All language subtitles for In the Sub for Love (A Toute Allure) 2024-el

IN THE SUB FOR LOVE

We're expecting turbulence.

Fasten your seatbelts
and stow your tray tables.

Your tray table, please.

Your seatbelt, sir.

Despite this patch of turbulence,

we shall begin our descent.

You'll be glad to know
our flight is the last to be landing

for a few days.

Ok, everyone,

raise your hands in the air

for the photo.

Want the temperature?
No.

The whole crew

hope you enjoyed
your flight with us today.

We hope to see you again soon.
Ok, everyone,

stay seated till the ride ends.

Evening, nice weather outside.

Cabin crew, get to work!

We're on it.
Don't worry, it's our job.

You have better to do.

We'll share the workload
to pull through.

It's an urgent situation, I understand.

And now...

I'm going to need

a large salad bowl.

Get me some lemons!

- Debrief, captain.
- At ease.

We must leave sooner than planned.

Action stations for all.

We embark and go, if we can embark.

Sir, the weather...

The cyclone will last
three days at least.

It'll be total chaos here afterwards.

I've seen it before.

Cuba, '82.

Never mind,

but it can block you two weeks.

Not that suitcase, Guivarch!

I won't watch it rain.

We cast off. It may be rocky at first.
So what?

If water's not your thing,

try the army.

- He could ease off.
- Too proud.

Marianne...

Good evening.
Just one, we're pressed for time.

Serious people...

Cheers.

What's your airline?

- The navy.
- Merchant.

Stuck here too?

It could last two weeks.
I've seen it before.

- Cuba, '82?
- Miami, three years ago.

Never mind, it's not as if
we have families waiting.

Fred has. One sneeze,
knocks his wife up.

- Too bad.
- That's how it is.

Family, marriage...
But what of fidelity?

- Never tempted?
- Rarely.

A very male crew.

- Stopovers?
- Rare too.

- You'll be away long?
- 70 days.

Among men then?

Frank camaraderie.

It's not the Love Boat.

Time for us to go.

No regrets.
Fred can fuck barely once a month.

Once a month isn't much.

Chronobiology says a man over 40...

His wife's into that.

It upsets the yin.
Or the yang maybe...

I forget.
But tantric orgasms have no limit.

I'm not there yet.

Lack of training.

70 days must pass no problem.

Unlike women,
we control our impulses.

I couldn't. Or have kids.

We move every 48 hours.

No relationships?

Apart from Priscilla.
But she slept with

a traffic controller.

He did a Ryanair hostess.

A jerk of a traffic controller.

We said no low-cost,
but he breaks rules.

True, the rules.

A real hotbed of STDs.

Not true.

Safe sex, no kids.
The only rule.

A Prince Charming.

Your type.

Coming?

I don't know you, ma'am.

You must be mistaken...

Shut up, or I can't do it.

- Can't we talk first?
- No, no talking.

Marianne, Benazech's waiting.

Bye.

Shit.

To act like a guy,
you need to fuck before fleeing.

You were too slow, pal.

That's an unusual complaint.

A quick kiss?

No, I forgot. You're not romantic.

Bye.

You scared the navy off.

Not at all.

Turn off the engine.

Turn off the engine!

It's a security zone!

You cannot enter.

See, Tardivel, now we're talking.

Outta my way
or I'll have your guts for garters!

45 knots at sea. 3-metre trough.

Gangway!

Ok, close all hatches.

Captain in control!

Close all hatches.
Check airtightness.

Alpha section sealed and locked.

Charlie section sealed and locked.

Forward 1.

Forward 1, set.

- Forward 1 set.
- Good.

Forward 3.

Heading 265.

Forward 3 set. Heading 265.

- Forward 3 set.
- Good.

Set speed to 10 knots.

10 knots.

Prepare to dive. Lower antenna.

Antenna down.

All externals down.

If we dive, we'll hit the bottom.

No, I did the chart of the harbour.
Back in '86.

Or '87.

A call from the cockpit!

We're nearing the reef!

Forward 6.
10 degrees to starboard.

Forward 6, heading 275.

- Forward 6 set.
- Good.

Set speed to 16 knots.

Depth?

152 metres under keel.

55 metres. Pitch minus 5.

Alert! Diving to 55 metres.

Pitch minus 5.

- Pitch minus 5.
- Good.

Troadec, I want a reading
every 10 metres.

120 metres, it's shallower.

We're at 55 metres.

Check airtightness.

- 96 metres under keel.
- Airtight at 55 metres.

79 metres, we'll hit.

Spare me your opinion!

45 metres.

33 metres.

Depth, Troadec?

327 metres under keel, sir.

Heading 231. Pitch zero.

Pitch zero. Heading 231.

- Pitch zero.
- Tardivel.

- Sir.
- Second in control.

I shall write in my log
that we left

without a hitch.

Problem in Delta section.

Your watch, lieutenant, sort it.

Get off me!

Thank God!

Give this back to Marianne.

I'll head back to the bar.

Help me up!

Depth dizziness.

- We're not at 100 metres.
- Sickbay.

- We alert the medic?
- No way.

80 metres. Pitch minus 5.

- Debrief.
- Faulty wiring. Sorted.

Still too choppy.
We'll head lower.

- Thanks.
- Welcome.

We're at 80 metres.

Set speed to 15 knots.

Thank your pal Marco.
He brought it back.

- 15 knots.
- In person.

I had stories for my crew,
but this beats them all.

I keep telling people
my job isn't dull, but I see

they pity me.

They all think
they have more fun than me.

With the storm, he stays

until it's over.

Benazech will go mad.

- Who?
- He mustn't find out.

- He's not the romantic type.
- Call this romantic?

I brought your pendant...

You're a stowaway
on a tactical submarine.

So, two options.
Are you a spy?

I wish.

If you were, this'd be brilliant,
but it isn't.

And it's not romantic.

A three-day cyclone.

After, we can surface
and find a solution.

Discreetly.

Three days, you can't be serious.

- As chief steward, I'll be missed.
- Clearly.

Just turn back and drop me off.

Marco,

you heard "tactical submarine"?

The galley.
Gueguen is understaffed.

We'll say he's a new hire.
It'll work.

This is crazy.
I want a lawyer.

I'll pass your request on.
But be discreet for now.

Good, virile silence.
Just a few grunts.

Treat it as a holiday.

I never go on holiday.

It's karmic retribution.

I'll do the talking with Gueguen, ok?

Kermorvan finally agreed,
after the budget cutbacks.

With Le Floch in port,
his crew was free,

causing other problems.
You know military bureaucracy.

Thelliez was against, Le Corre for,

but, as we left earlier,

Nedelec confirmed just before.
So meet Marco.

Get to work for the first sitting.

Alright.

- I'll leave you to it.
- Fred...

See you shortly.

I'll leave you.

So?

So, I'm warning you,

any shirking, I'll kick your ass.

Got that?

Got it, I always learnt
"Idle steward, fired steward."

We're doing ratatouille.

Ratatouille...

- Mariani.
- Le Goff.

Is your mobile working?

Tiny pieces of aubergines.

Big pieces, show some dignity.

Stop peeling. Without skin,
courgettes turn to mush.

Any garlic? We need a lot.

Your name again?

- Marco Mariani.
- Ex-army?

No, but it's a pretty common name.

The army tests weapons
that turn guys into total morons.

Makes sense, but no.

Here to spy on me?

I heard rumours
about health monitoring on subs.

Hygiene, my ass!

I'll tell you right now,

I sniff out rats.

Ratatouille is just better
made a day ahead so...

Keep an eye on him.

Large pieces, skin on.

It's all under control.

With Gueguen,
any trouble, Marco's lasagna.

- Just looking.
- Clear off.

Frozen raspberries?

For the captain's birthday.
Nothing to peel?

Le Goff's on it. It's under control.

The peppers now. Go!

B10.

Sunk.

That smells good.

- I'll waste you.
- The problem remains.

No problem, I'll waste you.

Like it or not, you rinse rice.

- No, Le Goff!
- It'll be starchy.

Starch is filling.
It's a 70-day tour!

- Let it evaporate.
- It'll stick.

That'll make it good!
Le Goff!

- Rinse the fucking rice.
- Don't you dare.

Chow, chow!

We want it now!

Serve it up.

Well done, Gueguen!

For the chef!

Bravo!

How about a pick-me-up?

The good bottles are in the chalet.

The chalet...

Four generations of sailors
before me.

Five before him.

And he chose the army,
their shit-coloured uniforms

and noisy trucks.

All to end up a squaddie in Islamabad.

I don't get it.

- And your daughters?
- First three married.

To a pharmacist, I hear.

To a free software developer.

Kind of vague.

The third works online.

She buys stuff and talks about it.

My wife says she has 2 million viewers.

Typical female delusions.

2 million, frankly...

You're quite a diver too,
Le Guenedal.

Three kids, sir.

A good start.

- Any vocations?
- Nothing much, they're young.

Watch out for TV.

Rambo, Van Damme and that lot
turned my kid's head.

You fight underwater,

and rather than read Conrad,

he watches guys blowing up
the Third World.

That'd turn anyone's head.

The Hunt for Red October
and Crimson Tide saved me.

I had a film-buff uncle.

A generation earlier,
he'd have set sail at 14.

Upbringing is a no-go zone

since women took over.

Right, Tardivel?

We can claim a few victories, sir.

Bravo.
A sailor father maybe?

- An accountant, sir.
- Very useful.

From where in Brittany?

Nantes, sir.

She holidays in Plougastel

and lives in Brest since graduation.

Right.

Most of my wife's family
lives in Laval.

She visits when I'm away.
It's never been a problem.

Enjoy your meal.

Sweet Jesus!

Has Gueguen finally opened
a cookbook?

His swan song, maybe.

Unless he sneaked an island lass
on board

to put her to work.

We have to drown stowaways.

That'd be a pity.

Gueguen's loves...

I recall our supply stops in Taiwan.

Taiwan, sir?

It wasn't totally official.

I lost so many men in the teahouses.

That man you're eyeing
may be married.

God preserve me.

Goodness! At your age.

To my mother's despair.

The poor woman. How come?

I resist everything but temptation.

To our sweethearts and wives.

May they never meet.

Anyone bothered by smoking
can file a report.

I'll pass it on myself.

For the others,

my humidor is at your disposal.

You may go, gentlemen.

When you give orders,
you remind me of my mother.

Happy memories, sir?

Not really.

But memories are our landscape here.

Fred, wait!

Great internship,
but I must call my airline.

It's not going to be that easy.

- One call.
- You know the word "classified".

From TV, say?

I did the "hijacker-terrorist" course.

- Hi, Loïc.
- Hi, Marco.

- A little nightcap?
- It's midday.

How could I know?

Ok, just a drop then.

You can show me around this place.

Know there are guys
in Roswell suits back there?

- Near the nuclear reactor?
- Yeah.

A nuclear reactor... I like it!

Erwan?

Fred sent me.

Le Guenedal or something.

You're the comms guy?

Fascinating.

I have a problem.

Want a drop?

Ok, guys, you're clean.

May we rinse?

Move it.

What's this?

You taking the piss?

From the comms officer to his family.

He loves his wife, kids and cat.

Then, "PS, Call Priscilla

on 06 39 98...
to say Marco has been called away.

Pass on his apologies to the airline."

Seriously?

I had to call, I have a job.

Imagine if Benazech
had intercepted that message.

He can't throw me out.

Don't count on it.

You read the crew's mail?

Christ, ET phone home!
An atomic submarine is atomic.

Of course I read it.

That's sick. It could be private.

Think there's privacy on a sub?

Ok, spare me, I get it.
It's all about you!

Your sub,
your problem with the captain...

I count for nothing.

Remember, you jumped on me.

I was about to reconcile with Priscilla.

It's true! She acts proud,
but we always make up.

Know why?
Because we respect each other.

But I'm not explaining respect
to someone

who reads others' mail!

Respect? You sleep
with half the girls you meet.

- Two-thirds.
- And Priscilla?

A new strain of herpes.

That's really sick.

So what else is it?

Priscilla and I
have a chemical attraction.

Chemical, my ass.
An air hostess?

If uniforms turn you on, admit it.

Lieutenant Tardivel to control.

Lieutenant Tardivel to control.

Run to Daddy.

Asshole.

The asshole doesn't know where to sleep.

Yes?

The guy's as thick as shit.

Who?

Marco Mariathing!
He keeps screwing up.

The way he served in the mess.
Havoc!

With him,
everything goes off the tracks.

There's no framework!

A quick drink

and a toast. It's not a wedding!

He's doing ok.

Why did I go and jump on him?

I saw he was trouble.

You saw too but didn't stop me!

You didn't do a thing
and let me screw up!

It's always the same.

I get all the shit.

The tub's afloat thanks to me.

I clean up and none of you care!

Not one report is done right!

Benazech's the worst
with his dumb stories and medals!

Without me here,
we'd have attacked Russia by now.

"Oops, wrong button!
Nice fireworks!"

Know what? It's over. I'm done!

Mum's had enough.
I'm off to bed. See you!

And find him a bunk.

Urgent call.
All officers to the mess!

Urgent call.

All officers to the mess!

I've seen some useless boatswains,

but never a stowaway.

See if a Marco Mariani
was hired for the galley

or anywhere.

Who landed me with these idiots?

We take on temps now?

He came half-price?

You're not made for subs
but for oil tankers!

- Sir...
- Is his name there?

It isn't.

You bet it isn't.

I shouldn't have to tell her.

- I'll face my responsibilities.
- Good!

You can resign,
so I won't have to demote you.

Sir, such a decision
requires a court martial.

We'll have a court martial
if you're a stickler for procedure.

You'll need to explain
your role in all this too.

Hey, time out!

Take deep breaths.

Look beyond the seat in front.

Focus on a positive image.

Breathe in... Breathe out...

In... Out...

One, two, relax...

In the storm, I saw an open door.
I'm curious, I came in.

- Why?
- Why not?

Through the nose.

Why do you live underwater
and miss your kids growing?

Your son's in the army, ok.

But did you see
your daughters' first steps?

No.

Breathe in together.

No one knows what you do.

Circles underwater
hoping you won't fire those missiles.

For a shit salary.

For a family who forgets you.

For a fading sex life!

You're in no position
to question my choices.

Ease the neck, relax the arms...

I had some time off.

I saw a chance for a one-off cruise,

so I dived in.

And I don't regret it.

Because you're a great group of guys.

I'm no fan of the armed forces,

but if you're democracy's defenders

then I say fine.

I'm with you. I'll testify for you.

Right...

Tardivel...

I got carried away publicly,
so publicly I apologise.

- Apology accepted.
- The energy's circulating.

You likewise, Le Guenedal.

- Sir.
- That's good, let it all out.

I admit we're not the ones
to judge this matter.

Counter-espionage will.

Seriously?

You bet. Lock him up.

You ok?

I'm ok.

Coffee?

I'd love some.

- What time is it?
- 10:42.

- Need anything?
- I'm fine.

Maybe a little pillow.

You ok?

Need anything?

I'm fine.

- You ok?
- On top form.

And Marianne?

You know...

Yeah...

Perfect.

I wanted to say...

Thanks.

You were great.

I'm often great.

- They'll be waiting for me.
- I reckon.

I'd love a pillow.

I'm fine.
I don't need anything.

- Great.
- Come in.

Come here.

I don't have much time.
I just came to see how you were.

I'm delightfully comfortable.

A pillow and I'd be on cloud 9.

Good to hear.

Thank you...

for not snitching
and then for stepping in.

I'm often all bravado,
but resigning...

You all got in a tizzy...

- For me, it was over.
- Not at all.

We have at least one panic attack
per long haul.

When a rapper blows his top,
you need intellect.

What's so funny?

It's just...

to hear you talk about intellect...

Because you think I'm stupid...

No.

No!

You never worry.

It's no big deal though...

It's not like we're at war.

Are we?

Classified information?

Well, if it's classified...

I caught a touch of sun

A touch of love
A touch of romance

I don't how
I'll retrace my steps

You're pretty, I confess

Sleepless nights,
I take trips

Aboard already wrecked ships

Naked, you're draped in satin

I can't sleep
Tomorrow, I imagine

But you aren't here

And if I'm dreaming, too bad

When you disappear

I'm sleepless, so sad

But you aren't here

I hope you understand

I want to peer out my window

And see you on the sand

I put your photos in my songs

Your sails in my home

I wanted to get away, I can't

This life,
I don't want

A hundred years gone by,
I don't realise

You're always on my mind

Don't want to dream,
I want you here

To make me fly, to make me feel

But you aren't here

And if I'm dreaming, too bad

When you disappear

I'm sleepless, so sad

But you aren't here

I hope you understand

I want to peer out my window

And see you on the sand

Careful going up.

It's beautiful.

Yes, it is.

No one's coming for me.

You're looking in the wrong place.

You guys!

I got my money's worth!

Copy that.

Lift off.

Stop kidding us, Mariani.

You have to believe me!

You don't hop on a sub to sightsee.

Try 20 years of cabin crew!
That's 9 years in the air.

Hard ground is exotic to me.

Planes and hotels. That's all!

Imagine the seabed!

You can't see it from inside a sub.

Yes, but I only realised that
once on board.

In ads, the army's
all travel and friends.

- It's no holiday.
- I never holiday.

So why were you there?

As I told you,

there was a hurricane.
I saw a light.

Let's start again.

Name, age, address, occupation.

Marc Antoine Mariani, 38,
12 Rue Concordet,

13016 Marseille, chief steward.

I'd have loved to be a secret agent.

My school's careers advisor screwed up.

Crushed my dreams.
Set out to be a fighter pilot,

ended up a steward.
Believe me.

We do, but we also think
you're taking the piss.

- If you're not CIA.
- Or Mossad...

- Or the KGB.
- What were you up to?

- Simple question.
- Basic.

- Simple answer.
- Basic.

Even a stupid answer.
It doesn't matter.

I followed a crew member.

We met in a bar, drank a bit.

Cocktails are my thing.

Things took a turn.
We ended up in a back room, it was dark.

It was both...

rough and gentle.

I never imagined
what happened next.

Sorry, the army isn't my thing,
even if...

the uniform...

A crew mate turned up,
they had to go. I saw the pendant...

- The pendant?
- I'm not making this up.

When I saw it,
I had to give it back.

I thought it would be romantic...

Romantic, isn't it?

I was starting to doubt.

I shouldn't have boarded.
But at the time, it seemed...

the obvious thing to do.

I didn't want us to part like that.

I'm not used to feeling like that.

It's silly...

So, when this crew member saw you...

It wasn't all smiles.

Some things don't slide in the Navy.
It's crazy.

They need to loosen up.

I don't mind the fact,
taken out of context,

that the "stowaway" thing went too far.

But parting ways like that,

without a proper goodbye,

without saying it was worth it,
that it wasn't wrong,

and that no one got hurt...

Let's get to the point.

Down to basics.

As a child,

you dreamt of the seabed.

The weather was awful.

And you saw a bright light and...

And whoosh.

And whoosh.

And whoosh?

Ok, that's all I need.

Hold on a second.

The submarine?
How do I find it now?

That's classified information, pal.

Fuck classified information!

There's more to life
than launching missiles!

Did you hear a word I said?
I'm heartbroken!

We've arrived on time, Gueguen.

Check supplies,
so departure's the same.

It's Christmas Eve, Lieutenant.
Dinner may be served ashore.

Make the celebration swift.

I'm a pirate, I don't care for glory

By fate, to hell with death

On the ocean, I plant my victory

And drink my wine from a golden cup

To live by pleasure is my only hope

The only happiness I have conquered

Was on the waves I spent my childhood

It's on the waves a pirate must die

Gentlemen, as you know,
I'm not one for emotion...

But it's Christmas.

Since we're on dry land
this evening,

let me cut hierarchical ties,

and call you my friends.

Our duties dictate
that we be without our families

on the day that all families gather.

If families get together tonight,

by what else can we call our crew?

A submarine is the home
in which we all live,

and if need be, a tomb

where we shall rest.

This sense of equality binds us.

A submarine is a battlefield
that can't be abandoned.

It's so unique,
we can only be understood

by our fellow submariners.

It's a commonality
that cannot be shared.

It's a myth for our children.

A curse for our wives.

They shouldn't whinge.
They know where we are.

The seabed is merely a place of passage.

There's no need to fear landmines,

bullets, or STDs.

We're immune to the woes
that befall armies.

The price is high.

But we pay it gladly.

My friends,

to the only men we can count on.

To ourselves.

To ourselves.

To ourselves.

...and then like this.

I don't understand you...

Fred.

He's never seen a carrot!

Yes, I know your knife's sharp!

Stop drinking! You'll get drunk.

How did you get here?

Crazy how few people apply to work here.

Unemployment rates are insane,

and people refuse work

in a place that's kind of nice.
Unbelievable!

You will dice the meat,
but get some air first.

To calm yourself down.
Go head.

I'm not here, ok?

I knew it!

You came to the Arctic to piss us off.

How nice to see you.

All ok on board?

All is fine, but after you left...

there was something of a void.

Happy to hear it.

We think the North Sea's vast,
but it was like CDG airport.

The radar went mad.

Submarines on top of each other.
Russkies, Brits,

Yanks making a racket as usual.

Chances of a crash were sky high!

And amidst all this chaos...

a pod of whales...

quietly swimming by.

The thighs won't be cooked!

Marco, let me help you.

I know. He's infuriating.

72°C, serve it.

You look ill.
What did you feed them?

- Give it a rest.
- Pasta.

Arrabbiata, pesto...

You're an animal.
Come on.

Don't go empty-handed.
I'm not here!

...water on the lower decks!

The Geiger sputtered,

conversation stopped.

Perfect timing!
The creaking was the only way

of knowing how deep we were.

Then we hit the sand.

At a depth of 400 metres.

Just like that.

- It's Christmassy.
- More Snow White-y.

There's still snow.

So it's Christmassy.

You two ganging up on me?

- Men only!
- Want my foot up your ass?

Sorry, Lieutenant.

The logs are ready.

Yes. Come on, help me.

So, yes...

I made arrangements to see you.
I told myself...

once home, you'd go out to a bar...

and set your eyes
on the first man you'd see.

I realised I didn't quite
like that idea.

- Didn't like it?
- Yes.

I do what I want, Marco.

Yes, but I'd rather you didn't...

Should I mention Priscilla?

- Something else?
- Is she ill?

Her air traffic controller
called her back.

She's happy. I'm peeved.

Alright.

I'm just a rebound then?

No...

We're off to a bad start.

I'm here, I prepared dinner.

I crossed the globe to be with you.

I wasn't too hard to find?

Quite hard actually.

Take a few planes?

Small ones, old crates that take off
but may never land.

- Almost died?
- Yes.

Then a boat with guys
who didn't speak English or French...

- Sailors?
- Yes, them!

Then snowmobiles!

Wow!

You must've loved that.

You're there, you speed along,
no one to stop you!

White ahead, white behind.

No one needs a sick bag,
a customs form, a whisky.

You go for it!

Look, a seal!

Great trip!

A total blast!

If it was such a blast,
why say it's for me?

You hate routine.
So you're happy?

I'm happy you're here too.

Yes, too! But what makes me happy
doesn't count.

Am I happy to see you now,
rather than in Brest?

You didn't even wonder.

Of course I did...

This was funnier, cooler,
more romantic.

The others are happy.

What I mean is,
my life is taking a turn.

Settle down.

You're always on my mind.

I'm changing.
I'm fed up of smiley girls!

You're not my type!

What's your problem?

We nearly fucked, now church bells?

How did we get to marriage?

That's the point of being a couple!

What couple? What wedding?

A wedding, no way.

- So why mention it?
- It's you!

You're the one on my back.

Following me, stalking me,

suffocating me!

You're not my type either.

I wanted you for the night!
That's it!

That's me!

Guys are usually content with that.
But not you!

I don't want to give you more!

Did you think I'd be happy
you dragged yourself

through the snow to fuck me?

No. I feel forced.

And when I'm forced, I don't want it!

So tough, don't call on me!

I'm not at your disposal.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas to you all.

Merry Christmas, old chap.

Merry Christmas.

Lieutenant?

Yes.

- Tidbit, Tardivel?
- I'm fine, Captain.

A word of advice then.

When you meet someone undaunted
by the demands of our duties...

Right.

Heading 086.

Homeward bound, guys.

- I can see it!
- Really?

- Yes!
- Right there!

It's just there!

Daddy!

You ok, girls?

Distress, discomfort,
confusion and anxiety

can set in permanently,

along with the feeling of being
defective and disused,

as if the menopause
was planned obsolescence.

Spotlight also on...

How are you?

On top form.
Fancy a drink?

Marianne.

- C'mon.
- I just got back.

Party time!

- I have my kids.
- So what?

Since the kids, you're no fun.

You've become
a sort of sofa extension since the kids.

A house cat's what you are.

Soizic's probably happy, but I'm not.

I mean it. You're withering away.

Between your wife, your kids,
your mortgage,

the house, the BBQ, the swing...

Just admit solitude scares you.

Say it and you can stay over.

You're in the Pacific.

- Beneath the Pacific, honey.
- Same thing.

Not exactly.

Still, you travel and I don't,
so I get to choose!

It's too far.

The time change is too much.
The Canaries are easy.

- There's the sea!
- Nothing budget!

Budget? Seen the hotel?

What about Vietnam?

- The coast is amazing.
- What about the distance?

It's closer.

Girls, no jumping!

And it's cheaper.

It's definitely an option!

Honey, the US Army's resorts!

You know how to excite me.

- White sand for miles, honey.
- Stop with the "honey".

Girls, the sofa.

There's other stuff.
Temples, mopeds, hotels...

Fred!

Girls, did you hear Mum?

"Mum", really?

Stop shouting! Shoo! Upstairs.

No, upstairs.

Honestly, Vietnam's great.

Tourism hasn't ruined it.

The mentality there is great.
Even after two wars,

everyone's so chill.

I'd love to go back.

Look, Fred,
I can't deal with it anymore.

I'll take care of it, no problem.

Three months alone,
I dealt with a lot.

I can show you my route.

It was top notch.
The girls will love it!

- Terrific.
- It must've changed.

Thoughts, Soizic?

What are they doing?

I kept the lot, names, addresses.

I'll dig them out.

You could.

Girls, I'll bang your heads together!

You're lucky, I'd love
to see Da Nang, Nha Trang again.

Come along then.

Yes! Sure I will.

I'll plan everything.

Hey, monsters!

A holiday together? In Vietnam?

Yeah!

I know your wife is pissed off...

Breton winter's hell...

You can't say that.

You've forgotten
what being single's like.

- Get a guy.
- It never works out.

Marco was my chance.

I believed in him.

His bewildered face,
your pendant in his hand...

I said, this is it.

Holidays with only my wife and kids.

You're so selfish.

I know.

- I hate you deciding for me.
- I know.

It's too much if I feel forced...

I know that too.

Priscilla?

Our parents aren't here!

Don't take me for a dummy!

Priscilla?

Stop it!

Get lost!

Daddy.

They shouted at us.

We just said we wanted a drink.

- What's all this about?
- Hold on.

- One sec.
- What?

Fred, it's time to board.

Wait. Look.

Look at that.

Honey...

It's just us on holiday.

Just us?

With the kids, but without Marianne.

It's better than nothing.

Close call.
Priscilla's replacement?

You're portside.

...the conditions are excellent.

We will be taking off shortly.

Please take your seats
and fasten your belts.

Cabin crew will proceed with...

To Nantes and back
She showed her crack

Excuse me?

Can I use the toilet?

Wait until the plane starts.

There are children!

Miss, please...

Want to learn the song, kids?

Gentlemen, singing is forbidden.

It's some fun.

We've loads of songs.
Sing with us?

- Come on.
- No, thank you.

Cut it out!

Young man,
you need to buckle up.

You're ugly.
I want the other one.

What about me, Miss?
Will you check my belt?

Miss, can I go now?

- Sorry?
- To the toilet. It's urgent.

I don't get why they are so entitled...

What you're suggesting isn't great.

We're suggesting something!

In any other country,
they'd pull their finger out.

But this is France.

Popular Front, human rights,
paid holidays.

Even taxes at a pinch,
in principle...

The money it costs,
you have no idea.

There's always economy.

Don't be ridiculous.

With tight asses like that
in economy...

Christine!

- Can't say anything anymore.
- This is a long haul!

- All ok?
- The newbie won't take any shit.

- Newbie?
- Priscilla's remplacement.

Not smiley, but she's tough!

Next!

What are you doing?

I'm watching them.

No, Marianne. Here?

Listen...

I thought long and hard.

Shallow jerks may be my thing.

I haven't got much holiday.

We could fuck,
without splitting up...

Head down!

Hold on, I'm sorry.

I'm confused.

You're saying we could be...

- A couple?
- No forcing...

My work makes it complicated.

Because my job...

If you're not here,
the plane still takes off, right?

Off to a bad start.

Excuse me, Miss?

I really need the toilet.

Wait for your friend!

Go to the rear.

Hold it in!

You don't do declarations?

Not really.

It's important you put
your feelings into words.

Last time, I was a little offended.

Offended by what?

You showed up as a fait accompli,
at my work!

I can't say what I do,
but I'm high up.

And who do I see? Sir.

Mouth agape,
waiting for me to pounce.

Imagine your missus
in the changing room after a match?

No, don't put this on me!
I used all my holiday,

I never take holidays!

Unpaid leave,
to cook in the backend of nowhere.

So Madam wasn't alone at Christmas.

But I wasn't alone.

You don't get
that I can be happy at work!

- You should've waited.
- For you to call?

When I keep trying
to make this work!

Who pounced?

While you drooled over Priscilla!

For the last time,
Priscilla is a friend!

A close friend.

And your 90 male colleagues?

Who you shower with?

Take me for the loser in love.

Here I am! For you.
I bend over backwards too.

I'm also ruining my holidays.

But I can't say things like,
"I think of you all the time."

Doesn't mean I don't feel it.

I get tongue tied.

But I feel it,
especially when you're not there!

Arguing's better
than being without you.

Anyway, what's the point?

We won't kiss here.

I mean, I couldn't. It'd be so...

inhibiting.

- How many weeks off?
- Two.

We'll make do.

Come on, Le Guenedal.
They'll be there in 3 months.

Tell me, Le Guenedal.

I have a terrible suspicion.

Is Tardivel going to be late?

Not like her, Captain.

Two options then.

Either my watch is fast or...

As we're all here...

Gentlemen.

Off they go again.

Tell me about it.

Three months.

Three months without the stopovers.

Subtitles by
Ian Burley & Sophia Till

Subtitling TITRAFILM