Original subtitles

Look carefully!

Fried eggs are just like the cinema.

I break the egg and something appears.

And then it changes.

But the main thing is...

to make something appear at the right speed.

Lovely, isn't it?

And listen to the sound,

the fat sizzling in the pan.

Marvellous, eh?

Just like two eyes.

Two eyes looking at you.

"Mirror-eggs" in French.

They're very erotic, too.

Like two breasts.

No. Eroticism...

is not only about pretty women.

Films are always related to eroticism.

They're of its very essence.

And that's why, unconsciously, you want to make them.

And, hidden within this mechanism,

there's something...

impalpable,

inexpressible,

that can constitute a lifelong pursuit.

What is it?

Is it the truth?

Perhaps.

But only a part of the truth, a tiny part.

Why do you want to leave now?

Celebrations everywhere, and Lila's expecting me.

And I've got a TV contract,

to cover the event.

A century is 100 years,

and it's 99 years old tomorrow.

The real millenium change is not tomorrow,

and we don't care anyway.

Why do they want to make time a business of hour glasses?

We turn the hour glass,

change the year and the millenium...

and think we have to celebrate and be happy.

But time is...

more complicated.

You can't get rid of it so easily...

or shape it as you want.

It shapes us...

and devours us as well.

But forget it. Just tell Maria your love story.

Oh, you like that, Anziano.

Yes,

it's surprising.

I'm all ears.

Nothing unusual,

except that I first met Lila in nursery school.

We were 5 years old.

I loved her even then.

And she you?

Yes.

At 12 we went to the same high school,

and swore eternal love for one another.

You're forgetting a detail.

What?

That she's black?

And she's very lovely.

And afterwards?

Later, we discovered how to make love...

and then we married.

A bit later, that is. Three years ago.

And it works?

I'm sure it does.

Yes, it works.

Jonas, your story is out of fashion.

Fashion?

I'd only met Anziano once, in Marseille, where he lived...

since giving up films for writing.

Born in Trieste, he never lost his love for ports and the sea.

His face appealed to me immediately.

I realised why Jonas would visit him often.

He'd met Anziano during his studies at the film school.

I've a present for you.

What a marvel!

You're better here than in town.

- Is it your home? - No.

It belongs to a painter friend who's gone to Africa for 2 years.

He's lent me his house.

Not bad, is it?

No, not bad at all.

It was on 31 December 1999.

Beautiful in the south, but snowing in Geneva.

Jonas had managed, as usual, to borrow a camera for his "diary".

Scenery filmed from the train was the most beautiful thing in his mind.

In the evening, on arrival, he left to film the celebrations.

I'd decided not to go.

Apart from the idiots who believed in the end of the world,

I didn't want to celebrate a pointless event amidst a hysterical mob.

I waited for Jonas till 3 in the morning,

to celebrate the new century in my own way.

The electicity hasn't failed.

Nothing's changed,

not since the last century.

Go to bed, I must go now.

Your gorillas can wait till tomorrow.

What difference does it make?

1st or 2nd January, is all the same to them.

The year 2000 leaves them cold.

Of course it does,

but I'm meeting an actress in the zoo at midday.

Why not just give her a ring?

I've no details.

Neither telephone number nor address.

Nothing.

My friend Hans Peter arranged it, and he's not at home.

He must be dead drunk somewhere,

like half of humanity.

Well, I'll sleep on the train.

Do you know the girl?

No, only from a photograph.

Is she pretty?

Of course, Lilakins, what d'you think?

Good morning.

Where are you off to?

Zurich, to meet some gorillas.

Is that so?

They'll have to wait. No trains today.

- Why not? - Central computer failure.

It didn't digest the first two figures of the millenium.

- The millenium bug? - That's it.

I don't believe it!

I'm sorry.

Happy New Year, anyway.

Thanks.

Happy century!

Thank you.

Damn it, that's a good start.

That means 300 km by car.

Third question.

We're rolling!

They say that it's our fault that you're becoming extinct.

But if you can hold on, even in prison,

perhaps we'll go before you do.

We're slowly moving that way.

Would you like that?

Good. Very good.

Now, the last one.

We were fascinated by...

your freedom in the primitive state.

We knew that this freedom was..

buried deeply within ourselves...

and strove to destroy it.

In other words,

to destroy you.

The pity, hatred and fear...

that we bear towards you,

we bear also towards ourselves.

This world of exploitation in which we live...

is now applied to you.

And I'm asking you,

on this first day of the new century:

What can you still do for us?

Not very much, I'm afraid.

Did you see the way he looked?

Who knows...

Who knows...

Yes.

D'you want to ask anything?

- Me? - Yes.

Yes, there is something I'd like to ask them.

What's that?

Teach us patience.

That's very good.

But who'll teach us impatience?

We need both patience and impatience.

I think that...

they can teach us patience.

Would you like a drink?

No, thanks.

I haven't slept for 36 hours.

I'm going to sleep in my car.

Thank you.

Christ!

It can't be.

Oh, shit.

I was in the bar opposite. I came back...

to find the boot open and empty. It must have been a tip-off.

It was no accident. And nobody was near the zoo.

It was the girl, then.

Who is this bird?

She's called Irina, a Russian.

I'm really in the shit.

I took the camera without asking.

It's the Russian mafia.

Don't exaggerate.

The company has it insured, surely.

I had no authorisation. It'll be complicated.

I must do something.

I'll try and find the girl.

We were already broke. This business made it worse.

Odd things happened in Zürich.

His friend Hans Peter gave him a tip and Jonas left immediately.

He hoped to find Irina and the camera again.

He even had an address.

What's that guy doing here?

Who are you?

I want to speak to Irina.

Irina? There's no Irina here.

Get out of here!

I've got to talk to her.

Throw him out!

Scram!

You've no business to be here.

Hands off, damn you.

Asshole.

Scram, asshole!

Get out, you swine.

Bloody idiots!

Hello. Have you got anything by Steve Reich?

No sir, that's good music, we don't have that here.

A pity. Thank you.

Father was my adoptive father.

I was very lucky.

He didn't look it, but he was an engineer.

Horses were his great passion,

and they didn't repay him.

What would you like?

A calva.

Can you lend me some money? I'll give it back.

Come on!

Have you lost again?

Yes.

But I'm on to a good thing. I've had a tip.

Please.

I'll give it back to you.

- How are you? - Not bad.

How much did you give your father?

That's none of your business.

Come on, you haven't answered me.

How much did you give your father?

What's it got to do with you. It's my money.

No, no, no.

It's our money. After all, we're married.

And in love as well.

Very much in love.

Listen. We are broke and your father loses all the time.

Just tell him to stop betting.

That's his business.

And he's my father.

You could have chosen a better adoptive father.

Nasty! I was only 2! I didn't want another one, anyway.

Jonas left for Marseille as usual, to see..

Anziano and recharge his batteries.

I was fed up with winter, but...

I understood his need to be alone.

It was his territory.

Don't do it "as if", but "like that".

What do you mean?

Well, you see,

in life you often do it as if. You cheat and lie. That's normal.

But in art, you can't.

You're trapped, my friend.

You can't cheat and do as if.

You have to do it like that.

But in the cinema,

you do it as if.

The actors have to do it as if.

They are playing a part.

Therefore, they do it as if.

They, perhaps, but that's their work.

That's why they're so complicated.

But your work is different. You have to do it like that.

What does "like that" mean?

It means that, for you,

there is only one way, of doing things.

Obviously, "like that".

Listen to good musicians.

They know very well what it means.

They play like that, and not as if.

You have to discover your own "like that".

That's where the real questions begin.

Well. Mr. "as if" or "like that", shall we go to Marcel's?

It's beef stew today.

Do you like that sort of thing?

I don't know what it is.

You're certainly modern.

I'm sure you'd eat anything. You eat as if.

At Marcel's you eat like that.

Clear off, you little idiots!

What's this publicity thing?

I haven't much choice.

Don't get into it. It'll affect you.

That's the trouble.

Nothing but tricks, stupidity and lies.

I know, but I need the money.

You haven't made that many films.

How did you manage?

- For money? - Yes.

I got by.

Your wife helped out with translations.

It's easy to preach to others.

Money is not the real problem.

The problem lies elsewhere.

Where?

That's for you to find out.

I know.

The world, as you said, is nearing the abyss.

Apart from the beef stew.

It wasn't bad, was it?

Not bad at all.

This is for you.

What is it?

A camera.

Let's say, I inherited something.

These new miniature devices are really amazing.

Remember, it's of professional quality.

It's not intended as a toy.

Now you won't need to steal your boss's cameras any more.

But you'll see that it's a dangerous little machine.

Dangerous?

Why?

Because it gives you freedom.

You can do with it whatever you want.

There's nothing more dangerous.

Beware of gluttony, Jonas.

You can't film everything.

You can only film where there's...

resistance, where there's opposition,

something you must conquer.

Do you think the Marseille refuse tip could be conquered?

Certainly.

It would like to be filmed.

- Does garbage interest you? - No, refuse.

It's a science, moreover.

With all the refuse that's accumulating,

it will eventually engulf us.

When I say we're up to our necks in it, you think I'm exaggerating.

When he returned, Jonas showed me his pictures of the Marseille refuse tip.

It was strangely fascinating.

He obviously enjoyed filming these heaps of rubbish,

with a certain indulgence.

He spoke of his camera in almost loving terms.

Oh, what a lovely black bottom. She's lovely.

Scram!

Scram, I said.

What are you saying? Isn't this a squat?

- No. - What is it then?

We're out in 1 month's time, anyway.

Do you pay any rent?

No, that's the dodge.

What sort of dodge? Tell us!

A property dealer lets us live here quite cheaply.

It keeps the squatters away. That's the dodge.

In other words, you're watchdogs for a property exploiter.

Aren't you worried about us?

- They're chucking us out. - So?

For years you've grovelled for a lodging.

Stop it!

We don't need your moralising.

You're caretakers!

We'll test you.

Can you get a camera?

Yes, I've one of my own now. Why?

We've got quite a good idea.

The football match. Jonas could film it.

- We could make film tracts. - Yes, terrific.

- I'm to film the match? - We'll explain.

Stop it! You'll break everything!

Don't, I'm fed up with this camera.

I want to film your skin.

What, again?!

Listen to this:

"The growing attraction of two lovers...

is already the will to live...

of the new individual that they desire to create."

"What's more, its new life arises...

when their desire-filled looks are exchanged."

"Their wish is for fusion into a single being,

in order to live within it alone."

Who's that by?

Arthur Schopenhauer.

"Metaphysics of Love and Death."

And what about death?

You're too intellectual.

Let's make love first.

Only pleasure counts.

- You mean, in general? - No, no.

Pleasure of the moment.

People look for the secret of the universe in religion...

or science, in...

constructing machines...

capable of discovovering the infinitely small or big.

But the secret lies...

quite simply...

between a woman's thighs.

What book's that from?

It's by me.

To celebrate the first day of spring, Jonas's friends suggested a tram ride.

I'm ready. Let's go!

Excuse me. May I have a puff?

The football gang was very active.

The film tracts went well.

Our pro-smoker campaign had begun.

Stop pissing everyone off!

Hunger is a poor counsellor.

When people hunger, no state can resist.

A hungry belly hath no conscience.

One sauerkraut is worth more than two promises.

There it comes!

Ladies and gentlemen.

Thank you. Enjoy it.

That's scrumptious.

Jonas was pleased that my father worked for a waste incineration firm.

He accompanied him on a little morning excursion on the river Rhône...

to his place of work.

The problem: it's a long way.

The flight alone must be 3,000 francs.

I can't afford it.

I'm collecting material for it.

The refuse thing interests me.

"Refuseology".

We know what it's about.

I've got a free team next week. Perhaps we could do something.

Yes.

I'd prefer to work alone.

All alone? Why? What can I do with the others?

Send them on another job.

I don't understand. Why go alone?

Because I've got my own equipment.

I can't imagine working with a team here.

Administratively difficult.

In television, certain rules have to be observed.

Are you sure about your thing?

No, it's not possible. Unless we find a ploy.

These stupid idiots.

It won't work.

We'll find something.

- I've seen so many estate agents. - We'll find something.

You go, and you'll see.

An unemployed black girl and an unemployed film maker.

Do they want tramps like us as tenants?

I have to go now.

Where to?

Is it your world dustbin tour?

Yes, they've agreed.

You could have told me.

I'm telling you now.

Mylord is strolling off...

It's work. I'm paid for it.

I hope so! We haven't got a bean.

Still, you're going travelling. You'll enjoy yourself.

Good food, good hotels, all on offer.

- Shut up. - And I'm staying here,

with agents slamming the door in my face,

and lazy sods standing around and annoying me.

Is that a life?

I'm fed up. Do you understand? Really fed up!

Where are you going?

To my sister.

Hey! Get away from here. Push off!

Scram, scram, scram.

Hooligans.

Some cheese, Elliot?

Elliot would like some cheese, please.

Stop drinking! You haven't said a word for an hour. Just boozing.

He's drinking to forget.

You're seeking the truth?

You'll be an alcoholic before you find it.

No preaching, please.

A quarrel with Africa?

We're out of the flat and can't find anything.

Hi, Jean. How are you?

Hello.

Yes, I'm okay.

You've lost again?

Yes, you see...

- Money? - No, forget it.

Come on, I'll buy you a drink.

You must satisfy your desires.

Gambling is a passion like any other.

No.

It's a vice.

Others drink, but I gamble.

And?

If everyone was virtuous, we'd all have cardboard wings.

There can't be anything worse than paradise.

Nevertheless, I'm in in hell.

Why do you gamble?

I don't know. I just do.

You must know what attracts you.

You like losing.

Of course not. You only play to win.

But you're a compulsive loser.

I also win sometimes.

But you lose whenever you play regularly.

You're condemned to lose. The organisers have devised it so.

That's why you play. To lose.

It's more exciting than winning.

What you say is strange.

You just don't think of it.

At the present time, there's nothing to win.

I'd rather be a winner, though.

Lose your virginity, dear?

- Feeling down, ducky? - Short time, ducky?

- Fuck off! - Go to Mummy.

Jonas had received money from the TV for Central America.

I was alone, but things were more complicated than anticipated.

Faced with people who had only rubbish for survival,

he felt like a Peeping Tom caught in his own trap.

On earth, more and more people producing more and more waste.

All the Third World cities will eventually implode.

Or explode through waste gases.

Either way, it's all the same.

It's madness.

It'll happen here too.

You shit like all the others.

Make 10x more waste than they do.

And you're boring.

Perhaps you have material for a film tract.

I don't think so.

These film tracts are schoolboy pranks.

I found this when tidying up.

It was 5 years ago...

that I first held a camera.

What was it?

It was in Geneva.

An anti-army demonstration.

The cops beat me up. They wanted the film of the demonstrators.

I was able to save it.

I threw the rest down a manhole.

Such things happen in your peaceful country?

The police protecting the army...

from the people...

makes a beautiful metaphor.

The question is what to do, what can be done now.

What do you mean?

What to do against it all: the world,

the new world order.

They keep saying it's inevitable. It's depressing.

It's revolting.

So, first of all you will be depressed,

then you'll despair,

and finally you'll revolt.

Yes, but how? To destroy? To resort to violence?

And against whom?

Against what?

It's true. In our time, the enemies were easily identifiable.

Now they race over computer networks at the speed of light.

You can no longer catch them.

Or you have to know how to inject a virus.

As on New Year's Day,

when computers failed and the trains couldn't run.

We could be modern pirates.

That's it.

Do you know how to make viruses?

No. But you can always learn.

That's probably the violence of the future.

That's not very funny.

I'd prefer to smash something.

Something tangible...

with friends and people.

Be certain that it'll break of its own accord,

piece by piece.

Apocalypse in slow motion.

Rather primitive cynicism!

After the time of high ideals,

you are now disenchanted. But what remains for us?

Nothing. Zero.

No political horizon, no utopia. Nothing.

Your generation devoured that dream and left us the ruins.

But generations are unreal.

They are little cages that were invented to enclose people.

Only history advances.

It's for you to follow history.

But first you must know it.

Look around you!

Lies sprout everywhere like poisonous mushrooms,

and nobody sees them.

"The greatest need of the mafia...

is to confirm that it doesn't exist...

or that it is the victim of unfounded calumny.

And herein lies the first similarity...

with capitalism.

The mafia flourishes with the advance in computers,

industrial nutrition,

new town planning and slums,

intelligence services and illiteracy."

Nothing.

I was expecting a call about a job.

They usually need me on Fridays.

I thought it was them.

I've earned very little this week.

The big problem is to make a decision.

But you alone can do that.

Decide, Jonas. Here, now and before me.

I've already decided. I'll make films.

Yes, but you dabble for the moment. Collect pictures.

Do you know Pessoa?

No.

He died in 1935, So he wrote it before then.

He had already understood. Listen.

"Today...

the world belongs to fools,

the restless and heartless.

The right to live is now ensured by the same means as...

those bestowing the right to be interned in a lunatic asylum:

the incapacity to think, immorality...

and overexitement."

Some weeks had past, but May brought nothing new.

We still had no money or a flat in view.

Jonas believed he'd seen his Russian in the Geneva red light district.

He was sure of it and seemed to have only one thing in mind:

to find her.

- Don't take that, it's rubbish. - No, it's very good.

You'll hate it within a week.

We do, and that's why they don't sell.

You were the only one who knew about the camera.

What would I do with it?

Not you, but your friends.

What friends? I haven't any friends.

Those in the house making a sex film.

Would you give me a part in a real film?

I've only done theatre before.

I liked the story with the gorillas.

What sort of theatre is this?

I'm just waiting for a part.

There are only whores here.

I encourage people to drink.

Not funny.

- Have you seen their faces? - I know.

Get out of this dive.

I'll take you out. Come on.

- I can't. Impossible. - Why?

- Because. - Because what?

Because I owe them money.

Who to?

To those who brought me here.

- Who are these yobs? - I don't know.

They'll never let me go.

I'll take you with me. I'll pay and take you.

I can't.

- Where are we going? - Never mind.

You'll die here.

This is Irina. The Russian actress.

She's staying a few days here, because she's got nowhere to go.

Leave your things here. Sleep in the little room.

You're crazy.

We haven't any money, and you bring this bird home.

She has to be helped. She's in real trouble.

Saint Jonas, pray for us...

Have you got a cigarette?

You're finished here. You're fired.

Fired?

- Are you joking? - Orders from the boss.

You told customers that we only sell rubbish here.

What do I do then? Push off?

Yes, push off.

Who are these blokes?

- What blokes? - Not noticed?

They've been there all morning. Seen their faces?

I don't know who they are.

From the owner perhaps, to watch over the dump?

What for?

Maybe to keep squatters out.

- Your girlfriend's bodyguards? - No.

Ask her.

What is it?

D'you know those blokes?

No.

Could they be your friends?

- I've never seen them. - Certain?

Better not go out.

I said I don't know them.

I'm sure it's because of her. That's just what we need.

You're imagining things.

Irina's a whore. They won't let their money go.

No. Stop it.

I didn't much like the country, but I made the best of it.

Cécile, Jonas's sister, and her husband Peter...

lived with their 3 children in a French village...

since it's cheaper than in Switzerland.

Hi, Cécile.

There are 2 beds and a mattress in the loft.

Right.

- It's only temporary. - Of course.

Everything's temporary now.

Temporary means "for the moment",

"the future's before us",

"better times ahead", and "you must learn to adapt".

That's it, that's it.

Who's your Russian?

She's an actress.

She used to work in a bar,

and she owes money to some dicey types.

I get it. A prostitute.

No, she just encourages customers to drink.

I had to get her out.

Yes, but why her?

Because I knew her.

We'll manage. You have some space here.

It's the only place where we can be right now.

You're my sister.

- We're in the shit. - So are we.

- Less. - The same.

- D'you think we like living here? - We've got nowhere to live.

- Go to our parents. - That's out in the sticks.

- Here as well. - Less.

As much.

- Less. - As much.

What's that? Have you got a mobile?

I need one, because I work as a temp.

You can be rung anywhere.

Either you stay at home by the phone...

or you have a mobile.

We've no flat anyway.

You don't answer.

No. They get on my nerves.

They can piss off. Bunch of assholes.

That's delicately expressed.

Soon, all slaves will have a mobile on their backside,

day and night.

Is that where yours is?

Your backside will soon be bip bipping.

All our backsides 'll be bipping.

Those of the girls as well. Many of them do already.

Do you think...

I should give Lila a child?

Lila or Irina?

Don't be stupid.

I saw you looking at the beautiful Russian.

Yes, she is beautiful.

You know, Jonas, children come without much reflection.

You always want to decide. Let yourself go a bit.

I thought you finished early. You left at 5 o'clock.

I was driving around.

I'm fed up with the bloody job. I had to relax a bit.

What do you do?

Previously, I was a plane mechanic.

My thing: mechanics.

But they moved, and only baggage handling was left.

Now I unload baggage for 30% less wages.

That's why we live here.

And you love motorbikes?

Yes, very much.

Then come myself and the kids.

Don't confuse everything.

A motorbike ride is the tops.

A motorbike is as intelligent as a horse, but faster.

Motorcyclists are married to their machines.

The purr of the engine, the scenery.

I've loved my bike for 10 years.

I've never been on one, but I can understand.

Would you like a ride?

- Now? - Why not?

Come on, I'll take you.

Come what may!

Another 50 km ride with a leach hugging him from behind.

Shut up.

You're all the same. Glimpse a bottom and away at 50 mph.

Mind you. He's not the first for your Russian.

D'you think she likes it?

She was a student and an actress and finished up in bars.

She should have stayed in Moscow.

She needs help. That's all.

You're making a film?

You're right. A lovely body.

Give me the camera?

What for?

To film you both. Give it to me.

How does it work?

You press the knob. It's automatic.

What d'you want to film?

You two.

A beautiful pair.

Kissing, for example.

Kissing?

Yes, or more if you like.

What do you mean?

I don't know.

A love scene.

You make love and I'll film it.

Yes, porno is your thing.

It'll be a souvenir for you.

A souvenir, what for?

Yes, that 'a good idea.

We can look at it, when we're 75 years old.

Are you backing out?

If it amuses you.

I'd rather be behind the camera.

Behind the camera?

- While we make love? - No.

I'll film, and...

you and Irina make love.

Neither more nor less.

Why not?

It's only a film.

You always say that cinema is not reality.

Are your backing out now?

No.

But we must ask Irina what she thinks.

Why not?

If it amuses you, I'll play in your film.

It's you who wanted the film.

You remember our vow?

Faithful for eternity.

- Did you want to break it? - No way.

Was it good?

Not as good as with you.

Jonas left again for Marseille. We needed space.

We'd gone too far. It seemed a game I thought I'd win.

But everybody lost.

We were trapped by this damned camera and I'd the feeling...

that it would be difficult for Irina to remain among us.

Have you ever done a porno film?

One or two soft porns.

In Zurich. I needed money.

But yesterday,

when you filmed with Jonas,

did you come or just pretend?

No, I really came.

But I come quickly if I want to.

Did you find it funny?

No.

Not really.

Have you got a profession?

No. I went to high school and got A levels.

But you can't do anything with that.

Anyway, learning a trade these days...

What?

Your life consists of living with Jonas?

That's already something.

But I also like reading. Any kind of book.

Even philosophy. I don't understand everything, but I figure it out.

To earn some money, I work as a temp.

And you?

Oh, me.

I always wanted to act in the theatre.

Now we're both here.

Come in.

He doesn't want to see anyone.

This happens more and more.

It's one of those bad days when he doesn't want to talk.

But what's he doing?

I don't know.

Oh yes, he's writing on small pieces of paper...

or in exercise books.

The company of cigars and whisky is enough.

Even if he knows I'm here?

That makes no difference.

Do you see him?

No.

But at least I know he's there.

Previously, he'd leave for days...

without saying where...

or offering the slightest explanation.

One evening, we came home late. We'd drunk a lot...

He didn't want to go home.

His eyes held a strange energy,

as if he wanted...

the night to last forever.

It was as if he wanted to kill something within him.

He once spoke...

of suicide, but only in jest.

Do you think he was serious?

I don't know.

Perhaps isolation attracts him,

the silence.

Or he hides away...

like a sick animal.

- There comes Jonas. - Is anybody there?

Hello, uncle Jonas.

- Nice in Marseille? - Yes, very.

Isn't Irina here?

No. She left without a word.

She's not cut out for country life.

Maybe. But if she goes back to Geneva,

she'll fall back again.

You'll miss her...

Don' be stupid, that's not it.

I'm afraid for her, that's all.

You'd always like to be an angel.

But angels have no sex.

That's not been decided, my dear. It's still frequently discussed.

At last we had a new flat. A real squat this time,

a bit dilapidated. We just took our bed, table and chairs...

and a hi-fi. Henceforth, everything was only provisional.

Except the things between Jonas and me.

Hello, sea!

I must read something to you.

Listen.

"We're the children of a devastated world,

who are trying to be born into a new world."

"Learning to be human is the only radical thing."

I feel that...

people are becoming uglier and more stupid.

It's sad, but inevitable.

They're programmed that way.

Hey, Jonas.

You thought I was a loser?

But this time I've won.

And with the money,

I'm buying your flight to Dakar.

A visit to your granny, Lila.

An old promise,

from the time before Mummy left us.

If only I hadn't lost so often...

How much did you win?

We'll go and see the results.

Well?

Enough for the flight.

But nothing for you.

Since you're on a lucky streak, play these 5 numbers for us.

Listen to this.

"We have mentioned neither the mob,

the bruised, the rotten,

nor the sweepings, refuse and peelings."

"Nor the slimy, burnt or cracked material."

"All this substance arouses the same repulsion...

and would deserve to be treated with opprobrium."

What book's that?

A Philosophy of Refuse.

A rehabilitation of shit. The nobility of refuse.

I'm also into philosophy, if I understand it aright.

I've always sensed a certain nobility about my activities.

At home, you can film whatever you want, but not here.

Don't film any refuse.

Ecology is only for the rich.

We'll go and film my grandmother.

Don't you like family films?

Let's go.

It's you who says that films and pictures preserve the past.

I'm looking for M'doumbé.

She's upstairs.

Yes. Who is it?

Lila.

Oh, my dearest child. No, it can't be true.

I so much wanted to see you.

Lila, my dearest.

This is Jonas...

...my husband.

With a camera instead of a head.

Come, come.

What's happening with the camera?

Where am I in your story?

I was happy to see grandma and the people...

of this country, whom I loved.

But I was now a stranger, without the language.

I moved and thought differently from them.

They saw me as a European. I was an exile.

A destiny like any other. No possible return to the roots.

Someone once said that only trees have real roots...

and they'd probably be very happy to take a plane.

Jonas maintains that his own country doesn't exist.

We were really made for each other.

You took your camera? Will you show us?

Yes.

Is it fun filming the poor?

Since you can't film the rich...

Why not?

You can't. They don't imprint on film.

- D'you understand me? - No, not really.

They've nothing to say to us.

So you only filmed destitution?

No, you can't film that either. You mustn't.

- What did you film then? - People.

They're not destitute. They're just poor.

But they keep their dignity...

and they know life.

How do you measure poverty?

By our standards?

Why should those be the only measure of rich and poor?

Destitution is when it affects health.

But whoever has food, a roof and children at school,

is not destitute.

You, for example,

are poor, but not destitute.

- Down there I'd be rich. - Certainly.

- But here you're poor. - No, we're not poor.

Come on.

Oh yes.

Below the minimum, with 3 kids.

Good evening, Maria.

When did it happen?

I'll be there tomorrow.

Jonas disappeared into a long night.

He recalled some lines of Borges...

that Anziano had annotated in his workshop.

"Facts that disappear when a person dies can amaze us."

"But in every death, something, or an infinite number of things, vanishes,

unless the universe itself has a memory."

"On his last postcard, Anziano wrote down a sentence by Karl Kraus...

that I liked and that made Jonas laugh a lot."

"In art, eggs and fat are minimal." "What counts is fire and a pan."

What happened?

Do you know?

Yes.

At least, I think so.

Lately, he'd been very tired...

and depressed.

He went rather too far.

Drugs?

Let's say a combination of things.

He often went out again...

and therefore drank a lot.

Did he know what he was doing?

The risk he was taking?

Yes, I think so.

I think he knew.

You know, Jonas, Anziano liked you a lot.

He really believed in you. Don't let him down.

It's funny. I remember...

One day, he said...

the Europe-Afrika axis would save the world.

You've begun to...

be a gourmet.

I'm not hungry.

It's no fun eating alone.

Did you go to the morgue?

Jonas rang me up before leaving Marseille.

He was sad. In addition, the buffet had disappeared.

It was now a McDonald's.

Suddenly, he began to tell me something strange about not doing...

"as if" but "like that".

In future he'd do it "like that". I didn't know what to say.

He'd hung up in the meantime anyway.

Your numbers for the horses...

were a hot tip. The right combination.

You don't say.

That's terrific!

The trouble is that I forgot to play.

Not very clever, eh?

What an idiot.

It doesn't matter. After all, you said we play to lose.

But you owe me the 100 francs.

In mid-May, it was the "Ice Saints" and my birthday.

Jonas gave me some peonies and a quotation from Renoir:

"For me, cinema and water are inseperable."

"There is an inescapable aspect in films...

that is related to streams and the flow of rivers."

"This is a clumsy description of a feeling,

for the cinema-river connection is more...

subtle and powerful because it remains inexplicable."

Translation: Ronald WILKENS