All language subtitles for Tout va Bien (Godard-Gorin, 1972)-eng

MAY 1968

MAY 1972

EVERYTHING'S

ALL

RIGHT

Scene 1, take 1.

Scene 18, take 5.

Scene 3B, take 2.

I want to make a film.

You need money for that.

DIRECTOR

SCRIPT

CINEMATOGRAPHER

SOUND

PRODUCTION

EDITING

FILM

ELECTRICIANS

GRIPS

SET DESIGN

FILM LAB

SPECIAL EFFECTS

MUSIC

SECONDARY ROLES

EXTRAS

BENEFITS

MISCELLANEOUS

If you use stars,
people will give you money.

Then we'll use stars.

INTERNATIONAL STAR

What'll you tell Yves Montand
and Jane Fonda?

Actors want to see a story
before they agree to anything.

We need a story?

Yeah, usually a love story.

- Do you love me?
- Yes.

I love your eyes,
I love your mouth,

I love your knees,
I love your ass,

I love your hair,
I love your hands.

- So you love me completely?
- Yes. What about you?

I love your forehead,
I love your legs,

I love your balls,
I love your shoulders,

I love your mouth.

- So you love me completely?
- Yes, completely.

There'd be Him and Her,

and they'd have
relationship problems.

- Wait a minute!
- You wait a minute!

Keep going and you'll have
a nice story about zombies.

Where do your characters live?
When?

What do they eat?
Give us some details!

There'd be a country.

In the country,
there'd be countryside.

In the countryside, there'd be cities.

In the cities, there'd be houses.

In one of the houses
there'd be Him,

and in one of the houses,
there'd be Her.

There'd be Her and Him.

That's still too vague.

Wait.

There'd be lots of people.

There'd be workers.

There'd be farmers.

Petit bourgeois
and grand bourgeois.

And She and He
must be placed among them.

And She and He
must be placed among them.

Is that a better beginning?

I don't know yet. Keep going.

There'd be farmers who farm.

There'd be workers who work.

And bourgeois who bourgeois.

Good evening.
Here are our top stories at 8... 00.

Mr. Pompidou will hold
a press conference this month.

And bourgeois who bourgeois.

Mr. Servan-Schreiber revealed
seven points in common

between his party
and Mr. Mitterand's Socialists.

Does this mean
a falling out with Mr. Lecanuet?

We need to add something.

For example...

under a calm surface,
everything's changing.

Yes.

Everything's changing
within every class.

Under a calm surface,
everything's changing.

Everything's changing
within every class.

And She and He,
swept up in it, also change.

Remington had the same idea as you.

Now, Remington razors have
super-sharp blades to shave even closer.

Turn the sound off.

Oh, it's you.

Yes, I need you.
No, it's for a commercial.

Yes, a Remington ad.

You're naked, lying on a fur.

There's a guy behind you,
an aftershave model.

He takes a couple
different electric razors

and he shaves with them.

Then he rubs his cheek on your behind,

and you say, "That scratches."

After a few other brands,
he shaves with a Remington.

Then he rubs his cheek
on your behind again,

and you say,
"It doesn't scratch anymore."

Day after tomorrow at 9:00,
soundstage B.

Great. Bye.

Play it back.
- Robert, play it back.

Your son's. Almost.

Give your husband
a Remington razor.

She and He,
swept up in it, also change.

After building themselves
a rat trap,

they're caught in it themselves,
and they're screwed.

How smart of the establishment press
to maintain, thanks to advertising,

such a low price that it doesn't even
cover the costs of their raw materials.

LOCK UP THE BOSSES

INDEFINITE STRIKE

Be serious!
Why destroy all the files?

Just relax!

You haven't had a supervisor
since 9:00 this morning.

Besides, you never know.

They might be tearing up
the list of layoffs.

So?

So what if your name's on it?

While they're redoing the list,
you keep your job

for at least three more days,
and at your age, that's important.

Leave me alone!

Stupid fool!

It's this way. You'll see.

I'm here to see the manager.

- We know!
- He may be too busy to see you!

- What's going on?
- That's what we'd like to know.

You look like you're having fun.

Listen to me!

What the hell's going on?

I have an appointment
with the manager.

They just showed up
and insisted on coming up.

We need to see the manager.

They said they had an appointment
to see the manager.

Maybe we could talk
to his secretary. She could -

His secretary? That's me.

I'm a temp, of course.

Since they're already here,
why disappoint them?

Come on. After you.

You still at it?

- Listening at the door!
- That's not nice.

Spying on his workers!

You have visitors, babe.

Excuse us.
We'll be leaving now.

What the hell are you doing here?

I'm Susan Dewitt
of the American Broadcasting System.

Your secretary scheduled
an interview with you.

I have some questions for our inquiry
into today's employers in France.

I'm sorry. With all this excitement,
it slipped my mind.

Why are you laughing?
- That's my husband.

Now I see why they said
you might be too busy to see us.

- Jacques!
- Very funny.

This isn't a good time.
It's unbelievable.

The union planned a run-of-the-mill
work stoppage for this morning.

Then things got out of hand.

A gang of lunatics started ransacking
the personnel manager's office.

When I showed up,
they threw me in here.

I've been locked up for four hours.

They even cut my outside line.

Real hooligans.

Real hooligans!

The manager - fine.
But why do we need the other two?

You may be right, but there's no time
for details in the class struggle.

LOCK UP THE BOSSES
INDEFINITE STRIKE

If you keep on like this, Salumi

The working class will kick your ass

My name is Marco Guidotti.

I was born in Italy,
but I have a French passport.

I've managed this factory
since September 15, 1967.

This is the first time
anything like this has happened.

Until now, we hadn't been
contaminated by May '68.

My reaction?

For the moment, more amusement
than anything else.

It has more to do with psychiatry.

There are maladjusted people
in factories too, like anywhere,

and they tried to force
a coup for no reason,

without the support
of the people or the union.

There's no lesson to learn from this.

Seriously, what's "class struggle"
got to do with all this?

You're still using
a 19th-century vocabulary.

The glaring injustices
of Marx' and Engels' day are over.

What do you mean, "power"?

The past 25 years
have dashed the hopes

of many Marxist-influenced philosophers
who criticized consumer society.

The last 15 years have proved

that Marxism and collectivism
certainly don't protect you

from exploitation and alienation.

Look at the USSR
and the people's democracies.

I don't think the word "revolution"
has meaning anymore.

The industrialized countries have increased
their overall and per capita income

more in the last 25 years
than they did from 1900 to 1945.

Workers and employees in general

have played an important role,
without acting as a class

or being exclusionary.

This is a time of evolution/revolution.

Classes are now cooperating
with each other

to build an urban, industrial society

motivated by a quest for progress

that is tangible and ongoing.

Most people are free from daily needs

and the resignation
engendered by half-baked beliefs.

I'm not denying
that our society has drawbacks.

The hard work and aggressiveness
that accompany the drive for efficiency

risk dehumanizing everyone
and destroying the weaker among us.

The desire for possessions
can lead to frustration,

and too much pleasure
can make you nauseous.

You have to find a balance,

and most people find it -
or will find it.

They have a natural tendency
to find balance and adapt

because of their need to streamline

all aspects of their lives
and surroundings.

Why do you want me to talk
about today's events?

It's a flash in the pan.

The unions will be furious
that I'm here.

Anyway, they know I won't talk
under duress.

Everything will return to normal.

I hope I can get home on time.

We're having a dinner party.

Bosses will always be jerks.

What did you expect?

Are you crazy?

Yes, I'm the CGT shop steward.

Most unions are part of the CGT.

Absolutely not.

We planned a short work stoppage,
but not this.

What do I think of the situation?

It's very serious.

At a moment when the unions
have come together

to defend the vital interests
of all employees,

and duly empowered
representatives of the workers

are entering into sensitive
negotiations with management,

this is a bad blow on the part
of an irresponsible minority.

The CGT condemns their actions.

Such troublemakers only serve
the interests of management,

who are happy to refuse
to negotiate under duress

and to justify their refusal to budge.

Listen, I've spent eight hours a day
in this factory for seven years.

This morning's events
were caused by a few hotheads

who had already been brought
to our attention.

Most workers in this factory
are responsible people.

Yes, they raised the issue of bonuses.

Do you think such a large problem
can be solved

by attacking a foreman,
like they did this morning?

That worker was part of our union,

so we can see
how these troublemakers operate.

The problem of the food industry
is very complex.

The food industry is being
thoroughly reorganized

and is becoming concentrated.

In 1968 and 1969, there were
173 mergers and acquisitions.

Five giants control
25% of the market,

while 567 companies have only 6%.

Management's objective is simple:

To set up one or two giants in each sector
with a turnover of one billion francs.

They're looking beyond
the French market.

They want to supply
the 190 million consumers

in the six countries
of the Common Market.

These mergers are sponsored
by the banks, of course.

The Suez Company
is in cheese and yogurt,

and Rothschild is investing
in mustard and gingerbread.

Any industry where profits
can be made is fair game.

And there are profits to be made,
believe me.

In 10 years, productivity
has risen by 55%,

production by 60%,

and corporate profits
by 25-30% every year.

Sixty-six of the top 500 French
companies are food-related.

But our salaries haven't kept up
with increasing production,

and even less with corporate profits.

Food industry salaries,
despite the gains of May '68,

are still among the lowest in France,

with a national average
of 4.80 francs an hour.

I have the figures here.

Here at Salumi, a laborer
makes 3.45 + 0.62 francs an hour.

An unskilled worker
makes 3.94 + 0.74.

A skilled worker
makes 4.45 + 0.90.

A highly skilled worker
makes from 5.37 to 6.04.

The food industry stuffs
the bosses and CEOs

while it underfeeds the workers.

We at the CGT maintain

that industrial concentration
calls for a united strategy

that allows agreements
between multiple sectors,

combined with individual riders
for each sector or factory.

We also maintain that irresponsible
actions like those of this morning

threaten our overall strategy,

which is the only one capable
of influencing management.

Of course the problem is larger
than that, even political.

There's no true solution
to workers' hopes and dreams

under the current system,

where a few capitalists impose
their law of monopolistic profits.

To make possible
a social policy for the people,

we have to set up
a true democracy in this country.

For this, we need
a government of the people

that combines the forces of blue-collar
and white-collar workers,

both rural and urban,
believers and nonbelievers,

all those who labor under the stifling
control of monopolistic capitalism.

Hey, here comes Stacquet.

Take it easy!

- Do you mind?
- What do you want?

I'm still the shop steward.
Stay out of this.

Understand?

Look out.
It's the muscle from the CGT.

- That's why we're here, sir.
- "Sir"!

The strike committee met
after you arrived.

The brothers on the committee
don't want you here.

I've kept quiet till now,
but don't treat us like idiots.

We don't accept
the committee's point of view.

It bugs you that the guys
gave grief to two foremen

who wanted to get rid
of their bonuses.

It bothers you that
we locked up the manager.

I'd like to get information
about the factory -

You've got a big mouth,
like all leftists.

You won't help
with day-to-day union activities.

We do all the work.

When we organize a protest,
all you do is criticize.

We'll have to clean up the mess
you've made today!

You may have had fun
destroying some files,

but you've also derailed negotiations,

and it won't be easy
to get them back on track.

Maybe these others should
have a chance to speak.

Why should they?

You're the only one we hear from.

You're making a mistake.

You still don't have a majority here.

So we should just let ourselves
get fucked over?

We should just let ourselves
get fucked over?

- How many people work here?
- Let's go see the committee.

- Not so fast.
- We'd be happy to tell you our reasons.

Hey, the manager!

Watch out! He's getting away.

Take it easy!
I'm not the manager!

That'll teach you to be pals
with the manager and shop steward.

You want information? Go ahead!

That's getting us nowhere.

- Asshole!
- Enough with the insults.

Let's get out of here.
You can't talk to guys like this!

Keep away from these troublemakers
if you don't want what's coming to them!

Bye, girls!
Have fun gossiping.

We had no choice
this morning or just now.

We were right to get angry.

Bonuses? We're thinking
they're less complicated than they are.

Or maybe more. I don't know.

Lots of guys think their bonuses
are the assembly line and the foremen.

You have to have seen
how a factory breaks out in an uproar.

You're slogging away,
and then something breaks down.

The guy starts yelling,
and so does everyone around him.

Some don't even know
what they're yelling about.

If people are yelling
on the second floor,

people downstairs hear them
and start yelling too.

Managers come running
because they're losing money.

The working man always gets blamed.

Sometimes the worker's bonus
gets docked 10%.

The weekend guy usually loses
80% of his bonus.

Let me explain
this morning's fight.

You could suddenly put a face
on your docked pay.

You talk to us about overall strategy.

Maybe we'll agree,

but some of us see it as
a deserved kick in the ass.

I'm only speaking for myself,

but the CGT's always fighting ghosts.

You figure it out yourself,

and you run into a guy you see every day
and who you think is your enemy.

Then you're an irresponsible
troublemaker.

It's more complicated than that.

The union guys say -

They act like there's nothing
outside the factory.

It's hard to explain.
That's not it.

It's as if you only existed
for eight hours a day.

The union thinks for us workers.

In the outside world, as a citizen,

the party thinks for you
and you follow.

All you can do
is light a candle for the left.

The union only talks
about one problem,

or only has one way
to talk about it - with figures.

It's almost as confusing
as Giscard on TV.

When the guys see
where the numbers lead -

to work stoppages
and May Day parades -

and when they get fed up
and do something on their own,

they get yelled at,

and they see it's the numbers
that stand in the way the most.

You don't have to be
a leftist to think like that.

The union guys used
to strike fear into people

just by pointing at them
and shouting "Mao!"

Now everyone laughs at them.

I don't know what a Mao is,

but if it's saying what I just said,
then there are lots of Maos here.

The tall guy and the girl?
What do you expect us to do?

We'll keep them here.
We're not gonna eat them.

We'll wait.

We locked up the manager.
Our anger was justified.

He's locked up,
and it seems we're on the defensive.

It's not going to be easy
with those other two.

We'll see what management
and the union do now.

It's good we didn't chicken out.

Besides, we'll have some fun.

At least a little.

- Would you stop it?
- Stop what?

Pacing! It's pointless
and it bugs me.

You're telling me!
Can't you see what's happening?

You're locked up, too.

- For me it's not a problem.
- Really?

No, it's not!
I think they're justified.

A hostage who approves
of the hostage-takers.

Soon you'll be agreeing
with their methods.

Methods? Let's talk
about motives instead.

When you were spouting
that garbage to my wife -

Yes, garbage!

Don't you know why you're here?
You can't be that stupid!

Is everything all right?

You're right,
but there's no point getting upset.

You'll never convince this guy.

I didn't know
your husband was a leftist.

He doesn't look like one.

Very funny. Now answer me.

If you don't change your tone,
we can't have a serious discussion.

I refuse.

That's what you said
before they brought you here.

Don't forget: You're here too!

I'll ask you the same question:

Is everything all right with you?

That's a bit much!
Is everything all right?

The situation is fine.

Say that in a few hours.

Time really is dragging.

Yes, I really have to stay.

All the other girls are staying, too.

Can't you take care
of the kids for once?

When you occupied
your factory during your strike,

I didn't make a fuss.

I think it's the same thing.

What a bastard!

You women get back in the kitchen!

No, nothing. Just a guy.

A guy from the factory.

Of course the guys are staying.

You're too much.
That's not why I'm staying.

Anyway, if you saw him -
he's an old guy.

At least 60!

Sixty years old, old man!

So it's okay?

I might even be home tonight.

Who knows what'll happen?

I made supper.

Just heat up what's on the stove.

Be careful with the kids' dinner.

I have to go.

Are you mad?

I'll keep you posted.

Good-bye.

That was hard.

I'm gonna take a piss.

Who?

Who?

It's the manager.

Idiot!

What do you want?

Tell me what you want!
- What does that asshole want?

You want to go piss?

He says he wants to go piss!

No need to fly
the white flag for that!

Go ahead! We can't stop you.

Lucien! Go with him.

We don't trust you.
You tried to run away once already.

It's occupied!

Do you mind?

Georges, it's the manager!

Leave me alone!

It's really the manager.

So what do you want me to do?

Would you hurry up?

Who does he think he is?

When I work a four-hour shift,

I'm allowed two
five-minute breaks to piss,

with the foreman's permission.

Since the can is five minutes
from the shop,

I get docked every time.

And the cans are disgusting!

If he's in such a hurry,
let him use one of those!

Shit!

Have some manners!

He's right, you know.

You have three minutes to go
and come back. I'm timing you.

Hey, cheating already!
False start!

On your mark.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, zero!

And he's off!

Where's the bathroom?

That way.

- It's locked.
- Try that way.

I can't find it.

Just tell me
where the bathroom is.

Shit! Figure it out yourself!

What about fair play?

Who are these people?

Sorry. You're too late!

I can't stand it!

Same thing's happened to me.

I'd used up my two breaks.
I was sick.

I asked the foreman if I could go.

He told me to shit in my pants.

You see? Those are the rules.
We didn't make them.

Now back to work!

Head down
and you'll look like a runner.

Occupied!

- Out of my way!
- The people will get you!

Bastard!
The people will have your hide.

Excuse me, but I have to piss!

How far will they go?

How far will they go?

The class struggle is not
a dinner party, cha-cha-cha!

This is the 5... 00 evening news.

Did you see that?
Don't pretend you didn't.

Sadistic hooligans!

They can't just humiliate
a man like that.

I'd feel the same way
if they did it to you.

But it won't happen like that.

I'm ready to talk, make concessions.
I have an open mind.

But I won't let
mental patients control me.

Send the ringleaders to jail!

It's always the same:

Give 'em an inch
and they take a mile.

I've always been a liberal,

but sometimes what's needed
is a good kick in the ass.

A good kick in the ass.

Georgette was talking
to the reporter.

Luce, Simone, Natalie
and I were listening.

Georgette was talking
in a soft voice

about the factory,
the assembly line,

the inspectors who grope you
hoping they'll get lucky.

They're after you like dogs
if you don't go along.

Even the working guys
always whistle

and say disgusting things
as you walk past.

She talked about her four kids
and her boyfriend,

housework after her shift

and housework before her shift.

About cooking dinner,
and how the day care is miles away.

The fear of having another kid.

The doctor who made her
so afraid of the pill

that it took her two years
to start using it.

Meanwhile, she had
another mouth to feed.

I got irritated listening to her.

It was all true,
but the way she told it was wrong.

The poverty that
expensively dressed reporter

was scribbling about
wasn't Georgette's.

I got fed up and felt like singing.

A leftist song.

You're gonna get it, Mr. Boss Man.

You want to deal with us?
You'll find out you can't.

We can't be bought
with a 10-franc raise this time.

Give us 100 and we'll ask for 1,000.

Give us 100,000
and we'll ask for more.

You tricked us
with your representatives.

Your projects fail
because we're against you.

We don't want categories and titles.

No more divisions!
On the assembly line, we're one.

Funny. It's like TV.

A reporter asks dumb questions,

the guy talks and no one
around him interrupts.

If Georgette heard herself,
she'd be disappointed.

She'd be bored herself,
and in her soft voice she'd say,

"It sounds so lame.
Doesn't make you want to fight. "

The reporter would stop in surprise.

I'm exaggerating.
Georgette doesn't talk that much.

She's been locked up
all day with that bastard.

Anyway, we can sing.

A leftist song.

You're gonna get it, Mr. Boss Man.

We're sick of waiting
and getting clubbed.

The unions told us to be patient,
and we kept on working.

But we never talked about struggle.

We've woken up
and we've learned how to fight.

This time we'll decide how it goes.

And you who run away,

listen to the silence
of your factories.

Tomorrow it may be
machine guns you hear.

Oh, you're an athlete.

I got into the habit during my captivity.
Keeps me in shape.

The cult of Swedish gymnastics,

for healthy, tanned
and fit managers.

Getting anywhere?

It's not easy.
I'm missing some data.

Or maybe I have too much.

I don't even know
if it can be published.

Though it's really not that extreme.

May I read it?

Yes, but be kind.

I need some more information.

Well, here I am.

Where the hell are they?
They've been gone an hour.

It's the usual information meeting.

The union guys
go on and on for hours.

Afterwards, everyone's
even more confused.

You think it's gonna fail?

What are you doing?

That's my business.

Shit!

All we've done since yesterday
is wait outside this damned door!

A lot of good it does
holding the manager!

We don't know what to do with him.
It's stupid!

What else can we do?

I don't know.

What do you think about those two?

The girl is pretty cute.

That's not what I meant!

I'm starting to think
we made a mistake.

We should have explained
things to them.

We don't even know
what paper she works for.

What could she possibly write?

Maybe she won't write anything.

Once I worked in a place

and a guy came and wrote an article,
but it was never published.

We should have explained it to them.

Explained what?

At first we were right to lock them up.
But now it's different.

Stop dwelling on it.

Well?

Everyone's with us.

Isn't that what counts?

Even the CGTguys
changed their tune.

They were really tough.

- Well?
- That's where you're wrong.

They had no choice but to get tough.

They made
a complete mess of it at first.

Then they just let it deteriorate,

while yelling that management's offer
was too low.

Doesn't stop them
from scheming, though.

They know they'll wear us down.

- What happened?
- We're still holding.

Except that our hostage-taking
really sticks in their craw.

We didn't want Laffont
to see the manager.

They finally managed
to get the guys to agree.

We were watching like hawks
for signs of betrayal.

You should have heard
what they said.

What? Laffont, the assistant
manager, is coming here?

Finally, we got out.

It's about time, Laffont.

I did what I could, sir.

STICK TO THE TRUTH,
EVEN IF IT SEEMS UNLIKELY.

I can't hear!
What are they saying?

Sorry, but I want to speak
to my associate alone.

Finally, we got out.

They looked at us
and we looked at them.

I hope it didn't bother you
too much staying here.

A day and a night with that guy
wasn't too much fun.

With you guys,
it would've been different.

So much was happening
that we had no other choice.

We're not mad at you at all.

You're a reporter, right?

Yes.

Are you going to write
about what's going on?

- I'll try.
- Then we have to explain it to you.

What?

The factory and everything.

I think I understand the problem.

You haven't even asked any questions.

You didn't let me,
but I understand that.

But I saw what happened.

The reasons are more complicated.

You have to hear
about our working conditions.

When I started,
I couldn't stand the smell.

I could still smell it
after I left work.

Once, to tease me,

my friends started
sniffing around and saying,

"Smells like a pig around here!"

I was just a kid,
and I was embarrassed.

I spent a fortune on perfume!

That's not so bad.
It's disgusting, but you get used to it.

But transporting the meat -
that's really no fun!

Pigs are really heavy.

You see a new guy
happily carrying tons of them.

After a few days,
he can't even bend over.

That's not all.
Think about the sausage room.

The sausage room?

Where the meat is stuffed
into casings.

Then you tie them off.

You do that all day long.

You get breaks,
but you stop noticing them.

It's incredibly boring and repetitive.

You try to think of something else,
but you can't,

because they keep
speeding up the pace.

All you can think about
is keeping up.

The foremen won't let you forget,
and some of them are real pigs!

That's not right.

What's not right?

The way you explain things.

What's wrong with it?

Nothing. It's just not right.

I agree with him.

We're all mad at Stacquet
and the CGT guys,

but we're talking
just like they would.

- What nerve!
- Don't get mad.

If Stacquet took them on a tour,

he'd say the same things we just said.

He'd show them the shop.

Then he'd say,
"See how disgusting it is?

See how disgusting it is?

See how disgusting it is!"

Then he'd show them
the union pamphlet.

Aren't we doing the same thing?

Except he thinks foremen
are necessary.

He can't imagine
a factory without foremen.

He wouldn't mention them!
- Okay, okay.

These are good details
to write an article about.

But you should write about
what's happened since yesterday,

which is a big change
for this factory.

The fact we locked up the manager.

- What is it?
- You're fired.

- What?
- You're fired.

- What?
- Fired.

Germain fighting with Stacquet.

You've got a big mouth,
like all leftists.

Lucien refusing to let
the manager piss.

Sorry. You're too late!

I can't stand it!

It may not sound like much,

but it means a lot to me.

- Fine. Let's talk about it now.
- Okay.

When you read
about a factory in the paper,

it's full of boring details,

as if the guy had just discovered
factories for the first time.

He feels pity.
He practically cries.

But he never shows the struggle,
how things change,

how good it can feel
to lay into a real pain in the ass.

Workers are always
made to look sinister.

It's complicated.
I can't explain.

After the forces
of law and order intervened,

work resumed today
at the Salumi plant.

The manager, Mr. Guidotti, returned home
after five days of confinement.

A reporter and her husband,
who had also been detained,

returned to their regular occupations.

In Vietnam, communist forces
attacked Loc Ninh.

A shower of rockets
rained down on government forces.

- What's the footage?
- 85.

- What's the f-stop?
- 3.5.

- Roll the sound.
- Yes, sir.

Check the framing.

Bring the 1000 forward.

Mark where the girls' feet are.

Move the two-kilo.

Shine it on the door.
- It's on.

Is that the 50?

Give me the 75.

Take this down for me.

What am I doing?
You can see I'm starting a shoot.

No, a commercial.

Occasionally.

If you must define me,

say I'm a filmmaker
who sometimes makes commercials.

The distinction is important to me.

The advertising business?

Yes, it's pretty stupid and corrupt.

Did you see those agency guys on the set?
Unbelievable, huh?

Anyway, it's just
a way to make a living

without too much trouble
so I can do other things.

Or at least I try.

I used to make films.

For various reasons, I stopped,
at least for a while.

I had to pay the rent.

I looked at all the possible things
I could do.

It seems like the easy way out,
and maybe it is,

but three years ago, it wasn't.

Oh, all kinds of reasons.

A lot of things influenced
my decision.

What happened with Susan.

All kinds of things.

I told you I made films.

I was a screenwriter
during the New Wave.

That's so long ago.

I really got sick of it.

Well before May '68,

I got tired of making art films.

I was going nowhere.

I was ready for May to hit me,
and that's what happened.

Did I take part in May?

Yes and no, like everyone.

Most of my friends
got caught up in it,

marching from the Od�on
to the Sorbonne.

It was serious,
and at the same time it wasn't.

You'd run into people at meetings
where you couldn't help thinking,

"That joker's here?

With the films he makes,
he's got some nerve!"

Funny thing is, he probably thought
the same thing about you.

You wouldn't believe
how many things I saw back then

that drove me away.

That time in Flins, for example.

Or the week I spent
in Issy-les-Moulins

with a guy who called himself
a Marxist-Leninist

and who knew
the factory guys, the CSF.

And Susan and I...

that was right at the beginning.

We lived through
the month of May together.

It sounds silly and romantic,

but it was great.

When everything returned to normal

and they asked me to direct
an adaptation

of an American detective novel
by David Goodis,

I gave it all up.

It seemed a ridiculous waste of time.

I figured it was more honest
to make commercials

than to make such a stupid film.

I gave it some thought.

I still think about what I could do,

what the system would let me do.

What kinds of films
I could try to make.

I've been planning a political film
about France for three years.

It's not that easy.

I'm only now starting
to understand things

that Brecht pointed out
over 40 years ago.

Do you know his preface to Mahogany?

Isn't it brilliant?

Political activity?

No, not in the usual sense.

For years,
I voted communist as a reflex.

But I was never
a member of the party.

Meetings for the Rosenbergs,

demonstrations during
the Algerian War,

May Day, Spain...

Then there was May '68
and Czechoslovakia.

It got to be too much,
and I couldn't do it anymore.

Now?

Now things are more clear-cut,
but more complicated too.

Leftists? Yes, I know lots of them.

In their eyes, I'm a democrat.

They call me sometimes.
It doesn't much help.

I find the idea of reeducation
for intellectuals a little disturbing.

Maybe the people I know
just don't explain it well.

Anyway, most people I know

went back to their status quo,

in particular
in the Communist Party.

The hostage-taking?

You mean at the factory
where I went with Susan?

To tell you the truth,
I didn't know how to react.

It was like someone gave me
a role to play,

and I kept forgetting my lines.

I went there to see a factory
three years after May

and listen to some
hotshot manager go on and on.

I got what I asked for.

I'm sorry, but I have to
get back to it. Bye.

Music.

I've had it.

If it goes on like this, it's gonna be
exactly the same every week.

I've been working at ABS in Paris
for 31/2 years.

I used to be in the cultural department.

Literary criticism,
movie reviews, depending.

But it bored me stiff,

so after May, I transferred
to the political bureau.

Not completely. I'm sort of
halfway between the two.

What happened was
May caught them by surprise.

I seized my chance
and brought them some stuff...

interviews with people that I met
through Jacques or his friends...

profiles of Cohn-Bendit and Geismar.

That was why it was possible for me
to change my status here.

I became known as
the "specialist on the Left,"

which is pretty funny
when you think about it.

After May, everything fell apart.

They didn't care about my copy.

The time was over.

I told myself it was because
I scared them,

but I know it wasn't
really that simple.

I was trying to write
about different topics,

to avoid always writing
about students.

I proposed doing studies.

The weird thing is I fought like hell

to make them see they would have
to report on this or that,

but I'm perfectly aware of the fact
that I'm incapable of writing it.

I work crazy all week on a 30-second spot,
and I can't even do it.

Maybe it's a question of style.

I don't know if you understand,
but the office has its own style.

If you listen to the broadcasts,

it's like everything was written
by the same person.

But I realized that for me
to say what I want to say,

that style doesn't work.

Only I don't have an alternative.

But I tried.
This time I made an effort

with the piece about the factory
that was just refused.

It's like the subject matter,
the material itself,

forces you to think and write
in a different way.

I don't know.

The more I move forward,
the less I understand what's happening.

The things I'm involved with in France
are becoming less and less clear to me.

I'm an American correspondent in France
who no longer corresponds to anything.

It's going to be ice-cold.

Rattlesnake, cobra

Still in a bad mood?

Don't you think
last night was enough?

I wanted sex and you didn't.
So what?

Don't start!

Even if I wasn't in a bad mood,
saying that would put me in one.

Okay, I was wrong to say that.

But you're bringing
your work problems home.

Can't we talk about this calmly?

There are two issues:

They won't print your articles,
and you have writer's block.

It happens.
Don't beat yourself up.

It's like traffic.

Traffic?

Yes. You're jammed.

- I'm jammed?
- I didn't mean it to be nasty!

I'll end up wondering
why we're together.

- Start now.
- Start what?

Wondering why we're together.

We meet, we see a movie,
we eat, we have sex.

That's about it.

Just about.

I forgot.
Every few months, we fight.

- What you said is very interesting.
- Thanks.

When you talk about
what we do, you say,

"We meet, we see a movie
or something, we eat,

we go to bed,
maybe we have sex."

Say it again so I can be sure.

- You're a pain in the ass.
- Say it again.

We see a movie, we eat, we have sex.

And I'll add this:
I'm sick and tired of it.

And you're sick and tired of it.

I've been trying to tell you

that if you want to talk
about what we do together,

what works and what doesn't,
you have to say more.

More!

Yesterday, for example.

You shot a commercial,

my article was rejected,

I fought with my editor,

we met, we saw a movie,

we ate, we went to bed,
maybe we had sex,

you left to edit your commercial,
and I went back to the agency.

See the difference?
You... and me.

You're saying the same thing I am.

For once, I don't think so.

When you think of us,
you think 1,2,3.

I agree with the headings
movie, food and sex.

But to understand
your dissatisfaction,

you have to understand
what's outside those headings.

Understand my dissatisfaction?

Yes, understand.

- So that's it?
- Yes, that's it. Nothing else.

I should have known.

You told me yourself that sexuality
couldn't be understood by itself.

- Yes.
- Then do what you said.

Since it's about you, for once.

Your "What do we do together?"
Summons up only one picture.

Paste this picture on your forehead.

You have this picture in your head,

a woman's hand on a man's penis.

You think it satisfies you
less than three years ago.

Is the performance over?

Hold on!

I have that picture in my head,
just like you!

I know what I do with you:
Eat and have sex.

But to imagine that pleasure
and how it's changed,

I need a picture of him at work.

And this picture.

And this picture... me at work.

So you see it's a bit more complicated.

So will you tell me about your work?
- There's nothing to tell.

Then why keep doing it?

So we can live, for one thing.
Maintain this lifestyle.

You know why I decided
to do commercials.

You agreed with me
that it was more honest.

It's been three years now.
Maybe it's time to take a fresh look.

This is a stupid argument.
We'll talk tonight.

We'll talk tonight.

Maybe you're right.

We're getting nowhere.

Since you won't talk
about what I want,

let me say, first, I don't know
what I'm doing here -

Let me talk! - And second,

the agency wants to send me
back to the States,

and third, you can drive me
to the airport.

NOW
(1)

When I think about our fight,
I think she was right.

When I think of Susan and me,

I think of the two days
we were held at the factory.

I was passive,
incapable of talking to those guys.

Anything I said completely
missed the mark.

There were about 10 people there
doing something new,

and who were happy to be doing it,

and what they were doing
was the result of May '68.

We probably saw each other
at Denfert,

or at the Gare de Lyon,

or in early June in Flins.

We thought it was the end,

but now we know it was a beginning.

May 1972.

It's only now, four years later,

that I see clearly the willingness
to fight of the part of some

and the hypocrisy of others.

Don't go there!

Listen to me!

The party said not to.

"Today's events in Flins show

to what extent the aims
of the Gaullist police

are the same as
the Geismar groups."

Since May '68,
many problems have shifted.

It's only now that I can sum up
how those changes relate to other things.

Don't go there!
The party said not to.

"Today's events in Flins show

to what extent the aims
of the Gaullist police

are the same as
the Geismar groups."

That's what it says!

Don't go there!

Two against one! Let's go!

Asshole!

My problems started
when I stopped doing my job

as a progressive intellectual.

A hasty signature for Brazil or Vietnam,
a quick visit to hunger strikers,

a short meeting at the union hall.

I left the party without realizing
that I'd borrowed from them

a way of understanding
my role as an intellectual.

My job is to make films,

to find new forms for new content.

His name is Gilles.
He was born on April 17, 1951.

He's a student
at the Lyc�e Thiers.

Gilles, they'll say you deserved
to die as an "agitator."

I who fought beside you can find
no more beautiful name to give you.

They'll say that all you knew
was family and school,

and that you learned
about the world from books.

I say your books thrust you into life,

because from them
you learned to unlearn.

At 4... 00 on May 3,
you joined forces with life

and carried on your struggle
in the light of day.

At 4... 00 today, June 10,
you joined forces with history

and met your death,
leaving us behind.

Don't cry, brother.
We'll carry on!

CLASS STRUGGLE

Dunkerque.

H�nin-Li�tard.

Vallourec.

B�ziers.

Faulquemont.

Nanterre.

Ferodo.

Valentine.

Nantes-Batignolles.

Palais des Sports.

Peugeot-Montb�liard.

Affaire Guyot.

Pennaroya.

Berliet-Montplaisir.

Le Mans.

Prison de Toul.

Renault-Billancourt.

NOW
(2)

I knew I probably shouldn't say no.

But I didn't know it would be you.

Now I know, and I say no.

It's one right decision
among the many possible.

Anyway, I want to work,

and going to Lille with you
today isn't working.

Yeah, we're traveling
at different speeds.

At the moment, you can't help me,
and I can't help you.

Right. We're each on our own.

It's no big deal.

That's how it goes.

Damn it!

Something wrong?

No, everything's all right.

Another article
the agency will reject.

I'll throw it at them,
along with my resignation.

A little cog in the struggle.

All those idiots want
to hear about

is large sales outlets
and the changing urban landscape.

But if I talk about the people
who sell and buy,

here and now...

Change direction
with the French Communist Party!

For a democratic government
of the people!

4.75 francs,
marked down from 5.50!

"France, a country rich
in natural and human resources,

whose people's struggle for freedom

has furthered the history
of human progress."

A supermarket.

700 million francs a day in sales.

A large sales outlet,
and social theater at the same time.

Everyone's shouting...
except the audience.

They pay and pretend
to keep their mouths shut.

No one addresses them yet.

Outside the factory,
it's still like a factory.

No one talks to anyone else.

They're all waiting for new actors.

4.75 francs,
marked down from 5.50!

Change direction
with the French Communist Party!

For a democratic government
of the people!

Live better!

A democratic government
would allow

blue-collar and white-collar workers,

wage-earners or not, a better life.

- Can I see your book?
- Ask politely.

Sorry. May I look at your book?

Yes, we're interested
in hearing from young people.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

Change direction
with the French Communist Party!

4.75 francs,
marked down from 5.50!

I don't understand
this part about culture.

"Encouraging creativity in all sectors
will stimulate the nation's progress

and pave the way for improved
personalities and human relations."

It's a bit confusing.

You just opened it!
You can't have analyzed it.

He asked you a question.
Answer it!

Are you a militant?
- Of course I am.

Did you write that?
Then explain it.

Come see me at my office.

No!

Instead of hawking your books
like vegetables, explain your politics.

Absolutely not!

You can't answer a simple question
about the first sentence.

You're all witnesses!
He's a troublemaker!

It's free! Help yourselves!

It's free!

It's free!

To change everything,
where do you start?

Everywhere!

Cops! Bosses! Murderers!

NOW
(2)

NOW
(3)

All films have an ending.

Him or Her, looking worriedly
at the other and saying,

"I was afraid
you wouldn't come back. "

Then Her or Him looking
worriedly at the other,

replying, "You should have been."

Yes, some films make the audience think
that He and She solve one problem

only to go on to the next,
and that that's how life is.

But in this film,
we leave Him and Her

looking at each other wordlessly.

We'll just say that He and She

have started to think of themselves
in a historical context.

Each his own historian.

Me. France. 1972.

It's sunny in France

Nothing else matters

France. 1972.

History. Me.

Me. You.

Cops! Bosses! Murderers!

Me. You.

You don't have to be
a leftist to think like that.

France. 1972.

Sometimes what's needed
is a good kick in the ass.

The CGTsays...

Let's all live life to the fullest

It's sunny in France

Nothing else matters

Each his own historian.

We'd be more careful
about the way we live.

Me, you, him, her, us, all of you.

FIN

FINISH

FINISHED

THIS HAS BEEN AN ACCOUNT
FOR THOSE WHO DON'T KEEP THEM.