All language subtitles for Merci Docteur Rey 2002

Hi!

I do so much rollerblading,
I'm going to turn pro.

I love going at night...

as long as it's not raining.

Are you "Young, good-Iooking guy, 23,
looking for same"?

That's me.

I'm "Handsome guy seeks love."

I once gave online dating a try...

but I got taken.

It's not funny, man.

My ad was:
"Handsome guy seeks soul mate."

And one day, I come across a guy
with the same ad as me.

I say, "Great, two hot guys
looking for their soul mate."

We're made for each other!

So I start sending him a ton of messages.

But the bastard never wrote back.

So I start getting more and more violent
in my emails.

At the end I even threatened
to break his face.

And then what?

Finally I realized...

I was actually sending messages
to my own profile.

To myself, that is.

For several months.

- Seriously?
- Yeah!

Every time I went online...

I came across my own profile.

Of course.

Poor bastard!

So in the end I quit surfing the Net
because it cut me off from reality.

Now I'm in communications.

And you? Tell me about yourself.
What turns you on?

I get off on really macho stuff...

for men, by men, you know?

Macho stuff, man, between men, man.

But sensual, too.

I gotta take a leak.

Don't bother waiting.

Why, do you piss a lot?

I don't care. I don't get off on piss.

Thank you, Doctor Rey

- Elisabeth Beaumont, welcome.
- Thank you.

You haven't performed in Paris in 10 years.

That's true, most of my work
is in the United States...

because France is always on strike.

I love Paris very much.

I consider Paris to be my home.

My son lives here.

- Your son? I didn't hear you had a son.
- Oh, I do, yes. I have a son.

- And what does he do?
- He does not sing Turandot.

I do.

You're here to perform Turandot...

in a new production directed
by the one and only Claude Sabri�.

The national treasure.

Turandot is known to be
a particularly difficult opera.

It has...

vocal problems that are virtually unresolved.

How do you go about resolving them?

I gargle.

Gargle?

Twenty-three-year-old seeks same.

Twenty-three-year-old seeks same.

- Twenty-three?
- Yeah.

Call me at 0143211234.

How old are you?

Call me, I'll tell you.

Oh, God.

- How old are you?
- Forty-six.

No, forget it. Didn't you understand?
"Seeks same."

The same, right.
I have a proposition for you.

- What?
- To hire you.

Sorry. I can't screw someone
I'm not interested in.

Who's talking about screwing?
That's not what I want.

What is it, then?

Come to my place tonight at 11:00.

I'll leave a key under the doormat.

What are you doing later?

Meet me at the opera afterwards.
We'll go have a bite with Claude.

I can't.

Damn it, Thomas.

I am singing in Paris for once.
You could at least show some interest.

Relax, Mom. What, do you have
stage fright or something?

No...

I just want to be with you...

my beautiful son.

- Say you'll come.
- I can't, I said. I'm going out.

Going out.

With Linda, is that it?

When will I get to meet this little Linda
of yours? It seems to be getting serious.

So, is she pretty at least?

Prettier than me?

Are you a friend of Bob's? Did he hurt you?

Come on, it'll be all right. Come on.

"Come to my place tonight at 11:00."

125 Blvd. Voltaire.

There's a code.

Welcome

All the lights will be off
except the one in the bedroom closet.

You'll find an envelope with 500 francs.

Close the door and stay there.

Wait for me.

I will show up with someone.

"As we will never again see each other...

"I wish you the best of luck
in finding 'Same'."

What kind of show is this?

Bingo, it's a show. Enjoy it.

Are you okay, honey?

What a night.

I haven't had such a great rehearsal since...

Since the last time I worked with Claude.

You know, she's a genius.

Well, to tell you the truth...

I wasn't bad. Quite a solo.

You should have come!

And I was thinking...

why not with Linda?

Claude wanted to take me out
to eat afterwards but...

I was just exhausted.

Besides, I had this strange craving.

You know...

I haven't had this craving
since I was pregnant with you.

You want a taste?

Maybe you'll remember.

I read somewhere...

that babies remember from the womb
what their mothers ate.

Thomas!

I told you not to slam the door.

NO ENTRANCE

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes...

I told Claude that you would come
to the opening night.

That's Friday, it's the day after tomorrow.

Please come.

Oh, darling, please come.

Please come, Thomas.
It would mean so much to both of us!

Honey, do you hear me?

Honey?

Do you hear me? Thomas!

What's wrong?

Oh, my God, honey, what happened?

Tell me. Talk to me.

Thomas, what happened? Is it Linda?

It's that Linda, isn't it?

Is it?

Honey, scoot over.

Let me tell you something.

It's important to be able to talk.

What did she do to you?

Thomas, what happened?

You don't want to talk.

Oh, God.

Don't worry.

You know...

we've all had our hearts broken.

Forty-something-year-old gentleman
seeks guy to hire.

- Forty-something-year-old gentleman?
- Yes.

- Give me your number.
- You first.

0149537122.

- Hello?
- It's me. What do you look like?

5'8", 140 pounds, 25 years old, well built.
And you?

- 5'11", 145 pounds.
- How old are you?

- I'm 46.
- Okay, I'll take 500 francs.

- Okay.
- Where and when?

There's a caf� near me, Le Mexico,
41 rue de la Pompe. Be there at 10:00.

Culture - WHEN ART BECOMES POPULAR

- Hello, sir. What will it be?
- Coffee, please.

- Very well.
- Thank you.

- Hello, sir.
- Coffee, please.

Of course.

- What are you doing here?
- And you?

- The same as you, I bet.
- Fuck, I had a feeling about that guy.

Yeah, you never know,
especially when you're broke.

- Buy me a coffee?
- That's four since last night.

Four what? Customers or no-shows?

Four cups of coffee. I'm totally wired.

What drives these people to stand us up?
Do they get off on that?

Yeah, I guess.

Sometimes I wonder if they set up meetings
in front of their place just to watch us.

He must be coming in his pants,
that goddamned fag.

Yes, what is it?

I witnessed a murder last night,
125 Blvd. Voltaire, fourth floor, on the left.

Easy there, put down the handkerchief.
It won't do you any good.

- Start over.
- 125 Blvd. Voltaire...

a murder, fourth floor, on the left.

- You're the one looking to hire a guy?
- What?

Don't bullshit me. You don't think I saw you
with your sweater?

- Hand over my 500 francs.
- What?

I recognize your voice, you queer!
What did you think?

That you would go home and beat off
thinking about an orgy with the others?

- Give me that.
- My watch!

It was my father's!

Thomas, we have to talk.

What's wrong?

Why do you look so upset?

Something terrible has just happened.

I can't believe it's true.

Thomas, two policemen came.

Two policemen?

You know, I always told you...

that your father died in a car accident
when I was pregnant with you.

It was a lie.

I lied about everything.

I lied about the tombstone
we visited each year.

I lied about the obituary in the paper.

And I lied about the watch
with his initials on it.

I made it all up.

And I'm ashamed.

I thought he was in the United States.

Today I learned he's been living in France
for some time.

He was killed last night in his apartment.

A sordid robbery.

He was stabbed in the back.

Thomas, wait!

There's more.

When I was chosen for Morgan...
God, I was young.

Top of the heap.

It was just one success after another:

Isadora, Julia, Prick up your Ears,
Howards End...

Oscars, Emmys, Golden Globes.

There were just so many of them,
I couldn't keep count.

And now...

Well, it's not as if I'm out of work,
but the offers are less and less interesting.

True, things took off again...

with Mission: Impossible,
lovely Tom Cruise...

rather short legs,
but beautifully proportioned.

I wish that, for once...

you would stop telling me I have to learn
how to curb my narcissism.

I don't know what that means...

and if that is my problem
will you teach me how to curb it?

Help me get out of this rut I'm in?

Force me to do something productive
with my life...

instead of letting me rot away...

like that pot of mayonnaise
that's been on my coffee table for days...

because I haven't found
the willpower to put it back in the fridge.

The day that mayonnaise becomes
thoroughly putrid...

that day, I'll kill myself.

You just sit there quietly
and let me sink into my hole.

It's immoral. It's obscene.

You know, Dr. Rey,
sometimes I wish you were dead.

I say "I hope you die!"
And you don't even answer?

This time you've gone too far,
I can't take it anymore!

You're a real bitch!

Okay, I've made up my mind.

I'm putting an end
to this interminable analysis.

Goodbye.

Hey, Dr. Rey.

Dr. Rey, Dr. Rey, get up!

I wasn't speaking seriously.
I wasn't serious.

It was just a joke. It was just words. Get up!

Dr. Rey, please. Is this some kind of a joke?

Okay, we've had enough.
Okay, okay, wake up. Come on.

Excuse me.

Are you Dr. Rey?

Yes.

I came by because I need to talk.

Well?

Do you have a minute?
Because it's really serious.

- Mortally?
- What?

I mean, not really.

Not really so serious
that it can't wait until Monday?

Besides, I meet by appointment only.

Please, it's urgent.

Fifteen minutes, that's it.

Thank you, Dr. Rey.

If you don't talk to me,
how do you expect me to help you?

What I tell you
doesn't leave this room, okay?

Of course.

Professional confidentiality does exist...

believe it or not.

And you won't say a word
to my mother or the police.

First of all, I don't even know your mother...

and second of all, I doubt that this is
of any interest to the police.

You'll see.

In analysis, crimes are rather...

how can I say...

a product of the imagination.

You saw your own father murdered
and you didn't know it was him?

That guy...

I mean...

my father...

invited me to his place.

He wanted to me to hide and watch him
for money, 500 francs.

Fuck!

Do you want to come back to my place?

You could rest up a little.

We could both do with a little rest.

And then we can decide what to do.

Is that normal?

Normal?

That an analyst invites her patient home?

No.

No, it's not normal,
but I have a confession to make.

I am not Dr. Rey.

Oh, yeah?

Are you some kind of replacement analyst?

No, no...

I killed her.

I don't understand. Is that a joke?

Come over here and you will.

Don't move. You have to believe me.

She was evil. She did this to punish me.

It's not what you think.

It's not murder!

Manslaughter, maybe, but not murder!

It was an accident, I swear!

I don't want to go to prison.
I didn't know my words were so powerful.

- Manslaughter?
- My God, it's not murder!

This woman died of a heart attack.

- What?
- Lf she took this, she had heart trouble.

My grandmother took it, too.

Maybe you should get up.

Oh, you must have dropped this.

- Is that the money that...
- Yes.

- Would you like some flowers?
- Oh, yes!

Fifty francs.

- I can't break that. Is that all you have?
- Yes.

I can't give you change.

- Here.
- Thanks.

Do you want some almond syrup?

Sure.

I love almond syrup.
It looks like milk, but tastes like candy.

What do you do for a living?

I'm an actress. Can't you tell?

And what are you working on
at the moment?

Just a low-budget horror film,
nothing to write home about...

but it pays the rent and the analyst.

Maybe you should tell someone.

I mean, she must have a family.

No. She lived all alone like me,
no husband, no kids.

- Constant man trouble.
- Oh, yeah?

She didn't know how to keep them.
She spent her whole life getting dumped.

Between you and me,
she was a bit off her rocker.

Well, thanks for the drink.

You're leaving already?

Yes.

My mother's expecting me.

Stay. I'd like it.

- So let's call the cops about your analyst.
- Our analyst.

Your analyst. My analyst is you.

So?

So?

Where should we pick up?
Where we left off?

Now?

I'm tired. I want to sleep.

Thomas...

darling, I know that what I did was awful.

I know.

But please try to understand.

I love you.

I love you...

as only a mother can love.

Please be Claude. God.

Claude? Claude, is it you?

Where have you been?

You got my message, I presume.

I did.

- Oh, my.
- I had a fund-raiser...

at the Ministry of Culture,
Communication, and Youth.

I bought one just like it at auction.

It used to belong to some...

dictator's daughter.

I can't remember which one now.

Is it Idi Amin? Marcos?

By the way, have you heard from Thomas?

Where is the dress? Where is the dress?

Have you tried his friends?

It was Franco, I think.

Here it is!

Not bad, don't you think?

A real princess' dress.

By the way, any news from Thomas?

Thomas. Jesus Christ, Claude!

You really know how to stick
the fucking knife in the wound.

It's only now do I realize
I don't know a single one of his friends.

All he mentioned was a girlfriend.

Really?

Yes, a certain Linda.

I don't know a thing about her.

I don't know where she lives.
I don't even know how they met.

- I think I'll call the police.
- Did you try le bis?

What's le bis?

He has his own phone line, right?

Dial le bis and you'll see who he called last.

Perhaps it's this little Linda.

Hey guys, it's ringing.

- Hello?
- It's a chick!

Good evening.

I'm looking for Thomas. Tell me where he is.

Says she's looking for Thomas.

- Who's Thomas?
- What should I say?

Come on, give me that!

Hello? You know what,
forget about your Thomas.

You're talking to me now, okay?

I'm warning you,
if you so much as laid a finger on him...

I'll kill you!

No threats! Let me talk. Hello?

- Here, go ahead.
- Go roll the joints.

Hello, my pretty flower?

"Pretty flower," how sweet.

He called me a pretty flower!
Thank you, young man!

What do you want?

Money? Jewels? Name your price.

Yeah, hi. We're in La Plaine Saint-Denis,
under the A 86 ramp.

There's a vacant lot facing the Quick.

Get a move on. You have a half hour.

No cops, you come alone, okay?

"You're a brute, a piece of shit.

"You've fucked it all up,
I'm gonna kick your ass."

"You're a brute, a piece of shit.

"You've fucked it all up,
I'm gonna kick your ass."

"You're a..."

What?

- I had a weird dream.
- Ah, yes.

Yes.

I was alone in the metro
and we pulled into a station.

The murderer was there,
waiting for me on the platform.

He takes his knife from his boot...

he steps toward my car...

I'm scared, I try to scream,
but no sound comes out.

Then we start moving.
We leave him on the platform.

Except...

Except?

Except he's barefoot.

Someone's wearing his boots. Is it me?
I don't know, but I'm not alone in the car.

It's perhaps become necessary...

that we explore the question...

what significance does wearing boots
have for you?

God!

My dear boy, you must really learn
how to curb you narcissism.

What?

I said, you must learn how
to curb your narcissism.

- What does that mean?
- Think.

I am thinking but I still don't get it.

Well, when you do get it,
you'll know what it means to wear boots.

They're just kids.
Thomas is certainly with his friends.

They were joking!

My son is in danger.

I can smell it with my nose like an animal!

You wouldn't understand, old maid!

Elisabeth, I'm not an old maid.

I'm a lesbian. There's a difference!

I have my checkbook and my credit cards...

and I will just...

take my diamond necklace.

No, actually, you're right.

They're amateurs.
They wouldn't know real from fake.

I'll just take my costume jewelry.

Okay.

I'm ready, let's go.

Beaumont in the suburbs. Why not?

I'm sorry, you're not Claude Sabri�
by chance?

Yes, I am!

- So you speak English?
- Yes.

Because I saw your show.
Hamlet, All Woman.

It was fantastic.
I would have loved to act in it.

To do that, you really would have had
to be all woman.

How's Turandot coming along?

Fine, thanks.
We had dress rehearsal yesterday...

and tomorrow is opening night.

At least, I hope.

Come on.

I really do love the opera.
But it's much too expensive.

I think we need more.

Listen, if you wait for us for two minutes
in Saint-Denis...

I'll give you two tickets
for the premiere tomorrow.

- Really?
- Sure!

You're on.

I got you!

This is good shit.

Come on, let's go home now.

Is that Thomas' old lady?

Is that Thomas?

Enough is enough!

It's not Thomas.

Where's my Thomas?

Who?

I said, where is Thomas?

- What are you talking about, madam?
- Don't fool with me, you little twerp.

- I recognize your voice.
- What about my voice?

This will help you remember.

- It's just a stage prop.
- Is it Carnival?

She's right. The phone rang.

We didn't think it was serious.
We were just were goofing off.

I'll show you.

Help!

What have I done?
I've lost him. I've lost my son.

Oh, God, my life, my sole joy.

The only person in the world
who makes me happy.

The only person in the world
who makes me human.

Forty-something-year-old gentleman
seeks guy to hire.

- Did you sleep well?
- Not bad.

How about you?

Like a baby.

Are you hungry?
You want me to go buy bread?

No, I never eat anything in the morning.

I'm going down for the paper anyway.

What do you want,
croissant, pain au chocolat?

- I said, I never eat anything in the morning.
- Jesus, you scared me!

- Is that him?
- Who?

Him.

Is he your murderer?

I heard you last night
doing the phone thing.

- I thought you slept like a baby.
- Since when are babies great sleepers?

No, it's not him.

Are you angry?

Angry? What about?

- Because I did it in your place.
- Do as you please.

If you think you'll find love
at the other end of the line, dial away.

But leave your father's murder to the police.

I don't want to come back
and find you dead on the couch.

I think you should spend the day with me.

Okay.

But only if you come to the opera
with me tonight.

To the opera, what on earth for?

You want me to see my mother?
Okay, but only if you come.

To the opera with the two of you?

No, with me. She sings.

- Is she a diva?
- I'll say.

No, I can't.

I can't. Not that. I'm not ready yet.

Divas make me want to puke.

It's you and me, or not at all.

What's this mayonnaise doing here?
It'll spoil.

Hands off the mayo, okay?

- You like them?
- Are they like the ones he wore?

Exactly the same.

I didn't mean literally.

When I talked about learning
to wear the boots...

I didn't mean real boots.

Especially not these.
And frankly, they're not your style.

Come on, we're going to be late.

Come on, we're going to be late!

Gentlemen, I hope you'll forgive me.

10:00 is just a little early for me.
And to boot...

I didn't sleep a wink last night.

So, sit down. Have some cake.

You were telling us that you hadn't
seen your husband for...

Oh, for 23 years.

Not since I gave birth to my son.

Twenty-three years. That's a long time.

And you have had no contact with him?

Once in a while on the phone.

And what did you talk about?

- How many sugars?
- Two, please.

- Two.
- Three for me.

- Three?
- Thank you.

I asked, what did you talk about?

- Here.
- With my...

Oh, nothing.

We didn't have much to say.

Your son and your husband,
did they talk together?

No, never.

Not even on the phone?

No, never. Why?

Oh, God.

Are you okay?

Please. I drink a little brew of peppercorns...

every morning, for my voice.

- That's salt.
- Salt, too.

Pepper and salt to sing without fault

Have you told your son
about the inheritance?

No, I haven't had the time.

Mrs. Beaumont, where is Thomas?

We'd like a word with him.

Hi.

- Howards End ran yesterday.
- Really? I didn't know.

I couldn't have watched it anyway,
I was too busy with Thomas.

You were wonderful.

The scene of your death really moved me.

- I was in tears.
- You mustn't.

- What is she doing?
- Watching the scene.

I mean, in general, what does she do here?

She's an actress. She plays her roles.

Steve!

Where's Brendan?

No!

You killed him!

You scumbag!

Wasn't she the one who dubbed...

Vanessa Redgrave's movies?

Yes, back in the day. Most of them, in fact.

- Okay, I'm ready.
- Okay, let's go.

Steve!

Where's Brendan?

You're a brute, a piece of shit.

I'm gonna kick your ass,
you fucking asshole!

She's great.

One of the best.
A real star, but you can't tell her that.

- What, that she's good?
- No, that she's a star.

She has a hard time
accepting certain compliments.

You destroyed my life, you fucking bastard!

I'm going to kill you!

You flushed my life down the toilet!

- You're good. Why don't you act for real?
- I always do act for real.

- I mean...
- I know what you mean.

Of course I'd love to go back
onto the stage again. It's my dream.

But you know things aren't as easy as that.
You get stuck in a rut and then...

And then?

My dreams turn into a nightmare,
always the same one.

- What is it?
- I told you...

there are certain kinds of actors...

that I can't stand.

They make me want to puke.

Elisabeth!

I don't accept 500-franc bills.

- Is that right?
- I'm afraid so.

- Are you sure?
- Yes, I'm sorry.

- Here you go.
- Thank you.

Your mother's incredible.

So gentle.

Yeah, but that's not her.
That's Li�. Mom's Turandot.

She comes in later.

Here comes Mom.

- Does she have a silent role?
- Not exactly.

But the slave girl has the main role, right?

They're about even. Much to Mom's regret.

It will be much better
if you see your mother alone.

- I promised.
- Please, I want to go home.

- Come on, she's not going to bite you.
- Says you. I'm off.

I'm doing this for you, Dr. Rey.

I hope you're proud of me
because I'm scared stiff.

Would they've given me a standing ovation
if they hadn't already been standing...

for that little what's-her-name, Li�?

Of course they would.

- They didn't stay standing just to be polite?
- You were marvelous, darling.

Just marvelous.

Damn that goody two-shoes.

God knows why Claude
had me wear this veil the whole time.

We could hear you perfectly well.

Would you prefer that we leave you
and just meet you at the party?

No, stay. I'm not sure I'm going, actually.
I'm waiting for my son.

How is Thomas?

I can tell we're going to have
one of those interminable discussions...

between a wicked witch of a mother...

and a son who knows everything about life.

If it's about girls, and it always is...

I have just one piece of advice:

Accept his girlfriends.

Accept them, and smile...

and wait until it's over.
It's the only solution.

Sybil is right.

Come in!

- You were very good, Mom.
- Thank you.

Dressing Room N� 8

I have a friend I want you to meet.

You have a friend you want me to meet?

- This is...
- No, allow me.

Everybody, meet Linda.

Yes, meet Linda.

Come on in, honey.
Don't be such a wallflower.

Hello.

Hello.

- I'm Linda.
- Yes, we got that far. Linda what?

Just Linda. Linda... All alone like...

Like Dalida.

It's a pleasure to meet you.

The pleasure is mine.

Don't be so surprised, you two,
a mother understands these things.

We don't even need to understand.
We know everything already.

- Isn't that right, Sybil?
- Absolutely.

So, how did you two meet?

Well, it was really thanks to Dr. Rey.
May she rest in...

Well, thank you, Dr. Rey.

Friends, I think we should leave you now.
We can catch up at the party.

Yes, the party.

Goodbye, Thomas. Goodbye, Linda.

- Enjoy yourselves!
- Wait.

Don't want to waste the champagne.

- Hello, stranger.
- How are you?

I'd like you to meet a friend of mine.

Good evening.

That is Linda.

- Hello, Linda.
- Hello.

So, Linda, what is it that you do?

- I'm taking deep breaths because...
- No, for a living, bubblehead.

You don't mind if I call you bubblehead,
do you? I mean it kindly.

I'm always very relaxed
with my son's girlfriends.

So what is it that you do?

- For a living, I'm a...
- She's an actress.

- You were wonderful, Mrs. Beaumont.
- Mrs. Beaumont.

Well, this little Linda of yours is a real pearl.

Call me Elisabeth.

So, have you been sleeping with my son
for long?

- Mom!
- She's always tense on opening nights.

She drinks, too.
That's the icing on the cake.

Can't you leave them the hell alone?
You're unbearable.

You're so disgraceful, you made her puke.

I don't want to see you again, ever.

I'm moving in with Linda.

Stay, I have a story to tell you.

Your father left me for another man.

For a man!

So what? Shit happens.
What's the problem?

The problem is,
it's never much fun getting dumped...

but when you leave the Conservatory
with a baby in your belly...

it's no fun at all.

Die! I hope you die!

Why doesn't it work?

Why doesn't it work for me?
It worked for you, Dr. Rey, why not for me?

When you were four,
you asked where your father was.

I had to choose between a coward
who didn't want his own son...

and a dead father.

I chose a dead father.

I accept the consequences of my decision.

Hello again.

I'm so terribly sorry. I'm ashamed.

Don't worry.
I've gotten it all out of my system.

- Do you know where the exit is?
- It's...

- You're not going to wait for Thomas?
- I'll see him back at the house.

- I can't go back there.
- But it's over. Forget about it.

You had a little too much champagne.
It happens, that's all.

- It's not that. It's her.
- Elisabeth? She is what she is.

- A pain-in-the-ass diva.
- She makes me want to puke.

And the tombstone?

The tombstone?

Well, the year you were born...

there was a Quentin T. Beaumont
who died in Biarritz...

and he was about your father's age.

Since you insisted on visiting
his tombstone, I thought...

Biarritz, at least we could go to the beach.

So my name doesn't come from the "T"?

Quentin T. Beaumont. You told me
that his middle name was Thomas.

That was another lie,
but that was just a tiny lie.

As tiny as the initials
you had engraved on the watch?

- So where did it come from?
- Cartier!

Not my watch, my name!

Fine.

Since it seems to be the moment of truth...

When I was a kid, I had a little dog.

The little dog's name was Tommy...

Toto...

Tomtom...

Oh, but I loved that dog!

She once told me about a young actress
who vomited on a well-known actress...

on stage, the night of the premiere.
The Faithful Servants, I believe it was.

She was a very promising young actress.

It just goes to show you that it can happen
to anyone, anywhere.

Our singing nuns.

And what ever became of the girl?

I don't know. It was a long time ago.
She disappeared, I think.

- That figures.
- What's that?

That she disappeared.

Getting called a puker
one's whole career is...

You!

It's you!

Your name's not Linda!

Please, what was my father's name?

Robert. Bobby. Bobert.
Every girl's heartthrob.

Here we are.

All cleaned up.

Thomas, I'm really not feeling well.
I want to go home. You've got a key.

Wait, I'm coming.

Betty.

- Oh, my gosh!
- Oh, Betty.

- Oh, what a lovely surprise.
- Betty, you look marvelous.

Vanessa Redgrave, my son Thomas.

Claude Sabri�, this is Linda.

- Linda has no last name.
- Like Cher.

Exactly. And she's an actress, just like you.

Oh, really? What are you doing now?

Film.

It's a small, small, small world.

And what have you done?

Given the circumstances,
perhaps I should know.

Howard...

Will you come with me to Howards End?

Hello, my friends, I am in heaven!

"Howard Isa"?

We can't be sure who anyone is anymore.

"Howard is a Jew"?

- What kind of a title is that?
- I must have missed it.

You know, your voice sounds so familiar.

Uncanny. Have we met before?

- Well...
- You remind me...

Your voice sounds exactly
like that awful girl...

that dubs me in French films.

I never understood why they give me
such an ill-fitting voice.

We should be going.

Thomas.

Your father left you everything.

He left you an apartment in New York
and another one here in Paris.

You're independent now.

So I'm counting on you, Linda.

Take care of my son, he's all that I have.

Your son is so sweet.

Raising children well these days is...

a mission impossible.

Betty, bravo!

Why do you think I've been in analysis
for the last 20 years?

Dr. Rey and I were making real progress.

I used to think that I really was
Vanessa Redgrave, now I just pretend.

- But, progress.
- Yes, it is.

But you wouldn't understand
because you're so normal.

How many of these "Lindas" do you have?

Lots. But the latest one is the best.

Maude!

- It's Maude, isn't it?
- No, it's Linda.

It was Maude before.

Today, my name is Penelope.

As for Linda...

It doesn't matter,
come here just a second, please.

No, just Penelope, or Linda, or Maude,
I don't care.

Elisabeth and I have an interview tomorrow
at the radio station.

There's a caf� next door called...

Think of any excuse you can
to bring Thomas there.

We'll pretend to bump into you.

We've got to give them a hand.

We can't let the situation
between his mother and him deteriorate.

What did she want?

She asked me to do a radio play.

Tomorrow morning. Will you come?

Hurry, go!

We'll get them.

I won't be long, half an hour at the most.

See you soon.

I hate this kind of broadcast.
I don't know how to talk the way they want.

What is the name of the book?

"Life Narcissism, Death Narcissism."

- May I borrow it?
- It's a gift.

- No, I can't.
- Please, I have another copy.

A present.

Hide, quick!
We'll meet back here after the show.

Elisabeth Beaumont, hello.

Claude Sabri�, hello.

Thank you for being on our show
this morning.

Claude Sabri�...

what can you tell us
to help us demystify this opera?

Tell us about Turandot.

It's the story of a woman who learns to love.

What exactly does that mean,
"who learns to love"?

Learning to love means
to lose a little bit of one's pride...

one's narcissism...

and one's selfishness.

- Got a cigarette?
- I don't smoke.

- Neither do I.
- So why ask?

To talk to you.

To me, why?

Never had the fantasy
of opening up to a stranger?

Telling him things
you'd never tell anyone else?

- Yeah, but I rarely act it out.
- You should.

When you do, you'll do it with clean hands.

- Do you want to have a cup of coffee?
- Sure.

It's surely Turandot's narcissism...

which makes her submit
to her murderous impulses.

But it's this act of extreme violence...

which allows her to access love.

Turandot learns to love love itself.

This is tremendous.

She controls her narcissism
and opens up to others.

"I know the stranger's name.

"His name is Love."

"I know the stranger's name.
His name is Love."

Precisely.

Marrying the prince is marrying love itself.

That's what's called...

moral narcissism.

Elisabeth Beaumont...

you're an international diva...

who has performed
on all the world's stages.

With such a busy schedule,
do you feel capable of loving love...

- or achieving an oral narcissism?
- Moral.

- Excuse me, I'm so sorry.
- Wait, we'll go out for coffee.

ELISABETH BEAUMONT,
What is your favorite number?

You look paralyzed. I'm no Medusa. I swear.

- How did you know I was here?
- I didn't.

I did a radio play this morning.

What a strange coincidence.

Would you like to go for a walk?

- Can you break 500 francs?
- I can't.

It's all right. I have change.

Isn't there something you wanted to tell me?

Lots of things.
But I wanted to tell them to a stranger.

Now I feel like I know you.

Like I want to.

- To what?
- To get to know you a little more.

It's the song from Grand Hotel.

- One of my favorite movies.
- And mine, too.

I owe you an apology for last night.

As for Thomas,
I owe him a lifetime of apologies.

- He must hate me.
- Yes, he does.

But he hates his father, too...

for having abandoned him like a coward.

At least you acted in your son's interest.

That's what I'm trying
to make him understand...

but it will take some time.

You're a lot less dumb than I thought!

Thank you! And you're a lot less diva.

I don't even feel like vomiting anymore.

Linda, let me tell you something.

Diva is a role like any other.

I was young. I fell into it. It was fun.

Now I'm trapped there.

You're still searching for your role.

- It's good to search.
- Thomas, maybe at his age, not at mine.

But I'm taking control of my life again.
Vanessa, vomiting...

I'm turning over a new leaf.

- Ever since I met your son...
- Don't mention the two of you in one breath.

One thing at a time.

Right now, I just want to be
on good terms with Thomas.

You know, I have a rendezvous with him...

in the caf� opposite the radio station.
Let's go and see him.

- The radio station?
- Yes, let's go.

No, I have an errand to run
tomorrow morning.

Why don't we meet afterwards
at The Two Constances caf�?

- Do you know it?
- Yes, I do.

It's not very far from my apartment...

so I'll be there tomorrow morning,
at 11:00, with Thomas.

Listen, I'll pass by, by accident.

Of course, if he sees me,
he'll pretend not to notice.

- Don't worry, you can count on me.
- Thank you, Linda.

- Let's go back to my place.
- Sure.

I was wrong. You would make
a divine daughter-in-law.

- About that...
- Don't think I'm laughing at you.

Please, excuse me.

It's just that, for more than 20 years...

I thought I had everything under control.

But life is so unpredictable.
Take you, for example.

I always thought, Thomas, he'll end up gay.

With a mother like me, it's inevitable.

But whether he's gay or with you...

it's pretty much the same thing, isn't it?

That's my girl. Come on.

Game.

Dangerous.

I used to have a boyfriend.
His name was Bob.

I met him two years ago. I was 21.

- At the same age?
- I was spending summer with my family.

Bob had rented a villa in the same village.

One day my father and my uncle
passed into Bob's place at dawn.

They found us in bed together.

And afterwards my family disowned me.

There was no one left in my life
except for Bob.

He took me to Paris.

He wanted to adopt me.

He said, "You'll be the son I never had."

That's when things started going bad.

Why?

He said that he already had a son in Paris.

A boy he'd supposedly never met.

He said everything he was doing with me
he should have been doing with him.

I'm not talking about making love.

There wasn't much of that
between us anymore.

I mean adopting me,
taking care of my future.

Good riddance!

Is he "Real good-Iooking
looking for real thing"?

Sorry, I heard you again last night.

- Are you spying on me or what?
- Not at all, I'm just a very light sleeper.

I'll buy some earplugs...

so you can have yourself a private life.

So, is he "Real good-Iooking
looking for real thing"?

Yeah, whatever.

Well, he's good-Iooking...

and he seems to have found
what he was looking for.

Here's my address. I don't have a phone yet.

Look, I'd like it a lot
if ever I could see you again.

And I have to say
this talking is doing me good.

Hey, I forgot. I have something for you.

A little present.

Shit, he's my brother.

Thomas.

I guess you want me to finish my story.

I have a story of my own to tell you.

Who goes first?

You want to flip a coin?
Do you have a coin?

This is all I have.

Pick a hand.

Me first. Here.

- Keep it.
- I don't want your money.

- Keep it.
- Okay.

If you take my watch,
I'll take your 500 francs.

So one night, I came to Bob's apartment...

and he says to me:

Tonight, someone's coming
for their missing money.

Should be enough to keep you going for...

several years.

Expenses, you know.

- I don't want your money.
- Yes, but you should take it.

You'll need it.

And I'd like you to have this...

because...

our time is up.

I ran out of the apartment.
I didn't know where to go.

So I sat in the corridor next to his door.

I don't know how long I was there for,
but when I looked up, I wasn't alone.

Someone was there,
carrying a bag of money.

My severance pay.

Shit, I lost track of the time.

Hide in the closet. It'll just be a minute.

I stood you up in the caf� yesterday.
I'm sorry.

Look, now is not a good time.

Your payment for services rendered.

Yesterday I wanted to tell you
that you could keep your money.

But things are different now.

Indeed, they are.

Hi, Mom!

Your father just wanted to...

borrow some money from me.

He wanted me to lend him
quite a lot of money.

So I thought I would use this opportunity...

- to try to buy his silence.
- His silence?

He wanted to see you.

I thought that he wanted
to take you away from me...

to ruin my life a second time.

But you told me that Bob didn't have a son.

I went to Bob's apartment four nights ago.

With a large sum of money
that would allow me to keep him quiet.

At least until I could find a better solution.

Little did I expect
to find the solution there...

at my feet.

I took him out for a drink.

Him, me, and my bag full of money.

Given the state he was in,
I could have had him for less...

but he moved me.

That blubbering wreck was me,
20 years ago.

So I doubled the amount.

When I first asked you
if Bob had a son, you said...

No. He has no son.

- For me it was the truth.
- Not for me.

Not for me, either.

My children...

Oh, please forgive me.

Please forgive me.

Thank you.

THE TWO CONSTANCES
CAFE - BRASSERIE - BAR

Excuse me, madam. Keep still.

What's going on?

It will be fine.

- Hold her still.
- You can't do this!

You're hurting me!

I'm calling my lawyer.

"Let's go home," he said.

I'll make your night like no night has been...

or will be again.

Linda!

What have we here?

A little family reunion.

So where is the picnic basket?

Is this it?

Mrs. Beaumont,
I'm afraid you're under arrest...

for having ordered the murder
of your ex-husband.

And you're under arrest
for having killed him.

She has nothing to do with this.

I have to admit that, at first...

we thought it was
a simple crime of passion...

badly disguised as a robbery.

But why would she walk around...

with around 500,000 francs, in cash?

Taxi fare?

She's a friend. She's lending me this money.

Nice friend.

So, Mrs. Beaumont,
in your statement, you declare...

that you hadn't talked to your husband
for years...

but the evening of the crime...

you called him from your apartment.

So thank you very much
because it was a help for us.

- I never called him. Never.
- It was me.

It was me who called him.

And I was at his place
the night he was killed.

I was hiding in the closet. I saw everything.

My father gave me this watch...

and he put it in this envelope.

- Okay I start at the beginning.
- Sure.

- I was watching TV in the bedroom.
- Okay.

So, what were you watching?

A Brian De Palma movie, Dressed to Kill.

De Palma's the best.

Someone rang the bell, Dad let him in.

They got into a fight in the living room.

And when they came closer,
I hid in the closet.

- I saw everything.
- Tell us what you saw. Go on.

It was dark.

And so?

There was a woman.

At first, I couldn't see her
because she had her back to me.

When she turned around,
I could see her better.

She had big, black sunglasses.

She looked like a real psycho.

Something from a horror movie.
Oh, my God.

She was saying:

"You're a scumbag...

"a monster from hell."

If you don't learn to curb your narcissism...

I'm just going to have to do it for you.

Before he died,
my father looked up at me and said:

Dr. Rey.

Look for the woman.

It wasn't him.

Mr. Beaumont, would you swear to this
in the court of law?

- Sure.
- Okay.

I want to see you all in the precinct...

first thing Monday morning, okay?

So long, folks.

I don't even know your name.

"I know this stranger's name.

"His name is Love."

It will be with her and no one else.

She's got the makings of a star,
do you hear me?

I've never been wrong about that,
so end of discussion. Period.

Everything's going to turn out fine.

The police can't prove a thing.

It's our story against theirs, and ours
is infinitely better, according to Claude.

She wants to direct a show
in which I tell all of you...

the vomiting, dubbing, Vanessa Redgrave.
At last I'm cured!

I'm going back to the stage again.
My own one-woman show.

I must have been pretty unbearable.

Three times a week for the last 20 years.

I'm going to miss you.

Thank you, Dr. Rey.

When I need to talk to someone,
maybe I'll come back and see you.

Don't worry, you don't have to answer me.
Just joking.

So, Monday, 4:00, as usual. Okay?

You're all acting
like we're going to a funeral.

Come on, smile!

Come on, just a little. Look!

There's a light at the end of the tunnel.