All language subtitles for Intimate.Strangers.2004.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX].en

Intimate Strangers

-Who is it? Tell me, Samantha!
-Can't you guess?

Father Joseph? He's your lover?

He listens to me.
He understands me.

-So do I.
-You don't, Richard!

You haven't for ages.

-Because you don't talk to me!
-We have nothing to say.

We can still be a couple.

A couple!

-It's over.
-What's over?

-Looking for someone?
-I'm here to see Dr...

Monnier? You want Dr. Monnier?

That's it.

Sixth floor, second on the left.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

-Thank you.
-See you soon.

Goodbye.

-Good evening.
-Good evening.

Do we have an appointment?

Yes, at 6:00.

At 6:00?

Sorry I'm late. I said I might be.

-Come on in.
-Thank you.

My secretary's gone home.
You're Mrs...?

Your name?

Sorry. I'm Mrs...

Hi, Jacques. Not a bit.
We need to talk.

Hold on a second.

I need a word with a colleague.

Would you mind waiting?
Go ahead.

I know.

Yes, he told me.

His divorce and bankruptcy...

Frankly, I can do nothing for him.

Absolutely nothing.

Why not refer him to Hulcourt?

He's a top specialist.

Let's do that.

I'm all yours.

You forgot your bag.

First, I'll take down a few details.

-What details?
-Please sit down.

Your age, occupation, marital status.

-Who referred you to me?
-Nobody.

I looked in the Yellow Pages.

I wanted somebody local.
I phoned a few numbers.

The first one was booked up
for two months.

-Seeing it's urgent...
-Urgent?

I've come about a problem...

A personal problem.

May I?

By all means.

My husband hates it.

I did manage to stop, but...

A personal problem, you said?

Yes.

Marital.

We've been married four years...

I'm sorry.

Thanks.

It's no good anymore,
with my husband.

He changed a lot
when he had to stop working.

Why was that?

Health problems.

-Do you work yourself?
-Yes, I always have.

My husband disapproved,
but I'm not a housewife.

I work in a luxury-luggage shop.

Handbags, suitcases...

Excuse me.

That's what I'm here for, Madame.

I'll see you tomorrow at 3:00.
Goodbye.

I apologize.

Besides my husband,
I have nobody to talk to.

Not even at work?

We just talk about work.

-Have you got any family?
-No.

I'm afraid I'll go mad.

Have you consulted your husband?

I tried to, but he treats me
like a little girl.

I wanted children...

...but it's too late.

He's stopped touching me.
We don't have sex anymore.

It's been six months.

It stopped dead.
We used to be so good together.

I miss the...

The pleasure he gave me, but also...

...the kissing and cuddling.

His body against mine, you know?

I'm not used to talking about myself.

Can we stop?

So will you do it?

Do what?

Take me on.

How many "sessions"?

Isn't that the word?

Of course, it's too soon to say.

Is next week okay?

Thursday, same time?

Doctor?

-You posed as a shrink?
-I didn't pose.

She mistook me for Dr. Monnier.

-Who?
-Dr. Monnier.

The psychiatrist down the hall.
She'd come to see him.

And you didn't enlighten her?

I realized too late.

My tax clients often unload
their love lives.

I thought she wanted advice
on divorce.

Can you pass me those books?

What's she like?

How do you mean?

Is she pretty?

In fact...

...she broke down in tears.

-I felt...
-Shattered?

What did you talk about?

Her relationship problem.

She came to a specialist.

Hello.

I'm looking for a book.

Any more details?

Something about "room."

That's a big help.

-Still okay to meet him?
-Who?

-Luc. He's picking me up.
-The gym teacher?

He's not a gym teacher.
He runs a club.

A wife-swapper's club?

A fitness club.

-After you dumped me--
-You dumped me.

For about the seventh time.

If she's sick, she needs proper care.

You can't string her along.

Call her and cancel.

How? I don't even know her name.

That's Luc there.

How's my cutie?

The famous William.
I hear you're a real hotshot.

Let's not get too friendly.

I love his humor.

How's the biz? Easy going?

I don't understand a word he says.

Come on, cutie.
Time for your body-sculpt class.

Next time, can we just kiss?

When you see her, tell her
you're a tax lawyer, not a therapist.

-Right?
-Sure. Who do you think I am?

Can we contest the adjustment,
Mr. Faber?

The tax inspector told me--

As I said, the tax office
miscalculated your allowance.

You daughter is an adult,

but as your dependent,
she entitles you to a rebate.

Is that clear?

Not exactly. Could you say it again?

Everything's under control.

Thank you, Mr. Faber. Goodbye.

Is your father enjoying
his retirement?

When he knew me,
I still had the candy shop.

Give him my regards.

-Certainly.
-Thank you. Goodbye.

I typed the mail. Anything else?

No, Madame Mulon.
Go home and enjoy life.

Can I make you some supper?

No, I can manage.

I know. What a pity.

Good evening, doctor.

Last time, there was something
I didn't dare...

It's not easy.

-But no secrets, right?
-As you say--

That light's strong. Could we...?

My husband doesn't touch me.

At least he's not violent.

But now he wants me...

Excuse me.

...to make love to another man.

Another man? Someone you know?

No, any man. He's obsessed with it.

"You're free to fuck
whoever you like."

His word, not mine. "Fuck."

Some women have no choice. I do.

He needs help more than me.

How can you bear it?

We should break up, but it's too late.

-Why?
-It just is.

I have to go home.

How much do I owe you?

Actually--

I've only got my train fare.

Can I pay you next time?

Same time Monday?

Listen.

I'm...

-I'm not a doctor.
-Aren't you?

-You don't understand.
-Yes, I know.

Analysts aren't all qualified doctors,
but I don't care.

See you Monday, doctor.

Madame Mulon?

Excuse me. Did anyone ring?

-Who?
-A young woman.

-What name?
-Any name.

Nobody's rung.

Good morning.

Excuse me. May I have
a quick word with Dr. Monnier?

You have an appointment?

No. I'm Faber,
the tax lawyer down the hall.

What's it about?

A friend. She had an appointment
earlier this month.

Possibly. And?

We'd lost touch.

We met in the lift.
She was in a hurry.

She asked me to phone her.
I lost her number.

When was this exactly?

Tuesday the 2nd at 6:00 p.m.

We did have a patient. Her first visit.

That will be her.

She failed to turn up.

That's her.

What's her name?

I only know her maiden name.

I've no idea of her current name.

Your story seems a bit muddled.

I really need to find her. Please.

I'll ask if the doctor can see you.

"Couches deep as tombs."

You know the line from Baudelaire?

But face-to-face will do
for a first session.

I didn't come for that.

I'm listening.

It's a common complaint
of women in therapy.

"I'm undesired.
My husband screws around,

so I'll do the same."

Her mistake was understandable.

Changing oneself is delicate work.

What's strange is you.

You maintained her illusion.

Not once, but twice.

Anyway, it's over.
She didn't come last week.

Since then, no news.

-So that's that.
-I want to see her again.

You're free.

If she'd confided in you in public,
would you ask my permission?

Hang on. She thought I was you.

It's annoying.
You're poaching my clients.

I've got to tell her the truth.

I need her number.
I know nothing about her.

You know too much already.

No, I need to contact her.

"Cunt-act."
That's what everyone wants.

Women as well as men.

No, I'm sorry.

I can't divulge a patient's address,

especially if she's not my patient.

That will be 120.

Euros.

It's part of the therapy.

Therapy!

I told you he'll see you...

Goodbye.

It's seven minutes past!

Doctor! I'm sorry, but--

Calm down, Mr. Chatel!

Hello.

I just wanted to say I felt a bit--

Welcome to the Weather Hotline.

Today, Paris will be wet and windy

until the evening.

Excuse me. An insistent visitor
without an appointment.

I won't be a minute.

Are we staying here?

Come in.

You know why I didn't come back?

I confess. I'm not Dr. Monnier.

I know.

I've known for a week.

To change our appointment,
I called Dr. Monnier.

He picked up.

I didn't recognize his voice.
I mean, yours.

It gave me a shock.

I thought, "If it's not him,
then who is it?"

I shouldn't have come back.

I thought, "How disgusting.

This stranger knows all about me."

So, Mr. Faber, you're a tax lawyer.

What does that consist of?

I help my clients
to sort out their taxes.

Without cheating?

-Yes and no.
-You cheated me.

The evidence is against me.

Forgive me, please.

No.

I could have killed you. Really.

It was a stupid misunderstanding.

-I'm sorry about it.
-And me?

Telling all my secrets to a nobody.
I felt dirty.

-Like I'd been raped.
-Raped?

Yes, raped.

Nobody can help me.

I think they can.

No.

Of course, they can't.

Coming!

Am I intruding?

Are you with your family?

Family?

I was walking around in the area.

I hate this time of day, at dusk.

Shops shutting, people going home,
like I should be.

I'm sorry I stormed out earlier.

It doesn't matter.

I don't know your number.

And I don't know yours,
Madame Delambre.

-You investigated me?
-You disappeared.

I asked Dr. Monnier
how I could reach you.

And?

Guess.

I'm scared my husband
will answer the phone.

So you give the Weatherline.

It sprang to mind.
We use it at the shop.

If it forecasts rain,
we put out umbrellas.

Tuesday, 6:30, Mr. Faber?

Yes, of course.

How should I call you?

Anna, if you like.

-No, I mean phone you.
-Don't.

Tuesday, then.

What do you think?

Pleasantly full-bodied.

Not the wine, Luc.

Be honest.

I... He's...

-He's very physical, isn't he?
-Very.

Not your type at all.

-I should move my books out.
-No hurry.

Doesn't Mr. Muscle mind you
spending the evening with me?

I said I had a faculty meeting.

-Seen her again?
-Who?

-The weepy woman.
-Yes.

Did you come clean with her?

Of course. I had no choice.

Whose cosmetics are these?

Yours.

You kept them?

Yes.

Just in case.

Won't you stay?

No, William.

It was just...

...off the cuff.

Which floor?

-Sixth.
-Me too.

-I'll walk up.
-Six floors?

I'd rather.

I'm early.

That couch seemed normal at first.

I do take the odd nap.

Today I was late because...

...the crowds on the main street
made me nervous.

I had to take the backstreets.

Wouldn't it be easier by car?

My husband won't let me drive.

What? He won't let you
drive or smoke?

What else?

I wonder what he does
alone at home all day.

How do you pass the time?

It passes itself.

I wake up, go to work and...
Nothing.

Wouldn't you like a change?
A more interesting job?

I've done it all.

Selling, serving, smoking...

...drinking a bit on gloomy evenings.

The only thing I...

But it's more of a passion than a job.

As a girl, I studied ballet
for seven years.

It was awfully hard, but I adored it.

Especially my old teacher.

He was the first person
who really looked at me.

I wonder if I can still...

Won't you try?

Try.

Go on.

Sorry, but...

...an urgent fax just came in.

I'll come back later.

Why not take it up again?

Star dancer? Too late.

It's never too late to follow your star.

I did when I was young.

When you were young.

I did everything
very young and very badly.

I left school at 14 and home at 16.

If you can call it home.

We lived in a trailer.

My mother said
it was easier to move.

We lived on the road,
heading south to the sun.

No love, no hate. I didn't exist.

Some nights,
she'd bring a man home.

She'd send me out
and forget about me.

My mother never brought
anyone home.

I have to go.
My train's at half past.

-Do you live far?
-In Switzerland.

A quiet suburb.

Little gardens, little houses.

It's how I imagine Switzerland.

Another appointment?

Goodbye.

Problem, Madame Mulon?

Besides emptying her ashtrays, no.

-Is she a new client?
-Yes, why?

I haven't got a file on her.

I'm handling her file personally.

Most patients come
to air their grievances.

People have lost the art of listening.

Even barbers and waiters
can't be bothered now.

In you, she's found an open ear.

Is that bad?

As long as her health doesn't suffer,

I can't bar you from seeing her.

Your business isn't unlike mine.

We both treat the same neuroses,

what to declare and what to hide.

My open ear won't solve
her problems.

Her problems or yours?

Mr. Faber will be a while.

He wasn't expecting you, Miss--

Mrs.

He has another meeting after this.

I'll wait.

Can I deduct the customs duty?

Otherwise, the goods
will be taxed twice.

I can't have that.
I'm sitting on the stock.

I can't process your file.
It's too incomplete.

It's all there.

But your case is complex.

Very complex.

I'll get back to you.
Let me see you out.

Come again soon.

You left this last time.

Thanks.

I'm stuck.

May I?

Isn't it boring?
All those files and papers?

Boring? Not a bit.

Taxes tell a whole life story.
It's all there.

Birth, marriage, divorce,
successes, failures and death.

My husband worries
when I'm late after seeing you.

Why should he worry?

He probably thinks I see someone.

Someone? A psychiatrist?

No, a man. A lover, right?

Isn't that what he wanted?

As long as I tell him.

Today, I told him I had to work late.

I don't know why I lied.

Tell him the truth.

That I see a shrink?

That would be another lie.

Plus, he'd get the wrong idea.

You needn't tell him everything.

Couples can have secrets.

Couples.

Why do you always wear a tie?
Do you have to?

I don't have to, no.

Does it reassure you?

What is it, Madame Mulon?

Nothing.

Could I have something to drink?

Of course.

Could you bring us
two coffees, please?

-Tea.
-Wait. One tea, one coffee.

Where does she think she is?
A bar?

My husband. I saw him dead.

In a dream?

No, for real.

I'm so sorry.

When did it happen?

Six months ago.

I nearly killed him.

As a child, I had trouble reading,
counting and walking.

I still have problems.

I confuse left and right.
I get mixed up with words.

And doors.

That too.

That night, I was getting the car out.

It's an automatic, see?

I'm ignorant.

I did something wrong.

The car shot backwards.

I didn't see my husband
hiding in the dark.

Why was he hiding in the dark?

A little game we played.

I heard him yell. Too late.

His left leg crushed against the wall.

I crippled him.

-Wheelchair?
-No, just a cane.

He doesn't like using it.

When he falls,
I have to help him up.

Thank you.

Thanks.

After the accident,
he stopped touching me.

He thinks it will revive his desire
if I take a lover.

That's a risky game.

What if you fall in love?

With who?

This other man.

I'd have to meet him first.

Who's that sad woman?

I've no idea. Nobody.

She'd get me down.

I used to think she was
my father's secret lover.

He was too staid for that.

But he was always keen
on Madame Mulon.

-Your secretary?
-She was his too.

She was dishy in those days.

Dishy? What does that mean?

It means attractive.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

I can cope with handshakes.
Yours, anyway.

-It's a start.
-Thursday, then.

-Hi, Madame Mulon.
-Hello, Jeanne.

So she still comes?

Knowing you're not a shrink?

-I see.
-No, you don't.

She only talks about her twisted
husband who makes her miserable.

Why doesn't she dump him?

It's complicated.
He bullies her. She's scared.

She's lucky to have met you.

Will you save her?

Convincing!

What?

You went...just like a shrink.

How do you know they go...?

I've been in analysis
for six months.

You too? What for?

Bereavement therapy.

Bereavement? Did somebody die?

I'm mourning our affair.

So where is this piece?

The little sofa I came to pick up?

You're right to take it.

It was gathering dust.
It's more use to you.

-Isn't it pretty?
-Lovely.

Take this too.

You always liked it a lot.

-Won't you miss it?
-Let me take over.

You're welcome to it.

Hey, Willy. Men to the rescue.

Thanks a lot.

-It's huge!
-I got the biggest there is.

Lucky you.

You fancy it, I can get one.

The importer works out at my club.

What would I do with it?
I can't drive.

No kidding.

Let's hit the road.
The traffic's murder.

It's funny. I knew you'd say that.

You're uncool.

I know.

I swallowed an umbrella, open.

You should loosen up.

Why are you here?

Where's your mean secretary?

It's her day off. Why mean?

It shows.

-Where were you?
-At a client's.

An endless tax inspection.

-You could have said.
-How? We weren't supposed to meet.

-We said Wednesday.
-Thursday.

No, we said Wednesday.

I didn't dream it.

Oh, yes. Thursday.

I get mixed up, you know.

I need to pee.

Down the hall on the left.
I'll show you.

I don't need a witness.

Left.

I heard you.

Your flat's well kept.

Neat and tidy.

-Who does it for you?
-I do. I prefer.

-Obsessive?
-No, I--

I enjoy it.

It was my father's lighter.

It's all I have of him,
except a photo,

which I'm not even sure is him.

You're itching to know more.

He died in a car crash
when I was born.

My mother was driving.

She killed her husband,
like I almost did.

So there you have it.

How strange.

What?

The same accident,
mother to daughter.

You took the sad woman down?

She'd been there 30 years,
poor thing.

You've lived here 30 years?

Even longer.

I was born here and never moved.

This was my father's office.

I took it over when he retired.

So you set out your toy collection.

As you can see.

This one's fun.

What's his name?

Is it a secret?

Matotoy.

Meaning what? My toy-toy?

I think so.

Be gentle. He's fragile.

What did your father do?

Same as me.

Another father-to-son thing?

I never thought I'd follow him.

As a teenager,
I dreamed of being an explorer,

conquering women and the world.

This world boiled down to this flat.

Don't you ever travel?

Yes, for work.

Last year I went to Belgium.

What about women?

Do you live alone?

Can't we talk about you?

There's a locked door in the back.

My parents' old bedroom.

I mean in you, not your flat.

-Do you live here?
-No, I see someone.

Me too.

-My analyst.
-Dr. Monnier?

You too?

-Somebody else.
-Another analyst?

Well, yes.

How's it going for you?

Not bad.

And you?

Like the dentist.

It hurts even more after.

I can't use lifts.

-Why not?
-Because I can't.

Just one floor, to try?

Dr. Monnier says I'm not ready.

I wanted--

-Sorry.
-Please.

Please, go on.

My husband doesn't touch me
because...

...he can't get an erection.

I don't really mind.

We could do other things.

But no. In his mind, it's dead.

Well, not quite.

He still has phantoms--

Fantasies?

Yes, fantasies.

He loves to watch me
in the bathroom.

Or going to the bathroom.

No less?

If it helps him, why not?
You understand?

No, I don't.

I'd say he needs therapy.

That's cruel.

Your husband's cruel, isn't he?

He hasn't a leg to stand on.

Don't remind me.

No, I mean, why don't you claim
your freedom?

My freedom isn't to leave him.
It's to get him back.

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.

-I'm sorry.
-Not at all.

Mr. Faber. Coming to see me?

No, just passing by.

Just passing?

-Have you had lunch?
-No.

It's the patient's job
to lead the hunt for clues.

The psychoanalyst knows nothing.

He knows the patient knows,
but the patient doesn't. See?

Not really.

The more I see her,
the less I know what's going on.

-Here's your dessert.
-Thank you.

-And the bill.
-Thank you.

Listen.

Your tie is always perfectly tied.

Your tax affairs are rock-solid.

But let your brush
with psychoanalysis

teach you this, at least:

You do not master everything.

Some things never escape you.

This isn't a consultation,
but feel free to buy me lunch.

I've just had a thought.

Who says she's really married?

Why would she pretend?

You pretended to be a psychiatrist.

She could be a fantasist.

A fake neurotic
consulting a fake shrink.

It fits.

Better still...

...she knew she had the wrong door.

What if she rang
your doorbell deliberately?

Samantha, be reasonable.

I'm sick of being reasonable.
I love you!

Be reasonable.

It's driving me mad!

-Which floor?
-You?

-Sixth.
-Same here.

Had enough of my little stories?

If I had, I'd send you to Dr. Monnier.

-What's he like?
-He fits the part.

No mistaking him for a tax lawyer.

-How about your husband?
-My husband?

What's he like? Does he exist?

Got a cigarette?

-No. What's his name?
-Marc. Satisfied?

-He threw a fit.
-Of what? Jealousy?

He knows I see a doctor.

So now he follows you?

With his leg? How?

I guess he read my diary.

I told him everything
he wants to know.

About what?

I have a lover.

We have sex after work.

He guessed it was you.

-Me?
-That is, the shrink.

It happens, surely.

Whatever made you tell him that?

He wanted me to meet someone.

I don't understand
how you two function.

When we met, I was the lame one.

His gaiety brightened everything up.

His gaiety, yes.

It's a rare word nowadays.

He was always gay.
That's why I loved him.

-And now?
-I care about him.

Then why do you come here?

What do you want from me?

Enough interrogation for today.

My client's still waiting
for the probate certificate.

It's getting urgent. Hold on, please.

Come in. Excuse me.

It's a nuisance!

I'll give you until the 12th
at the very latest.

Thank you for bearing with me.
Goodbye.

Sorry. You're Mr...?

Yes, I'm mister.

Go on.

It's complicated.

I'm used to it. What's your problem?

You are.

You know my wife. Anna.

I'm Marc. She probably told you.

So it happens here.

Dr. Monnier.
I first thought it was him.

Him that's fucking my wife.

I sent a guy to check.

She's not seeing a doctor.

She lied.

That means she's hiding something.

-Look--
-She's not after tax advice.

That's okay.

I don't mind. She's free.

What do you want?

To get a look at you.

-How's the leg?
-She tells you everything.

Everything, no. The accident, yes.

You believed her?

I understand.

Sometimes it's best not to know
the whole story.

You'd better make her happy.

Mr. Faber, your lift's unsafe.

If it falls, there's no brake.

Better hope you're not in it.

What a nice man!

Very.

Faced with Father Joseph's
homosexuality,

Samantha had a breakdown
and attempted suicide,

but Richard saved her just in time.

He bears her no grudge.

Can their love be reborn?

-Where are we at?
-Second floor, nearly.

-Are you okay?
-No! I want to scream!

Go ahead.

-Don't hold back.
-I'm going to scream!

Go on.

-Okay?
-You must think I'm a joke.

No, I know what it's like.

This is a big day for me.

A huge victory.

For me too.

You'll manage by yourself next time.

You won't need to see Dr. Monnier.

Why do you see a psychiatrist?

He needs me. I'm his only patient.

Goodbye.

Coming here,
I had that vacation feeling.

Sunshine reminds me
of my summers in Provence.

Feeling free and easy,

riding mopeds to the beach,
you know?

Vaguely.

-Are you feeling okay?
-I'm fine.

You too, by the look of you.

Yes, I am. Did you notice?

These past few days, for some reason,
I've been feeling happier.

My husband noticed it too,

but naturally, he thinks it's sexual.

He's at it again.
Grilling me about my lover.

So I told him what we do.

We?

With the other man. My lover.

What did you tell him?

Love on the analyst's couch.

The analyst bit turns him on.

It's sexier than a tax lawyer.

With all due respect.

Can we tell everything?

I think so.

When I describe what I do
with my lover, I also get...

I touched myself in the bath.

For once, I got to the top.

Top of what?

"Orgasm" sounds too clinical.

I say "get to the top."

What do you say?

Don't look like that.

-You disapprove?
-Of baths?

How's it going, Mr. Faber?

I don't think I can go on with her.

Naturally. You weren't prepared for it.

Female pleasure's a scary idea
for men.

It revives our primal fears.

We feel like little boys.

You can't stop now.

It's not over till it's over.

Once ajar,
the door to female mystery...

...is hard to shut again.

It's like this, Mr. Faber.

Your father was so...

Such a wonderful man.

We understood each other...

What do you charge her?

Nothing. Don't be absurd.

She should pay. It's the rule.

What goes on?
She talks, you just listen?

-What do you expect?
-From you, nothing.

You never could make
the first move.

It's a strange hang-up.

She must wonder
why you're waiting.

-It's not why she comes.
-Why else?

To recite her orgasms
to a tax lawyer?

Does it get you hard?

You wouldn't understand!

Did you make a vow of celibacy?

You asked my advice.

-Decide what you want.
-I wish I knew.

It's easy. Dump her or hump her.

Or what?

Answer me!

I can't dump her.

You don't want to.

-You're jealous.
-So what?

When we met, you had dreams
of becoming a novelist.

All you do is shelve books.

The dust has soured you.

Good evening.

Who let you in?

Your charming secretary
said I could wait.

I've been looking around.
Nice place.

I saw a nude girl across the way.

Never a dull moment.

What are you doing?
You're hurting me!

You're hurting me too.

Get out. Go on, out!
We have nothing to discuss.

I've been thinking.

The three of us can't go on.

With what?

Your affair.

It's not an affair.

I love her.

That wasn't the plan.

But I sympathize.

Does she know?

You're not the type
I imagined her with.

Still, I'm glad she has somebody.

But...

...no hokey-pokey.

Do it at our place.

You must be kidding.

Do I look like it?

Fuck my wife in my home.

My leg's stiff.

Still has metal in it.

Before I met her, I was a schmuck.

I didn't know girls like her existed.

The woman of my life.

It has to mean something.

Only death can part us.

You're sick.

Love's an incurable sickness.

How's your husband?

Are you really interested?

Yes.

He's calmed down a bit.

He's stopped questioning me.

"The Beast in the Jungle."

About wild animals in Africa?

It's about England
and rather gray, gloomy people.

You can borrow it.

Thanks.

Is that dress new?

Do you like it?

It's very nice on you.

Please, not the light.

Thanks.

Excuse me.
The probate lawyer's on the phone.

-He says it's urgent.
-I'll call him back. Look, I'm busy.

I'll leave you alone.

No, don't. Why?

Your work is more important.

I'll phone you.

Bye.

-More light?
-No, thanks.

That's why when the door
to my office swung open

and a long-haired, leggy dame named
Heather Butkiss came striding in

and told me she was a nudie model,

my salivary glands shifted into third.

-Won't you have a seat, miss?
-I am part of the hotel...

Have a seat, miss.

Hello?

Why the hell are you phoning
at this time of night?

What window?

Goodbye.

The young lady rang
from this number.

-When?
-Ten minutes ago.

-Couldn't you put her through?
-You were busy.

Hello?

Thanks for calling back.

Where are you? At work?

I need to talk to you.

-Now?
-Yes, now.

Come. I'll be waiting.

See you in a minute.

Didn't your hotline forecast rain?

My life's full of surprises these days.

Something to drink?

-Coffee?
-Yes.

No, I'd prefer a glass
of something strong.

I've lost my father.
I mean, his lighter.

-Did I leave it here?
-I'll look.

When I left last time
it was raining, remember?

Guess who I bumped into.
My husband.

Elegantly dressed in a new shirt.

I asked, was he out on a date?

He said yes. With me.

He smiled.

He'd checked into a nearby hotel.

I sat on the bed,
wondering what to do.

He put his hand here, on my neck.

It was violent enough to scare me.

But he started caressing me.

Slowly undressing me.

He fondled my neck, my breasts,
between my legs.

He said sweet words.

He seemed like a different man.

He laid me on the bed,
leaving the light on.

He moved my hand to stroke him.

We clung to each other all night.

Together again.

I won't go into details.

No, do.

Spare me no details.

The mouth, the tongue,

the fingers... The fantasies?

Sado? Maso? Scato?

Penetration? Vaginal? Anal?

What's got into you?

You say it all, but I can't take it all.

I saw you two last night.

The room was opposite my window.

Perhaps you didn't notice.

No.

Your husband came to see me.

I don't believe you.

He came twice. Didn't you know?

-What for?
-To talk about you.

You talk about him,
he talks about you.

Why didn't you tell me?

"Fuck my wife in my home"
was what he said.

But fucking her in view of me
was better.

Did he call anyone from the hotel?

-I don't know.
-He called me.

He told me to watch the show.

Yes?

Shall I ask your next client
to keep waiting?

I'll see him now.

We're done.

You look miserable.

Cheer up.

They say it takes two to be happy,
but divorce improved my life a lot.

I can watch rubbish on TV
and eat huge bags of chips.

Hello.

Here's your book back.

It's not for me.

The story's very moving,
but the ending is sad.

Did you find my lighter?

No.

A little present.

Very kind. Thank you.

Won't you come in?

Just for a minute.

From our new travel collection.

Travel?

Or you can use it for shopping.

-When did we last--?
-Two weeks, two days ago.

I said too much last time.

I didn't mean to shock you,

but I was so happy
to get my husband back.

Or so I thought.

Then a few things sank in
that really hurt.

We talked it through.
I poured my heart out.

Now I feel better.

I'm leaving him.

Leaving him? What if he refuses?

Tough.

I'm claiming my freedom.

Wasn't that your advice?

What about us? Our conversations?

I think we've said it all.

Well...

Anna...

I'm glad you feel better.

Try to be happy.

With whoever you like, but be happy.

Goodbye.

Hi.

Am I early?

-I'd finished working.
-Even on a Sunday?

It passes the time.

I'm catching up. Luc was all
veggies and brown rice.

Was?

Jeanne.

It's over.

Did he leave you?

I left him.

The whole thing stunk, really.

Even in his arms, I felt so lonely.

Remember when we broke up,
you said there are other men?

In fact, there aren't that many.

Sorry. Forget it.

Faber Consulting. Please leave
a message. Speak to you soon.

William? It's-- It's me, Anna.

Are you there? No?

If you are, don't answer.

I can see you
at your desk in your tie.

Not on a Sunday, though.

I've done it.

I've decided to live a new life.

A lighter life.

I'm not a lost little girl anymore.

I think I've grown up. Thanks to you.

I'd never felt so good with anyone.

We could tell each other everything
without cheating or lying.

I didn't think it was possible.

I'm going away.

Far away from everything
to try and make a new start.

Again, thanks to you.

I'm glad I rang the wrong doorbell.

I wanted to thank you.
For everything.

Okay.

Here comes my train.

I'm hanging up.

Goodbye.

Deserting us, Mr. Faber?

Now or never, doctor.

-Any news of that woman?
-She left Paris and her husband.

-So you succeeded.
-Succeeded?

That's the aim of therapy.
Cut the cord.

Move on.

Goodbye, doctor.

This was under your couch.

Thanks.

Five, six, seven, eight...

One, two, three, four,

five, six, seven, eight.

One, two, three, four,

five, six, seven, eight.

One, two, three, four,

five, six, seven, eight.

Stop, stop, stop!

This is no good!

Swan Lake?
More like Elephant Stomp!

Let's start again.
More gracefully, okay?

Back straight.

Again, now. Line up.

Five, six, seven, eight...

Anna...

A message for you.
I didn't quite get it.

Thank you.

Very good.

Viviane, your head!

Come tomorrow at 11:00 if you like.

Be sure to bring your tax return.

We'll need it.

Right. Goodbye, Madame.

See you tomorrow.

Hello.

It's the right place.

The message said
someone has something of mine.

How did you find me?

I called your number.

What number?

The Weather Hotline.

"Rain in the north, sun in the south."

I hesitated,

but I was sure you'd gone south.

Due south. To the sun.

Like in your childhood.
The beach and the mopeds.

You remember everything?

The real question is why.

Why did I look for you everywhere?

I missed our meetings.

Me too.

So...

...where were we?