All language subtitles for Tous.les.soleils.2011.ENGLiSH.dTV.XViD

ALL THE SUNS

Well? Reactions? Comments?

- Yes? Go on.
- The music never varies.

The rhythm seems to remain constant
as if only the lyrics are important.

I disagree with you.

I get the sense
that the rhythm speeds up,

drawing us into something
we can't get out of.

You're both right.

In tarantella the rhythm helps
to eliminate the lovesickness,

invasiveness and sadness
caused by the spider's venom.

The rhythm puts the patient
in a sort of trance.

And the voice forms a link
between the human world

and the dark forces
that provide the cure.

I realise that sounds
a bit highbrow.

Just remember that these songs
stem from an ancient tradition.

They were sung in the streets.

Hence the interjections
like "Oi, oi, oi!"

The cries you hear in places.
"Hey!" and so on.

If you cover the class this term
Lagarde can take over in the autumn.

As head of department I can't
leave them without a teacher.

- When will Kriakine be back?
- What do I know?

His specialist subject is
sick leave, not religious music.

As soon as one sick note expires,
he sends in another one.

- That's yours.
- Sorry.

- We'll discuss this later.
- Yes.

Hello?

Yes, speaking.

Yes.

What?

Don't tell your daughter
but I think it's great.

Who says young people
have no convictions?

You think 15-year-olds demonstrating
for a free Tibet is great?

Don't you care about Tibet?

It's 10,000 km away
so it's got nothing to do with you?

Skiving off school to throw stones
at riot policemen is not OK.

Let me tell you something,
Mr Reggazzoni.

It is the demonstrators' role
to throw stones

and the CRS'
to take them on the chin.

My brother-in-law is in the CRS.

It upsets him
if he gets hit on the helmet.

It makes him feel invisible.

He feels useless and unloved.

Funny, isn't it?

What will she be like at 16?

Burning cars at Christmas
is a local custom.

At 20 she'll be robbing banks
to give money to the poor,

blowing up the cathedral
because God has let people down.

- Stop it, Dad.
- Who do you think you are?

Who does she think she is,
taking the law into her hands?

You can't bring down
the regime in Beijing!

Irina, sweetheart.
Come back here.

Come back into the kitchen.

Just because you have
no political conscience!

I'd keep quiet if I were you.

You put ideas into her head.

That's enough now.
Do you understand?

Or I'll throw you out

and you can change the world
sleeping under bridges.

- You'll wake old mother Bisheim.
- Don't change the subject.

Do you think you're scaring me
with your bourgeois threats?

You like having
a bourgeois brother.

Where would you be without me?

What would you do?

You've never done
a day's work in your life.

I give in.

You gave in long ago.

Nice one. Well done.

Congratulations.
I'm impressed.

- Shut up, you bloody Eyeties!
- What did I tell you? Here.

- No.
- Taste it.

That's good.

Dinner's ready.

- He's always on at me.
- It's not easy for him, you know.

It's normal for a father to worry.

- I'm not a kid any more.
- You make me laugh.

You're hardly a grandmother either.

Pass me a cloth, please.
Not that one, the other one.

He'd be more mellow
if he had a girlfriend.

He'd focus on her.
It would give us a breather.

It's never lasted
with the few girlfriends he has had.

We never even got
to meet any of them.

But this is urgent.

We can't find one for him.

Tell me, did you piss the cops off
good and proper?

And did you throw the stones
like I showed you?

- Yes.
- You're a good student.

"There was something unbearable
about them.

"Stres looked away first.

"I'm sorry to have to ask you this,
he said.

"But it's very important.

"Believe me, Doruntine,

"this is important for you,
for your mother, for all of us.

"Did you see the face of the man
who brought you back?"

Don't you like it?

You could read me the phonebook
and I'd be happy.

You have such a beautiful voice.

Ismail Kadare is better
than the phonebook.

Talk to me about the outside world,
about the city.

The city?

In the early morning
it smells of mist and wet leaves,

of the countryside.

But by midday
everything is on fire,

as if all the streets
were flooded with sunlight.

People sit outside the caf�s and
children run in the parks, smiling.

How long have you
been coming here?

Almost a year.

We've got through
quite a few pages.

You're my longest-standing listener.
I'm growing a bit tired of you.

It's time you went home.

Yes.

You are an artist, Mr Luigi.

- A true artist.
- They're nothing special.

Yes, but they're so well painted.

Painting speaks
to the entire human race.

No language barriers,
frontiers or lies.

- That's true.
- Of course it's true.

Think of all the lies
you carry in your bag,

all those letters
bringing discord, hatred

or perhaps ruin.

But there are love letters too.

You must be joking.
No one writes love letters now.

It's all emails, text messages
and global communication.

That's why next to this apple,
the symbol of original sin,

I have painted a mobile phone.

It represents our world
of constant surveillance,

faceless exchanges
and perpetual blah blah blah.

No, in your bag
you will find no love,

only bills, redundancy letters,
bailiff's notices, junk mail.

It's all crap
and it should be torn up.

- I've never given it much thought.
- More coffee?

Yes.

We need a new boiler.

Wood-fuelled boilers cost
a lot more than gas boilers.

But they are more
environmentally friendly.

- Not to start with.
- What about geothermal energy?

Don't be ridiculous.
It costs an arm and a leg.

And we'd need to dig up
the surrounding area.

Can't we get tax relief
on a wood-fuelled boiler?

We bought the cottage together
so how would that work?

- Hello, everyone.
- Hi.

I'm not even sure
there's any drink left.

- You've finished work early.
- It's the Sabbath.

I never work on the Sabbath.
You should know that by now.

- But you do drink.
- Drinking's allowed.

You know nothing
about Judaism.

Everyone, this is Ejidija.

- Egidija.
- Egidija. She's Lithuanian.

She's new in Strasbourg
so don't frighten her away.

This is Jean-Paul.

He's a surgeon,
part-time, as you just heard.

Malou has put up with him for...
How long is it now?

- 21 years.
- She seems happy enough.

Francette, Dieter's wife.

And Alessandro who is single
should you have any girlfriends.

We've given up
trying to marry him off.

- What do you think of the wine?
- Dieter, this is Egidija.

- Egidija.
- Pleased to meet you.

- Can I get you a drink?
- I don't drink wine, thank you.

You don't drink wine?

Never?

Never.

Right, well... Who's coming
to Les Essarts on Sunday?

- I'm going next weekend instead.
- We can take Irina if you like.

I'll let you know.

Do you really not drink wine?

- Where does this No�mie live?
- Near the orangery.

All right, then.

But no going out.
You stay at her house.

- And don't be late for school.
- I won't. Don't worry.

What has he written here?

- Kitchen towels.
- What's wrong with J-cloths?

You know he hates brand names.

Right, get four rolls.

And some washing-up liquid.

And two bottles of bleach.

- What are you doing?
- You need some new knickers.

These are nice.

- Not vulgar, good quality.
- Do you expect me to wear these?

- Do you prefer the pony?
- Dad, I'm 15.

15, not eight.
You shouldn't be buying me knickers.

- Who's going to buy them then?
- Me. I don't buy your boxer shorts.

- My mum bought mine till I was 30.
- You're embarrassing me.

Irina?

Irina!

- Alessandro, you were late again.
- I know, I'm sorry.

Sorry, everyone.

Let's take a break.
It will do us all good.

Sorry.

- Is something wrong today?
- I'm just a bit tired.

I'm having a hard time with Irina.

Being a single dad...

You've chosen to be single.

She never had a mother.
I want her to have a father.

Can't you look after yourself
a bit too?

Things may not have worked out
between us a few years ago

but that's no reason to think
it won't work with someone else.

Do you know a good psychologist?

- Bye, then.
- Aren't you coming?

Make up your mind.
I thought I was cramping your style.

You might at least come
and say hello to her mother.

All right, but just a quick hello.

Here they are at last.

- Come in.
- No, I'm parked on a yellow line.

The police never come down here.

Come in for a few minutes.

- Join me for a glass of fizz.
- Not at this time of day.

Who cares
what time of day it is?

Keep the noise down, girls!
They have such energy at that age,

such a zest for life.

So you're Irina's dad.

No�mie is obsessed with her.

Irina this, Irina that.

No�mie tells me
you're a widower.

- I am indeed.
- How awful. When did it happen?

Five months after Irina was born,
a car accident.

A long time ago, then.
So you've had time to...

I mean, to...

Wretched car!

I'm afraid I've really got to go.

- And you teach?
- The history of baroque music.

I love rock music,
Johnny Hallyday...

No, not rock, baroque.
It's a bit earlier.

I love that too.
I'm one of life's enthusiasts.

I love going out
for dinner with friends.

- Do you do any sport?
- I go running at weekends.

- I'm sorry, I must go.
- Where? In the woods?

- In the woods.
- Me too.

Oh, God!

See you soon.

Come back any time.

Sure.

Never again.

I don't believe it!

35 euros for that mad cow!

- I'm not going.
- You are.

- I'm not going.
- Look, I decide, OK?

I'll drag you there if I have to.

- No.
- Yes. It will do you good.

It's you who needs a shrink.

Me?

Look at yourself.
Look at him!

I have a father
who lives with a dead woman

and an uncle who spends his life
watching sluts on TV.

Language!

- You're an embarrassment.
- Change your tone!

My girlfriends think
you're a couple of poofs!

You'll pay for that.

Irina!

I just slapped her.

I'm a crap dad. I slapped her.

Aren't you sick of spending time
with these sluts?

What did I do?
What's got into you?

You can love someone with
a different taste in books, music...

- I disagree.
- Shut up, I'm speaking.

...and scenery,

but you can't love someone
who doesn't like wine.

White sausage. Help yourselves.
Do you get vineyards in Lithuania?

That's not the point.

A colleague from Reykjavik
drinks a bottle of red every night

and there are no grapes
in Iceland as far as I know.

True, but your little Lithuanian,
wine or no wine, was hot stuff.

What's got into you, Dieter?

What? It's true.
Jean-Paul said so too.

- You said that?
- What did I say?

- Shall we go to the barn?
- Yes.

Do you want them whole
or cut up?

- I want two.
- Just take one for now.

Will you shut up, Siddhartha?
Shut up!

Your dog is aptly named.
She's so calm and serene.

It's not her fault. She's on heat.
You've never been on heat.

- Mum, Dad!
- Camille!

The roof caved in.
Everything collapsed.

Are you OK?

You're not hurt, are you?
Are you sure?

- Are you OK?
- Bloody hell!

Don't go near it.

No, stay here.

Shit!

I told you we needed
to renew those rotten beams!

- Gerhard said they were OK.
- Gerhard is a chef.

What does he know about beams?
What the hell does he know?

What the hell do you know?

Calm down.

- It could have killed them!
- No one died. It's just a roof.

Will you shut up, Siddhartha?

- The sausages will be burnt.
- Yes, come on.

Your sausages?

You guys are unbelievable!

Unbelievable!

Mr Bertaud?

Hello.

I'm Alessandro Reggazzoni
from Connecting With Words.

How are you doing?

May I?

I've come to read to you,
Mr Bertaud.

I've brought various books.

You can tell me what you like,
all right?

It's hot in here.
Aren't you hot?

Are you all right?
Do you want a glass of water?

If you like, I'll start
with a writer from my region,

northern Venetia.

His name is Mario Rigoni Stern.

All his books are
about war and memory.

Many of them
are set in the mountains.

This one's called
January Snow.

"He leant on the sledge
with his right arm.

"He had tucked his left arm
into the front of his coat.

"When the bullet went through him

"he had felt a sharp pain,
as if he'd been hit by a stone..."

Yes, Mr Bertaud?

Do you have any erotic fiction?

No, not with me. Sorry.

- She's just dropped off.
- Hello, Yasmina.

Hello.

She was in a lot of pain last night.

Tell I her I came by.

- I'll be back on Thursday.
- Right.

You look a bit downcast.

We signed the divorce papers
last night.

I'm a free woman now.

Or a lost one,
depending on how you look at it.

It doesn't work.

There's dust everywhere.

L'Express,

5 July 2006.

Le Point, 13 November 2008.

Free papers.

Marie Claire, April 2000.

- Irina Reggazzoni.
- That's me. I mean, it's us.

Or rather, it's her.
She's my daughter.

We seem to be growing apart.
She challenges everything I say.

Why I try to explain things to her,
she clams up.

The trouble is, physically
she's growing up so quickly

but I know she's still a child,

a child in a woman's body.

- A woman?
- Yes. Look at her.

What do you think, Irina?

Right.

Can you leave us
for a moment, please?

There.

I'm not convinced
your daughter needs me.

But you yourself might want
to see one of my colleagues.

What?

Puberty can sometimes disturb
the parents more than the children.

Are you joking?

Irina is a 15-year-old
with the body of a 12-year-old.

- You still think of her as a baby.
- What?

She seems both intellectually
and emotionally mature for her age.

You're the one with the problems,
not her.

Nonsense.

This is nonsense.

I'm not taking advice
from someone

whose ideas are as outdated as
the magazines in her waiting room.

What a nerve!

Hello, gorgeous.

- Hi, Uncle. What are you up to?
- Storing them.

- They're all of the same thing.
- So?

- Have you ever tried selling them?
- I don't want to.

This guy from Zurich
wants to buy the lot.

- He saw one at Jean-Paul's.
- And?

He sends me letters
but I don't read them.

There's your dad.

Have a good weekend.

Don't you like it?
It's for your age group, isn't it?

Hey, I'm talking to you.

Answer me, Irina.

And say what?
That you like moronic songs?

What?

Hello, darling.

- All right?
- You look beautiful.

- Hello, darling.
- Hi.

- Give me your bag.
- Will you stay to lunch?

I can't. I've got too much work.
I must go home.

- But you'll stay a few minutes?
- Yes.

How are you?

- So-so.
- Irina or you?

Both of us.

He can't help it.

He's pleased to see you
but it brings back memories.

I thought that over time...

Time changes nothing.

Time...

Time is the excuse we make for ourselves.

When are you picking her up?

Sunday.

Is seven o'clock OK?

I'll make you a nice tart.

Lovely.

Thank you.

Sandro?

Why are you hurting yourself.

I just found this tape.

You find your tape every month.

I loved Louise too but you can't
stay like this until you die.

What do you mean, "like this"?

Alone.

- You're alone too.
- That's different. I'm a fighter.

Fighters are always alone.

Che never married.

- He never married?
- Never.

- Are you sure?
- No.

What do you want?

For us to stay together
like two old fools

after Irina leaves home?

Look how tiny she was.

I'd like to go somewhere else.
It's a tiny village.

He's got his childhood friends
but I've got no friends there.

And they don't even speak Italian.
It's a sort of dialect.

Like Alsatian.
I don't understand it.

It's important for him.

Yes, but still...

- You have her gestures.
- What are you talking about?

What you just did with your hair.

Louise used to do that.

What is it?
Does me saying that bother you?

Don't you like me
talking about your mother?

I have no memory of her
but I'm never allowed to forget her.

Do you realise
what you're saying?

It's just, I need to live my life
and this is stifling me.

- Where shall I put the beast?
- You know full well.

There, near the sink.

There you are.
I've been looking for you.

- Good morning.
- I wish.

Try to be a bit stricter
in your second-year orals.

- I try to be fair.
- That's what you think.

Your average is always higher
than your colleagues'.

We waste valuable time
having to moderate the results.

I'm relying on you.

You wouldn't be betraying anyone,
Alessandro.

It's not a question of betrayal.
It's more a question of...

It's a question of place.

Louise is still out there
somewhere.

It's as if...
as if she was waiting for me.

Do you like her waiting for you?

I think so.

You know, Agathe,

I can tell you this.

I've had women in my life
from time to time.

But I feel nothing.
It's meaningless.

The dead are stronger than us.

They have their whole lives
ahead of them.

It's worse
when people are simply not around.

They haunt us
more than the dead.

Why do you say that?

Anyway,

it's immoral to give up
on love at your age.

I won't allow it, Alessandro.

- Did you see how he looked at you?
- At you, you mean.

- Don't talk nonsense.
- Look.

- He's ugly anyway.
- Ugly?

You need your eyes tested.

- Is he new?
- He's been here two weeks.

He's quite friendly
with Juju and Bouzou.

- Sonia's boyfriend is 30, you know.
- No way!

I swear. She found him
on an internet dating site

for old folk who have lost
their pulling power.

But she's our age.
That's gross.

And she's so full of herself.

- See? What did I tell you?
- It's you he's looking at.

Is that gnocchi I can smell?

Aristotle and his cronies
can say what they like.

There is nothing like smoking.

It's the people's passion.
It makes life worth living.

- What's got into him?
- As I said,

Aristotle can say what he likes.
There's nothing like smoking.

Sganarelle, Act 1, Scene 1.

Moli�re's Dom Juan.
What do you think, Irina?

We haven't studied it yet.

They haven't studied it yet.

What about this?
Have you studied this?

Where did you find it?

In your things.
In her room.

You went through my things?

I refuse to sit back and watch you
pave the way for lung cancer at 15.

It's not mine.

- Liar.
- It's my friend's.

Who do you take me for?
Did you see that?

Her parents don't know
she smokes.

And you expect me to believe that?

Why does he never believe me?

I'm sick of it.

What?

Repent, blackguard!

Repent.

- Mozart, Don Giovanni.
- I know.

The commander, final act.

Irina!

Eat your uncle's gnocchi.
At least he still loves you.

"He moved his hands
closer to her chest.

"Then he felt Jennifer
arch backwards

"and her two breasts,
crowned with plump brown nipples,

"hard and taut like stings,

"swell up once more."

"As he passed his tongue
over her wet lips

"she slowly spread her legs.

"She rolled her eyes

"and her brow was covered
in a fine sweat."

- Mr Luigi Reggazzoni?
- Yes.

Sylvaine Anspak.
I phoned yesterday.

Oh, yes.

Am I disturbing you?
Were you in the bathroom?

- Why do you say that?
- Can I come in, then?

- Of course. Please do.
- Thank you.

How long have you been in France?

- For years.
- Years?

And you're only applying now?

In the nationality box
you put "stateless",

but which country are you from?

- A country which no longer exists.
- But which one?

- Italy.
- Wait...

I thought you'd taken a false name
but you really are Italian?

- I was.
- Look...

Be serious. Italians can't apply
for political asylum.

- Why not?
- Italy is a democracy.

A democracy? A democracy!

You call that a democracy?

A state run by an erotomaniac
who's had a face-lift and implants

and who controls
the media and the economy.

Listen, there are hundreds of people
in a truly desperate situation.

- I don't have time for this.
- I'm desperate.

I live in penury,
awaiting his downfall.

I refuse to speak my language
which he has sullied.

I live off memories and dreams.

- It's hardly paradise.
- Goodbye, Mr Reggazzoni.

I ought to charge you
with making a false application.

That's it, leave.
Go and support the dictators.

You're doing a great job.

Nice work!

- Hi.
- Hi.

Do you mind if I walk with you?

- I live near you, you know.
- Really?

27 rue Merci�re.
We've just moved in.

- Are you in Year 10?
- Yes. You too?

- What's your name?
- Aur�lien.

What's that photo?

Christmas two years ago.

- Was he drunk?
- Just a bit tipsy.

Crop it a bit.

That's better.

Cut a bit more off his chest.

- Is that OK?
- Yes.

What shall we write?

I think we should put teacher.

It sounds reassuring,
but vague.

And available.

So they don't think he's married.

- Can we put sporty?
- Sporty, of course.

And a good dancer.
Women like that.

- I've never seen him dance.
- There's lots you don't know.

Give me a few moments.

There. What do you say to that?

- Weaned? That's for animals.
- Are you sure?

Yes.

And I don't like the end much.

We don't want every cow in Alsace
replying to the ad.

Let's see.

Talk to me
about Vivaldi's religious music.

Religious music.

Vivaldi was a priest.

He was a man of the church.

He composed lots of works,

lots of pieces of music
for the church,

for churches in general.

For example?

You don't know.

- L'Estro Armonico.
- No.

Have you heard of a masterpiece
called Juditha Triumphans?

Right. That will be all.

There.

There's no need to get so upset.

I'm sorry.
It's just that I've worked so hard.

You must admit
you don't know very much.

I just drew a blank.

I work late every night in a bar
to pay for my studies.

My parents have thrown me out.

If I fail again this year
I've had it.

Come on. It wasn't that bad.

- There.
- But...

Did I pass?

No, you didn't pass.

I've had it, then.

I needed to pass this
to get my module.

I'm done for.

Thanks all the same.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

No!

I don't believe it!

No, no, no, no!

I don't believe it!

He came into my room
and raped me.

Every night!

- What's this?
- Burnt bank notes.

I know that
but did you burn them?

Yes.

You did?

- Are you mad? Where are they from?
- You're in my way.

I'm in your way?
Really? Watch this.

- Stop annoying me.
- Where are they from?

From the Swiss dealer.
He's trying to cajole me.

The Swiss dealer?
And this isn't the first time?

How many more have you burnt?

I don't know, three or four.

- Four?
- Maybe seven or eight.

Are you out of your mind?

I'm busting a gut for everyone here.

Meanwhile, you're burning money?

I'm speaking to you.

I'm telling you,
it's Swiss money, dirty money.

Luigi!

Don't give me lessons in morality
when you do nothing all day!

Burning money!
I'll have you locked up for that.

I do nothing?

You sit on your fat arse
and eat my cooking.

And housework doesn't do itself.

Are your trousers and shirts
self-cleaning?

Keep your voice down!

To hell with her!
To hell with you, you old bag!

The older you get,
the crazier you become.

Do you think
money grows on trees?

Couldn't you sell
these bloody paintings?

What would I have left?
Nothing. They're for Irina.

She doesn't want your daubs.

If some Swiss guy is mad enough
to want to buy them

I'll call him right away.

Do that and I'll jump. You'll have
my death on your conscience.

Go on, make a fool of yourself.

Jump from a first-floor window?
Don't make me laugh!

"A snow-covered garden,

"like a step covered
with its own footprint.

"The breath of a warm living animal
beside the willow tree.

"The cherry blossom
reaches for the moon.

"The young girl murmurs."

Do you remember reading me
those fat novels at the start?

Then the novels got thinner.

Then it was novellas
or prose poems.

And now it's haiku.

Soon there'll be nothing.

I don't want
to tire you out, Agathe.

I'll think of you.

I'll think of you too.

I never thought
it would come to this.

Really.

When he brings them back
on Sundays

he drops them off downstairs.

He sounds the horn
and I go down and get them.

He doesn't even wait
for me to come to the door.

He leaves like a thief in the night.

Can you imagine?

Hello.

- Everything OK?
- Yes.

I wanted to say,

if ever...

I mean...

When Agathe...

You know what I mean.

Could you let me know?

- Of course.
- Thank you.

- We've got time.
- Do you think so?

He's warming up
before the rehearsal.

He's got three messages.

"Hello, my name is Virginie.

"I'd love to get to know you.
Click on this link."

- Shall I click on it?
- Yes, hurry up.

No, shut your eyes.

Unbelievable.
These women are crazy.

Shall I click on the second one?
Don't look.

This one's OK.

"I read your ad.

"If you're a non-smoker,
sober, catholic, conservative..."

- Forget it.
- Yes.

What about the last one.

"Our paths often cross
but we rarely meet.

"Such a pity.
We're watching one another.

"Who will make the first move?"

- Is it someone who knows him?
- Frisk me.

- It's "search me", not "frisk me"!
- Whatever.

At any rate, she's interested.

Shall we reply?

Yes.

Dear Lover Girl...

Dear Lover Girl...

What a mess.

You poor things.

Right, well...

It's just as I was saying inside.

It's a big job.
Everything needs to come down.

As for your tiles,
they've had it.

The remaining beams,
the lathwork, the zinc,

the works.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye, Mr Gatheim.

That's some accent you've got.

- You're not from round here.
- No.

I say...

I hope you got this hovel cheap.

- What makes you say that?
- Nothing. I'm just saying.

Right. I'll be seeing you.

What a prat!

Another one.

Here are the others.

- Well?
- Hi. How's it going?

Are you OK?

- This is Eveline.
- Nice to meet you.

Hi, guys.

Jean-Paul, this is Eveline.

- Hello.
- Lovely to meet you.

Cake, Eveline?

Oh, no. I've put on 3kg
since I moved to Alsace.

- Soon we'll be rolling you along.
- You'll be what?

- Rolling you along, like a barrel.
- So you think I'm fat?

No, you're perfect like that.

Do you call that a slice?

You can cut it next time.
Hey, that's my TV guide!

- Don't you want the fire lit?
- I haven't read it.

I love this house.
When did you buy it?

A year and a half ago.

These four mugs
signed the deeds.

It's a lovely house,
despite the state it's in.

- The wonders of auto-suggestion.
- How about a toast?

- To what?
- Anything.

- To the roof.
- Please!

To our rotten weekends.

To Eveline, Fernando's new girl.

- There.
- Why "new"?

Have there been many others?

No.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

They don't care about us.

They transfer us without asking us.

They pile on the work.
People are cracking up.

Another one of my colleagues
attempted suicide two weeks ago.

- The unions are useless.
- The unions?

They're like God.
They're long dead.

- Really?
- You have to fight for yourselves.

Put a spanner in the works.
Do you remember the Red Brigades?

Didn't they kill people?

Yes, that's where they went wrong.
No one cared.

Thousands of people are killed
every day and no one protests.

You have to take it out
on material goods.

All people care about
is their possessions.

Imagine the power you would wield

if you chucked into the gutter
all the official letters you carry.

It sounds petty but it would throw
the system into disarray.

That way
you would amount to something.

You're a true scholar, Mr Luigi.

I have a brain. I use it.

I don't dare...

brush against you.

I don't dare lean...

into your ear...

to tell you...

the words that are burning...

my lips.

There.

Me too.

I breathe in your scent

as it wafts past...

and intoxicates me...

Shit!

- Agathe?
- Hello, Alessandro.

It's incredible to see you here.

I came to say goodbye.

Are you cured?

I've always liked mornings.

Do you remember
that poem you read me?

"By dawn all the suns

"Have not fully risen"

"Sleepy

"Nonchalant

"They spurn what the day
has in store for them

"Men's faces, death and war

"The suns at dawn are like children
who have no notion of time"

It feels good out.

I'm going on a journey.

On a journey?

Be happy, Alessandro.

"It is impossible
for the international criminal court

"to press charges
against Mr Silvio Berlusconi

"for crimes against humanity,

"embezzlement,
illegal medical practice..."

- Medical practice?
- Apparently so.

"...mental cruelty
and inciting debauchery in minors.

"We draw your attention to the fact
that intellectual genocide

"and psychological torture
do not fall under any category..."

- I can see you, you idiot.
- Sorry.

..."covered by this court.
Yours sincerely..."

- What are you going to do?
- Carry on.

Good luck.

- I've had enough.
- Don't give up.

- It's worth fighting for, Luigi.
- Of course it is.

Yes.

Us girls understand one another.

You might at least knock!

- Why?
- I don't know.

- She might be naked.
- What are you doing?

- My French essay.
- Then why would she be naked?

- Idiot!
- Is that the title?

"Literature is not life.
It is so much more."

Analyse and comment
on this line by James Joyce.

- Did Joyce say that?
- Apparently so.

Shall I help you?

Last time Malou helped you
you got an eight.

- Charming!
- What?

- I'll leave you to it.
- So you speak Italian now?

Come on, Siddhartha.

James Joyce.

The great Irish writer.

So this is a quote by him.

Let's be honest,
it was a stupid thing to say.

What happened next?

When I got to the hospital

they said she had died that morning.

They had tried to warn me

but I had left
my mobile phone at home.

But I didn't dream it.

I swear, B�atrice.
I didn't dream it.

Another ghost in your life.

Don't you have any?

Not really.
I'm more interested in the living.

Ah, yes. The living.

Right, back to your places.

We've got our work cut out.

You are the hope
and the glory

and we are dust.

We slip through your fingers
and return to the earth.

Welcome this day,
to your kingdom of peace and light,

Agathe,

our sister who has left us
to join you.

We remember her

and we pray to you, Lord.

Amen.

Condolences.

Excuse me.

Please wait.

May I ask you who you are?

Alessandro Reggazzoni.

I used to read
to Agathe in hospital.

You read to her?

Florence.

I'm her daughter.

We had one too many arguments.

I stormed out.

We sent the odd card every year
with a few trite sentences.

Sometimes it's hard.

We never knew
what to say to one another.

Did she suffer much?

She was very brave.

She preferred to smile.

Yes, her smile.

I loved your mother.

Me too.

Just not very well.

Words failed me and I said
the opposite of what I thought.

Then a huge rift opened up,

dividing us.

Even as a child...

I never told her
how much I loved her.

I'm sorry.

Have you been reading
in hospitals for long?

Quite a long time, yes.

I assume you talk
as well as read?

Did my mother talk to you about me?

A bit, yes.

- A bit.
- She was very modest.

Yes.

Modesty.

I've never really known...

whether it's a quality or...

or a failing.

Oh, my goodness!
I completely forgot.

I'm meeting her lawyer
in Strasbourg.

I'll get this.

Bye, then.

And thank you,
for everything you did.

She seems to know him well.

- From his singing group?
- Or the hospital or the university.

Someone who sees a lot of him.

What does she say?

I'd show you
but it's getting intimate.

What do you write?

I make things up.

You can't keep writing for 50 years.
They must meet.

Who must meet?

Obama and Putin.

It's always politics with you two.

Is anyone here?

We're in here.

- Hi.
- Hello.

What are you up to?
Are you still on that?

You'll never grow up!

You must admit, it's not bad.

Not bad, not bad.
How will you print it?

Jean-Paul's mate
works for the paper.

This is by the by, but that moron
sent his estimate for the roof.

- He's having a laugh.
- The bastard.

We must look like suckers!

Yes?

Hello.

Yes?

No, not at all. Of course.

I know the street, yes.
Number 27.

3pm. OK. No problem.

You too. See you on Tuesday.

Till later.

She'll be with us for a while.
The children's ward was full.

- Ready?
- Yes.

Hello.

- How are you, poppet?
- I'm fine.

- Nina, this is Alessandro.
- Hello, Nina.

- Hello.
- I'll leave you to it.

See you later.

Be careful.
Italians have an eye for the girls!

Stop it!

So? You're not suffering too much?

It's my heart.
It never beats at the same pace.

It either beats too fast
or almost slows to a halt.

I'm a bit embarrassed
because I normally see adults

and the books I have
are a bit advanced for you.

I don't know...
Do you like poetry?

Yes, but I especially like
stories from antiquity.

Greek myths?

I'll bring some next time.

Listen, at the moment

I'm rehearsing a song
with some friends.

The lyrics are by a Sicilian poet
called Alfio Antico.

I can read you the translation
if you like.

It is called "The Silence of Love".

"I have loved you from the cradle

"I have fed you sweet pleasures,
one by one

"Silent love
flows through our veins

"I will never leave you"

- Is this OK? Do you like it?
- It's beautiful.

"Do not weep, olive trees

"My love and tenderness
are far-reaching

"Joy, my beloved,
emanates from my soul

"Give me your heart
and I'll give you my life

Sorry I'm late.

- The city has changed a lot.
- Hello.

I got a bit lost.
Did you come by scooter?

No, I've got an electric bicycle.

- Thank you for agreeing to this.
- You're welcome.

My darling Flo.

If you are reading this letter,
that means I am gone.

If you are here,
that means I am nowhere.

We caused one another
too much pain.

I didn't want you to feel obliged
to come back because I was ill.

I loved you so much,
even during your long absence.

I know it is too late now

but I feel bad that I wasn't able
to keep you close.

Forgive me.

Please.

Think of me from time to time.

Keep a small space for me
in your heart and your memory.

I won't make a noise.

I'll just be there.

Lots of love, my darling daughter.

We always used to come here

to feed the swans.

I threw the bread with one hand,
not wanting to let go of her.

I still remember
how warm her hand felt.

Have you noticed the swans?

They never change.

It's as if they're always
the same ones.

They never age.

- You keep him locked up.
- He's the one who won't go out.

- Here.
- Thank you.

At least he can't wreak havoc
in the flat.

Has he lived with you for long?

Since Berlusconi was elected.
He was devastated.

- I'd like to meet him.
- On your own head be it.

Do you like living
in the south of France?

I followed a man there.
You've got to live somewhere.

Do you know what I miss most?
The cold and the snow.

- You must think I'm mad.
- No, not at all.

I'm from northern Italy
from Asiago.

It snows there in winter
in the mountains.

- Do you ever go back?
- Every year.

I don't have any family left
but I have friends and cousins.

It's strange
but this is my home now.

I love it here.

- Does your daughter speak Italian?
- When we're arguing, yes.

What does your partner do?

He builds bridges.
He destroys things too.

Our relationship is becoming
harder and harder.

The worst thing is,
my mother was right.

Your daughter must love you.

Recently she's been hiding it well.

- Do you have children?
- He didn't want any.

He said he wanted to feel free.

Do you regret it?

For a long time
I thought I didn't.

I used to look at mothers
and feel glad I wasn't one.

Then I realised
I was lying to myself.

I regret it enormously.

I sense the passing of time
and I'm missing out.

If you like, I'll give you
my brother and daughter.

You can take them back with you.

He's leading his own revolution.

Sometimes he's insufferable.

But there are times when,
if he hadn't been there,

I don't know
how I would have coped.

Mad people have their uses.

This is my hotel.

Thank you for a lovely evening
and for...

No, thank you.
I was delighted to...

Will you be back.

That reminds me,

the hospital gave me your number.

I haven't given you mine.

There.

Thank you.

- Goodbye, Alessandro.
- I meant to say...

Agathe,

whenever she spoke of you,

her eyes lit up.

They shone.

I'm sorry.

- Morning, Mr Luigi.
- Morning.

- Coming in for coffee?
- I can't today.

Next time.

This is it, Mr Luigi.

I've made up my mind to act.

Good for you.

Remember, if you get caught,
just deny everything.

Good luck.

Hello, Mrs Bisheim.
How are you today? Can I help you?

Leave me alone,
you wretched Eyetie!

Yes!

He's gone!

Yes!

He's gone!

The traitor has fled!

- Are you mad?
- Look!

The traitor has gone!

He's gone!

He's gone to Paraguay!

Long live Italy!

The tyrant has fled.

What's this idiot doing?

Long live freedom!

Look, all of you!

He refused to talk
other than to tell my colleagues...

I've lost my keys.

He told the men who arrested him
that he wouldn't cooperate

as long as the police
were controlled by imperialists.

Here.

A new neighbour
identified him for us.

She came in
to report a stolen bicycle.

He got knocked about a bit
by a driver

so he damaged the guy's car,
but not seriously.

He's in here.

- That is him, isn't it?
- Yes, that's him.

- Hello.
- Hi. How are you?

I'm fine. You?

- Hello, everyone.
- Hi.

- Hi, how are you?
- Fine. You?

- Hard at it?
- As usual.

Hi.

- Are you OK?
- Yes.

- Hi.
- Hi, Alessandro.

- Are you OK?
- I'm fine. You?

You look well.

Do you think so?

Have you finally met someone?

Why do you say that? No.

That's a no that means yes.

- I assure you, I haven't.
- You don't want to talk about it.

"He felt the presence
of Eurydice behind him.

"He knew that if he turned round
she would remain in the underworld.

"But his desire to see her again
was so strong

"that Orpheus' pace quickened.

"At times he could have sworn

"he felt his beloved's warm breath
on the nape of his neck."

- He turns round.
- Do you know the story?

No, but I'm sure he turns round.

Why do you think that?

The dead can't join
the land of the living.

Do you think that's fair?

That's just how it is.

Yes, that's just how it is.

Is this boy in your class?

No, but he's in my year.

Are you a little bit
in love with him?

I don't know.

I can't help thinking of your mother

and remembering the first time
she mentioned Alessandro.

- Did she meet him at uni?
- Yes.

She was in her final year
and he was...

What's it called?
An assistant lecturer.

He'd been there a year, I think.

- Was it love at first sight?
- I'll say!

She never stopped
talking about him.

Even your grandpa noticed
the change in her.

He wondered
what was going on.

Talk of the devil.

Let's change the subject.
Men don't understand these things.

You said Chez Koenig!
Hello, poppet.

I said Au Floriant.

You must be going senile.

Have you got a stapler?

A stapler? No.

I never staple anything.
Stapling is a violent gesture.

- Who's this?
- Check out the date.

- What was he doing that day?
- Your dad never tells me anything.

- Maybe it's Lover Girl.
- No way.

She would have alluded to it
in her emails.

- What do her emails say?
- Nothing.

They're of no interest.

They're getting too highbrow.

- What do we do?
- Nothing.

We wait.
What else can we do?

Have you seen?
I've moved it.

Moved what?

The phone to the left of the apple.
It looks better now.

Much better.

Yes, much better.

Come in.

- Hello.
- You wanted to see me?

Yes. Shut the door.

"I want to die
on your naked breast."

"Open yourself up
to the communism of love."

You write well, Alessandro.

I write? What do I write?

But words...

- Words are no longer enough.
- What are you doing?

- Alessandro!
- Stop it!

Stop it!

Have you lost your mind?
Stop it!

Alessandro!

You're insane!

Watch out!

Who's that?

Is it normal to kiss boys at 15?

How old were you
when you first kissed a girl?

That's different.
It's different.

Of course it is!
You men are all the same.

- What are we eating?
- Salad.

- Again?
- Like it or lump it!

Listen, Irina isn't stupid.

She's got her head screwed on.

I remember the first time
you came to the shop.

She was knee-high to a grasshopper
and she never left your side.

It was as if you were clinging on
to one another.

Leave her in peace.

Trust her.

You fight like cat and dog.

She talks to Camille
and Camille tells me everything.

- Really?
- Yes.

Get off her back.

Be nice to her.

- I'm sure you're right.
- Of course I'm right.

Otherwise, you'll end up
turning her against you.

She's in love.

Being in love is a good thing.

Don't you think?

I'll go easy on her.

- I hate seeing you like that.
- You don't get it.

What don't I get?

That you spend your time
snogging boys?

What do you know
about kissing?

- What?
- This is not the Middle Ages!

Listen, Irina.

- You hardly know him.
- We've been going out for weeks.

That's hardly
a long-term relationship!

Do you want me to wait
another 15 years to kiss him

so he grows tired of waiting
and dumps me?

Shut up!
I'm sick of being told off.

Listen to me for once.
You're wrong about this.

Would you rather I became a nun?

I've never said that.

We'll talk about it tomorrow.

Take a look at yourself,
at your own life.

What's wrong with my life?

You teach students about tarantella,
about music with curative powers.

But it hasn't cured you.

I want to breathe and to love.
I don't want to end up like you.

All alone in old age

with a heart so out of practice
that it's dried up.

Do you realise
what you're saying?

Instead of suffocating me
as if I was a baby

why not see to your own needs
and leave me in peace?

Good night.

You can't do this to us.
The concert is in two weeks.

J�r�me can stand in for me.
We have the same voice.

This is ridiculous.
You're ready.

- Is this just some whim?
- No, not at all.

I haven't been feeling well.
I'm out of sorts.

- Have you got personal problems?
- No.

I'm coming down with something.
I feel weird. I've lost my appetite.

Maybe I need to have some tests.

I can't force you to sing,
but you've landed us in the shit

and put paid to a year's work!

- I'm sorry.
- So you should be.

- No, no.
- No.

No, you do it.
It's best if you do it.

A girl's voice will reassure her.
Here.

- Hello.
- Sorry to disturb you.

I don't know you but I wanted...

You don't know me either

but you may know my father,
Alessandro Reggazzoni.

I do.

I'm his daughter, Irina.
He might have mentioned me.

Of course.

I'm with my uncle
and we wanted...

This might sound weird but...

we have a suggestion to make.

Call these aubergines?

Where is Irina?

At Camille's
doing her maths' homework.

Leave her alone, will you?

Yes?

I didn't realise you lived here.

Hello.

It's OK, I'm not here about
your brother or your daughter.

I'm going door to door.
Do you know her?

Yes, she's the post woman.
Has something happened to her?

We suspect her of setting fire
to the sorting office.

It went up in smoke
along with all the letters

the day the region's tax bills
went out.

You can imagine the chaos.
Did you notice anything unusual?

- Did she say anything?
- No.

Her motives are unclear
and she's denying it.

You should talk to my brother.

I'm not usually here
when she comes. Sorry.

It's no use asking him.
He's hardly forthcoming.

He's a bit shy, you know.

Well, we have
no evidence against her.

Yet more pointless paperwork.
Thanks all the same.

By the way, is your brother
still dressed the same way?

No, no, no.

He's changed his pyjamas.

Goodbye.

What have you done now?

Luigi, come here,
you fat oaf!

Look how cute she is there.

- Did Grandma lend you this?
- She gave it to me.

She said I should have it.

- Look at her face there!
- It must have been carnival time.

She was pretty, wasn't she?

So are you.

- How old do you think she was?
- 15 maybe.

Like me.

Like you.

- B�atrice left you a phone message.
- Really?

What's this about you
not singing in the concert?

Yes, maybe...

Are you mad?
You've been rehearsing for months.

If you don't go,
I'll never speak to you again.

Never? That's a bit harsh.

The operation has been
a success, Mrs Brass.

Your breasts are superb
and the scars are invisible.

There's seems to be a scar under
my left breast if you look closely.

That's just a very localised
allergic reaction.

That will disappear in a few days.

Impotent Eyetie!
All mouth and no trousers!

There.

See you this evening.

- Your big night.
- It's a concert, not a revolution.

- What's his name?
- Aur�lien.

That's a nice name.

It makes a change
from Brandon, Kevin or Davy.

Why don't you
invite him back one day?

Provided he's not stupid.

- Bye.
- Bye.

Florence's voicemail.
Leave a message.

Hello, Florence.

This is Alessandro.

Alessandro Reggazzoni.

Hello.

I hope you are well and that...

That... you know...

That the weather's nice
where you are

and that it's not too rainy
or too windy.

Alessandro Reggazzoni
speaking.

Talk to you soon.

I hope... I hope
the weather is nice where you are!

Alessandro Reggazzoni.

You are an idiot.

A big fat idiot.

- Hurry up. I'm going to be late.
- Coming.

- Are my trousers here?
- Yes.

- That will do.
- It's not done up.

It's fine like that.

Hang it up in the car.

Yes, Mum.

Won't you come?

- No.
- Go on.

I'm staying put until you know
who is really no longer in power.

Bye.

Break a leg.

Here they are.

Oh, Germain!

How are you?
How lovely to see you again.

This is Sinead,
my Irish girlfriend.

Everyone...

Come over here, please.

I want to say a few words
before the concert.

Is everyone in tune
and warmed up?

Are your scores in order?
Good. Let's go, then.

I have loved you from the cradle

I have fed you sweet pleasures,
one by one

Silent love
flows through our veins

I will never leave you

Do not weep

Olive trees

My love and tenderness

Are far-reaching

Joy, my beloved

Emanates from my soul

Give me your heart

And I'll give you my life

My thoughts are empty
and transparent

Only when a mother
forgets her child

Will I forget my love for you

I love you, my darling girl

Swallows,
fly towards my beloved

And sing for her
in life and in death

The countryside
is our whole world

You are the queen
and I the king of Spain