Original subtitles

Summer 1914.

There was an atmosphere of rioting and fun fairs.

Bertrand, my best pal,

Théophile, our childhood friend,

and I volunteered since no-one managed to avoid this war.

Not even Jean Jaurès.

I order you to stand up.

You're insulting France. I won't tolerate it!

I'm a free man!

I refuse to salute the war!

I was 19.

I knew nothing of war.

They did well to kill Jaurès!

Punch this coward's face in!

He's a spy. He shouted "Long live Germany!"

To me, this man was the first victim of the war.

Get him out

Down with the anarchists!

Pacifists are all rogues!

Death to the Boches!

Hey, what about your drinks?

The bastard wasn't gonna pay!

It's time for revenge.

This won't be a repeat of 1870!

Long live France!

The poor man is courageous.

A courageous idiot! You can't go against public opinion.

Barbarity was at our door. but we didn't know it.

We were the silent witnesses of this great frenzy.

The drinks are on me!

We'll get the Boches!

FEAR

I wanted to know everything, experience everything.

War and love.

I couldn't bring myself to leave her.

Marguerite was my sun.

I don't want you to go.

In my head, I imagined the war like on a cinema screen:

a great spectacle not to be missed.

Gabriel...

Gabriel Dufour.

1.71 metres.

57 kilos.

Are you Gabriel Dufour?

Yes, sir.

Fit to serve.

Next.

Bertrand Frontan.

Yes, sir.

1.85 metres.

70 kilos.

Fit to serve.

Next.

My name's Théophile and I'm a poet.

Last name, young man?

Guys, look at me, I'm not even naked!

Long live France!

Please...

Your name, young man? - I'm a poet.

A poet...

Dear Marguerite, Barracks life

is a joke. Our training is a masquerade.

We're going to war!

Out of curiosity!

We sure are curious!

Our uniforms are incomplete and we have no guns.

Bertrand, Théophile, and I feel we're on a fool's errand.

Let's shut him up!

The other day, I had a close shave.

An old captain sent for me.

My grandmother wrote to say I was too fragile to go to war.

I was furious.

I said she exaggerated like all grandmothers. I wasn't sickly.

I felt such an idiot.

We'll stick our big mortar shells up their asses!

Tomorrow we're going to the war zone.

I worry about Théophile,

because I'm afraid that at the front,

poetry isn't enough.

All my love,

Gabriel.

Seeing Marguerite was great, but how can I put it?

I wanted to see a battlefield and know what goes on there.

It's only natural, We all want to know.

It's just a matter of months.

It'll be over by Christmas!

I imagine the front like a colonial expedition.

No way. We'll go to Berlin and pull chicks!

We'll raise hell!

Jaurès was wrong about the Boches.

They're much stronger than we think.

We'll beat 'em.

We must defend the values of France.

There's nothing better than soldiering.

I prefer Baudelaire.

"Be quiet, my pain

Be still

You wanted the night It's coming

Here it is An obscure atmosphere..."

Shut up! Your poetry's gibberish.

Go on, Théo. Don't listen to the cretin.

He's the romantic type!

He's a mad babbler!

You useless swine, I'll put you through hell!

Line up in twos!

Forward!

Ideas of revenge or national grandeur are foreign to me.

I resist the brainwashing,

all the lies about vengeance.

I just try not to lose my reason and follow it.

My reason will make me strong.

It will give me courage when the time comes.

22nd October 1914

We came by train to the Artois Plain.

10 kms from the front.

Luckily, Betrand, Théophile and I are still together.

In the daytime, we're ravenous.

We think of nothing but food.

As we're not at the front, they ration us.

We're famished.

In the morning, I eat half my loaf of bread.

I need a whole one.

In the evening, we eat bully beef.

It calms the hunger pangs.

What a mess! What is this?

It's more practical.

You mustn't change standard issue uniforms.

I'll tell the captain.

Put your puttees back on!

Corporal's not easy-going.

He's a bloody fool!

We'll be on fatigue duty now.

It'll keep us occupied.

The corporal marches us all over the place. I'm sick of it.

Military discipline's not for me.

Come here.

Bertrand nicknamed the corporal Catiline for a laugh.

The fellow is a brute and a big coward.

Yesterday he pushed us too far, I pointed my bayonet at his chest.

I surprised myself.

It could have cost me dearly.

It scared him. Since then, he's left me alone.

Bertrand and I keep our spirits up despite the fatigue.

Théophile keeps saying he wants to go home

We'll help him keep going.

Blondin!

Dufour!

Frontan!

Lespinasse!

Since my mother died,

I've never felt such pain.

Seeing those lads coming back from the front

made my heart sink.

I was shaking,

my mouth was dry,

like the morning my old man told me she was dead.

I didn't understand him. He had to repeat it.

I still didn't understand.

For the first time, Bertrand seems shocked.

Théophile stopped speaking.

Hey, Corporal, look!

Get up! That's an order!

Stand up!

There are no cowards in the French Army! Get up or you'll be court-martialled!

7th January 1915.

Dear Marguerite,

This morning, the earth is frozen solid.

Snow covers everything.

We still await the offensive.

Boredom spreads in us like poison.

Sleep brings oblivion.

So I seek refuge in sleep to smother the gloom.

I plunge my hands in your hair.

Corporal bing back some hooch!

Please send a lock of your hair or your photo.

I'd like that.

Spring is nearly here, pals.

We'll go home soon.

Yeah, sure!

Shut the door!

- Damn lice! - Too right.

Can you write my letter?

It's to my family. I want to send it before Easter.

It's nearly finished.

You speak patois?

It's all my grandma spoke.

Wow!

In the countryside, no-one speaks French.

You're a very courageous woman

but don't forget:

first, the cattle,

the field of alfalfa,

and then, the garden.

It'll take you a week.

All I think of is seeing you again.

In the meantime,

You wouldn't believe the things we see here.

Indian soldiers

have arrived

proudly wearing turbans on their heads

and a dot of colour on their foreheads.

They eat goat's meat.

"Apart from a few lice.

nothing really bothers us.

Big kisses

to you all,

and to ol' Lili.

Your Jean-Baptiste."

Death doesn't exist...

As long as we keep walking

and breathing,

we're all right.

I hear heavy gunfire coming closer

I'll be invisible to the bullets.

How can men kill each other on such a lovely day?

As an anarchist, I don't belong here.

I have to go before the fighting starts.

We're bound to attack.

We have no choice but to crush the Boches.

And desertion

leads to certain death.

Fall in!

Come on, line up!

Sergeant!

The squad is formed.

Relief troops are awaited on the front line.

They've shot men who cracked.

Attention!

Order of the day from General Joffre:

"Soldiers of the Republic,

after months of waiting,

the time has come to attack and win.

You will all charge together.

Your surge will be unstoppable.

It will take you to the enemy's batteries.

Behind their lines.

You will give them no rest or respite

until victory is yours.

Go with a brave heart

for the liberation of French soil,

the triumph of justice

and freedom!"

Filthy Boches!

They're using flamethrowers!

Our lads are being burnt alive!

Kill me, pals!

Kill me!

That's it, Marguerite.

This morning, we went to the front line.

The corporal stuck grenades in my pockets.

I'm afraid they'll explode and my head will blow up

and be scattered all around.

We can't hear the Boches,

But they could start again at any moment.

It wears you down.

It's better not to think or it's too much to bear.

We come across bodies at every step.

Guys who were smiling in the morning lie dead by nightfall like cattle.

Shells rip the sky apart, bursting it like a balloon.

Something in me falters.

But be reassured, we are still alive.

Knowing you're with me

gives me courage.

While we're together, nothing can happen to us.

Wait for me.

This attack isn't working.

But we recovered Hill 120.

- We lost it again. - We'll win it back.

All for 150 metres which we'll lose again!

We'll win them back!

Then we'll lose them again!

- Brothers, we must die. - Shut up!

Why have a break while they're shelling us?

Our leaders lack common sense.

Always the same stupid shit!

- Get ready! - Where are we going?

Forward! Forward!

Clear the entrance!

Look out, lads!

Hurry up!

Come on!

Be quick!

Follow me!

Fix your bayonets!

Come on, lads, keep up the fight!

It's coming thick and fast!

Forward!

Mummy!

The trench! Where's the trench?

Don't leave me, pals!

I can make it!

Stretcher-bearers!

I crawled until the dawn revealed a blue trench.

You should have seen it, Marguerite. It was blue.

full of French bodies.

The stretcher-bearers couldn't reach the wounded. It was chaos.

I kept looking for Bertrand.

You know he's like a brother to me.

I asked people if they'd seen him.

Nobody had.

I had to find him.

Without him,

how could I go on?

His face was calm,

like that of a sleeping child.

A child wiped from people's minds.

A child who'd died for nothing.

I would like to die too,

to bury myself with him.

I feel it would be fairer.

I hate myself for still being alive.

I pray for the earth,

not for a crucified man.

I whisper into my friend's ear:

"Be quiet, my pain

Be still

You wanted the night

It is coming

Here it is

An obscure atmosphere envelops the city

Bringing peace to some

To others worry"

I can't hear anything.

I am cold.

I'm in pain.

My hand...

my back...

my legs...

Where are my legs?

There they are.

It's all there.

I feel hot yet I feel so cold!

No more sky, no more noise.

Your flame-red hair.

Marguerite.

Your sacrificed hair.

It is in my mouth.

I'm swallowing it.

Poopoo.

Time for a poopoo.

Théophile.

Bertrand is dead.

Our Father who art in Heaven...

Poopoo. Time for a poopoo.

- Hello, my son. - Chaplain

What do you have to tell me?

Nothing special.

Don't you have sins to confess?

No more.

How so?

We're asked to kill our brothers.

Aren't we?

They are France's enemies.

In the army too, they keep saying:

"Don't try to understand."

Such small-minded reasoning.

I pity you, my child.

Only men's shells are left in the heavens, Father.

It's empty

like a corpse.

This war

is a sanctifying test.

You blaspheme.

No.

The war killed God...

as well.

Wait, Father!

General Nincompoop has just woken up, as you can see.

He's in high spirits on this mortar-free morning.

Right, boys?

How are you old folks?

Far from the corpses and shrapnel!

Up you get! Come on, ladies!

This place is luxury! Give thanks to the god of war!

The man in the next bed is Sergeant Nègre,

a guy who's been around.

We laugh at his imitations of degenerate General Nincompoop.

You don't know the Nincompoops!

My family are blue bloods and generals!

Sir, what do you think of the economy of human lives?

War is the destruction of human lives

A generous mission to deliver us from barbarity

Number 12 has healed.

He can be discharged.

You won't have it easy for long.

"It was time for the war to come to France

to resuscitate a sense of the ideal and the divine."

How can they write such rubbish?

What did you do at the front?

Did you fight?

You didn't answer me.

Go on, tell me.

Depends what you mean by "fighting".

You saw no Germans on the front line?

No living ones.

So, what did you do?

What I was told. No more.

You're so annoying.

Come on, answer me.

What did you do?

I walked day and night, not knowing where I was going.

I was hungry. I was thirsty.

I was sleepy. I was cold.

I had lice.

Is that all?

The only occupation that counts in the war...

I was afraid.

Are you fearful?

Listen, miss, true courage starts with fear.

Were the others scared, too?

Of course.

You're the first to say that.

When you're afraid, you run away...

You can't run away in the war.

We didn't get shelled to be manipulated

by society girls!

- If we could... - Everyone would go!

The French, the Boches, Africans, Russians!

Didn't we have a laugh in the war, lads?

You bet! It was a gas!

I see the sorrow in your eyes,

little French soldier!

We'll go back.

Without bayonets. With forks!

Long live Nincompoop!

Thanks, children, I'll always be behind you in battle

and in front at the parade!

I'll send you against the cannons.

You'll silence the cannons!

We'll shut 'em up!

Yes, brave boys:

We'll fight to the death!

Do you want to attack?

Do you want to?

Hurry up.

For us, the hospital is a promised land.

The nurses' presence keeps us in this illusion.

But Négre has decided to spread anarchy

and to stir dulled minds.

Hey, kitten, you and I should get together.

Don't let it happen again or you'll have me to deal with.

I have a kind of devil in me.

I won't tolerate such behaviour in this hospital.

Théophile?

Théo!

Nothing seems more useless than love.

Love doesn't save us.

Love can do nothing.

Yet at night, I curl up in it.

I reach out to it.

When I see you again, Marguerite, maybe you'll have changed.

Maybe your breasts, like little apples, will burst open in my hands.

Maybe your whole body will burst open in my hands.

Only then will I dive inside

and drink what flows from you.

In my head, it goes bang.

Bang, bang, bang.

Many have lost their minds.

Not me.

I think terrible thoughts.

But my reason keeps me going.

What I lack is enthusiasm.

I won't get it back.

I was drawn to this war.

Today, I spit on it.

Want to come for lunch?

Yes, I'm hungry.

It's amazing how comfortable it is here

to suffer.

I'm not afraid of death now.

But agony and mutilation...

they scare me.

Your Marguerite writes a lot.

That's great.

The little darlings...

Want a hero in their beds. Our wounds arouse them.

What have they done in the war?

They've excited men to go to the slaughter.

The little bitches!

Négre...

I don't want to go back.

We've been crippled enough by those who call the shots.

The swine!

Hey, Joséphine!

My kitten! Ready when you are!

Come on, we'll have a laugh!

Blood...

It smells of death.

I'm a piece of shit.

A poor piece of shit.

Shit.

Théo, calm down.

If I infect myself with pus,

I'll be invalided out.

You can do it, too.

I've brought you one.

I'd rather go back.

My name is Poopoo.

I am the truth.

And I dominate you all.

I won't tell you about the suffering or the horsehair stitches.

The rotting flesh

that bursts open.

I won't tell you about Théophile's madness.

If I come back, as I hope I will,

you'll see it all in my eyes.

And I must tell you the truth.

This leave made me feel sick.

I didn't expect to see all those folk

sitting, drinking in cafés.

The hypocrites seem to be doing well out of the war.

I saw you crying

with pleasure,

with joy,

and at having to part again.

Naked in my hands.

So white, I didn't dare touch you.

You called me, I was already far away.

14th May 1916

I go back to my squad in a cursed town.

The garrison is in agony.

I hear about lads coming back from Verdun.

They escaped massive carnage.

Some didn't come back from leave - they deserted.

Some didn't come back from leave- they deserted.

Mail!

- You didn't have the right injury. - I guess not.

Loads of new recruits are coming. The new officers yell at us

while awaiting orders from on high which never come on time.

I know him. I can get the letter to him.

No need. The poor fellow was killed the other day

by French bombs. Can you believe it?

This is undelivered mail to send back.

One guy was going on leave the next day to get married.

We're like pawns to them. As long as they get an extra stripe.

One year on, we're still in filthy trenches.

It's bloody disgusting!

Raynaud!

The previous messenger

was shot, going over the top.

The battalion commander sent me.

Pass me a ciggie.

The worst thing is...

I can't piss by myself now.

Help me.

I hear so many voices.

But I can't hear yours anymore, Marguerite.

I just hear the shells.

Some whistle, some mew, some moan,

some rattle your helmet.

From the noise they make, we know what's in store.

I feel the first symptoms of fear.

Everything drains out of me. It's hell here.

- Going? - To the latrines.

Not now!

The Boches know the place from aerial photos.

They're shelling so hard, we can't see.

How do they sleep with this noise?

Get ready! Quick!

You're crazy. He won't get far.

Gas attack!

An entrance has collapsed.

2 lookouts are trapped. We gotta get 'em out!

What's going on?

We don't know, sir.

Send the messengers!

We'll get wiped out!

That's an order! Hurry up!

He's scared to death! Where are the artillery officers?

You must kill that butterfly

or you'll be shot.

It's an order from Pétain!

But...

it's my heart.

War is very interesting.

Even more interesting than a lion hunt.

Get up!

C'mon, get up!

Squad, fall in!

We have to regain the ground we lost yesterday.

What? We all go?

Half of you. The other half stays here. How many of you are there?

Not counting the orderlies and cyclists, 5, sir.

Who'll march with the company?

Right, I see.

We'll play a game.

The short straw goes.

The long straw stays here.

You do it.

The short straw.

Look out!

Get up! We're going.

Our artillery are shelling us! The bastards!

Not at us, dammit!

Those gunners are a lousy shot! The fucking morons!

Now get ready.

Let's go!

Come on!

Forward!

Charge!

Join the others!

There are no heroes, just cannon fodder.

From Verdun to the Chemin des Dames, It's always the same.

What's happening here is criminal.

We should've beaten them in the attack.

But in a week, we've gained just 30 metres.

We have to face facts, it's getting worse.

The Boches are hammering us. The French officers keep their stripes.

It's an endless war of attrition.

Some expect a medal for their bravery.

I don't expect a thing.

So, you don't salute me?

Where we come from, we only salute the dead.

We've learnt to stop being men.

I'm surprised though

that we can still resist death so much.

26th September 1917.

We're at a turning point in our world's history.

We're killed senselessly.

Those who don't realise it are scum.

I won't kiss your mouth or hold your head anymore.

I discard these memories that hurt.

They stop me going forward, so I break them,

bury them, drive them from the night.

This war burnt everything in me.

How could you love the one I've become?

Nègre suddenly reappeared one morning

with a new scheme and a hen under his arm.

It's not that you're butchered - you give your life to France!

Hey, Négre!

Hey, son!

You shirker, I waited in vain for you a year ago.

Some funny things happened to me. This lays golden eggs!

I'm meeting a nutcase who supplies me with hooch and chocolate.

It's a big scam. You're coming to help me.

You weren't at Verdun or the Chemin des Dames.

I'm a sergeant now.

An observer for the colonel

who's planning one hell of a coup.

We're apparently preparing another Austerlitz, no less.

The hatred mustn't die down. Those are then damn orders!

In my head, the dead shatter and smash into one another.

We belong to the great national slaughter.

It seems that nobody knows.

When it's time to die,

I'll have this lucidity.

My eyes won't show the terror of he who is taken by surprise.

It's strange.

For the first time,

I want to write to my mother.

She died long ago.

I'm nobody anymore.

The guy is hiding around here.

Search, birdy.

Find the 2 dwarves.

Ferdinand!

- What? - Where's my stuff?

In a safe place, General! Somewhere quiet!

This sleepyhead can't see anymore!

Like I told you, this hooch makes you blind!

Oripot!

Are you dozing again?

Put your shoes back on. You'll catch cold!

It's total chaos here!

If we didn't get plastered, what'd be the point of war, eh?

Give me a hand.

Where's my stuff, dickhead?

It's hidden somewhere else.

You never know. I might get a beating.

Wait here. I'll go and get it.

Morituri Te salutant.

What've you been up to?

I watch where shells fall and stay away.

I'm sick of pipes. Give me a ciggie.

You won't desert, will you?

No.

I act like politicians and the rich. I don't give a fuck.

Couldn't those sacks of shit have spared us this massacre?

I've always said it, lad.

Try to save your skin.

I don't feel hatred.

My life is all I possess.

When I'm dead. I don't care how the living will carve up the world.

Négre...

I have a question for you.

What do you think of courage?

You fucker!

Thanks, Ferdinand, lad.

Good work.

Well, I'm running late. And I'm on foot.

When will I see you?

I'll let you know, don't worry.

Please yourself, slave driver!

He's a fucker!

Want a drink, comrade?

Where are the hooch and chocolate from?

I'll explain. We went with the NCO. He's not a bad guy

I said: "I'll go with Oripot to find provisions."

"What do you want?"

"Well... some grub."

We go all over this bloody desert

and end up finding a blockhouse full of nosh.

We couldn't sneak in. It was guarded by 2 guys who went by the book.

"What do you want?" they said.

"Some grub."

"Got a ration book?" I said: "No, do I need one?"

They told me how it worked. I said: "I'll get you a book."

Booky-wooky!

We told the NCO He refused to sign my card

I said: "Sign any old name!"

We went back with a ration book for 25 men.

We got 5 drums of hooch and lots of chocolate.

We hid in that hole and cooked the chocolate an the hooch!

We emptied the 5 drums in 24 hours.

So, we went back with another ration book.

And another and another!

"Don't you ever lose men?" they asked.

"We're in a safe spot," the fat guy said.

The fucker!

What about Négre?

He heard about it.

He offered us a deal.

And we shook on at.

The fucker!

Come here, you!

Come here!

They sent me and Oripot to give a letter to some general.

We crawled from hole to hole, over the dead.

I'm telling you, we were walking in raw meat.

But I have a way out of here.

Several lads were shot by a firing squad made up of pals.

The mighty ordered the massacre of the innocents.

We won't get over it.

Depression makes men capable of anything.

Pull the pin and run!

Go on, you fucker!

So long, Ferdinand.

2...

3...

4...

5...

embers in my heart.

7...

8...

9...

10..

11...

12 embers in the inferno of the war.

I'm 17 times the fire.

18 times the sun.

1...

2...

3...

4...

Fire is the strongest.

11...

12...

Get the hell out.

13...

14...

Too late.

4...

3...

1...

Hooch does the trick.

It anaesthetises the mind.

I'm 23 times the earth.

25 times the sun.

This is my son.

He's on leave after being wounded.

Well done, lad.

Congratulations.

Don't stay there. Sit down.

Are you OK now?

Yes, thanks.

I've been back on my feet for ages

How come you didn't get any stripes?

I don't want any, Dad.

Another of your mad ideas.

Have a drink.

It's blood!

Horse blood's healthy.

"This is my blood which is shed for many for the remission of sins."

"Do this in remembrance of me."

You know Maurin's sons? One's a corporal, the other a sergeant.

The old man is so proud.

No reason to be!

Your mother came to say hello.

She's dead.

My son...

She'll never grow.

So, lad, do you have fun at the front?

Yes, sir.

It's a blast.

Every night, we bury our pals.

If you want to make me happy

Marguerite, Marguerite

If you want to make me happy

Marguerite, give me your heart

I'm now in a rest sector

After 3 years of war, we've gone back to our position in Champagne

where I met Perrault.

an observer in the 22nd Battalion of French Canadians

who cleaned trenches in Argonne.

Every day, we go scouting, noting topographical details

in order to fill in demolished trenches and plan new ones.

I prefer to wander by myself in this big maze.

I walk on instinct,

sometimes all day long.

I like this isolation, far from others.

My ears and head hurt again.

I hurt all over, but I'm still standing.

It takes a catastrophe like this war to judge the measure of a man.

A horse is nothing alongside a man.

Especially alongside the power of alcohol.

That liquid can overcome anything.

I didn't know all that.

You get sick of using wine to shave.

Complain to Staff HQ.

What did he say?

Know what I heard?

The Boches now see the road to Paris isn't easy. They lost another plane.

Keep your spirits up, lads.

Long live France!

I'm not scared now.

Hey, look.

Comrades!

They followed me like hungry dogs. They'd sell their mothers

for some sausage.

Hey, lad, there you are again.

And where have you been?

War over?

Yes.

Give 'em some.

The little brat isn't exactly worked up!

Don't talk, Sauerkraut!

Good?

Good, good.

In Germany, nothing to eat?

In Germany, we're starving.

Isn't this Boche funny?

He's smarter than us.

They took everything from us.

A shadow passes in the trench.

I'm sometimes closer to the Boches than to our own lines.

We hear each other walking,

breathing.

We sometimes look at each other and wave.

They could kill me, but they don't.

Mutual loyalty prevents us from killing one another.

We've been brainwashed with racial hatred.

The end is near, but the word "victory" is meaningless.

A Yank sergeant was handing out coffee to his men.

Someone asked for more.

The sergeant said no.

The guy takes out has gun and kills him.

The officers catch the killer.

They tie a rope to a tree

and hang him.

Yeah. so they say.

Back there I got laid. I caught a bad dose of the clap.

You should've waited for the armistice.

The telegraphists picked up enemy radio. The Krauts want to negotiate peace

If it's true, here's to going home.

We can tell the truth.

To who? To guys who lined their pockets in the war?

No-one's interested in victims like you.

Get that through your thick head.

We'll be seen as idiots. Change sides.

The next generation will listen to us.

You still believe that after what you saw?

What a joke! I don't care about anything.

Too right.

We're at a fanatic's mercy. So, this wise old owl says take cover.

You think it's funny that I steal from the dead.

The Boches don't need 'em!

I burnt your locks of hair, Marguerite.

They smelled like singed flesh.

The stench never leaves me.

I won't say your name ever again.

The drinks are on me, lads!

Who cares what happens next?

Look out!

Lads, you're not used to peace yet!

Yeah, we're not yet used to not being afraid.

This morning, I went to see Nincompoop. I waited 4 years for that.

I looked him in the eye and said: "We inform you

that we never want to hear of you again

or of your murdering clique!"

Give us some peace, dammit! Some peace!

Fall out, General!

Peace came, to everyone's surprise.

A sort of unspeakable nervous laughter.

France tasted like ashes.

My name is Gabriel Dufour.

I just turned 23.

Subtitles: J. Miller, a.s.i.f.

Subtitling TITRA FILM Paris