All language subtitles for English (2)

NETFLIX PRESENTS

-You're it!
-You're it!

Go!

-Here! Quick!
-Got you!

-Yay, it's Kevin!
-How you doing, Kevin?

-How are you, cuz?
-Salam aleikoum. All good.

Grandpa, how are you?

Do you want to listen?

You want to? Here.

Can you hear it?

Are you feeling it? You like it?

-Want a beer, Grandpa?
-No, come on.

-But he likes it.
-Do you want some Perrier?

A beer?

You hold it for him. He's shaking.

-Ready, go!
-One, two, three, go!

Come on. Let's race.

Where is Algeria?

Found it! It's there.
It's that way, Algeria.

Ma'am…

Oh, you shouldn't talk like that.

Calm down. Calm down.

Well, yesterday,

when you were all…

cooking up something or other…

-Cooking?
-Well, no. Of course not. You don't cook.

Imagine that!

Mrs. Smadja, he says it's bedtime.

Amen.

Beddy-byes. I'm off to sleep.

-Anne!
-Amen!

-Ah, yes.
-Hello.

-Hello.
-Here it is!

Look, Grandpa!
You remember the book I told you about?

It's here. Hot off the press.

-Are you pleased?
-Yes.

You told me all about this.

-Leave a bit for Anne.
-It looks great!

-Is that Anne?
-Yes.

"To my children, my grandchildren

and my great-grandchildren
who follow our path."

Grandpa, remember,
this isn't in the bookshops.

Yes.

-It's a book just for us.
-Yes.

Having said that,
we're still going to send

-a copy to Ségolène Royal.
-No.

If you want. You can sign it for her.

Yes.

Ségolène.

My love.

-So, Anne, who do you think he is?
-So…

-Ali.
-No.

-Kevin.
-Kevin!

-Your cousin.
-Right.

-Right. So, that's Matteo.
-Yes.

-My brother.
-Okay. And so… this is Ali.

-Ali, my big bother.
-Okay.

-Eden, my son.
-Yes.

-I saw him once…
-Yes, we've met.

-…at your place.
-My youngest two.

-Happy to be in a book?
-My little Swedes.

Part of the reason your mom wanted
to make this book was for you.

So, chapter one
is his childhood in Algeria.

Arriving in Paris.

Then meeting your grandma.
Love at first sight.

Taking up the communist cause

to defend the weak, the immigrants…

It was just before
he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's.

A few months later he wouldn't have
been able to tell Anne all this.

Thank you, on behalf of my mother.

I know if she could have been here

she would have been grateful beyond words.

There are beautiful photos of her
in there.

-Have you got lice, or what?
-No.

It took a year to write this book.

So are you pleased, Grandpa?

-Very pleased.
-Here's his thesis.

Yes, Emir's thesis

on the condition
of immigrants in Gennevilliers.

My mother.

No, don't cry! Why are you crying?

It's okay.

That's me as a kid.

THE ALGERIAN WAR

I really love that.

They used to take such beautiful photos.

-It's a lovely book, Dad.
-Mom made it.

And this. This photo is sublime.

Look at this book about Dad.

-Beautiful, right?
-Oh, yes.

What do we do
when he's too beautiful?

-That's lovely.
-Love is in the air.

Now, I don't mean to be picky, but…

I would have made it less…

you know, less… traditional.

How is it traditional?

I mean, I'll read it anyway.

For me, it's frightening.

There are always…

Hey! Ties.

Because, sometimes, you meet people,

and act like…

an ass.

-Have you been to Algeria?
-Oh, yes. Algeria.

What was it like there?

How do you say it again?

It was…

paradise.

Really?

Oh, yes. Algeria was paradise.

You know, my grandpa,

he had an apartment in Algiers.

And I used to visit as a girl.

Well, well!

-And my mother lived there, in Algiers.
-In Algiers.

Hello, everyone.

-Hello.
-Hi, Françoise.

-Hello.
-Hello.

-My darling Daddy.
-Hello, sweetheart.

Are you pleased, Grandpa,
with everyone here?

-My darling Daddy.
-Here, let me take a photo.

-Am I too far away?
-No, it's fine.

Grandpa with both his daughters.

-Look at the camera.
-Do you…

Do you want to try being a bit more…

-What?
-A bit more natural.

I am being natural.

I have no photos of you looking natural.

Cut it out with the "natural" stuff.

What about you?
You're wearing a ton of makeup.

-You're the picture of natural.
-What did I do to you?

Nothing. But you look like Amy Winehouse
in all that makeup.

And you're picking on Mom.

-No.
-Caroline…

I'm sick of this. Khalas!

You'll have to take the handlebars
He's lost all his teeth

Eyes closed. Careful, or it will sting.

You've got hot water here, too.

Not at my place.
Things are tough for me right now.

She doesn't cook
She doesn't even wash your boxers

She such a pain
She deserves a good smack

She gets food stamps
Pops out kids, goes on welfare

Are these your pajamas?

This way is tennis-style.

This way…

is Scarface-style.

Since he thinks I made it

It's obvious…

There's no one to bust our balls

And we'll smoke everything

Who cares?
There's a cleaner anyway, right?

Well, this is nice.

And that alarm won't go off, right?

Aren't there alarms in rooms like this?

Careful. Don't do that to me.

Or I won't get high with you.

I can see you were crazy like me.

For sure.
I'm putting the ash down there, okay?

What's this nice tune? Do I know it?

Don't worry.
We'll go back to Algeria.

Don't cry. Please.

Is it a penalty?

-No, it's a foul.
-One-nil.

-No way.
-He's shooting in the thingy.

Come on. It's a corner. We have to score.

-No.
-Yes! Come on.

Come on!

I'm too hot.

Whew! Where are the attendants, please?

I don't know.

Damn! A hundred degrees in the corridor
and no attendants?

Oh, yes!

Here they are, little bitches.

Smoking instead of doing their job.

Busy trimming your pubes, girls?

There we go.

There. Have a good laugh.

There you go!

We pay 3,000 euros for my grandpa.

Per month!
And you can't keep an eye on him at night?

If I wasn't here, my grandpa
could have gotten in trouble

because that chick was smoking.

Firstly, she's not a chick.

-You can't--
-She's not a chick.

Ah, okay. Sorry, then.

-We're not friends, sir.
-Well…

-I'll upload this on my social media.
-Yes. And then?

Add a little hashtag and you'll see.

Why is he here?

-Excuse me?
-Why are you here?

You can't spend the night here.

You have to follow the rules.

-It's okay.
-No, it's not okay.

Have a nice day. Goodbye.

Are you okay, Mr. Fellah?
Everything okay?

Have you drunk your coffee?

-Okay, Mr. Robert?
-I'm fine.

My husband is just fine.

Ooh! Your wife's a fiery one.

You chose well, Mr. Robert.

-Old bag!
-She's there.

Mr. Renard?

You okay?

-No.
-No?

Well, looks like no one's okay today.
It's a bad day.

-Excuse me?
-It's a bad day.

Nothing's working out.

Yes, pretty bad.

Why are we hot?

Because it's hot, ma'am.

Why are we so hot, bitch?

Grandpa, you were crazy.
You really loved Algeria.

You hid weapons
in your kids' schoolbags.

-Why are we hot?
-Grandpa?

-Why are we so hot? Fucking hell.
-Grandpa?

Because it's August, ma'am.

-Yes, thank you.
-You're welcome.

That's kind.

Hello? Sir?

Are you okay?

-All good?
-I'm fine.

All good? Just chilling.

Isn't my song better?
I'll sing my song for you.

-Why are we hot?
-You'll see.

Back from Marseille,
sick beats in my ears,

Hair brushed, clean clothes

Hair brushed…

I forgot.
I'll go get my lyrics, Grandpa.

Why are we hot, bitch?

Ma'am, it's August.

-That's why.
-Why are we hot?

It's August.
That's why it's hot.

When young people go from bad to worse
They must learn to help themselves

I'm proud of…

Why are we thirsty?

-Grandpa?
-Why are you here?

Excuse me!

What's going on?

Something's not right.
He's not answering.

-Mr. Fellah?
-Grandpa?

-Can I come in?
-No, please leave.

-But I want to see him.
-Please leave.

-We'll take care of him.
-Please.

Why are we hot?

Sir, I'm sorry.
There was nothing we could do.

What?

What?

We are very sorry.

I don't want your bullshit apologies.

On the Quran, it's not true.

Why's he doing that to us?

Why did they do that, the idiots?

Ma'am…

what do you mean "I'm sorry"?
Say it like it is.

Is he dead or not?

He's dead.

We are really sorry.

Sir…

He didn't suffer.

Grandpa.

We messed up.

You took the place
of my mother and father. Thank you.

I'll stop messing around.

I didn't even finish the song.

I didn't even finish it.

-Mom?
-What is it?

What is it?

Please accept my condolences.

Thank you.

-We're here for you.
-Thank you.

However, the room
must be vacated by midday tomorrow.

Midday, 12:15. There's no…

Midday, 12:15?
Half past is no good?

Yes, half past is fine, of course.

Can I go in or not?

-Of course.
-Go in.

And if you cry, that's fine.

If you just start crying
and don't know why,

it doesn't matter.

Everybody cries.

Boys don't cry. They're strong.

Liar.

No.

The last time I cried…

was two months ago.

Me, the day before yesterday.

Why did you cry?

I hurt myself.

Well, we'll have to get things organized.

-For the funeral?
-Yes.

But the manager just said--

I don't care about the manager…

Rest, Grandpa.

Rest.

But how long can he stay in his room?

-What?
-Midday tomorrow.

Are they crazy? They're not going
to kick us out at midday?

No, but they said 12, 12:10.

Lilah.

My little Lilah.

-You okay?
-Neige is inside.

-I don't want to see her.
-Don't make a scene.

-Hi.
-Hi.

-At least say hello.
-Fine. If you want.

We're all going in now, anyway.
We've waited long enough as it is.

Gently, now.

Hello.

Darling.

-I want to see Grandpa.
-Later.

-Hello.
-Hello.

I heard you talking about…
getting things organized.

Would it be possible

to take my thoughts into account, too?

-What would you like?
-With Grandma, you did it too quickly.

We didn't get a sense of her personality,
her life, her struggle.

I thought it was
a bit of an off-the-shelf funeral.

I wouldn't like… that for him.

Françoise.

-What are you doing?
-Closing his mouth.

Stop. No.

What are you doing? Hey!
Stop touching him.

-Does it bother you?
-No.

-It's fine.
-There's no need to touch him.

Yes.

We're not going to wake him.

The cremation will be in five days' time.

I'm sorry, I can't be there.

-What?
-What?

I won't be here.
I fly to Greece tomorrow.

You could make an effort.
You could stay for a bit.

It's been planned for ages.
I have to go tomorrow.

Your grandfather gave you everything,
and you're going to leave

-without saying goodbye?
-I'm saying goodbye now.

Go on, get lost, then.

Make an effort. Stay.

Shit, I didn't want
to bring this up now, but…

I may have trouble
making the funeral as well.

-What?
-He's such a copy-cat.

Well, it's not definite.

-Honestly!
-Is this a joke?

-No.
-Are you kidding?

-You should be ashamed.
-Could you just be quiet?

For once in our life.

Here, now.

Quiet.

It's driving me mad.

There.

Hold on.

You need to vacate the room please, ma'am.

Yes. Can you wait one more minute?

Don't move. That's it.

Do you think I could keep his pajamas?

Yes.

-Listen.
-I can't make them wait anymore.

-Let them in.
-Come on. Let's go.

Come on, gentlemen.

My condolences to you both.

Do you have any clothes for him?

-No.
-No.

Could I get his pajamas back?

-At the funeral home, of course.
-Okay.

-Did he wear any jewelry?
-No.

No? Okay.
I'll come find you when we've finished.

Okay.

-Okay, ready?
-Okay.

I'll leave you a section
of the death certificate.

You'll need to register it at city hall.

My condolences once again.

Goodbye, ladies, gentlemen.

I don't want to see this. I don't want to.

You need to clear out
the room now, please.

Ma'am, we need to sort out his belongings

as a family, in peace, please.

Thank you.

-I'll take the sheets.
-Yes.

How shall we do this?

We don't have any bags,
or anything. How…

-Do you have bags?
-Do you have bags?

I'll just check with my colleague.

Okay, thank you.

Kevin.

-Did you like this?
-What?

Do you want to keep it?

I'm sorry,
all I could find was trash bags.

-What do we do with those?
-You should have come prepared.

-Prepared for my grandfather dying?
-Thank you, ma'am.

Here, Auntie. You fold them.

I can't even touch them.
I don't have the strength.

Here's a roll.
That should be enough.

-Perfect. Thank you, ma'am.
-Sorry to take it out on you.

I'll leave them there.

-Thank you, ma'am.
-His cap…

You want help?

-What about my pillow and my sheet?
-In there.

-Have we got everything?
-Hold on!

Check we have everything.

-Open it.
-What?

Open it to check.

It's all there, Neige.

INTIMATE SÉGOLÈNE. HER FAMILY SECRETS.

Well, personally, I'd like a nice hardwood

that does justice to my father.

Would you like an oak casket?

-Yes.
-Okay.

Well, Grandpa was never one
for… anything very showy.

I think the 100-euro coffin is very…
It's fine.

-It's going to be burnt.
-What's it made of?

-Cardboard.
-Oh, no. We're not moving house.

-It's going to be burnt, Auntie.
-No.

-Out of the question.
-Or pine?

-That's 100 euros as well.
-No.

Is that solid pine?

-Yes, absolutely.
-No, the pine one's ugly. It's too IKEA.

We're burning it.
We don't need to spend 1,500 euros.

Exactly. Why grow a tree,

-then chop it down…
-Exactly.

-…to make a casket, then burn it?
-She's gone green.

For once, I agree with Caro.

There's the cardboard.
That's even more eco-friendly.

Cardboard isn't green, it's processed.

Who doesn't want this coffin?
Raise your hand.

-What?
-Who doesn't want the cardboard?

-Me. I don't want it.
-I don't.

Okay. Let's put that to one side.

-No, but I…
-But we voted!

So no one cares what I think?

It's not like that. We voted.

Okay. No one cares what I say.

-Ali. Stay here.
-Stay here.

He's being ridiculous.

He never used to be, but he's getting
a bit rigid in his thinking.

You're not wrong.

He should start smoking weed, you know...

Make sure the funeral goes off
with a bhang.

No. There won't be a bang.

A bhang.

-Oh bhang.
-Bhang. You get it?

Don't worry,
nothing you say here leaves this room.

Have you got…
You know, like for carpets.

-Where you can see the different types?
-Wood samples.

We do indeed.

See the difference?
How beautiful the oak is?

Forget the whole pine-and-oak thing.

In fact, I might have recommended oak,
if it weren't a cremation.

So, let's go with the pine.
The pine? Let's vote.

-For.
-So, you agree.

-We all agree.
-Yes.

Okay, I give in.

Okay, that's the first step.

-Now we choose…
-What's next?

-…the lining.
-What's that?

-The soft fabric. No?
-The lining is the fabric

inside the casket.

Well, we want white.

-White.
-I have one option in white. Here.

Does it have to be so shiny?

There's no matte?

-So, in matte, we have this.
-I see something I liked--

Ah, that's much better.

-That's like a curtain.
-It's ugly.

What I like is that it's matte.

Yes, but we can't.

-We're not choosing this thing--
-Is the pattern on the other side?

-No, of course not. She's crazy.
-Get off me!

-We'll take this one.
-Stop throwing things!

Okay, I'll give it back gently.
There you go.

This one is the best.

-Do we agree?
-Yes, all agreed on that one.

-Last question.
-Let's vote.

Will the white of the djellaba
go with this white?

Don't start fussing
over different shades of white.

You're looking at it like this,
with your owl eyes.

Even if he has a white djellaba,

we're not going to check
every little thing.

Why do you keep
throwing things around?

Because we'll go crazy.
Go crazy on your own.

Don't infect us with your madness!

When you paint your apartment,
you think, "Oh, I'm going to do a--"

-But this isn't an apartment!
-But it's a color!

-See? You hit things too.
-You're right. Sorry. Oh…

Okay then, we've decided on this one.

-We've decided!
-You prefer that one?

-Yes.
-Okay. The yellow one

-that looks like it's been peed on.
-It's not yellow-- She's started again.

I can't take this anymore, ma'am. I swear.

Let's keep it simple, like the casket.
Let's stick to white.

Can I do one thing?

-Go on, Françoise.
-One second.

Look at it from a distance.

Not the pissy one! The white one!

You could say it nicely,
you don't have to say "pissy."

-Fine.
-You could say "ivory."

Why won't you let it go?
You're not choosing your wedding dress.

My family's really embarrassed me here.

-It doesn't matter.
-You really do have time to waste.

-But having time to waste…
-Yes.

…isn't a waste of time.

What does that even mean?

Is organizing Dad's funeral
a waste of time?

If I may,
I think you were there for him every day?

-Yes.
-That's the important thing.

-He was always supported.
-Who votes for white?

-Okay.
-Let's choose the urn together.

There. Thanks, Auntie.

Would anybody like
to keep the urn at home?

-No.
-Just a little of the ashes.

-I would.
-No one?

-You would?
-Then, it's yours.

There we go.

I'd really like him
to wear a djellaba and babouches.

A little camel, with…

a bottle of olive oil…

When he got home in Paris,

he would put on
a djellaba and babouches.

It suited him. He loved it.

Grandpa wore a three-piece suit every day,
because he wanted to fit in,

like "a little French man," as you put it.

Alain Delon was his role model.
He loved Yves Montand.

I don't think he would have wanted
to dress up as a raghead

-now that he's dead.
-It's not dressing up!

I have to say, I'm all for the mosque,
Neige, and all that.

Yes.

But, yes, Auntie, you see…

Grandpa had nothing to do with the mosque.
He wasn't religious.

Why suddenly bring the mosque into it?

-He's got a point.
-He was always anti-religious.

He only sang Quranic songs
towards the end…

-Yes.
-…because that's what he knew.

That doesn't make him pro-Islam
or a Muslim.

But we don't go to the mosque

because we're pro-Islam either.

We're looking for something spiritual,

just like Grandpa
over the last few years.

-A ritual.
-If there's a mosque involved,

-I'm not coming.
-Fine, don't.

-I won't, then.
-Don't say that, Kevin.

Of course you're coming.

So you're taking us hostage?

You're mixing up two things.
It's not about being French or Muslim.

You can be French and a Muslim.

Of course, but he wasn't a Muslim.

But somebody can absolutely be
part of the Muslim culture,

-without being religious.
-Uh--

-We respect where he came from.
-No, we respect where we are.

-I talked to Grandpa too.
-Not properly.

-Maybe you didn't listen right.
-I listened just fine. He raised me.

I think intelligent people
are open-minded.

-And a sectarian is an idiot.
-Hold on.

-By being sectarian and saying…
-I'm open.

…"If we go to a mosque, I'm not going,"
you show yourself to be an idiot.

Thanks, Mom.
I think you're the sectarians.

You're suddenly in a Muslim frenzy,

-and want to impose it on Grandpa.
-We're not in a Muslim frenzy.

-What's this about a mosque, then?
-You're the one in a frenzy.

-Why are you against the mosque?
-Because he wasn't Muslim.

-He sang Quranic songs.
-That doesn't mean anything.

For you, maybe. It does for us.

For you. For your burial…

-You're in a frenzy.
-Oh, shit.

Fine! For you.

So have your funeral in a mosque,
but leave Grandpa alone.

It's selfish!
You're just thinking of yourself!

You're just thinking of yourself!

I'm thinking about him.
I want it to fit him.

-It fits him!
-No, it fits you.

-No.
-Your beliefs.

Because you want it for your funeral.

Could we have an herbal tea, please?
Thank you.

Make sure
you don't let the sadness take over.

Don't go all masochistic.

I'm okay.

I just need a minute.

And my sister doesn't want to go.

Really? Why?

Who knows? She wouldn't say.
She said. "I'm going to Greece."

Can you believe it?

Things seem better between you.
That's progress.

It's no big deal.

Don't fall out
like all those other stupid families.

-See you later, then.
-See you later.

-See you later.
-See you later.

-Okay?
-Okay.

I'm going to make you an omelet…
with chorizo.

Hello?

Can you hear me?

-Have you left the gas on?
-Yes.

Under the pan.
That's the key to cooking.

But is it lit?

Yes.

So why is the gas loud like that?

Because I can't take it anymore!

And I'm taking you with me!

Remind me
to borrow five grand off you, okay?

You should always borrow
from people who are suffering.

-Why?
-Because they don't care.

They want to shoot themselves.
So 5,000 euros is nothing.

Don't be mad.
I'm hiding the sharp knives.

Can't be too careful with you.

You know, I bumped into a friend earlier.

-Know what she said?
-What?

She said, "Jeez, François."
I said, "Yes…

What?"
She said, "You've gained a bit."

I said, "Gained a bit of what?"
"Weight."

So I said, "Where?"
"On your hips."

I have to say, I was offended.

But when you're single…

-You're still single?
-Well, yeah.

It didn't last with that girl?

We both agreed to end it.

She agreed more than me, but…

I don't miss her, though.

-You'll have to be careful.
-Why?

You have to meet someone.
I won't always be here.

Soon I'll have an amazing life with
an amazing woman, who'll take care of me.

Who will want to cure my anxiety.

What was your grandfather's funeral like?

-What was it like?
-Yes.

-Really lovely.
-Really lovely?

Splendid.

Meaning?

-An indescribable emotion.
-You're pulling my leg.

No.

I'm telling you,
it really made you want to die.

He always talked about suicide,
but died a natural death.

-What's a natural death?
-I mean he just died.

He didn't kill himself.
You see the difference?

-Oh, yeah.
-Between suicide and natural death.

-Do you want to put anything in?
-Yeah…

my song book.

Ségolène Royal.

It would have been nice if you'd called.

To console us.

"Hello, Neige. My condolences.
How are things?"

You know, just a few fatherly words.
From a father to his children.

I'm not taking lessons in morality
from a little middle-class woman

who can't even spell, okay?

Because it's all about class, right?
Bourgeois or not bourgeois?

Is that funny?

No. It doesn't make me laugh.
It's stupid.

-It's you who's stupid.
-Maybe.

Can poor people be stupid, or not?

Oh, so I can call you poor and a moron?

-Yeah, why not?
-Yeah?

-You're a poor jerk.
-Okay.

Why did you even speak to him?

He's an asshole.

Why do you always seek his approval?
You should know better.

You invited him, right?

-We didn't.
-Not me.

-Who told him to come?
-Not me.

-Who was it?
-Definitely not me.

-Was it you?
-Yeah, I sent him a message.

-Wasn't it you?
-It was him.

Yeah, it was me.

Okay, I have a few words…

from Anne. You remember?
She wrote the book with Grandpa.

She can't come.
She asked me to read a few words.

No.

-You don't want me to?
-No.

Why? We're all fine with it.

I don't care.
She's not part of the family.

Look. It's about Grandpa.
She spent a year with him.

-I don't give a damn!
-Caroline, that's enough.

Ladies and gentlemen,
the ceremony is about to begin.

-Is it okay?
-Sure, read your stupid speech.

…followed by the rest of the gathering.

Auntie, it's your song.

I'd like to forget about time
For an instant or a sigh

An aside after the race
And go where my heart takes me

I'd like to unhook the moon
I'd even like to save the Earth

But above all,
I'd like to speak to my father

Speak to my father

I'd like to get back to my path
Where my life is, where my place is

And keep the gold of my past
Safe in my secret garden

I'd like to unhook the moon
I'd like to travel the Earth

But above all,
I'd like to speak to my father

Speak to my father

Thank you.

What I'll remember
about my grandfather is…

his life-long love of his country.

At 22, he was forced
to go into exile secretly

to get to France.

For us…

Sorry.

For us, in our family…

our grandfather
was always the backbone.

The only really stable one

whose wisdom and goodness
held us together around him.

Peacefully.

He was a strong supporter of secularism.

He was deeply anti-religious.

He hated religion. All religions.

Now, Grandpa,

now you've left us for…

heaven…

pray for us…

for our divided family.

Amen.

My God.

That was good.

He's completely lost it.

I had my grandfather's memoirs written
with the help of a friend.

"Emir always greeted me
for our work sessions

impeccably dressed.

But above all, I believe--"

I'm going to...

pay tribute to my father.

Dad, you fought all your life.

Never for you.

Always for others.

The poor, the exiled, the…

refugees.

You fought for them.

You gave them dignity.

You were a communist.

And proud to be so.

Coming back from Marseilles

Sick beats in my ears

I'm washed, I'm fresh

I'm no longer doing wrong
I've grown up a bit

I'm as white as snow,
or maybe as Neige

In one word, joking aside

You can be proud of me, Émir

The role model I have my sights set on
The father I don't have

I'm proud to bear your name

I've loved it since I was a kid

It's your blood in my veins

You're in my DNA

For my grandpa,
the best magician of them all.

He had the strength to write a book,

even though he had Alzheimer's.

He fought in a war,

and I'm really proud to be his grandson.

So, for my grandfather

the biggest and best, for magic.

Can I have a little bit?

You're toxic, Neige.

-Excuse me?
-You're toxic.

-What do you mean, I'm toxic?
-You're toxic, like Mom.

You stress me out.

-Shall we?
-You're leaving because of me?

"You're toxic," and he splits.

Children…

If I passed away,

would you be sad?

Yes.

Am I important to you?

-Yes.
-You're a lovely boy, you know?

What would you say
to seeing each other more often?

Answer me! Don't just stare.

-Stop it.
-No.

-Stop it.
-Why?

Just stop.

They're my darling grandsons.

-What if we got together once a week?
-Go see my mom.

-I don't know what she's up to.
-Say something!

Hold on a minute. Gosh!

I forgot to tell them something.
Caroline, I have to speak to them.

-I'm their grandmother. I can listen.
-I'll tell you afterwards.

I'll even save your seat.

I think I gave birth to half-wits.

So, Pierre…

-How's the Turkish delight?
-Pretty good.

-Have you asked for a doggy bag?
-I might just do that.

Shall I tell you a joke about pedophiles?

What's a pedophile?

You don't know?

People who love peas and dough.

Any kind of peas and dough.
Like that, for example, that's dough.

-Doesn't he know what a pedophile is?
-No.

What are we waiting for?

We're waiting for Grandpa, but apparently…

I'm sure he's happy here.
He always liked barbecues.

Did you get the joke?

Ah, I just got it!

-You mean he liked parties?
-Huh?

Barbecue. He's being cremated.
It's like he's being barbecued.

May I?

-Your face.
-What?

-May I touch your face?
-Yes.

Thank you.

You're Algerian?

-What?
-You're Algerian.

You're Algerian like me.

You are.

No, no. Don't cry.

You are. Don't cry.

Don't cry.

No. I am too.

No, don't cry.

CONFIRMING YOUR PAYMENT DETAILS

I'm sorry about what happened.

Forgive me.

I wasn't in my right mind.

It's your grandfather who…

made us a family. It was him.

He was the one who…

brought us together, so that,

with everything that divides us,
we were still a family.

But now, I'm worried that

now that he's gone,

I'm worried that…

you won't come to see me anymore.

You know, you're strong-willed too.

You give as good as you get.

You're not afraid of hurting people.

So why don't you understand?

You think it's normal at my age
that I'm still scared of you?

But I wanted you
to be completely fearless.

-But I'm scared of you.
-Why? Scared of what?

I'm always scared you'll hit me.

I'm always scared you'll…
be nasty to me in front of everyone.

-None of that matters.
-But it does matter.

-No.
-At my age, it matters.

It does. I want to find inner peace.

-No. Just the opposite.
-Yes.

-You shouldn't rest.
-You're fucking unbelievable.

You shouldn't conform.
You shouldn't keep your head down.

Maybe the only thing I'm good for

is to keep you on your toes.

You mustn't be scared of me.
What are you actually scared of?

That I'll embarrass you?
I don't care about that.

-Well, I do care.
-Why?

Why do you want to conform?

It's not about conforming.

I've had enough of all the drama.

Drama is no big deal.

-Yes, it is.
-It's not.

You never had all that.

-All this fuss all your life--
-Are you crazy?

You don't know what it was like for me,
growing up back then.

You don't know I was beaten up.

I had to deal
with shouting and insults too.

But it didn't destroy me.

I think that's why Dad loved me.

Because nothing-- You hear me?
Nothing would have made me give in.

Oddly enough,
I thought you were like me.

I thought you had that in you.
This thing that couldn't be broken.

I don't want you to give up.

-I don't want you to be scared.
-That didn't work out. I'm scared of you.

-We can't…
-Look, when you touch me,

-I can't stand it.
-Why?

I don't want to be touched anymore.

No.

Please. Don't touch me.
I can't stand you touching me.

So I…

-So I'm a total failure.
-No, but…

this can't go on.

I love you. I swear, I do.

But touching, hugging…
With you, it scares me.

The touch of your skin scares me.

Do I disgust you?

Yes.

I'm sorry.

But yes.

So…

I can't stand your smell.

I'm sorry.

There's nothing else I can say.

But I love you.

Truly, I love you.

-But later. Much later.
-This is later.

-It's later now.
-No, when I die.

You will love me

for the very same things
that disgust you now.

And then I'll be gone.

Neige.

Shame

Ali?

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday

Okay.

Yeah! Good job!

-I want to make a toast.
-Yeah?

I've got something important to say.
Louise and I are getting married.

-Cheers!
-Congratulations!

Congratulations!

-I'm very proud to be taking your name.
-So are we.

What do you mean proud?
I don't understand.

Louise Robert.
I think it sounds good, don't you?

What, Neige?
You're not happy for me?

No, you don't get it. I'm just surprised
anyone would want the name Robert.

It's her husband's name. That's it.

You're getting me wrong.

-It's just the law. You change your name--
-No, of course you can keep your name.

I like "Robert."
It's a boy's name. It's nice.

-And it's very ordinary.
-Is that your aim to be ordinary?

And they can call their kid Robert Robert.

"Robert Robert"?

Some things are just obvious.
Once-in-a-lifetime things--

-What?
-What are you doing?

Nothing. Talking to your sister.

There are more important things to discuss

You're not going to sulk all night,
are you?

I really like you, François,
but sometimes…

you really miss the point.

Miss the point.
There's a point, and I've missed it.

Oh no, come on now, no burping!

The balcony will collapse.

Go on then, launch your accusations.

Start the trial. Go on, it's time.

So, why have you fallen out with her?

We don't have the same values,
interests or…

-But, that's--
-…sense of gratitude.

Ah, so gratitude means being at a funeral?

Being there, yes.

I think we honor the people we've loved
by being present.

I don't feel the way you do about things.

I experience them differently.

-Is that why I'm ungrateful?
-That's it.

No, Neige.

I didn't want to be there.

See? She didn't want to go the funeral.

She wanted to be alone. Okay?

Come on, Neige.

Don't worry. It'll help.

You don't want to throw up?

She's got nothing to throw up anyway.

-What?
-She's stopped eating.

The girl's stopped eating.

See ya?

I'm completely sloshed.

ALGERIA
1954-1962

AN ILLUSTRATED HISTORY
OF THE ALGERIAN WAR

-Hello.
-Hello.

Sofiane!

Excuse me, sir?

-Ma'am?
-I don't understand. It's showing 35,

and I have 456.

Yes, it's not working, ma'am.

Welcome to Algeria! What can I do for you?

Well, I'd like to get
my Algerian citizenship.

-Excellent decision.
-Exactly.

I've got all the paperwork in my bag.

Except…

my mother's Algerian paperwork,

because we're not speaking.

I was wondering if the consulate

could look in their archives
for her old papers?

You want us to search the paperwork
of 35 million Algerian women,

to find your mother's?

-Yes.
-That's it?

Can you imagine
if everybody asked us that?

Yes, but not everybody
is asking you for this.

So you want us to make an exception?

You're already a little bit Algerian.

-Come with me.
-Thank you.

JUNE 19, 1965

Two days later,

the people of Algiers find tanks
in the city center at dawn.

The Algerians hear about the coup

thanks to a radio report played on a loop.

Ben Bella had been overthrown

by men acting
in the name of the Revolutionary Council.

…a Revolutionary Council was created.
It took all the measures--

DNA RESULTS AVAILABLE

READY TO EXPLORE YOUR ETHNIC BACKGROUND?

-What are you expecting?
-I'm expecting…

-At least--
-Well, my mother--

What percentage would disappoint you?

My mother is 50% Algerian, so, I am--
Half of 50 is 25.

-So I'm expecting 25% Algerian.
-What about your dad?

My dad is a quarter Vietnamese.

-So if he's a quarter, I have seven…
-Yes.

So I have seven percent.

-Hold on. He's a quarter…
-Vietnamese.

And 25… Algerian.

-Okay?
-So…

I don't want to look.

Ready?

"Neige, you are…"

What is this crap?

Stop messing around!

Thirty-five…

point four percent Iberian.

-Iberian? What's that?
-Spain.

Did you think it was a taxi company?

-Wait. What? Spain?
-I'll just call an "Iber."

-Stop joking! Look at what it says.
-Yes. 35.4% Iberian.

Greek and Southern Italian, 17.3%.

-Italian, 15.7%.
-Look.

North African, 14.8%.

That's impossible. I don't get it.

That's what the Green Party scored
last time, and they were pumped.

-You have 14.8%…
-Wait.

That's impossible.
That's not what I thought at all.

Thirty-five percent Iberian.
But I'm not Spanish.

Are you going to get all depressed
because you're 35% Iberian?

Well, there we go. The die is cast.

Hey, let's have a look at the matches.

-Apparently you can find cousins.
-Amazing.

-Look, 73 pages of cousins.
-Jonathan Chartier.

First cousin, three times removed.

-Yes.
-Longest segment: 21.6 cm.

And what is his longest segment, exactly?

I don't know.

His segment is 21.6 cm long.
What does that mean?

Hang on.

I'm sorry,
but that's better than Juan Dipolito.

Trustworthiness: average.

If you lend him money,
don't expect it back.

Clément Toiteau.

-Yeah.
-In his thirties.

-Yeah.
-Suddenly she's interested.

What are his hobbies?
What are his interests?

"Yeah." Do you want to know the length
of his longest segment? 21.6 cm.

So all your cousins
have the same size cock. Look at that!

-It's amazing.
-Look, I'm 5% Asian.

-Filipino, Indonesian and Malaysian.
-That's from my dad.

I'd like to know what comes from Dad
and what comes from Mom.

There must be a way to get exact figures.

Hey. I'm a little early.
I was in the neighborhood.

-Do you mind?
-Not at all.

-Am I the first?
-Yes.

If you like, I can help lay the table.

Not yet.

-I'm just finishing something off.
-Oh, yes.

How are you?

Not great.

I feel a bit lost.

And do you have any idea…

why?

Yes, but I'm worried
about how you'll react.

Would you give me some of your saliva
for a full DNA test?

No. You know…

You should have gotten
more of an education,

because then you'd know that all that
is for weak, stupid people.

Won't you do the test for me?
Give me some saliva?

No, I won't do that.

-I never ask you for anything.
-It's a definite no.

And I don't like being taken for a fool.
Spend your money on--

Why are you annoyed?

Because I don't want to talk about it.
It winds me up.

It's hard to find a topic
that doesn't make you aggressive.

That must mean something.

Is talking about your snakes

-the only way to get you to be nice?
-Yes.

What?

I don't know, it's just, I…

You're a quarter Vietnamese

and you've never talked about your roots.

I find it strange.

I knew your father before he died.

He always took us
to the Vietnamese restaurant.

He looked Asian.

But you never talk about him.

-Why not?
-Because I'm not at all interested.

I came here very young,
and I'm French first and foremost.

And very proud of it, too.

Very, very proud.

Who do you vote for?

-Do we really need to get into all that?
-Yes.

Last time, I didn't vote.

Before that, I voted Le Pen,
if that's what you want to know.

I don't want that to make you cry.

Well, then. I'll let you cry in peace.

Wow, this is really good.
Not bad, huh?

Have you ever been to the Basque Country?

-Yes.
-Have you?

-Who's been to the Basque Country?
-Me.

The food there is incredible.

I went to a restaurant with a Basque chef,

now every time I eat oysters
I think of that place.

Although after you eat there
you can't eat for a week afterwards.

Everything else tastes like shit.

Oh, yeah?

So now you're nice to our brother.

You used to call him a bastard.

-It wasn't meant badly.
-No.

"Bastard" isn't mean.

When I was little,
I didn't like you calling him a bastard.

-Bastard?
-Yeah. Bastard.

Because he had a different father.

Our mom cheated on our dad.

And had Matteo.

-Yeah.
-Do you have a rice cooker?

I don't know what they do.
I like things simple.

Yeah. It's not as good with a rice cooker.

You know,
they were invented by Joe's brother.

-No.
-Joe?

-Joe Cocker.
-Joe Cooker.

Red or white Burgundy?

I like red.

Côte de Beaune for me, dude.

Don't you think it smells a bit weird?

-What, that?
-Smell it.

Let me smell it.

Why won't you give her your saliva?

-Give her your saliva.
-It's the only thing she's ever asked for!

-Your saliva!
-Come on, Pierre!

You think
you're the only one who gets violent?

Give her your saliva. The test!

Come on, Pierrot! The test!

The test. Come on!

The test!

Come on, Pierrot!

-Hey, you're all crazy!
-There you go!

There you go!

You're all crazy.

-What?
-You're actually crazy.

-No.
-You. You're crazy.

You're all crazy.

Neige! You're crazy.
You realize that, right?

Wake up!

-How you doing?
-I'm good.

Why are you making all that noise?

That's how you drink it.

What do you mean?

That's how you drink mint tea
back home.

-Really?
-Yeah.

I don't remember that.

The more noise you make,
the more Algerian you are.

Not quite there yet.

-Do you know how to say "mint" in Arabic?
-No.

I can't say it right, either.

Little sister.

THE QUESTION

THE DESERT AT DAWN

SPECIAL SERVICES ALGERIA

OCTOBER IN PARIS

THE PORTERS

THE ART OF LOSING

OUR RICHES

ALGERIAN WOMEN

This is the intelligence service.

The National Liberation Front
has ordered all Algerians

to protest in the streets this evening.

The protests are against

the recently introduced curfew.

We have seized banners
with the following slogans:

"Down with the racist curfew."
"Full independence for Algeria."

Stop racism!

Around 500 Algerians
have been held in a metro tunnel.

Observers estimate
that there are 4,000 protesters.

The number of Algerians
has grown steadily since eight p.m.

The police reacted with violence.

11,538 Muslims have been arrested.

When we reached the Pont Saint-Michel,

we were stopped by a barrage of policemen.

And I saw three people
thrown into the Seine.

ALGERIANS DROWNED HERE

IN REMEMBRANCE OF THE MANY ALGERIANS

KILLED DURING THE BLOODY REPRESSION
OF THE PEACEFUL PROTEST

OF OCTOBER 17TH, 1961

Hello, ma'am. I'm Dr. Michelet.

-How are you feeling?
-Fine.

Do you know where you are?

-Why are you talking so loudly?
-Do you know where you are?

Yes, in the hospital.

You're in the hospital.

Do you know how long you've been here?

Since last night, or…

Do you remember anything?

You were found unconscious on the bridge.

Yes, I remember everything.

Ms. Robert, what worries me

is that you're severely undernourished.

That is why you are on a drip today. Okay?

And?

So, I would like to know
how long it's been since you last ate.

I don't know, I'm not keeping track…

Stop staring at me like that,
with those eyes, it's…

-I feel like I'm in an asylum.
-You are very angry.

I know that you're an adult,

but have you told your parents?

No.

When you arrived in the emergency room,
you were talking about your father.

You seemed very angry with him.

You were talking about a test.

If my father comes here,
would you be able to take some saliva?

-No.
-You couldn't say

it's for blood tests for me, or something?

No, I can't ask him to do that.

Is it very important?

Yes.

Are you feeling better?

Yes.

You want to eat something?

Hello, everyone.

All good?

How's it going?
I'm good. Cool, bro. Fine.

So, I got you a bunch of books
about Arabs.

I just want the little one called Nedjma.

There you go.

I don't know what you see in Arabs.

-Do you have anything to eat, François?
-No. There you go.

What's that?

-Nedjma. Kateb Yacine.
-Okay.

You know "Neige" comes from "Nedjma."

Our father didn't like the name "Nedjma."

So they chose "Neige."

Oh, because of…
job interviews, that kind of thing.

"Nedjma" wouldn't go down too well.

Hello?

Yes.

Yes.

Hello?

Yes.

Okay.

Thank you, sir.

Sir, could I have my sister's ID, please?

Sir!

-Excuse me, could I see that man?
-Nadir?

-Ma'am.
-Hello.

I'm just finishing something.

Here, this is for the secretary.

Okay, here it is.

Ready to go. Shiny and new.

I just need your signature.

And your ID.

-My ID?
-Your French ID.

I told you on the phone,
you need to bring your ID.

Looking for this?

-She's my sister.
-What?

She wants to become Algerian, too?
No? Just you.

-There you go.
-Okay. Great.

There you are!
I now officially declare you Algerian.

Can you say it in Arabic?

I didn't hear, say it slower.

That's so nice.

-See that? It's backwards.
-Yeah.

Go on!

Like every morning,
you said goodbye to me with a look

before leaving the house.

I stayed very still,

I thought hard of you,

realizing how happy I am
to share my home with you.

It's true that I haven't said this before,
neither loudly, nor in a whisper,

But you know, my girl, with us,
some things are left unsaid.

I raised you as best I could,

and was always careful
to keep to the rules,

and respect tradition.

My parents did the same.
Believe me. Don't answer back.

I raised you as best I could.

As all our people do.

But was it for your own good?

Or was it to fit in?

All these doubts arising,
and that one terrible question:

I'm the one who raised you,

but are you truly happy?

I ask myself all this, but…

never in front of you.

You know, my girl, with us,
some things are left unsaid.

What if we decided
that the self-righteous should be quiet?

If, for a while,
we could forget the weight of decorum?

If, for once,
you could do whatever you wanted?

If for once,
you went dancing and let your hair down?

I want you to shout,

to sing to the world.

I want you to allow
the joys that fill you to blossom.

I want you to go out,
to laugh, to talk of love.

I want you to be able
to be 20 years old.

At least for a few days.

It took courage
to share my feelings with you.

But if I write this letter,
it's just so you know

that I love you like crazy

even if you can't see it.

You know, my girl, with us,

some things are left unsaid.