All language subtitles for The.Mother.and.the.Whore.1973.(Jean.Eustache).720p.x264-Classics

Hello, can you lend me your
car? Sure. Here are the keys.

- Know where the papers are?
- Yes. Sure, you don't need it?

No. The left signal
is broken, so be careful.

I have my own system:
I never turn left.

Okay. Thank you.

Hello. What are you doing here?

I came to sit in on
an old friend's class.

That's annoying... It's a new
term, my first day of classes.

I'm not very sure of myself.

Please, accept it. There's
a note inside.

For she who wakes me each
night with a dream.

I have nightmares,
too. I see Mary this big.

I say "dream", and you come
right back with "nightmare".

I wanted to tell you:
"I've come to get you".

No, I can't.

But you didn't hear me.

I've come to get
you. I want to marry you.

No. I'm not there
yet. I'm not ready.

Not ready?
- That means you will be soon.

I don't know.

Oh, that's enough!

I haven't bothered you much lately.

I haven't chased you, or
made your life difficult.

I know.

You've had time to get
hold of yourself, to think.

All that time lost!

Maybe that time was
needed to work it out,

to see things
clearly. But now, I know.

Every morning, every
day we do not spend together

is a day we lose. It's
a massacre, it's a crime!

No, I can't. I don't
know. You might've worked it out

- but I still have problems.
- We'll solve them together!

You must decide, commit yourself.

You expect thing to just happen?

They do, I have come.
I will ask you nothing.

You have nothing to
ask. Excuse me, I have to go.

- I'll come with you.
- No, don't.

You've invited me a
hundred times to your classes.

- You never came.
- I'm here today.

It's curious. It was
all clear this morning.

The streets were calm. I was fine.

I came to say: "I've
come to get you".

You should have said:
"I expected you".

Like in the song
by... I forget who...

You know...

I feel you in me so deeply, so near.

I can't believe you feel nothing.

I don't believe you.

You claim not to
feel, but it isn't true.

You're lying, you're playing a role.

I don't mind talking, but if you
go on like that, I'd rather leave.

No, don't go.

I'm sure, I want to live with you,

I'd like to watch you
fall asleep, wake up.

Is that so unpleasant to
hear? I want to live with you.

I love your neck.

Have you forgotten?
I love your skin.

In the years we spent
together, I'd slowly forgotten your face,

my first impression of you...

Your leaving let me
find you again in me,

intact, like the first day.

I had to leave.

You never finish your sentences: you
had to leave, so we'd meet again.

Let's go for coffee.

I'd like a bite to eat.
I have three more hours.

- I'm broke.
- I'll treat.

You know...

I had thought you'd
come with me today.

I'd even asked friends, ones
you like, to be our witnesses.

I was so sure...

You're really naive.

I was wrong, once again.

But does this mean
you'll never come back?

In three months, in... I don't know.

You're not telling me
you won't come back.

You're telling me you don't know.

While you don't know, I'll wait.

Say something.

I'd like to say, don't count on it.

Don't take the easy
way out. Answer me.

I'd rather you said
plainly: "I won't come back".

Note, I'd rather you
said: "I will come back".

It's as if you put me aside to
see if it works out with this guy.

Let me put it another way:

Do you still love me, or not?

This is ridiculous. What
novel do you think you're in?

You know yourself,
it's not that simple.

You love me. I know it.

That's why I'm
asking for a decision.

I've been waiting you for months...
I'm ready to wait as long as it takes.

But, all this time, you're
living with a guy.

If you were alone, you'd think. We
could see each other sometimes.

We could go out together.

As times go by, you
could make up your mind...

You'd know if you want to
live with me or another lover.

It'd be fine for you,
you'd be a girl with two lovers.

Two? Dozens!

Even better.

Instead of which, you
hesitate. You don't tell me no.

You spend each day
with this other guy.

I never know that you're doing

If you're cooking do you make
him the same things you did for me?

If you're drinking wine...

If you're stroking his hair...

Listen.

If you won't decide, I'd
rather we brought it to a head.

If you don't come with
me today, well, marry him.

Get married!

You know what that costs me.

But if you're honest,

if you love him, if he
loves you, as you claim,

well, get married.

I'll know there is no
hope, I'll get used to it.

What will you do?
Talk to him about it?

Perhaps you've already
talked about it?

Yes, we talked about it.

So, what does he
want to do? Marry you?

He wants to marry me.

Then go on! get married, get
married! What are you waiting for?

If you hesitate, it
can't be too solid.

Meanwhile, I'm waiting.

If you marry, I'll
understand... But it proves nothing.

It doesn't mean that
in a few years...

Listen,

talk to him about this,

tell him that I saw you.

That I want to marry you.

Decide together what to do.

I'll come back. I know where to
find you. You'll give me the answer.

It's been good to
see you, I like you.

I really hope you work it out.

Yes, without you.

With another woman,
you'd feel better.

That's what you say when it's over.

And not with Marie,
that would be even better.

Curious... I've not
stopped suffering.

I wasn't hanging on to you,
but to my pain, trying to hold it,

to keep you near me,
to keep us together.

The day I stop suffering,
when I work it out, as you say,

I'll have become someone else,
and I don't want that.

That day, we'll have
lost each other for ever.

You know, I'm no fool.

Time is passing, I
can't fight it for long.

I came today,... but if
you don't know what you want,

it may be too late when you do.

I've had enough, I'm tired...

Do you remember the
movie where Michel Simon says:

"Look at the unfaithful
wife, the treacherous friend..."

With that slightly comic
grandeur of great sadness or death.

Oh shit, I've had enough. So long.

I read here in the afternoon.

I plan to do it
regularly, like a job.

I cant' read at home.

Georges Bernanos used to say:

"I can not endure long
without human faces or voices,

I write in cafes".

I don't go that far. I come to read.

He also said he'd do it even more,

if the powerful republics,

didn't tax alcohol so mercilessly.

I have to go. I have an
appointment. What are you doing later?

I'm going home. Stop by
afterwards. Or this evening.

Come in.

Did you see my
sculpture? I did it this morning.

Do you want a drink?

What a question.

I have Pernod Ricard, whiskey,

gin, which you can mix
with London Orange Dry,

and Cognac...

But I've found the
King of liquors...

Look.

It's good. It doesn't burn at
all. I can drink half a bottle easy.

May I?

I'll say!

I picked up a girl after I left you.

She was at the "Deux Magots".

She looked at me, or I wouldn't
have noticed her.

I'm only interested if she's
already interested,

even if it's only shown in a glance.

The same way I can't love
a woman who doesn't love me.

She smoked Gauloises.

She wore a Moroccan
robe, and no bra.

She got up, I followed her.

I was in a hurry, so I just
asked for the number.

She gave it to me. It's BRE-2327

It's her work number,
there's an extension.

She said to call
between 8:00 and 3:00...

I wonder what she does.

I'd like to find out before I call.

From 8:00 to 3:00...

It's neither a shop, nor an office.

And if I believe your description,

her clothes, the absence
of bra, the "Deux Magots",

there is no way of knowing.

You see what I'm saying.

With the leveling,
liberalization, this kind of equality,

maids, working girls,
bourgeois women...

It's all the same.

Finally there won't
be any way to tell.

I'd like her to be a maid...

I want to wait a few
days before calling...

Let her forget me,
not think about it...

I want to surprise her,
show up like Santa Claus.

I did that once.

She's nice enough.

She's blonde,

she has blue eyes...

She looked at me insistently.

That beautiful myopic stare.

I think she has a big
ass, but I'm not sure.

- What are you doing?
- Going out to a cafe, play pinball...

I'll come with you.

Are you here?

I've been to shopping,
do you want to eat now?

Yes, something to nibble
on. We'll eat later.

What got into you this
morning? You left early!

Yes, I was awake... I
wanted to see streets, and people.

It's insane, the
activity at that hour.

People working, bustling about...

But it's pretend... At
night, there's no one there.

The next morning, they pretend
again, bustling about, arguing...

No one believes it anymore.

That's the advantage of Paris.

Because on top of
all that, they're sad.

They don't try to
pretend, like southerners,

with their rotten good humor,
their generosity crap, human kindness...

You didn't meet anyone?

I picked up a girl.

I didn't want to tell you.

I wanted to keep it for myself.

But it's funny, I
can't hide anything from you.

How did it go? Is she
pretty? What did you do?

Nothing. I just asked
for her phone number.

Not even a drink?

No, really, it just
lasted twenty seconds.

But you'll call her...

Yes... unless I change my mind.

Tell me, will you
introduce me to her?

Yes...

If she's worth it.

What are you doing?

Doing the dishes you never do.

- I did the dishes...
- Yes, once.

Yes, because one feels...

A kind of satisfaction
in washing dishes...

A feeling of being useful...

There is something a
bit obscene in that...

Disgusting, no? Being
happy from washing dishes.

You asshole, you know I love you.

What do you want to
do later? See a movie?

Is there anything worth seeing?

I don't know. I'll check.

Want to see "The
Working Class Goes To Paradise"?

"The Working Class Goes
To Paradise" by Elio Petri,

a political film, which
denounces the workers' oppressed condition

whilst defining a new concept
in human relations.

Neither tract,
reportage nor rhetoric,

this film is a real film,

an elaborate,
composed, rhythmic work

which shows the main character�s

obsessions and contradictions:

his lust for money,

then his feeling that
he is losing control,

that he is losing his conscience,
his confusion,

his fits of rage, of insanity...

I'd rather watch TV.

At least Bellemare and Lux show their
stupidity. It's more honest.

Extension 155, please.

- Hello, Veronika, please.
- It's me.

Oh, hello, It's
Alexandre. Remember me?

Yes, very well.

- How are you?
- I'm fine.

Is that all you had to say?

Yes.

Want to go out for a drink some day?

- Well, let's see, when?
- During the week...

Pick a day, I don't care when.

Thursday, if you like, at 4:00.

Thursday! That's a long way off!

I'm very busy. 4:00
at the "Deux Magots"?

All right.

Be there, I hate being stood up.

Oh, I'll be there. See you Thursday.

What is that?

What it looks like. A wheelchair.

I stole it the other night.

You stole it? From whom?

I don't know. Some
cripple, no doubt.

Know this?

She's the singer the
Germans tried to promote...

After Marlene Dietrich left.

Like all imitators,
she's better than the original.

She doesn't have her own myth.

Still have your book on the SS?

Yes, sure.

"In the Warsaw ghetto,

the S.D. men defy the rabbis".

"Himmler delivers his speech

on King Henry the Fowler. In 1936."

Know the
frog-on-the-ceiling game?

Look in there, the last page.

The have some great games, look.

Look at the frog a minute...

The frog?

Then look at the ceiling.

I'll tell you. Wait, I'll count...

Now look at the
ceiling, you'll see it appear.

Look at the ceiling... See it?

I see it!

The frog...

I regret not having
known the days when girls,

in the streets of our
cities, along country roads,

swooned over soldiers.

The prestige of the uniform...

Nowadays,

they swoon over sports cars...

Nowadays, young businessmen...

Young executives...

Professionals...

Have replaces the military.
I'm not sure it's an improvement.

By the way, what are
you dong tomorrow at 4:00?

Nothing, of course... Why?

I called that girl.

I waited a while before calling her,

and wonder if I made a
mistake. She pretended to be very busy.

Our date is tomorrow.

Want to come along?

It's at 4:00, at the "Deux Magots".

That way, we could
work out a strategy.

Yes. But do you think
that's the best tactic?

No, I don't. But maybe
you could come by, casually...

I'll come by. What do I do?

Act as if you're
looking for someone.

- No one special?
- No, just a familiar face.

I see you?

That's it.

All right, I'll help you.
But it must be well prepared.

Nothing left to chance.

So decide if I'm to
sit, stand, talk or be quiet.

Absolutely no improvising.

If I'm to talk, tell me what to say.

I'll say whatever you want me to.

I'll recite.

Don't expect anything else.

Whiskey, please.

- Here I am. Want a drink?
- Yes.

Just passing by, or
did you come to see me?

Just passing by. I was
going to the bookstore. Why?

Oh. nothing.

Don't you have something to tell me?

Yes.

I'm getting married.

Well, that's fine, all
you had to do was tell me.

When?

Next month. The end of the month.

Oh, then it's right
away. The sooner the better.

- Will you invite me?
- If you like...

- No, decide. will you invite me or not?
- Yes.

- Will he agree?
- Yes, If I ask him.

There was a song
like that in my childhood...

A girl at the wedding
of a man she loved.

I didn't know it would happen to me.

Where is it? At your parents?

We don't know yet.

You're taking care
of the legalities?

It's being done.

- And if I opposed your marriage?
- What could you do?

I don't know. Go to
City Hall, say: "I object!"

"I object to this marriage!"

There, it'd be impressive.

You have no reason.

I have.

I love you. And you love me.

That's not valid.

I know.

But, maybe then you'd see
I'm the one you should marry...

No.

I'm just kidding.

But, seriously...

It seems I'll have to
wait longer than I thought.

How long... Five years? Seven years?

- How long average marriage last?
- You're really...

What? Look at me.

Look at me.

Can you say you love
him more than me?

Oh, please...

You see, you can't say it.

I love him differently.

I'll never love anyone like you.

Now I'm being careful. I
am looking out for myself.

You could with me, too.

And you'd know which way to look.

I don't understand.

Must a man carry one
mistake through his whole life?

Haven't I paid enough?

Why end my hopes when
you don't know what you want?

You aren't sure you love him.

Stop thinking like
that! You've nothing to pay,

or blame yourself
for, that's how it is.

You'll live with a
man you don't love,

because it's too hard
with the one you do.

You're more comfortable like that.

I don't want to harass you,
but there's the whole sex issue...

That's not important to me.

- Don't give me that. Shall I remind you?
- No.

- You see.
- That's not the point.

If I were you, I'd counterattack.

I'd say: " At last I've found love!"

- "At last I know what love is!"
- I could say that.

Once can say anything.

I lied to you a few
times, but never to myself.

You're good at convincing
yourself of things that aren't so.

I think you pretend to be a
couple. You're playing the role.

And to avoid facing
it, you rush ahead.

I understand very well...

I'd rather you say
it's for this money.

- He's broke.
- There, lying again.

A prestigious profession...

A cultural heritage...
One day, soon, financial.

But that's fine.

Don't be ashamed, don't
deny it. Money's no disgrace.

The party he belongs
to knows all about that.

Still, you were
careful about falling in love.

You didn't fall in love with
a Portuguese laborer,

or an Algerian,
even a French laborer

You know, one only meets...

just someone from
his own class, I know

But the how did we meet?

Something went wrong... But
now you've set it right.

You've begun to live
an untroubled life again.

You're peaceful.

You think you're recovering, when

you're getting used to mediocrity.

After a crisis, it's important
to forget quickly.

Like France after the Occupation,
or after May '68.

You're rallying like
France after may '68, My love.

Remember?

We said it had been a narrow escape.

That we were lucky to have

a childhood our kids may not.

In this new world
where you're old at 17.

Your parents taught children
French. Taught morality.

You'll be an executive's wife,

You'll make a beautiful couple.

Very New Society...
A thief and a criminal...

Chaban can be
godfather to your first child.

But watch out!

You're building on decay.

Families always lose...

Remember that case I wrote
an article about?

The Fauqueux case...

The guy who, every night,

stole in under the nose of
the police to see his wife?

People as beautiful
as a Nicholas Ray film.

Remember, I said when Fauqueux
got out of prison,

the little girl he kidnapped,

would be 18 or 19 years old.

And I said that even
if her parents hide it,

She'll learn, maybe at school,
that a man�s in prison for her.

A girl grows up, and
already a man�s in prison for her.

She'll piece the story together.

And if she's beautiful, God willing,

I bet she meets him
at the prison gate.

I don't see what else she can do.

I mention this because I had an idea

have a girl quickly,

one who looks like you,

With your hair, your eyes.

And in 18 or 19 years, we'll see...

One sees girls with
men their father's age...

And people get
furious. I think it's fine...

Have a seat?

- How are you?
- Fine.

- We don't see you much more anymore.
- I've moved.

I'm leaving now.

- You're not fair.
- That's right, I'm not fair.

See you.

She didn't show,
but Gilberte came by.

There must be a reason...
There's no such thing as chance.

- Still waiting?
- No.

One thing I like:

She said on the phone she hates

being stoop up. She must be nice!

- Will you call her?
- Oh, yes, absolutely!

- I'm writing you, and
I've lost your address.

Can I have it?
- What?

I'm writing you, and
I've lost your address.

Can I have it, please?

Ren� Laennec, rue de Sevres.

Extension 155, please.

Could I speak to Veronika, please?

She's out. Who's calling?

When can I reach her?

You didn't say who's calling.

It's... Alexandre.

Can you take a message?

Ask her to call Alexandre
at FON-8295? By noon?

I'll tell her.

- Can I speak to Alexandre?
- Just a minute, please.

Hello, it's me.

This is Veronika Osterwald...

I'm really sorry about
yesterday, but I couldn't get away.

There was an
emergency, it was just impossible.

Are you furious?

Not at all. In fact, I'm delighted.

- Are you kidding me?
- No, really.

It doesn't matter at all.

I'm not mad at you, on the contrary.

But... perhaps we could
try it again, if I may so.

With one difference...
this time, I hope, you'll come.

Well. this evening,
if you can make it.

Oh, I can do what I want.

This evening then? Where?

Let's say 5:00, same place.

Fine. See you then.

- See you then.
- Bye.

Need a light?

- Are you the girl I'm meeting?
- No.

I'm meeting a girl I don't
know... it could've been you.

- It isn't. -
Are you sure? - Yes.

- I'm not wrong?
- No.

I was afraid I wouldn't know you.

You aren't mad about
yesterday? I'm really sorry.

I hope you didn't wait long...

Yes.

I waited quite a
while. But it doesn't matter.

When I got here, I looked around,

I saw a guy who looked
like me. Then he was gone.

I thought maybe you
went with him by mistake.

No, I wouldn't have done that.

So you waited a
long time. I'm sorry.

I told you, it doesn't
matter. In fact, it worked out well.

I hadn't been stood up in a long
time. I'd forgotten the phrase.

You brought it back like other
things you never hear.

For example, You never
hear the word lemonade anymore...

No one says:

"I had an excellent
lemonade at lunch".

I thought of that while waiting
for you, and after, as I stayed on.

I said, if she comes, I'll
talk about lemonade,

to see how you'd react.

I've never known how strangers

can make conversation...
It's best to sit there in silence,

or talk a lot, which is the same...

But to grope for words, trying
this and that... Why?

As a rule, you know,

I'm attracted to
women for exterior reasons...

that have nothing to do with them.

Draped on them like a robe,

a coat, one might
drape on someone else.

I might like a woman

Because she was in a Bresson film,

or a man I admire is
in love with her...

What greater tribute can
one pay a man one admires

than to take his woman?

By not coming yesterday,

you gave me that to
talk about today...

Yesterday, I'd have had nothing.

You've created something between us.

Don't you agree?

I don't know.

If I'm boring you, stop me.

- Oh, not at all.
- We can talk about

- about the weather, or Women's Lib.
- What's that?

- You don't know? "The
Women's Liberation Movement".

Women tired of
serving men breakfast in bed.

They've rebelled. The have a slogan:

"No more men in our beds!"

- That's sad...
- Yes, I think they're very sad...

I like bringing a man
I love breakfast in bed.

I have a friend who believes,

that a woman's function
is to bring him breakfast.

I heard him say so to
a raving women's libber.

I thought there'd be a blood-bath.

In fact, he seduced her,
talking about his grandma,

who spent her life doing housework,

and raising children
and grandchildren.

Now, she can't live without him!

By the way, what's your name?

I didn't catch it over the phone.

Veronika Osterwald. It's a
German name, but I'm Polish.

I'm an anesthetist at Laennec
Hospital. I live there.

I have a garret room.

So you never leave there?

I had a place... couldn't afford it.

And I like my room.

I'm not there much.
I often to night duty.

It pays under the table... badly.
And when I have money, I spend it...

I go to night clubs.

- Do you?
- No, not much.

- Don't like them?
- I don't know.

Why do you go?

To dance. I love it...

To drink, see people,
to not be alone.

Are you alone?

Oh, I'm easy to
pick up, as you know.

But when I see them
again, usually nothing happens.

There's no spark.

I have to go get ready
- I have a night shift, in the suburbs.

Want to have dinner some night,

When you're off duty? I'd
pay you the night shift fee...!

I'd like to.

When?

I don't know... call
me, Tuesday, at 1:00.

Tuesday? That's a long way off!

All right, call me sooner.

No, I'll obey. Tuesday at 1:00.

- Hello,
FON-9572? - Yes.

Is Marie there?

No, She isn't.

Is she at the shop?

Not today.

But she is in Paris?

Yes, she's in Paris.

Want to leave a message?

Could you tell her
Philippe Desbons called?

I'll tell her.

She'll be here
tomorrow... Around 10:00 or 11:00...

- All right. Thank you.
- Bye.

- Hello, Marie, how are you?
- Fine...

You'll be even better.
I have good news.

- What is it?
- Philippe just called.

Philippe... Desbons?

I didn't get his last
name too well Looks good, eh?

What does that mean?

It just means I'm happy for you.

You have it all wrong.

If you want me to
pack, tell me now, so I know...

That's ridiculous, it's nothing...

Whatever you like. I
don't want to be in the way.

Don't worry about me. Today
everything's fine.

Yes? Oh, you're back?

Yes. How are you?

Yes, me too...

Wherever you like...

Whenever you like...

What about "La Coupole" at 2:00?

Good.

Me too.

See you then.

You've got it all
wrong about Philippe and me.

It was no big deal,
for either of us.

It's not my business.

That night, I kept calling.
You were there, you didn't answer.

You were with Gilberte. How many

nights have I waited for you?

I'm not with Gilberte
now, I live with you.

May I know your
intentions? What are your plans?

I'd like to see him now and then.

And that won't change things?

Nothing's changed! I
love you, I live with you...

And you'll fuck him now and then?

Listen, I haven't fucked him.

Oh yes, so you've said...

But I don't suppose you'll
just be gazing in each other's eyes...

I have no desire to fuck him...

It's a desire that can come on fast.

When the woman you love fucks
a friend, it's tough.

But you can live with it.

But when she fucks, gets turned on

as you like to say,

by a guy you can't stand,
she puts you on the same level...

You don't even know him!
You've got him all wrong!

Anyway, whatever I
say... Do what you have to.

I'm busy tonight...

Going out with the nurse?

Yes, with the nurse...

Going out to eat?

Eat, have a drink, I'm not sure...

You can afford to take a girl out,

but you can never manage it with me.

- Have your new boyfriend take you.
- I don't have a new boyfriend!

Your next boyfriend, then...

You can sure say some dumb things...

Pass the bottle.

I understand your
desire to seduce women.

Knowing them is the
point, not seducing.

But you won't understand I
can want to know someone too!

I'm not turned on to
those lofty spheres...

I operate in the
everyday world, the banal...

I don't mean sex. Even
if I meant, it takes two.

I have every confidence
in you, my dear.

You're sweet...

Well, I won't be too
late. Will you be here?

You'll see.

Enjoy yourself!

You seem tired, or ina bad mood.

We could meet some other day...

No, I'm all right.

But are you always free? No
wife, no mistress, no friend?

We could talk about
that later, or another time...

But why do you ask?

No reason.

And what about you?
No ties, no husband?

Right now, I'm free...

- Like it?
- Very much. I hope it lasts.

Why?

End of some great romance?
Tired? Did you live with a man?

Yes, I lived with a man.

- It's over?
- Yes, It's over.

What went wrong?

I cheated on him.
I'm very demanding.

I always expect too
much, and I'm always let down.

- Haven't you lived with a woman?
- Oh yes...

It didn't work either?

Off and on.

And finally, not at all.

Why?

I don't know.

I guess I got day
and night confused.

People are beautiful at night...

Like Paris. Paris is very
beautiful at night,

trimmed of the ugly fat of traffic.

I cut the world in two...

I came to love night people.

I spent my time
drinking, gambling, making love.

I had a bit of money...

When I have money,
I don't do a thing,

I hate people's
attitude of always wanting more.

In the mornings, I'd
have a last drink in the cafes

with the people who'd just
woken up and washed,

faces heavy with
sleep, going to work.

And I'd go home.
She'd wake up to go to work.

She'd wake me at
night when she came in.

I never saw the day light in winter.

Bit by bit, we lost
track of each other's lives.

She was lovely, like the day,

but I loved women with a night
beauty. And I ran out of money.

- So she left.
- That's not so great.

I don't know.

Want to stay here?

I don't care.

Are you hungry?

Me neither.

But we could get away from
the noise of this chicken-coop.

I like this place

When I'm in a bad mood, I come here.

I'm their best customer.

Usually, It's just
people in transit.

Like a F. W. Murnau film.

F. W. Murnau films are always
about transition from city to country,

day to night. There's all that here.

To the right, trains, the country...

To the left, the city.

From here, there seems to
be not one speck of earth.

Nothing but concrete,
stone and cars.

I don't like this light.

Are you uncomfortable?
You seem restless.

I do feel restless.

There are those who say: "The important
thin is inner harmony".

I heard a creep say
that on TV recently.

When you hear that kind of thing,

look at the person...

They have one point in
common. A bovine quality.

Though I like these cud-chewers...

They chew things over.

A good trait. Chewing
on a word, an idea...

Excuse me, but I have
the feeling I'm boring you.

Did you look at me?

Yes.

I find you very beautiful.

Do I seem like someone who's bored?

No, but women are such liars...

And what about you? Who
are you, how do you live?

Boredom is all right.

Like that sect of heretics,

Borges talks about,

for whom life's
essence is in boredom.

Not in faith, or
enthusiasm, but boredom... the void...

It makes sense to me. By the way,
I've done a self-portrait.

Hair... Forehead...
Eyebrows... Eyes...

Recognize me?

It's my only
certificate of existence.

But sometimes I'm happy.

Now, for instance,

being here, with you.

Even if I did borrow
the money for coming here.

You're crazy to come here
if you don't have any money!

Not having money is
no reason to eat badly.

I used to steal books as a child.

I claimed poverty was no reason
not to be cultivated.

There are people rich enough
to do nothing, who do things.

They even do good
things... Make movies, for instance.

So they seem

to be earning a living.

I don't mind that
they take work from others...

We must always
encourage injustice...

But they think they
contribute something!

Their "creation"...

Enriching the
world... What a system!

Is that good?

- A bit tough, perhaps?
- It's all right.

And what is this wine?

You know,

eating cold things, you
taste the cold, not the flavor.

When you eat hot things, you taste
the heat, not the flavor.

When it's something
hard, it's the hardness...

When it's liquid, you
feel the liquidity...

Not the flavor.

So,

you have to eat
lukewarm, soft things.

You see, it's dark now.

It's better now.

Talk to me.

About yourself.

When you finish work,
What do you do in your room?

I sit drearily on my
big bed, watching TV.

I take my shower during the news...

Very organized.

You've found a way

to hear the news
from under the shower?

You don't know nurses' rooms.

The shower is down at
the end of the hall.

Things don't mean much to me.

When I go out, I spend the
night in bars and clubs a lot...

I drink, it doesn't mean anything.

If I meet a guy, I go
with him, there's no problem.

I can fuck with anyone.

How long do these adventures last?

An hour? A night? Longer?

An hour, a night... I
turn a lot of people off.

That's normal.

You have to turn some
people off to turn others on.

My neck and shoulders are soft.

I have pretty breasts.

And I don't like thin
thighs on girls. Do you?

Don't look like that.

Life is beautiful, marvelous.

Don't you see? Look
at the horrible sky!

- Two scotches.
- And a Coke.

You can't imagine
what assholes interns are...

In the off-duty room...
They talk about their bosses,

the girls they've
fucked, or will fuck.

Their sports cars
- motorcycles these days...

At first, I fucked these
assholes, I fucked a lot of doctors.

I always drink whiskey with Coke.

Once, in the operating
room, an intern said to me:

"Veronika, There is a
patient need to be undressed".

So I take my kit and off I go.

I was in the
elevator, not paying attention,

and I realize we're
not going there at all.

It was his ploy to fuck me.

So I took out my Tampax,
fucked him and went on back to work.

Later he wanted to do it
again, I said: "Once is enough".

I thought... I haven't been in
a hospital since I was a child.

I remembered nurses
as hard, insensitive,

totally unaffected by
a suffering and misery,

and I liked that hardness,

that lack of compassion
for human misery.

You're right. That's it exactly.

Do you wear a white
uniform with patients?

And a veil.

Oh, like a nun. I'd
like to see that.

That's easy. Don't you have anything
that needs operating on?

A lung?

Lungs are very pretty.
They're all pink.

A lung... no.

But a friend of mine
had a great idea.

He wanted to have his
right hand cut off.

Seriously.

He wanted to go see a surgeon,
and say: "How much will it cost?"

And have a false
one put in its place.

And at home,

in one room,

alone in the center of the
room, the hand in formaldehyde,

with a plaque: My
hand... 1940-1972.

And people would come to see it.

- Funny...
- Yes, it's fine.

But... would a surgeon do it?

No, I don't think so.

I'm tired of it here. Let's go.

- Another drink?
- No. let's go.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

Can I call you?

If you like.

I don't want to go
back. I want to walk.

I could walk all night with you.

I'd like to go down by the water.

You mean down by the Seine?

By the water.

See you soon?

It won't be easy. I have a lot
of nights shifts. I need money.

To drink?

To drink, to buy
clothes, to be beautiful...

I wish you would say:

"To drink, to buy
clothes, to be beautiful,

because you see, my dear,

I'm in love..."

I'm often in love.

I get involved with people
quickly, and forget quickly.

People don't matter.

I love someone a month,
two, three months, and that's it.

When it's good, it's
good. Then, it's over.

Call me, if you like.

You too.

- Still have my number?
- Yes.

So, it went well?

Yes.

You had dinner?

Yes.

- In a Chinese restaurant?
- Yes, yes.

- By the Pantheon?
- Yes.

- So, you had a good time?
- Yes.

Now that's enough. If you want
to pick a fight, I'll leave now.

To hell with that!

As you once said, I despise
people who suffer in silence.

Besides, you smell of "Bandit".

I hate that scent.

You reek of it.

I can see you had a good time.

Oh, don't touch me. Go wash!

- You're ridiculous...
- To hell with that!

I walked around all night,
hoping to see you.

If I had, I'd have
said "I love you".

In front of that girl,
and everyone. Anywhere.

I'd have said "I love you,
stop this game, you'll ruin us!"

And I imagined you'd drop
everything and we'd go off together.

Okay. I'm going to wash.

Veronica telephoned twice.

You gave her the number?

Yes.

- What did she say?
- Nothing.

She asked for you. She'll call back.

She wouldn't give her name.

Sure it was her?

Look, a girl who
won't give her name...

Let me tell you, I
don't like her voice!

I hadn't noticed. I
think her voice is fine.

Hello? Yes, hold on. It's her.

Hello? Did you sleep well?

No, not at all...

Yes, I'd love to.

When?

Tonight at the
"Flore", at 8:00? Fine.

See you then.

Thing are going well...

Think so?

Yes, you're super-nice with her.

Oh, you're jealous...

Go on, I love it
when you're jealous.

No, it's just been a long time
since you've talked to me that nicely.

Maybe you just don't listen.

But go on... I love
it when you're jealous.

I've told you: I love
you because you are only one

who makes me laugh.

- Me?
- Yes.

You can laugh or cry,
it doesn't matter.

I love you because
you make me laugh.

So laugh!

What do you plan to do with her?

Nothing.

What should I do? Not go?

Tell her: "We can't see each
other, too many problems?" and do what?

Stay here, watch TV,
listen to the radio,

Wait for the phone call?

Dial the time to
hear a human voice.?

I'm a poor, mediocre young man.

A poor, mediocre
girl wants to see me.

I like that,

And I won't give it
up, whatever happens!

And you know I'm not
thinking about sex.

Still... that'll come, won't it?...

What's the difference,

dipping your sex in
one pool or another...?

But that hurts...

I know.

Hello... is that a new jacket?

Yes. Don't ask me!

I went into a shop,

and got intimidated
by a huge salesman.

He was a good 6'4.

He sold me what he wanted to...

I knew it didn't suit
me, but I took it anyway.

When I left, I bought
another one... too big.

So now I've got a tight jacket
for which I have to lose weight,

and a large one for
which I have to gain weight.

I should get very fat...

Yes, fat is fine...

Fat, and bald...

I had an atrocious day.

After that, to calm down, I went
to buy Offenbach's "La Belle Helene",

And on the way back I ran into
a girl I know slightly,

who's very curious...

and I thought, she'll say "What's
that you're carrying?"

and I'd say "La Belle
Helene"... come up and listen.

But she didn't say anything.

So I said "know what I've got here?"

And she said "No, and
I don't really care".

So I said "Well, I'll tell
you. "La Belle Helene".

Want to come hear it?

And she said "No, I'm busy

and anyway I don't give a shit."

I went home, alone, listened
to it, alone...

I was really... mad.

Oh, I ran into Freak...

He was all in green...

Green jacket, green shirt,

green pants, green shoes...

Even smoking green Gauloises.

I said "How are you?"

And he said "How
am I? Can't you see?

I'm in green, and
against everything!"

I thought that was pretty
good. I wish I could say it, but...

As you see, I'm in black. In
black, and against everything...

It doesn't have the same ring...

Good evening.

Good evening. Excuse me.

How are you?

What a question. Lousy, of course.

Maybe you'd rather not see me.

If I bother you, tell
me to take a walk.

It won't be the first time.

A Ricard.

A J&B.

No, it's not that.

I wanted to see you,
but it's not so simple.

I'm broke and I don't know what
to do without money, or where to go.

But that isn't important.

When you like the
people, a coffee is fine.

Just talk, or stay quiet.

No, I don't think so.

It's not very serious.

I want to be with you,
but not feeling uneasy.

Unless you look
forward to an evening

in silence in a bar or cafe...

It's not bad, but
it's something else.

So...

I've thought of something.

Do what you like,
it's the best I can offer.

Want to come up to the
apartment of the woman I live with?

You may know her... I
think that dress is from her shop.

And she's a good cook...

There's wine, whiskey, even Coke.

Music, television.

We can sit nicely and
watch TV. Sounds good?

And if you don't
like it, you can go.

Two things were left
out of the Bill of Rights...

The right to change
one's mind, and to leave.

Want to come?

- Yes.
- Good. I'll go call.

- Good evening.
- Hello

- Want a drink?
- Yes

- A drink?
- Sure.

I'll bring it.

What do you want to listen?

Anything you like.

Can I help your friend?

No, no. I'll go.

Where to?

Anywhere.

No, I don't know

You don't like my ideas, you decide.

Want to go to a night club?

No, but I'll drop
you off if you like.

You won't come?

No. It bores me and I'm broke.

I'm not.

Yes, but...

I don't want to.

Then take me down by the water.

If you like.

I'm furious.

Yes, I know.

I screw up sometimes.

I'll take you home.

And if you want to
call me one of these days,

I'd like that.

I like your eyes,

and your mouth,

and your smile.

I never laugh.

You have a nice smile.

Don't you want me?

I don't know...

You'd have fucked me, back then?

I'm not sure.

Since we met, I've had
erotic dreams about you...

I get the feeling
you're good in bed.

It depends on the
day, and the opinion...

Want to make love to me?

- Right here?
- Why not?

No-no.

We're being watched.

Watched?

Haven't you noticed?
There are people going by.

Waiting for us to make love.

I don't see a soul.

Who are these people?

Voyeurs, homosexuals, cops...

Maybe all three combined...

That bothers you?

I must seem very conventional,

but it bothers me a lot.

Don't you like by breasts?

I do.

I'll take you home.

So, you went off and got laid?

No, sorry to disappoint you.

I stayed here.

Three hours to get her
home... Not bad, eh?

I don't like her!

I don't like her voice, her
face, her skin, her fat ass,

her way of saying "Easy,
friends". Disgusting!

I should have realized

It wouldn't work. I knew it...

She wants your body, that's obvious.

- Think so?
- Oh come on, you know it!

Like her breasts?

Very nice, that's
her only good feature.

I like her voice too.
And her face isn't bad.

If you like her that much, fuck
her, while I'm in London!

Use the apartment,
screw her in peace.

You'd let me bring her here?

Do what you like!

You going to see your dyke friends?

Look, I'm going to buy for the shop!

By the way, if you're
going to London,

could you pick out
some flannel for me?

Something in brown... or blue.

With white pin-stripes.

There's no secret to
flannel... It's all in the price.

Can you lend me the
money? I'll pay back when I can.

I want the kind of suit

that makes people who
don't know anything about it

think the wearer
has natural elegance.

They ascribe the elegance
of the suit to the person.

It all gets confused.

Mick Jagger, Rene Biaggi...

- Alexandre? Did I wake you?
- Yes.

I'm sorry. I'll call back later.

No, now that I'm awake, go ahead.

I called to say I'd like to see you.

Sure. Where, when?

You're not mad? I said a
lot of stupid things yesterday...

Forget it...

Stupid things? I don't remember.

You don't? So much the better.

Can I see you?

Sure, what time?

I have some errands... I
can be at the "Flore" at 7:00

All right... fine. I'll be there.

There may be a man with me.

Don't scream, come to our table.

If there's a man, what do I do?

Come to our table.
He won't stay long...

I don't know that to say.

I won't ad-lib, tell me exactly...

Say what you like. If you
don't want to talk, don't.

Sure he's not big, strong and mean?

No, don't be scared. Or
come at 7:15, I'll be alone then.

Hello. I'll be there, in any case.

You know, you're
starting to weigh on my mind...

- I hope I'm not too heavy.
- Well, see you then.

I'll be back in 2 or 3 days.

Don't do anything
stupid, I'll think of you.

Water the plants in the kitchen.

Are you waiting for anyone?

You're dressed
nicely. What happened?

I broke a glass...

It suits you. A
bandage makes a nice accessory...

What's up? We never see you.

I was in the States, but
I've been back six months ago.

That's a long way.
What did you do there?

I was with a guy.

- with your priest?
- Yes.

You're still with him?

No, he stayed there...

I was in New York,
what an awful place.

You can't imagine...

I was afraid to go
out, even in the daytime...

Once, an amputee
tried to pick me up.

He wheeled after me, real fast,

he looked mean, and he said

"Yeah, you won't go with
me "cause I'm an amputee..."

I didn't know what to say... I said:

Tell me about your priest.

- I never knew him too
well... Was he a real one?

I never knew either.

I think about those things a lot.

Remember the guy who used
to be around Montparnasse?

Belmondo's double? We called
him the "Imitation Belmondo"?

At first, his imitation
seemed a bit ridiculous...

But with persistence over
the years, he perfected it

until he was more
real than the real one.

If you really want to, you can
take over someone's personality,

steal his soul.

Belmondo is now the caricature
of his double.

Not his caricature, his shadow...

They should have used them
in "William Wilson".

Say, what's happened to
everybody we used to see a few years ago?

I don't move, I'm still here.

There's no one left.
They've vanished...

The girls of all those
days and nights...

You, Michele, Francoise...

In vanishing, you've
taken a bit of my life...

Michele committed suicide...

I know.

I botched my suicide...

Listen, I cannot not take
suicide seriously.

Not more than death, or
no less, how does one say?

So talk suicide all you
like, if I laugh, it's from fear...

Francoise is with an American...

When a girl lives with a
guy, she lets everything drop.

I guess she feels a rebirth,
a new beginning.

Staying with one
man, you rob the rest.

Everything all over the world
must have been directed against me.

There was the Cultural
Revolution, May '68,

"The Rolling Stones, the Black
Panthers, the Palestinians, the Underground,

And for a few years, nothing...

Look... nothing in
fashion, in film, nothing...

Pop music's religious,
and I only like popular music,

Mozart, the Rolling
Stones, Edith Piaf...

By the way, I do have good news.

You know Ferrand, the
guy I couldn't stand?

He's dead, like that,
in the flower of youth.

He crossed me. He
married a girl I'd gone out with.

I've noticed, people who
cross me always have bad luck.

How do you like that girl?

Not bad.

We have a date, she hasn't seen me.

I don't know what I'll do.

Oh, I'll go on over. Be right back.

- Hello.
- Hello. Won't you sit down?

I'm over there with a
friend. Come when you like.

A friend?

So now what? What
are you going to do?

When will we meet
again? In five years?

I'm fed up. My guy's jealous.

I'd like to cheat on him.

Listen, if you want to cheat on him,

don't do it with just anybody. You
never know who it'll turn out to be.

If you think about
it seriously, call me.

No, call me, I'd be pleased...

Is that the man you told me about?

- You were alone?
- Yes.

You seemed to be
exchanging phone numbers.

That's right.

But I don't like being spied on.

Want to stay here, or
go down by the river?

Hear music at my place?

At your place? With
your old mistress?

How is she?

Fine, I guess. She's in London.

Let's go. I want to hear
that Marlene Dietrich record.

Wait...

You'll push my Tampax in!

That's it.

Shit! Now I've got to go
back to the gynecologist,

and say, in my sweet little voice:

"I don't know what
happened, I lost my Tampax..."

Shit, do you realize, it
could come out of my nostrils!

It's your fault. You just
had to take it out.

Can't we spend a
night without fucking?

I said I didn't want to fuck.

I can't stay like this.

Give me a feel. Try
to get the Tampax out.

I don't know how.

You idiot! Grope, and if
you feel something, pull out.

I'm afraid I'll hurt you.

No, it won't hurt...
Can't you do anything?

What did you say?

"Give me a feel"?

Oh, stop laughing. It's
not funny, I assure you...

Well. I'll try...

- I think I feel something...
- Then pull!

Ah, here it is...

Give me that.

I'm calling a friend.
I've got to tell him this.

I can't keep it to
myself, it's too funny!

You're not going to tell...

Yes, there can be no secrets...

He's not there.

Too bad...

You have beautiful
veins... I'd love to give you shots.

How do you want to make love?

Tenderly, or violently?

Either way.

No, tell me.

Once, a girl told me:

"I don't want to make love this way.

You're too brutal...
be more gentle".

So say, how do you
want to make love?

Tenderly?

Or violently?

Either way, I like them both.

Veronika...

Hello Alexandre, it's Veronika...

Hello. What time did you leave?

At 6:00.

You could've woken
me to say goodbye...

As I recall, you like
to wake up by yourself.

I talked too much
again. That's all right.

I work till 5:00 Want to
go to the movies afterwards?

I don't know if
there's anything to see.

I like horror movies. Old vampire
movies. They're so ridiculous...

No, I like down-to-earth
films. Like a Fernandel movie.

Fernandel? To please you, I'd
be willing to see a good film...

What do you mean by good film?

Carne's "Les Visiteurs
du Soir", maybe...

What?

"What heart that beats, that beats?"

All elegists are creeps.

Well, we'll see...

Can we meet at 6:00 at the "Flore"?

See you tonight at 6:00. Kisses.

I told you I couldn't live
with anyone, but still, I try hard.

You know, the lover
I used to live with...

He loved yogurt.

He loved it, so I
bought about thirty.

I went into this
supermarket in the neighborhood.

I got nothing but yogurt.

I remember

I came staggering
home with tho huge bags...

I thought,

"Oh, wow, will he flip out
when he opens the refrigerator..."

But he said:

"But Veronica,

all this yogurt...
That's a bit weird..."

And me thinking he'd
be so happy and all...

"A bit weird... ".

Where did you live?

I was in a room in the
17th district, rue des Acacias...

I was evicted for
making a lot of racket.

The good thing with him was that
we spent our time fucking.

One time, he had the flu,
and I had prepared to go to work.

With care, there was a guy
at the hospital that I liked.

He was in bed, and he said to me...

Oh, what was it...

"Look, I've got a hard-on!"

So I said yes, kind of stupidly,

and I was really pleased, of course,

so we fucked before I left.

Then I was late, and
I called my supervisor.

I told her I'd done the
night shift, and had overslept.

And what made me laugh,

was when I got
there, she said to me:

"Ah, Veronika I can
see you've slept well,

you look very healthy".

That old lover...

He loved yogurt, and
wanted me to say "I love you..."

He'd say:

"Veronika,

tell me you love me,

tell me you love me".

So I'd tell him:

"I love you. I love you".

One day, I remember, he
said something terrible:

"Your body is a garden... ".

And he loved to browse
in that tufted old garden...

The pleasure he found
was forever new...

It was very funny...

"There aren't any
fortresses anymore,

but there'll always be songs..."

I know some old songs too.

Do you know this one?

"Just simply like a rose

that you pick one
day without a reason.

You have taken my somber heart,

by passing in front of my house.

My heart is an autumn flower.

Without knowing why or how,

you have taken it.

I just simply.

Give it to you".

You embarrass me...

I think it's time
for the Sunrise Preacher...

He's already started.

Our century, friends, is a lazy one.

Most people have but
one sedentary occupation.

They do not get enough
exercise. They do not even walk enough.

In this era of machines which respond
to the push of a button,

thousands of people
are growing lazier...

They lack exercise,
both mental and physical...

Take the trouble to
contemplate the individuals in a crowd.

Observe the different
sizes and shapes.

Some are grossly fat,

others perhaps pot-bellied...

Still others are painfully thin...

But far worse in the
mental state of each,

of the average man.

Mankind is gradually degenerating,

despite the daily
growth of scientific knowledge.

In this regard, friends,

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And so, friends, this
is the Sunrise Preacher,

saying goodbye... for now.

I often listen to
him, when I'm not sleeping...

I have for years...

He never varies in the slightest.

His pitch is always the same.

For years, he's
signed off in the same way...

"And so, friends, this
is the Sunrise Preacher,

saying goodbye... for now".

I don't know if he's large or small,

fat, or thin, bald or bearded...

He's just a voice.

Like the man of June 18th.

For four years, he was just a voice!

Shall we breakfast at "Mahieu's"?

It's a little place on
St. Michel that opens at 5:25

You see some great
people at that hour.

People who talk like books,

like dictionaries...

In their delivery of each word,
they bring out its full meaning.

No slang, none of the verbal shorthand
of weekly news magazines.

I remember hearing an Arab say,

pronouncing each syllable:

"Apparently black women

make love in an
extraordinary manner.

When the man introduces
his sexual organ

into the woman's vagina,

apparently the heat
is like a furnace...

I was told that by a colonial
administrator".

I'd like to talk like that.

I can do it a bit, but
I'd like to master it totally.

Suddenly, in the midst
of a conversation, say:

"Apparently black women

make love in an
extraordinary manner.

When the man introduces his
sexual organ into the woman's vagina,

apparently the heat
is like a furnace...

I was told that by a colonial
administrator".

To speak with the words of
others... That's what I'd like.

That's what freedom must be.

I remember a park guard,

who we thought was a cop

because his uniform
was like a policeman's.

He used to pose riddles.

He'd say:

"Which district is
the dirtiest in Paris?"

People would say:

- The 1st?
- No, not the 1st.

- The 4th?
- No, not the 4th.

It's the 16th!

So people would say, "Ok, why?"

"Because they pick up La
Mere Dassault" (shit in buckets)

Or he'd ask: "Do you know
the best way to place a bet?"

With your wife".

And people: "Why?"

"Because you can win with a
betting slip or with no slip on at all!"

There was another story he told,

but I forget it.

There was a guy,
searching for apartment,

who ran into a guy
discussing the existence of God.

He told him:

"Mister, I'm hunting
for an apartment,

That's more important
than seeking God!"

A group of deaf-mutes made
an appalling racket.

Another group appeared to
be plotting, the Serbo-Croats...

It turned out they
were Serbo-Croats...

One day in May '68,

the cafe was crowded,

and everyone was crying.

A whole cafe, crying.

It was beautiful.

A tear-gas bomb had exploded.

If I hadn't been going there every
morning, I'd have seen none of that.

But there, before my very eyes,

a crack in reality opened up...

It's too late, let's not go.

I'm afraid...

I'm afraid it'll all be gone...

I'm afraid...

I wouldn't want to die.

Funny way to make a bed.

I saw it done in a film.

Films teach you how to
live, how to make a bed.

You should change the
sheets, they're dirty and bloody...

No, I won't change them.
It could arouse suspicion...

I think Marie's back.

Didn't you know?

No. Today, tomorrow...
I wasn't sure.

She'll see I've been there.

I think she already knows.

What'll you say?

I don't know. I'll see.

- Taking me home?
- Yes.

So, it's over...

I read at the "Flore", afternoons.

You could happen by there.

Or you could call me.

Ok, drive carefully.

When did you get back?

At 11:00. I went by "La
coupole", to see if you were there.

- You could've called.
- It was a surprise.

Nice, but I couldn't have known.

I can see you weren't bored.

The place reeks of her perfume.

You had quite a
party, glasses, bottles...

Ans she slept
here... Those breakfast cups.

I could hardly kick her out.

- Not in the middle of the night!
- Yes.

And all that time, I
was thinking of you.

Well, me too.

Shit! While fucking another girl!

You know you hurt me,

and you don't give a fuck!

Are you hurt, or pretending?

You're never very serious.

You can do better than that.

See, it's simple.

I know our "charming
little boy" routine...

I'm not bad at scenes, either...

- Sheets need changing...
- So change them...

Don't you want to help?

Fend for yourself.

I see you knocked over
an ashtray in your frenzy...

Frenzy... let's not
exaggerate, it was fairly calm...

Even the cushions smell. Disgusting!

I'm going to sleep
in the other room.

- Alone?
- Whatever you like.

French girl Wanted
for Murder In Vienna

It's not a good likeness.
They won't find her with this.

Think she should have killed him?

I don't think so. It
wouldn't be very smart of her.

No, I don't think she should have.

She does amazing things.

Last time I saw her,
she had a bandaged hand.

Another time, she had a bad foot
she hopped along on her good one.

She always comes up
with something new.

Ah, Veronika's here.
I'll introduce you.

- Leaving?
- Yes.

Still going to Ostende,
like Ferre's song?

I changed my mind.

I'm going to Hamburg,
like in the Piaf song.

- Got a car?
- Yes, yes.

Can you drive me to the airport?

Sure, no problem. What time?

In forty-five minutes.

The Drunk's here.

There's Sartre in the corner...

He drinks a lot. Look at his table.

You're wrong... He
just has half a bottle...

Yes. He's clever.

He orders half bottles,
to throw you off.

But the number of them!

He always staggers
out, you'll see...

I think his
philosophical positions -

"Maoism", "The People's
Cause" are so much drunken talk.

The other day, I nearly said?

"Aren't you ashamed, getting
so drunk, with a Nobel Prize?"

You can't take him
seriously anymore.

Not long ago, he talked to some
workers. He was perched on a barrel.

- He always brings it
- Chance doesn't exist.

- He's Maoist because China's red...
- Like wine...

Look...

She's a friend...

You saw her here with
me the other day...

It's funny, seeing someone you
know wanted for something like murder.

I knew another girl
who killed a guy.

But she killed herself too.

She did it beautifully.

They went to a
hotel. They made love.

She waited till he was
asleep, shot him in the heart,

then shot herself in the
mouth. She was a nurse, like you.

She always did an
incredible number, which she did badly.

But in the long run, the
phonier you are, the further you go.

Phoniness is the hereafter.

In retrospect, I was scared,
because I'd dated her earlier...

- You got off easy.
- Yes, a stroke of luck.

But in fact, she was
never in love with me.

A good thing.

Still, the girls I know are
ready to fire when necessary.

Sensational stuff, murderers,

are always rather
abstract in the papers...

But in your own life, it's
not the same thing.

I think the streets
are full of murderers.

Not potential murderers, real ones.

Especially in France.

It's another plot against
me. What else could it be?

The women who committed
suicide, the ones who went off with guys...

And now this one, who
has to hide or go to jail.

And if one holds
abortion to be a crime,

I know dozens, hundreds of murderers
and their accomplices.

The streets are really
full of murderers.

And they feel fine.

If you reproached
them, they'd be astonished.

They feel no remorse, quite
the contrary. Relief.

Police, justice, prison... What for?

With a new President, people
talk of amnesty. But that's wrong.

The only real amnesty

would be to open all
the prison doors at once.

And the criminals
would stream out like rats.

Yes-yes. They could even be
led by Duclos, the king of rats.

In small groups. Or one by
one. Coming down Boulevard Raspail.

They'd come and settle in here.

How awful! Stop!

They'd go everywhere. Your place.

Why my place? Why not your place?

I, fortunately don't have a place.

Excuse me. It's time for me to go.

I can take a taxi.
Stay here if you like.

No, I'll come with you.

See you soon, I hope.

- Bye.
- Bye.

I keep imposing myself
on you. Very rude of me.

Perhaps you want to be
alone. Or you're expecting someone...

The same.

Do you realize?

If Mr. Right walked by,

you might miss him because of me.

A heavy responsibility.

Why do you think I
come here every day?

I don't know

To meet Mr. Right!

Didn't you realize?

- Today, I have a date.
- Then I'll leave.

No, it's with a
friend, but she's always late.

But you can stay...
you might like her.

- What's she
like? - Pretty-ish.

- She's had many lovers...
- I don't know...

Women like that are
never that pretty.

And I hate to mix in conversations.

I'll go read in a
corner when she comes.

I come here to read, you know.
And with you here, I never have time.

- The rest of the day?
- I don't have time.

I'm a busy man.

Back to Mr. Right, if
you want my opinion,

I don't think you'll meet him soon.

- You think so?
- Yes, I do.

You may meet a guy you like.

Dark, curly hair, tan
- I think that's your type...

And end up sleeping with him.

But I don't think
you can fall in love.

You're very sure of yourself.

No, not at all.

On the other hand, I'm
convinced what surrounds me is lame.

It's funny

When I met you when I
saw you at the "Deux Magots"...

I was just killing time
waiting for Jean, and I killed Jean.

You say very beautiful things.

I don't know if they're
rehearsed or not.

But in a bad film, it
would be called the "message".

Another one, please.

Watch what you say.

If I try, I can say

a maximum on nonsense
in a minimum of time.

- You drink a lot.
- Do you mind?

- Do you mind?
- It wasn't a criticism. Excuse me.

Do you often pick up
girls like you did me?

I've told you, I never do.

But with you, I had
to. How was I to find you?

Remember what you said to me?

"I haven't time for a
drink. Have you a phone number?"

I remember very well. What
did you think, if I may ask?

I was surprised to see you there.

You weren't as cute as I thought...

I didn't think you'd call me.

I lied to you.

I was free. I didn't
come on purpose.

I thought so.

I didn't understand why
you wouldn't sleep with me.

I figured, maybe
he's sick, impotent...

And I found out you weren't.

Did it bother you that I didn't try?

How else would a girl feel,

when guys usually leap on her,

and then someone's
nice and doesn't try?

- May I tell you something?
- Yes.

I've talked about the
woman I lived with...

Your shitty ex-lover, who left?

My shitty ex-lover. Right.

She didn't just leave.

I wish she had left
with just a note.

"Goodbye. I'm leaving".

I'd have liked that.

You know, when I met you,
I'd just left her.

I'd talked to her.

I'd decided to fall in
love with the first girl I met.

You were that woman. Shall I go on?

I don't believe in chance.

I needed that break-up to meet you.

I could've gone by
earlier, or across the street.

And when you didn't
show up that first time,

she came by, and we had a drink.

I leave her, I see you.
You don't come, she does.

Then, you come.

Why didn't we meet
sooner. A month, a year ago?...

We cruised the same areas.

I don't see how people leave people.

I never left anyone.

That's why I always get left.

I think life, the passage of time,

take care of the job of
pulling people together or apart.

I don't do anything.
I let time do it.

Why should I do someone else's job?

You know about Sacha Guitry
and his first wife?

He was at home with his wife.

Sunk down in a
high-backed chair, hidden completely.

Suddenly, he hears the door open
behind him, and recognizes

the voice of an actor, who says:

"Darling, are you alone?"

So he gets up, appears and replies:

"I'm not alone... I didn't know
you cared enough to call me darling".

Soon after, he divorced her.

Women who have good guys
always cheat with creeps.

It's probably a form of
self-expression for them.

My last months with Gilberte,

I only remember a few indications:

There were whiskey bottles in
the hall. I wanted them saved.

There was blood on the
walls, from our fights.

Once, I hit her very
hard, and broke something.

Her face was bandaged for two weeks.

Last time we made love,

she looked like Frankenstein.

I left, I went to
Marie's, but I had nightmares,

so I came back in the
night. And it started again.

And that was when she
said she was pregnant.

That infuriated me...

She started crying, I left.

Afterwards, I don't know.

I thought for a few days...

Suddenly... I was in a bus...

I felt something, very deeply.

It was an unfamiliar
feeling, very strong.

A veritable revelation.

Suddenly, I felt very happy.

I wanted to live with her,

which I hadn't done in ages...

I wanted to work,
to have that child.

I raced to her apartment.

She wasn't there.

I looked everywhere,
I called her friends.

She'd disappeared.

Then someone told me.

She didn't want to
see me. She was hiding.

She said she didn't love me.

You know,

when you leave someone you love,

you should say what I said before:

"Goodbye, I'm leaving".

But to disappear...

to hide, like a
criminal, that's base.

I suddenly felt I was being made
a character in a bad film.

A slick melodrama.

Just when the man
realizes he loves the woman,

the woman realizes she doesn't
love him anymore.

It's a pathetic story.

I don't think life can
be like these strange worlds

which bar reentry
once the doors close.

I'd rather she'd died,

committed suicide.

A bit later, I found out...

She had an abortion.

And was living with the guy who did
it... Or who helped her... Whatever.

Abortionists are
the new Robin Hoods,

the new chivalrous knights.

They no longer defend
widows and orphans,

they save women from the
disgrace in their bellies.

The scalpel replaces the sword,

the probe replaces the sabre.

And women always belong
to their rescuers.

I definitely don't like heroes.

Nausea is a noble disorder.

It is not the name that fits

this dust,

this shame,

that sticks in my throat,

that I cannot swallow,

nor spit up.

When someone leaves, and we suffer,
we never quite know why.

It's not just love. It's pride,
self-love. I resigned myself to it.

I tried to stop
suffering, or to cut it short,

knowing one day it would stop.

But when the earth trembles
under our feet...

when love,

success, revolution
no longer mean anything...

You know,

the world will be saved by children,

soldiers... and madmen.

I think your friend is here.

She didn't see you.
She's over there.

- You can stay.
- No, I'm going over there.

- Hello, don't you remember
me? Your name's Virginia.

No. My name is Veronika.

That's right. We
met in the country...

Yes, I remember you very well...

By the way, we're
having a little party,

a little party for
Maurice's birthday.

At my place, due de Vaugirard.

- Leaving, Alexandre?
- Yes, yes.

- Stay a bit.
- No, I'm tired. So long.

Don't you want to come?

No, I'm going to the movies.

I must really love you
to chase you in the street.

Why did you go? I asked you to stay.

You were with people.

That wasn't important.

They seemed to amuse
you, more than me.

He's very amusing.

He's dumb, thinks he's irresistible.

And it's fun to hear bullshit.

Perhaps...

I followed you because
I wanted to be with you.

You're very nice, but I can't.

You have things to do?
I thought you were free.

No, I'm free, but I
told you, I have a full life.

You know, I'd like
to fuck you again.

Why not say it?

Chicks don't usually say that?

I love you, and I
want to fuck you again.

Can you bring guys to your room?

No, but all the girls do it.

We could go there. But not today.

You won't come to my room.

You respect the rules?

I've brought a lot of guys up there.

Why do you think I insisted
on a double bed?

But I don't want the man I
love to see my sordid place.

Well, it's a privilege
I'm happy to have.

But you know,

I make sure the women
I know have apartments,

since I don't.

I only sleep with that kind.

Me, I fuck a lot of Arabs and Jews.

That's something else...

You're on an alien kick.

Yes. I adore aliens.
I adore fucking aliens.

It turns me on, too. Sorry,
but it does. Every time.

Don't be sorry.

But then why me?

I don't know. Stupid, probably.

Why shouldn't women be
able to say they want to fuck?

The ones who don't
are idiots, right?

I don't know.

Yes, probably...

If you're busy now,
couldn't we meet later?

Whenever you like.

I'll try to be at the
"Flore" at midnight.

But it's not definite. Where
will we go? I don't like hotels.

- Why? Hotels are fine.
- No, that's no good.

And I'd kind of like
to go to your place.

I'll be at the "Flore" at midnight.

Can I drop you off?

Yes, at my place.

- Would you like a drink?
- Yes.

I can make coffee... Nescafe.

You have nothing else?

Sure, water.

No, make me a Nescafe.

What have you done since I saw you?

I went and fucked... or
got fucked... whichever...

I thought so. Your
make-up is messed up.

I called an ex-lover.

An intern who was on duty at Necker.

Want it strong or weak?

Strong.

I dig up ex-lovers when I want to.

I upset some of them, when their
wives answer the phone.

But I don't like fucking
with them anymore.

I'm not happy.

Then why do it? You
didn't have to...

You annoyed me.

I wanted to stay with
you. I told you. I insisted.

You sure humiliated me.

I think I did it just
to get back at you.

You had a few hours to kill.

You could have spent
them at home, watching TV.

Watching TV?

I wanted to get
fucked... I wanted a cock!

It's nice to sleep a feeling a cock,
even soft, against your ass.

But you're jealous?

I don't know...

No, it excites me.

One sugar, or two?

One.

I like your room.
It smells of hospital

My room smells of
hospital? How awful!

- I'm a mess.
- Yes.

Think so?

Yes, but you have a way of being
a mess which suits you.

Come here.

So, what did you do
with your ex-lover?

I don't like to tell.

Anyway it went so fast.

He wanted it, then?

Yes. I've always turned him
on. I give him an instant hard-on.

You found a bed?

Kicked a patient out?
How did you manage?

- There's a couch in his office.
- Oh, I see...

Very efficient...

You don't want to tell?

No... He said "Undress,
do what I like".

What's that?

- I won't tell.
- Then do it to me.

No, it's too tiring.

You're showing bad
faith. I'd rather go...

Stay. I'll do it if you can guess.

What did you use?

Tell me if I'm hot...

Or cold...

Help me...

When I'm not drunk,
I'm super-modest.

Turn off the light. It's there.

You undressed fast the other day.

While you weren't looking.

That's my technique.
I always do like that.

Alexandre, I'm going to work.

Stay and sleep, if you like.

- What time is it?
- 6:45.

No-no, I'm going to get up.

You're very beautiful...

Come a bit closer...

Don't the doctors do that all day?

They used to. Not anymore.

And the patients?

The patients, never.

- Any time to make love?
- No, I'm going to the O.R.

Who are you going to kill today?

I'll leave you a key.

Lock the door. You can keep it.

How much is it?

It's on the tag.

May I try it on?

Yes. In here.

Excuse me?

- Here.
- Thank you.

Bye.

You can come over here.

I have something for
you. A scarf. I set it aside

I think it'll look good on you.

I like it. What do you think?

Yes. Yes.

- It's Veronika.
- No, I don't want to.

Oh, go on, work it
out, it's your affair.

- Hello.
- Hello. It's Veronika Am I intruding?

Well, yes... I was asleep.

Excuse me.

It doesn't matter. What's up?

I'd like to see you.

What's that noise? I can't hear you.

I'm at the
"Bibloquet". Want to come meet me?

No. I'm tired, not
tonight. I'll call you tomorrow.

You won't come?

No-no. I'll call you
tomorrow. Good night.

What did she want?

For me to go to meet her.

She's at a night club. She's drunk.

She's a bit lost, huh?

It's obvious.

I thought people who worked

were more stable than the others.

Or at least pretend to be.

Even if it's a shitty work.

Even if they don't
make enough for bread.

I heard a cliche recently:

How it was...

Wait...

"The man in the street".

I don't feel at all
like "the man in the street".

I should stay in. One must
always let people be right.

I rather like it that
she acts the way she does...

Gets shit-faced, calls
in the middle of the night...

Because if the people who work...

If "the man in the
street" starts flipping out too

tu use a somewhat dated expression,

then some interesting
things will happen.

Because I've had about
enough of these people feeling smug

with their cars,
vacations, families...

I used to think: why
do they keep on working?

Why don't they pack it
in? Why don't they leave?

Anywhere, nowhere.

Once, I fell asleep on the highway

Between Marseilles and Lyons.

Those lines zipping by...

I fell asleep for a few seconds...

I woke up when my car
bumped the guard rail on the left.

I clutched the wheel,
desperately, trying to stay awake.

And I saw, it wasn't a mirage,

I really saw... as if
one could see the same place

1000 years ago, or in 1000 years...

That blacktop highway,

all cracked and fissured,

overgrown with weeds,

a vestige of ancient civilization.

Useless.

Ruined.

The Parthenon, the pyramids...

The highway, the factories,

it was all the same.

And on that path,

men,

women,

vagabonds

their goods tied to a
stick slung on their shoulders,

walking, like the
end of a Chaplin film.

But not going anywhere.

It was over.

Just going...

I thought, there's
not much longer...

Soon, all this would be over...

Housing projects, cars, cinemas...

Maybe someone very old, really old,

will still remember

and tell the youths about movies...

Pictures that moved, and talked.

And the young won't understand...

It's crazy that you
really still believe in a man

What does that mean?

In what man?

"The man in the street"?

There's another
cliche I like. It goes:

"The Underprivileged classes".

See, there's

"the textile bourgeoisie",

"the underprivileged classes",

"the man in the street",

"unwed mothers", etc.

A name for everything.

In exchange for so-called work,
men accept money from other men.

You can ask anything of men

who accept money from others,

even to take their pants down.

To play the game, you
need the same weapons...

And know how to use them...

Dueling was good.

One was pitted against equals.

Thugs murdered with
knives in the back.

I'm rather in favor of that.

Strike unawares,

from behind.

When I make love with
you, I think only of death,

of earth,

of ashes.

You never told me that.

I always think about it.

So, you're making love with death.

Why?

Do you see rivers,
rushing waterfalls?

- Hello. Can I speak to Alexandre?
- He's asleep.

Can you wake him?

Listen, you know you
can't wake him when he's asleep.

Then, I'm coming over.

Listen, Veronika,

we'd like a little peace and quiet.

- You're at 234, right?
- Yes.

Okay. I'm coming.

She's coming.

You should have said no, been firm.

Listen, my friend,
that's your business.

Anyway, she's so drunk.

What time is it?

4:00 a.m.

Listen, my friend, I want to say

that your romances are
starting to piss me off.

No-no. It's fine.

I like people who disobey.

You tell them "Don't
come", they come.

You tell them "Leave", they stay.

Like drunks thrown out of a bar.

You say "Go", they come back.

I don't like dignity.

My only dignity, is my cowarding.

She's not alone.

If she's with a guy, throw them out.

I don't have any
money. Can you pay my taxi?

She needs money for the taxi
and the guy is grabbing her ass.

There's some money in my pocket.

Nothing do drink here?

I think you've had enough, honey.

Honey?

Maybe I'm disturbing you.

Maybe you were fucking?

Shitty old Alexandre!

Rotten old Mary,

with breasts of a woman of thirty.

And you... Sweet,
tender, pure Veronika.

Pure? Me?

I'm completely rotten.

Don't mind what I say.

I've drunk a maximum tonight.

Can I get in the sack with you?

You know what would please me?

For you two to fuck.

If you want to fuck Alexandre,
he won't mind.

I don't want to
fuck. What do you think?

I don't want him and his old cock.

Ever noticed his cock
looks like the spout of a teapot?

No. What would please
me is for you two to fuck.

You love each other. People
in love, fucking...

That's the most
beautiful thing there is.

You're beautiful, Mary...

With my body of a woman of thirty?

Cut the crap. You're very beautiful.

Look at your legs...

But women don't turn me on.

What time is it?

Aren't you going to work?

I'll call in. I'll work it out.

I'm crazy about you.

What's that?

I'm crazy about you.

Marie invited some friends over.

- I'm handling drinks.
- Your friends?

No, hers. They're OK, you'll see.

They won't mind me?

No. I checked with Marie.

- Know where the liquor is?
- No.

Over there.

See, here we are!

I never lose my way
when it comes to liquor.

- Like this whiskey?
- I only drink it with Coke.

With this one, it'd be criminal!

We'll get a cheap
whiskey to have it with Coke.

This one, you'll taste
it, you'll love it.

You'll see, they'll
think we're drunk.

Good to see you.

- How's Charles?
- He's coming.

What's for dinner?

Lapin a la moutarde.

Great. This will be delicious.

We took care of the booze.

I'll have a drop.

- Anything to nibble on?
- No.

No. Thank you.

- Where are you going?
- I'll be back.

- I've got something to say.
- Yes.

There's an extra guest.

That's too bad... Who?

I hope you won't be an
asshole. It's Philippe.

No! I won't stand for it!

Listen, come on Alexandre!

No, absolutely not!

Fine. I'm leaving!
Have a nice evening!

Listen, Alexandre!

Wait, there's been a
change of plan. A scene.

- Over me?
- No.

Get in the car, I'll explain.

I took a few bottles.
We can get drunk anywhere.

I don't want to get drunk.

Too bad. She does make good
lapin a la moutarde.

What happened?

Oh nothing... She invited a guy.

I don't know if he's a
boyfriend, some Cultural Attache...

Excuse me, I'm furious.

Alexandre, I love you.

- If you want me to
leave if that would help...

No. if you go, I'll go with you.

I don't think it will work out.

You disgust me.
You're totally selfish.

Go fuck the whole world!

You're a dirty bastard!

I'll be back. Have any cigarettes?

What do you want? Leave me alone!

It was going fine
tonight, What did you try to prove?

- You knew damn well.
- No, I didn't.

I thought you could do something
for me. But you're incapable!

What you do well is drain people.

But dinner with Philippe tonight
would have been too much for you.

That's the truth. Far too much.

Shut up! Everything
you say is dirty!

And what you're doing isn't dirty?

No. It's you. You soil
anything you touch.

- Why didn't you say?
- I didn't know.

Charles ran into
him and invited him.

You could have said
no... Or asked me...

If only you'd done
it as a provocation!

You let others act for you.

Do you know
irresponsibility aggravates crime!

Your friends invite someone,
and that's all right with you?

You have no say?!

Hello. Charles Lemoine, please.

Try the terrace...

I'll meet you there...
I'll explain...

I'll call you.

Thank you for waiting.

We're going up.

But if you don't feel right, leave.

You know, I love Marie very
much. These spats won't change that.

Hand me the bottles...

Let's open these anyway...

I'll get glasses.

- I suppose you're not hungry anymore.
- No.

Me neither.

People take all sorts of
things to kill their appetites.

They should try a
good scene once in a while.

The Stomach knots up.
You can't eat. It's great.

You who cure cancer,

who heal the most
incredible suffering...

Have you never sought
a cure for this?

It isn't new...

Since the first love affair...

Way back,

at the beginning of time,

people fucked,
coupled... no problems.

Everyone together.

Then one day, someone
wanted one woman for himself.

He said "She's mine, hands off!".

The first love affair. He didn't
know what he was doing.

So, is there no cure?
Shots? An operation?

Try vitamin, "M" (love)

How about the
rabbit... Feel up to it?

Not now. Maybe later...

Can I make you up? I
love it! Come here...

- Ooh-la-la...
- What's going on?

Alexandre's doing it
up big... This record...

You two make me
laugh with your games.

Oh, please, Veronika.

Let me speak. Don't you
see how ridiculous you two are?

You should make Alexandre up too.

Fuck off!

I promise, Alexandre,
It'll be very becoming.

Yes-yes, very becoming.

Nice, eh?

If you go out like that, you'll
turn a maximum of guys on.

He should get it up the
ass. It won't hurt him.

It'd do him good.

That's your problem,
and you know it.

You should give it a try, Alexandre.

I hate being in the middle.

Want to get there?

No. Leave me alone.

If I'm in the way, I
can use the other room.

Cut out the bullshit.

You're the happiest
man in the world.

You're in the sack with
two chicks who love you.

I'll take the middle,

but let me sleep...

Fuck me... Fuck me...

No!

How many to sleep?

1 or 2.

The whole thing?

How does one handle this?

Let her be. She's
doing what she wants.

No, we've got to go something!

Are you crazy?

Now I'm going to
sleep! Leave me alone.

That's enough.
Blow! Get the hell out!

Fuck in hospitals, fuck
anywhere, but get out of here!

Calm down. Everything's cool...

Shut up! I've had it!

I'm closing up!

You have shitty
relationships with the women.

But at times, you're
nice, you seem to love people,

but you have shitty relationships.

Your Gilberte...

Whatever you did,
she must've loved you.

Especially if she was a virgin.

For her to be with his asshole,

you must've made her sad, or crazy.

She should've stayed with you.

You can be very nice.

You must've fucked her well,

you're not bad in bed.

Yes. You drove her crazy.

And you and Marie...
A shitty couple.

Love isn't like that, it's simple.

Even when it ends.

When I lived with the yogurt guy,

It was simple and beautiful.

And that's how it ended.

You're screwed up.

But I love you.
You're all I think of.

You came into my life,
and you've done me good.

You may be right.

I'm not very gifted.

I may not have the vocation
of life. But I love you...

You don't love me. You love Marie.

You live and sleep with her, you
wash with her, you shit with her.

You love one woman, fuck
another. What a load of shit it all is!

There's something I'd like.

Would you do it?

What?

Smile.

There. Happy?

Yes. Very.

Oh, now I remember

the story that guy
told, that I'd forgotten...

That 5:30 in the morning stuff...

He'd say:

"You know what's the difference between
Lyme disease and the clap"?

You know what it is?

Lyme disease is spread by ticks. (Lit:
Myxomatosis disease is spread by rabits.)

And the clap is spread by dicks.

All that at 5:25 a.m.

I hate to bad-mouth people,

but Marie isn't simple.

She kisses me, calls
me "honey", takes my hand.

You two and your shitty blow-ups...

I don't come to see her,
whatever I say, it's you.

Because I like you.

But you're not simple either.

You're an asshole and that's it.

How can anyone say "You're
the only man I ever loved"?

How ridiculous.

Me saying:

"Alexandre, you're so beautiful..."

What an asshole you are.

How I hate you.

I'd like another whiskey.

Two whiskeys.

I thought of you in the
toilet. A bit of graffiti...

"My passion opens out on
death like a window on a courtyard".

And someone had added:
"Jump, Narcissus!"

It reminded you of me?

Don't you see the likeness?

Veronika called. She's coming over.

I told her you were sick.

She's bringing medicine.

- Going out?
- Getting cigarettes.

Who are the roses for, me?

Hello, Alexandre. Are you sick?

I bought some Pernod for
Veronika, and she brought us some whiskey.

Want me to give you a shot?

- What kind?
- He's scared of shots.

I'll give you an
intravenous shot of vitamin C.

In your lovely veins.

You'll see, you'll feel great.

He's terrified of shots.
It's really to make you happy.

Hold the cotton.

You'll have a lump,
because you didn't press down.

It'll be your fault, not mine.

I'd like... the night
nurse... She gets naked...

Gives a few shots...

Hops in bed with the
patients... Not at all embarrassed.

But when I had that shift,

I had cancerous wretches
with holes in their necks,

who spat, who gargled...

with a stench of
disease and decay...

Being a nurse can be pretty
horrible at times.

You're so aware of people suffering,

ready to kick off...

In spite of what Alexandre thinks.

How do you know?

Oh, I don't know anything.

I know less and less.

And on that note,
Veronika, discreetly, disappears.

The blonde Slav disappears.

It's not at all her style...

You know, Alexandre...

The first stiff I ever
saw was my grandfather,

who had T.B.
- Lung disease, the old Polack.

And right to the end, he insulted
my old grandmother.

He was real mean.

But he was really nuts.

From 50 on, he started
reading his rosary.

He became the local mystic.

I was 15 when he died.

The whole neighborhood
turned out, the old church crones...

A maximum of priests came
to fatten up at the house.

People said: "A saint is dead".

And my grandmother,

the superstitious old Pole,

saw him move.

And the corner grocer,

who extended her a
maximum of credit,

and sniffed ether,

also saw him move.

And there I was, 15 years old,

and I saw he didn't move.

Well, an angel's passing.

That angel's always late.

Can't you put on an old record?

No. But you can go on talking.

You know, nobody ever married me.

With me, it was a
chance. A social marriage.

You were lucky.

I never had a social marriage.

I was deflowered, socially, by
an old doctor, when I was 20.

I never flirted.

I told him: " I want you
to fuck me, break me in."

Alexandre thinks I
have a Negress' body.

No... he knows you're no Negress.

No. But I'm not
exactly blonde and blue-eyed...

You're not a blue-eyed
blonde, but you're not black.

Alexandre is fixated
on blue-eyed blondes.

He got fixated on me
thinking I was a new Gilberte.

A new, bare-assed,
fanny-swinging Gilberte.

A non-prudish Gilberte.

You found a non-virginal Gilberte.

You found a whorish Gilberte.

What luck!

What fun... and I'm enjoin it!

Pretending to sleep.
Maximum role-playing.

Shall we play roles?

Alexandre, you're the
only man I ever loved.

With you it was super-cool!

Come here, Veronika.

Know, I like you a lot...

I'm an asshole, but I
still understand a lot...

Because I'm likable.

If you knew how good
I feel right now.

I told you I wanted
to give you a present.

But I think it'll be too big. You'd
have to take it in under the arms.

Ever seen Veronika take anything
in under the arms?

Don't give me a present.

You two together,
that's a super present.

Cut the bullshit.

No, you've told me,
that's super enough.

I don't want it.

Can I be let in on it?

No, you can't.

It's our secret.

Well, if it's your secret...

You're lucky to have two
chicks who love you and have a secret.

When you're an old
man in a wheelchair,

with a super-chick putting
drops in your nose, or somewhere,

remember this.

You're super-lucky, with two chicks
who love you and get along.

Which doesn't always happen.

Last time, it wasn't like that.

Get that into your little head,

because your head isn't very big.

No, no vague fondling,
Alexandre... What do you think...

By fooling with a
girl's breasts or sex...

What do you think...?

For me, that's not it at all.

And I love you. And I
say it in front of Marie.

Your sex...

What a super complex
he has about it!

Your sex, Alexandre,
which makes me come so much...

Your sex doesn't mean a thing to me.

And on that, she helps herself
to another Pernod.

Your head, which
understands everything

and talks about
grandiloquent things,

which are absolutely ridiculous
and pretentious...

The funny thing is, one of
us takes himself seriously,

and another doesn't.

Guess which one does?

Of you two, or us three?

Us two. Alexandre and me.

Listen, Marie, allow
me, just this once...

I allow you...

Allow me, please, Marie.

Allow me, for one
dreary sex story...

Once and for all, both of you,

these fuck stories
mean nothing to me.

And I don't give a
shit that you two fuck.

I'm so happy with you.

I don't give a shit,

understand that I don't give a shit,

that i love you.

Look, I'm starting to
get drunk and I'm slurring,

and that's horrible,
because what I say, I really mean.

I could stay with you forever,
I feel so happy.

I feel loved by you two.

And that one, looking at me
slyly with his beady eyes, thinking:

Chat away, baby, I'll get you.

Please, Alexandre, I'm not
playing a role. What do you think?

For me, there are no whores.

For me, a girl who

lets anyone fuck her,
any way, is no whore.

For me, there are no
whores, that's all.

You can suck anyone, get
fucked by anyone, you're no whore.

I agree completely.

There are no whores on
earth, understand that.

And you must understand.

The woman who's
married, and who's happy,

and who dreams of
getting fucked by anyone,

by her husband's boss,
or by some shitty actor,

or by her milkman, by her
plumber... Is she a whore?

There are no whores.
What does that mean, whore?

There are just cunts, genitals.

What do you think? It's
not sad, it's super-happy...!

I get fucked by anybody,

they fuck me and I get off...

Why put so much
importance on these fuck stories?

Sex...

You fuck me well.
Oh, how I love you!

Only you can fuck me like that.

How people can fool
themselves... There's just one you, just one me.

Only you can fuck me like that.

Only I can be fucked
like that by you.

How funny.

How horrible and sordid. Fuck,

how sordid and horrible!

If you know how I
can love you two...

And how it can have
nothing to do with sex.

I lost my virginity recently, at 20.

19.20... how recent.

And afterwards, I got fucked.

I took a maximum of
lovers, and got fucked.

It may be a chronic
disease... Chronic fucking...

And yet I don't give
a fuck about fucking.

Getting knocked up... now,
that would piss me off a maximum.

I keep a Tampax in, so to get
me to take it out, and to fuck,

you'd have to excite me a
maximum. I don't give a fuck.

If people could dig once and
for all that fucking is shit.

That just one thing is beautiful:

fucking because you're so in love,

you want to make a
baby who looks like you,

and otherwise, it's
something sordid...

You should only fuck
if you're in love.

And I'm not drunk...

If I'm crying, it's
for my whole past life,

my past sex life, which is so short.

Five years of sex life...

that's not much.

See, Marie, I'm talking
to you because I love you.

So many men have fucked me,

and wanted me, you know...

They wanted me because I had a
big ass, which can be desirable.

I have pretty breasts which
are very desirable.

My mouth isn't bad either,

and with make-up,

my eyes aren't bad either.

I've been fucked a
lot, meaninglessly.

Desired a lot, and
fucked, meaninglessly.

I'm not dramatizing,
Marie. I'm not drunk.

What do you think, that
I'm brooding on my shitty fate?

Absolutely no.

I've been fucked like a whore...

But, you know, I think some day

a man will come along
and will love me,

and will make me a
baby, out of love.

Love is nothing unless you want
to make a baby together.

If you want that, you feel
you love each other.

A couple that doesn't
want a baby is not a couple,

it's a shit, it's anything, dust...

Those free super-couples...

You fuck on your side, darling,

I'll fuck on mine.

We're super-happy together.

We get back
together. Aren't we fine!

I'm not reproaching
you... On the contrary.

My sadness isn't a
reproach, you know...

It's an old sadness I've dragged
around for five years.

Nothing to do with you.

How nice you can be together.

Look,

you're going to be happy.

This sure is cheerful!

Aren't you hungry?

Don't you want to eat?

Aren't you hungry? Don't
you want to eat, Alexandre?

What are you writing?

Your life?

Packing up?

I'm used to it.

Go on! Fuck away! Fight!

Snarl at each other, and fuck away!

Enough's enough.

No shitty drunkenness...

No heavy complaints.

Enough's enough.

It's much heavier.

Won't you take me home, Alexandre?

That's it. Go ahead. Good night.

- What are you putting on? Don Juan?
- No

The lovers of Paris
lie down with my song

In Paris, lovers love
each other in their own way

The refrains I tell them are
more beautiful than the beautiful days

Of which Springtime is
full, and Springtime is love

My verse was lost on a garden border

It was never returned
to me and I know very well

That the lovers of
Paris have stolen my songs

In Paris, lovers have
their own strange ways

The lovers of Paris meet at Robinson

Where you keep track of
the notes of the accordion

The lovers of Paris
will change seasons,

Taking by the hand my
little scrap of song.

There's plenty of gold,
plenty of lilac and eyes to see them

Usually that's how they begin,
these love stories.

The lovers of Paris meet at Robinson

In Paris, lovers have
their own strange ways

I have a chain of love
around my two hands

There are millions of
lovers and I have only a refrain

You see all around the
boys of the whole world.

Who would give a lot
for Springtime to come

For them it's not much
because the beautiful month of May

is what I've pasted everywhere
in their calendar

The lovers of Paris
have used my songs

In Paris, lovers have
their own strange ways

Give me songs,

so that we love each other

In Paris.

I'll walk you in.

If you like. I walk straight
when I'm drunk.

Walk, let's see.

- Let me go!
- What's got into you?!

What are you doing here? Let me go!

You disgust me.

Stop.

Your old drunkenness again.

My old drunkenness again.

I'll walk you to your room.

You disgust me!

I may be pregnant by you.

I love you.

You can't even let
people you love be drunk!

You're pitiful.

Don't touch me! Leave!

What are you doing here?

Give me back my key! My key!

Oh, that's enough!

Do you love me?

Do you love me?!

Yes!

Will you marry me?

I'm sick. I'm going to throw up.

If you want to marry
me, be useful, get a basin.

I don't like to be
watched when I throw up.