an aching hatred
of reality

shows itself with refinement.

An aching hatred of reality.

But this disillusioned man
is also a rebel.

He disagrees with
his environment,

bank and trade
provincial aristocracy.

This is the ache
he treats in Italy.

In his first novel,
'Buddenbrooks',

Thomas Mann transposes
the story of his own environment.

The robust bourgeois vitality,

the simple and hard-working life,

is gradually lost
among the Buddenbrooks

Christian degenerates
into a neurasthenic bohemian.

His brother Thomas,

who long ago reproached him
for his mistakes,

seeks pessimistic lessons
from the philosophers.

And his son Hanno,
last of the Buddenbrooks,

turns what's left of
ancestral energy

into piano improvisations.

He dies at 15.

The short story 'Tonio Kröger'

was written much later.

It could be an epilog
to 'Buddenbrooks'.

Tonio,
little Hanno's twin brother,

is just like the author,
an artist, a writer.

Thus creation is set
as an alternative to death.

For this Nobel laureate,

artists would be

like the madman or the murderer

vulnerable and maladjusted beings

maintaining a secret relationship
with death.

Notice how Thomas Mann

constantly opposes
spirit and life.

Or lets say more simply

that he opposes a healthy,
normal, happy life

and an existence consumed

in an impossible
and unwearying search

for the impossible place

of unspeakable desire.

Search for the impossible place
of unspeakable desire.

Your books, please.

Let's read.

Would you please start.

The winter sun,
poor ghost of itself,

hung milky and wan
behind layers of cloud

above the huddled roofs
of the town.

In the gabled streets
it was wet and windy

and there came in gusts
a sort of soft hail,

not ice,
not snow.

School was out.

The hosts of the released streamed
over the paved court

and out at the wrought-iron gate,
where they broke up

and hastened off
right and left.

So?
You make up your mind?

- Are you cold?
- Who's cold here?

What's your problem anyway?

You ask me if we can have
a drink and then you...

Go on you!
Go and save me a seat.

So, are you coming?

- Good evening Granny.
- Good evening darling.

Why don't you have a snack?

Are you cold?

You're white as a sheet.

Tuesday

Best times:

Catherine Bachmann:
7.8 sec

Pascale Schwartz :
8 sec

Ivana Buchère.

Marion Calerhan.

Marianne Laader.

- Lise Biazzi.
- Agnès Violat.

Martine Muret.

Sandra Rostier.

Jacqueline Catain.

Florence Lersch.

Jenny Kern.

Dominique Couainon.

Esther Bloch.

Marguerite Brechbuhler.

Jailed:

Team 1: Sandra Rostier.

Team 2: Esther Bloch.

Go on ladies.

On your marks!

It still hurts?

That was a bad blow.

What brutes
our little classmates are.

PE is killing me.

I'm exhausted.

I'm leaving.

Bye.
See you tomorrow.

Do you want help?

It's because of the accident
that you left yesterday?

In the end it wasn't so bad.

According to the newspaper,
the guy only had a concussion.

Anyway, bloody motorist!

You're frighteningly fast.

One could even say
you break all records.

And I had something
very important to tell you.

But not anymore.

I'll tell you tomorrow.

I'm thinking of a story

One night Guillaume told Matthias.

No.

It was Matthias
that told Guillaume.

Imagine a normal classroom,

with normal students.

The teacher asks a student,
let's say Max,

to reduce a fraction,
something easy that Max can do.

Max stands up.

And he says nothing.

Maybe he's intimidated,
blocked, and all.

Most of the other students
wave their hand to answer in his stead.

But Max keeps saying nothing.

The teacher ignores the others

and patiently

tries to make Max understand
he knows the answer.

But

as Max looks miserable,
he persists in his silence,

the teacher addresses
the whole class

and asks who can save Max
from his ignorance.

Everybody yells
"Me! Me! Me!"

Finally the teacher chooses a student
who tells the correct answer.

So it seems,
that's what they say anyway,

if an Indian came here,
in the classroom,

it would be for him
an incredible cruelty,

like if he saw somebody
tortured to death.

And he'd want to bring Max
with him in his forest

with the other Indians.

Where did Guillaume
read this story?

- Or Matthias.
- I don't know.

Maybe an Indian told them.

You know, these two
they know everybody.

Listen,

don't you think we could have
this talk anywhere but here?

Don't you think we already spend
enough time in this damn school?

So, your grandma?

She said
she won't wait for me.

But she'll wait for me anyway.

You want it?

I wish I was an Indian.

An Indian woman.

It's not the same thing.

To be a man or a woman
it's not the same thing.

Sure.

But for Indians the difference
may not be the same.

Women come first
everywhere and always.

Don't they?

But at least where they live
there's no school.

I don't like Sundays.

So you see school is not
what bothers me the most.

Sundays are like a wasteland.

Well shit.

You know what Guillaume and Matthias
say about school?

And they're right.

School is the place where we witness
the children's pathetic surrender.

So how can you like school?

Who likes school here?

You.

I never said I liked school.

At school what I hate
the most is German.

And you?

I, yesterday,

when Ebben spoke about 'Tonio Kröger'
I felt like I understood.

Understood what?

When he said this sentence:

"the impossible place
of unspeakable desire".

Ebben is an old fart.

Thomas Mann too, by the way.

Reactionary and everything.

I don't care if Thomas Mann
is or isn't.

Look.

You know her?
I'm sure I know her.

Last evening I read
the whole 'Tonio Kröger'.

It's Anna.

Guillaume and Matthias' old friend.

They were activists together.

Now she lives elsewhere.

Now I understand
what Ebben wanted to say,

- after reading 'Tonio Kröger'.
- Listen Jenny!

Let's not always speak
about school.

We already spend
35 hours a week there.

Really you sat through 'Tonio Kröger'
in full and in German?

And it was good, really?

See like you avoid the question.

Anyway, I'll have
to sit through it too.

Jenny?

You're here?

Yes, what?

It's been an hour.

What are you doing in there?

You're sick?

Wait for me.

I think I slept a little.

I'm not used to drinking.

It's quiet here.

It feels good.

So, do you like
Guillaume and Matthias?

And Anna.

Isn't she great?

And she's so beautiful.

She's touching.

Touching?

She looks...

like she wasn't quite here.

Distant.

It's because you're impressed.

Sure.

But there's another thing.

And Matthias,

you think he's in love with her?

Don't you want to know?

It's true they're not
quite your friends yet.

You hardly know them.

Anyway, if it were true...

We're both comfy here.

It's so hot upstairs.

You know what
I wanted to tell you?

Do you find me changed?

You find me changed
yes or no?

- Why?
- Because.

I'm pregnant.

You're pregnant?

Oh my!

You're expecting a baby?

Yes.
Well, I'll know tomorrow.

You know,

I haven't told anyone yet.

Not even Guillaume.

No one.

Don't mind me.

Do you have a light?

Another one.

Come on let's go.

So you don't want to serve
me drinks anymore?

Come on, return home,
you're annoying everyone.

So, you don't care if...

What's good about coming home
is that nothing really changes.

Oh, these modern nights...

they're old as the world.

We had a friend,
he always said that.

Sandro.

Sandro, yes.

It was at least 10 years ago.

We were very young.

And I think we haven't
slept the whole year.

But Sandro slept even less.

He never could bring himself to sleep,
no matter what time is was.

On mornings we saw him
hang around the station.

Or in these little parks

where the lonely, the rootless,
the old wander.

And later during the day,
housewives.

If we asked him why he stayed awake
like that, he'd say he was waiting.

Or that he met someone.

But that in any case
one needs dedication.

Often he'd drag us with him.

And we roamed the city.

All night.

Saying nothing.

Paula, my friend Paula.

- Paula my sister?
- Yes, Paula your sister.

Paula opposed the luxury,
or the bad face of people.

Guillaume explained the world.

Good guys on the left,
bad guys on the right.

And Matthias sighed
revolution was still a long way off.

But it was only trivial words
we pretended to take seriously.

As if we only could
be moved or afraid.

As if we should ward off
the form of tenderness...

But it's not true!

Sandro was in love with Paula
and Paula wasn't, that's all.

And us...

we mostly thought about the leaflets
we had to hand out at dawn.

If we had to hold till morning
it wasn't for the leaflets,

it was for hope.

Each time Guillaume repeated

"no story tonight,
no story it's past midnight"

And you remember
how Sandro looked at you?

He looked at you
and said "What?

You want to waste summer?"

We were all ashamed.

Sometimes we went to a club.

Paula and Matthias were dancing together
and then there was a drunk.

He told us his life.

He told us his solitude.

We always were a little disappointed

because it wasn't really
what we were after.

And Sandro looked at us.

And he pretended
we were gluttons.

Blind and deaf gluttons.

One time we got kicked out of the bar,
I don't remember why.

I don't remember why.

And then Sandro said

"Oh these modern nights,
they're old as the world."

I never understood
why he said that.

But it was always like that.

On morning, tired, disappointed when
we had to split and get to bed,

Sandro said "Oh these modern nights,
they're old as the world."

Then we got in the habit
to say it too.

This summer when
we discovered the lake

we neglected since
the end of our childhood,

as if we decided to deprive
ourselves of it

to prove God knows what.

And Sandro said

"And Lake Geneva,
what are you doing about it?

Why don't we go there anymore?"

And he wiped
our false modesty out.

This peasant Guillaume objected but
we went almost every day this summer.

Yes, it's true.

Paula said that for her
the renewed pleasure of air and water

could continue beyond childhood.

But...

what happened to this Sandro?

It's in the distant past.

It's just before this spring
when we opened our arms

and spread our wings.

Young ladies,
don't listen this siren.

Before, we had an impossible life

and everything seemed possible.

- Now...
- What now what?

Now revolt and freedom
are strictly controlled

like once were submission
and obedience.

Pleasure and struggle are
formidable duties

like once...

to save ones soul.

Ah! You're great
you in the capitals!

- At least here...
- It's the same thing here.

But what's wrong with you?
Matthias!

Politics now...

It's an old old...

- You know what, Matthias?
- No!

Right.

Well done Anna.

Let's drink.

- Let's drink to plaintive silences.
- No.

Let me dream.

Let me just one time dream
you have no more to say.

But this Sandro...

That's it,
let's drink to Sandro.

Guillaume, you agree to drink to Sandro?

You won't refuse to drink to Sandro!

But were is this Sandro?
Do you know?

Yes.

Somewhere home in Piedmont.

If I had somewhere to go,
I'd go at the Indians.

Sandro said that too.

You haven't told me if you found
you supper I left on the stove.

Yes Granny, thanks,
I was quite happy.

You're not tired darling?

This afternoon
I'm going at Lise's.

We have an assignment.

Maybe I'll stay a little late.

You don't mind?

No darling.

But you should invite
your friend over.

I'd be glad to meet her.

Wednesday

There you go.

- I should be worried, but I'm...
- Proud.

Proud, proud.

Yet I shouldn't be.

At least that's
what they'll say.

I'm kind of relieved.

It's funny, don't you think?

You want to see it?

It's lovely you know.

I hid it
in my sister Paula's room.

If in the mirror at the bottom
there is a small yellow ring,

it's positive.

I never thought it was possible
I could expect a child.

A child, can you believe it?

Not exactly, no.

I believe it now but
I can't really imagine it.

It's beautiful.

We could give it a name.

Milan if it's a boy,
Florence if it's a girl.

So they never forget
their mother is Italian.

I wish I had a boy,
I think, and you?

Me?

But I'm not pregnant.

But I'm going
to have an abortion.

An abortion?

Do you see me with a kid at 18?

And Guillaume hates children.

Guillaume hates children?

No, but he doesn't want any,
that's all.

I'll tell him when
all will be taken care of.

My mother too.

There are enough cries
in this house.

I hurry before
my mother comes back.

Don't throw it away!

You want it as a gift?

Do you want tea?

Only if you want some.

It's Paula's record.

She played it when I was a kid
before I went to sleep.

After I finish school,
I'll live with her in Milan.

- And Guillaume?
- Oh! By then Guillaume...

I only know him from this year.
Less, actually.

He often was here,
at the café opposite the school.

With Matthias.

One day they paid my coke.

It suited me,
I had almost no money.

Then we talked.

That's how everything began.

At the start I preferred Matthias,
I think.

But Matthias was saying nothing.

Or he only told weird stories.

Then suddenly he stopped.

I never knew if he was done,
if I should smile or not.

It was very disconcerting.

I'd want an appointment
tomorrow at 3pm.

Lise Biazzi.

I thought you'd like it.

I got my appointments. Tomorrow
the shrink, Monday the gynecologist.

It must have fallen from the book.
It's Paula's handwriting.

It's funny, listen.
It looks like a letter.

No date.
Only "Sunday afternoon, August 67".

Another of these nights, Anna,
when we have been stolen,

when we told ourselves
we must be persistent,

not sleep, see the day being born
in the morning's whitening.

That we could believe even one minute
that all would begin, that we'd see all,

that we'd sing like dawn's sirens
with sunrise's colossuses.

But once more, Anna,
we washed up on the beach.

I was lying between
Sandro and Guillaume,

and you were making love
with Matthias in the woods.

I had enough of this never-ending walk,
of these lost mornings' pale light,

and I was very cold.
I wished that Guillaume...

but like always
out of consideration for Sandro...

Finally I fell asleep,
and I had a weird dream.

In my hand's palm
I felt the heat of a close flesh.

On a bridge, a girl
with dark hair passed.

Then my fingers closed
on the void, only void.

The girl's dark hair
was floating.

Then under my own flesh
my nails screamed.

The girl turned over,

and all I saw was a huge mouth
soaked with lipstick

while the big sunflowers
on her dress shone like gold.

You don't have dark hair, Anna,
but it was your dress.

And on the sand all I saw
were petrified corpses,

lying like sticks,
like deadwood.

When I woke up, Guillaume and Sandro
were smoking by the water

having a ricochet contest.

I heard Guillaume say

"A woman in love is
always an idiot".

You and Matthias were gone.

I had a great sadness.

Then when Guillaume,
while we were eating,

continued this never-ending chitchat
about the oppressed class,

I said an activist like me,
like you, with them,

we were like two nuns persisting
in riding a bicycle against the wind

despite the cornette
and the loose robe.

Sandro laughed,
but not Guillaume.

And now I'm alone here,

I think my parents went
to the beach with Lise.

And I don't know where you are.

It must be Sandro
who gave this book to Paula.

It's Jenny, Jenny Kern, we're working
on our report for Saturday.

It's not common to meet you
so late, miss Kern.

I had dinner at Lise's.

And I haven't had dinner at all.

I walk Anna to the station,
and then...

I went around in circles.

Lausanne is a good town
to go around in circles.

It's why I can't leave.

In New York for example,

you can't go around in circles.

Either you go straight to the point,
or you go off on a tangent...

You went to New York?

Never.

And I'm proud of it.

Why?

Because I prefer
to go around in circles.

But why are you proud of it?

It's like that.

It must be a set phrase
from the cold war, an habit.

You want one?

It smells like war.

Don't you think
it smells like war?

It's because
you have no sense of smell.

Look.

They're waiting for something huge.

The town's collapse.

The Apocalypse.

Don't force yourself
to finish it.

Last night when we talked
I understood.

I'm an old man
thinking he's a youngster.

I watch my life
like someone else's.

I know who I am.

Where I come from.

What I do.

But...

Are you cold?

Do you need to come home?

My grandma is waiting for me.

They're waiting for me too.

Morons.

I'll walk you.

But they're waiting for you.

It's even better
I love to stand them up.

Thursday

What are you looking at?

Show me.

It's for your report?

It's true Lise is pregnant?

Marianne told Danielle.

- You must know about it.
- No.

Hi.

Do you want a coffee Pascale?

We don't have time.

Do you feel sick?

Who feels sick here?

So you skip
housekeeping instruction?

I don't really skip, I told you
I must go with a friend.

So you go to the doctor?

Are you coming Jenny?

I asked her what to say
to the shrink

and she thinks it gave her
all the rights.

You're going to be late.

No, I'm coming with you.

We're early.

I'm afraid.

I don't know
what to say anymore.

Why not simply
tell the truth?

You're crazy!

Psychiatrists are nutjobs.

You must tell them stories.

I'll never make it!

What floor?

Third.

I'm going.

Wait for me.

Miss Biazzi, I presume.

It didn't work?

Goodness, astounding!

With this certificate,
it will surely work.

Astounding.

What's wrong?

What happened?

Tell me.

What did you tell him?

The truth.

That I was 17,
that my parents were dead,

that I couldn't have a child.

He fell for it?

He asked me why I was shivering.

If it happened often.

It was emotion.

Maybe.

He told me to come back.

That I was...

That maybe the situation
wasn't the only cause.

I told you so.

Psychiatrists...

all are nutjobs.

Let's go for a drink?

No, today I'd rather go home.

Listen, darling.

I read that Mr Muller, colonel,
is deceased.

And then, Mr Adolphe Vuinée, builder,
deceased too the same day.

So equal before death.

In life, certainly
they would have never met.

And here they are,
side-by-side in the paper.

What are you studying Jenny?

What are you looking at?

Photographs.

Really?
Photographs of what?

Photographs of Indians.

For your report no doubt.

You want some herbal tea?

If you're having some, yes.

Friday

7 plus 7, 14.

Plus 5, 19.

Plus 6, 25.

Divided by 4, it makes...

Shit, 6,2.

I need an average of 7
to make up for my 5 in physics.

You think we'll get a 9
for this report?

With a 9 it'd make
25 plus 9, 34

divided by 5

6,6.

It's too low.

Better get a 9,5.

What are you doing?
I can't see anything.

Where did you find it?

At the bookshop,
I stole them.

You stole the book?

Only the photographs,
I cut them with a razor blade.

You're crazy,
it's much more dangerous!

I only wanted the photographs.

It's time, ladies.

Comparing the time on my watch
and the clock in the courtyard

I saw that it was
much later than I thought.

You must hurry.

Or else...

I won't find my way home.

After all, Lausanne
is not my town.

I have to make a considerable effort
to notice distinctive details.

Then finally,
what does it matter?

It's since the nomadic times,

when we had to memorize
places of pasture,

that we overestimate the question
of where we are.

Once...

I crossed the street
away from the crosswalk.

The officer stopped me
"But where are you going?"

and I said

"And you, officer,
where are you going?"

He told me to cross.

Yet it's true.

Who, nowadays,
knows where they're going?

Even though it's so important
to know where to go.

Did you see that?

Wouldn't that be
the old Charles?

They must have released him
under guardianship.

- Who is it?
- Charles Dé.

The guy you're seeing here,
it's Charles Dé.

He was an industrialist
like the others.

Wife, kids, money,

everything to be happy.

And then one day in 68-69,
for whatever reason,

the TV came to interview him.

He told his life.

But not at all what we expected.

He confessed to the viewer.

He really talked.

The show really caused a stir.

Then Charles disappeared.

Then we heard he was living
in Geneva's suburbs

at some guy and his wife.

The family, worrying more
for the money than for him,

had him followed by a detective

and handed him in to the lawyers
and psychiatrists.

- And they committed him?
- Yes.

It's a major scandal to prefer
the search for your identity

over custom and money.

It doesn't make us any younger.

Especially as if this story
were to happen today

it would end the same.

There would be support committees
getting agitated for a few months

to defend this poor Charles...

But, exactly, it shows
things get better.

- People are taking responsibility.
- I think it's worse.

They are vultures, people who
appropriate the story of others

to solve their own problems.
- Shit.

Anna threw you off balance.

Good evening ladies and gents,
it's time.

Shit, they were
the only ones missing.

I'm fed up with it.

Fed up with this bullshit town
where pubs always close too early.

And with the cops!

Except for luxury clubs of course.

And your grand-mother?

I'm sleeping at your place.

Ah, it's true.

Well.

We won't leave
each other like that.

Especially after all the nonsense
Matthias deluged us with.

So, where are we going?
To a dance club?

Slow down kids.

Don't forget
you're still underage.

Matthias,
do you have an idea?

I wish we could go somewhere,
but everything is closed.

We can always walk down
to the station.

What are you thinking Matthias?

Let's go.

What are all these lights for,
in a town where everybody sleeps?

And you?
What are you for?

What are we looking for,
at night on the streets?

Something to break
the course of the day.

I'm sure the craziest things happen
in a room in Lausanne...

In a café, in a bus.

Even at school.

Attention passengers,
train from Geneva,

to Bern, via Fribourg,
departs 2.48am.

What are you doing?
You're crazy or what?

You hurt me.

- Are you OK?
- Yes, and you?

Look.

He bit me.

He's crazy.

Miss, could you remove your feet
from the chair please?

[in Italian]
What did he say?

[in Italian]
I don't understand.

Miss, could you tell your friend
to remove her feet, please.

[in English]
What's the matter with you?

Enough you two!
Lise, remove your feet.

What are you doing
humiliating him like that?

Poor guy who wakes at 3AM
to serve you breakfast.

Little bourgeoisie.

We can't always
think of everything.

Glad you're here
to keep an eye out.

Glad you're here
to call us to order.

Lise, what's with you?
What's wrong with you?

I've had enough of this!

You know what?

For a girl like me,

your morality,

it's like if
I became a nun

and persisted in riding
a bicycle against the wind,

despite my cornette

and my loose robe.

I'm tired of it all.

We smoke too much,
we drink too much.

Let's sleep.

You're right.

Let's live a healthy life.

Sunday, we'll have
a great hike in the snow.

What do you think?

Lise, let's get some fresh air.

What do you think Matthias?

To get some fresh air in the country?

In this season in the country
all that lives hides under the ground.

And the smell that dominate,

is gasoline.

The country is still healthier.

And we'll walk.

And we'll become
real healthy animals,

strong

and selfish.

Of this sweet selfishness of our
useless fattening contemporaries.

It's not a shame to love nature.

Who's accusing you?

Only I tell you,

nature does not care about us.

It doesn't stop us from
going on a walk on Sunday.

We'll go to the Jorat woods.

And then in this inn
to drink hot chocolate with cream.

White wine.

Or red wine.

Saturday

We can't even sleep.

There's this damn report this morning.

Then German.

Jenny you'll sit next to me,
I didn't prepare anything.

[in German] "I have listened
to you faithfully, Tonio,

from beginning to end,

and I will give you the answer

to everything
you have said this afternoon

and the solution

of the problem
that has been upsetting you.

Now: the solution is that you,
as you sit there,

are, quite simply, a bourgeois."

What do you think
of this interpretation?

What do you think

of Lisabeta Ivanovna's judgment
of Tonio Kröger?

Yes, you.

Thomas Mann is a bourgeois,
so is Tonio.

Lisabeta Ivanovna is right.

Do you really think so?

No other opinion?

Let's continue.
Please read on.

Yes, please.

"Am I? he asked
a little crestfallen.

Yes, that hits you hard,
it must.

So I will soften the judgment

just a little.

You are a bourgeois
on the wrong path,

a bourgeois manqué."

Yes, please.

"Silence.

Then he got up resolutely and
took his hat and stick.

Thank you, Lisabeta lvanovna;

now I can go home
in peace.

I am expressed."

Thomas Mann's irony

allows to assume
a difficult position.

The irony allows
to assume ambivalence.

The sentence "I am expressed"

reveals the failure of dialogue

between people of the same type.

Because Lisabeta Ivanovna
is also an artist,

Tonio Kröger could have found
understanding from her.

But Tonio pretends
to accept her verdict

and returns to silence,

to the silent monologue

of writing.

This morning was hard.

You see I was right
about Thomas Mann.

Sure.

[in German]
"I am expressed."

So Miss,
glad that the week is over?

Yes.

I'd like to write my German report
on this sentence you said Monday.

That you said Monday
about Thomas Mann.

- The search for the impossible place...
- Excuse me Miss,

we'll see about it
on Monday, will you?

- Bye.
- Bye.

- What are you doing?
- I really must go home.

I must sleep.
Lucky my parents are at the cabin.

- Still good for tomorrow?
- Yes, probably.

How do we find each other?

Say 2pm at Chalet-à-Gobet?
No, 2:30.

Unless Guillaume finds a car.

If anything happens
I call you tonight.

Not too late.

No no, I call you
before 10pm. Bye.

...snow cover on the main
winter sports resorts.

Anzère:
280cm powdery snow.

Champéry-Planachaux:
150cm fresh snow.

Château-d'Œx: 100cm...

I thought you were in your room.

You're waiting for a call?

At this hour?

- Good night darling.
- Good night Granny.

Sunday

- Hello Mr Charles.
- Hello Ms Jenny.

- There isn't a lot of people today.
- No. It's Sunday.

We eat the chicken
with our family.

Last night...

No, the night before.

I heard your story.

My story?

My story.

The others made stories
about me.

And they called it an accident.

A psychiatric accident.

As if I were a straight road

and I became a rugged path.

I am a rugged path.

You see,
at certain times,

life imperceptibly
slows down.

As if it was reluctant
to carry on,

or wished to change directions.

It's at these times perhaps

that accidents happen
most easily.

I brought you this.

Today Mr Charles,
I'm going to walk in the snow.

Like my late mother said,
beware of the cold.

You know what, Ms Jenny?

The Indians are still far away.

Tuesday morning,
December 4th 1976,

the body of young Jenny Kern,
a student at Lausanne City High School,

was found around 7.45am
in the Jorat woods.

The cause of death would be
cold exposure and exhaustion.