Original subtitles

ALL OF A SUDDEN

Thank you.

Did you sleep?

A little.

Hang on.

Come on, Mrs. Duris.

Djibril! No!

Gently now.

Don't grab her wrists. Like this.

There.

Hello, Simone.

It's Marie-Lou.

It's good to see you.

Your eyes are beautiful.

Is that part of your collection?

It's lovely.

Djibril, can you pick up the puppet?

And put it on her finger?

There you go.

Come closer.

Look her straight in the eye.

Closer.

This is my friend, Djibril.

Mrs. Duris, my name is Djibril.

Do you remember me?

It's a beautiful day.

Perfect for a walk.

Here.

Not like that. Look.

Your palms facing up, for support.

- There. - Like this?

Yes.

Come on, let's go.

There we go.

Simone, would you show me your collection

in your room later?

This way.

The weather is lovely.

June 6, 2025

Not yet, Adidja.

Who remembers the right approach?

Knock three times, if no reply, go in.

Not exactly.

This is the very basis of Humanitude.

Anyone remember?

We knock 3 times,

wait, 3 seconds, knock 3 more times.

If no answer, wait another 3 seconds,

then knock and enter.

Exactly.

Three, three, one. That's it.

Remember, you're entering someone's home.

If you remember that, it will guide your actions.

Go ahead.

Can we observe the training? Thanks.

He's washing your fingers...

Now your shoulders.

Talk about her, what's in her room.

I saw some photos in your room,

Agatha.

Were you a pilot?

That's incredible.

Ask if I can wash her stomach.

Can Claude wash your stomach, Agatha?

Yes?

Let's go then.

He's lathering your stomach, gently.

Ask if she can raise her left arm.

Can you raise your left arm, please?

That's it.

Great.

I know you can do it!

That's it, well done!

- Like airplane wings! - Take the soap.

Perfect. I'll soap you up now.

That's it.

I'll soap up your arm,

your elbow...

I've never seen her so compliant.

Sure, considering how long it takes.

It's not realistic on a daily basis.

It's like a politician's speech before elections.

It only works for training sessions.

You're amazing, Agatha.

Marie-Lou, it's 2 o'clock.

He's rinsing your arm.

He's rinsing your back now.

That's great, Agatha.

Now he'll rinse your left arm.

We wanted to meet today

to inform you of some new projects.

In the old director's quarters,

currently used as a nap room,

there are four bedrooms.

As I mentioned in my email,

we've decided to offer them for rent.

Priority will be given to single staff members.

But if no one applies,

they'll be offered to healthcare interns or students.

Rent will be deducted directly from your pay,

with rates below the local norms.

Plus it saves travel time.

Won't that blur

our work-life boundaries?

It's definitely a system that suits

those who want to stay close to the residents.

You may wonder

if such people exist...

We're basing this initiative

on the assumption that some people,

myself included,

don't necessarily want to separate work and life.

There will be no obligation to work overtime.

We'll set a quota for night shifts to ensure a fair workload.

We'll simply ask staff residing on site

to be our first call in an emergency.

Can we bring dates back?

What matters is finding a happy medium.

We want applicants who understand

that this establishment is primarily for residents.

In fact, if no one applies,

Marie-Lou is ready to give it a try.

I'm against it, but if it happens,

she'll be a case study.

Exactly.

But I'll keep my love life outside!

Fine.

We'll provide more details later this week.

Another point.

The next Humanitude training session.

It's still four months away,

but we'll need five nursing assistants,

two nurses, and three people from other departments

to volunteer.

As always, this means we'll be short-staffed

for four days.

Vacation days will be tricky at this time.

I'm counting on your cooperation.

Be sure to plan ahead.

Can I share feedback from the floor?

Of course.

Training three times a year, once every four months...

- It's too much. - How so?

It's the same again this time,

we're short-staffed.

It's counterproductive.

Sure.

But I'm telling you in advance so we can plan ahead.

If you keep this training schedule,

we'll need more staff.

I've put in the same request.

But it takes time to train.

That's an extra burden too.

Yes.

We have 120 professionals working here,

10 people max can attend each training session,

there are still 60 people untrained.

With three sessions per year,

we'll have finished training in two years.

Mélanie, I thought you agreed with

Humanitude's values?

There's another problem.

Humanitude is too slow.

Some mornings, staff trained in Humanitude

run out of time and offload onto the afternoon team.

I'm not sure the method is actually feasible.

Worse yet, some Humanitude caregivers

can be condescending

to experienced caregivers who work faster than them.

That's unacceptable.

Thank you, Sophie.

Remember we're in a transition period.

Once everyone has learned Humanitude,

we'll save time.

Statistics prove it.

- 35 minutes per resident... - So I've heard.

But, so far, it doesn't reflect the reality.

Thank you, Sophie.

Thank you all.

I'll have more details at the next team meeting.

I just wanted to keep you all informed.

Thank you all for your presence and feedback.

I'll need your flow sheets by the end of the week.

If there are no questions, that'll be it.

Good luck this afternoon.

Thank you.

At 3:30, in the activities room,

Louise Falcone will be Vanessa's special guest.

Everyone's welcome,

residents and staff, so feel free to drop by.

I'll be there.

Me too.

If you like, you may each say something

to Louise, in turn.

But no obligation.

Mom, I love you.

You were such a strict teacher that...

I got bullied for it, but...

I love you anyway.

Your turn?

I love you too.

You okay?

I confess I used to skip your gym class.

I'd go smoke with my friends.

Very naughty.

- I've quit now. - Good to hear.

How's the training going?

Nearly finished.

I love your roast lamb, Grandma.

Even more than Mom's.

Brutally honest, but never mind.

Would you like to say something, Louise?

The balance beam.

Yes, of course.

The photo earlier.

Can we see it again?

Right.

So beautiful.

That's for sure.

That's for sure.

Magnificent.

Let's all give a warm hand to the Falcone family.

It's great sharing residents' stories

in public like this.

It was Damien's idea.

But Vanessa's personality makes it work.

Thank you everyone.

Next week, we'll welcome Mr. Murano and his family.

The pay raise you requested for assistants

is above the current budget.

Unless you expect us to reduce the company's revenue?

Basically, yes.

Out of the question. Our backers would never agree.

The priority for private nursing homes is to regain trust.

If we don't increase pay by 4%,

we'll lose viability.

Staff will quit, care quality will decline,

our brand will suffer.

That's ridiculous!

What's ridiculous is the pay scale.

Talk to our backers.

Prioritizing profit led to the Orpea scandal.

They lost millions.

I can't accept these figures.

You'll have to revise them.

And please factor in conversion costs for the director's quarters.

To increase income, we need more residents.

As I already said,

increasing the number of rooms will only add workload.

And I have another idea for how to use that space.

He's gone?

Yes.

- On that note... - Marie-Lou?

Yes?

Be careful, you'll get fired.

"Garden of Freedom" is a flagship.

You have a lot of power compared to other directors.

Some don't see that as a good thing.

The cost of Humanitude training is controversial.

But if you get fired, all that will be over.

So go easy.

- Thanks. - I'm on your side, okay?

Thank you.

See you at the board meeting.

See you there.

I'm on your side too, don't forget.

Do you trust him?

Who knows?

Maybe they're in cahoots to make me fold.

What're you going to do?

Ask for 3%.

If I can get 2.5, that's still something.

You're amazing.

I've got other amazing news for you.

What?

- Doris can't do her shift. - Again?

Her mother's sick. I think it's legit.

Marion and I got on the case.

- We called everyone, but... - I'll do it.

You did yesterday. It's my turn.

No, go home and see your daughter!

Don't worry about me.

Both of you go. I got this.

What about your son?

My son says you need to sleep!

I look that tired?

You look beautiful.

We're in a transition, of course it's rocky.

It's a long haul, we must stick together.

Enjoy.

- Thanks. - You're welcome.

Tomorrow, you have a day off.

I forbid you to come to work.

- Have a nice evening. - You too.

GARDEN OF FREEDOM

Sorry.

Do you have a minute?

Yes.

I'm going to hand in my notice.

Since you took charge, things have changed.

But some of the old attitudes are too ingrained.

The institution handles residents,

and caregivers are considered inferior to nurses.

My colleagues have accepted this.

I know the mentality won't change.

Do you have plans?

I'm turning my house into a small care home.

I can slowly build a care program I believe in.

We'll have more time for each person.

And we'll earn more.

"We"?

Anna is leaving too.

Her nursing degree means we can open our home.

Sorry. I pushed her to take the training course...

If you change your mind, you're always welcome.

Thank you.

Mrs. Duris had a heart attack, she's in critical condition.

Sorry, I took sleeping pills.

I'll come first thing in the morning.

June 7, 2025

Now we fold it back.

The same both sides.

We'll just remove the towel.

Almost done...

Gently.

What happens now?

Would you like to take her belongings?

We're not attached to any of these things.

We can take some of it, but not all.

The rest will go to charity.

Do you handle that?

You just need to sign here.

Reach up nice and tall.

That's great.

Now lower your arms.

Hey.

Hey.

Aren't you off today?

I came for Simone.

I heard. You okay?

Butte du Chapeau Rouge.

Let's stay here together.

Okay?

Let's stay here together.

Tomoki!

Thanks for staying with him.

He was near the tram, I worried he might get hit.

Of course.

Since he had a GPS tracker,

I figured someone would come.

I was scared.

I can't thank you enough.

- Thank you. - You're welcome.

Wait, Tomoki.

- I want to thank her. - It's fine.

Let's say "thank you."

I had a nice time.

Thank you.

See you soon, Tomoki.

Goodbye.

Do you know Théâtre 13?

No.

We have a play there.

If you're interested.

- Sorry, it's all I have. - That's okay.

Is that Italian?

What does the title mean?

"Up close, no one is normal."

Very well put.

- You're an actor? - A director.

He's the actor.

Ms. Morisaki!

Coming.

Goodbye.

June 13, 2025

What's surprising

is that despite advanced early-onset Alzheimer's,

he still managed to find his way home.

Mrs. Murano,

may I ask what you felt at that moment?

I think I was even more shaken

than when he disappeared.

I knew that if he hadn't come home,

it was likely due to Alzheimer's.

He'd just been diagnosed.

Right before he disappeared, his speech had grown less coherent.

Before he came home,

apparently he tried going to his workplace.

But no one recognized him as the former assistant manager.

Either way, the two places he wanted to go

were his former workplace and his home.

I hesitated before coming to talk here.

But in the end I came

so you can know Philippe better.

Since he lives here now.

Thank you for coming.

Maurice?

What was Mr. Murano like as a father?

Not a very good one.

Mom must have Alzheimer's herself to say such nice things.

My father...

was very domineering.

Extremely conceited.

Never listened to others.

Even before, he didn't always come home.

I'd hoped to confront him one day,

but he lost his mind too soon.

If he could hear me, I'd ask him one thing...

What'd you get out of life?

Mr. Murano?

Philippe?

Can we get help, please?

Take them to the infirmary, please.

Thank you.

Off we go.

Can you walk?

Follow me.

That's great.

Nice and slow.

You're going to be fine.

Neither has any fractures.

But Mr. Reinhart has a large bruise.

His family might worry.

If his pain persists, go to the hospital.

- He should be fine, but... - Okay.

Thanks, Ismaël.

What do we tell the families?

Philippe's family was there, they understand.

We'll explain to the Reinharts.

Luckily, it was filmed.

Yes, Sophie?

I'd like to say something.

Go ahead.

I'll never do the Humanitude training.

Your point is?

Humanitude encourages standing and walking, right?

Yes.

Do you realize the danger for residents with cognitive disorders?

If all residents with erratic behavior start moving about, we'll never cope.

Real life isn't a Humanitude manual.

You're wrong Humanitude isn't a manual.

It's an approach that teaches us to consider each individual.

But if there's an accident, we get the blame.

Our policy is made clear to all the families.

What happens if our residents become less dependent?

What do you mean?

If they're mobile, we'll get less funding.

State grants will diminish.

There'll be a higher risk of falls.

How will you hire more staff with less money?

Sophie, in all due respect,

that won't happen.

More residents walking

lowers medical and insurance costs.

It's good for our reputation...

Wait. You don't want residents to improve?

Of course I do!

Ideals are fine, but without more staff,

it's just not realistic.

I think you need the training more than anyone.

Once it's done, you'll be ashamed of your words.

You're so condescending.

Fine.

I quit.

Sophie has agreed to withdraw her resignation.

I don't want to keep someone against their will.

If she resigns, we risk losing other nurses.

You really think so?

Many nurses respect her.

Exactly.

The nursing team thinks that when you became director,

you blocked Sophie from becoming head nurse

So you could implement your new policy.

That's not true.

I agree with your approach,

however...

When I started, she refused my offer and recommended you.

Everyone knows that.

I stopped wearing scrubs because I support your policy.

But some don't.

This won't work if we ignore Sophie.

Laurence, don't worry. I support you.

Thanks, Laurence.

I'll take it from here.

I'm good, thanks.

I hate to tell you this, but...

Sophie has another condition if she's to stay on.

What is it?

An apology from you.

A public apology.

It's up to you.

You talked down to an experienced nurse.

Personally, I think you overreacted.

But your beliefs drive this place.

If you apologize publicly and admit you were wrong,

it could be confusing for certain team members.

I've seen it happen before.

Also...

What?

There are warning signs when someone's close to burnout.

Interrupting.

Shallow breathing.

Not listening to others.

You're too close.

Or you're ignoring the signs.

I'm worried about you. As a friend.

Thank you.

I'll respect your decision.

In short, get some rest.

See you tomorrow.

Is that seat free?

Yes.

Good evening.

My name is Gorô Kiyomiya.

And I am a Japanese actor.

Manicomio is the Italian word for "psychiatric hospital."

Today, in Italy, there are no longer any manicomi.

Did you know that?

I didn't, being rather uncultured.

A man named Franco Basaglia was behind the movement.

He died prematurely at the age of 56.

Basaglia used to ask:

"Are healthy people truly alive?"

I am 75, and still have all my teeth.

I'm in good shape.

How can I know if "healthy people are truly alive"?

Who is truly alive?

Dr. Basaglia!

It's morning. Wake up.

Otherwise, I'll go by myself.

If I go to the hospital and let you sleep,

people will think I'm mad.

Luciano.

You're not my patient anymore.

You are a guest in this home.

Nobody is forcing you to go to the manicomio.

You're not used to this?

Then let's think about

what you've been forced to get used to.

A psychiatric patient re-enters society

and kills his spouse.

It's a pity.

Another kills his parents?

That's possible too.

Because in the manicomio,

the only future they have is death.

Either they kill themselves,

or kill those who imprison them.

They must choose one or the other.

If families,

colleagues,

friends,

society as a whole, all reject the insane,

it will happen again and again.

So should we lock them up?

No.

Are we sane?

Are they crazy?

No!

There is madness in each of us.

Look carefully.

Up close...

no one is normal.

Opening the asylum doors...

That wasn't enough.

We must open up

another possibility

for our world.

Inside and outside,

we must...

mix it all together.

I'm not speaking of utopia.

Twenty years ago,

no one would have believed asylums could be dismantled.

What matters

is that we've shown the impossible can be made possible.

Asylums may eventually return to how they were before.

They may become even more closed than before.

However...

They may become even more closed than before.

However,

one thing will have changed.

"We can do it, if we try."

Nowadays, everyone knows

this simple truth.

To conclude, I'd like you to know

that the people here are now better than any doctor.

The other day,

a taxi driver picked up a fare in Trieste.

Beirut?

That's far away.

It's beyond Turkey.

Do you have enough money?

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...

700 lire.

How did you earn it?

Day laborer?

That's hard work.

Very well, let's head to Beirut.

Why are you so determined to go to Beirut?

I see.

Your sister got married there?

You must miss her.

Believe it or not, I'm from Croatia.

Mind if we swing by my home?

No detours.

Thanks.

We all face difficult trials.

But...

we must go on living.

We're here. We're in Beirut.

Yes, this is it.

For the drive,

300 lire, that'll do.

Hello there, Mr. Basaglia!

I saw your photo in the newspapers.

No, he wanted to go to Beirut, so I brought him here.

You're welcome.

Well then...

Take care.

I'm Lucie Ernaux, programming director.

Thank you. That was wonderful.

Now for a brief discussion. If you have time, do stay.

Please give a warm welcome

to Gorô Kiyomiya and the director, Mari Morisaki.

This is my grandson, Tomoki.

Since everyone is wondering, I wanted to ask

if Tomoki's interruption was unexpected?

Yes and no.

Usually,

when Tomoki attends the show, he ends up on stage.

If he doesn't,

Gorô and I wonder if it was a good performance.

Today, it must have been good.

Right?

Let's take some questions from the audience.

Gorô is much older than Basaglia,

why give him the role?

He's not Italian either.

He plays more than Basaglia.

I've always wanted to work with Gorô.

That's why.

And you, Gorô, when Mari offered you the role,

how did you react?

My grandson Tomoki, who just ran off,

has severe autism.

He grew up in institutions not dissimilar to psychiatric hospitals.

His parents didn't get along well.

For a long time,

I wasn't sure I had the right to step in.

Then one day, when I was visiting him,

I realized I had to take him with me.

Because in that place,

I felt he wasn't treated like a human being with a soul.

That's why,

when I was offered this role,

I genuinely wanted to play it.

Hearing you now, I realize

the play could have been staged in French.

Is that an option?

Right now,

to make the most of our discussion time,

and out of respect for the audience,

I'm speaking French.

But to express emotion,

nothing rivals the mother tongue.

Hence, Japanese.

Sorry.

Any other questions?

Thank you.

That was wonderful.

It really moved me.

No, it pierced my heart.

I'm glad to hear that.

Thank you.

No, thank you.

I'm the director of a nursing home.

Which means every theme in your play

spoke to me personally.

But...

witnessing the impossible made possible,

was painful too.

I realized that I still have a long way to go.

Do you really think

that the impossible

can be possible?

What she just said is...

The impossible is not possible.

But only until it becomes possible.

It's only when we find the path

from the impossible to the possible,

that we realize it always existed.

But for that to happen, you must try.

In French!

I was told

that I had cancer and only six months to live.

But a year has passed since then.

Sometimes I hope that I'm cured,

then I do more tests,

and I'm sad as the results are still bad.

It'd be wonderful if the impossible were possible.

Abolishing psychiatric wards seems unthinkable in Japan.

But...

knowing that someone has actually shattered stereotypes

gives you a lot of courage,

and I wanted to share that with others.

But honestly,

I chose this subject because I needed courage

for myself.

Does that answer you?

Yes.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Sorry.

What I just said was...

No need to translate.

I think there's no need to translate.

From the sound of their voices,

you can tell they shared something important.

I think that's enough.

We'll leave it there for today.

Mari, Gorô, thank you.

Thank you.

Tomoki?

We meet again.

- You came. - Yes.

Marie-Lou Fontaine.

- I'm "Mari" too. - Yes, I saw in the program.

Let's not be formal, okay?

Sure. Which language?

I don't mind.

That was wonderful.

Can I ask you a question?

Do you mind waiting for me?

I'll go for a smoke outside.

Why give instruments to the audience?

Tomoki often...

Tomoki, see you soon.

...I wanted to break the boundary.

Thank you.

Sorry.

You had lots of people to talk to.

I was afraid you'd left.

I said I'd wait.

What shall we do? Walk a bit?

Sure.

Thank you.

No, thank you.

I'm glad I came.

Also for the other day.

Thanks again.

You're welcome.

Tomoki often runs off,

but I didn't expect it here...

"Runs off," as in disappears?

Yes, why?

He likes running about too. I wasn't sure I'd understood.

Right...

Tomoki cheered me up the other day.

Please thank him.

How come you speak Japanese so well?

I did my master's at Waseda.

- What subject? - Anthropology.

And you became director of a nursing home.

Yes.

So how come you speak French?

I studied philosophy at the Sorbonne.

Wow.

- Now you're a stage director. - Yes.

I have so many questions!

Same here.

Can I start?

Ask me anything you like.

Who are you?

Who am I?

You speak Japanese,

have a master's in anthropology,

you run a nursing home,

and you connected with Tomoki.

Who are you?

That's a tough one.

Sorry.

I learned Japanese studying for my master's.

But I haven't spoken in a while,

so l'm pretty rusty.

You can't tell. But if you prefer French, just say.

I've always been fascinated by Japan.

- Thanks to my mother. - Really?

She was an illustrator.

She collected ukiyo-e prints

and I loved Japanese anime.

Miyazaki, Takahata...

I discovered them before they were big in France.

- Even Takahata? - Yes, Pom Poko.

Pom Poko!

I dreamed of going to Japan,

so, having studied Mauss's The Gift,

I changed my subject to...

"Corporate culture as the root of demographic decline."

- Serious stuff. - Yes.

I realized capitalism inevitably leads to low birthrates and aging populations.

Japan's a prime example.

So I decided to do a field study.

I even worked for an insurance company.

Really?

Then came the earthquake.

The power plant exploded.

My mother begged me to come home.

I would have liked to stay.

Deciphering the ambiguous and complex codes of Japanese society

truly fascinated me.

Maybe it was better that way.

You didn't see what Japan became.

Did you?

Yes.

I returned when you left,

one year after the earthquake.

I realized I'd gone as far as I could in France.

How so?

I couldn't compete with other directors in French.

Despite being fluent?

- Can I back up a bit? - Sure.

Why does capitalism inevitably lead to low birthrates and aging populations?

It's a long story.

I'm all ears.

As capitalism developed,

workers were getting paid

just enough to sustain them to come back the next day.

They became consumers, guaranteed 3 meals a day.

With their nutritional needs met

and with technological innovation,

particularly in the medical field,

life expectancy increased

and the population started aging.

That's the upside of capitalism.

- But it's only one aspect. - Yes.

Can I switch to French?

Of course.

Let me know if you struggle.

For capitalists,

the less they pay workers, the better.

To make their goods more competitive.

Exactly. The drop in labor costs

stems partly from competition among workers.

But mainly, and almost automatically,

from technological innovations driven by capitalism.

Progress makes work easier, but also devalues it.

Which pushes down wages.

Right.

To preserve their standard of living, consumers must work longer hours.

Gradually, personal time gets sold.

Right.

Unpaid overtime, working side gigs...

Exactly.

Originally, free time was meant...

for nurturing relationships or for resting.

But in the end, it was gobbled up by the capitalist system.

People no longer have time or energy to raise children.

With fewer births, the base of the population pyramid narrows.

Globally, especially in cities.

I see.

The trend is so pronounced in Japan and Korea

due to the strong ties between patriarchy and capitalism.

Meaning?

Those countries had a pre-existing culture

of obedience to authority figures.

In France, people rebel when asked to give up free time.

True.

But it happens anyway, in every capitalist society.

As capital keeps expanding and never stops.

That's why low birthrates and an aging population

are the inevitable consequence of capitalism.

And Japan is a prime example.

You got it.

And France is following suit.

Do anthropologists also read Marx?

Like him or hate him,

it's a key rite of passage.

And philosophers?

I'd say the same.

But I'm not a philosopher.

What drew you to theater?

I wanted to put philosophy to use rather than theorize.

Did it get on my face?

Mine too?

- Here. - Thanks.

I'll help.

A Japanese person with sanitizing wipes.

What a cliché, right?

I don't know, but thank you.

In Japan, we say it brings good luck.

That's some comfort.

I got splattered on my first day in Paris.

Mari, who are you?

That's a tough one.

I know, right?

A director who draws on philosophy...

And a cancer patient at death's door.

A bit of a conversation-stopper.

You're very unexpected.

Where's the cancer at?

Thank you.

Why?

For asking.

I had breast cancer five years ago.

At the time, I had a mastectomy, then a reconstruction,

and that was that.

Two years ago, it returned.

Metastasized to my liver and bones.

I've done every possible treatment,

but it's not going very well.

You mean that...

From what I understand, it won't kill me right away.

With careful planning,

and if I accept the risk, I can even go on tour.

The risk...

My doctor warned me

I could go downhill all of a sudden.

All of a sudden?

Apparently, once it begins,

it will go very quickly.

At worst, three weeks.

At best, three months.

Is everyone aware of this?

The crew, yes. Gorô too.

But I haven't made it public.

So, earlier...

It was the first time in public.

I saw how deeply it resonated for you.

- Me? - Yes.

So I wanted to tell you.

That we were the same.

That I was fighting too.

But then Gorô stepped in.

Thank you.

So...

To answer your question,

I am a terminal cancer patient,

but that's not all I am.

I fight to be more than that.

I will keep fighting, whatever the odds.

And I believe my weapons

include theater and philosophy.

I think I understand.

Because you're fighting too?

With anthropology?

Probably.

Against what?

A system.

A system?

- A kôzô? - Yes.

Go ahead. It might be an emergency.

Thanks.

Hello?

Yes?

What's up?

No need to contact Olivier.

You...

If no one's available, I got this.

Tell Djibril to wait 30 minutes. We'll start rounds

when I get there. Okay?

Yes.

Okay.

Head up.

I have to go.

- Night shift? - Yes.

We're short-staffed.

- And the director fills in? - Yep.

- I'm sorry. - Don't be.

It's just a shame.

I don't want this night to end.

Yes.

I don't want to leave you either.

It's the first time I've ever said that!

Me too.

Yes?

It's me.

Did you see a staff member?

No.

He was supposed to be on break.

What's this place?

Former director's quarters.

A hundred years ago,

whether they liked it or not, hospital directors had to live here.

Now, it's a nap room. Sometimes I sleep here.

And it holds the belongings of deceased residents.

Want one?

Are you hungry?

A little, yes.

There should be...

some soup.

And bread.

Don't you need to work?

I've finished rounds and I have a buzzer.

Can I help?

Thanks.

Soup's up there.

Earlier,

you said you were fighting a system.

Yes.

What kind of system?

I want to hear more.

Imagine there's a problem.

A solution is found to fix it.

But that creates more problems. And on it goes.

I feel like I'm fighting a monster,

whose wounds always heal over.

To move forward, I must attack the root.

I realize that now.

What's the root?

Lack of money?

I don't know...

Healthcare is chronically understaffed.

Especially in private care where work conditions are worse.

Hiring and retaining staff is hard.

You can't afford to raise salaries?

No.

Unless senior executives take a pay cut.

I may be the director, but I'm still an employee.

Manager of a franchise.

I have some power, but if I go too far, I'll get fired.

So I can't afford to increase staff salaries.

Normally, subsidies should fill the gap.

But aid goes primarily

to residents with high dependency.

If we admit more highly dependent residents,

it creates more work and we need more staff.

That's tough.

Yes.

There's another pitfall.

Another pitfall?

As director,

if you don't yield results, you'll quickly be fired.

So it's tempting to fake it,

to fudge the numbers.

And it's very easy.

What do you mean?

Most residents have cognitive disorders,

easy to treat as mere objects.

If we force "care" on them, factory-style, the system works.

They can't complain.

Do the minimum,

undress them, wash them like vegetables,

feed them liquids, like pouring food down a sink.

That system works.

On the surface.

Exactly.

Establishments like that are financially viable.

But it's not sustainable and neglects what's essential.

That's the care my mother got.

She didn't just call me home because of the earthquake.

She was 65 when I returned, with early-onset Alzheimer's.

Within a year, her brain deteriorated massively.

She became a different person.

She had savings, so I put her in an expensive home.

I didn't know anything then.

Paying big bucks doesn't necessarily mean quality care.

Each visit, I saw her declining, physically and mentally.

Soon, she could no longer walk or recognize me.

She aged dramatically.

I knew something was off.

I decided to research care homes.

Another field study.

I studied caregiving for a year because tuition was free...

if you worked at certain institutions upon graduating.

Thanks.

But it was too late.

One month before graduation,

my mom stopped eating.

She died at the age of 67.

I see.

After her death, I planned to stop...

but just before I graduated,

I took a Humanitude course at the school.

I took a Humanitude course at the school.

Do you know it?

Humanitude?

Never heard of it.

The idea is to consider each patient as a human being.

Not just in theory, but with concrete techniques.

So anyone can learn and apply it.

See the mind and soul inside every cognitive patient.

Protect their freedom and dignity.

With Humanitude, I realized that my mother died...

from my ignorance.

What does it involve?

This technique.

Most of these disorders weaken brain function.

Which leads to cognitive decline.

But we shouldn't see patients as unable to communicate.

Instead, caregivers must adapt their technique.

Someone's buzzing me.

Room 328. It's Micheline.

Want to come?

- May I? - Yes.

Hello Micheline, it's Marie-Lou.

I'm happy to see you.

Thanks for calling me.

What time is it?

It's 3 o'clock.

If it's 3 o'clock, I must pick up my son.

Don't worry, I'm sure he's on his way.

We'll wait here.

Would you like to freshen up?

Take my hands, I'll help you up.

Let me know if I can help.

There you go.

Hold on to the railing.

I'll get you changed.

I'll remove your underwear. Can you lift your nightgown?

Thank you.

Can you give me a hand?

Thanks.

Micheline, this is my dear friend.

Her name's Mari.

She's going to help us.

Mari, introduce yourself and describe everything I do.

Clear and gentle.

- Hello, Micheline. - Come closer.

Look into her eyes. Closer.

Put your hand on her shoulder.

Hello, Micheline. My name is Mari.

I'm delighted to meet you.

Marie-Lou is preparing to wash you.

She's holding the shower.

She's checking the water temperature.

Her expression says: "It's just right."

There.

I'll rinse her knees. Can she say if it's too hot?

Marie-Lou will rinse your knees.

If it's too hot, let us know.

Can she lift her nightgown a little higher?

Can you lift your nightgown?

Thank you.

I'll work up slowly.

Marie-Lou will work her way up.

Okay?

Micheline?

I'm very happy to meet you.

There we go.

Thanks for letting me help you. I'll get a towel to dry you off.

Are you okay?

Mari, can you check the bed?

Thank you.

The bed is fine,

but there's water on the floor.

Can you wipe it up?

One foot...

the other one...

You're all set.

You can let go. I've got you.

That's better.

Let's go.

You can go back to sleep.

I'm here.

The moon's lovely. Is it too bright?

Close your eyes.

I'll go now. See you tomorrow.

Mari, can you turn off the flashlight? Thanks.

At the crystal fountain

Strolling by on a whim

The water was so lovely

I jumped in for a swim

Oh how I've always loved you

Never will I forget you

- Would you like a tour? - Sure.

Maybe the bright moonlight made her think it was day.

Micheline?

Maybe.

Their perception of time is fundamentally different.

While we see time as a solid line,

for people with Alzheimer's, it's like a dotted line.

I see.

Was that Humanitude?

Exactly.

It's easier with two people.

To be honest, it seemed like simple, natural care.

And this...

is the dining hall.

There are four Humanitude pillars.

Gaze, touch, speech and verticality.

- Verticality? - Yes.

Standing upright and walking.

Communication with disoriented people

requires eye contact, speech and touch.

First, look.

You must hold their gaze correctly.

Close up.

Like this.

So close?

Yes.

People with diseases like Alzheimer's have a reduced sensory field.

If you touch them without warning, they may feel attacked

from outside their field of vision.

In defense, they resist.

Which is when caregivers may become rough.

Always alert them to your presence

by standing in their field of vision.

If possible, with a smile.

Establish contact...

only then do we touch.

Okay.

May I touch you?

Yes.

The hands...

and face...

are highly sensitive zones.

If the patient is apprehensive, they may overreact.

So we always start by touching

less sensitive spots, like shoulders,

or the back...

Makes sense.

Sometimes during care, you have to leave their field of vision.

You must keep talking...

and maintain touch,

all the while narrating what you're doing.

Like background music.

As I did earlier.

In a cheerful voice,

always conveying we're happy to see them.

With at least two of the three pillars,

gaze, speech and touch,

we can reactivate their cognitive abilities.

We can even communicate.

Then, for the first time,

the caregiver realizes

that the patient still has their mind and intelligence.

Mari?

Marie-Lou, it's not your fault

that your mother died.

Thank you.

From what you say...

Yes?

It sounds like Humanitude has only advantages.

So what's the problem?

If it's so great, why doesn't everyone use it?

Because it's expensive.

Always the same old song.

The core of Humanitude is paying attention to others.

Engaging in a human relationship with them.

Engaging in a relationship...

I'm happy to see you.

All of this reduces resistant behavior.

If care isn't forced, it leaves a good impression

and the next session is easier.

In the long run, if everyone does it, we save time.

Ultimately, it reduces use of medication

and lowers healthcare costs.

So it's economical?

Yes, but only if everyone does it.

I see.

Yes.

If one person is gentle, but the next caregiver is rough...

defenses go back up.

Training isn't necessarily expensive,

but training everyone...

Starts to add up.

I'd like to speed things up,

but there's only so much I can do.

Training is my top budget priority.

At present, half of the staff is trained

and in two years, everyone will be.

Two years.

You're halfway there.

Tell me,

what about the last pillar: "verticality"?

The others allow communication,

but verticality concerns the patient's life itself.

Being able to stand and walk is the basis of human freedom.

True.

So we do our best to encourage verticality.

Standing helps maintain muscle mass,

while walking increases awareness of mental stimuli.

Patients are able to think for longer.

Isn't it dangerous to walk with cognitive impairment?

Of course. There's always a risk of falling.

We're obviously very careful.

All families are informed of our policy before admissions.

Some families don't want to take any risks.

A risk-free life, eh?

Yep.

In Humanitude-based institutions,

many residents walk until the day they die.

Being bedridden isn't inevitable, it results from care policy.

When did you become director here?

Two years ago.

I was a caregiver, then moved to senior posts...

But I realized change required structural shifts.

So I took a management course at night school.

Do you have support?

Yes. Hang on...

There.

My assistant director.

We studied caregiving together.

Some of the caregiving assistants...

And our coordinators.

- Coordinators? - Animâtâ, in Japanese.

They organize workshops and recreational activities on site.

They made this photo chart, for example.

He looks kind.

Yes.

In my opinion,

the best thing about Humanitude

is that by helping others, we avoid hurting ourselves.

I see.

It also decreases burnout

and staff resignations.

Can I step out for a smoke?

Sure.

Aching to make it Before it's too late

Gotta break out Do gigs, shout out

More than one problem But only one hood

Days in scrubs Nights don't sleep good

My flow is surgical My rap too urgent now

But am I losing it too?

Will I get like them? Will folk help me then?

Can't save everyone...

Let's make some coffee.

Who dies without a sound

Djibril! Djibril!

Are you sleepy?

No, I'm fine.

My mind is racing, actually.

Do you want to rest?

I'm someone who doesn't need much sleep.

That doesn't exist!

I'll sleep tomorrow.

Getting back to your mission...

Can we dig a little deeper?

While the coffee's brewing.

Unless it bores you?

Do I look bored?

Earlier, you said:

"Capitalism inevitably leads to demographic decline."

I realized something.

The Japanese economic boom was dependent

upon the sacrifice of a future workforce.

In the Lost Decades that followed,

the next generation had to pay the price.

What had to happen happened.

This led me to think:

Capitalism is merely a system...

that makes us think everything is fine here and now.

Here and now?

Every city in the world

draws the workers and consumers required by capitalists.

The hubs of capitalism

where goods are made and distributed.

As consumers, this makes us feel more prosperous.

But, as workers, our main role, we feel exhausted.

Now, let's look...

at what lies outside this place.

The Outside, where resources are expropriated

to use in the Here and Now.

It's also where we dump waste generated by production-consumption.

Outside includes...

the countryside,

the Global South,

and the poor.

But, above all,

nature itself.

Until the 20th century,

nature was considered a gigantic dumping ground,

infinitely capable of storing and decomposing.

So we dumped everything there.

Including the problems of capitalism.

We thought nature would endlessly replenish itself.

But it turned out

this processing capacity wasn't infinite.

When capitalism overreached its limits,

pollution and climate problems began.

It reminds me of death from overwork in Japan.

Karôshi.

Yes.

Society is polluted too.

Forcing people to work without time to recuperate.

Absolutely.

The human body is the closest we have to nature.

The body gets tired. It needs sleep.

We get irritable. We need to recuperate.

But capitalism pushes us to ignore our bodies' signals.

All capitalists

want a superhuman workforce.

So, in other words,

"not needing to sleep"

is a clear sign that you've over-adapted to society.

If populations are aging and birthrates declining,

it's because the time allocated for physical and mental recovery,

in other words, our free time,

has been recognized by capitalism as Outside.

Free time is an expendable Outside element.

Exactly.

Infinite growth is a capitalist illusion

based on stealing Outside resources

and adding them to the Here and Now.

Capitalism therefore only works in the Here and Now.

And requires Outside to be infinite.

But it's not.

Right.

Capitalism needs nature in order to exist.

So in theory, once it has exceeded nature's capacity,

it must self-regulate to avoid collapse.

If it doesn't, its very existence is threatened.

Yet it shows no signs of self-regulation.

So the Outside is running out,

while the Here and Now is shrinking.

What was Here and Now becomes Outside.

Rising inequality in cities,

poverty...

And political instability.

Support for liberal parties is city-based

in developed countries across the world.

Result:

our governments become more conservative.

Why?

Because the Outside has a higher population

and democracy only works in cities.

Why is this the case?

Because, just as capitalism

requires nature to exist...

our current democracy also relies on capitalism.

Democracy relies on the profits of capitalism.

They are one and the same.

Unfortunately, the democratic ideal,

freedom and equality for every citizen,

only works where capitalism thrives.

People relegated to the Outside by capitalism

feel anger and contempt

toward city dwellers lecturing them about democracy.

City dwellers use Outsiders as cogs in the system

without realizing it.

Worse, they look down on Outsiders,

intellectually and morally.

Which is why Outsiders are using the self-same system

to destroy this hypocrisy and confront city dwellers with reality.

I can't help thinking this makes some sort of sense.

Are you...

insinuating something?

You think Humanitude is like a democratic ideal?

A pretty façade held together by money.

That's not what I said.

I'm just trying to clarify the situation.

Okay.

The face of a...

colleague springs to mind.

Sorry.

No worries.

Go on.

Thank you.

I didn't finish before the coffee was ready.

Today, capitalism seeks a new Outside.

But it's not easy.

What's starting to happen

is a major reconfiguration of the Outside.

In other words,

war.

Yes.

Here and Now will be safe again

once it's over.

At least for a while.

Personally, I don't hate capitalism.

I've found solace

in the arts and culture that wouldn't exist without it.

But?

I think, despite everything, that capitalism

is intrinsically self-destructive.

Ultimately, it will consume itself.

When it can no longer find new Outsides,

failure is inevitable.

It's only a matter of time.

Fortunately or unfortunately,

I'll be dead before this society collapses.

So who knows if there's a happy ending?

It doesn't feel like you're about to die.

That's because I'm talking with you.

I feel better than I have in ages.

Thank you.

I see much clearer now.

Our system exhausts us,

yet, we choose to keep the system running.

Can we break the cycle?

I don't know.

To say yes would be lying.

Not while we belong to this society.

Yes.

But it gave me an idea.

What?

What?

By focusing on money issues, I remain a prisoner of the system.

Probably.

The first pitfall is believing that more money

can solve things.

Right, there is no path

from the impossible to the possible within this system.

I understand that now.

I just don't know what comes next.

- You scared me! - Sorry.

I'm late.

It's okay, but... how long have you been here?

I overheard "war"...

but not your conversation.

I can't understand her.

Alright.

Do you still want to take your break?

No. I'm okay.

- Marie-Lou? - Yes?

I'd like to smoke.

- Could I have a cigarette? - Yes.

See you later?

See you later.

Is there a similar system in theater?

Conflict between money and what you'd like to do?

Of course.

But I don't fight like you do.

If the play is small enough,

I don't need to worry about budget constraints.

A play touring abroad is small?

This play has a good budget.

But when it comes to theater,

all it takes is one actor

and one spectator for it to work.

I can return to that any time.

One of our caregivers is leaving

to open a small care facility at home.

Perhaps it's the same.

Scaling down in order to live with yourself.

Yes.

That's one solution.

It's true.

But...

you wouldn't be happy going it alone.

Right?

If you could make the impossible possible here,

that's what you'd like, right?

Am I being too heavy?

No.

Let's keep on fighting.

Together.

Okay.

Can you believe it's only been half a day since the play?

Really?

What is time, anyway?

Good question.

The night's almost over.

Almost.

Thank you.

This has been very special for me.

Me too.

It's like I was in a fog and now...

it's clearing.

Though I'm still a little lost.

Do you want to sleep a bit?

Can I?

June 14, 2025

Could I have one?

It'll kill you.

You're right.

Excuse me...

I might be wrong, but...

I think I saw your play the other night.

- Really? - It was wonderful.

Thank you.

I stayed for the talk, so I recognized you.

I'm Damien, a coordinator.

Damien, the coordinator, I'm Mari.

Your play gave me a lot of hope.

How so?

This courtyard is a remnant of the time

when this was a psychiatric hospital.

It's a place that's both

closed and open, open, yet closed.

Your play made me wonder if we could make better use of it.

Hello.

Good morning.

More like afternoon.

Did you sleep?

You're unreal.

What's going on?

Damien saw my play.

Seriously?

I couldn't believe it.

I kept thinking about the play...

then out of the blue, here's Mari!

I went to talk to her and...

I couldn't help meddling.

You gave advice.

They were all hunched forward.

That stops oxygen from reaching the lungs.

If the brain doesn't get enough oxygen,

it starts thinking less clearly.

This is so nice, I could fall asleep.

Some people already have.

Alright, everyone?

It's over.

It's late, but if you're hungry,

we could go to the cafeteria?

- Am I allowed? - Sure.

You'll see, it's not bad.

- Really? - I thought it was you.

I wanted to say...

Hello.

- Sorry we took so long. - It's fine.

The crew only told me after the performance.

Have you spoken to her?

Not yet.

She's still on morphine, asleep.

How is she?

I don't know the details.

Does she have any family?

Her parents are dead.

I don't think she has any brothers or sisters.

- Sorry, he's my grandson. - This is a hospital.

He has to quiet down.

I'm sorry.

He's reacting to your aggression.

Your voice is loud too.

Come on.

He was calm before...

Come along now.

Do you recognize me?

It's Marie-Lou.

I know.

Where's Tomoki?

He's fine. He's with Gorô.

And so it begins.

Damn it all.

June 16, 2025

The best hospice is near your country house.

When can you go there?

If possible, I'd like to take one more week.

Three days would be better.

The illness won't wait.

From now on, your body calls the shots.

Your condition could change rapidly from one week to the next.

You've got a very strong will.

I know that.

But that won't stop your body from declining.

Don't hurry back. You deserve a break.

If I'm not at the meeting, Sophie will think I ran away.

I'll set her straight.

You haven't missed a day in two years.

She'll understand.

I'll be back in two days.

I'll send my notes for the meeting, tell me what you think.

While you're there, you should visit Kobe.

Taste the Kobe beef.

Right.

Right.

Gotta go.

- I'll email you. - Sleep!

Sure.

Thanks, goodbye.

Leave the bags there.

Thanks.

Sorry.

If you don't mind, I'll go to bed.

I'm so drowsy.

Of course.

Can I prepare you a futon?

I'd like that.

They're in the closet.

You know how to do it?

I had a Japanese boyfriend. I got this.

Now you tell me!

You hungry?

Not at all.

Want to order food?

Is there a store nearby? I could cook.

Not around here.

There's microwave meals in the cupboard.

I don't think they've expired.

And some beer, I think.

I'll just grab a beer.

In the fridge.

Well?

- Thanks. - Would you like one?

No, thanks.

Are you in pain?

No, it's just in case.

I keep it close, for when it starts hurting.

Did you get any sleep?

A little. On the plane.

Really?

You seemed pretty busy on the plane.

Actually, I will have a sip.

When's your flight tomorrow?

At 8 PM from Haneda.

Okay.

I would've liked to stay longer...

Don't worry.

I know that's easy to say.

But I'm glad you're worried about me.

And I'm happy you came here.

Me too.

I'm very glad I could come.

You okay?

Come here.

What?

You can keep your beer.

Sit down.

You're super tense.

Have you ever had a foot massage?

No.

No, my feet are all dirty!

They're fine.

- So? - It hurts!

That's the lungs.

You should quit smoking.

Is this reflexology?

My own version.

Where it hurts, there's an imbalance.

That's bad news.

Why?

Hemorrhoids.

Sorry.

Meanie!

- Alright, I'll go easy! - My turn.

Give me your foot.

Is that okay?

My organs aren't doing great.

So go easy.

Sure.

Marie-Lou,

you should relax a little.

Trying to say something?

It's only when you relax, that you can feel inside yourself

even the slightest strengths.

Now, lie on your back.

I never knew anything could feel so good.

I won't go to bed until you fall asleep.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Could you get up?

Yes?

I'd like to take you somewhere.

There's my house.

Imagine, two days ago, we were in Paris.

What am I doing on a mountain in Kyoto?

Sometimes strange things happen.

Makes me wonder.

In high school, I had a friend named Yayoi.

We met in middle school and, over time,

we realized we were both misfits and we bonded.

We used to go into town to watch Godard films.

Right.

We both had complicated families.

And we swore to leave this city.

We planned to move to Tokyo together.

Hey, Siri.

Timer for 2.5 minutes.

But for me...

I could only apply to universities in Kyoto.

And Yayoi failed the Tokyo entrance exam,

so she stayed here.

I passed the Kyoto exam,

but decided to go to Tokyo instead.

I worked 3 years in a bar and saved up.

Then went to Paris to study.

I see.

Five years ago,

I did a play in Kyoto and Yayoi came to see it.

She's a city councilor now.

She said the play went over her head and left laughing.

Since then, she comes whenever I stage in Kyoto.

She always says she doesn't get it and leaves laughing.

Some things we desire elude us,

others are handed to us when we least expect it.

Curious, isn't it?

I want to keep talking with you.

Me too.

I still know nothing about you.

Not talking about the past, but the future.

Yes.

But I don't know what to say.

Are you scared?

Of what?

Dying.

Thank you for that.

What do you mean?

For being brave enough.

Of course I'm scared.

I know what lies ahead.

I've done more research than I should have.

No more miracles.

My only option,

is to ease the pain

and disappear from this world.

Without leaving a trace.

So...

it's not so much fear I feel.

It's frustration.

Mari?

Come back to Paris with me.

Come to our home.

I'll arrange everything.

We're well-equipped.

There's a hospital right next door.

We work with a palliative care team.

And above all, I'll be there.

Staying in Japan would be the easier choice.

Perhaps less painful.

Despite that, I'd like you to choose me.

I can no longer choose.

The die is already cast.

I like it al dente.

Me too.

June 19, 2025

Today,

we have lots to cover. What's first?

- Can I start? - Go ahead.

I'd like to take this moment to apologize

for things I said to Sophie

at our last meeting, and also other times.

Sophie, I am truly sorry

for the disrespectful things I said to you.

I've always greatly respected your work.

I hope you can forgive me

and that we can keep working together.

Let's put it behind us.

Thank you.

Great.

Let bygones be bygones.

We still have

many points to discuss.

Regarding the former director's quarters,

we're launching a new initiative.

Our coordinator team will host an artist in residence.

The internationally acclaimed stage director, Mari Morisaki.

This is an incredible opportunity for our institution.

Mari will live onsite in one of the four vacant rooms.

She'll work with our coordinators

to develop projects and workshops for residents.

I'd like to make something clear.

Mari is also fighting stage 4 cancer.

We're in contact with the adjacent hospital

and palliative team to ensure Mari can work in the best conditions.

I'm very happy to live at the Garden of Freedom.

Welcome, Mari.

Now, for the next project.

We would like to create, as a test-run,

a coffee shop in this cafeteria.

The concept would be similar to "inclusive cafés,"

but adapted to elderly people with cognitive impairment.

Service would be provided by residents.

The goal is to ensure they get exercise,

either standing or walking!

What about caregivers?

Who will watch over them?

This will only involve residents

who can move about without constant assistance.

Coordinator interns and family volunteers

will offer support.

This won't involve additional work for the care team.

This is ridiculous.

Why?

If there's a fall...

who's responsible?

You'll blame the volunteers?

No, the directors hold responsibility.

We're not making this suggestion lightly.

We'll hear your thoughts, then we'll decide.

The idea behind these projects...

is to blur boundaries between inside and outside the institution.

And lessen the distinction between care staff and residents.

That's a sham.

There is a distinction!

That's why we have state certification.

What do you think "professional" means?

Let me explain our reasoning.

As administrators, we realize we must accept our limitations.

From now on, Humanitude training

will happen every six months, instead of four.

We want to lighten the burden on the care team.

This means...

our goal of training all staff in Humanitude

is delayed by over a year.

We hope this will provide breathing room.

We're convinced this is the right direction,

but we need to face facts.

Staff shouldn't bear the brunt of our new policies.

I'd like to apologize

for acting too hastily and for the load

that placed on you all.

Exhaustion causes care quality to go downhill.

The decision we've made...

is to stop pretending that we have something we don't.

Which leads us to conclude

that we must accept our limitations

and seek help from outside.

We can no longer rely on state funding alone.

We need the support of the local community,

of residents' families,

anyone who's keen to help.

We must change together.

Little by little.

Over the long haul.

I would like...

to underline two things.

Firstly, despite a decline in perception,

for people with cognitive impairment,

their mind and intellect continue to exist.

They don't experience time

in a linear manner, like we do,

but as a dotted line.

These aren't just dots.

Each refers to a memory that remains

extremely vivid to them.

Which is why they may, suddenly,

want to return to an old workplace

or buy groceries for dinner.

As if they're always time-traveling.

What happens if we insist on correcting them?

Of course they're upset, even terrified.

Of course they're upset, even terrified.

What happens if we grab their wrist?

Of course they resist.

Every caregiver

knows the surprising strength of patients when they struggle.

Once we've grasped their relationship to time,

we realize our main duty

is to reassure, not restrain.

Otherwise,

our behavior triggers their resistance.

The second point...

concerns their physical state.

I joined the care profession

after my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's.

She declined very quickly

and died two years after the disease appeared.

A month before she died, as I held her hand,

I was surprised to feel how little strength she had left.

She wasn't herself anymore, as if she'd already gone.

Still, today, I hold the hands of dying residents

and I feel

how little strength they have left.

But every caregiver familiar with death knows this:

the flame of life burns until the very end.

Their organs function. Their bodies are warm.

We feel strength in their hands, no matter how slight.

It sounds obvious, but until they die, they're alive.

If there's one thing I'd tell my younger self,

who deemed my mother's hand inert...

it's that being a professional means recognizing that slightest force.

Yes, we are professionals,

but that doesn't mean we can solve things.

Because...

neither cognitive impairment, nor aging, nor death, can be solved.

When we acquire techniques and expertise,

we also learn their limitations.

But all's not lost.

What we can do

is help them preserve the vital force they have left.

Make sure they use that force, not to struggle,

but to live.

Take that risk.

We're here to help you.

What we hold in our hands is worth it.

I'm happy to change along with you.

She's always been good at speeches.

That's how she recruited me, back in the day.

Back to our inclusive café...

Our aim is to help residents feel

connected to the outside world...

Yes, Adidja?

When will the rooms become available to rent?

Are you interested?

Yes, I'm losing my apartment soon, but...

What?

I wondered, can my family come with me?

No, as we said,

they're only for people living alone.

I see.

June 21, 2025

Leo?

Sorry.

- His name's Leo? - Yes.

He's cute!

He should be in your room.

I know, he escaped.

Here you go.

- Thank you, ma'am. - Call me Mari.

We're roommates now.

- What's your name? - Adidja.

Nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you.

So...

My name is Mari.

Starting today, I'll be leading physical workshops.

Our goal today

is to rediscover the strength and sensations we have inside.

Let's start by walking.

Hello.

You won't fall. You have support.

You won't fall. You have support.

Try to look up.

You'll see lots of things.

Walk as slowly as possible.

The grass tickles a bit, but it feels nice.

- Good morning. - Hello.

I see more mobile residents than in other homes.

Yes.

Our policy encourages standing and walking.

But the number of falls has increased.

We chose to minimize the risks.

Meaning?

We feel that preventing residents from walking

poses a far higher risk.

The rise in falls is temporary.

Our goal is to create a humane environment

that lets people take risks

in the safest way possible.

That's what justifies

the pay raises requested by our director.

We'll see what we can do.

Today,

we have a new format:

Residents and their families

get a chance to meet our care staff.

Hello!

Our guest today is Djibril,

one of our caregivers, whom you all know.

Djibril, can you introduce yourself?

Sure.

My name is Djibril Saïdi.

I'm 26.

I was born near Paris,

but before that, my parents lived in Algeria.

Our feet support our bodies,

but we tend to ignore them.

Massage them,

to give them some comfort.

Thank you, Micheline.

If you see feet available,

massage them.

Why did you become a caregiver?

I was looking for a job with night shifts.

There's downtime at night, so I can write lyrics.

But I do really love my job.

Maybe it's because

I was close to my grandma.

All the residents are really nice to me.

And I care about them a lot.

- Look at your fan club. - We all love you.

Well done, Djibril!

Thank you.

Shall we talk in my office?

The inspectors really loved our energy.

They say it's rare in care homes.

They're concerned about safety,

but agree it's promising.

Thank you

I loved your workshop

Thanks, it was fun doing it

It made me want to join in

I'd love that!

How's the move going?

I've just packed enough for one week

My stuff won't all fit there anyway

I hope you're not moving just for me

No, that's not why

Me and my mom

You look so alike!

Who is that?

My ex-husband

I still know nothing about you

Made you laugh? Absolutely

Good, now I can delete that photo

June 23, 2025

May I ask what you're up to?

Over there, you have futons. Here, a sofa.

Join us for a nap?

No, thank you.

In that case...

Tomoki!

This is Tomoki.

This is Vanessa. And he's Damien.

- Nice to meet you, Tomoki. - Nice to meet you.

Tomoki?

Let me present Philippe.

Philippe, meet Tomoki.

He's a dear friend.

Tomoki, will you take Philippe's hand?

Swing...

Philippe, relax.

They get along well.

Ms. Morisaki?

Ms. Morisaki?

Get a wheelchair.

Thank you, Sophie.

You're welcome.

I get the impression you don't like Marie-Lou.

I don't let my feelings affect my work.

Why do you dislike her?

Sophie?

Sing me a lullaby...

until I fall asleep.

Sophie?

Please.

I feel myself sinking.

At the crystal fountain

Strolling by on a whim

The water was so lovely

I jumped in for a swim

It's like a dream.

Absolutely.

I am your dream.

Well spotted.

What time is it?

It's 9 PM.

I have to pack.

So I can't stay long.

I understand.

Will this be your first time in southern France?

No.

I've been to Nice and Avignon.

As a student, then for work.

But Marseille will be a first.

Right.

That's exciting.

Where's Tomoki?

He's next door.

With Marie-Lou?

Yes.

They're playing backgammon.

Forget what I said the other day.

I was just wondering how to leave what I have

to you and Tomoki.

I don't have much.

You had a complex relationship with your father, right?

Seriously?

Don't play armchair psychologist.

I could have done more for my daughter.

But...

I don't see you as my daughter.

No.

I'm glad to hear that.

My daughter's my daughter.

And you are you.

When I get back from Marseille, I'll come see you.

Gorô, I'm going to credit you

as lead actor and co-director.

So in the future, you can adapt the play as you wish.

I should have done it sooner.

Just say, "Take care." Or "Get well soon," if you prefer.

It's okay not to leave anything.

I had such fun

trying all sorts of weird and wonderful things

with you in rehearsal.

What more could anyone ask?

I'll come back to see you.

Welcome back!

Yes, I'm back.

Tomoki can talk.

I just discovered that too.

How do you play backgammon?

No clue.

I see.

How's the pain?

Slowly spreading.

The medication helps.

Okay.

Do you want something to eat?

Not right now.

Anything you want to do?

That I feel like doing?

Anything.

I want to talk with you.

Yes.

Me too.

All night.

Is that okay?

Yes.

I'll steal your sleep time again.

Don't worry.

Can I nap first?

My legs are twitchy.

Would you mind massaging my calves?

Sure.

Mari...

Do you think you can continue the workshop?

Who do you think I am, Marie-Lou?

You know...

Damien said your workshop is good for the residents...

but even more so for the staff.

I agree.

Thank you.

Just in case.

Tell me...

don't you like Sophie?

I try not to let my feelings affect my work...

But?

I struggle with her.

Don't take this wrong, but...

you two are alike, aren't you?

You're annoying.

In Kyoto...

Yes?

I said that sometimes we're given unexpected chances.

Yes.

You also said you couldn't choose anymore.

I was wrong.

The fact is...

I think I was ready to meet you.

How so?

I was prepared enough

not to let you go once we met.

Which means I had a good life.

You talk in the past tense.

I'm allowed to, aren't I?

No.

You're tough.

It was the same for me.

Everything I've done or not done was preparing me for this.

And now...

what are we preparing for, you and I?

What's ahead for us?

I can't wait to find out.

Yes.

Let's find out together.

Two weeks later...

I'm glad the weather is nice.

The weather is nice...

But the acoustics are iffy.

Thank you all for coming today.

I hope this helps our residents and their families

as well as the local community,

to know this place better.

Which leads me to today's guest.

The most senior nurse in this care home,

Sophie Lefèvre.

Thank you.

Sophie is very busy, she's joining us on her break,

so big thanks to Sophie.

Afterwards, in the courtyard,

there'll be a performance

directed by our resident artist,

Mari Morisaki.

The play's Paris run is over,

so we're lucky to have this opportunity.

Do stick around,

because it's fantastic.

I usually ask the questions, but I've always wanted

to share the joy.

Today,

our beloved director will do the honors,

Marie-Lou Fontaine!

Hello.

Many thanks to Vanessa

for this opportunity.

So...

Sophie.

To start, you brought us this photo

of a milestone in your life.

Can you tell us about it?

It's my graduation photo.

Was becoming a nurse very important to you?

Yes, very.

My mother was a nurse too.

She raised me on her own.

I had great respect for her and her profession.

Where did you start your career?

Right here.

At the time, it was still a psychiatric hospital.

Why did you want to become a psychiatric nurse?

I wanted to go where nurses were most needed.

I thought it'd give me a chance to prove myself.

Looking back, I was so naive.

A little too confident.

Why? What was it like in reality?

I heard things improved after the 1990 reform, but....

we had more and more patients,

more and more paperwork.

The staff was overwhelmed.

We lacked beds, so patients were sent home too soon,

only to return in worse condition than before.

It was a vicious circle.

Words can't describe it.

Yet despite those conditions,

I'm sure you gave it your all.

Of course.

But there was a limit to what I could do.

I took each day as it came.

In the end, the hospital closed.

Tons of patients were thrown out, without treatment.

It's a nice stage.

Thank you.

How did things change then?

Well, it was definitely...

a lot calmer than the psych ward.

Even now,

if a resident gets delusional, memories come flooding back.

I think of those patients who were kicked out.

I feel blessed now to accompany most residents until death.

Sorry to bring this up.

I always hope it's as peaceful as possible.

So it's a blessing for the residents too.

But it's still hard.

Yes.

Hello.

My name is Gorô Kiyomiya.

And I am a Japanese actor.

I'm glad it's nice weather.

Seems kind of boring.

Performing a play in broad daylight is like being naked on stage.

But my topic today

is related to this place.

Do you know the word manicomio?

It means "psychiatric hospital" in Italian.

I was told this building used to be one.

Today, in Italy, there are no longer any manicomi.

A man named Franco Basaglia was behind the movement.

Basaglia used to ask:

"Are healthy people truly alive?"

I want to say it again:

"Are healthy people truly alive?"

Then who

is truly alive?

If I go to the hospital and let my doctor sleep in,

people will think I'm mad.

A psychiatric patient re-enters society

and kills his spouse.

It's a pity.

Another kills his parents?

That's possible too.

Because in the manicomio,

the only future they have is death.

Either they kill themselves,

or kill those who imprison them.

They must choose one or the other.

If families,

colleagues,

friends,

Society as a whole, all reject the insane,

it will happen again and again.

So should we lock them up? No.

Are we sane?

Are they crazy?

No!

There is madness in each of us.

Mr. Murano, are you okay?

Mr. Murano, did you hurt yourself?

We'll help you up.

Come with me.

Not now, Agatha...

Djibril, let her.

You okay, Philippe?

Want to get up?

Shall we help you up?

Thanks, Agatha.

There is madness in each of us.

Look carefully.

Up close...

no one is normal.

Opening the asylum doors wasn't enough.

We must open up another possibility

for our world.

Inside

and outside, we must mix it all together!

Yes.

Maybe it's time to stop?

Far from it!

The worst "maybe"

is a risk that petrifies people with fear.

But there is another "maybe."

It's the one called...

This hope,

which carries a risk of failure,

inevitably gives rise

to many setbacks.

But it's the only "maybe"

that can offer us a better future.

I want to live.

Yes.

It's the one we must choose.

This world is the best.

Don't you think?

Yes.

I want to stay.

Stay as long as you want.

We must all work up our courage.

Every bit counts.

It will be the torch

that dispels the darkness.

And it is there...

that we will come together.

Each person

will bring their courage.

We must promise each other

we'll uphold this courage,

however faint.

That's good.

Try to walk as slowly as possible.

Adjust your pace to the slowest person.

You won't fall, you have support.

Alright, Mireille.

Look up, look around.

Notice what's happening.

And then,

we'll get you washed with Djibril's help.

Is that a smile?

I'm glad.

Mrs. Becker, Mrs. Falcone is making

two coffees.

We'll carry them to that table.

Perfect. We'll take the tray.

Everyone is glad to see the coffee coming.

Hello, Mrs. Le Breton.

I'm Djibril.

You look beautiful.

Mireille asked me not to wake Marie-Lou.

Shall we get started?

Here.

ALL OF A SUDDEN

To Makiko Miyano and Maho Isono

Based on the book by Makiko Miyano and Maho Isono

You and I: The Illness Suddenly Gets Worse