All language subtitles for Correspondances,engl.

" Enter a name or an address here"

" blanche.loiseau@WarmMail.con"

All angels are terrifying
- Rainer Maria Rilke

Hello, Blanche. l got your name
and electronic address from a person

who prefers
to remain anonymous.

You may not remember me,

but we met Saturday night,
the first day of February holidays,

at the Martian Rockers' Ball.

We danced together once,
without speaking.

l've been thinking about you
ever since.

lf you agree to reply to me,
you'll make me very happy.

lt'll be a good deed.

My name is Virgile.

My name is Virgile.

P.S.

lf you're having trouble
picturing me,

here's a hint:
l was wearing a woolly hat.

l see you haven't replied
to my note.

l'm hoping your silence
will not be eternal.

Words call for words.

" manoftheseas@ColdMail.fr"

l did receive your message,

but l don't know what to reply.

To be honest,
l don't remember you at all.

What neighbourhood do you live in?

Perhaps we could see each other?

Usually, during February holidays,
l leave.

But are you leaving this year?

My mother will decide.

What's your family like?

l live with Mom.

Do you have brothers or sisters?

l have a cat.

A cat doesn't count.

Yes, it does.

For the time being,
you haven't left.

We could see each other,
tomorrow for example.

Why do you want to see me?

We live on two different planets.

Then l'm a Martian
who dreams of Earth.

The other night,

you came to
the Martian Rockers' Ball.

You must find us
somewhat interesting.

l hadn't thought of that.

l think about you so much
that you are present beside me,

like a ghost l can see,
but who has no body.

To me you're like a ghost
l can hear,

because l don't know
what your face looks like.

lf you search for it,
you'll find my face,

which is in your memory.

l'm sorry.
l see nothing.

The face you have forgotten
sees yours.

You'll remember it
if you think of my hat,

which you must have noticed.

Everyone notices it.

l still see nothing.

l'm sorry l answered you
so bluntly yesterday,

but l don't remember much
about that ball.

lt was so crowded
and so noisy.

What's your family like?

Since it's school holidays,
l got up late.

Then l met up
with some friends.

Now l have a moment
to reply to you.

There's nothing extraordinary
about my tribal environment.

Though l live
in the 6th arrondissement,

my family is not recomposed.

l live with what are now called
my biological parents,

who are actually even married,
and l have two brothers.

Everyone gets on quite well.

l'm mainly interested in cinema.

Up until three days ago,
it was my only passion.

l have no passions,
but l read a lot.

l live in the 7th arrondissement,
perhaps not far from you.

My family is decomposed.

Aside from Mom and l,
there's no one,

not even any grandparents.

l love my mother very much.

What l'm feeling now,

l could never have imagined
a week ago.

" The Princess of Cleves"

l love you, Blanche.

l love you.

" You have no new messages."

lt took me a while to reply to you

because l spent
the whole afternoon with Mom.

We went for a walk,
and we talked a lot.

Tonight she invited me
to go to the theatre with her.

lt's in the suburbs.

Mom likes innovative plays
that are highly philosophical.

They're always in the suburbs.

When l go to them with her,
l always feel intimidated.

l will reply to your last message,

but l don't have time right now.

lf l'm too tired tonight
after the theatre,

l'll write you tomorrow morning.

l'm sick.

lt came on last night
at the theatre.

The play may have triggered it,
it was very difficult.

The actors were in the dark,

all we could see on stage
was a metal curtain,

like shop fronts have.

The audience was feverish.

lt must have been contagious.

Mom's looking after me.

She says it's not serious,

but that l must rest today.

l'm happy that your mother
is there to look after you.

lt's encouraging that you had
the strength to write me today.

l feel better today.

Mom suggested getting me out
of Paris for some air.

We're leaving in a little while.

But we'll be back tonight,
so l'll write more then.

l'm glad you're feeling better,

and that you get on so well
with your mother.

But l'm still awaiting your reply.

Mom has decided to leave tomorrow
for a few days.

l'm going to stay here.

So Mom and l have
much to talk about.

Now l'm the one who's surprised
not to have received a reply.

But this is my last night
with my mother before she leaves,

and she's waiting for me.

This morning,
l almost told Mom about you.

But in the end, l didn't .

People who love each other
always part.

And now, Mom is gone.

Now you're on your own.

Maybe it's just as well.

l told you l loved you.

That's not a trivial thing.

How can you love me?

We've never spoken.

We saw each other,
and everything was expressed.

We saw each other,
and everything was expressed.

What you say is absurd.

l've never said anything
more rational.

Don't you look at every girl
you dance with?

l don't see in their eyes
what l saw in yours.

What did you see in mine?

My reflection,
and your road.

My road?

The road you must follow.

l also glimpsed what we can see
with our ears.

How can we see
with our ears?

When we become a correspondence.

A correspondence?

When we sense we're becoming a link
between two pieces of the world.

What do you mean?

lt makes something visible resonate.

Like a word.

What you're saying
is not very rational.

What l'm talking about
has nothing to do with reason.

What is it then?

Something natural.

l believe you truly love me.

What you've written me
fills me with joy.

You want me to tell you
l love you, too,

and that l'm happy.

lf it were true,
it wouldn't be bad news.

Because you love me
without reason,

or by the grace of something that
is beyond your reason and mine,

l feel swept up.

Maybe in anothertime
l'd have told you l love you

and that l'd found happiness.

But l cannot accept your love,
and l cannot be happy.

Are you distraught
because your mother has left?

Her absence gives you back
your freedom.

On the contrary,

her absence puts me before
a presence l cannot escape,

a presence which means
l shall never be free.

Explain.

There is another boy
between us.

His name is Eustache.

Now l understand.
lt's very simple.

You don't understand.
lt's very complicated.

He's a boy who observed me,
a boy l never saw.

Like me.

Yes.

But one of my classmates knew him

and told me about him.

Eustache was older than us,
he was doing his studies.

But my classmate also said
he was doing nothing.

Maybe for Eustache,
his studies were nothing.

That's probably it.

- You never saw him?
- No.

But he has seen you?

According to my classmate, yes.

Where?

ln a square
where l sometimes go to read.

Why is he so important?

One day l received a package.

lnside there was a blue woolly hat

and a scrap of paper
with a single word scribbled on it:

" Eustache"

That's all?

l didn't understand.

lf we hadn't had
that mutual friend,

l'd never have known anything
about Eustache.

What did you learn?

The night before
l received the package,

Eustache hung himself,
with his scarf,

from a beam in his room.

Why?

The only sign he made
to explain his action

was sending me his hat.

lt's difficult to imagine.

Taking a scarf,

something we use everyday
to keep away the cold,

and using it to end one's life,

by cutting off one's breathing

and breaking one's body
under its own weight.

But why is this poor soul
an obstacle for us?

His presence won't leave me.

He cannot blame you
for anything.

l am responsible
for his death.

No.

He's the one who chose to make
his living body inanimate matter.

lt was a decision
he made freely.

But he bound me
to his choice.

No. You have, like me,
a living body

and a name which is yours alone.

and a name which is yours alone.

The presence stays close to me,
like a living body.

lf part of him stays close to you,

it's because
he wants you to help him.

- To do what?
- To go.

Where?

Down the road he must follow.

To heaven?
l don't believe in it.

No. He must return to life.

The dead do not return to life.

Nothing ever ends.

Life emerged from the sea,
which will swallow everything up.

Then life will emerge
from it again.

Free Eustache.
Send him into the sea.

How?

Through our love.

Our love excludes him.

No. He is part of our love.

Between him and us there
is an impenetrable border.

There will be no more border
if you make our love real.

You've told me this love
exists in you: Virgile.

You've made it exist
in me: Blanche.

So it is real.

lt will be real when we
come together in the world.

No. ln the world
it will dissolve,

like Eustache's life.

What we've experienced since
l began writing you is real.

What we could experience
in the world would be real, too.

They are different realities.

They would destroy
one another.

No. They cannot exist
without one another.

lf you don't expose our love
to the light of day,

you will be like Eustache,

a presence without a body,
a name without a path.

You're religious.

l've always been warned
about religion.

l believe
in many things.

l see all around me images
that have meaning.

ln my bedroom
l have a religious image.

l don't even know
what this image corresponds to.

lt frightens me, but l keep it.

We mustn't be afraid
of things we can see.

Even if they are
incomprehensible things?

All images announce the word.

Eustache is a void,
and a silence.

But didn't you call
him a presence?

Yes.

That presence has seen
the empty void. lt seeks the full void.

What do you mean
by the full void?

lt brings us to the light of words,
and to freedom.

But l myself am not free.

Eustache's presence possesses me.

ln the light of words
is his freedom, and yours.

His love, and ours.

Do you believe in God?

l believe all the images we can see
form one greater image,

which will always
be invisible.

l can't imagine
what it looks like,

but l can't imagine
that it doesn't exist.

Don't close your eyes, Blanche.
Don't close your eyes.

You will see the sign
of our love.

l have seen the word
you announced to me.

The time has come
for us to meet.

l'm still afraid of losing
what we've made real.

What is real has
nothing to fear.

Especially not another reality.

Tomorrow morning, at eleven,

l'll wait for you in the square
where you sometimes read.

l nevertold you
the name of the square.

When we have seen
certain images,

we can guess the others.

That's true.
l remember your hat now.

- Really?
- Yes.

What does it look like?

Exactly like Eustache's ,
except it's bright red.

l'm leaving for the square now.

Are you coming?

Yes, l'm coming.