All language subtitles for Mars.and.Avril.2012

In the 17th century,
German astronomer Kepler

introduces his cosmological model
The Harmony of the World.

Almost blind from observing the Sun,

he reaches out to the cosmos
and calls for music.

According to Kepler,
the harmony of the universe

is determined by the motion
of celestial bodies.

For instance,

Mercury corresponds
to an octave plus a third.

Venus endlessly repeats
the same note.

Earth is just a half tone.

Mars produces a fifth.

Jupiter wanders down a low third...

and so does Saturn.

But above any other,

it is the Red Planet
that nurtures Kepler's dreams,

and sings to him
the secrets of the universe.

MARS AND APRIL

Dear 3DViewers,
tonight we will witness the takeoff

of the first human convoy
leaving from the Moon to Mars!

Please welcome
the three Marsonautes taking part

in this ambitious journey
that will confirm

whether Man is capable,
as Jean Cocteau hoped,

of dreaming beyond the Moon!

We haven't even
discovered Earth yet.

They are moving too fast.

Dear 3DViewers, I'm being told
that the countdown will begin:

Five, four, three,

two, one...

From all of us on Planet Earth,
we wish you gentlemen a safe trip!

You're a lucky man.
All these women at your feet.

It's your music:

so sensuous, energetic
and sophisticated!

Please tell me

how you get
all these women fired up!

You'd make an excellent model

for a musical instrument.

- Me? A model?
- Yes.

But Jacob Obus
doesn't speak to models.

Why didn't you pick
an attractive woman instead?

But what does attractive mean?

I'm more interested
in the way a woman sounds.

It must be hard for you to always
live in Eugene Spaak's shadow?

I'm the one who designs
the instruments.

But he's the one who makes them!

Your father is one of
the millennium's greatest geniuses.

Without him, Jacob Obus
wouldn't be able to play music.

Anyway, I would find it hard
if I were you.

An instrument doesn't
just pop up out of nowhere.

It takes a vision, a concept,

sketches, and then a plan.

A drawing doesn't make music.

And a model doesn't speak!

Like all major archetypes,

Mars has an ambivalent nature.

Sometimes she is love,
sometimes death.

At times, she is life,
at other times, war.

She is both dream and nightmare.

Kepler viewed Planet Mars
as a musical instrument.

Had he been reincarnated at the
beginning of our third millennium,

the astronomer
would have been astonished

by the images of the Red Planet
transmitted by satellite.

Images captured
by a 3Delescope

reveal that the Martian topography

perfectly matches the shape
of a musical instrument.

That is ridiculous!

Kepler said: "The creator of the
universe is not only a surveyor,

he is also a musician."

Because no matter how precise
and complex the mechanism may be,

it also comes with
its own share of madness.

Thanks to his cosmological model,

Kepler proves
that the reality we observe

solely depends on the observer.

Reality and dreams can constantly
be mistaken for one another.

Based on Kepler's theory
and on my own observations,

my hypothesis is the following:

Mars does not exist!

It is a construction of the mind,
a fantasy among many others.

It is completely subjective.

So, um, Marsonautes...

are holograms, like you?

You're not worthy of the Order
of the Cosmologists after all.

Why don't you just stick
to your musical instruments!

Eugene? Where are you?

Eugene?

It's the basis for my new project.

And what would that be?

The camera films an image

that is played back to it
in a loop by the projector.

It's called feedback.
- Like in music?

And like the universe!

Through feedback,

the machine shows that infinity
is one continuous loop.

I don't understand your theories,
my immortal friend.

Sometimes I miss the days
when you were real.

As usual, Arthur's drawing
didn't account for

the technical challenges.

I welded the breech,
but the valve is still gaping.

I tried to lift the pallets to lower
the pressure in the sound box,

but I might have hit a heartstring.

It still sounds too low.

That's normal. The instrument
always ends up resembling its model.

Don't you need more light?

I'm trying to photograph the music,
so I need a longer exposure.

It's an old camera.

He's an old musician.

It takes an old medium
to appreciate a new language.

A low range...

Abundant musical curves...

A full-figured woman.

Excuse me?

A rather curvy woman

was the model
for Jacob's instrument.

I named it the "lowphone."

You're Eugene Spaak's son, right?

- Arthur.
- I'm April.

Would a photographer
make a good model?

I would finally
get to meet Jacob Obus!

No, no, no.
Unfortunately, that's forbidden.

Jacob's decision.

I'll serve as a model,
but on one condition.

April, is it my face
that you're framing?

Yes, just your face.

Could you please tell me
why I'm naked?

Is this something you do a lot?

No, but I have no inspiration
right now.

So I'm focusing on important themes:

life, death, time,
space, nothingness.

The idea is to photograph
a whole monologue.

The theme of my research is vacuum.

It's beautiful.

Keep talking, you mustn't stop.

It's true that being naked,
for no obvious reason,

in front of a woman
I barely know but am...

incredibly attracted to...

makes for a good monologue.

The experience works better
if you're alone.

Okay.

My name is Arthur Spaak.
I'm 35 years old.

I'm single, no kids.
I'll never have kids.

I design musical instruments
for Jacob Obus.

I can breathe so much better now!

Do I know you?

I spend long nights with you
in the darkroom.

My name is April
and I won't leave

until you agree to have
a drink with me!

I'm not very hairy, I know.

It's genetic.
I get it from my father.

Not that my mother was hairy.

Anyway, we are what we are.

How does it feel
to be floating in space?

You must feel incredibly small
in the infinite cosmic void.

We try not to look at infinity.

You are short of breath.

I can hear it.

It's not the only part of me
that's defective.

One of the many goals
of your journey

is to reconnect with
the founding origins of life.

Well, I guess we are
the return of life on Mars.

Right. But how far can man go
in the Martian desert without women?

Why are there no women
in your convoy?

Welcome to The Greenhouse Effect.

You must be thirsty!
- Always!

A Dry Fueltini, please.
- Sure!

I'll have an Antifreeze, please.

Things are about
to get explosive!

I'm not sure why,

but when I look at you,
I see a young man.

Probably because of your music.

Music is the only way I know
to help me breathe...

and to put time on hold.

That's what I love
about your music:

it starts off slow,
then it accelerates.

- Just like time.
- Just like love.

An Antifreeze for you, madam.

A Dry Fueltini for you, sir.

You must meet so many women.

You must be picky.
You're probably thinking:

"Another one trying
to sleep with me.

Another one who thinks I'm going
to fall in love with her."

Tell me about
your most beautiful experience.

The last show on our first tour.

We weren't very famous
at the time.

The venue was loud,

but the first note
silenced everyone.

The sound was pure, intoxicating.

I meant your most beautiful
sexual experience.

Would you model for me?

I'm a photographer.

Eugene became virtual
because he was afraid of aging.

But for me,
it's like he's already dead.

He thinks I'm jealous of him...
poor thing.

He's the one that's jealous.
I have all the ideas!

Jealous of his own son...

Can you believe it?

Good thing I'm photographing you
in black and white,

otherwise, I would need
to tone down the red on the prints.

PNEUMATOLOGIST

I can't breathe the way I used to.
I'm feeling old.

Carry on.

I feel like
I'm suspended in the air.

You are a jazzman in your 70s...

Your sex life is the envy
of any man,

like myself,
in the midst of a midlife crisis.

It's a musician's paycheck.

Seriously,

you've been running after
your youth for too long, Mr. Obus.

April is an odd name.

I was supposed to be born in April,
but my mother gave birth in March.

She says that's why
I have a breathing problem.

A Martian.

I look forward to hearing
what it will sound like.

I'm just looking forward

to having Jacob Obus
run his fingers down my body.

You mean down the instrument
inspired by your body.

He's an intriguing man.

He's a man whose career is based on
the art of intriguing.

I've been treating you
for years.

Your soul and body should not
keep secrets from me.

Well, last night,
I had a strange experience.

Hard to explain.

- I'm attracted to him.
- Of course.

Jacob Obus is a living myth!

- Are you jealous?
- No.

Jealousy is when you envy someone.
I envy no one.

You look beautiful in the shadows.

Incredible! You had a dream!

Did you happen
to meet someone recently?

Yes, a young woman.

But what does that
have to do with it?

Listen to your dreams,

you just might find an answer.

Dreams are the gateway

to all that is possible.

Is that you, Jacob?

Lucky you! No one else has seen
the plan for the "marsophone."

This may be
my best work to date.

Indeed.

What are you doing here?

Don't you have
a conference to attend?

Some people do research on more
interesting things than instruments.

- What is your latest whim?
- Planet Mars!

Just what I needed. My father
wants to become a Marsonaute.

Not at all! Absolutely not!

I prefer to inform
rather than misinform.

Why don't you come
and work with me on my new project?

I can't leave Jacob.

I have to protect him.

What would he do without me?

And what would I do without him?

You must think of what comes next.

And I need an assistant.

I know nothing about
experimental cosmology

and even less
about virtual reality.

You could go back to university
to improve your knowledge.

It's not too late.
You're still a baby!

I know this drawing very well.

I received the same signal.

Signal? I never
received any signal!

Poor man, you're talking
like an alien again!

Show a little humility, Arthur!

Ideas don't belong to you.
They belong to the universe.

Your role is simply
to translate them.

How many times must I tell you?

There, I'm done.

You can now "translate"
my drawing into an instrument.

I don't need your drawing.

I've almost finished
this instrument.

What do you mean?

I told you, I received this signal
long before you did.

What do you want me
to talk about?

The theme of my research is vacuum.

But I must warn you, the negative
only captures the truth.

Right. Well...

My name is Jacob Obus.

I'm a musician.

I'm 75 years old.

And I...

I've never made love.

Therefore, I'm an impostor.

My only real accomplishment
will have been my contribution

to the research on vacuum

done by a beautiful
young photographer.

That's it.

But your music, Jacob.

What do you talk about
in your music?

Your shuttle is almost moving
as fast as the speed of light.

However, relativistic speed
means that time is slowing down,

and therefore, so is aging.

Humanity's biggest problem
is that everything is relative.

I know, I'm late. Sorry.

I might be behind the times,

but I'm a few minutes
ahead of technology.

I closed my eyes...

And for the first time
in a long while,

I've escaped reality.

One's brain needs to dream
in order to reboot.

In my head, I saw some images!

Mars beer.

Red Fantasy.

Spring is just
around the corner.

And so is love.

Is it really?

I'm positive, Jacob.

She's the one for me.
We complement each other.

She tries to capture reality,
and I try to translate it.

Another instrument coming up,
I suppose?

Not just any instrument.
I can't wait for you to play it.

You'll see, she has perfect breasts
that defy gravity.

Jacob? Jacob?

The Marsonautes.

The dream! I'd like to hear
what our pneumatologist

has to say about that.

The Marsonautes will soon be
entering the complete unknown.

How will they be able to distinguish
dream from reality?

Really?

Jacob, you're not
listening to me!

You're going to have
to get older at some point.

Talk to women, fall in love!

When was the last time
you got laid?

I met someone too.

Really?

What is she like?

She's honest.
She has soulful eyes.

She gets short of breath,
but she has a lot of spirit.

And she likes my music.

April and I also
complement each other, you know.

In my dreams, I breathe for her.

What is it?

Nothing.

April is an odd name,
that's all.

Good timing.
I was just developing your photo.

It's dark.

The image is clear
on the negative though.

Too much information?

Or too little.

It works well with Jacob.

When I have trouble breathing,
I come here to look at him.

I think it's best
if you just stick to his image,

and vice-versa.

I'm sorry.

At first, I wanted to use you
to get close to Jacob.

And now?

I don't know.

I've never felt this way before.

Too much attraction.

I'm attracted to two magnets
at the same time.

But you don't know Jacob.

You're attracted to his image.

Mystery keeps the myth alive.

So that's why models
can't speak to Jacob?

To keep the myth alive?

Jacob loves music,

I love women.

-
- Jacob? It's Arthur.

Arthur?

Listen, I've been thinking.

The woman you told me about,

you should only talk to her
in your dreams.

I told her
we'd see each other again.

No, you can't.

You have to forget about her.
-

Don't let her near you.

Trust me on this one.

Which woman were you talking about?

A model that talks to Jacob

even though she knows
it's forbidden.

It's unsettling
for the poor man.

Keeps him from sleeping.

- Jacob, it's April.
-

I'm calling from Arthur's,
but he doesn't know.

I heard your conversation.

I can't sleep either.

I wanted to ask you:

do you remember
your first orgasm?

I cried the first time.

You cried? Why?

I was scared I was going to die.

Hello? Jacob?

Jacob, you're still awake?

Arthur, can one die
from an orgasm...

the way one can die
from a dream?

Your breath is your soul.

If you are out of breath,

it could mean that your soul
is aging faster than your body.

But how can I restore the balance?

You must bond with
a complementary soul.

Can't you just prescribe me
a quicker way out?

A kind of pulmonary balm?

What you need
is a fusion of souls.

Hold on
to what makes you feel good.

And whatever you do,
don't let it go.

It's dangerous to interfere
with other people's dreams.

What's wrong?

Am I old?

What do you mean?

Have I wasted time?

You speak as if you were dead.

I just feel like
a big part of myself

is disappearing, that's all.

So you must give life
to a new one!

It's time to try
your new instrument.

Jacob, you must be creative
with this one.

It's a unique, complex
and fragile instrument.

So, are you ready for takeoff?

I've been ready for 50 years!

One, two, three, four.

Obus is deflating.

I don't understand.
I don't understand.

Who did you use as a model?

It has nothing to do
with the model.

Eugene must have made a mistake.

Where are you going?

The show starts in one hour.
I might have time to repair it.

Relax. We'll be at the bar.

You sabotaged the instrument!

I would never sabotage
anyone's dream.

That goes against my principles.

You didn't even look at my plan!

I didn't need your plan.

It's useless to look for
something that doesn't exist.

There is no mistake, no sabotage.

The instrument
is technically perfect.

The problem lies elsewhere.

Hi.

This has never happened
to me before.

- Jacob, what's wrong?
- It's going too fast.

I can slow down the record
even more if you like.

No, no, no. It's not the record.
It's my head that's spinning.

My lungs are weakening.
Where is your inhaler?

I don't need it.

When I'm with you,
I can breathe better.

I'm the one who needs it.

But you have the lungs
of a young virgin.

It's time for me to retire, April.

One needs to know
when to bow out.

I've had a good run. That's it.

You'll need to pose for a long time.

You mean eternal repose?

No. I mean posing for a photograph.

Now? I'm in a hurry.
I have a concert tonight.

You know, there are other ways
to put time on hold.

Dear audience of the Liquid Pub,

Mr. Obus is running
a little late tonight,

but he should be here any minute.

Thank you for your patience.

Next station: Champ-de-Mars.

Mind the doors.

You're already a part of me...

yet I barely know you.

Do you even exist?

Station: Champ-de-Mars.

Montreal Teleportation Service,
how can I help?

I got on the teleporter
with a young lady

but got out all alone.

It happens even
to the best couples.

No, no, no, you don't understand.
She disappeared!

It's common, mainly with guide dogs
for the blind and illiterate.

Only use the teleporter on your own.
Can't you read instructions?

I can, but this was the first time.

There is a first time
for everything.

So, the lady has disappeared.
Can you describe her?

- Her name is April.
-

She has blue eyes.
She's beautiful and I love her.

You love her. Noted.

Thank you for using
our teleportation service.

Wait, hold on!
What happened to her?

Don't worry. Nothing ever gets lost,
nothing creates itself.

Good night.
- Good night. Good night...

I said one hour, not two!

I waited for her my whole life

and ended up losing her.

Where is she?

The concert is canceled, Arthur.

Mr. Obus?

Mr. Obus!

We're closing.

Come on, one last Dream Petroleum.

If I may say so, sir,

it's not a good idea.

Gentlemen,
live from the Red Planet...

Tell us what it is like up there.

Very well. What have you
been up to since you arrived?

There is not much to do, you know?

Okay, let's talk about
Operation Hertz,

which was launched
by scientists in order to--

Operation Hertz was planned

in order to build
a teleporter on Mars

that would solve
the issue of loneliness.

...come and meet us...

I see! And has this
teleporter been built?

But something
obviously went wrong...

The first female Marsonaute!

Will you be sending
her back to Earth?

Another one, quick!

Sorry, gentlemen,
I can't hear you very well.

Mr. Obus, are you okay?

I'm on my way, April.

Where am I? On Mars?

That was very careless of you.

How are you, Jacob?

Since when are we allowed to just
jet off without permission?

Come on.

You were out of it
for a few days.

But don't worry,
it's still April.

April! Where is she?

- I beg your pardon?
- The Martian girl.

Are your lungs failing, Jacob?

No, not the lungs.
It's the soul.

Mr. Obus has lost his inspiration.

I give up.

I lied to you, guys.

All these years,
I've been lying to everyone.

When April and I made love,
it was my first time.

And probably my last.

But believe me...

when I say that...

during all these years,
I tried my best

to speak convincingly about things
I knew nothing about.

Well, you were certainly
very convincing.

I'm sorry.

We can't leave our audience
on such a sad note.

We have to give
one last performance.

You owe it to us,
after lying for so long.

If not for you, do it for us.

Or for April.

You're the only one that can
make this instrument work.

You create the limits
of your own reality.

The answer is within you.

What do you know about reality?

An electric eel for Mr. Obus.

And a flying fish for Mr. Spaak.

Enjoy!

The universe that surrounds us
is just an illusion.

Our inner and outer worlds
are closely linked.

One cannot exist
without the other. Look.

Our conscience creates
physical reality.

Whether you like it or not,
science is the new religion.

You must have faith.

I have no faith in science.

It stole April away from me.
- And it will bring her back to you!

How would you like
to try out my new invention?

You'd make the perfect guinea pig.

Back to our
point of departure: Montreal.

Thank you for traveling
across the world

aboard the Orient Express.

Please take the time
to finish your food.

Enjoy your evening!

It's all in your head.

In yours too, Jacob.

Your brain is a spaceship.

It can take you wherever
you want to go, even to Mars!

We're all set for your departure.

Where are you going, Eugene?

Your dreams are getting agitated.

I must prepare to harness them.

If you want to hear my dreams,

come with me tonight
to the Liquid Pub.

My friends,

I'm going to play
an exceptional instrument.

Are you doing it on purpose?

Arthur, I need your help.

So, what do you think?

- I wouldn't have drawn it this way.
- Of course not!

Can this thing take off?

Well, not in the way
you think, Jacob.

The eye is the brain's camera
as well as the soul's screen.

Jacob will serve as the eye
and Arthur will be the screen.

The visual influx
amplified by Jacob's brain

will be sent back
to Arthur's eye in a loop.

The unconscious imagery
will repeat itself infinitely,

leading Jacob
into his own depths.

Feedback!

I won't be able
to bring you back.

You'll have to find it within
yourself to come back to reality,

with or without April.

It's ridiculous!

Risks are minimal for the copilot.

This journey will take place
in your unconscious.

That is often
where archetypes take control.

Let it happen, but be vigilant.

You will be the one
creating problems

and only you will hold the key
to solve them, like in a dream.

Like in a dream.

I'm starting the unconscious
feedback process.

Takeoff in five, four,

three, two, one...

Have a safe trip, gentlemen.

I'm the prisoner
of my own dreams

and reality is suffocating me!

I'm going crazy!
- You're not crazy.

Perhaps you're perceiving reality
in a new way?

This time, I really am
on Planet Mars, right?

Well, actually...

We're not really on Mars.

But what about April?

The young lady that
was accidentally sent to Mars...

on this teleporter!

Where is she?

...a beautiful woman named April...

Then how can I find her?

The answer...

Good luck!

To what do we owe the honor?

Doctor, you've been on 3DV,
so tell me the truth.

The Marsonautes' saga is a hoax,
isn't it?

Who told you such a thing?

The Marsonautes themselves.

Really?

You have a truly odd spirit.

It can't distinguish dream
from reality.

I can't stay.

Someone is expecting me.

Where?

On Mars!

Safe journey, Mr. Obus.

Off you go.

Arthur!

Where are we?

And where is April?

Vacuum...

We're in the heart
of the instrument,

where air turns into sound waves.

You mean we're inside our instrument?

Of course!

Where else could we be?

And you think April
is down there?

Where else?

Air only travels one way
in an instrument.

We must follow the breeze.

My friend,

we're about to find out
how much air you have left in you.

The theme of my research is vacuum.

But I must warn you,

the negative
only captures the truth.

We're about to find out
if you're still inspired.

Tell me about your most
beautiful experience.

This is where sound waves
are forever lost in infinity.

As soon as the music is released
from the instrument,

it no longer belongs to us.

I'm happy, my friends.

I feel complete.

Isn't that blue spot
over there Earth?

Yes, and it's time to go back!

The model before
the instrument maker.

No, you go first, Arthur.

Goodbye, my friend.

We made it... together.

Let's talk about it later
over a Dry Fueltini.

The muse before the musician.

There are no internal commands
in this teleporter.

The unit is activated
from the outside.

It was designed
to bring people to Mars,

not to take them back to Earth.

Someone has to stay behind
to make sure that others can leave.

Which means...

That I'm staying here.

No, that I'm staying here with you!

It is time to go back
to Earth now.

Not without you!

Otherwise, how will I breathe?

How is he?

Your friend is still alive.

But his mind is not responding.

I'm afraid that the process
is irreversible.

His lungs are still
in very good condition.

A patient who is unable to breathe
just landed here.

She needs a lung transplant
right away.

She is the first female Marsonaute.

- April!
- Jacob did it!

We could use artificial lungs...

but nothing compares

to the breath
of an old musician.

This is not death, Arthur.

It's a rebirth.

Famous retired musician
Jacob Obus

has drawn his last breath.

It is believed that
this last breath could be felt

as far as Planet Mars.

In fact, as crazy as it may sound,

we are receiving musical waves
live from the Red Planet.

I leave you

with Jacob Obus's
final performance.

Subtitling: CNST, Montreal