All language subtitles for En.therapie.S01E01.1080p.BluRay.DD+5.1.x264-SbR_track4_[eng]

I don’t think I can lie down today.

IN THERAPY

ARIANE – MONDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2015, 9 A.M.

I’m sorry.

I feel bad about letting myself go.

I can’t control myself.

And now I’ve started,
I don’t know if I can stop.

It’s okay, you can let yourself go,
you have some leeway.

Whatever you feel is okay here.

I’ve told you that often enough.

There comes a moment
when you pass a milestone,

when you give yourself permission.

I thought it’d do me good to cry.

And?

It’s no relief at all.
In fact, it’s exhausting.

To think I spent two hours...

two hours freezing outside,
waiting for this moment.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cold.

It’s stupid.

I watched the minutes ticking by
on my phone,

thinking of the panicking people
running around this neighborhood,

looking for somewhere to take shelter...

But all the doors were locked
with their fucking codes!

Were you outside
the night of the attacks?

I was in bed Friday.

With Cédric.

Each staring at our screens.

He was watching the football,
I was on season 3 of House of Cards.

It was still an evening...

that was full
of lively and surprising chat.

Then we reached the evening’s pinnacle.

I was close to falling asleep,

and I heard, “Oh, fuck!”

I sat up.

He was all pale.

He’d put the news on.
That’s how I heard about Le Bataclan.

Then the phone started ringing.

While I got dressed, I must have had
20 worried calls and text messages.

I rushed to the hospital.

I knew they’d need me.

What happened then?

Have you ever been to ER?

It’s always bedlam.

You don’t know where to look,
everyone’s claiming your attention.

But this was...

it was really...

there was a deep silence.

There were the wounded,
stretchers, blood everywhere,

nurses I didn’t know,

but it was like everyone knew
what they had to do.

No one was complaining.

Even the wounded
weren’t saying anything.

It was weird.

It was like a ballet,

at the opera house.

Then I went into theater
to operate for the next 48 hours,

with no sleep.

You end up
going into a sort of trance.

You can’t stop.

It was like one very long night,

fighting death.

Anyway, I did my job.

Your job?

Is that how you define what you did?

What would you say I did?

My heroic duty?

You made a link earlier

between people stuck outside
on 13th November

and you outside here this morning.

Your interpretations are a pain.

There’s no link
to what happened that night.

This won’t help.

It’s pointless.

I knew on my way here,
I told myself I shouldn’t come.

I’m in no fit state.

I’d rather continue this face-to-face.

I’m cold, I can’t get warm.

Tell me, face-to-face,
what happened last night.

What happened last night
had nothing to do with the attacks.

I’ve messed up my life.

I left Cédric.

Last night,
after operating for 48 hours, I...

I got home exhausted,
as you can imagine.

But I couldn’t sleep.

Then we had a horrible argument.

Screaming, shouting... a huge fight.

So I left his place,

it was two in the morning,
I didn’t know where to go...

I ended up at the hospital.

I don’t feel well.

I’m going to puke.

I’ll puke all over your worn carpet.

That’s okay. Carry on.

How is it okay?

I’ve wanted to change it for ages.

Carry on, I’m listening.

Puke stinks, it’s disgusting.

I don’t want to puke
in front of you.

People don’t chuck up
in front of their shrink.

In front of their shrink
or in front of me?

In front of you.

In front of me doesn’t matter.

That’s what I’m here for,
as a shrink.

You waited in the cold
for two hours,

you come in here, still in shock
from what you’ve been through,

you cry for the first time
since you started psychoanalysis...

So, today, maybe you want to...
not “chuck up”,

but you want to show me
a different part of yourself.

So go ahead.

You came here to tell me something,
I’m listening.

I got caught in a trap.

Cédric gave me an ultimatum.

He wants to marry me.

“Take it or leave it.”

Either we form an old-style household,
or we split up.

He’s given me a day or two

to decide if we move
into his place or mine or...

if we get a new flat,
because he’s thinking big.

Or we split up.

I don’t know why he always picks
the worst moment to do my head in.

He really beat
the gloom record this time.

It’s horrible.

I got out of the shower,
poured a glass of red,

to try and chill out...

Then he’s there, with no warning,
his eyes all teary,

and he comes out with,
“Ariane, this can’t go on.

“We’ve been together for two years,
one night at yours, one night here.

“I can’t live like this any more.

“We have to decide,
after what’s just happened.

“Marry me.

“I can’t run with the hare
and hunt with the hounds.”

That’s exactly what he said,
the bloody idiot!

“Who’s the hare?” I said.

I don’t know why I said that,
just trying to keep things light,

but he started crying.

I’ve never seen him like that.

Do you realize?

After a major trauma,
people are terrified.

They need something to hold on to.

The variety of human reactions
to such an event can be surprising.

Yours too, perhaps.

What made you angry?

Don’t you think that was inappropriate,

trying to manipulate me like that?

Did he think I was going
to console him like a baby?

I thought of all those wounded.
If you’d seen them...

they way they bore it.

They were even refusing painkillers,
in case others needed them.

I went absolutely ballistic.

I can’t remember
what I said to him, but...

I dressed quickly and got out of there,

slamming the door.

Why did you say
you’ve messed up your life?

Losing my temper wasn’t the problem.

You don’t know me, actually.

You have an idea
of the person before you, but...

yesterday I really messed up.

I completely went off the rails.

I went back to operate
for another two hours.

That was my last operation.

I don’t know how I coped.

It was a trapezist
who’d been at Le Carillon.

A bullet through his wrist.

It really got to me, I wanted to cry,
but I pulled myself together.

Then I had to go and lie down.

When I left the operating theater,
the corridors were empty.

It was deserted, almost like a...

a normal night on call.

A male nurse I didn’t know
was in the lift.

He must have been backup
from another hospital.

He wasn’t bad.

He had three-day stubble
and a crew cut.

A bit like Daniel Craig.

And I could feel him sizing me up.

Then he said...

“Sadness suits you.”

What a nerve!

Is that your fucking pickup line, dude?
“Sadness suits you.”

Do you agree with him,
does sadness suit me?

I don’t think sadness suits anyone.

I wanted him.

Don’t ask me why. Well, I know why.
You know what they say about surgeons?

After a long and difficult operation,

they always need to empty their...
Well, I won’t spell it out.

In the hospital we call it
“the fuck after the scalpel”.

Freud more prosaically calls it
“the life instinct”.

The thought passed through my mind.

But only for a couple of seconds,
no longer.

Long enough for him to catch it, though.

And we went into a consultation room
on the first floor.

Oh, what the hell!

I had to do it at least once more
before I get bogged down with Cédric.

You mean you did it for yourself?

Not to get your revenge
on Cédric for his ultimatum?

Anyway, we were getting pretty excited.

He pushed me up against the desk,
he pulled his trousers down...

I’m shocking you, right?

No.

Is it exciting you?

Carry on.

And there I was, faced with this...

this enormous...

And it was enormous!

I felt like I was fifteen years old.

I grabbed hold of it, it was...

it was hot, springy...

It was as if it was all new to me.

He turned me around at the desk,

lifted up my white coat
which still stank of theater,

pushed my trousers and panties
down around my ankles,

and pulled a condom out of his pocket.

That’s when I realized
this wasn’t the first time.

He was prepared.

And I realized
I couldn’t go through with it.

I no longer wanted to.

He was rubbing against me,
ready to get down to it.

But I... couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t do that to Cédric.

So I...

slammed my legs together.

Full stop.

Quite an experience!

Yeah, but wait a minute,
it’s not finished yet.

Because this guy didn’t see it
from the same viewpoint at all.

He wouldn’t give up, he said,
“Look at the state you’ve got me in!”

With it still standing to attention.

He said, “Can’t you jerk me off?”

Unbelievable!

But I was in a bad way.

And that’s when I thought of you.

Of me?

How do you mean?

I saw myself with you.

I saw myself coming here,

sitting on the couch
and telling you stuff, like now.

And?

I was sure you’d be disgusted.

I was convinced
you wouldn’t put up with that.

What if that was your goal?
To disgust me?

The reason you hurried here, even though
it meant waiting in the cold?

Could it be why you pushed him off,
left the hospital,

and rushed to my office?

All that because you were
in a hurry to disgust me?

I didn’t push him off.

He got his little reward.

Don’t ask me why I did that.

Because you don’t know
or because you don’t want to tell me?

Shit, I didn’t wash my hands.

I feel sick,
I’ll be right back.

Better?

I’m okay, thanks.

You can change your toilet rug now.

I’m sorry.

I want to go back a little.

Despite last night’s misadventure,
I don’t want to lose sight of Cédric.

I don’t think he deserves
that much scrutiny.

- He shouldn’t put me in that position.
- What position?

That of having to choose.

Of having to bear the responsibility
for what’ll happen to us.

I think it’s a bit facile
to put his reaction down to the attacks.

It’s not just that. The attacks,
plus knowing you were on the front line,

and not hearing from you for 48 hours

must have affected his inhibitions.

It blew them away.

What he wanted to say
came out unfiltered,

clumsily
and at the worst possible moment.

No, I’ll tell you what was on his mind.

Like all guys, he wants me married,
with kids, and stuck at home.

That’s what was on his mind.
I can’t handle that.

I don’t understand.

You said he came out with it
“without warning”,

as you were having a drink.

Yes.

A glass of red wine.

But it was just before,
as I was drying my hair.

He came up to me,
and I could see he looked miserable.

So I said, “What’s the matter?”

That’s when he came out with it,

“One night at yours, one night here...
Commitment...”

Blah blah blah!

I said, “Yes, you’re right.
We have to decide.

“We live together
or we split up.”

So, in the end,

it was you who set the famous ultimatum.

No.

He’s the one who’s fed up
of “one night at yours, one night here”.

Yes, but “one night at yours,
one night here” is a general idea.

Living together or splitting up

is more concrete.
That makes it an ultimatum.

No.

No, not at all.

That’s not the ultimatum, it’s...

You’re saying I’m the one
who set it as a choice?

I didn’t start the conflict.

He jumped on the opportunity
to accuse me of not wanting to commit.

And then gave me a day or two
to think it over.

I said, “Okay, no problem.”

He couldn’t take that, it scared him,
and he started crying.

But he has to accept it.

And you?

What about me?

Doesn’t it scare you?

What?

The possibility of you splitting up.

That’s not the point.

That’s not what’s at stake.

So what’s at stake
in this conflict you triggered?

I didn’t trigger anything at all!

Some act, while others talk.

Maybe Cédric likes
to put problems out there,

but not to make decisions.

Maybe it’s you who can’t bear
the uncertainty of your relationship.

Maybe all Cédric did
was reveal to you

a problem that was tormenting you.

You brought the conflict to flash point.

Not at all.

I’m trying to show you that this crisis
means something else to you.

Over the last few days
you’ve experienced horrible events.

They affect your perception of reality.

I used the word “trauma” earlier.
You understand what I mean.

Ms. Coligny,

maybe this crisis has an external cause.

Why do you think
it has happened now,

at this moment of your existence,

of our existence,
right after those attacks?

It’s not the attacks.

There’s...

someone else.

You mean last night, at the hospital?

That meant nothing at all.

It’s been going on longer.

So why have we never talked
about it here?

It seems to me that we’ve...

talked about it a lot.

Not explicitly, but...

it was obvious.

Don’t tell me you didn’t realize.

Are you pretending?

Didn’t realize what?
I’m afraid I don’t follow you.

To think that I’ve played out
this scene a thousand times.

In fact, I think it’s been
my main brain activity lately.

Tell me what this scene is.

There are many different versions.

I’m listening.

There are two basic scenarios.

In the first, you hold me and say,
“I love you too, Ariane.”

And you add,
“I was waiting for your declaration.”

You tell me you love me
and you call me by my first name.

Then we kiss and then we...

make love.

We make love on the couch.

Or on the armchair.

Or even on the carpet.

Yes, yes, I see.

And the other version?

It’s more or less the same thing, but...

we don’t make love.

That’s the more romantic version.

I have a preference
for the first version.

I don’t know if you realize

the position you’ve put me in,
but it’s...

very awkward.

Especially realizing
that maybe it’s only in my imagination.

You act like nothing’s going on.

Sitting there...

in your chair like the Dalai Lama.

How long have you played out
these scenes? When did it start?

The very first session.

A year ago.

At first I thought that it would stop,

that it was just a stage.

Transference, as you call it.

But it’s only got worse.

It’s become an obsession.

You have become my obsession.

I’m wondering...

These scenes that you’re imagining
are perfectly normal.

Transference, as you said,
is never far from amorous feelings.

Freud said
it might be the only true love.

Well, we’ll let him be responsible
for the things he said.

Could it be possible that these images,

which you invented
at some point in your psychoanalysis...

Could you have repurposed them

to give them
disproportionate importance

because you need them
right here and now?

What do I need?

You’ve been shaken
by a terrible experience

and you need a way out of this crisis.

Absurd.

Of course
that interpretation shocks you.

It’s called resistance.

But think about it. I’m your analyst,
I am the man you cannot have.

There are rules, as you know.

Thanks to these rules,

you can hurry here
to find a way out of this crisis...

There’s no crisis.

It’s all because of you.

Since you really want to know
what happened during that long night,

which lasted for 48 hours..

At one point I was smoking
a cigarette in the car park,

in between two operations...

And all these bodies full of life,

young, torn apart by bullets...
it made no sense.

An hour earlier
they’d been having a drink, and then...

And there I thought of you.

I thought of your street,

the cafés..

I thought
you might have been there.

And if so, you might be dead.

Without me being able to--

without us being able
to tell each other...

And I panicked.

I went and looked in the registers,
through the admissions.

And I prayed!

I swear, I even started praying.

I promised myself that if you
were alive, I’d tell you everything.

You shouldn’t wait
to tell people you love them.

And, between those two operations,
I couldn’t stop myself.

I used the hospital phone,

and I called you.

Seven rings.

Eight rings.

My head was throbbing.

I felt like my brain
was going to explode.

Finally you answered.

And I was...

I was relieved.

But I panicked, I didn’t know
what to say, so I hung up.

That was you, the mysterious phone call
at dawn on Saturday?

When that male nurse
talked to me yesterday,

that’s what was on my mind.

The moment I’d tell you everything.

And even when we got
to the consultation room,

I was imagining that it was you.

But not at all, he was this guy
in awful stripey boxers!

I know I can’t possibly have you.

That’s what I tell myself
after each of our sessions.

But it’s...

it’s my gut, it’s my body,
it doesn’t understand.

All the cells of which I’m made

think the opposite.

Can you explain to me why?

You’ll tell me it’s the trauma.

But my trauma is you.

And it’s been going on for months.

I know it can never happen.

That I have no chance.

And don’t worry,
I won’t do a Glenn Close in..

Fatal Attraction,

calling you night and day,
becoming your wife’s best friend,

boiling the bunny
for the kids. No.

But the thing is,
I don’t know...

how to get back to my life.

Or to the hospital.

Or to that pathetic ultimatum.

Cédric or not Cédric?

Who gives a damn?

All that matters to me is you.

Is this where you tell me
that’s all for today?

Quite. We’ll talk more
about this next week.

Shall I call a taxi?

- It’s okay, I’ll take the metro.
- Are you sure you’re up to it?