All language subtitles for En.therapie.S01E02.1080p.BluRay.DD+5.1.x264-SbR_track4_[eng]

Mr. Chibane.

Come on in.

Are there rules?

Sorry?

A protocol of action.

No, not initially.

We’ll see how things progress.

So the client is king?

In France we chop kings’ heads off.

Is that a shrink joke?

Right.

IN THERAPY

ADEL – TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 2015, 10 A.M.

Well?

What are your first impressions?

About what?

About me.

It’s your job,
getting a sense of people.

The way I dress, the look in my eye,

my gestures, my attitude,
stuff like that.

I’ve got a friend
who phoned a clairvoyant,

just phoned,

and from his voice
this woman knew he had two sisters.

She also mentioned his problems at work
and with his girlfriend.

Impressive, huh?

We don’t have such powers.

You don’t have to reveal your secrets,

I just want to understand the process.

So?

What do you see?

First, I have no secrets.

I don’t have the answers, you do.

Cut the bullshit.

I’ve investigated you.

You’re a hot shot.

- Investigated me?
- It’s not complicated.

I learned a lot on the Internet.
I bet all your patients do the same.

You’re an expert court witness,
you do work for child welfare...

And I checked your bibliography.

Impressive.

I didn’t much like your articles.

They seemed a bit far-fetched.

I dug a bit further, phoning one
of your colleagues and a former patient.

What was the point
of this investigation?

You can’t be too careful.

When you want something
you need guarantees.

I wanted to check your expertise.

Why did you make this appointment?

We’ll get to that.

But answer me first.
What do you perceive about me?

Come on, make an effort!
What’s my job?

I’ve given you some clues.

I’m a cop.

Investigation, cop...
You get the link?

I’m a fucking cop!

What sort of cop, do you think?

Look.

Before we go any further,

I must ask you something.

Are you armed?

You’re clearly not a bobby on the beat,

nor a desk jockey,
nor a ministry official.

In active service,

right?

The BAC?

The GIGN?

The GIGN are gendarmes, not police.

Unbelievable!

Professional people in France
know fuck-all about who protect them!

Even right now!

I’m in the Intervention Squad.
Know what that is?

Of course, yes.
Especially right now, as you say.

So you know what’s been going on
outside here, then?

Are you one of those
who went into the Bataclan on Friday?

I was there, yeah.

- Is that why you’re here?
- No.

Well, it’s sort of linked.

What happened to you there?

Look, don’t go jumping to conclusions.

This is just so you’ll understand
what’s really brought me here.

Don’t get excited by the details,
or we’ll never get there.

I’m not getting excited.

Sit comfortably.

I’m listening.

Well...

we got the call a bit before 10 p.m.

Half an hour later
I was ready with all my group.

I’m the group leader.

The truck set off towards Charonne.

We didn’t know anything,
we didn’t know about the Bataclan.

We heard on the way
and changed direction.

When we got there
we heard about the hostages.

We knew it’d be tough.
The beardies don’t negotiate.

I’d been at the attack
on the kosher supermarket, not inside,

but we heard about it from colleagues.

So, with hundreds of civilians,
we knew we’d be exposed.

And we went in.

The first surprising thing
was the silence.

Have you heard other accounts?

Sorry, it’s unrelated,
I was reminded of someone else.

Carry on, I’m listening.

Just before us, two Anti-Crime guys,
fucking heroes,

went in with just their handguns.

They shot one of the terrorists,
and the others fell back.

So when we went in,

there wasn’t a sound.

No gunfire, no shouting.

As silent as the grave.

There was just...

mobile phones ringing.

Hundreds of mobiles ringing.

No one knew
how many terrorists there were,

whether they’d run

or were inside waiting to ambush us
or blow the place up.

We got into position.

We were behind the Kevlar shield,
the one that was shot 22 times.

And we entered in column formation.

So you’re a hero too.

No, it’s our job to intervene.

We’re trained to do it
and we’re paid to do it.

Your sense of duty
is thoroughly to your credit.

Still, however well-trained you are,

it’s not common to enter a place
full of bodies and waiting fanatics.

That leaves traces.

Stop it! I can see where you’re heading.

Unusual or not,
it’s just another operation.

Our job is to go in, intervene,

do our job the best we can, then leave.

I understand.

An example. I can’t tell you everything,

but in the corridor

we had a problem with the shield
because of a step we hadn’t spotted.

We sorted it out,

but that’s the sort of thing

which bothers me
when I think about it after.

It could have gone wrong.

We stay strong...

because if we gave in to our emotions

it’d end badly.

For us and for you,
who we’re protecting.

Do you understand?

The protocol protects you,

it helps keep your emotions at bay,
but doesn’t cancel them out.

Nor does it cancel you out
as an individual.

You talk of the group,
you say “we”,

but what you experienced
going into the Bataclan,

only you experienced it like that.

Each of you
experienced it your own way.

You don’t understand.

It’s because we’re like that

that you can earn your living
in your armchair!

A fair comment.

No, I can see you don’t like it.

You can’t accept it.

I’m used to it.

Used to what?

Yeah, it’s like with...

my best friend, who I go running with.

Yet he’s discreet, genteel...
Are you with me?

He’s gay.

But even he wanted to know how I felt.

He was really shaken up by it.

We were all shaken up by it,
as you say.

It’s normal for you to be.

But I shouldn’t.

You’re right about one thing.

We have our techniques
for protecting ourselves.

We debrief afterwards,
we keep things at a remove,

we check the protocol was followed,

and we adapt if needs be, we retrain.

We never stop.

It’s funny, but it makes me think

about my dad after my mom died.

He’d never done a thing in the house.
Suddenly he never stopped.

He organized the funeral,
invited the whole family,

went through all the photos
and the paperwork,

tidied up the house,
rearranged the living room...

He even repainted the front of the house
and did the garden.

He didn’t stop for a whole year.

I wondered if he’d finally crack.

When I asked him about it he said,

“Adel, I don’t have a minute to spare.
Your mother left such a mess.”

The bastard!

She spent her life
clearing up after him.

How did that make you feel?

It made me angry.

He never picked up
as much as a sock.

It’s interesting,

this link you’ve drawn between
your reaction to the recent events

and that of your father
to your mother’s death.

Right.

Very subtle!

Stop right there,
it’s totally different.

For one big reason.

My mother’s death was the biggest shock
of my life. Okay?

Whereas what happened on the 13th
was my job.

I sense regret on your part
that your father didn’t “crack”.

But are you really talking about him?

Why did you come to see me,
Mr. Chibane?

You’ve explained the context,
but try to formulate it.

Go ahead.

It’s because of what happened
with my friend, the gay guy.

We went running on Sunday.

Can we give this friend a name?

His name’s Fabien.

He’s great,
we’ve known each other since law school.

I tease him a bit,
but he’s got a sense of humor.

We went running, like every Sunday.

After what happened, I want to keep
in shape. We’re on maximum alert.

Fabien’s usually discreet,
but I could tell he wanted to know.

We were running,

and I started telling him,
but a mild version.

Then I fell.

Fell?

Do you mean you tripped?

Did you lose consciousness?

A funny expression, don’t you think,
“to lose consciousness”?

Makes me think of my dad.

He always thinks
in terms of profit and loss.

Are you like that too?

Probably now and then, yes.

What would you say is the opposite
of a loss of consciousness?

A profit?

Who cares!

I didn’t faint right away,

I had time to freak out first.

I thought I was dying.

What did you friend Fabien do?

A good thing he was there.

He called an ambulance.

I’d fallen in his arms.

I said, “I hope you enjoyed that
at least, you bastard!”

He doesn’t mind my teasing.

He’s cool, he can take a joke.

He’s the one who made me come here.

The intern called it
a “vasovagal syncope”.

That says it all and nothing at all.

I didn’t want to make any fuss

or for my bosses to know.

This is no time to let the group down.

Maybe it was just fatigue
caused by all the stress.

And Fabien, who cares about you,

may have a sense of humor,
but I don’t suppose he agreed?

I don’t want to have a go at him,
but he’s a bit of a Jewish mother.

He made this big fuss
about how he’d never seen me like that,

how I had to see someone..

But I couldn’t see the in-house shrink.
Everyone would freak out.

Fabien hasn’t stopped calling me.

He gave me your number.

He said, “Go and see him.
No one else will know.”

He made me promise.

And I keep my promises.

There, now you know everything.

So he gave you my number.
When exactly was this?

Yesterday.

Then you investigated.

It must have taken some time.

Phone calls, reading the articles...

No, not much time,
and I’m not a big sleeper.

And you called this morning.

Yeah.

I promised Fabien, I told you.

- What are you getting at?
- What do you think I’m getting at?

Stop winding me up!

You think I was in a hurry
to come here and spin you a line?

Maybe I wasn’t very clear
with my joke about kings.

The “shrink joke”.

It was a bit aggressive of me.
I apologize.

I was trying to suggest

that what happens to the patient in here

is not necessarily what they expect.

And they don’t always like it.

We hide things from ourselves,

but we do so in the words we speak,

in our gestures.

They are both hidden and exposed.

We psychoanalysts help you

to spot and explore these things
which are hidden in plain sight.

I don’t see the link.

You think that I think

that you’re hiding something
about why you came here.

That’s complicated.

“You think
that I think that you think...”

Say whatever is on your mind.

Help me out of this.

Please...

tell me.

Take your time.

I don’t have fucking time!

I don’t have time!

We’re on maximum alert,

it could happen any moment!

We know where they are!

The others need me,
I can’t afford to fuck up!

Sit back down.

Carry on with your account.

Go on.

It hit me when we went in.

I told you about the silence.

There was the smell of blood too.

It leapt right out at me.

All of a sudden I wasn’t there.

But when you’re in a column

you have your hand
on the next guy’s shoulder.

So I was in step, but...

I was blind, you understand?

Like there was a veil
in front of my face.

I don’t know how long that lasted.

Then I came back all of a sudden.

I was still in the column,

we’d stopped for a moment,

then we started moving again.

But actually...

that isn’t what made me come back.

My suit felt tight around my calf.

I tugged at it, but it wouldn’t loosen.

So I looked down

and I saw a hand gripping me.

A hand coming out of a pile.

There were piles of bodies,
dead and alive.

We were wading through
blood and organic matter.

And here was one person...

holding on to me,
trying to hold me back.

I pulled sharply away and carried on.

That’s protocol.

You secure first, save people after.
It makes sense.

But I can’t get that out of my head.

I keep thinking about it,
day and night.

I don’t know what’s happening to me.

First I have to say
that I think taking this step

was very sensible of you.

And very brave.

Don’t worry,
we’ll find a protocol of action.

Are you sure?

I can’t be sure.
It’s work we’ll do together.

But I think
you’re perfectly capable of doing it.

What do you mean?

I need treatment.
That’s your job, isn’t it?

Of course.

We’ll find a medical treatment
to get you through this phase,

but that’s not the crux.

I can see where you’re heading.

I don’t know if Fabien
was trying to trap me, but...

we’re at cross-purposes.
I’m not doing that.

“That”?

I’m not going to talk all about my dad,
my mom, my childhood,

the whole caboodle.

It’s not that I don’t want to help,
you seem nice, but...

this is an emergency.

I’m responsible for human beings,
starting with my men.

One thing I don’t get.

Why didn’t you talk to your superiors
about what happened to you?

Are you mad? Do you want them
to freak out and suspend me?

Isn’t that the protocol?

No.

Not one of us would be so stupid.

That’s why I’m here,
to avoid making waves.

I’m paying you myself,
and it’s not cheap.

So I want results.

That’s my protocol.

You’re right,
we haven’t talked about money.

Not everyone pays the same fee.

It has to cost you, not me.

Why?

So that it stays my job,
as you have said.

We’re not equal in this situation,
our input isn’t the same.

So how much is it for me?

Do you want to see my tax return?
My wife’s pay slips?

We’ll think about it.

What’s your wife’s name?

Audrey.

What does Audrey think of this?

Nothing. I haven’t told her
and she wouldn’t understand.

Are you afraid she’d worry about you?

Like Fabien?
Don’t you think these people care?

Yeah, if I tell her
about my fainting fit, she’ll freak out.

Anxiety attack.

What?

What happened to you
is called an anxiety attack.

This anxiety has been with you
since the Bataclan incident,

where you were so shocked
you even went blind for a while.

Then it caused you to pass out

when you talked about it
to your friend Fabien.

Right, I’m wasting my time with you.

I have better things to do.

I could be called at any minute.

I was told you’re the best.
There’s been a big misunderstanding.

- I’m going.
- I don’t think so.

You don’t think I’m going?

You don’t know me.

I don’t think
there’s been a misunderstanding.

You came here seeking help,

and I think I can provide that.

It is henceforth my responsibility.

Yours is to do all you can
to get better.

I’ll prescribe a light tranquillizer
to help you through the next few days.

We’ll talk some more next week.

What is this, blackmail?

I have to talk to get the medication?

I just think the medication alone
isn’t enough.

I’m now going to make
an important and difficult request.

Come next time without your gun.

I can’t, I’m under orders.

I’m sure there’s a way.
I’m asking you, it’s important.

This is a place outside of which
you must leave certain things.

And if I don’t come back?

Together we can find what triggered
your anxiety attack.

I’m not anxious, I’m angry!

Do you want to know why I’m angry?
What’s stopping me sleeping?

However good I am at my job,

it’s pointless
because of people like you!

Intellectuals, humanitarian
champagne socialists, politicians...

All hiding their cowardice
behind their “sensitivity”!

It’s because of you I always turn up
too late and do the dirty work,

walking through people’s brains and...

- Is this all the time?
- What?

You said you couldn’t sleep.
Has it been every night since Friday?

No, I don’t have trouble sleeping,
I’m thinking!

About what?

About what to do
to stop it happening again!

You’re having trouble sleeping,
and you’re not the only one, right?

Or do none of you talk about it?

Mr. Chibane,
I believe you have other symptoms too.

- Wait...
- Let me speak.

I’m doing what you asked,
giving you my opinion.

My professional opinion.

But I’m no clairvoyant.

I can sketch out a clinical picture.

Insomnia, obsessive thoughts,

mood swings...

but also sudden tears

and, I suppose,
violent stomach pains.

Am I wrong?

Like it or not,

something happened to you
the night of the attacks.

It’s in your words, barely hidden.

You came here so I could hear it.

I shan’t pretend I haven’t heard it.

Can I have a coffee?

We have to stop, it’s time.

We haven’t finished.
What happened to me?

We’ll try to work it out next time.

What do I owe you?

The first session is free.
Let’s call it a test.

We’ll talk about the price
next time.

See you next week, okay?

I’ll think about it.

I’m counting on you, Mr. Chibane.
Good luck.