Original subtitles

Ladies and gentlemen,

I've the honour to present a film, the title of which is:

DAGUERREOTYPES

A daguerreotype is an early kind of photograph...

produced by Daguerre, a French inventor, in 1839.

The present picture, shot in 1975 Rue Daguerre in Paris...

was made by Agn�s Varda...

and a few technicians such as:

Nurith Aviv, William Lubchansky,

Roland Vincent, Michel Thiriet...

and Christian Bachman for the image...

Antoine Bonfanti and Jeff Auger for the sound...

Gordon Swire and Andr�e Choty for the editing...

Jo�l David for the light...

Christote Szendr� for the rest.

Eclair Laboratories, Auditorium S.I.S.

Control visa NO: 44.089.

Produced by Cin�-Tamaris.

Here's this film by Agn�s Varda,

"Daguerreotypes".

It all started because of the "Blue Thistle"...

an unusual shop near my house, Rue Daguerre.

I like its windows. One breathes a past air...

a scent of suspended inventory.

For 25 years, the same objects have been there.

Mrs "Blue Thistle" with the meekness of a ca' ptive...

fascinates me more than the shop...

where her husband makes his perfumes

which he sells retail.

Rosalie, my daughter, is their regular customer.

How are you today?

Fine. And yourself?

I'd like some Cologne for a friend.

May I choose?

Sure, you can choose.

I'd like jasmine water.

Really nice. Do you do it yourself?

Yes, I prepare it.

According to the different scents.

I make some, I buy others.

You make this one?

No, I buy it.

But I prepare other ones...

like fern, lavender, Chypre.

I don't make jasmine.

And violet?

Yes, I make violet water.

No paper.

Thank you.

It'll be 3 francs.

Got any brilliantine?

How much?

Two francs fifty.

Very good, thank you.

This way,

my hair will stick together.

Shall I wrap it?

No, it's all right.

Time, such as it passes in "The Blue Thistle"...

made me sensitive to that of tradespeople.

I had a desire to go through the shop windows of my street...

to be inside with artisans and sa!lesmen...

in the slowness and patience of their work...

during the hours of waiting.

And then, the customers wait too in idle periods, in empty minutes...

in those mysteries of daily exchanges.

I haven't chosen the most curious shops.

No. Only my own tradesmen...

those I see every day...

less than 50 yards from my door.

My memory is failing.

It happens to me too.

It's normal

I'm almost 70.

And I, 77. What d'you say?

She was over 80 when operated on.

Close to Montparnasse...

it's an average street...

with people passing, talking...

people behind each door, each window...

that silent majority with a dreadful mask...

yet who behave with the expected charm...

and quaintness, on accordion music.

Each morning, the curtain rises on the daily scenes.

The repertory is well known. The stars are:

Bread, milk, hardware meat and white linen.

But also appointed time, short hair...

and always the accordion!

Two baguettes,

one loaf.

2 francs five.

Here's your change. Thank you.

A baguette please.

You're better? So you've been away?

You've got milk, today?

Pasteurized?

No, sterilized, Madam.

I don't like it. Any canned milk?

Yes, "Gloria".

Very good.

A small can, please.

And with this?

- How much? - Ninety.

- How much? - Ninety centimes.

It's not skimmed milk?

Yes, it is, Madam.

Haven't you any other?

No, Madam.

Bad luck, isn't it?

I got sterilized milk in litres.

Sterilized.

This one isn't skimmed?

- Yes, it is. - Skimmed, too?

Yes, concentrated, sugared, every "Gloria".

Thank you, Madam.

Yes, I'm all right. And yourself?

Well, it's not because of a phone call...

One can't always choose one's time.

- I'm bringing the keys back. - Something wrong?

- My husband will see about it later. - I'll come back.

How much do I owe you?

- 5 francs 20. - I'd also like a "popsy" for Laurence.

Then 5.20 plus 2.80.

She was at the front door and he said:

"If you continue to do that...

"I'll tell the police, you'll go to jail"...

with a nasty voice.

And she went away.

Starting to see sense!

Got to go on shopping. See you.

How much?

11 francs 50.

The minimum programme again!

When I told my wife it could be repaired...

she said: "Try it, and hurry!"

That's fine work.

Older than us.

Here's the thing with mercury.

It works but gains half an h!our a day.

So I said: "Finished!"

We'll do it for you.

If you want marble...

- ... it's finer than yours. - No, I don't.

- I'd bring it in the kid's pram. - What for?

If you want to set it, you've what's needed.

Take your time.

You'll have it at the end of next week.

At 72 one's seen everything!

- Yes, Mrs Otto? - A leg-of-mutton steak.

A steak in the leg, yes.

It won't be well placed.

A small cutlet, perhaps?

For Mr Otto? Two, then?

Not too big.

Fine, not too big.

He'll feast on these.

Ain't they cute?

For Mr. Otto. 5 francs.

Thank you, Mrs Otto.

Do I keep it all?

How's Mr. Otto?

A little better?

He was a bit tired. His heart.

He had an electrocardiogram.

The weather, surely.

What will it be?

A sirloin steak.

- Just for one? - Yes.

Not too big.

It'll come to...

6 francs...

No, 7.80.

Here's your mail.

- You've skated? - I've got to, to become a star.

Yes, it's a lot of work.

Isabelle, your mail.

See you.

I'm fine. And you?

At the other end of Rue Daguerre, a vast market.

There are sellers of political papers, discussions.

Here nothing.

It's with black hands one earns white bread.

On this side of the Rue Daguerre...

the pavement is neutral.

Here, no one cares for politics.

No one talks about it. It's bad for business.

Here are your sheets. Thank you, Madam.

In the streets of Paris when night comes...

tailors are still at work when other shops close.

In "made to measure" one must be very patien!t.

I'm Lucien Bossy.

Tailor for the last 25 years.

Born in St Pazanne

between Nantes and Pornic...

Nantes and Noirmoutier.

I came to Paris...

to take lessons and become a cutter.

My name is Marie.

I was born between Rennes and St-Brieuc...

in Quedillac, on Highway NO 12.

My name's Jean Guillard.

Born at Bois-Gervilly, in Ile-et-Vilaine.

I came to Paris in 1954.

I was 42 then.

I'm Janine, born in the country...

at St-Aubin-des-Coudrais on the River Sarthe.

At 19, I came to Paris, in 1955.

I'm Yves. Born in a small village of 500 people...

St-Aignan-sur-Sarthe, Sarthe Department.

I arrived in Paris in 1955

and settled here Rue Daguerre in 19!62.

My name's Genevi�ve.

Born at Trinit�-Porho�t Morbihan Department.

Came to Paris in 1931.

I was born in L�ge, in the Arcachon area.

I learned my trade in the Limousin...

at M�zi�res-sur-Issoire a good region for meat!.

After my service, I came up to Paris.

I'm Maria Danguy or Piednoir.

Born in St-Cyr-du-Bailleul, Manche Department.

My parents had a farm.

I came to Paris in 1963.

My name's Henri Piednoir.

Born on January 21st, 1910, in the Orne Department.

I started bread-making at the age of 15.

Marcelle.

My wife's name is Marcelle.

Mine is L�once Debrossian.

We've been in Rue Daguerre since 1933.

We started with hosiery and perfumery.

And now we've gone on with that trade.

I'm Boukraa Mustapha.

Born at Djerba, Midoun El Abada.

I came here, Rue Daguerre, on January 22nd, 1973.

Thibaud Jean born in the Ni�vre Dep!artment.

We rear cattle.

Our lands are covered with fir-trees.

It's a fine country.

The air shakes when they name their birth-place...

the village of their childhood.

So here's the truth about Paris 14th:

Its pavement smells of soil.

But something's brewing at the corner caf�.

Here's a festival of Magic,

presented by a man from abroad...

the 20th district!

Who is he? What's his name?

His name: MYSTAG.

And now we are transported

in a world of mystery and illusion.

He'll catalyze, temporarily...

half-frights and blank laughter.

He'll erase logical ideas and cheering certainties.

He'll reveal mediums unknown to themselves.

He'll lull an already still world.

The Mystag Mystery Festival will start presently.

Ladies and gentlemen,

though everybody isn't here yet, I'll start now.

We've a programme of 150 minutes...

which is to end around midnight.

And it's already 2 minutes to nine.

Too bad for the late-comers.

Next time they'll be punctual.

Tonight, I've the pleasure to present

a few conjuring tricks...

classified as science-fiction.

In a time when men land on the moon...

and are shown films like "2001"...

"Planet of the Apes", etc.

the obvious thing to do for a conjurer...

is to give a show of science fiction.

After which, you'll have some fakir curiosities.

Then, a demonstration of human radar...

i. e. thought transfer, second sight...

suggestion, magnetism, clairvoyance...

catalepsy, hypnosis, etc.

These experiments, viewed as science-fiction...

by imagination...

let's now betake ourselves to the future.

Millennia have elapsed.

Space ships have become immense cities

men have landed on planets.

They've seen civilisations which would baffle any man...

still in the atomic age.

Among their thousands of realizations...

I can choose and present...

a few effects by handling some familiar objects.

For instance here are two empty'bowls.

I put rice in one of them. Just enough.

Full measure. Not heaped.

I put back into the box what's in excess.

I cover this bowl full of rice...

of which the second one is empty.

On this earth familiar to us...

with a full bowl and an empty one...

we can only have two half-full bowls.

On a planet where lands an astronaut of the future...

both bowls are full.

The upper rice falls on to the tray...

and the lower bowl is more than full.

Could we have this striking result with liquid?

Could these two empty bowls collect water?

Well, here you've water!

If I'd wanted wine it's quite simple.

They demand wine, and they'll have wine!

And some tangerines.

- Yes, sir. How much? - One pound.

Here you are. Anything else?

A bottle of Vichy, please.

That'll be 8.40, sir.

I lost at the races today.

The unmaterializing of the matter...

and its rematerializing on this planet...

give very surprising effects,

such as the penetration of solid into solid.

This set of rings...

will allow me to present one of the strange things

to be seen in this field.

Let's say I begin with...

three rings.

Here are one...

two... three...

four... five... six.

In a whisper you say a magic word.

You need the formula for that word.

Of course, you have in hand...

1, 2, 3 notes...

at once transformed...

into 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 notes.

And now I'll try it tonight.

I'll ask you to be indulgent with me.

I'm taking 6 notes.

As per my explanations, I take 3 away.

I whisper the magic word...

and I have in my hands...

1, 2, 3, 4, 5... 6 notes!

All this is but a small introduction to the next supra magic experiments...

as I tend to make them more and more difficult.

You've heard of seemingly incombustible fakirs...

who play with fire, who eat fire.

This is also done by black witches...

in Africa for voodoo ceremonies.

I'm going to eat fire.

I'll swallow the flame...

keep it in my stomach, then spit the fire.

You will perhaps never witness it again...

as it is seldom seen in France and Europe.

It's delicious and perfect for one's health!

When one can master fire, one may obtain very advantageous things.

You just hold some burning ashes...

you rub them...

and you hear a very pleasant cracking sound.

The flames have just been transformed...

into 1...

2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

and 7 banknotes!

Bake the meat.

At the warmest place. To be ready for noon.

I met my husband...

in 1923.

He was a baker in my village.

I waited every Wednesday to see him...

when he used to deliver our bread.

Six months later, we got married.

We bought a shop near Laval

and that's where we started our life...

our life together, selling bread.

I met Maria in 1935 at St-Cyr-du-Bailleul.

I was a baker and she a seamstress.

I delivered bread in her village...

and that's how we met.

We got married in 1937, in June.

We have four children:

Nicole, Eliane Jean-Claude and A!lain.

When I met Henri well, I liked his wor'k.

I was happy to become the baker's wife.

And also...

He was rather handsome!

He was then a dark-haired boy, with curly hair...

handsome, very pleasant, with a Southern accent.

I met Janine in a caf� near where I worked. I used to go with pals.

Yes, Mother ran a caf� Rue St-Jacques.

I helped her, that's how I met my husband.

I was attracted by her kindness.

We went out together, and it came naturally.

We went out together several times.

Theatre, music-hall, cinema...

but never to balls.

In a dance-hall.

Which one?

Somewhere Rue Pasteur of ill repute.

Why were you there?

A girl friend had taken me there.

She had understood that her fianc� went there to dance without her.

That's how it happened.

And indeed we saw him with another girl.

That's how I met my husband.

He used to go there with his friends.

He dropped them, and danced with me.

When I met my wife...

I think I was with a girl...

that I had invited.

But I dropped that girl...

and danced with my wife.

When I met my husband for the first time...

I was 23.

I was living at my brother's, a baker.

And we saw each other as often as possible.

There was a Flower Festival...

and we attended it together.

There were floats.

Also the procession, all that.

That's how we came to frequent each other.

When I met Janine...

she was at her uncle's. It was love at first sight.

I worked for her uncle and she came on holida'y.

One week later, we went to a ball.

It was love at first sight.

In a dance-hall. He was there...

and he invited me for a dance. I accepted.

Afterwards, we had a drink together.

And it continued like that.

She was 14 years old.

Then he did his military service.

He wrote once, but I never answered.

Or maybe I answered once. Then I let it drop.

Three years later, I was working...

in a town near her village.

We met. Love at first sight again!

I thought she was lovely.

A pretty brunette with rather long hair. Awfully nice.

I remember: she was a very decent girl...

Very sweet and kind.

We met...

50 years ago.

...at the "Petit Journal" annual party.

Near the Cadet subway.

We've been together since then.

We married, and settled here in 1933.

We specialize in the sale of perfumes.

My wife attended to hosiery...

and sold haberdashery too.

She also took care of the fancy jewellery.

At the time she had a gift for je!wellery.

But now, it's too hard. So we let it drop.

Do you sell white buttons?

- Big ones? - For a coat.

A coat, did you say?

Three like this one.

How much?

20 centimes each... that's 60 centimes.

Engage the clutch. Very slowly.

You've got to keep the correct pressure.

Don't forget to look ahead all the time.

Slowly... slowly.

Almost no acceleration.

Slowly.

Now you can remove your left foot.

That's it... very slowly.

Don't forget your arrow.

Look into your rear mirror. Slowly with the brake.

And now we'll stop.

- Your next appointment is set? - Yes, sir. Thank you.

I'd like two steaks, in the sirloin.

Sure, right away.

So you're shopping tonight?

Before it's too cold?

Not too big?

Here you are, sir.

6 francs.

Some veal liver, please.

And minced beef.

And now, a very moving experiment.

If there are impressionable people here...

I'll ask them to shut their eyes a moment

as I won't be held responsible for a swoon.

No need to be afraid...

as I'm operating on myself.

But I repeat: shut your eyes if you're over-sensitive.

In on one side, out on the other.

Now I'll take it off.

You can see the knife is deep in the flesh.

Here you are: healed at once!

You'll feel something that doesn't exist.

1, 2... I'm ready to cut.

At 3, you'll feel a cut.

Look hard at my eyes.

I'm not pressing. Look... One, I push.

Two: I'm ready to cut.

Three...

There's nothing to fear. You can all check.

Put on your glasses.

Fine. Now I'm going to eat.

After Nice, in the Vaucluse...

It's extraordinary.

But Cannes is more beautiful than Nice.

I'm not so fond of the Riviera.

Is your son doing well at school?

- Not so bad. - Isn't he a bit lazy?

No, on the contrary, he tries hard.

- What a pity! - It's difficult.

What is he best at?

He's behind in everything.

Is that girl going on?

He's a little babyish, you know.

And he doesn't like it much.

- He has many friends? - Yes, a lot of pals.

And his teacher is a very nice man.

The car ahead of you is in the middle of the road...

and you want to pass it.

What do you find as a valid answer?

You honk for him to move over.

So the valid answer is "C".

Understand?

Question NO 2: The valid answer is...

"A", "C".

"A" and "C".

In this case, you must yield priority on the right.

It's a sign at the crossing of two branch roads.

You must drive at a moderate pace.

These are danger signs:

Dangerous double-turn, the first to the left.

Talking about signs, please notice...

that there are different signs.

You have the danger signs...

those of prohibition and obligation.

You must keep it in your head.

Above all, don't mistake them.

Danger sign: a yellow triangle, point at the top.

Prohibition: the signs are round...

white with a red rim.

Remember them always and don't mix them up.

Press on it.

Let's hear a cry!

Twenty-six!

That's not nice.

Thirty-three!

The number of knives the number of swords!

It's impossible that the head be in there.

You are right...

as you can see yourselves...

Dani�le Francois whisked her head away.

The head's vanished!

Knives and swords are all mixed in the box.

The head's disappeared, it's no longer here!

Don't lose your head.

Keep it cool, always.

I insist because there may b!e small traps.

The examiners talk to you...

more or less rapidly, often roughly.

So I insist again: don't lose your head.

Tomorrow, some of you present here tonight...

will sit your driving licence.

As some who've failed 1 or 2 times realize...

it's more and more difficult.

Now you see that the head...

The head fills almost the whole box.

I'm going to act just by magnetism and suggestion.

When he's in catalepsy, 2 people'll help me.

When I call you, sir...

you'll take hold of his shoulders.

You, sir, will please take his feet.

First, I'll try one arm...

to see whether he has the nervous health...

and will to go on with this experiment.

Follow me mentally.

Think that this arm is going to stiffen.

It's going to get into catalepsy. Think hard.

It's growing hard.

It seems to be so strong...

that the strongest man of all couldn't bend it.

Very hard.

Conservation, fixedness of stiffness.

This gentleman has much will.

The arm is going into catalepsy.

But the shoulder supple.

The arm is well pressed along the body.

Now the bust is slowly getting stiff.

Let yourself go backwards.

Stiff all over.

Take the shoulders and you the feet.

The head leans easily back.

Please sit down, gentlemen.

Do I cut a little?

Hardly any.

He feels nothing. As stiff as a beam.

Hold the chairs firmly.

The chairs are well held.

We'll put him as straight as a stake.

Come back for the shoulders.

I take your wrist underneath.

Now we'll lift him.

Put the feet on the platform.

Fine. You can sit down now gentlemen.

The first arm becomes supple.

He's coming to. There!

The first arm's done. Now the second arm.

The bust.

Bravo, sir, for your courage!

Relax. Be neutral.

You won't fall. Don't be afraid, I'm here.

Don't fall... It's fine.

Don't be afraid. I'll do it again.

Relax, Madam my hands are behind! you.

Stay neutral. See, I move my hands away.

And now you come backwards. You won't fall, rest assured.

Don't be afraid, I'm behind you. It's hard, because you aren't relaxing.

I became a concierge...

"keeper", I prefer...

in 1945.

I've 4 stairs

48 tenants.

I've my garden, with flowers, it's pleasant.

I hope to retire in 2 or 3 years.

For spiritualism, a medium is needed...

as a mysterious substance, the ectoplasm...

emanating from them will act with me.

Look hard at these.

There's no chalk on them. You open completely. There!

No chalk. They're clean, aren't they?

I take it back.

I wrap the slates up and hand them to you.

The whole thing'll happen in your hands.

Hold the slates like this.

And now I'm asking the Spirits...

to make my hand appear on any of these slates.

I'd like some makeup for my daughter.

Something to match her hair.

I'll show you the different shades.

Dark, or light?

- Light. - No, this is too pale.

Show us what you have in pink-ochre.

It's quite a new tint, I haven't got it yet.

Never mind, I'll take some lipstick.

Lipstick. Which one?

The Bourgeois one?

Yes...

This one here.

I'll give you Pink Azalea.

Yes, that's it.

- How much? - 3.50.

Don't go outside.

Why?

Around 6 pm, before the sun sets...

she wants to go out, but she doesn't.

She doesn't want to leave.

That's the idea, the feeling. She won't go.

In the evening, a tendency...

an inner force induces her to go out...

not to go out, but to want to go out.

She never went away.

I dream too.

But it's quite normal for me to dream.

I see many, many clocks.

But my dream is to work on only one piece.

Precisely the piece which is most difficult.

All of us have a desire to leave at dusk.

No doubt we are prisoners in our lives.

To dream is an illness for those who're normal.

They talk about their troubles, not their dreams.

They refuse any daydream and inner motion.

It's actually the silence of a heavy sleep.

It's immobility.

I think our dreams are mixed up with our work.

When tired, we think about our haunting work.

That's all. We don't have bizarre dreams, no.

At night, yes, I dream.

I often dream about my job.

I begin again what I've done during the day.

I serve a customer.

Or I'm asked for a cut I don't have.

Or she's satisfied or not.

I dream about things concerning the trade...

I do it every day, a little.

Not much, but it breaks the day.

I lie down for half an hour.

I don't sleep, but I doze, I lose myself.

Dreams? Got no time for them.

On Sundays? Television and naps.

Yes, I often have dreams. Sentimental ones.

Sometimes... when I've seen a pretty customer.

Good-bye, work well.

Work well. Don't play.

I may dream of very distant things...

like when I was young...

what I should've done, or not done.

Yes, I dream very often.

No, I don't dream. I never do.

I'm rather sentimental.

So, things come back to me. I dream.

Yes, that comes of being sentimental.

I just got married.

I often dream about my wife, my relatives...

my mother who's living alone in Djerba.

Yes, I dream. Often.

Sometimes, I walk in my sleep.

I get up.

What do I dream about?

You're afraid, you wake up...

you want to escape. I turn on the light and it stops.

Years ago, it happened to me in Auvergne...

when I was young. I walked down 3 floors...

and ended up in the street.

The cold pavement woke me up.

Yes, I dream.

Sometimes about my pupils or the lessons I gave during the day.

All this gives me nightmares.

Sometimes, I dream I'm becoming rich.

Like all bakers, I don't sleep much.

But often, when sleeping, I dream of my work...

of all the troubles we have in this trade...

Also, the worries we endure with the IRS...

or with the dough...

which sometimes refuses to be worked.

Though the work's hard, I don't complain.

I sleep well, I rest.

I often have comic dreams about travels.

But when I wake up...

I'm in my bed and haven't moved!

Dreams are pretty bizarre.

Sometimes, one can go far, far away...

one looks for romances.

Then, alas, everything turns...

how could I say it... normal...

because one has to get up and start again the tasks...

of the day.

Now, you're going to wake up.

Your eyes open, you're quite awake.

I'll send you all to sleep.

Listen hard. Concentrate on my words.

You're in a deep sleep.

You're sleeping... sleeping.

These colour daguerreotypes, these old images...

that collective and stereotyped portrait...

of some men and women of the Rue Daguerre...

these images and sounds anxious to remain discreet...

facing the grey silence haloing Mrs Blue Thistle...

does it all form a report?

A homage? An essay?

A regret, a reproach? An approach?

Anyway, it's a film I sign as the neighbour:

"Daguerreotype-Agn�s"!