Original subtitles

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She'd been holding his hand for maybe 8 hours.

At 11 p.m., she left to get some sleep,

and at 11:10, we called her to say

that her husband had died.

She was only 10 minutes away.

She turned around and came back totally devastated

at having left minutes too early, not sensing the time had come,

and having let her husband die alone.

For her, that was the worst.

And me...

I understood how she felt,

the unfairness.

I couldn't find the words to console her,

to tell her not to feel guilty.

All I could do was hand her tissues.

Bear this in mind:

in his final hours, a patient often chooses his time of death

and who will be in the room at the time.

That man chose to die

after a long day with his wife,

probably telling each other through words and gestures

how much they loved each other.

If he let her go,

it's because he decided to die alone.

That was his decision,

and it takes nothing away from what her presence did for him

until the last 10 minutes of his life.

Now I'll ask

each of you to think about your own emotions

and find one word

to describe this story

and share it with us.

Guilt?

- Powerlessness? - Powerlessness.

- Sorrow. - Courage.

Solitude.

Solitude? Speak louder.

- Solitude. - Very well.

Sadness.

PEACEFUL

s u m m e r

Mr. Boltanski?

Yes.

Follow me.

- Occupation? - Actor.

Actor!

Failed. Put "failed actor."

Seriously?

Teacher.

Teacher?

Hi. I'm Dr. Eddé.

This is our first meeting.

- Already here? - Where you been?

Come out here.

You come! We're waiting.

My mother.

I'm glad you're here.

- May I call you Benjamin? - Sure.

So, Benjamin,

tell me what you think you have.

Say you're telling a friend who's asked about your health.

- Can I record this? - Of course.

Is it recording?

Action! So what do I have?

A fucked-up pancreas.

First, I had back pain. They couldn't figure it out.

For months, they couldn't find what was wrong.

They finally took an x-ray.

- Right? - And a biopsy.

And a biopsy. But actually, it wasn't my back.

And then, a surgeon told me it was inoperable.

There you go.

Are you being treated now?

I'm just taking painkillers.

All they offered was chemo, but I don't want that.

They say you're the best, so here we are.

Will you help me, Dr. Eddé?

He doesn't want to lose his hair.

You don't have the mic yet.

You'll get your chance.

How do you see the future?

I hope things'll improve.

Before discussing your medical condition,

I must say, your mother came to me before the appointment.

It pains her terribly to see you in pain.

And that's perfectly normal.

She's trying her best to protect you.

She thinks that half-truths will hurt you half as much.

We have a tough journey ahead.

There's no room for lies.

So I told your mother I'd tell you we'd spoken.

I'm not betraying her.

For me, truth is non-negotiable.

- Your truth! - No, ma'am.

The truth about Benjamin's condition.

Any questions?

Only one: Can you cure me?

I won't paint a rosy picture.

You have stage 4 pancreatic cancer. It's incurable.

But we have treatment that can help.

You'll never hear me say, "I'll cure your cancer."

I'd be a liar if I did.

So whatever the scenario, one day the cancer will prevail.

It will overpower us all.

I hope that recorded so we can play it back.

To buck us up!

I know what I'm saying is hard to hear.

But I want you to know what your life will probably be like.

"Probably" means you have no certainty?

Certainty about what?

About my final bow.

My last curtain call.

Look, I don't know when I'll die, or anyone else here.

But I'll tell you how long you might have.

If you're ready to hear it.

What for? I could get hit by a bus leaving here.

I don't work like that.

But you want to know.

Why do you say that?

Because I know you.

I don't want to do anything to annoy you.

Do as you like.

But I wouldn't want to know when you'll croak.

If you want to know, ma'am, with his consent,

I don't mind telling you.

But it will put up an emotional wall between you

that will be very uncomfortable.

It would be much healthier if you heard it together.

If you want to know.

That's my advice.

I'll examine you.

Feel that?

Sister Mary Joseph's nodule.

Got any more sexy terms like that?

A classic pancreatic cancer metastasis in the umbilicus.

Your liver is enlarged. That explains the pain here.

- Does it hurt here? - No.

And here?

Somebody make you wear that tie at knifepoint?

I have a patient coming later who loves seals.

Well, I prefer jellyfish.

I like jellyfish.

Benjamin, stay with me.

Sorry.

Like the oncologist you saw before,

I am in favor of chemo.

I'll explain why, and the protocol, of course.

What's the point?

1) To maintain your quality of life.

2) To slow down the cancer.

And 3) If we're lucky, extend your life.

But again, with your type of cancer,

it may not be extended by much.

The main goal is quality of life.

As long as the side effects of chemo are less severe than the cancer symptoms,

it's worth it.

Sounds terrific, but...

no thanks.

Like, you wanna cut off an arm, or cut an arm off?

You have nothing to lose.

You can try one treatment, or two, and then see.

Whatever your decision, I'll respect it.

We're not down to the wire.

You can think it over.

Well then...

Shall we?

You're the best, but with nothing to offer.

Feel free to consult other oncologists.

But choose one you feel you can fully trust.

And if you come back just to say hi, I'll be glad to see you.

Coming?

I'll catch up.

For my funeral, I want everyone in shorts and a jazz band.

And I'd like you to be there.

Where you parked?

Down below.

I'll call you.

How's it going? Good?

The "forever" is strange and powerful.

It's heavy duty.

It asks: What is a kiss?

What is holding a hand? Hugging a body?

For the last time.

It's tragic.

You have to embody it.

But it's normal to feel reserve.

We don't know each other.

Get acquainted!

Get acquainted while saying goodbye?

Exactly.

Get acquainted with the other's body.

There.

Reserve has its place.

You're wasting time not looking at each other.

You'll never see each other again.

You're saying farewell although you're in love.

Life will go on without the other.

Your last moments with her.

The last time you see her smile...

that you smell her scent.

There.

Now there's tenderness.

And eroticism.

Eroticism on stage is beautiful.

Now you have to part.

How do you find what Lomane and Clémence did?

Mega touching.

It was superb.

What made it superb?

They played off each other.

Yes.

And the quality of the silences.

It's the first time.

There was also, "I'm looking at you for the last time,

"and photographing you in my mind."

Clémence,

you have a lot of presence.

But the beauty lies in how you listen,

the way you look at the other,

the authenticity of your gaze,

and its intensity,

and you lead us to your partner.

You share your presence.

But presence... What is presence?

Something innate or something you work on?

What is presence?

It's being in the present.

The present moment.

Being in the here and now. I guess.

I think it's also

knowing how to give of yourself.

Accepting your own vulnerability in a way.

It's not palpable.

I think there's something mystical about it,

ghosts we carry around with us.

Some people have a very vivid spiritual world

and...

who need to be surrounded by lots of people.

People with tons of support.

It's something you can sense.

I feel it's also about revealing yourself,

so you can project yourself.

Not a fabrication.

All actors think they have presence.

Or else you're not an actor.

It's true!

Really, guys, it's true.

I don't have Robert de Niro's presence,

but still.

I've got something.

We all think we have presence. Or why be here?

What would you say presence is?

How do you feel?

My stomach hurts.

Could it be the chamber?

I don't think it does a thing. Neither good nor harm.

Maybe it takes several sessions to feel the effects.

Want some ibuprofen?

Sure.

Here.

That's not what I need!

What, then? I have some...

I have to treat this thing! That's all.

- That's what we're doing. - No it's not!

And why the "we"?

Are you sick?

It's my illness, not yours.

So stop chasing after miracle cures with your man's money.

Nonsense! It's my savings.

I can pay for all the treatment, the hotel, etc.

I'm not coming back here.

Why not? We have no time to lose.

I have no time to lose!

Tell me what you want, then.

I'll do anything you want.

Mom, I'm done for.

You're not done for.

Think I'm afraid of the truth?

Today's our second meeting.

I need to know if we are going to work as a team,

because we must move forward.

I'd like to talk about the chemotherapy I recommend,

a fairly easy chemo that won't make you lose your hair.

Have you made up your mind?

Are you ashamed of having cancer?

Do you feel guilty about it?

Why?

This cancer can strike anyone.

It has no known origin.

It's like a car accident.

You've done nothing to give you this cancer.

Absolutely nothing.

With this cancer, we can't even blame tobacco.

It's a typically unfair cancer.

It's not at all your fault.

Could it somehow be my fault?

I don't know,

a trauma in his childhood or his teens

that I might have caused, and that I don't remember?

They say people who suppress their emotions

trigger a cancer.

The medical world doesn't always know the cause,

but let's not pile guilt on top of illness.

About chemotherapy...

Can't we wait 2 months to see how it grows?

I know how it's growing. I have 2 CT scans.

I'm telling you: it's growing. And it'll cause more pain.

He's afraid of not being in shape

to prepare his students for the conservatory.

If it's to inject poison in me,

live like a vegetable for 2 years

and end up croaking anyway...

Benjamin, you don't have 2 years.

I can tell you how long if you're ready to hear it.

Really?

Yes, you can tell me.

You want to hear about survival?

Yeah.

Alright.

Statistically speaking, survival with stage 4 pancreatic cancer

is anywhere from 6 to 12 months.

But you're not a statistic,

you're an individual.

Individuals can do better than statistics

or worse.

So you may live for more than 12 months,

or less than 6.

Don't look so sad.

I'm not sad,

but I know the news is hard to take.

I hadn't noticed!

I found it on the internet.

Benjamin,

your life expectancy is the end of the line but...

there's a whole journey to there.

Understand?

Are we going to journey together?

Yes.

I can help you get across the mountain we're facing.

I know the way.

It's rocky, but we'll walk together, hand in hand.

So I'm stuck with you until the end of my life?

Unfortunately for you, yes.

Hand me my satchel.

- See you Thursday. - Right.

Bye. See you Thursday.

Thanks. Bye.

When do we start the scenes for the conservatory?

In January.

Why not earlier?

If we start sooner, you'll focus only on that,

while you still have a lot to learn.

So easy on the audition pressure.

I'm having trouble choosing the modern scene. Any advice?

We'll do that early December.

- Are you leaving for fall break? - No.

So could we meet up?

I'll make progress on my scenes, submit them early

and know them by December.

- That would be favorable treatment. - Well, yeah!

Well, no.

So no favorable treatment?

Have a good weekend.

f a l l

It's what I call the hero syndrome.

In your opinion,

who is the hero?

- The doctor? - The doctor?

Any other ideas?

Yes, us!

You? You mean the nurses.

Good idea.

- The spouse? - The spouse, yes.

All good ideas.

But actually, it's the patient

who is the hero.

He never asked to be a hero.

But our attitude is telling him that he's the hero.

"Go on, fight!

"We'll win the battle."

And that puts him in an intolerable impasse,

because he figures that

if he gives up,

if he dies, he's betraying his fans.

He needs the exact opposite to be set free.

He needs the permission to die.

That permission is given by two people:

his doctor and his family.

He needs to hear it.

We can explain to the family

that the greatest gift they can give him

is the permission to die.

Tell him, "You're already our hero, there's no need for proof.

"You can go."

That way he'll have the peace he so badly needs.

You don't even have to say those words.

If you think them truly and sincerely,

believe me, he'll hear them.

This is cancer trench warfare.

You're at the front with the families.

Sometimes it's very tense.

But there's this passion with the family, and with the patient.

Without that passionate relationship, it doesn't work.

Like a failed marriage. You're bored.

Together. Not together.

It's the same!

Then my marriage sure is failed.

Because with or without my husband,

it's the same thing.

The same thing!

I don't know why I'm laughing.

I'm not happy about dying.

Not now, anyway.

Maybe later.

No, I can't. I've got lots of stuff planned.

I've never had so many plans in life

as I do right now.

It's so dumb. I just signed up for a gym!

I'm committed for a year.

Yeah.

Can I call you back?

No, I'm fine.

I'm fine.

It's just a bit weird.

I mean,

it's gotta sink in.

Don't worry, I'll call you back.

Relax. I know it's not your fault.

It's dumb to say that but...

I'll call you back, ok?

Thank you, Chloé.

Did you believe you'd really got the news?

A natural reflex came out, which is...

to laugh when something bad happens.

Did you hold back emotion on stage?

You don't cry right away.

Now I feel like crying.

What you held back earlier

is maybe coming out now.

That's good, Chloé.

That's good.

You believe in what you're doing, since it affects you.

But what's the point?

What's the point of the exercise?

We're alone.

What is this place? What's going on?

Do you think it's funny?

I've been waiting hours for news!

Ma'am,

I just got the results and was coming to see you.

The CT scan confirmed my hunch.

He has a pulmonary embolism. That explains the sharp chest pain.

So it's not cancer-related?

Embolism is a classic complication of this cancer.

But some good news:

The tumor has shrunk slightly in 2 months of chemo.

He's on blood thinners, and if all goes well,

he can go home in 3 or 4 days.

He's at wit's end. He was so hostile toward me earlier.

He's angry, because he decided to face facts

and accept this thing, and he feels punished.

He can't see the advantages

and the benefits of the chemo.

He has feelings of...

yes, rage and injustice.

That's right.

Does he have a partner?

Not right now.

Friends who'd come to visit?

He doesn't want to tell his friends.

He'll be glad to know he can go home.

William!

Raymond, what's on your mind?

Nothing.

You should've gone out with Simone. She was all teary-eyed.

I don't care about Simone.

You haven't eaten a thing...

Your mother said you liked Ray Charles.

No.

Then something else?

Anything you'd like to hear?

Nothing.

I'll come back later.

- Don't bother. - Darling...

Don't worry. I'm the only one here you can say no to.

Have a good evening.

It's sure to be a hoot.

Benjamin.

Are you too warm?

Do you want...

I can't bear to see him suffer like that.

There he is, staring at the ceiling with those sad eyes.

I don't know what to tell him.

Surround him,

love him,

spoil him.

- We have to keep fighting. - Against what?

A concrete wall that you can't break down?

We have to pick our battles.

I'm fighting for his comfort.

We're not doing the utmost.

What is "the utmost" for you?

"The utmost" is everything,

it's doing everything.

Not losing hope.

Look,

my principle is the utmost.

That doesn't mean hitting the patient with heavy artillery.

It's doing all we can that doesn't harm the patient.

That's the utmost.

In the battle we are waging, unfortunately,

the battlefield is Benjamin.

We must protect him.

And we mustn't let him think

that the utmost hasn't been done for him,

and that he could live if it had been.

Right.

- And you, ma'am... - Call me Crystal.

And you, Crystal, must get some rest and gather your strength.

Benjamin, imagine your whole life spread out on a desk.

We'll call it the desk of life.

We all have a lot of crap on our desks.

It's time to make a clean sweep.

Clear out all that's useless. Keep only what matters most.

Things that are 100% positive.

Settle unfinished business,

and try to mend broken relationships.

Get ready for the big departure,

and prepare those who love you for your absence.

Once you've done all that...

How do I not shoot myself?

Benjamin, I know that...

w i n t e r

Last week,

I had a patient in terminal stage.

Lots of support. Her daughters were often there.

And we all hit it off.

Some days it was cheerful,

but there were also some tough moments.

Especially when they felt the end was near.

And 2 or 3 days before she died...

No, 2 days.

There was so much emotion,

so much sorrow in the room, so much love, too.

I couldn't hold back.

I burst into tears.

Everyone was crying, and so was I. But I shouldn't have been.

Why do you think that?

Because my role is to be strong, reassuring.

I've shed tears with my patients.

- Really? - Of course.

- Eugenie... - What?

A patient who sees you weep

feels your empathy.

Even more important,

you allow him to cry and express his emotions.

If you cry, don't be ashamed.

Your patient will feel you're with him.

But be careful not to be so overwhelmed by your emotions

that the patient feels the need to console you.

What's up?

How's tricks, Mouss?

A strong one.

On you I wished to fix my loyalty,

Welcomed you as queen...

Come on!

Sought to prove

My vows would bind me as firm as love.

But love has won!

But love has won.

Damn!

And with a fateful blow,

Andromache snatched from me a heart she loathes.

Both entangled,

We rush to the altar,

And swear, despite ourselves, to love forever.

So Madame, condemn me for a traitor...

It's lifeless! We're bored stiff!

Shake it loose, dammit!

Start over.

Both of you. Start over.

You're pissing me off.

What the...

Demonstrative acting is a bore!

- I know! - No more acting.

That's not the goal.

Talk to her. You're leaving her.

Look at how she's feeling.

Take in what she's giving you.

What I'm interested in is you.

You! I don't care about Pyrrhus.

The scene comes from here.

Start over.

Breathe.

Both entangled,

We rush to the altar,

And swear, despite ourselves, to love forever.

Let loose.

Keep climbing.

Inch closer to yourself, breathe.

...yet that wishes for no other.

Far then from restraining your just anger,

It will give solace to us both hereafter.

Call me the names reserved for perjurers,

I fear your silence,

Not your sharp arrows,

And my heart, a thousand times the witness...

Are you afraid?

Baptiste,

are you afraid?

You're pretending you're not, but you are.

You're taking no risks.

Stop being afraid.

You'll get into the conservatory.

You're sticking to your comfort zone.

Stifling your poetry, your creativity.

You're more interesting when you're bad,

I swear.

Your poetry is penetrating.

You can be a blade.

Good morning, Benjamin.

Good morning.

How are you?

Fine, thank you.

I got blown away last night. Thought of you.

I went to a Joshua Redman concert.

Stupendous.

I filmed this.

I wish you had been there.

Hence the tie.

How are you feeling today?

Can't you tell? I'm full of beans.

Are you in any pain?

No, I'm ok.

We'll remove the tube tomorrow.

Your intestines are much better.

Thanks.

Are there meds for fear?

Not for fear, no.

Why? Are you scared?

Yeah, I am.

I'm scared of falling asleep, of not waking up.

I'm scared of everything now.

Even of a door opening.

I'm scared

of having been scared all my life.

Fear's all I have left.

Benjamin, fear is normal.

I'll be afraid someday, too.

We're afraid because we don't understand.

But fear also comes from conflicting thoughts

going through your head.

One says,

"I know I'm going to die."

The other says,

"I don't accept death."

That's exactly it.

That's also why it's important, remember,

to clear the desk of your life.

It'll help reduce that fear.

I've thought about it.

But there's nothing on my desk.

I let life take me for a ride.

No unfinished business?

Nothing you're not at peace with?

Now I'm scared shitless.

We made a pact of truth.

Yeah.

I saw yesterday's CT scan and...

this time it's not good.

The chemo isn't working anymore.

We have to stop it.

Cancer is winning the battle.

You're going to have ups and downs.

And...

overall, things won't get better.

That's why I'd like you to revisit the desk of your life.

While you still have a clear head.

See if anything important still needs settling.

I don't have debts.

Not even a car lease.

So there's nothing you haven't made peace with?

Something eating at you?

Or keeping you awake at night?

No.

Ok. I'll see you later.

Then let me suggest five things

that we can say to our loved ones before leaving.

Forgive me.

I forgive you.

I love you.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

In that order?

You can change the order.

The hardest things in the world to say.

- See you later. - Yeah.

The orange and blue cap, right?

Yeah. Give it to me. Thanks.

I need my bank statements and property deed.

I'll tell you where they are.

What for?

Stuff to settle, you can imagine.

It can wait, can't it? Don't trouble yourself with that.

Can you do what I ask without questioning everything?

Or deciding according to what you think is good for me?

Why are you angry?

Even here, even now,

you think you can decide for me.

I'm 39. It's time it stopped.

Let's not argue about paperwork.

Of course I'll bring everything.

It's just to save you the trouble.

I could take care of it for you. That's all.

I'm giving him what's his!

Finished?

I'll take your tray.

Thank you.

See you later.

Thank you.

Did she call you?

Why would she?

What I let you do when I was 19,

I wouldn't today.

Get that into your head.

You didn't want one.

You didn't want to hear about it.

"Get me out of this mess." Remember?

"Get me out of this mess."

Because you brainwashed me.

I was too this, not enough that.

It would ruin my life.

With your expression,

"stick you with a kid."

You think it didn't stick with me?

You think the kid isn't still with me?

You think I forgot, or what?

You were a baby.

Can you believe there's no word?

There's no word equivalent to "orphan."

For when you lose a child.

No one's ever conceived that it exists.

Oh, man...

I know. I shouldn't have.

Thought I'd never find you.

This place is a maze with a challenge before each door.

How you doing?

Hello. Lola.

Eugénie. Nice to meet you.

I'll kiss you hello. Not contagious?

Oh, who cares!

Everyone needs affection.

Your sub's the pits.

On stage, he doesn't push me like you do.

I'm not improving.

The second audition's on Tuesday.

I need your help. I need your advice. I need your grit.

I can't blow it. My life's on the line.

- Go on, then. - Go on?

What? Do my scene?

Or leave?

Do your scene.

Wanna watch?

Stay if you like. I don't mind.

Awesome! I get to act my scene with you.

That is so dope! Acting with your teacher!

But yet you draw not iron,

For my heart is true as steel,

Leave your power to draw, I'll have no power to follow.

Do I entice you?

Do I speak you fair?

Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth tell you,

I do not, nor I cannot love you?

I love you the more.

I am your spaniel, Demetrius.

The more you beat me, I will fawn on you.

Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me,

Strike me, neglect me, lose me,

Only give me leave,

Unworthy as I am, to follow you.

What worser place can I beg in your love,

Than to be used as you use your dog?

And yet a place of high respect with me.

Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;

For I am sick when I do look on thee.

Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit,

For I am sick when I do look on thee.

And I am sick when I look not on you.

Your virtue is my privilege.

For that it is not night when I do see your face.

Why are you crying?

What is she moved by? By him or what he says?

I'll leave you now.

I'll let you rest.

You've always said it, I have to dig deep.

It won't come from anywhere else.

Dig my core, right? That's what you say.

Thank you.

I've accomplished nothing.

What did you want to accomplish?

What was... I mean, what are your dreams?

I've never had any.

I was vital to no one.

I made no one happy.

That's not what I saw earlier.

She has a crush on her teacher.

It's a cliché.

Your mother is full of love and pride.

I've always done what was expected of me.

I've been obedient.

I'll go without leaving a trace.

Not true.

I'll come back later.

I've been grabbing at the wind.

I'm going to leave like I came.

As nothing.

I'll leave the world unchanged.

There won't be a ripple.

I'm dying without having lived intensely.

Had I known...

I feel I should tell him.

And I really wanted to.

But it's not my place.

I currently have a patient

who tells me what makes her suffer isn't the illness.

It's that her sons aren't speaking.

She expects me to reconcile them.

More than to cure her.

She wants them both there

in her room before she goes.

She's not asking for the moon.

But what can I do, really? Nothing.

And that makes me feel very

frustrated.

Amandine, what would your word be?

Dilemma.

Choice.

- Freedom. - Sadness.

Love.

- Fate. - Cruel.

Tragedy.

Ambivalence.

Helplessness.

Intimate.

Waste.

Heartbreak.

Secret.

s p r i n g

As I said,

currently, considering your marital status,

your mother is your sole heir, in the absence of a will.

I know.

That's not the problem.

I just want everything to be in order.

Clear the desk of my life.

As I think you know, he won't be back right away.

He knows many of you are admitted to round 3 auditions

for the conservatory.

He wants you to know he's thinking of you.

And believes in you.

And that goes for all of you,

not just those of you auditioning for the conservatory.

In that case, an acknowledgment of paternity

and a will are necessary.

I can prepare the deeds here and now.

And...

after you go,

I'll take care of the paperwork.

And I'll contact your son.

Not to upset you, but to do things properly,

I'd like to understand.

Why won't you see him?

Meet him?

Because I didn't take care of him.

It would be lousy to reach out now.

I'd be abandoning him a second time.

Would you like your son to inherit everything?

Or would you like to split it with someone else?

Yes.

Yes? He inherits everything?

Yes.

Would you like the acknowledgment of paternity

to remain unknown to his mother?

No.

"I've taught you a lot, but I've learned from you.

"Keep learning.

"Don't be sure of yourselves.

"Try things, dare, take risks,

"make mistakes.

"Never be afraid of being ridiculous.

"Don't be cautious and obedient.

"Be generous and genuine,

"as close as you can to your inner self.

"Trust in your youth and your naïveté.

"Have dreams and chase them.

"Make choices.

"Don't be afraid.

"Live everything to the fullest, intensely.

"Fulfill yourselves.

"Fulfill yourselves."

Can we go see him?

Right now, he's very tired. He doesn't want visitors.

Maybe later, yes.

I'll ask him.

I'll let you know. You'll tell them.

Sure.

I now know what presence is.

Gotta tell them.

I gotta tell my students.

What shall I play today?

Did you feed the horses?

Let me meet your wife.

Come sit down.

Careful, you'll fall.

Rock out, buddy!

Rock out!

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Just a little.

Try just a little.

He doesn't want any.

He's burning up.

My baby...

My darling.

You're my little fuzzy wuzzy.

You're so feverish.

I had a long talk with Benjamin.

He expressed the desire to write his living will.

I believe it's also to spare you a difficult decision

when he's no longer alert.

No resuscitation. No intubation.

This is to avoid aggressive treatments when the end is near.

To let him go peacefully.

It's our turn to accept what he's already accepted.

From here on out, anything can happen, any time.

He could have an embolism or start bleeding,

and it could be instantly fatal.

We can't predict.

But use these moments when he feels well

to say important things and listen to him.

What's completely crazy

is to lose hope.

- Like I'm abandoning him. - What hope do you have for him?

Not for you. For him?

You have to give him permission to go.

You don't have to say it.

If you truly think it, believe me, he'll hear you.

It would be your greatest gift of love.

Are you there?

Are you there? Tell me.

Tell me.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

I was afraid I'd lose you.

Forgive me.

I forgive you.

Thank you.

My little boy.

Goodbye.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. I love you.

My father had a little field of peas

My father had a little field of peas

Need a nap, Eugénie?

Yes.

I'm off to pack my bag.

Let's bid Benjamin farewell.

We may not see him again.

I have something to finish first.

I'll go by myself.

Have a good weekend.

Judo for one, birthday for the other,

and my in-laws visiting.

Send an ambulance Monday morning!

How are you doing?

I'm not on call this weekend.

I came to say goodbye.

I'm off to the country for my niece's wedding.

I wanted to make sure you still didn't want to go home.

It's possible to have hospice care at home,

even for a few days, if you want.

This is my home.

They'll take good care of you.

Make sure you're comfortable and pain free.

I'm proud of you, Benjamin.

Of the journey you've accomplished.

Eugénie...

Eugénie?

She'll come by before she leaves.

I'm going to...

miss you.

Me too.

I'll miss you.

I want to tell you that

it's been a privilege to be your doctor.

Well, goodbye.

Have a good weekend.

Benjamin?

It's Léandre's blood...

It's your son's blood flowing in your veins.

Goodbye.

Do you know this song?

I don't know.

Benjamin and the girl he loved adored that song.

"To know how I love her, listen to that song."

He said that all the time.

That's it.

- Can you play it? - I'll work it out.

He'll be glad.

I'll be back.

It's over.

WE MISS YOU!

- Dr. Eddé? - Yes.

It's Gladys.

Hello, Gladys.

I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. Boltanski died this morning at 11.

Was his mother there?

No, she'd stepped out.

But his son was there.

Thanks. See you Monday.

See you Monday, doctor.

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