Original subtitles

This film was awarded the Prix Louis Delluc

The Watchmaker of St. Paul

We would like to thank Mr Louis Pradel, Mayor of Lyon,

and the municipal and prefectorial authorities

for facilitating the shooting of this feature, entirely filmed in Lyon.

Election special, the time is 8:48. The Ministry...

Hey, shut up for God's sake!

Hey.

Come eat.

This damned transistor, it never works when you need it.

The French voted like idiots, you'll see.

Always pissed off.

Because I was at the whores' demonstration at the Place des Jacobins.

They were simply asserting their right to work, like everyone else.

Were they brandishing their work tools?

No, that's not the word. Those ladies are discreet.

Hey, the UDR has over 300 seats. The left has joined forces.

The idiots. It pisses me off.

Don't get so upset.

Communist mayors are okay, so long as they have a right-wing government.

You're right.

The communists are scared shitless. You should know since you're a member.

What did your whores say?

Nothing, except for one. She shouted, "The arse is for everyone!"

- They shut her up. - I knew one. She said...

Wait, I'm not finished! There were a good thousand of them from Lyon.

The atmosphere became increasingly cordial despite all the CRS vehicles.

All of a sudden, a CRS commander shouted, "Everyone on the pavement!"

- That's not true! - That's what he should've said.

- And did they go there? - Everyone did.

Except for the whores. Because that day, the pavement wasn't theirs.

They have a strong sense of professional responsibility.

- All done, chef. - Thank you.

Thank you. It was so thoughtful of you to wait for me. Give me my beef.

- So it's working now? - Yes, it was nothing.

This salad could use some more onion.

I love onion because it gives you good breath.

That's the benefit of being single. You can eat onions.

This one's good. Thank you.

- To your health. - To yours.

This one's better.

Ah, that's nice.

To France. It's getting better and better.

- I think France is doing well. - First, the elections.

It's shit!

The latest poll says 54% of French people are in favour of the death penalty.

So we're divided on the death penalty.

Those people get overlooked. We have to do something. I'll found the ATVDP.

- The ATV what? - What's that?

He founds something new every week.

The ATVDP, the Association

of Television Viewers for the Death Penalty.

Pretty good, isn't it?

The sole objective is that capital executions be televised.

It would air right before Guy Lux.

- With the family all around. - And songs?

And songs, too, so the whole family would be there. Thanks.

There's one thing. In the morning, at dawn, there isn't enough light.

We'll change the schedule around. Or it could be pre-taped, like football.

- In colour, then! - Of course!

If there's one programme that should be in colour, it's that one.

I could have expected that kind of sensitivity on your part.

But wait! We need people on death row!

Well, yes. That's one opinion. We'll make some up, then.

To host it, we need someone serious, someone with a middle-class air about them.

I think Lйon Zitrone would do.

Great idea. He's a good host.

But proper. Nice appearance.

Serious and grave. With a touch of humour in his eye.

- In his left eye. - No, definitely the right one.

I think he's right. But not Michel Droit. That's his right.

Who the hell wants potatoes?

All right, bye.

Goodnight.

- Goodbye. - Are you happy you came?

- Hey, Michel, you're gaining weight. - No, it's my son's.

- I recognise that. It's from Switzerland. - Yes.

Look what kids are doing for fun. They'd be better off working.

They work.

They'd be better off not doing bugger all.

It's hard not to do bugger all!

And they get paid more.

- He's right about that. - Are you coming with me?

- No, I'll go back on foot with Antoine. - Goodnight, Michel.

Sleep well on those elections.

- See you, Johannes. - Bye.

Bernard told me a great story.

Immigrant workers were striking in Saint Etienne.

So of course, they called in the CRS.

But their radio was plugged into the same wavelength as the church mikes.

You know what they heard in the middle of a Sunday sermon?

"Car 9 calling 623. We're approaching the factory. Do you read me, Eugene?"

- That's not true. - Yes.

And during the Elevation, crack! "Prepare the grenades!"

- And did the CRS hear the mass? - I don't know.

What a pity. That would've been great.

Why are you pushing that? There are no cars or anything.

I don't want to be in breach of the law.

- Are you Swiss or what? - No, but I am a watchmaker.

- How's Bernard doing at the trade school? - Not great.

It's too bad he left high school. You should've stopped him.

If you think he asked for my opinion...

High school is a step up, after all, isn't it?

- A step up from what? His father? - Stop talking nonsense.

Come on, let's go.

See you later. My car's over here.

- You don't want to grab a drink? - No, I'm tanked.

All right. Bye, Antoine.

- Sleep well. - Cheers.

- Goodnight! - See you tomorrow if you stop by.

Shut up!

Hi, colleagues. How are you?

- Hello, Mrs Freudenie. How are you? - I'm well, thank you.

- Mr Descombes? - Yes, that's me.

Officer Bricard.

Does the van with licence plate number 5763 Y 69 belong to you?

- Yes, why? - Did it disappear?

No. When I got home last night, it wasn't parked out front.

I figured my son must have taken it. Has there been an accident?

Sort of. You son is not hurt. That's all I can tell you.

Well, that's good.

We should still let them know we're here.

Is that you, Commissioner? Yes, we're at his place.

He doesn't seem to know what's going on. We'll bring him over.

All right. Are you married?

I was.

- Can I take a look? - Go ahead.

No. At the flat, please.

Okay. It's a little complicated, so follow me.

- Your son's bedroom? - Right there, on the left.

- Go take a look. - Why?

- I'll have to ask you to come with us. - Why? Is it about my son?

No. They said they needed you to identify the van.

That's no good because I'm expecting the plumbers this morning.

- Leave the key with the concierge. - There isn't one.

Leave it with a neighbour, then. You have to come.

You're in Vienne, sitting in traffic for two hours. You want to sell your car.

According to the latest poll, 89% of French people are happy.

Are you?

You can't tell me anything?

Pardon me?

I said, you can't tell me anything?

They sent us to fetch you. I don't know any more than that.

Look, it's my van.

Hey, stop the car, for God's sake!

Don't worry. We'll come back with the Commissioner.

Never say that. Definitely not.

Never again...

- There's no question about it. - There are worse ideas.

No, never.

I told you I didn't want that son of a bitch involved.

A car was stolen near here. You'll have to make do with this. Mr Descombes?

- Commissioner Guiboud. Coffee? - No, thank you.

Madam, bring the gentleman a coffee.

We found your van. It was abandoned not far from here.

I know. I saw it on the way here. What happened to my son?

Later.

You had dinner last night with friends. Your son wasn't there when you got home.

He had run off with Miss Torrini.

- Do you know Miss Torrini? - No, not at all.

What happened?

You're not drinking your coffee?

No, thank you.

All right. Let's go, Mr Descombes.

- They got a flat tyre, as you can see. - Yes.

I should have changed the tyres a long time ago.

No. It's better if you're seated for what I'm about to tell you.

Your son killed a man.

What does that mean?

He killed a man not far from here. We don't know why.

Razon, the victim, was an important bloke at the factory where Miss Torrini worked.

A witness saw them set fire to the car and took down the van's licence plate number.

You're as far as we've gotten. It wasn't difficult.

A car's been stolen in the area. I have people looking for it.

Now you know as much as I do.

- It's not true. - There's nothing else you can say.

Looking for a black Citroлn DS 19,

licence plate number 4217 AS 71. Stolen by two individuals, armed and dangerous.

Seventy-one. That's Saфne-et-Loire.

- You care to talk to me about your son? - No.

Fasten your seatbelt.

- Why? - All right, don't fasten your seatbelt.

I'll leave you here. You can take the tram.

Mr Descombes!

Do not leave Lyon. You remain at the disposition of the law.

Excuse me, sir.

Would you mind giving me your seat? I really need to sit down.

Thank you.

- Mr Descombes. - Go ahead.

All right.

Bricard, tell me about this Razon character.

He was lying naked by the shower. There was water on the ground.

He must have heard a noise.

Razon didn't have time to react. He shot him right away.

He or she. Let's take a look.

- They enter the bedroom. They do what? - They wait.

She worked at the same factory as Razon.

They see the clothes here,

on the sofa. They search them.

- Did you search them? - Yes, some envelopes, cigarettes.

Thank you.

- No wallet? - No.

- Razon had a gun. Did you find it? - No.

Judging by the bullet analysis, we can determine that

it was a revolver still used in the army. The killer must have found it here

and taken it along with the wallet.

- I work well with you. - You never agree with me.

Precisely.

I don't know what it is. It's odd.

It's a poem.

By Claudel, I'd say.

"The will of God is suddenly vertical and severe"

Yes, it is Claudel. I said it before seeing the name.

What's more, it's a poem in praise of the parachutists of Indochina.

"Champion of the ocean, gendarme of God"

You can expect anything from Claudel.

"Saint Breton, Saint Brutal, blasted colonel

"And serviceman". Madness.

And this was in his pocket.

He's a former paratrooper from Indochina and Algeria. He had artistic tastes.

His home is nothing like a working man's home.

Firing a submachine gun may be a manual job, but he wasn't like a worker at all.

Do they give workers the right to carry a weapon and a revolver?

If they do, they become cops. He was a special kind of cop.

A factory cop.

Take one from the front, too. A bird's- eye view, so we see the seats.

The carcasses that remain of the seats. It's lucrative. It's a sob story.

And don't forget to capture the steering wheel.

Open the door, too.

- There's the Commissioner. - So, Costes,

- always where it's at? - That's the news business.

So why didn't they try to flee with this one?

Instead of taking their old van that they had to abandon later.

They preferred to burn it.

Burning cars is fashionable.

- I don't want to say the word "leftist"... - You said it.

A simple hypothesis that doesn't lack interest. I won't be the only one to do it.

This sort of crime on the night of the elections. It's a piece of cake.

Unless it was a simple case of criminal morals.

- The burnt car is good for you. - Of course.

That's what will make them unappealing.

- Is Descombes' flat over there? - Yes.

Were you sleeping? Did we wake you?

- What time is it? - 11:30.

Yes.

My name is Costes. I'm a journalist.

I know you and your son are still on good terms.

You've always had a good relationship. It's easy to talk about,

when you only have good memories.

You think?

We'll try.

I won't keep you long.

No, listen.

- Be kind, not today. - Yes, today.

People are interested in him today and are forming opinions

of him today. The opinion they form of him is important.

That may be, but I'm not myself today. My head is empty.

I don't know where I am. I don't know what I've done since yesterday.

We're not talking about yesterday,

but about older memories.

You'll see, it'll come on its own.

Is this his room?

Yes.

And this is where you came to sleep?

No, I didn't know I'd fall asleep.

Mr Descombes, could you come here a moment, please?

Go on, you're lucky enough to have the plumbers come by, so take advantage of it.

- Are we taking pictures? - Maybe later.

The killer's bedroom.

What's that?

It's a family heirloom.

It dates back to the times when people made contraband matches.

My grandfather's brother put it together for that purpose.

They would put a small fir tree log there and then cut it this way

without going all the way to the end. Then they would put it in the other way,

like so, and it would make a little bush of a hundred matches.

They would dip that into the sulphur first, and then into the phosphorous.

It was worth one sou. Or five years if they got nabbed.

- Your great-uncle was nabbed. - Yes.

Yes, because...

He had phosphorous on the soles of his shoes, and it set off sparks when he walked.

The police spotted him and put him in prison.

There's no point in writing that down

because his daughters still live in Ardeche.

I won't mention it, Mr Descombes.

Although that brave smuggler does deserve all of our sympathy.

An outlaw. It's fascinating for a child. It's like a folk tale.

- Was he the family hero? - No.

You're placing too much importance on it. There are no heroes in the family.

In any case, I don't think Bernard likes heroes much.

Mr Descombes, you're a widower, correct?

No, I'm not.

My wife is dead, but we were already separated.

I'm a widower all the same, I suppose.

I was as sad as a real widower.

- All right, Mr Descombes, goodbye and... - Goodbye.

- Goodbye, Mr Descombes. - Goodbye.

Thank you.

- I'll stop by the store. - Okay. Don't worry about it.

Excuse me, does Mr Descombes live here?

- Yes, but if it's not urgent... - Yes, it is urgent.

- What do you want, madam? - A short interview.

I have nothing to say to you.

You're closing the door on a friend.

- Are you a journalist? - Yes.

I've seen too many journalists.

- Millions of people read my newspaper. - I don't care.

Your son is among them.

They don't know what happened.

They found a dead man, but who's to say that he didn't attack your son?

What proof is there that your son killed him? He wasn't alone.

Picture him listening to the radio in his car. What does he hear?

A hostile voice, bringing charges against him that may be false

and to which he can't even respond.

Don't you think he'd be happy to hear his best friend's voice?

You've heard those appeals before.

They can be very moving.

What do you want me to say to him?

I don't even know who my son is any more.

I won't say the words I used to say. They won't work any more.

I wouldn't even dare talk to him right now.

They're after him, they could kill him. What do you say to a man in that situation?

Even if it is your son. What would you say?

There must be something you want to say, even if you don't know how. Tell me.

Yes, that he evades the police.

- You think that's what he expects from you?

- He expects nothing from me.

If he had expected something from me, he would've confided in me. It's too late.

No. Now's the time to tell him what you think without admitting to anything.

He has to give up. He has to surrender to the police before it's too late.

Before they shoot him. They'll shoot him without warning.

They think he's armed. They, too, are afraid.

But they have nothing to lose by killing him.

Do you know what I think?

I think he's waiting for you to tell him to surrender.

- Hello. - Hello.

Yes, I'm waiting. What do you want me to do?

Razon with a "Z", miss. Don't mess up the dead man's name.

She's such an idiot!

...have to confess to everything.

I don't give a damn. You have to deal with it. It's not my business.

Hello? Traffic police?

- No, not the Guibert butcher shop. I know. - The "Descombes son" file.

- Have you seen the film La Grande Bouffe? - No.

Normally, there's nothing more innocent than food.

In that movie, food is disgusting. It gets lower, it's worse than obscene.

- They should ban it. - Especially in Lyon.

And what does that prove?

That he was against the war or that he had a thing for naked little girls.

There are also some subversive slogans.

- There are even more in my son's bedroom. - Because he's a leftist?

No, because his father is a cop.

I do not like war because war happens

in the countryside and the countryside bores me.

All right, then.

Everything is in order.

- Yes, thank you. - Oh, no.

They shouldn't have removed them. An unfortunate move by a subordinate of mine.

And a notebook they took from his desk, and that I want to return as well.

It's mostly notes about movies.

And the tragic argument he had with his girlfriend over a movie they watched.

Are you interested in seeing what the girl looks like?

I haven't had the time to think about it.

I have a photo of her taken at a shooting gallery at a funfair.

Does seeing her have an effect on you?

- It's the rifle that has an effect on me. - Yes, it's unpleasant.

When one knows.

And nothing erases that impression of her.

She has her role in this business, an important role.

She's the source of it all. That's how I feel, anyway.

She was accused of theft at the factory. Razon surprised her during lunch hour.

In a workshop. He searched her and found two radios on her.

- I don't like this Razon guy. - Your son didn't like him, either.

And she liked him even less.

- She said he hit her. It's possible. - And even probable.

And that's where it ends.

Except that Liliane was fired.

And the girl took your son to Razon's flat.

She initiated all this business.

She asked him to punish Razon. He's a kid, he obeyed.

If only we could talk to him,

tell him he can still stop this.

What complicates matters is that he's armed now.

I know what you're going to ask me. To talk to him over the radio.

And tell him to give himself up. Is that it?

- You've thought about it. - It's done.

- A journalist conned me into doing it. - What do you mean, "conned"?

Because if the police had asked me, I wouldn't have done it.

And it turned out to be the police all the same.

Did you hear that?

Leftist.

Rubbish.

And the girl, a slut leading Bernard around by the nose. Where'd the cop get that from?

And the woman, that journalist.

"Mr Descombes, make an appeal. You'll see."

As if that's all he was waiting for to surrender.

All those people talked to me about was his cowardice. What idiots.

Well, you were wrong. Just tell yourself he didn't hear your little speech.

Give me that.

I hope.

In any case, he'll do whatever he wants.

He only ever did what he wanted to.

- This bloke Razon is a bastard, isn't he? - That's obvious.

What do you want me to say?

It's just that this could become a political story.

Do you think that would be good for Bernard?

I don't know, it depends.

I'm asking you what you think!

- Eat your salad. - No, I'm not hungry. You have it.

- Are you following me now? - No, I was passing through here.

Buying carrots, I suppose.

You don't actually think my son would come to the market with me?

Don't get upset. If there's any news of your son, you'll hear it from me.

- You have news? - Yes.

They were seen in a little village in Ardeche called La Pervenche, 10 km from Privas.

There's a hostel there run by a woman named Marie-Louise.

They spent two leisurely days there. People thought they were lovers.

- They are lovers. - Aren't we all.

To think I was sending him that message at the time...

In any case, they didn't hear it. They had other things to do.

In the end, it's not bad news, neither for you nor for me.

They like to stay in bed too much.

I might need you in a few days.

Why?

If they barricade themselves, I'll ask you to come with me.

You're not obligated to shake my hand,

but I'll extend it anyway.

I have nothing to reproach you for, for the time being.

I'll see you one of these days. The later, the better.

So?

That chap would sell his shirt and his shop to help his son escape.

- Nothing on the wiretap? - Nothing. Oh, yes, a woman.

A wristwatch saleswoman.

There's no reason for the bloke to ring his father and say, "Hi, Dad, how are you?"

If your son did something like that, would he ring you?

- How old is your son? - Seven.

You can rest easy for a little while.

Bricard.

- Oh, hello. - Hello, sir.

We're not here to buy anything, sir.

We're here to talk to you about Liliane.

Liliane Torrini.

Do you know my son?

No, but we know Liliane well. We don't want anything bad to happen to her.

And?

Most importantly, we knew Razon, the bloke that was killed.

So if it can be of use to you, we thought...

Yes.

Well, I don't really see how.

He was a nasty person, a jerk.

I know all of that.

I'm surprised, because they don't mention that in the newspapers.

He was always an arsehole to us. A real swine.

Blokes like that... I'm not saying they should be killed, but there shouldn't be any.

He drove into a picket line one day, hurting two cops. There was no investigation.

And there's one thing in particular that we should tell you.

He chased after Liliane. Relentlessly, too.

Anyway, he picked on all the girls. But it was more serious with Liliane.

So she had to defend herself...

I'm convinced that's the reason he fired her.

- They told me that Razon had... - The story about the radio?

- But Razon was the sole witness. - Yes. Watch out.

And did my son know that?

I didn't say that, sir. I don't know your son.

She told me about him once.

- Liliane spoke to you about my son? - She told me his name, that's all.

Nothing you've told me is a very big deal.

- Would you like to come in for a minute? - No, thank you.

We have to get back to work. We're in a hurry.

Anyhow, thank you for coming to tell me that.

- You know, it's in our own interest. - Okay, thank you.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

Michel! Come here!

Yes, coming!

Burn rubber, it's fine.

That way.

I'm going to corner that swine!

- Arseholes! - Bastards!

- Jerks! - Scoundrels!

- You'd like to hit him, wouldn't you? - You and your obscene posters!

Arseholes, scoundrels!

Now you're worried, eh?

Now you're getting it. That'll teach you to mess with me.

Get lost, arseholes!

Scoundrels!

The swine!

- How is the water? - Oh, my God!

The swine.

God, that felt good.

Who were those blokes?

- Razon's friends, of course. - Shit.

Employer militia. They're called vigilantes.

I didn't know there was such a thing.

Officially, there isn't. But there's the proof.

What do we do?

Should I press charges?

Now's not the time.

- Mr Gaucher. My neighbour, the glazier. - Hello, sir.

- People learn of things quickly, I see. - No, but they hear them.

God, look at this.

Let's get a drink.

- Was Bernard arrested? - No, not yet.

You scared me.

When you asked to meet me here and wouldn't talk to me on the phone,

- I thought Bernard had been killed. - That's the stuff of movies, Mr Descombes.

Most arrests go off without incident. We'll get them easily, you'll see.

DEAD

France is a strange country, Mr Descombes.

Fifty million inhabitants and 20 million informers.

Nothing too serious.

Bernard ran away at the age of twelve?

Yes, that's right.

- And you didn't call the police? - No.

Was he gone for a long time?

Long enough, yes. He went to Belgium, to Namur.

To see a woman who cared for him after his mother left.

She stayed with us for six years.

I let her go afterwards because he didn't need her any more.

I didn't know he still thought about Madeleine.

That's her name, Madeleine.

He never talked to me about it.

And if he had asked you to take him to Namur to see her?

It would have made me very happy.

Maybe he didn't want to make you happy. Maybe he wanted to be alone with her.

I'm well aware of that.

Do you know what Bernard was lacking, Mr Descombes?

- Madeleine, of course. - Madeleine or...

another woman at the house.

So I've been told.

That woman, Madeleine... Madeleine what?

Fourmet.

- Does she still live in Namur? - I don't think so.

- Why? Do you think Bernard... - No.

I don't think anything.

She left Namur, but I don't know where she lives now.

- He was no longer in touch with her? - He didn't tell me.

That blasted dog.

Come on, Wolfgang, let's go.

Wolfgang. That's his name, oddly enough.

In any case, you didn't want to share your son.

My profession allowed me to keep him with me.

He had so much fun.

The magnifying glass, the small tools, the coils, it was like a puzzle.

It's difficult, it goes slowly and then, all of a sudden,

there it is, it works. He thought I did it for fun.

Sometimes, when I would go to churches or town halls to repair the big clocks...

The big ones, they never work. I would take him with me in my van.

We ate on the road. We got home late.

Had there been a woman at the house, she would've spent all her time waiting for us.

You could have left him from time to time.

That would've deprived us both of a great deal of joy.

He really liked being with me.

It's too bad that cops don't take their kids to work. It could lead to early callings.

He was also very skilled with his hands.

A lot more than me, for that matter.

That's why I wasn't surprised when he left high school to go to trade school.

Trade school?

What would he have done after leaving trade school?

He did leave, Mr Guiboud.

My son is getting ready to join the police force. And if he can...

It's the best that I could hope for him.

My wife had left three months before.

It was the dead of winter. It was very, very cold.

Suddenly, a little boy approached me.

He looked at me and said,

"You've changed so much!"

And then he left right away.

I guess he had nothing else to say to me.

I didn't recognise him, I'd never seen him before.

I didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl because he was all bundled up.

I ran after him to ask him...

and he said, "A boy."

He seemed surprised by my question.

- You have to admit it was stupid. - Oh, no.

If it's a girl, it's more painful. And if it's a boy, it's more mean.

I was sitting on the tram once, across from a young boy. He said,

looking at his mother, "That man smells bad." It was my cologne,

but it was embarrassing, regardless.

You had an encounter with a mean boy.

No, I didn't see anything mean about it.

No, I was very happy. I was happy that a small boy

had crossed the street to tell me, "You've changed so much."

It's extraordinary. It's not mean, quite the opposite.

- A young boy who comes all by himself... - It's nerve.

No! To come and tell you something that surprised him and that he wanted to share.

Get it?

I don't think anyone ever loved me the way

that boy did, even if it lasted only a minute.

You must lead a happy life, Mr Descombes.

I was only really sad twice.

And this time around, I'm beginning to gain the upper hand.

You can come get your van whenever you like.

- I'm not in any hurry. - Well, we're not a storage facility.

- I'll get it and I'll burn it. - It runs in the family.

I'm bringing back the dog.

- Is she awake? - Yes.

- You're not coming in?

- No, please tell her that her father came by.

Hello Madeleine.

Well, they'll definitely come see you.

What should I say to them?

Well, I told them that you raised him when he was very young.

And I told them about Namur as well. So you can tell them that.

Why? Does it bother you?

No, it's just that...

What? Do you know something?

Well, a little bit.

I was wondering if I should talk to you about it.

I got this the day before yesterday.

"We send you our love from Saint Etienne."

Why "we"? Do you know the girl?

A little.

- I don't. - Really?

That's not good. Why didn't he introduce you?

I don't know.

Maybe he was afraid I wouldn't be happy. But why?

Is the girl no good?

I thought she was all right. Rather nice.

- Did she come here? - Yes.

- Often? - No. Twice, I think.

Once this winter. He brought her here.

It was snowing. He mainly wanted to show her the garden.

He liked this garden.

The house, too, but mainly the garden.

You know how it is, kids need gardens.

This one won't last for much longer.

Yes, I know.

They're going to demolish the house.

To build a hospital, it seems.

Yes.

You see, he never even told me that he visited you.

And yet, he wasn't secretive.

Although now, who knows what to say?

What do I do with it?

Tear it up, Madeleine. And burn it.

- All in all, you knew him better than me. - Don't say that, Mr Descombes.

In the beginning, maybe. But not since he left with you.

He didn't talk to me. Obviously.

One day he said, "There's no better man than my father.

"Everybody loves him."

Everybody,

but not Bernard.

You still have it, your first prize.

That was second.

Yes, I sang a little at those contests down there.

But...

What else did he say to you about me, about him and me?

I don't know any more.

Yes. One day he said... It really struck me.

He said, "My father is too kind to a boy like me."

What did he mean by that?

I don't know.

Perhaps that you're not supposed to be kind to a grown boy.

Yes.

- In short, he blamed me. - No, that's not it.

- Look, I'm the one who's reproaching you. - No, come on.

If there's anyone to reproach...

And you, you haven't received any news?

No.

- And the police? - They haven't, either.

- All the better. - Yes, all the better.

You know, maybe he didn't have a choice.

We must propagate the imperfect subjunctive within the lower classes

A demonstration organised by various leftist movements

was held near the factory where Liliane Torrini worked.

The police were forced to charge.

The two young killers are still on the run.

Young Bernard's father did not want to respond to our questions.

He is still anxiously awaiting

a reply to his moving appeal.

It's normal that youth would behave in this

way, considering the liberties they're given.

I'd throw them all into the army.

They killed a bloke. Maybe they had their reasons.

But to burn his car...

The ORTF is interesting.

And would you like to top the meal off with tripe or pig's feet?

One of each.

One of each, yes.

The CGT condemns the presence of armed persons at the workplace.

Once more, it regrets the unrest created in the factory, because of a crime

that may have been instigated by certain irresponsible organisations.

The CGT advises calm

and counts on the discipline and awareness of the workers.

I'm here in the name of the UDR

to bid a final farewell to our friend Razon

and pay homage to the memory of an honest man.

Did you know that Mr Descombes was back there?

- He's here? - In the back.

... in Indochina and Algeria.

One of those Frenchmen we are proud of.

I didn't know you were here. You should have come with me.

So I could listen to that with you? Your friends are swell.

I had nothing to do with it.

Idiots, all of them. They're talking nonsense in the streets, I'd like to...

But your friend at the CGT, I won't forget him.

Excuse me, but he spoke for himself. That's all.

- Can I get you anything, Mr Rainier? - No, thank you.

Besides, I barely know him.

He spoke for himself? None of you do that.

He just about called him a leftist. Just like those newspapers you hate.

I said nothing of the sort.

But you thought it. He's being humiliated.

- Bernard liked you a lot, you know. - So did I, for God's sake!

- It's all right, don't get angry. - I'll get angry if I want!

And what then? Since you brought it up.

Leftist or not, what do you know about it? What do you know about poor Bernard?

Me? I know everything.

He never told you anything. So, what then?

Shit!

The father of the killer, madam.

ALL COPS SHOULD BE SHOT

The time is now 9:00. Roger Pellerin at the mike.

Exceptional tiercй at Vincennes.

Weekend killer. Over 200 dead.

The young killers from Lyon are still are on the run.

Lip: fifth week of the strike.

Beef on the rise.

Your son has been arrested.

But don't worry, there was no damage.

- Where? - The Island of Brйhat.

- Brйhat? - On the northern coast.

They were stupid enough to leave their car parked across the street.

- Have you been to Brйhat? - No.

We were actually planning to go there on holiday last year, but no.

They were taken to Saint-Brieuc. There's a train tonight with a change-over in Paris.

- What time does it depart? - At 7:24.

Okay, thank you. I'll have time to finish this.

May I?

Now that we're moving, we can...

Where are you in the train?

- Car 14. - I have a T2.

A sleeper in second class, there's an open seat. Will you come join me soon?

Why?

So we can travel together.

Waiter!

None for me, thank you.

Let's see what the chef is threatening us with.

"Duplantin." Because they sign for their crimes, too.

A stream of hors d'oeuvres, Curnonsky loin of veal...

The leather lead that led the poor veal to the abattoir.

- Crepes with jam. - You and your fucking jam!

I wonder what state my son is in.

Don't start imagining things.

- They may have... - Worked him over?

No, don't worry. He confessed everything.

Even if he did confess,

everyone knows how things work at your police stations.

Yes, sometimes people do get hurt a little, to make them talk,

or to scare them.

That's for the Arabs.

If your son was Algerian or a long-hair, I'm not saying...

But you know, chaps soaked in blood

billy clubs... All of that. It's the stuff of movies.

We have simpler methods.

A couple knocks to the head with a phone book. That's enough.

The bloke talks. And it doesn't leave any scars.

But...

It's in prison that he has to be careful.

- You're not hungry? - No.

- May I? - Yes, go ahead.

You're not expecting him to fall into your arms.

I'm not expecting anything.

The worst part isn't seeing your son between two gendarmes,

it's seeing the way he looks out at you.

I like you a lot, Mr Descombes.

You're right. How will he look at you?

That's another reason I want to see your son.

We don't understand our own kids, so we try to understand other people's kids.

I deal with professional killers and gangsters. It's my job, but I don't care.

Your son's story is more important.

Primarily because it's not unique.

I wonder what they've done to them, to the kids.

- Are you armed? - Always when I'm on duty.

You have a dirty job.

People tell me that all the time.

INVESTIGATING ROOM NO. 1

He's in there.

Both of them are. Wait one moment.

Hello, is this Lyon? Yes, he is. I'll transfer you.

You have Lyon.

Miss, was that about...

I can't tell you that, sir.

Thank you.

Well, it's not getting any better.

- Bernard isn't there? - They left again.

- Where'd they go? - There's another exit.

They don't want me to see him? Is he banged-up? Is that it?

No.

They're afraid to let me see him. And you won't tell me anything, of course.

If something happened to him...

Listen, he doesn't want to see you. That's all there is to it.

What do you mean he doesn't want to see me?

He told you that?

He told me that.

But why? Did he say why?

Is it because I came with a cop?

You shouldn't have come. You're starting to piss me off.

Thank you, sir. You're early.

I can't wait in your car?

I have one more run to make, but I think they'll be here soon.

Thank you.

- You're early. - Yes.

- I'll make coffee. Shall I bring you a cup?

- Thank you.

It's going to be a bumpy ride. You're not afraid of flying?

I don't know, it's my first time.

Really? You might be the only one. It's already come here.

No, that would surprise me.

Come on, let's go.

- Here's the coffee. - Thank you.

I'll get the sugar.

Wait for me.

- Here you are. - Thank you.

Would you like anything else?

No, thank you.

Hi, Dad.

Flight to Lyon now boarding.

Let's go.

Fasten your seatbelts.

Listen, I understand

that a son wouldn't want to see his father,

especially in circumstances such as these.

But a father can see his son, right?

- You'll see him, Mr Descombes. - Oh.

Were you able to arrange something?

You'll see him at the judge's office.

We don't have to ask for his opinion on that. The judge is a woman.

Yes. She's good. You'll see.

- Thank you. - But wait.

It's not a visit, but rather a confrontation.

A lot of things are dependent on it,

- and dependent on you. - Dependent on me?

Mr Descombes, your son's position is absurd.

Here it is. "I killed that man because he was a swine."

This Razon chap may have been a swine, but that's no reason to kill someone.

So we have to apply a certain meaning to the word "swine,"

political or social meaning, for example. Choose whatever you want. I don't care.

But since he said it.

I plead passion.

And if there isn't any, I'll make it up.

As for politics, your son has no clue.

So I want this to be a crime of passion.

- And I need your help. Excuse me. - Go ahead.

Hello. Hi, my friend.

Wednesday, if you like.

I'd prefer 4:30.

Okay, perfect. Wednesday at 4:30. Goodbye.

Okay. Passion.

Do you know of anything that could support my defence in this sense?

Well, there's the fact that Razon gave the girl the boot.

Yes, I know. Trivial. I need something better than that.

I don't know... Razon treated the young woman poorly, very poorly.

She was reckless enough to tell your son. That explains things.

You told me that two of Miss Torrini's friends came to see you, correct?

Yes, yes, but my son doesn't want anyone to talk about it.

I don't give a damn what he wants, I'm here to defend him!

I'm sure they have some interesting things to say.

- Who are the girls? - I don't know.

Well, figure out how to reach them. It's crucial for the passion angle.

Okay.

- Okay, I'll try. - Good answer.

In exchange...

- Will this work? - As a down payment, yes.

In exchange,

here's a recording

of the first interview I had with your son.

Oh.

Yes, I was able to.

Your son agreed to let you listen to it.

If you don't mind, I'd prefer to listen to this at home.

Very well, then.

- Do you have a tape player? - Yes.

My son's, actually.

- Have a good evening, Mr Descombes. - Goodbye.

Listen, I told you that Razon represented everything that I hate. So I killed him.

Did he do any harm to you, specifically?

If he had done me harm, I wouldn't have killed him.

To your friend, then? He had her axed.

- You don't kill a man for that. - Then why do you kill?

I didn't want the same people to keep getting away with things.

And why that day in particular?

I was going away for a long time. I thought,

"If I don't do it now, I might never do it."

Was she in agreement?

Let's say it was my wedding present.

It will be hard to plead that.

I'm not disagreeing with that.

Did you think of your father in all of that?

At the time, no. But later, yes.

So why did you refuse to see him?

It wasn't the right time.

Are you part of the leftist movement?

No, I have nothing against it, but I'm not part of it. Neither is she.

Liliane is dealing with it the best she can.

I'm not surprised.

That girl is great.

All right, that will be everything for today.

- Hello. - Hello, Mr Descombes?

- Yes, it's me. - You'll see him.

You'll see him the day after tomorrow at 11:00 at the judge's office.

Second floor. Office 109.

- All right. - Have a good evening, Mr Descombes.

Thank you, sir. Thank you.

Mr Descombes, is it all right with you if I record our conversation?

lf you like.

I have the judge's and the clerk's approval.

You know, I was cornered into doing that message on the radio.

- I wasn't the one who... - I never even heard it.

- Really? - We heard about it later.

Liliane and I didn't listen to the radio in the car.

We talked.

Well, I said, "I don't hold it against you."

They told me.

Why Brйhat?

I don't know. I thought of Brйhat from the beginning.

You have nothing else to say to me?

Neither do you, apparently.

Anything I could say to you would only hurt you.

Yes, there is one thing.

I'd rather you didn't come to the trial.

Well, I'm going anyway.

If you want.

It seems that you'll be seeing psychiatrists.

- Don't count on them. - No, I'm not counting on them.

Hello, sir.

Take your seats.

- Hello, madam. - Hello.

I'm listening.

Madam, I believe that I can present very interesting testimonials.

Mr Razon was a man who would readily attack

women at the factory, and would sometimes even go so far as to abuse them.

Consequently, there is a side to this case,

a passionate one, let's say, that may shed some light on the matter.

A passionate side? Nonsense.

Mr Descombes,

it's up to you to convince your son!

Talk to him! It's now or never. Please.

What exactly do they want you to say to me?

Nothing.

If you don't want to help me, I have every reason to drop the case.

All right, I'll try to figure something else out.

I don't like your pink shirt.

Chicken 5.95 F

TRY OUR SAUSAGES

- And for you, sir? - Three small Beaujolais, please.

- That'll be 4.20 francs, sir. - Thank you.

- Anything else? - That's all, thank you.

- Shall I fold it down for you? - No, thank you.

- Hi, I'll have a saveloy, please. - Truffled, sir?

- No. - 2.20 francs.

With some pistachios, perhaps.

With pistachios?

It's our wedding anniversary.

- I'd like to talk to you. - 5.20 francs.

I'll be back after I pay for this.

- Do I pay you? - Yes.

- Thank you. Goodbye, sir. - Goodbye, miss.

Hi, Victor.

- Two saveloy salads, please. - Yes.

Hi, sir.

Thank you.

Perhaps there's something Bernard doesn't want to say?

If he doesn't want to say it, he won't.

Perhaps Razon had some connection to Liliane?

I believe so. He had her kicked her out of the factory.

No, I wasn't talking about that kind of connection.

That kind of connection wouldn't provoke what they call a crime of passion. No.

I'm thinking of something more serious.

Something he doesn't want to say.

And that he especially doesn't want others to say.

He said he killed him because he was swine. That's enough for me.

Not for me. Swine can mean a lot of things, right?

All right, an example. Thank you.

Razon catches the girl stealing. Being who he was, she has to sleep with him.

or else he'll have her fired. Willingly or using force.

Using force, perhaps, but I don't know. Or willingly. Either way, it's rape.

Which wouldn't prevent him from axing her afterwards, for that matter.

Because he thinks she won't say anything.

Except the girl talks. And to whom? To your son.

Which was a very bad idea, incidentally.

No, it's not that kind of story.

And what do you know about it?

I'm thinking about the visitors you had two days after it happened.

Liliane's friends. I'd like to find them.

Don't count on me.

I don't know their names... I wouldn't even recognise them on the street.

If you won't help me...

My son doesn't want anyone talking about that.

Yes, well, I understand that it's not very pleasant

to have people saying that your girlfriend was raped.

Except considering the position your son is in, he should talk about it.

He doesn't want to say it.

Neither do I.

Do you know what awaits you?

There won't be any extenuating circumstances.

And?

It seems as though you'd like to turn it into a political matter, is that it?

My son will decide.

I don't agree with you, Mr Descombes, as you can imagine.

But I like you, regardless.

I'll look for those girls.

And if that can be of service to your son, don't thank me.

I'm not doing it for him.

- You're not leaving, are you? - Yes.

- I'm going home. - See you later, then.

Why "See you later"?

We'll never see each other again.

Keep the change.

- You're coming to get him? - Me, too.

Well, we won't go there in a procession. Do you have your car?

- All right, so you two go. - Yes, see you tonight.

- Would you like for me to take you? - Yes.

- Have you eaten? - Yes.

Mr Descombes, I want to be sure

that I heard you correctly.

Could you please repeat that?

I stand in complete solidarity with my son.

Mr Descombes!

Over here!

Mr Descombes!

Hey!

You'll miss the programme.

On the telly, you idiots!

On the telly, for God's sake!

Would you like to walk for a while?

I left before the ending.

Twenty years for the boy, five for the girl.

That's a lot for a crime of passion.

Otherwise, it's normal.

I was watching him when you made your statement.

You have no idea.

It's as though he understood.

You're quite different, aren't you?

You were the same back there, though.

I can't even say that he smiled. It was...

It was like he was smiling, but without smiling.

Twenty years. Good God.

They made him pay for the way he spoke to them.

They didn't let him speak for very long, though.

I know.

They cut me off, too.

They judged him like a terrorist, but they did everything

they could to ensure that the trial didn't actually become political.

I wanted to say loads of things to them.

I wanted to say that when you can no longer breathe, you end up breaking windows.

We're choking, my friend.

We're choking in this blasted country.

In this climate of cowardice, this satisfied comfort

that people maintain using all means possible. Shit!

You should have told me that before. It would have done me good.

I know.

Maybe you didn't believe it the way you do now.

I'm going to tell you something, Michel.

When it happened, I told myself I was happy that I didn't have any kids.

But after seeing the two of you, especially you,

in front of all those honest people,

I thought there was no one else in the room besides you two.

Sit down.

Sit down!

- Are you all right? - Yes.

Listen, I received an invitation...

It's not going to be very convenient to talk here, is it?

Don't shout. Articulate.

We're not used to it yet.

I saw Liliane.

She's decided on a name for her girl.

If it's a girl, that is.

- Sylvie. - Sylvie?

That's not bad. And if it's a boy?

Well, I don't know. Maybe Michel?

What do you think?

Will you marry Liliane?

I don't know.

That depends on her.

I don't really see the benefit of it, being in prison and all.

I could look after the little one, don't you think?

Why not?

You're used to it.

Not all alone, though. With the help of Liliane's parents.

I'll help them until the girl gets out. And then...

- Do you think they'll go for it? - Yes, I think so.

You see? It's getting easier to talk.

Finally, we only hear what we want to.

I remembered something last night, something I've never told you.

It was the beginning of the last war, in 1940. At the time of the debacle.

We had withdrawn to a place, a little village

called Limace.

In the morning, we were bombarded by aeroplanes

that hit the house where the general has been sleeping.

The general had bailed, of course.

He came back afterwards and he asked us

to get the violin he had forgotten in his room.

I mean, everything was in flames. It was dreadful. I refused.

He took it very badly. "It's an order," he said. So there it is,

refusal to obey orders in front of the enemy.

Council of war. I don't know what came over me. I gave the general a good blow.

It was a good blow! And there were witnesses, my friend.

It was good for me.

And afterwards, it was a complete mess. Everyone bailed.

During the entire occupation

I was never at ease. I thought about it the whole time.

I don't know why I told you that.

I also wanted to tell you

that two of Razon's friends came by and threw petanque balls

at the shop. They smashed the window. Antoine and I chased after them.

I threw one of them into the Saфne.

All right, bye! Bye!

When Michel went back to see Bernard,

the workers had finished repairing the prison roof,

which had been devastated in the last riot.

The train station and the city were almost deserted.

In Vienne, there was a traffic jam 20 km long as usual, and over 100 dead on the roads.

It was almost the 15th of August,

the feast of the Assumption of the Virgin, the patron saint of Lyon.