Original subtitles

WINNER OF THE GRAND PRIZE OF THE CITY OF VENICE 1961

LEON MORIN PRIEST

It must've been around 8 in the evening.

I was coming back from a neighbouring village when I saw a group

of strange young men in the park, staring at the passers-by.

They were wearing funny little felt hats topped with a tall feather.

I would've taken them for street actors had it not been for the stack of guns.

Our town was occupied by Italian soldiers.

The weight of that occupation seemed light to me.

Censorship alone reminded me of the rigours of a war grown distant.

I worked at a correspondence school correcting French schoolwork.

Mr Edelman was an old philosophy teacher

who, like myself, had been stranded at the school by the hazards of war.

I liked Sabine Levy, the director's personal assistant.

The sight of her sent me flying through time and space.

I thought that authority must belong to beautiful beings.

I felt an intense pleasure when my gaze sparred with hers,

until, unable to take it any longer, I was forced to lower my eyes,

savouring her victory.

You see,

she reminds me of the beautiful youths in scripture,

the saints,

wielding the traveller's staff,

the fiery sword or the rod, and who are angels.

She looks like an Amazon, like Pallas,

like a samurai.

When she leans over me as I work,

I feel like I'm in the shade of a palm tree.

In short, you want to sleep with her.

Are you mad? How dreadful!

If Sabine fascinates me, it's because she looks like a young man,

but blessed with a singular charm,

a subtle, feminine virility.

Everything about her charmed me.

The diversity of her intelligence, her strange beauty.

I felt attached to her by a bond stronger than that of mating.

The papers are saying the Germans will occupy the town.

We'll make eyes at them so they don't shoot us.

I'd rather be shot than make eyes at them.

They'll be late baptisms, that's all.

Lucienne, Jenny and I decided to baptise our children,

who were half-Jewish or wholly of Communist descent.

Once we have the baptism certificates, we'll just doctor the dates.

What about the godparents?

Yes, of course. That's more involved.

I've thought about it, and this is my suggestion.

I'll be godmother to France, your daughter.

You, Barny, will be godmother to my daughter Jaqueline and to Jenny's son.

Emile, Jenny's husband, will be godfather to my daughter

and to your daughter, France.

You, Barny, Jenny...

No, sorry. I'll be godmother to Jenny's daughter.

Your children will just have to do without a godfather.

Let's write this down so we keep it straight.

All right...

- Hello, Barny. - Hello.

- It's hot! - Be quiet.

It's too hot!

Be quiet or I'll call the fur salesman!

Help me, Barny. Polish her shoes.

There isn't a brush? How about a cloth?

Never mind, take the curtain.

We shouldn't make the priest wait. Pierre is already there with Emile.

Your slip! Turn around, for heaven's sake!

Stop it!

You really should avoid smashing your head in.

May as well wait until afterwards at least.

Receive the salt of wisdom. May it be a pledge of everlasting life.

- It's bad. - That's war for you, mate.

May peace be with you.

Are you sure he won't ring the bells?

Emerging from the dark church into the light

were four children baptised by the grace of God and the Germans.

The members of the Resistance embraced their wives and children

and then went back into the woods.

I see the believers and their priest as a challenge.

They live off paper money.

I'm going to tell them what I think. Know what I'm going to do?

I set my sights on the church of Saint-Bernard.

PRIEST CONFESSION TUESDAY, THURSDAY TO SATURDAY - BEFORE MASS

I ruled out the priest likely to be the oldest

and most impervious to kidding around.

That left the two curates, Philippe De Manoir...

ABBOT CONFESSION MONDAY, THURSDAY TO SATURDAY - BEFORE MASS

...and Léon Morin.

I had to guess who would be more receptive based on their names alone.

Philippe must come from a bourgeois family.

Considering the name they gave him, Leon's parents must be peasants.

Léon it was.

I was afraid, but turning back was not an option.

Morin was supposed to be there at 5:30pm.

- Religion is the opium of the people. - Not exactly.

It's the bourgeois who distorted it to their own benefit.

But you allowed them do it. You're one and the same now.

The Church has lost the working class, it's true. But we're reacting.

Taking communion will strengthen the resolve of a righteous man on strike.

The Christian heart loathes injustice.

That's not all.

Even if religion had remained pure, that wouldn't prove its truth to me.

Of course. It's good that you came.

How's that? I came here as an enemy.

I don't believe that.

It's been a long time since you've been to confession.

Not since my First Communion, but I'm not here to confess.

I know it's not fun to acknowledge your faults in front of others.

Fun or not, it doesn't matter because I don't believe in God.

Are you sure? Do you ever pray?

Only when I can't help it.

A leftover habit from my childhood, a weakness.

- You're proud, aren't you? - Yes.

Do you sometimes lie?

Yes.

- Have you ever stolen anything? - Yes.

- What did you steal? - Food.

- Do you ever get angry? - Yes.

- Do you sin against purity? - I don't know.

- Do you make sacrifices for others? - Only for my daughter.

- Do you serve your duty of state? - More or less.

- Are you realising your full potential? - No.

Saint Paul said, "The world would be better if you were."

That was a good confession. Now ask for forgiveness.

- Ask whom? - Ask...

Ask X.

We'll stay like this until the end of the world.

You lack courage.

Forgive me.

- Do you want me to give you penitence? - No.

Yes. A penitence would be good for you.

After you leave the confessional, go and kneel.

On one of the velvet chairs?

No, on the flagstones.

They'll hurt your knees a little. There, say a prayer of your choosing.

That pseudo-prayer could only be a mockery since I'm not a believer.

Prayers are always a mockery.

The disproportion between them and the Almighty is vast.

But what if the person saying them takes them seriously, believes in them?

Who told you that the effort is less worthy than the faith?

- I feel no remorse. - I should hope not.

Judas felt remorse, that's why he hanged himself.

It is repentance that is asked of us, just the opposite of remorse.

I could repent

if I had chosen Christianity as my line of moral conduct.

Even so, you live in a Christianised world.

Are you always pleased with yourself when you sin

against the collective conscience?

No.

My behaviour is determined by heredity, agencies, circumstances.

You're a robot, then? Lower your head so I can give you absolution.

It's easy to get me to play along, isn't it?

Relatively.

I...

absolve you of your sins.

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

May the passion of Jesus Christ, our Lord,

the merits of the blessed Virgin Mary and of all the saints,

everything good you have done,

and everything you have had to suffer, aid you in the remittance of your sins,

the acquisition of grace, and the conquest of everlasting life.

Amen.

- Shall I lend you some books? - Yes.

The presbytery is opposite the cinema. When can you come?

Only in the evenings.

Can you come Wednesday at 20:30? Third floor.

Father Morin. You won't forget?

You may go now.

I remembered the pain that had been inflicted on me.

I walked happily, light, precious, fragile.

I didn't know if I should attribute my joy

to the complete freedom of my thoughts or to the absolution I'd been given.

Wednesday night I walked through town, paused in front of shop windows,

took shortcuts, made detours,

and reached, at the agreed time,

the alley that separated the church from the presbytery.

NIGHT BELL FOR SACRAMENTS

Hello.

Hello.

How have you been since the other day?

- Were the streets of St-Bernard kind? - Yes... No.

Anyhow, I'll never enter a church again, except as a tourist.

- We're all tourists in a way. - It's not the same.

Some people aren't scandalised by gilding.

It scandalises me as much as it does you. All that junk should be burned.

- You're a priest and you say that? - Yes.

You think priests like religious trinkets?

- They allow them to exist. - Not all of them.

We fight. It's hard, but there is already a bit of progress.

For example, there is no longer a class system for our burials.

Sometimes it would take three priests to put a man in the ground. For what?

Burial is not a sacrament. It's secondary.

We're not undertakers, we're here for the living.

If that's your accomplishment, reducing the number of priests at a burial...

We also did away with collection. It's always a question of money in church,

so the people who don't have any don't come.

Yes, but that has to do with the non-application of Christ's teachings.

Question number one is, "Are Christ's teachings viable?"

What is your idea of Christ?

I read the Gospels, of course, and Renan.

- That's all? - And...

Oh, yes, Life of Christ by Giovanni Papini.

Papini isn't terribly good.

Jesus Christus by Karl Adam.

Professor at the University of Tübingen, no less.

Take this book. Can you come back Friday evening?

The day after tomorrow? But I won't finish it by then.

We should see each other regardless.

- Do you want to convert me? - Only you and the Lord can do that.

Then why are you lending me books?

Wouldn't you, in my position?

I don't know. But why do you want me to come back?

You never feel the need to exchange ideas with your peers? You brute!

That was mostly on Monday.

I don't know what got into me. Please forget about it.

No, no. It was rather amusing.

See you Friday.

He has the nature and manners of a militant.

Citizen-priest, comrade-abbot.

He must be acting that way to confuse me.

- Finished already? - Yes.

- You read it much too quickly. - Once I started, I couldn't stop.

From your Catholic perspective, am I damned if I go on living as an atheist?

No, my child, you're not damned. Even if you go on living as an atheist.

No salvation outside the Church, though, right?

That's the invisible Church. It surpasses the visible one by far.

- What's the invisible Church? - It's...

the humanity of goodwill.

What a mess. I never have the time to organise them.

People don't return books.

It's funny that I chanced upon you, isn't it?

It's providence.

I don't know why I'm the one choosing your books.

Come over here. Just take the ones you fancy.

Take it.

Let's see it.

I'm not sure I'm doing you a favour by lending you a book like that.

You're already enough of a hair-splitter.

But if that's what you want...

- That's all you're taking? - I have very little time.

You haven't told me what you thought of Karl Adam.

It's strong, it's original. I think I believed in God while I was reading it.

It's a good thing that didn't last!

How can you expect me to believe without proof?

It doesn't matter whether there's proof as you understand it.

Belief in God is not a cerebral certainty,

a science, as you seem to think.

Belief in God is the consent of every part of our being.

When you love someone, you love that person without proof.

Faith is the same. It's a moral certainty.

But...

Firstly, there are loads of religious books

offering would-be proof of God's existence.

No, they're merely guides that help us along part of the path.

There is always a precipice one must cross alone.

If there was proof, as you say, everyone would believe.

Belief itself would be unnecessary.

We'd understand. We'd know. We'd see.

It would no longer be down here, it would be Heaven.

I'm going to do a portrait of you.

That's you.

Now I'll draw God.

The dot wants to contain the circle. It's impossible, as you can see.

The dot's place is inside the circle.

- You can't reverse the roles. - What is the circle waiting for?

It's up to you to move around.

If God forced devotion upon us, we wouldn't be free.

The comparison you made just now between God and love,

it doesn't work at all.

You love another person without proof, yes.

But it's thanks to proof that you know that person exists.

In short, you keep wondering whether God exists or not.

God does not exist; he is existence itself.

You know, Jehovah said, "I am he who is."

It's kind of like saying, "X equals X."

After reading Jesus Christus, I wondered

if God's existence was a personal existence.

You think that humans have a personality?

Yes.

Surely that personality comes from a superior personality?

Not necessarily.

We could have progressed from earlier, undifferentiated beings.

Where would the force of that progress have come from?

Can a lesser being engender a greater being on its own?

That's all scholastic.

Perhaps it's good that the lesser being can engender the greater.

It's as though you believed in spontaneous generation.

Of course. You're giving me all these reasons to make me believe in God,

but an atheist would have opposing arguments that were just as strong.

Certainly. We should stop chattering on like this.

What good are words?

God is, above all else, an experimental,

individual reality, one that is different for every one of us,

and is incommunicable.

Incommunicable.

- That's dreadful. - Why?

What difference does it make to you if there is a God or not?

What do you mean, "What difference does it make?" That's all that matters.

I wanted to kill myself in philosophy class because of him.

What an idea!

The conversations with Morin one or more nights a week

were now part of my life.

I felt at home, as I never had anywhere before,

in that parlour with its air of a disused laundry room,

and a floor that shone like a mirror.

The Italians fought all night.

They refused to submit to German commands.

They didn't surrender until they'd exhausted their munitions.

We won't be seeing the feathered street artists any more.

When the Germans occupy a place, they carry out dramatic disinfections.

It's as though they wanted to prove

that they're different from their allies.

The deportations began.

I was summoned to the Kommandatur this morning because of my name.

Holdenberg. I'm Alsatian.

They asked me if I was Jewish, and I assured them I wasn't.

But how do you really know if you're Jewish or not?

It's when you're not baptised.

Protestants aren't baptised either.

Of course they are! Protestants receive baptism.

Jews don't have a nationality. They're not part of the French race.

- There is no French race. - Damn! What more do you need?

With all our inventors, our scholars. When France speaks, the world listens.

That evening,

I stayed behind at the office alone to correct some exercises.

The offices are closed, sir. If you'd like to see the director...

No, my dear colleague, I came to see you.

I just came to say goodbye. I'm leaving.

You're Mr Edelman.

Edelman? I don't know him any more.

No, Edelman has become Georges Mouchon.

The grey, once sad eyes of the old philosophy professor

now gleamed with the fever of adventure.

There were more and more roundups, so Sabine hid nearby,

but came back occasionally to answer our questions.

My passion had waned.

I told myself that Sabine's fear

was justified, touching even.

But I could love her only by defying death and torment.

Go home.

Curfew begins in 15 minutes.

Go home.

Go home.

We have to go home so they can bury the bodies.

As always, the day after these discreet burials...

This morning I heard the Germans were shooting hostages.

Fifteen for an officer, ten for a soldier.

Good riddance to them.

They're all Communists and Jews.

By the way, sir, with your permission...

I never answer the doorbell. It could be the Gestapo.

It could also be someone who needs you.

- Should I answer, then? - Of course.

It's strange how little trust you have in God.

Anton, Mina, what is it?

This afternoon,

we weren't at home.

The Gestapo came to arrest us.

What will you do?

Nothing, Barny. We'll leave.

No, Mina, that's not what I meant.

You'll sleep here tonight.

What about you, Barny?

I'll make up a bed in the kitchen.

But I've nothing for you to eat.

We brought what we needed for tonight.

I don't know what we'll do tomorrow.

Yes, the ration coupons are being distributed.

We're illegal now because we didn't apply

for a visa.

For fear of deportation, we've lost the right to our ration book.

We can't do without it.

There may be a way...

If you do exactly as I ask,

you should be able to get our coupons.

Tell me what to do and I'll do it.

Right.

Tomorrow, go...

I would never know why they had to flee.

But it gave me the courage I needed.

Thank you.

If this continues, I'll start believing in God.

I never stopped believing.

That's surprising in a Communist.

Yes, I know, but there's a war on.

Here, type this.

So, apparently you're hiding people.

What? I'm not that stupid.

Life's hard enough as it is.

My concierge, hearing voices,

must have told Christine's mother, also a concierge.

Lucienne, your husband's in the Resistance.

You've got room here.

Please let them hide here.

To hell with them! You can tell them that.

I'm not getting arrested for them!

I've got enough trouble with Pierre.

If anything happens to him,

how am I going to bring up my kid on my own?

I can't keep them. We've been spotted.

Their place is here. You're safe in the country.

Maybe so, but they're a pain.

They should go home.

They'd be arrested.

What do I care?

Serve them right.

They should've stayed in Russia or Poland.

I swear on my husband's grave and my daughter's life,

if you don't take them,

I'll report you to the tribunal I belong to.

Where did you see that, Barny?

At the cinema?

Yes,

and in reality.

Too bad. I'm not taking them.

Requiescat in pace.

Same old Barny!

I'll take your foreigners.

I was pulling your leg.

I'll send them over.

Barny!

Bacon!

When I got home,

I found them asleep on their suitcases.

Lucienne's expecting you. Hurry.

You disgust me.

And yet I'd give my life for you.

I can't take it any more. This has been going on too long.

If my husband doesn't escape, too bad for him.

She may be a concierge, but my mother agrees with me.

Here, take these to professor Dumas.

Yes, ma'am. Can you please give me the address?

No. Find it yourself, damn it!

That has to go out tonight.

Did you have servants in the old days?

She has a concierge complex, aggravated by marital deprivation.

What did you just say?

I can understand your anger, but not this senseless cruelty.

Who says it's easier to resist cruelty than anger?

I guess you didn't hear about the woman in your situation.

Aryan, dead Jewish husband.

Her two children were taken away by the Gestapo.

I'll insist that he wasn't France's father.

I'll make up an Aryan father. A friend of mine who won't deny it.

That hurt! I swear I saw stars.

That Barny. When she puts her mind to something...

One Sunday,

I decided to leave Dimitri in the care of the farmer my daughter was with.

Do you like that?

Tell me!

They're asking for papers.

They're doing what?

We'll go through the fields to see France, it'll be much nicer.

See those trees? We'll go down there and gather grass for the rabbits.

Help me.

Hello.

Hello, Mrs Barny.

This is Dimitri. He'll be staying with you. You'll have a little playmate.

Why aren't you being nice to him?

You know very well that my friend is Titi Serpolet.

He looks after five cows. Five!

Go on.

Why are your white shoes dyed black?

They weren't white any more, she got them all dirty.

You should've cleaned them, not dyed them black!

That's what she wanted.

- And why may I ask? - Because my daddy is dead.

- Good day, Mr Lathuile. - Good day, Mrs Barny.

What are you doing here?

There wasn't a trace of make-up on Christine's face.

The earrings were gone from her ears.

Are you out of make-up?

- No, I took it off. - Why?

I'm going to see my spiritual advisor.

- It's not Léon Morin, is it? - Yes, Father Morin.

- And what are you doing here? - I was going there, but you go ahead.

Wait, don't go!

It's funny that we ran into each other there.

When I went to see him for the first time, I thought,

"This is exactly what I need."

But he's not in your neighbourhood.

No, Danièle Holdenberg took me.

Yes, I remember.

Danièle told me that she went to see a priest from time to time.

I don't know why, but sometimes I just want to hit him.

- Are you and Danièle Catholic? - Not in the same way.

To her, religion's like the history of France.

And you?

It's different for me. It runs in my family's blood.

Did he say anything to you about me?

He said you were a funny girl.

- That's all? - I shouldn't repeat it.

He said, "She is closer to God than my parishioners."

Did Mrs Sangredin tell you?

About your antics? Yes, she did.

Unsure if he meant the slap or the caress on the stairs,

I needed to know.

I love a young woman.

Barely spoken, this dead truth came back to life.

I was gripped by the thought of Sabine.

Of course. All the men your age have left.

You're a man my age.

It's not the same. That's something else.

- A young girl. At your workplace? - Yes.

She's beautiful, intelligent. She runs everything.

She is like a beam of black light.

Her name is Sabine.

Why don't you bring her here?

She'd never come. I'm her subordinate.

Plus... I don't love her the way I used to.

You never did love her. You don't know what love is.

You've withdrawn into yourself.

I can't help it. Hearing that fills me with joy.

Without even knowing what it is, without hoping it's the Resistance.

I know that lots of people are dying a tragic death,

yet the more I think about it, the happier it makes me.

When sparks fly, I want to be there, too.

Simply for the pleasure of it.

I'm exactly the same way. We're all a pathetic bunch.

We like destruction, fighting.

Human nature is corrupt, but we shouldn't accept it.

This war has changed our way of life.

There are always people in my room.

- They sleep in my bed. - Who are they?

Jews, of course. You take one in, and others come.

I almost need a machine to issue all the baptism certificates.

I'm in trouble with the diocese.

Mrs Lathuile couldn't keep France, so I decided to take her back

until I found another family for her.

She went to school with them.

She came home beaming one day.

Mummy, today I did everything right, I understood all of it.

- All of what? - You know who did it?

- Who? - God.

- Who told you that? - The man!

- What man? - The priest.

- Where? - At catechism.

- Where did you go to catechism? - In the church.

You were in a church?

It wasn't me. Lucinda Trivoli took me there.

They gave me a little book.

At your age, they give you a little bread without a ration card.

Now I know God.

You didn't see him.

I can't see him, he doesn't have a body. But it doesn't matter.

Lucienne Bernhardt introduced me to Renne and Aimée Plantain,

two old maids living in the country who wanted to take in a child.

When I was young, someone told me I had beautiful hair.

A pity for a worker's daughter to have such pretty hair.

My boyfriend's mother didn't let us get married because of class differences.

He died of Spanish influenza, and then she couldn't have him, either.

Aimée!

- Can you take that off? - Why?

I need to look people in the eye. I hate all barriers.

Like the pillars in the church that prevent the faithful

from seeing the altar.

And the darkness, too. It's awful.

We should have huge, modern churches flooded with sunlight.

Religious skyscrapers.

No, but an all-glass cathedral would be good.

Someone's mistaking the presbytery for a bedsit.

Just put it on the billiard table.

Who is it?

I don't know them.

What does the priest say of your Vichyism?

He says he'll help me if they stand me against a wall after the liberation.

- What did you do with your hair? - It's him.

He threatened to stop giving me absolution if I kept dying my hair.

He knows exactly how much it costs. He must have a penitent hairdresser.

He recommended that I imitate the simplicity of Communist women.

I understood right away. By Communist women, he meant you.

You've completely Sovietised him. And you did a good job, too.

No, he's the one who Communised me.

I told him that my mother reproaches young Communists

for committing before maturity.

He replied, "They're right. They attain maturity through commitment."

A meadow stretched out before the Plantain sisters' home.

Every morning, new German recruits would do their training there.

Have you been good?

Yes.

Long have I loved you

Never will I forget you

Are you staying here?

No, we're being relieved. We're going to Russia.

I really wanted you to stay this time.

She's not too much trouble?

No, she's a very good little girl, and intelligent, too.

Does she work hard in school at least?

Yes. The teacher died, but they replaced her with someone else.

When you die, what do you want me to put on your gravestone?

Nothing expensive, because I need money to raise my children.

What's that? Who gave you that bracelet?

My friend Günther.

Your friend Günther?

Yes, a very nice German boy that I love.

Summer came.

The Germans decreed an 8pm curfew for an indefinite period.

I couldn't go to Morin and I had books to return.

I took a chance and went over there one Saturday morning.

Will there be holy sacrament this evening?

Here's the key, I'll join you upstairs.

I was shocked by the way he acted in front of strangers.

I 'd never seen anyone so careless of what people might say.

Here, I kept this for you.

You won't accept anything from others?

Yes, haven't I been accepting the gift of your time?

The gift? That's right, I've been giving you my time.

- Now eat this pear. - No, thank you, Father.

That's pride.

You're more bourgeois than the bourgeois you despise.

- Do you want it? - Yes.

- Take it. - No, thank you, Father.

Fine. I'll give it to someone less foolish. You have to be simple in life.

- Are you simple? - I don't know.

Do I give you the impression that I'm simple?

You don't give me any impression.

- And you, Father, are you simple? - Yes.

Yes, I think so.

- What do you think of me? - Nothing.

What do you mean "nothing"? That's not possible.

If I don't judge you, no one will ask me how worthy you are.

Oh, come on.

When I stand before you like this, what effect do I have on you?

You have the effect of an embryo.

You accuse me of pride.

- What's wrong with being proud? - It's a lack of self-respect.

On the contrary, it's a great deal of respect for oneself.

It's lying to oneself.

Lying? How so?

By assuming more importance than you have.

The angelus rang. He'd have to enact a scene from a Millet painting

or not answer the call of the church.

Appear ridiculous or inadequate.

Do you know the angelus?

The Angel declared to Mary that she would become the mother of God.

And she conceived of the Holy Spirit.

And the Word was made Flesh.

And dwelt among us. Holy mother of God, pray for us.

And if you were not above such things, you would reply,

"That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ."

You should paint your toenails.

- You need a husband. - Yes, well,

I make love with a piece of wood.

- You could hurt yourself. - I don't injure easily.

When there are gaps in the conversation,

are you giving the Holy Spirit time to whisper a reply?

My poor girl, you really like to string words together.

You haven't answered my question, Father.

Are your silences really asides with the Holy Spirit?

When I talked through my hat as a child, I was told,

"Go to the hayloft. You can talk to the walls."

Why do I behave so poorly with you?

It's how you are. It'll pass.

I'm leaving.

You're not taking a book today?

No hard feelings?

What's wrong, Sabine? What's happened?

My mother wrote that my brother's been arrested by the Gestapo.

She received a letter saying he'd be taken to Germany,

ending with the words, "Long live France."

They heard nothing more of him.

Sabine ran the offices as usual.

Her face became hollow, and lost almost all its beauty.

Type up three copies of this and have the director sign them.

Within a few weeks she had aged several years.

Excuse me.

Please come in, ma'am.

So what's going on, my little swamp frog?

I think that

what repulses me about Christianity is its self-interested character.

You force yourself to do this,

deprive yourself of doing that, just to go to Heaven.

When you sow seeds, don't you want them to grow?

That's what Heaven is, the grain rising.

Do you remember when our Lord spoke of this?

- Your Lord. - He's just as much yours as he is mine.

Not if I refuse to accept him.

You can refuse to accept that the world turns. It won't change much.

I've been unhappier than ever

since I came to talk to you about what interests me.

I can't help but read the books you lend me,

yet I can see that they're not good for me. They're killing me.

I'm tormented, hounded, persecuted.

I feel like I should never come back here,

but I can't pass up the chance to come.

We call that the work of grace.

At night I pondered.

Belief in God scales the universe down to a satisfactory level,

but my discussions with Morin are disconcerting.

I charge like a ram, only to find the obstacle gone.

Swept away by momentum, I fall and don't know where I am.

I lose myself for want of an adversary. Morin is flawless in my eyes.

A part of my attic was cluttered with junk.

I decided to spend Whit Monday cleaning it.

That's when disaster struck.

Father, I want to tell you something.

- I'm done for. - You're done for?

Yes, I converted. I'm at your command.

What happened to you?

Nothing.

I want to become Catholic. Again.

- Why? - I'm cornered, I surrender.

You're tired. You've been undernourished lately.

No, I'm not tired. And we just got potatoes.

Why do you want to convert?

I don't want to, I have to.

What does a conversion mean to you?

- Following Christ's precepts. - Which ones?

To always be poor,

love others,

do one's utmost for them.

Renounce oneself, one's interests,

pray to God, receive the sacraments.

To be received within the Church.

You should think about it

before making a decision that affects your entire life.

It's not a decision. I don't have a choice.

It seems like you don't have a choice. You're a little tense, excited.

No, I was very calm up in the attic, all by myself.

What happened in the attic?

Nothing at all. Quite the opposite. Everything was finished.

How's that?

Like the way the armoury blew up.

This girl has lost her mind.

I'm converting against my will.

If you're possessed, we'll have to exorcise you.

Father, you've tried, in every respect, to Christianise me,

yet now you discourage me from following your Lord.

Why do you want to follow him?

Because I'm not so sure that what he said was false.

You'll poison your existence. You'll ruin your life!

Yes, it's true. You're saying that to test me, obviously.

And I know that nothing worse has happened, or ever will happen, to me.

You never considered becoming Protestant?

They're often wonderful people.

Why are you mocking me right now?

I'm not mocking you, just being frank. All right, what's next?

I need to confess so I can take communion.

Do I have to go to the church in my parish?

No, you can come to Saint-Bernard.

Will you be the one who...

That'd be best since we know each other.

I hold confession Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday starting at 5:30pm.

And in the morning before mass.

I'll come tomorrow evening.

If you want. And if not, that's fine, too.

Now I've seen it all.

- Good day, Barny. - No.

- Why are you so overawed? - Vanity.

That'll pass, you'll see. It's nothing at all. Repeat after me.

Lord, illuminate my conscience,

that I may see all my trespasses against you

and atone for them through humble confession,

true contrition and sincere penitence.

Lord, illuminate my conscience, that I may see all my trespasses against you.

And atone for them through humble confession.

Do I absolutely have to repeat that?

Yes, but take your time. There's no rush.

- And atone for them... - Through humble confession.

Through humble confession, sincere contrition and true penitence.

Thy spirit is good, lead me into the land of uprightness.

Thy spirit is good, lead me into the land of uprightness.

Revive me in your fairness.

Revive me in your fairness.

Your hands are still pure, right?

No.

No, Father.

Your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit.

You should have more respect for it.

Do you find the human organism marvellous?

Yes.

Then you should not tarnish it.

- You'll no longer be sinful. - No.

Are you nice at work?

The others hate me because I converted.

- And do you like them? - I can't.

I love God, if he exists, because he is perfect and omnipotent. But them...

"if a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar."

It's in Saint John.

Anything else wrong?

- Yes. - What is it?

The first time I came here, I lied to myself when I said it was a mockery.

I feel like I've been acting for months, that I've been hiding, that I ran away.

That's called resistance to grace.

- Is that all? - Yes.

For those sins, simply say this once,

"Lord, let me love my neighbour as myself, out of love for you."

I was devastated by the tightness of that penitence.

You should start going to catechism.

I've been going for a long time.

- What? Why didn't you tell me? - You wouldn't have liked it.

- Why didn't the Plantains tell me? - They don't know.

- When do you go? - After school.

- Don't they worry when you're late? - I tell them I was held back.

I'm so glad you're back. I'm suffering terribly.

Why?

Imagine a snail torn from its shell, still alive.

Covered with wounds that it drags through the dirt and the pebbles.

The sun will dry the wounds.

How could you, who are capable of true friendship, be a collaborator?

It's the only way France will pull through.

Even if that was true,

even if the Resistance was doomed to failure,

even if collaboration was France's only means of survival,

you would not, as a Christian, have the right to accept those means.

And why not?

Because France is better off dead than living in a state of mortal sin.

France is not in mortal sin because it accepts collaboration as a lesser evil.

Yes, because it accepts the deportation and killing of innocent people.

Like Sabine's brother, for example. And thousands of others.

The Resistance draws retaliation, nothing more!

In other words, you, a Catholic,

consent to my daughter being deported so that yours can have her milk.

You think we should sacrifice our own people for nothing?

Deportees are your people, too.

The Yids, you mean?

Exactly.

- Our Lord is a Yid. - Yes.

What I want is to get married.

I'm making a trousseau with buttoned shirts for breastfeeding.

The worst part is, I'm always being followed by boys in the street.

Arlette, I'd like to introduce you to someone who may be able to help.

A priest with a particular interest in young people.

- Is he young? - Yes.

- How old is he? - The same age as me.

- When can we go? - How about tomorrow?

Hello. Please come in.

He's handsome.

After Arlette said it,

I realised that Morin was indeed handsome.

I asked myself, shadowed by worry,

if it was a sin to delight in the appearance of my confessor.

No, I assured myself, what harm could there be in that?

We learn in the Gospel that Jesus was handsome.

Beauty is a gift of God.

Thank you, Lord, for making your servant, Morin, a work of perfection.

...my brothers and me.

Arlette already seemed less flighty.

Morin had the ability to make all those that he welcomed more like him.

I would like to illuminate it.

I don't take communion often. It brings me no joy.

You think it brings me joy? You ask too much of communion.

I...

I have errands to run. Excuse me.

Did you see? The hotel Clarmont was blown up.

Didn't you see it? I thought it was on your way.

Yes, it is on my way.

You walked through the rubble without noticing it was gone?

No, I didn't notice.

Well, that's not good at all.

- I've always been absent-minded. - Yes, but this is going too far.

What does it matter? Why are you worrying about it?

Failing to notice that the Clarmont was blown up is not a sin.

Your head's too high up in the clouds.

On my way back, I crossed the square where the Clarmont had been.

My recent blindness troubled me.

I'm going to see Morin again next Saturday.

He lent me a book and asked me to summarise it for him.

When we parted, he said, "Goodbye, little butterfly!"

What book?

It's really hard to read! I don't understand a word of it.

It's called The Beautiful Risk of Faith. I'll never finish it.

I can't possibly go back unless I do.

Father, a friend of mine is divorcing and I think she needs you.

How's that?

She's giving moral support to five lovers.

Two in the Milice, one in the Resistance,

one in the black market and one in Germany.

She works at the bank and has very little time to serve

the Resistance, Vichy and Germany all at the same time.

She's having trouble managing her appointments,

and is trafficking gold, too.

I'd like to meet this interesting person.

Hello. I'd like you to meet my friend Marion Lamirale.

Come in.

You're missing an earring.

Yes, I forgot to put it back on after being on the telephone.

- How old are you? - Twenty-six too.

I thought so. We were in the same class.

So what do you do in life?

Lots of things.

Such as?

A divorce, for starters.

And why, may I ask?

He doesn't want me any more. There are good reasons for that.

The priest went to see Marion's husband.

- What for? - To ask him to take her back.

- Did he say yes? - What do you think?

The priest was lucky to get a civil welcome.

One thing is certain, Marion has a crush on the priest. Says he'll be hers.

Can you understand such a thing?

I can't. It wouldn't even cross my mind.

I couldn't overlook the fact that a priest is a consecrated man.

But sacrilege doesn't bother Marion.

To her, he's a man and she wants him.

Does she really think she can have him?

She's sure of it. She said she's never failed in that department.

You should become a country priest.

I'd be your maid.

There's an idea, except that priests' maids are supposed to be old and ugly.

Perhaps a few years from now.

I want to look at you with loving eyes.

Your eyes will never be loving to me.

- Because they're not allowed to be? - No.

No of fence, but your eyes aren't that pretty.

Not enough mascara? I'll use more next time.

What will it be like when you've put enough on?

You poor bird-brain.

Perhaps you'll have it sorted out by next time.

My dear child, Christ loves you madly.

You're among his favourites.

And I think Heaven was made especially for you.

Beloved God,

let me pray like Marion

and with Marion.

Marion of the gold, Marion of the five lovers, entered the confessional.

I saw Marion in Saint-Bernard. She confessed.

Yes, but it ends there. Never get your hopes up with her.

She left town yesterday with a new protector.

Do you mind hurrying up a bit?

Forgotten how to walk?

Last night someone in the bell tower shot at the hotel across the street.

It's a hotel that's been requisitioned by the militiamen.

They live inside with their families, on the verge of war.

Around 1am, someone shouted from the street, "Hey, priest!

"For crying out loud, come down here fast!"

I took my time getting down there. The bell tower was lit up.

We opened the church, climbed up there...

And the men shooting?

Vanished.

Father, I don't understand

how Jesus could have died forsaken by God.

What did you say?

He says before dying, "My God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

Not at all.

Jesus was a Jew and he died a Jew, reciting Psalm 22, a Jewish prayer.

Here.

"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

"Why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?"

And it ends with an homage to God.

"For dominion belongs to Jehovah and he rules over the nations."

Jehovah, the God of Jews and Christians.

Of course.

It's absurd that I have to remind myself that Jehovah is God the Father.

You're not the only one. Jesus didn't choose Psalm 22 by accident.

He chose it because it applies to him in particular.

He also said,

"They have pierced my hands and my feet.

"They divide my garments among them and cast lots for my clothing."

Don't forget that the Old Testament is the book of the Jews.

The one the Messiah lived by.

Jehovah chose Christ of flesh and blood for his earthly life,

thus giving himself youth.

He chose to die in the prime of his life.

God will never age because he is protected by that blood of youth.

I think that my irritation with old ladies

who repeat their Our Fathers mindlessly,

and with all the old men who stop the Church's progress

is a specifically Christian irritation.

Goodbye!

- Gilberte, how are you? - Fine.

- And Mrs Lathuile? - OK.

- Going to town? - Yes.

- Want to go together? - Let's go.

Going to see France on Sundays,

I would often meet Gilberte Lathuile going into town and we'd chat.

I met Gilberte Lathuile again.

What she does with the Germans is her business,

but now we have proof she's feeding them information.

Come the next raid, she'll be shot.

- Are you sure? - Yes. Pierre told me.

The next Sunday,

I found meeting Gilberte hard.

Hello, Gilberte.

I was afraid she could read her death in my eyes.

It was a nice day.

Yes. It was a nice day.

And you haven't many left. Poor soul.

I'm anxious all the time.

One word from me would save that girl's life.

Threats would make her break off all relations with the Germans.

I take communion every morning and I'm an accomplice to a crime.

To the murder of a young girl.

Why did your friend tell you what had been decided?

Because she couldn't keep quiet.

Did her husband need to tell her?

No.

- It isn't your concern. - But I could save a life.

- You want to make yourself important. - It's not that.

Well, maybe just a little.

But mostly it's the idea of murder by omission.

Even if you warned her, she probably couldn't escape.

She could leave the village.

It may have unknown consequences.

So I should continue playacting?

Keeping a confidence isn't playacting.

I must say nothing, do nothing?

It's hard, I know.

But I think that's your role in this story.

Sadly, there are many such stories right now.

The next Sunday, passing the Lathuiles' house,

I saw the shutters were closed

and had red writing on them.

A TRAITOR WHO SOLD HERSELF TO THE KRAUTS WAS SHOT HERE

- Do you know what happened? - No.

Everyone pretended not to know what had happened.

All I knew was that Gilberte's parents had fled.

You are not allowed to cross!

I didn't see it!

And suddenly, the atmosphere changed.

- What is this little boy doing here? - Leave me alone!

Not nice, not nice at all.

The shoes will return when the town is free

FREELY AVAILABLE

And one morning, the town woke up free.

The Germans left in the night.

The Iron Army did a moonlight flit.

- They'll shoot for sure. - Maybe not.

Have a seat.

We came to ask you to take your daughter back at once.

She's a destructive child and she's wearing us out.

You didn't have to come to town just for that. You should've told me.

I wanted to fetch her anyway.

We came to see the shorn women paraded, make the most of the day.

My bike was stolen, so I went to get France on foot.

I tried to cry, thinking he might be moved.

Does he want to kill you?

- My doll's broken! - No, no.

Are they Germans, too?

I can't come any more because my daughter is with me now.

I can't leave her alone.

- So we won't see each other any more? - No.

- What if I came to your home? - Thank you.

I can't say when exactly, but it'll be one of these evenings.

You little devil. Now settle down and go to sleep.

Good evening.

You're good at gymnastics.

Yes, we learn things at the seminary, even boxing.

Go on to bed now. You could catch cold.

I had never spoken to my daughter about him, nor about his likely visit.

I was very surprised to see France acting that way.

- The First Steps Toward Jesus. - Thank you.

If you were my daughter...

I'd like to be your daughter. Here, look.

I don't know if it's because of that book you brought,

but she's become unbearable.

When I discipline her, she says, "You see my mote and not your beam."

When I threatened her with Hell, she said,

"Children don't go to Hell, only big people."

I gave her a good spanking.

You're right to teach your daughter how to behave,

but don't go too far.

I received more than my share of thrashings as a child.

Half the time I went to bed without supper.

Why was your father so harsh?

Why was your father so strict?

It wasn't my father. He never touched me.

Who, then?

My mother.

Why did she hit you?

She'd hit me with a branch when I came home late from school.

On my calf, you know. I would grit my teeth.

- It wasn't your fault you were late. - Yes, it was.

We would scrap the whole way home from school.

All six kilometres.

She hit you for that?

I lied, too. I told a lot of lies.

Because you were afraid of her.

Did she also hit your sisters?

No, my sisters kept to the straight and narrow.

- Your mother was too harsh. - She meant well.

You didn't have a happy childhood, did you?

Of course I did. No need to make that face.

I didn't get thrashed every day or anything. What did you think?

What made your childhood a happy one?

The atmosphere. It was nice at home.

How was it at home?

We woke up at 6, we left at 7.

On Sundays my father went to look after the goats, taking newspapers with him.

My mother told me about the time my father saw a hare on his way to church.

He said, "I'm going back to the house to get my gun."

And then, "No, I might be late for mass if I do that."

When he walked by on his way back from church, the hare was still there.

He got his gun, shot it and it was his.

You don't resent your mother?

I used to resent her, yes.

Did you continue to resent her at the seminary?

I resented her until it didn't sting any more.

How old were you when you entered the seminary?

I joined the junior seminary when I was 12.

How is it that such a bad boy wanted to become a priest?

What does that have to do with it?

You become a priest so you can save souls, that's all.

Even a naughty boy can have an idea like that.

Your mother was harsher than most.

But you were a child like any other.

No, I was among the worst.

Once, I broke a cow's leg trying to get it to jump a fence.

I don't need to tell you that the owner took great care in tanning my hide.

It didn't cure you. You're still trying to get cattle to fly.

That's what I'm here for.

You're going to break another leg.

As long as it jumps.

Brethren, is it the cold that is making you numb?

I hope the sun will revive you a little.

There are those who pray the rosary during mass,

but it's not the time do so.

There are those who want to perform their devotion by a statue,

yet the holy sacrament is here,

amongst you, expecting you to be present and alive.

What's more, everyone leaves before the last Gospel.

Are you in that much of a hurry to leave your God, you Sunday Christians?

Brethren, let us not be like those disciples

who, by pressing around our Lord,

almost stifled him and prevented others from seeing,

or even approaching, him.

If you are merely Christian in name, you keep the hesitant at bay.

You strip them of their desire to come.

Each one of you must be an apostle in his own circle.

I also wanted to say, let us sing mass with more enthusiasm,

without faltering at the end.

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I am absolutely certain of two facts,

and they happen to be contradictory.

The priest is the most spiritually elevated man I've ever known.

And on Sunday, there isn't a shadow of a doubt

that he passed by me on purpose,

brushing his sleeve against me.

Can you imagine what state that put me in?

Yes, I've noticed. He does things like that sometimes.

No wonder he gets an earful at the diocese.

You think he does that to be a tease? That he's just playing around?

That must be what they call the glorious freedom of God's children.

"Love and do what you will." But it destroys me.

He does it to stimulate us. But it's dangerous.

He's not afraid, no more so than he is of anything else.

It was night time.

Forgive me, Lord.

Govern my dreams.

Do not let me trespass, even in sleep.

Good evening.

This is for you, for when the power goes out.

It's a funeral candle.

- What were you doing? - Chopping wood.

- I'll chop some for you. - No, you don't have to.

Give me that. Watch out.

There.

Nice swing.

Do you have any wire?

Would you marry me if you were a Protestant pastor?

Of course.

No, I'm asking you seriously.

I need to know.

If you were not a priest, would you take me as your wife?

In one single move, the hand that had given me everything took it all away.

I didn't see him again for a long time.

I was walking along the top of the hill one Sunday,

high above the town with its red and pink roofs.

I couldn't take my eyes off of a bell tower.

I thought he must be there at that moment.

And since it was time for Vespers, he must be singing.

Good evening. I brought you some books for Danièle.

Christine said you'd be going to the sanatorium.

There's one for you, too.

Traditional dogmatism and empiriocriticism.

It's terribly complex. I don't think I'll understand it.

Yes, you will.

You never struck me as being a complete idiot.

Traditional dogmatism. Do you understand that? Yes? Good.

And empiriocriticism? No?

Empiriocriticism is a critical doctrine

based on empiricism.

That is, on the experience considered to be,

more or less, the sole source of knowledge.

Hello?

Empiriocriticism therefore means

the limits of the experience...

It's warm.

Here, look.

God,

grant my wish one time.

Just one time.

And blessed be the eternal torment that follows.

Come here.

You're not Miss Sabine right now. Well done, it's better already.

Look at people when they talk to you.

If only you summoned God the way you summon evil. That is prayer.

You won't come any more.

Of course I will. Why wouldn't I?

I'd miss discussing hypostasis with you.

- You're going to have to confess. - No.

Say that to someone?

You'd be saying it to me, and since I already know...

To you?

Confessing is a chore for me as well. I still go, often even.

You go often, and yet you never sin.

You accuse yourself of the sins of others.

Some avoid punishment.

You'll come this evening, right?

From 5:30 onwards, I'll wait for you.

My daughter, after school...

Bring her. I'll take her confession, too.

See you later.

My soul felt like a brothel.

Keep your coat on, we're going to confession.

- What sins did you commit? - That's none of your business.

I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.

- Help me, Father. - You don't need it.

I'm listening.

I almost...

I said...

I don't know what you would call what I did.

You're the dead branch right now.

- Know what happens to dead branches? - Yes.

- What? - They're cut down.

- And once they're cut, what next? - They're burned.

Yes. I'm listening.

I...

I tried to tempt...

Please finish your sentences.

I wanted to lead a priest to break his vows.

I wanted to break the ninth commandment.

There.

Visit Danièle tomorrow. Try to do some good with your visit.

You'll do each other good.

As penitence, read a page of that book I lent you every evening.

Now go wholly in peace.

I went almost in peace.

I'm going to preach the Gospel to the nations of the Earth.

- Or rather to local villages. - How's that?

I'm leaving Saint-Bernard for a small village.

But since the other villages in the region don't have a priest, either,

I'll visit them in turn.

There'll be two of us, and two young girls to help us in another village.

It's called a mission. France has become a mission country.

I'm not thrilled about going there.

Why not?

In the country, before you can talk about serious matters,

you have to talk about rabbits and pigs first.

And I like parish life, when it's running smoothly.

It won't be smooth over there.

The villages are divided by politics.

Then again, those people have been without a priest for so long,

they're completely de-Christianised,

so there's no deviation. It's almost virgin territory.

But it will take generations before we accomplish anything.

- What are you doing? - Hey, there.

Watch out for those apples. They might be rotten.

I wouldn't mind, if I knew what you were saying.

What do you want to know so badly?

What did God do before creating the world?

- Did he do nothing? - No.

- So he was bored? - Perhaps. I don't know.

He made the world through love.

Why don't you ask him what he did before?

No one can know those things.

- Not even you? - No more than anyone else.

- So we'll never know? - We'll know when we're dead.

I want to be dead.

You can go to bed while you wait.

And if you get up again or do something silly,

I'll be the one to box your ears. You'll see.

- I want a prayer that doesn't exist. - A prayer that doesn't exist?

Yes, a prayer that no one knows,

so I'm not always saying the same thing to God. It's not nice.

We'll do that for you.

It's not exactly a prayer for a little girl, but I'll say it anyway.

"Lord, give me what you have left.

"Give me what no one ever asks you for.

"I am not asking you for rest nor calm,

"neither of the soul nor of the body.

"Lord, you are asked for those things so often that you must not have any left.

"Lord, give me what you have left.

"Give me what people turn down.

"Give me what the others don't want.

"And give me courage and strength as well.

"You are the only one who can give us what we cannot obtain for ourselves."

The irony of God is admirable.

I passionately hoped that this man would come into this room.

And here he is. Not traitorous and complicit as I'd hoped,

but pious and beautiful.

Putting my child, his flock, to bed with a poem.

Thank You, Lord, for loving him more than I do.

For doing more than I ever asked of you. Thank you for your sympathy.

The office moved back to Paris, and I left around the same time as Morin.

He said he'd come to bid me farewell, but the days passed and I wondered,

with feelings of anguish mixed with acceptance,

if he hadn't already left.

The priest is leaving tomorrow. He wants you to go and see him.

Good evening.

We're setting sail.

There it was, his only possession.

I don't have any socks.

Can I help you finish packing?

Thank you, but that's everything.

All I have to do is close up my rucksack. Tomorrow morning.

Is the piano there already?

No, it was a rental. They picked it up. I won't have time to play there.

That's sad.

No, I'll just put some holes in a reed.

I'll be going now.

Thank you for everything.

You don't have any questions to ask me on the last night?

I have questions to last me a lifetime, so I'd better keep quiet.

Wipe the chair with that cloth. Sit down.

And now, what's the song of the day?

It's nothing, just a minor point.

I don't understand. You said the Jansenists were heretics.

What about the miracle of the holy thornbush?

Why wouldn't God work miracles for heretics?

You think he loves them any less than the others?

You're the one who led me to believe that God was Catholic.

We call it universal Catholicism in our temporal language.

But that doesn't stop him from being many other things as well.

You know what our Lord said?

"In my Father's house are many mansions."

Contradictory mansions?

Perhaps, but the contradictions are mostly in our minds.

This time I'm leaving for real.

See you.

"See you." It's a figure of speech.

Yes, we'll see each other again.

In the other world, not this one.

God bless you.