Original subtitles

Chronicle Of A Summer

a MAI HARRIS TITLE Version

This film, made without actors, was lived by men and women....

...who devoted some of their time to an experiment...

...in filming the truth.

A round table discussion is an excellent idea...

But I wonder if it's feasible...

to record a conversation naturally with a camera present.

For example, will Marceline relax and talk normally?

She can try.

It won't be easy.

I'm bound to feel nervous.

Nervous of what?

Nervous in case...

I may not be able to cope.

You're not nervous now?

Not yet.

Then you'll be all right.

Morin and I only want you to...

...to answer some questions.

Anything you object to can always be cut.

All right?

As long as you go easy...

He's the bully!

Get cracking, Morin.

Right! Here goes.

You've no idea of the questions...

Nor have we for that matter. What we have in mind...

is a film on how people live.

You're our starting point: how do you live?

In other words, what do you do with your life?

We begin with you, because you're at the centre of our experiment.

What do you do all day?

Work, mostly.

I'm with a market research firm.

I interview people...

Analyse and report on the interviews.

The job keeps me busy...

Like it?

When you leave home in the morning...

Have you a plan for the day?

I know what I ought to do.

But I don't always do it.

I never know what I'll do next day.

I Live on the principle that tomorrow can take care of itself

For me, adventure is always just around the corner.

If we sent you out to ask people...

If they were happy-would you do it?

Excuse me, are you happy?

He said, buzz off.

It's all right, we won't bite.

It depends what you mean. I'm happily married...

Can't you tell from my face?

You seem very bright.

Yes, I'm happy to be alive... even if I am 60...

And I've a long journey to work every day...

I've my health and a kind husband.

It all depends...

Depends what money you have. Life's no fun for the workers.

I've my share of troubles.

But you're not unhappy?

My sister's dead...

At 44...I'm pretty browned off, you can take it from me.

I don't even try to understand any more.

Are you unhappy?

Question of philosophy...

We're conducting an enquiry into happiness.

And you've no name to quote? What about Descartes, for instance ?

I'm just reading this...

We're conducting an enquiry...

Can't you talk?

Try me out of uniform!

I've been happy, I've been sad. I've had a bit of everything...

You can't have life all your own way.

I'm unhappy because I'm old.

I'm 79...

Born in'82.

Are old people always unhappy?

I've lost my wife.

I'm all on my own, there's the rent for my room to pay each month.

Are you happy too?

We're young, it's fine...

Daniel told me you were willing to be interviewed.

I've only one question to ask.

Do your living conditions satisfy you?

We don't go short of anything...All we want is to get on in the world.

We mustn't grumble, I suppose.

Frankly, we can't grumble. We don't. But...

To get anywhere, you must work.

That's not the point. We still have to fiddle a bit to make out.

It's true...I'm just answering you.

No one could manage if they stuck to the letter of the law.

If I invoiced all my customers...

If I didn’t fiddle the books, we couldn’t go on.

Sometimes I'm happy... depends...

Paris isn't much fun, let's face it. Fumes, no sun...

They work all week; Sunday they spend in fear of damaging the car.

They set up table and chairs by the roadside...

An unmade lane might damage the car.

It'll take them hours driving home. Call that sane?

Do you live differently?

I try to..we try to...

Doing things just for the fun of it.

What kind of things?

Well, my friends and I muck about

on things that'll never be useful

And generally waste our time...

What's your name?

Henri, I hear you're happy?

I don't know... I don't consider happiness an aim.

I try to live... a normal life...

To be honest with myself...

The fact we're 2 now alters nothing.

We just try to work it out together.

What about you?

I lived at home till I was 17.

Then I went into business with friends

To make money quickly...naturally!

Hard work is really a waste of time... especially just to earn money.

We got hold of Louis Philippe chests

Took them to pieces...

And made them up as Louis XVI antiques

People were taken in by the old wood.

It's not easy to tell the real age...

Sometimes we added pillars either side

And we reduced the drawers to three.

Later we even faked Louis XIV pieces.

We added curves and fresh veneer.

Did the job pay?

It paid all right ...but I left,

Now they're suing me...That's typical of the business world.

It's ghastly! I made nothing out of it, but I learned my lesson.

It's a dead loss.

I'm a painter... I've no theories...

Painting's the way I learn. I love it...

And it helps me understand other artists.

What do you do every day?

We've been together for a year and a half now...

It's been like a honeymoon...

We stayed in bed most mornings... reading...

In the afternoons we painted...

At least we have the last six months.

We always wanted to travel and last May we went... It was our honeymoon.

We were away till September...

We rented a studio in an old house... in the Camargue.

We were flat broke and we had to pay our way somehow.

Our great discovery was that life's the same there as here...

I painted names on boats...anything... We lived well on 2 hours work a day.

We lay about in the sun, did some painting...

I don't worry about happiness...

It's an empty word anyway.

Happiness, unhappiness, it's all one.

They shouldn't be in the dictionary.

Grief is another matter...

We haven't much money, but even friends, who are well off, don't have...

...the books and records we do.

When we sell a painting...

We buy something to make life richer...

When I think that every morning you get up at the same time...

You have breakfast...take the same old road to the station...

You arrive at the station...

Go up the steps, get in the train...

You go in by the same gate every day...

Clock in...

Sit at your desk and draw...

It's the same at lunch...

You talk, eat, go back to work, and in the evening...

You take the train, go home, eat, go to bed...

It's always the same and quite fatuous.

When I reach the factory gates in the morning, I feel certain...

I'll rebel. Then I think to myself, what the hell!

I've never heard anyone say his job interests him.

You feel the same way, Angelo?

Just about.

Lots of fellows want to get on, go up a step...

Workers want to be technicians...

Technicians want to be...

I don't know... engineers, perhaps.

So they go to classes...

That's the hope...But what do they leave for? To go job-hunting.

Lots leave and find themselves job-hunting so they come back.

Some start their own businesses...and succeed. Those who don't come back.

Office workers face the same problem.

It's the same wherever you work...

Whatever the firm. In the factory...

It's the same. The job is so split up, so organised...

With a monotonous job...And you get browned off with it, always the same.

I think...I work 24 hours a day...

True, we only do a 9 hour shift...

But the remainder of the time...

You use to sleep, so you can work.

So it comes to the same thing- work all the time.

You wanted to meet Landry, and here he is.

Why are you here?

I'm a student at Villeneuve.

It's a pleasant spot.

I work at Renault's.

That's a household word in Africa.

It's the only make of car we know!

But I couldn't work in a factory.

You're shut in....

Surrounded by noise all day.

You're right, it's frightful!

I don't know how we stick it.

The rules, the bad feeling among the men...

The bullying by foremen and management.

That's what's so awful.

You couldn't face it, you say...

But sometimes it's that or nothing.

When you came to France...

And everything, everybody was new...

That's what I'd like to hear about.

I knew absolutely nobody... no one...

I'd no idea how the French lived...

But I managed to get by...somehow.

For a man like me... it's not easy.

An African in France is...must adapt.

Another thing...Events sometimes...

People do get inferiority complexes...

That certainly goes for me...

That's what I wanted to ask you...

Do you still suffer from it?

Not any more. I soon realised that...

France isn't like French Africa.

No Colour bar?

Not quite, but I've a system to beat it.

When the door shuts, I turn and go.

That's the spirit!

What do you think of the workers?

In France? I don't know what to think.

I really don't. Every little workman...

...owns his car, has a good time.

Maybe it's not like in Africa...

At Renault 80% of the chaps have cars.

The French worker's an individualist.

He only works for himself.

He wants his salary so he plugs away...

He scrimps and saves...

To keep up with the Joneses.

But he's a poor type...honestly!

I'm always broke but I like my food.

Some of the fellows at Renaults...

...live on bread and cheese.

But as you say, they've a car.

Naturally, you say the French worker...

...never had it so good.

He can't afford a car, a home...

But don't believe it.

I live with them, I know.

Meet a worker in a restaurant...

And he'll be all dolled up...

But for all that, he's poor.

He scrimped and saved for that suit.

It's all an act...a joke...

On Monday he'll be back at the bench...

You wouldn't think him the same man.

I remember the years you had no home...

The way it affected your whole life.

Now you're at Clichy...

It's airy...quiet...

But talk to us about this problem.

Having no home was frightening.

It's terrible to be at others' mercy.

First we were in a boarding house...

We heard everything through the walls.

And fleas! I wanted to sleep out.

Naturally, I didn't want her to.

I'd never seen a bug before!

I woke up about 5 in the morning...

I didn't know what the spots were.

Then one fine day when I woke...

One of the creatures was on the wall...

The first I'd seen! I gave a yell!

They were nothing new to me.

But Simone wanted to sleep out...

And I didn't want it. The idea was...

Anything can happen at night...

I didn't want her sleeping on the grass.

I had told a friend at work...

And she had said that bugs were...

Funny...like drops of blood on you.

I lay awake all night thinking...

I could feel the blood. It was awful!

I was wondering: are you happy?

More or less.

I'm ashamed to admit it...money.

To do what I'd like...

Devote time to my interests.

It comes to the same, because with money you can do as you like.

Why are you happy now?

I count myself pretty lucky because...

I love my family and I like my job...

Work for me is time wasted...

But you fought...

We both fought for a better life.

Let's forget it...

Ideals can't ...always be realised.

Either you accept or refuse...

What life offers.

One's got to be adaptable...

Anyone wholly adaptable is lucky.

I became a mental battleground...

Part of me adapts, the rest doesn't.

And what happens to the rest?

Well, I keep it intact...

Or rather, I watch jealously over it.

And what is this thing?

The real me.

I think the tragedy of our times...

Is that hardly anyone chooses his job.

You don't select- you fall into it.

You must have...if not a degree...

At least a job...official employment.

Otherwise no papers no work permit.

A man today...What is a man today?

An identity card...a bundle of forms.

That's the man of today, isn't it?

Not everyone's an artist...or even a craftsman now! Now...we're machines...

Fighting boredom in a dull job.

Without interest or purpose...

Yet obviously the job must be done.

It must be endured until 6 o'clock.

After 6 you try to rediscover yourself.

Become another man...another person.

He's alive, real!

But he's still a prisoner...

The working man holds the handcuffs.

Slowly, involvement with one's job...

...must be reduced in favour of...

What I call 'one's marginal life'.

Is there anything you believe in?

I believe in life...I believe...

In the possibility of fulfilment...

In spite of and because of everything.

You're 27, an Italian living in Paris.

These 3 years are in total contrast...

...to your life in Cremona...

In a middle class home.

Here you live in a maid's room...

You're a foreigner, you know men...

You've come to know Paris...

You've made new friends...

Is there anything new left for you?

You spoke of the change in my life...

My maid's room has had its uses...

I spent several winters there.

There was no heating...

I'd never been cold or gone without...

It was a sop to my conscience.

I was glad to have a hard time...

It was the first time I'd ever worked.

I'd wake up at 7, exhausted, but...

Almost glad of the rush hour crowd.

I think I really felt I belonged.

But that...that didn't last.

Now I'm sick of my room and the cold.

I'm sick of the tube in the rush hour.

And I don't...I find human contact...

I dislike it... it's pointless.

But you've some aim... a hope?

To be honest...I don't know.

Sometimes I'm happy to be in Paris...

I feel I've made up for lost time...

When I came here I felt stranded....

I was shut up in myself...isolated...

...when I was in Italy.

I'd exhausted my inner resources.

I wanted to come up against reality.

I wonder if this was the right way.

For example I drink... you see...

I...I wanted to get rid of...

...of alibis when I came to France.

I wanted to live on my own terms.

I've destroyed the false reasoning...

Only to find it again in drink, men...

To put it baldly...in trash.

But what do you mean by reality?

Is it a job that interests you?

Doing what you like? Or is it to live...

..with a man you love, not have affairs.

I want a job that doesn't scare me...

To live with some one...for an hour...

Two hours, a month, two weeks even.

Just to be with him...without...

...any ghosts to stop me loving him.

To get outside myself... to die even...

Provided I'm in touch with something...

Instead of being forced back on myself.

I've not even the right...

To kill myself...It would be an act.

Why are you forced back on yourself?

If only I knew...

Jean Pierre, you're twenty and a student.

How do you make out in life?

Well, I live, I agree...I manage.

Perhaps better than most students.

But only by horrible compromises...

Accepting that I can't change things

Once I accept that I'm hamstrung, then I've no...I've no problems.

I don't think my generation...or any other...can get along...

Until this impotence is accepted.

I'm talking of real incapability.

For example, I failed my exams...

I tried living with a woman...

We tried to make each other happy...

But it went wrong, it was futile...

The same with politics...

Not that that matters much now...

I don't have political theories...

I still have my ideals, of course.

But I don't get worked up over them.

I wouldn't take any positive action.

I can justify myself intellectually.

I've seen what commitment does...

The impotence before obstacles...

Not for me... I've seen so many...

practically reduced to tears by it.

Left shattered...helpless...

It applies to almost all of you.

It's my justification to keep out.

But deep down I know it's false...

It's a lack of courage...

Emotionally even egoism.

Despite dreams of high moments...

One's forced to realise...Or I was.

That life's grey...all neutral tints

There's no black or white...

Just varying shades of grey.

I...I feel responsible for it all.

I introduced you to people...

...broken by political experiences.

Not excluding myself...

When you talk of making a woman happy

I know you mean me.

So I feel responsible because... in a way...

I took you out of your own world.

When Jean Pierre says impotence...

Marceline thinks of the word failure

I've felt a failure for a long time.

When I met Jean Pierre...

I did so want to avoid it for him.

I didn't want him to feel like me.

I thought... I would make him happy...

But...it was another failure.

And not only a failure for me...

But a painful experience for him.

Because I think he still loves me.

Up to this point, the film has been restricted...

...to a relatively personal world.

Now it expands to take in the events of the summer of 1960.

Fire away!

If I was a student now, particularly a young man...

...at the age for military service

The war in Algeria would worry me.

You couldn't care less.

Of course I care. Even If it's only because one day...

In a year, two years, ten years...

The Algerian war will be fantastic film material.

You're talking as an artist...

That's all well and good...

If a majority of Frenchmen showed opposition...

What for?

Why, to make this stupid war end!

But why should France give in?

She's got certain rights...

The war'll end in negotiations...

Like every other war

The G.P.R.A. probably can't end it.

That's not the point.

It's become a habit...

Something we take for granted.

Crimes are taking place out there...

And people turn a blind eye.

Students are part of the problem.

That should affect you personally.

I criticise youth today...

For not playing their part.

Your heart's not in it.

The youth you talk of is a myth!

Yes, a myth you've created!

Aspiring youth...glorious...active!

Not so...Active youth, maybe!

We're 20, so we're dispensable!

Everyone seems in a fog at the moment about the Algerian war...

Even people who usually have definate opinions...solutions...

If we're to clear up this mess...

We've all got to take a hand.

Everyone must act, and forget group thinking...abstract words...

We've got to start with ourselves!

Take a gamble, and make France take a gamble...

With the idea that men can finally stamp out this war.

F.L.N. COUNTER- ATTACKS

DESPERATE NEWS FROM CONGO WHITES

I'd never marry a coloured man.

Why?

In my case, it wouldn't work.

I can understand loving a...

A negro!

You don't like negroes...

You're a sex racialist.

I'm not...it's not racialism.

Unless I felt attracted, I couldn't have an affair with anyone...

Negroes don't attract you?

I don't think it's possible...

But only because I don't want to... I remember two years ago on July 14th...

I didn't have...but I remember it was the first time...

For the first time at a July 14th ball I danced with a coloured man...

It touched you?

His dancing was so extraordinary.

I must protest...You see in France negroes...

are usually liked for their dancing...

I'd like it to be for other reasons.

Right...But we're really here to discuss the Congo...

...with our African friends.

But before we start, I wonder if...

Despite the prominence given by the press to events out there...

Do we in Paris ...feel real concern about it?

Are all of you here concerned, and if so by what?

I know I felt actually physically involved after watching a T.V. report.

After showing some scenes and mentioning some events...

The commentator finished up: "You see how people use independence."

Coming to the Congo, Belgium said: "Good, there's money to be made."

No that's not right. The first idea was no privileged class, no trouble.

I agree with Landry, It's...

I lived a year in Leopoldville, with the nuns who were raped.

It was ghastly! The Africans were cooped up together...

They weren't allowed in certain parts of the city.

Do other Africans feel involved?

Is there racial unity as negroes?

Do you feel responsible?

Of course.

It's an explosion of anger really.

If it had been two African states...

Other Africans would stay aloof.. But white man and black...

You see...all the African nations were colonies once...

So in a case of white ill-treatment...

They all feel they share the other's sufferings.

This isn't a good example...

But in the case of anti-Semitism...

I'd fight it.. If it's a German Jew...

A Polish, Russian, or American Jew!

Landry, have you noticed...

The number on Marceline's arm?

What do you think it is?

I've no idea.

Couldn't say...I know sailors...

tattoo themselves but she's not one.

A fancy of hers maybe?

A heart would look better.

It's not a phone number, too long...

This isn't a V, it's a triangle...

Half of the Jewish star.

The six-pointed star is a Jewish symbol.

The number...isn't my phone number...

As a Jewess, I was deported during the war...

It's my concentration camp number.

I've seen a film about them.

The Place de la Concorde is empty...

Empty like it was twenty...fifteen years ago...I can't remember now.

"You'll see...

"we'll go there...work in the factories.

"We'll see each other on Sundays," father said.

And you used to answer me...

"You're young, you'll come back."

"I'll never return."

And here I am in the place de la Concorde

I came back, you stayed.

We'd been there six months before I saw you.

We fell into each other's arms.

Then that dirty S.S. officer...

...hit me in front of you.

You said, "She's my daughter."

He made to hit you...

You had an onion in your hand...

You put it in mine and I fainted.

When I saw you, you asked, "Mother and Michel?"

You called me your little girl...

I was almost happy to be deported, I loved you so much.

I wish you were here now.

When I came back... it was hard.

I saw them all at the station... mother, everyone...

They kissed me...My heart felt like a stone...

It was Michel who softened it...

I said, "Don't you know me?"

He said, "Yes, I think so... I think you're Marceline."

Well, Marilou... it's a month since we had our discussion...

It's August now... and there's one thing that struck me.

Two nights ago walking along...

I told you about a question I’d put in this film.

I asked Jacques and his wife: "Are you happy?

They answered: "More or less".

You said you'd give the same answer.

Yet when I saw you a fortnight ago...

You were very depressed, and feeling none too well.

Yet you can answer , more or less?

Once again... I don't know what's happening to me.

It's like ... the 14th July...all over again.

The faces of all the people I'd known were pressing in on me...

I didn't know what to do...

I thought I was done for...

I think things came to a head that night.

Afterwards there were two days of emptiness.

And then quite suddenly...things fell into place...

People became real again...

I left my fantasy world... Everything became straightforward.

Did it happen suddenly... on its own?

From the moment I began...

To see...the people around me... to feel part of life...

I became ready...ready for anything.

For ...I don't know ...friendship...

And for love.

And that changed everything?

Yes, but one thing's strongest of all.

Fear...Despite everything, fear!

The same thing may happen as before.

I'll find myself alone again...cut off...

You won't again.

What do you expect me to say?

I can't talk about it.

Edgar tells me you're in trouble.

What happened?

That morning...in the workshop... I started work again after you left...

Some one told me I was wanted in the office...

I thought it was about my work. But it wasn't that at all.

The boss said: "So you're in films."

"What's that to do with my job", I says.

"Forget it, it's not that, "he says.

"You've got to change shops."

They never stopped pestering me. And yesterday morning...

The foreman came up to me and said...

"Finish these ten parts and I'll leave you in peace this afternoon."

So I went all out and did them...

When I'd finished it was nearly 1 o clock...

But he brought me 20 more. "you're here to work,"he said.

It was too much, I nearly went for him.

I realised he was out to break me...

So I took my cards and left.

I left because Jacques and Gontrand said to me,"You got to go".

"Or you'll be beating them up and that won't do at present."

What prospects have you at Renault?

None.

Won't you be foreman one day?

Definitely no, not a hope!

DESPERATE NEWS FROM CONGO WHITES

So Landry became an African explorer in holiday France.

It's awful...awful!

He's trying to kill it quickly.

The passes are beautiful...beautiful.

It's beautiful to watch.

They come to see animals die...

Such are the joys of provincial life!

St. Tropez is a town... in some ways a village.

It reminds me of black Africa.

The same old houses and red roofs.

St. Tropez! Even in the interior, Africans talk about it.

I'd heard of St. Tropez in the Jungle.

The women here are very strange!

They wear bikinis and do all they can to attract attention.

Nothing is too fantastic...

When I think that back home... because in some regions

Women wear leaves to hide their sex...

The colonials laugh at us...

But in a bikini a woman hides nothing at all.

It's not such fun being a model...

But I'm getting used to it.

I've got to make a living, and publicity photos bring in a bit.

That's the only reason I do it.

Anyway, the critics are the first...

To ask for a photo, because back home...

It looks good to have a snap taken with a St. Tropez girl.

They enjoy showing it to their friends.

That's taking the mass viewpoint.

There are plenty who don't think like that.

Only a minority.

The masses-and that goes for us- haven't advanced very far.

Catherine, you're silent.

I don't want to think. All I want to do is swim...ski... especially here.

All the same I'd like Sophie's opinion. You know St. Tropez well?

Not really well. You need to live...

...some time in a place for that.

I was here last year...for the shows...

...at the various casinos... I rented...

...a little villa...Now the stock question is: Enjoying St. Tropez?"

It sounds good to say: "It's a bore."

It's current snobbery to answer: "It's a bore". It's the done thing.

That's it...people are bored everywhere now.

But boredom comes from within.

Because if you've...if you've your own inner life you're never bored.

Very sweet and simple in their little built-up bras!

There are lots of stars here and they draw the producers.

So all the little girls from Paris come with their bikinis and tights...

Their long hair and mascara...

Their eyes made up just so... very chic.

They all hope to meet a producer.

They've everything-except brains, and we can't all have them.

St. Tropez is a really lovely spot... With fantastic scenery.

A pity about the people! But why hold it against St.Tropez?

Personally, I'm not bored down here... And that's that.

You know we're making a film?

I heard about it vaguely.

Well, we can't agree. Rouch thinks life is fun...

I don't.

That's a bit much! I think...

I'm inclined to agree with Rouch.

Why is it fun?

Well...perhaps it's because we're on holiday.

And holidays apart?

We've no experience. We're not like you...

You go out with Mother at night. Isn't that fun?

Why is life so dreary suddenly?

I've an idea you...But you don't know the lives French children lead.

Don't these two girls surprise you? Must be different on the Ivory Coast?

Life's not all the same of course.

At home, at..at six , a girl already...

She has begun to live.

At seven, I could already cook.

We do nothing but school work...

Except for the odd job now and then.

It's a mistake. You should learn.

You shouldn't take life too easy, because one day...

You'll have more to do than odd jobs.

Go on, go on, put your foot there...

Angelo ...put your foot there and hold on here.

Go on, put your foot up higher!

You've made it!

I nearly didn't with you shouting.

I only shouted because you were being so stupid.

Your arms are stronger than mine.

And you can use them even if you don't know where to put your feet!

Take your foot off and hold the rope behind you.

Let go.. and keep away from the rock.

Let go of the rock! Don't be afraid.

You're doing nicely!

Go on, let go!

Put your hand behind and catch the rope.

It's over there, to one side.

Use your other hand.

Now you've seen yourself on the screen, Edgar and I want your views.

First the children...

Did you like what you saw?

Charlie Chaplin's better.

What was your impression?

I don't know. You tell me.

Some say it's not true; others, it is.

What's not true? Cameras can't lie.

The fact is when they tried to express themselves...

They mostly used generalities.

And that's not true to life.

The talk between Landry and Angelo...

...is a mass of generalities.

On the contrary, It's marvelous!

They share the same problems.

It's not true

They made contact. You could say they discovered each other.

It was a meeting of like minds.

In my opinion, it's the truest scene we did because...

We watch their friendship develop.

That Landry and Angelo like each other is obvious...

But that's not my point. The scene is so unnatural, so artificial!

I can't agree, because at the time I didn't know anything about Landry.

When I began talking to him...

I forgot the cameras. I was caught up in the discussion.

I found the film extremely embarrassing.

Actually part of it was very boring.

But the rest was quite indecent.

I feel that to obtain even the tiniest grain of truth...

The subject has usually to be alone and on the verge of hysteria...

That is, if it's to talk of anything very intimate.

With that method, you'll only obtain artificial Scenes...

Or scenes bordering on-or which in fact are completely indecent.

As for meeting some of these people...

Forgive me , but I'd rather not.

Marilou made me squirm horribly...

She stripped herself too bare.

I thought Marilou was wonderful and I'm longing to meet her.

To me, Maxie's views are monstrous.

Her reactions are the type which hinder the emergence of truth.

Marilou doesn't act in front of the camera.

She is uninhibitedly in search of herself.

The same goes for Marceline, she talks to herself.

And we're embarrassed because we feel we're intruders.

But in the end that's just what wins us over.

Marceline's sequence is better than the others because she is acting.

They were very personal, intimate memories...

Maybe when I was saying the words...

I was re-living the past, feeling it.

But I wasn't being histrionic between shots as Marilou suggests.

So I can't agree about being on the verge of hysteria. It's not true.

I like the way the film goes from the false natural...

Like the meaningless street interviews...

To a close up of Marilou which never comes off, but is beautiful.

What did you think of the screening?

I found it interesting because...

The argument split into two factions.

They either criticised our characters as not being true to life...

For example ,Jacques accuses Angelo of acting a part with Landry...

Or else they found them too true...

As when Maxie criticised Marilou for stripping herself before the camera.

It means we've reached a stage...

...where we question a truth when it's not an everyday truth.

We've gone beyond it.

When sincerity is a bit more than life-size, it's called ham...

Or else exhibitionism.

And that's the basic problem.

If they are thought actors or exhibitionists, our film is a failure.

But I'm certain in my own mind that they're neither of these things.

But one can't be sure.

They don't really know themselves...

Marceline said she acted the Concorde scene...

But she didn't.

Or if she did, it was her most authentic side.

Talking of her father was no game...

This film, unlike normal cinema, re-introduces us to life.

People react as they do in life.

They're not guided, nor is the audience.

We don't say, this man's good, another wicked or nice or clever.

So the audience is bewildered by these people they could actually meet.

It feels implicated but would prefer not to be.

Some were moved. I noticed that some were very moved by Marilou...

Others by Marceline or Jean Pierre or Angelo,

So I believe some of our ideas will get over.

Were you, moved?

I've seen the film so often...

The impact's lessened. Still it does move me...

But in a different way...

At first I thought everybody would find the film moving...

Now I see people I'm fond of, like Marilou and Marceline, quarrelling.

That upsets me. I hoped that audiences would like the people I liked.

We wanted to make a film of love...

But it's turned out an impersonal kind of film, or if not impersonal....

A sort of reaction from reaction, which isn't necessarily sympathetic.

It's a job getting anything across.

We're in for trouble...

The END