Original subtitles

You want to tear it all down? - No, only this partition.

I see. - The stairs can stay.

And the connection to the kitchen? - It doesn't bother me.

But the floor is too white. I do not like bright woods.

Mahogany parquet would be nice.

You want to open up the space and keep the stairs in sight?

The staircase in the middle of the room is not a problem.

No more bright colours? - Instead, I'd rather have orange.

And all new floors? - Parquet, just like you have.

Mahogany... so, no brightness.

I don't like this light wood. It looks too Scandinavian.

The kitchen stays that way? - It's okay.

I'd like the wall back there to be plastered in orange.

It's a nice color for eating.

Plastering? - Yes.

Not normal wall paint?

To the left side!

Put pressure on the head with your forearm.

Shoulders upright, and throw him on his back.

Some more.

Sorry, I changed my mind. I would rather take the subway.

I just remembered, I have to get something.

You have hailed me! - Sorry, I have to buy something.

You look tired. - I am too.

It's not so bad, but the media stress me.

Should I cook for you again? - I only eat vegetables.

The preparation relaxes me.

The kids ask about you. - I see.

Really?

They do sometimes.

Are there any carrots? - Of course.

I can come without the kids. - Yes, I'll let you know.

You say so, but you do not.

I promise to come. Just when, I do not know.

An old thaler!

I'd rather not.

I'd rather not tell you on the phone,

I might be overheard.

Do you understand?

Take the message to Wilfried. He knows more to tell you.

Michel Houellebecq, the writer, writes about another writer.

His name is Lovecraft.

The book is so macabre, it's surreal, gloomy...

Here he's writing about... - Lovecraft.

This is the purest horror.

"Have I taken a piss?" Those are some rude words!

He poses the question:

Can I go any further than my own character allows me?

Do I shock myself to the point of being pissed-off?

One hardly sees you!

I've been in the media a lot, lately.

But now I'm having a break.

Do you still go to church?

When I go it's mostly funerals.

Indeed?

Lesser to weddings.

Anyway, nice to see you! - Thank you!

Come visit us sometime soon.

Martine will be pleased. - Okay.

Goodbye. - Bye, Michel.

Do you still play? - No, not at all.

You were quite good at it!

Try it for my sake! - No, I'm not interested.

The piano can be played badly.

You're right about that!

The violin is by far less forgiving to bad players.

The piano is too popular to me.

I like decrypting the scores.

I will never be a virtuoso.

True! - It's like that.

But it gives me joy to decode the notes,

especially in a piece by Bach.

If it amuses you... - That's the point, though!

Here, for you!

Wrapping gifts is not my forte.

Let's see.

Put it on, the size should be right.

Right now? - If you would, yes.

So I can still exchange it.

Yes...

Ah, it looks good on you!

Do you like it? - Very much!

That pleases me.

Doesn't it make look gay?

If one composer is superficial, it's Mozart.

Mozart... is moronic.

He stands no comparison with Beethoven.

I once heard a radio show on France Culture.

It was about the history of rhythm:

If you play Mozart slowly, it sounds like Beethoven.

The two have copied each other, they sound alike anyhow.

Mozart slowed down sounds like Beethoven?

Yes.

Who'd want to speed up Mozart?

He is already very fast.

And not a big deal, too.

Beethoven played quickly results in Mozart.

Such nonsense! - I'm sure of it!

Or Janis Joplin... wonderful.

She's a great singer.

Almost all the records from the years 1966to 1970are good.

Right!

I find most music from that time,

has a vitality and energy, you couldn't find anywhere today.

Every form of art has its eras...

Ups and downs...

The literature back then, however, was bad.

Only miserable works. - Who were there, then?

Except Sollers, not many.

The end of the "Nouveau Roman"?

It was on its last legs. Nothing outstanding.

There were good thrillers.

For example by Manchette.

Or Jonquet. Crime writers were always good.

Pouy also comes to mind. - I also like those.

I recognised you from afar, by your appearance.

I had to take the opportunity!

"Platform" introduced me to your work, really.

And it showed me your views of the world.

That cover I didn't like.

This is an older edition. - I know.

The new one is better.

It's for me, Christophe.

I haven't read any of your poems in a while.

but I do remember this one excerpt very well:

"Men only want their cocks to be sucked."

How well observed!

That really does speak to me. - That's okay.

What kind of a tiger must my mother have dreamed of,

when she was pregnant with me.

If one considers I used to love flowers!

It's strange...

but still...

for this act...

I gave up everything.

What kind of construction is going on outside of the building?

Is there going to be new pavement? - I'm not going out there.

There's no one out there.

It is like Le Corbusier's idea:

Instead of car traffic we are to have squares for pedestrians.

Here all these places are crap.

The shops have to close for a lack of customers.

The cement slabs here are shitty.

Were they ordered from the council?

Argenteuil is devastating.

I only know of failed examples.

Honestly!

Le Corbusier is nothing but a single fiasco.

An urban planning disaster to happen.

It's only interesting in terms of great volumes for housing.

His whole concept is totalitarian.

It creates an urban monstrosity.

As an opponent of ruralism

he strictly separates nature and residential development.

Strangely, the idea of the vertical village has led to

a counter-utopia in Ballard's work.

Now, here it's nothing like that:

This high-rise resembles nothing like a village.

A resident of the top floor was supposed to be the village chief.

In the end this is not at all like a village.

The concept would only work in certain few environments,

such as in holiday resorts.

The aesthetics of them are another question...

Or in concentration camps and places like that!

That was his ideal.

You'd really benefit from a visit to Easter Island.

I can't leave. The literature prize "30million friends" has called on me.

I am on the jury. - 30million friends, no less!

I do not want to boast.

But I have to read 15books for it.

Honestly! - I trust you on that.

It's a commendable jury.

The Prix Goncourt could need that too!

I read, I take notes, bring up arguments...

How many judges are there?

I think... we are ten.

Do you know your colleagues? - Sure, we meet regularly!

At Drouant, just like the Goncourt jury.

I'd say that's because of their excellent kitchen.

We meet in the same room as them.

Which floor? - The 23rd.

Excuse me. - Who are you?

Beautiful view up here. - Pretty.

You really do feel the heat at a height like this.

Aren't you people warm? - Only so-so.

The building up ahead is the financial police.

It is 200meters across.

The fraud brigade.

Money laundering, larceny...

if we'd take a run-up we could land there.

It takes forever, don't you think?

How you can you stand this heat?

Do you air from time to time?

Max?

I can't recognise a thing yet.

Still nothing.

Impossible...

That made him laugh too.

Fuck, cool view from up here.

People are tiny.

Here, his bedtime reading.

Okay, that must be him.

Tocqueville. "Democracy in America."

Everything is going well.

In about a quarter of an hour we will leave this place.

Easy, easy.

Be gentle with him.

Put the legs on the floor. - Why should I?

Just do it.

We'll take him over at once. Because it's very tight.

Do we take off the tape?

Oops, I'm sorry.

Thank you.

Are we far from Paris? We drove less than an hour.

Do you want an address? - No, it's just,

I haven't smoked in ages.

Here. Deal with the photo.

Nothing to say? - Who are you?

What do you want?

Hold the paper like this.

Now, hold it up. - We have to get on.

The cigarette has to be out of the picture.

If you want to explain, what it is you want.

We can't say anything about it for the moment.

Can I make a phone call?

That's not possible.

Please, look over there for the photo?

Pick up the phone, Mathieu. - Not now.

Not for the moment.

Do you smoke a lot? - Yes.

What about your family?

Nobody will notice I'm gone. I think,

my agent would be the first. I never miss any appointments.

An important one is coming up.

We have to negotiate a contract.

Without my consent, he can not go on.

And you are healthy? - So and so.

Anything out of the ordinary? - Only a glaucoma.

Your eyes?

If I don't take medicine for it, it might trouble me.

They're eyedrops, called Lumigan.

This is what they'd call a kidnapping.

Or is it? - Sure.

And you're waiting for someone to call.

From your commissioner?

Why won't you tell me?

You are here, that's enough. You are doing fine, right?

We won't hurt you, don't worry, relax.

They'll inform the police.

I always keep to my appointments. - I beg your pardon?

I always keep to my appointments. I've never missed one.

They will try to call me.

In at least a few days.

Do you always carry your phone? - Yes.

Do you have it?

Take it from him. What is this crap?

He's not going to answer it.

There's a risk if he could make a call.

- It's turned off, alright.

Sometimes I get pains in the ear.

I have no idea why.

Are they bad? - Yes, terribly.

What, if... - Yes?

I do have an appointment tomorrow.

In the evening we will have to chain you,

just to be sure.

Unfortunately we'll have to do this every day, from now on.

Be so kind, and stretch your hands.

Can you take off my parka?

Can I have a light?

Is everything okay? - Yes, I'm fine.

Right, take a rest now. - See you later.

See you later, Michel.

Do you have his phone?

Weren't we supposed to get paid at the end of the week?

We should get our 20,000 for bringing him here.

Right. - But there's no dough yet.

Maxime is acting a little bit strange at the moment.

Well, Max?

Here's the thing I worry about: That guy is a bit weak.

That's right.

I do agree with you: the man's a bit frail.

He takes it very well, though, for a weak man.

He has learned to deal with his fears.

Gotta love 'm, these writers!

A bum like me, I don't know a thing he says. Those words!

"Then please conciliate, so as to unfasten me some more?"

Totally out of his mind.

Perhaps, it means he's had it with the cuffs and wants to take a walk.

Anyone who wants to volunteer?

How's this going to end?

I'm getting quite stiff.

I'll take off your shoes,

because of the bedsheets.

How do you feel, Michel?

I'm bored.

I can't walk or smoke, or even read.

Do you want a particular book?

A novel perhaps, if you can bring me one.

- What's that? It's what my dad read, it wasn't bad.

I already know this book. But I'll read it once more.

Do you have a light? - It's ten to six.

Damn, it's that late already!

Can we leave you alone? - Yes.

How far are you with the food? - It's only ten to six.

I haven't eaten anything.

He gets on my nerves. - It's only eight days!

A real pain in the ass. - I'll deal with it!

The ashes! Watch it.

On the floor again... There's an ashtray for that!

If he wants to start a fire, he could do it with a cigarette.

Why should I want to burn myself? That would be pretty stupid.

We'll make you a sandwich. See you later.

Everything is rusty here.

This is the pump?

Here seems to be a problem.

Don't make a mess on the floor.

It's because of the handcuffs.

It's difficult to eat being handcuffed.

Some can write for the sake of style

and others, more to tell stories?

It depends.

Whether it's poetry or novels.

Depending on being poems or novels...

In the novel it's images that are most important.

And in a poem it's more...?

Well... a bit...

Style is not really the appropriate word.

This is difficult to explain.

The requirements are different?

In poetry, there are none.

None at all? - No.

I thought there'd be some, at least...

Alexandrines? Don't they have standard rules?

No, those are only guidelines.

What about literary reference points?

They play no major role.

Interesting.

The most important thing is...

to do nothing, to get a bit bored.

Then somehow it will click.

I beg your pardon?

If you do nothing, things will come to mind.

Suddenly there'll be ideas and words.

Out of nowhere.

Can you create from emptiness?

It is the essential.

A phone call, for example, can prevent me from writing.

Okay.

I must be absolutely empty.

In order to write? - And to be inspired.

Certain emotions you personally need to have experienced...

I have not experienced much...

Haven't you? - No more than anyone else.

Really? - Yes.

You don't write autobiographical...

No. On the contrary.

Oh?

You can write about anything, even stuff you do not know?

It's not quite like that.

To create a character you will have to talk to people

who have experienced what you want to describe.

For the figure of a rogue I would talk to a crook.

You listen to people.

Right, I listen a lot.

Sometimes little things will do.

For example, a conversation...

in a supermarket, where everything has been moved.

Where an oldie can't find his usual goods any longer.

And then I have a scene.

Can I have another glass of wine?

Another sip.

Clearly, you can handle a lot of drinking.

But you shouldn't overdo it.

My man, two glasses of wine certainly isn't overdoing it.

Do you have to haggle about everything?

I'm not haggling.

Two glasses of wine with a sandwich is not too much.

Oh well.

This is normal for me... - What?

Sometimes I don't understand a word.

Now and then I have occasional soliloquies.

I hear what you say, but understand only half.

I mutter to myself sometimes.

It's this way.

Ah, there.

Are you done, Michel? - Yes.

Were you...

able to call someone?

You have to inform someone,

that you've kidnapped me. Someone who'd pay.

It seems to me that you have no real plan.

Do the three of you make decisions?

And? Alright?

Alright.

Good day!

Did you sleep well last night?

We've returned the car.

What area are you from?

I'm from Normandy.

Here are some cigarettes. - Thank you.

I took one.

Did you take his lighter? - I've forgotten about it.

Do you now the latest news about Patrick Poivre d'Arvor?

No, I don't think so.

Yannick Noah wants to be a singer, and Patrick Poivre d'Arvor,

the moderator, is trying to become a writer.

He's been writing for a while now.

Bloody hell!

What is this shithole?

I could watch some TV. - Just wait.

I'll figure out just how the thing works.

We could watch "Rocky", that's also good.

You wanted to see fights, you'll get some real ones.

There is a difference in style. My opponent's a boxing specialist.

Me, I am trying to get him on the floor.

I'm trying to lower the fight.

Because I'm better on the floor.

I can't get to him when he's standing up.

and a throw also doesn't work.

Here I am at an advantage. - He's bleeding? That's disgusting.

After the beating, it bleeds a bit.

A lot, rather...

Here, I get him to protect his face with his hands.

So I can finish him off with a stranglehold.

He knocks on the mat and admits his defeat.

I believe, this is not really my thing.

I thought so,

but can you understand why it's fun to me?

We're not forcing anyone to look at this.

We just like to do it.

I see.

This is a quick one: I grab his leg from below,

then I use a grip, so he's unable to move.

I keep him down by putting pressure on the ankle and knee.

He's in pain. - Yes.

Well, I do not know...

Could you write a book about me? - Probably, yes.

Really? - Yes.

Why not.

What is it, damned?

Did he tell you about the 20,000?

Casually, I believe.

Perhaps he'll recount your split.

He knows that it annoys you, if he is only talking to me.

And go! - He obeys to the word.

When did you last see Michel, Max?

Go see about him yourself.

Don't make a scene.

This time it's your backaches, and then... you go yourself!

You are throwing a tantrum. - No, not at all, I don't!

I only ask when it was you've last seen Michel.

Always something to complain about.

Should I go? - You do that.

With my back pain.

"The world's awakening.

I am the now. The north wind.

The world awakens.

All is here and now and all is apparition."

Michel!

Excuse me, I thought you were dead.

Me too.

When I die, I will leave instructions.

What are you saying?

I'll give you instructions, before I die.

What kind? - For the funeral.

I'm sorry. - What time is it?

I'll go check.

At times it's clear, and then again it's cloudy...

May I introduce you: Michel, ...Ginette.

Good day. - Good evening.

This is your place?

Yes, you are in my house.

Michel, what can I get you?

A Bourbon.

How was your trip? - Rainy.

This one tastes stronger.

What kind of sausage is this?

This one's not Alsatian. It's from Poland.

Are you Polish? - Not me, my husband is.

I've been there, when I was young. - In Poland?

I've been two or three times.

Even before the Iron Curtain fell.

What do you wear at night? Pyjamas?

Yes, a pair of pyjamas.

You can't sleep all dressed.

It will have to do.

What surprises me, from the start on,

is that you don't wear masks. Your faces are uncovered.

In novels, normally,

that's not a good sign.

If the perpetrators operate openly, it means they have no fear,

of being recognised by their victims.

Because they intend to kill them.

Bull! - That'll be the day.

You shouldn't trust on novels.

It almost looks as if there's something to celebrate.

We are celebrating for you.

I was thinking you'd gotten my ransom.

I really have nothing to complain about.

Apart from the lighter.

Why do you carry this grudge over a lighter?

The reason is...

As a heavy smoker, he can understand me.

When I'm without my lighter and a smoke, I will panic.

But we wouldn't want anything to happen.

By the way: can I have a cigarette?

Just a question, Michel. I have taken the liberty

to read your Warcraft book.

About this genius,

who wrote these horror novels. - We did speak of it.

I mention it again,

because something struck me. Is it really true,

that you raised hell during a book reading?

Bringing Warcraft's pillow, stained with blood and sweat?

No, I have not.

It says so in your book!

No. - I've read it myself.

I'm just interested

in his personal life. Not in any special objects.

There's no concern with fetishism.

In the book you wrote about how

you found Lord Warcraft's pillow

at a pawnbroker's,

and could still smell him on it.

It had traces of sweat and blood...

He suffered from nosebleeds... - That's not at all in my book.

He's confusing stuff.

I don't understand you. - He's confusing stuff!

I didn't write that.

No, I have read so in the book!

That's not true. - No pillow?

As an author I should know, what I have written myself.

His denial makes me furious.

Furious!

Don't get all worked up. - He'd know what he's written.

Yes. Thank you.

I'm just a bum, so I only talk shit.

All I say is bullshit?

I'm telling you, he found a pillow at a shop.

With traces of sweat and blood on it.

And he simply denies it.

He's the one who wrote the book himself.

Is it in there, or not? - No.

I'm about to crack.

I will nail him to the wall.

This really bugs me.

He should know it!

I'll get the book. Then we can check it.

Don't freak out.

I could be wrong about the book and forgot about it.

You make me look like an idiot, a freak of birth!

A village idiot, who does not know what he has read.

Or you have misunderstood some.

Could be. - So, I'm the village idiot here.

That's how my friends see me.

In all of 25years I have never understood anything.

I'm going to do something to this man here.

If I prove to be right, I'll tear him to shreds.

Okay?

I'm the only one here who has read the book.

Dare tell it to my face,

that you have never found the blood-stained pillow of Warcraft.

Yes, or no? - Could be.

Then it tell to him. - Look at me, not at him!

Tell him. - Calm down.

I forgot. - You make me look like a liar.

I never said that. - Right.

This is some good chicken. - But not completely done.

When I checked on it, it was as soft as butter.

Your brother is a diplomat. We know it all.

We inquired about him.

No. How did you inform yourselves?

You are a public figure! - That's all wrong.

We know about your sister. - My biography is all false.

Really. - Pass me the ashtray.

As if journalists tell the truth!

I do have a sister though, and I would call her.

What's her name? - Catherine.

Why do you want to call her, and not your diplomat brother?

You call a sister to reassure her. Your brother, to work something out.

We are not very close, and lead very different lives.

Meaning what?

He isn't really a diplomat.

In fact, he works for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He does some confidential thing.

Are you saying he's in the agency? - Yes.

Do you want to talk to your sister? - Yes.

And she will contact your brother.

I have my reasons for it.

Let's be honest.

Do you really think the four of us will let you make phone calls?

Maybe you really should consider to release me.

It is an option.

You won't be here for a whole year. - That's well said.

I like this guy.

You have to understand: this isn't anything like my normal life.

Even though I do like the food.

Forgive me thinking for you, but... Who do you think would pay for me?

Don't you worry about that, Michel! We'll deal with the ransom.

I may be famous,

but who is to pay for my freedom? - What do you care?

If you ever bring this up again,

you will eat alone in your room, from now on.

- No! You wouldn't want that, would you?

It's better like this.

The literary milieu is... - Full of machos?

Full of conformist, straight people,

lovers of very young girls and alcoholics.

Homosexuality and cocaine barely exist in those circles.

All writers are supposed to be snorters.

Few are. There's far more booze.

And they tend to be pedophiliacs. It's true what they say.

But always heterosexual.

You had a problem like that.

When my parents told me, I was blown away by it.

I was 14years old then. Can you understand this, Michel?

He's from another background. I don't get this.

He groped my ass.

That's nothing real bad.

He's put his finger in it.

Really, up the ass. - That's fisting!

How old were you then? - Fourteen.

You have to speak out on it.

I've been there. - In the butt? - Yes.

Ginette thinks that's funny.

Finally.

I was in the shower.

Is the truck sorted?

It's always been only half a country.

Half of a country? - But very old.

Poland hasn't been in existence for very long. It is a...

Poland is a dream.

There's always been a Polish identity. - In their dreams...

It used to be a part of Prussia

and the remainders belonged to Russia and Austria.

That's the history.

Before that the Swedes used to attack the country.

In fact it's the history of a country that doesn't exist.

It exists, what is this bullshit? Poland is not a dream!

What Michel means to say,

is that over time, Poland has never been a nation.

Apart from the country: What is it about the language?

How come it even exists?

Because Poland has been in an exile.

Something can survive for a long time in exile.

Just like us, Gypsies?

You are what? - Gypsies.

Son of a bitch. That's why he's so hot-headed.

In Auschwitz, countless Gypsies have been killed,

but nobody hardly ever mentions that.

Six million dead Jews,

two million Gypsies, and a million...

of Charles Aznavour's people. - Armenians?

Exactly.

The Armenians and Jews were just added together.

And gays, too. That has to be said.

Not just the bodybuilders. - My grandfather has died there.

- Excuse me? My grandpa disappeared in Auschwitz.

Because he was in the resistance?

Not even that.

- Both of my grandfathers were killed there.

He was just a random victim.

Max? - Michel had too much to drink.

He had planted an oak, and then he said:

"when the lighting strikes..."

- This has actually happened. And then his cousins​​...

Good night. - Good night, Michel.

They have rebuild everything.

That night, when the tree fell, they had to raise a cross.

There is even speculation about Al-Qaeda involvement.

Is it a kidnapping? Schizophrenic seizure?

Memory loss? Or did he flee abroad?

"In the merciful mustiness...

I see rigid pastures,

bluish buildings and sterile pleasures.

I am the wounded dog, the plumber...

and the search & rescue team for the dead child."

Good day, Michel!

How are you doing?

Not too good, this morning.

Didn't you sleep well?

I think so. Maybe I drank too much, too.

We all had too much yesterday.

The wine here isn't very good.

Don't they have any Spanish ones at the supermarket?

- Wine? I prefer the "Ribera del Duero".

I don't know. Next time I go shopping, I'll have a look.

A "Ribera del Duero".

But if I'll find Spanish red wine, however...

Besides that, it smells weird here.

It smells funny? Perhaps that's because of Freddy.

Who's that?

This used to be the room for Mathieu, and his dog.

His name is Freddy. - Yes, it's a dog's smell.

The cigarette smoke should mask the smell.

Speaking of it: can I have a fire?

I have not smoked for a long time.

I understand.

Can I have the lighter?

We already talked about that. - You've promised me.

At dinner it was on the table.

You have promised it to me.

You had it when we ate dinner. - I could keep it with me.

I can't call you every time I need a lighter!

Don't work yourself up like this.

Sometimes you don't hear me. - That's possible.

This is all very...

I'm reading "The Nun" for the third time now.

I'd really like another book. - I can arrange that.

You have a lot to nag about.

You have to call a spade a spade.

Also I haven't gotten any ear drops. I'm in a real pain.

Sometimes the attacks are simply unbearable.

The police will press me to talk.

I know a lot about you. Better not tell me everything.

You don't have to tell them.

When asked, tell them you were drugged, and blindfolded...

I was drugged? - Yes, and you couldn't see anything.

So, I've slept through it. - There was music playing constantly.

You won't squeal on us?

I guess I could make it all up.

That I only slept all the time. - You see.

Mostly...

the groupies I had were at my poetry readings.

That is the reward if you are a public figure.

Were there pushy groupies?

Yes, but not because of my fame.

I used to be a bodyguard for Karl Lagerfeld...

Luc, I'm going. - Okay.

Later, Michel. - See you later.

Ciao, Freddy!

Before that I was in the Israeli army.

That's a good education!

I was a martial arts instructor. - They are renowned worldwide.

I can't whistle.

Try it, like this.

I can't.

Pucker your lips.

Press tightly.

More.

Then nothing comes out.

It won't work. How do you do that?

You're kidding me. - I'm trying my best.

Let's leave it. I can't do it.

There's hardly any novels here.

I have no idea. What kind did you pick?

Mostly historic books and works by Alain Minc.

Books on war are my husband's, the rest are mine.

I'll read them later, at the moment I don't feel for it.

Do you want a porn film?

Do you have porn movies? - Yes.

I wouldn't mind seeing a girl.

Right now.

A real girl...

I'm talking about a real sexual experience.

If all goes well, it should be over in three days.

Oh yeah?

Be over, in a positive sense. Then you will be released.

Good...

Are you happy about that? - Sure!

I don't mean to be rude...

I'd really like to pick up my life. Even though I like it here.

Good morning, Michel. - Good Morning.

So, three days.

Two or three.

What did I promise? - I could see your muscles.

That's what you want? - Yes, I'm interested in it.

Really? - Yes.

But I'm not dry...

You are not dry? - In competition shape.

I'll just show you.

What are those on the side?

What do you mean?

The muscles there on the side. What are their names?

These are the back muscles.

The broad dorsal muscles.

These are the pectoral muscles.

Ah, that's funny.

Really, funny.

Try it. Just for fun!

Chest pose and triceps. - Chest pose?

What's up with my lighter?

What lighter? - Luc has promised me one.

He wanted to give me one. - You'll get it in three days.

I'd thought to get one sooner.

I tell you because Luc has promised.

I don't have your lighter. - I don't care whose it is.

You'll get one. - Okay.

You need fresh air, we'll walk a bit later on.

I think he's brave. He takes well to the situation.

A good man.

I told you before that I'm brave.

Tough... - It's somewhat bizarre.

It seems a bit strange, but maybe you're right.

True. If I were you, I'd be quite scared.

Life goes on...

But... it can end suddenly. - That could always happen.

So, you're brave.

Perhaps I've simply seen enough,

that's why I can take this.

Are you serious? - Yes.

Really, Michel? - You're not worried you could die?

Pretty much.

Doesn't that frustrate you?

I don't believe in life very much.

- No.

Absolutely not.

Immanuel Kant's last words were:

"It's enough."

You don't think about the end all the time, just at the moment?

No, for over a year I have... - You don't plan to pop off?

Since a year or two I think: If I die now, it is good.

Do you want to stand in for Luc, for the fun of it?

I prefer the handcuffs.

Hold your arm horizontally. Like this.

And let go at the right moment.

Attack!

Listen honey, come join us tomorrow night.

Precisely, a cultured man, a writer by profession.

He is charming...

If he's pretty? He doesn't look too bad.

Come on, go! I'm telling you.

Show him.

It was built in 1941. A Dodge.

Fully restored.

From the electrical system down to the brakes...

The windshield here is from America.

And here this part will go.

It's for the heating.

Does anyone help you with it?

The man in the blue coveralls back there.

He sleeps over there, in the container.

This isn't an army speedometer. - Not military purpose.

Not this one here.

The leatherette seats are newly installed.

Even the doors and running boards. - Damn, Dad!

He's not supposed to leave the house.

I only wanted to show him the car.

No going about it alone! Off, back into the house.

Did you sleep well? - I didn't get a bit of sleep.

It was too loud. - Outside, a fox is around.

It is looking for young magpies.

What for? - To eat them!

Magpies?

Actually, they eat everything.

It was a young fox.

Block it and then a left upper.

Block and the left. - Pretty brutal...

You have to clench the fist and rotate the shoulder.

That way you protect the chin

and the impact is longer and harder.

Frontal... and hook.

Very well!

And hook! Well done, Michel.

Go back into defence right after.

Once again. And basic position.

Left... and low-kick. Not bad.

Very good, Michel.

You are very nimble. - And counterattack.

He'll break his thumbs. - Watch it.

It's my turn first.

Full on...

and middle-kick.

Frontal... and left hook. Very well.

And middle-kick. Top class, Michel!

I always let my arms dangle.

Cover... Frontal impact and hook.

Very good... and middle-kick. Not bad.

With Krav Nag it gets pretty rough:

Kicks to the crotch, Blows to the throat...

Such a hit will leave the largest man without breath.

Then you can kick him in the balls.

Or tear off his ears. It's a tough fighting style.

The technique is more militaristic. More combative.

Not bad. Push your leg back some more.

Very well. - My elbow!

Let go! - He broke my arm!

The opponent knocks off if he wants to end the bout.

You could break his elbow.

Now I will show you a triangle chokehold.

His head goes between the legs. To do this you have to spread them,

and put them around his neck.

With this hand you grab your ankle.

The legs should be up more. Good!

Now take his head with both hands,

pulling him to you and tighten the limbs.

Very good. Let go, or he'll choke.

Damn!

So, I'd like a little drink now. - Okay, I'll take you to your room

and bring a glass over.

We'll eat in a moment. - Just a small sip to relax.

Yes, I'd say that was pretty intense.

Mathieu!

See if he took my lighter!

The best kidneys I ever had were in Toul.

They made them really good.

I've also eaten some at the "Escale"

but they were not that good.

Or the ones recently. They weren't very good either.

I should rest a little. - Really?

Then take a rest.

Come on Michel, we are going back into the house.

Michel! - Wait for me!

We are going in.

All is not really clear to me. Who will pay for my ransom?

Who should do what? - Pay.

Good question. - The state will pay.

Hollande will buy you free. Are you satisfied now?

François Hollande?

You must be kidding me.

Nobody is ever going to pay anything for me.

Will your contact pay us at the end of the week?

Then it's all settled.

First two days, end of the week, then the middle of next week.

We have no clue where we stand!

You don't know anything!

We are not employees, who get paid for closing.

There was a deal.

Ask 10,000more, for each of us.

It doesn't work like that.

The deal can not be changed just like that.

It has been chanced already!

I put some pressure on him, And then you freak out.

If this doesn't work out I'll be stuck with Michel.

I tell you, time doesn't matter.

Do you want to leave, then?

Am I not allowed to be angry? It's my wife's birthday today.

Yes, you are. - Okay then, I'll stay.

I had him choke me for half of the day

and you didn't hear me complain.

That is besides the point. - He's getting drunk again.

When you're done shouting, make it up now.

Calm down, and then I'll bring the cake for the party.

We are brothers.

Excuse me, Michel, I lost my temper.

It's the stress. You are stressed.

This plan was bound to fail.

Nonsense. Don't you start that again.

Quit your constant nagging.

If you blow 'm out all at once, then you are free in three days.

Fuck, Michel! You missed one.

Shit.

But, it comes with the cake...

With the cake... what? - Give it to him.

Can I have some white wine?

Dédé, I believe there's someone coming for you.

Next she'll be laying flat out.

I have to go with him and look after the power.

Can your father manage alone? He should take his mask off.

The author of "Lord of the Rings" is a complete idiot.

No. - Yes, he is.

The whole sword fight history, the good vs. evil stuff...

It was so vague, I fell asleep.

Asleep, all right.

Trees with trolls in them and shitloads of incredible crap...

It's a created fantasy world.

That makes it interesting. - It's not for you.

Interesting, for a certain person.

For people with brains.

You could disagree. - No!

You're right and everyone else has to keep his mouth shut?

Am I right?

You can keep your trap shut, when it comes to literature.

I piss on your family, their kids, and your ancestry.

Piss, on your fucking work! - Watch it.

Does anyone even like it?

Shit! - What?

Don't you dare take the word tolerance in the mouth.

Because you're intolerant. Deeply intolerant.

Right. Fuck you.

Fuck you too! - Don't upset the dog.

Idiot, fascist, reactionary!

Fatima is coming in a moment, to be with Michel tonight.

His birthday gift!

Close your eyes, Michel.

Stand up, Michel, so we can cuff you.

It's like starting over.

Blindfold, handcuffs...

My name is Fatima.

Well. I'm off.

Is that all? Ginette said...

...there would be more in it. - I know nothing about that.

I do not understand a single word of Polish.

Nor do I speak it.

Not even a single word.

These are your parents?

Jadek?

No, that's not necessary.

I have a pain in this ear.

I have to go back to the house.

Something wrong with you?

Yesterday's food has gotten to me.

I'll also take one.

Is this a painkiller?

This ear hurts?

No, the right one, the left side is fine.

What's wrong with him? - Diarrhoea, vomiting...

Perhaps it's from his dog.

A gastro-intestinal flu? - No idea.

How did it go with Fatima? - Very good.

These belong to me.

A nice girl. - Yes, very nice.

I've spent a lovely night.

Where does she live? - In the village.

With her parents? - No, poor thing.

Her parents died in an accident.

She was raised by her uncle. - Alone?

Alone.

Does she also have another job?

Odd jobs...

She goes out cleaning. Whatever she can do.

That went really well.

Maybe it's the wine that's gotten to my stomach.

I'd rather suspect it's the meat.

Did you buy it from the butcher's?

In the supermarket.

There you go...

The fox didn't disturb me, because I was busy.

I do not know him personally.

I negotiate with a middleman.

Don't tell me it's Jews or Arabs. - Why not?

What would they want from Houellebecq?

It wouldn't be the first time.

He used to be together with a Muslim woman.

So what?

Maybe that's an eyesore to the Muslims or Jews.

No idea.

Someone is being kidnapped, because he lived with a Muslim?

Or he has staged the whole thing himself.

Then it's not Jews or Arabs.

I've thought for long...

I would like Fatima to come back tonight.

That would mean a great deal to me.

This is a bit unexpected...

I won't be here forever, you see.

You want to see her again... - Before I leave here.

This could be important.

Maybe for you. - For the girl too.

If you can arrange it, I'll write a poem for you.

For me? - That's right.

Or a song. Whatever you want.

That would make me very happy. I would prefer a poem.

A poem it is, then. I can do it.

I don't doubt that...

But it will be difficult...

A poem just for you. This stays between the two of us.

The three of us together should be smarter than him.

We shouldn't let him take us for a laugh.

What makes you think that? He enjoys all kinds of freedoms.

We do not prevent him from speaking.

There are no matches At Ginette's,

no trace of a lighter With Dédé.

They are like Proust, My verses.

I want a light!

What's with the yelling?

It's not really a poem...

"My captors live in Loir-et-Cher,

They don't have any manners there.

In winter they overhaul armaments,

And they plough the fields."

You describe circumstances.

I don't like it.

Forget about it. We agreed on this:

Blindfold, music, no contacts.

You're supposed to lie about us. Now you devote a poem to Ginette.

You tell our names, even name the area...

I can't let this pass.

Ask Ginette... - I will not do that.

I will simply forbid you to.

It's not as easy as that. - Oh, yes it is.

It's simple.

I played in a short film once.

I had to smoke constantly.

Within three days I was hooked.

Weird, the way you hold cigarettes. - I broke my finger, it won't bend.

It's hard to play the piano. But it can be compensated a bit.

Is the movie also to blame for your drinking?

No, some literature award is, where wine was served.

By the way, Michel,

you have spoken with my mother...

and you have told her about your next book?

Actually, she started about that.

I shouldn't tell you about it.

This is exactly the problem:

you always take one of us aside.

You want to turn us against each other.

Not at all.

What shouldn't you tell us? - What we just spoke about.

Things about the past, and which concern Dédé...

No idea why she mentioned that.

She tells you stuff about my father, she's not telling me?

I didn't ask her for it.

I am someone who keeps his promise.

How do you mean?

Well, Luc. You promised me something.

Namely a lighter. But then you took it from me.

I would never do such a thing. I always keep my word.

I will take your handcuffs off. - Okay.

Why are you doing this? - Because we are alone.

He's not an informer. I can appreciate that.

In the sixth grade I got an assignment,

to write a real poem.

Even at 44years, I still remember it.

The subject was hunting.

"Years and years may go by, but hunting I will never like.

I like the animals in the wild, we have no need to kill them.

I also love deer, hares, wild boars and stags,

when their beautiful herds wander through the lush green.

Can there be something more glorious than these wild creatures of nature?

How can we kill them in hunt?

Poor mothers feel heart pains, to be without their children.

Oh, the animals.

By me."

That's written by you? - And ends with "by me"?

Yes. Because I'm the author.

You were a great nature lover.

Truly sensitive to nature.

Fuck you all. Deeply.

We didn't mock you.

A friend of mine is an environmentalist...

Hold on, please.

Can you do it better, you bigmouth?

Could you do it better at 14?

Were you better?

Not at that age.

You were in the sixth grade at 14?

I came from Israel and went directly into sixth grade.

What's so funny?

Because he was in the sixth with 14.

Everyone has a story.

That's so typical of you. - He can't help it.

That's why I got at him yesterday.

No need to worry.

Some kind of germ.

I think it was the Bolognese sauce.

On the other hand, we all ate from it.

It's not only the fatigue, more violent attacks of pain.

Do you have a sore throat? - No.

Do you cough a lot? You are a heavy smoker...

by the looks of that ashtray. - I do not cough.

Your heartbeat is a bit high.

Please sit up.

You smoke a lot...

Let's see what I can find.

Nothing special to see. Does this hurt?

What do you do to get some exercise?

Not much.

Don't you want to take part in some sports?

What do you think is better: bodybuilding or free-fight?

Rather bodybuilding. - I thought so too.

The problem is either fatigue, or something psychosomatic...

or a tumor, or abscess. - I beg your pardon?

Just now you said it was just a germ.

I'm not talking about you, or about your dog's parasites.

But about Michel. - Oh.

Who says there's no child? Although...

If you had a kid, you'd know about it.

I'm not sure...

Would you have liked to have one?

Wouldn't you? - I don't know...

Wasn't a former girlfriend supposedly pregnant from you?

Your situation surely is not very pleasant...

Perhaps this makes you so depressed?

And unstable.

Well, do you have any children?

Maybe...

You could have fatherly feelings.

In a man's life it really counts.

If you're a father...

Cheer up! - Don't, Maxime.

To all the children we either had, or hadn't.

Will you pour me another? - That sounds better.

Bottoms up! - Up, Maxime!

Tears demand some respect.

Here, Michel!

To all our children!

When you break out in tears...

at a certain point...

then...

because you know a word will soon come,

that's terrible to be said.

For me that was also the word "father".

I just wrote a poem,

in which the word "father" occurred.

Out of sheer emotion I could not go on.

I just understood: that word scared me.

What was with your father?

I'd better not get into details about it.

No children, and an absent father...

So, we have something in common in our lives.

I wasn't really armed well for certain things...

When you say that you weren't well-armed

it makes me think of the poet Mallarmé.

No pun.

You and your reading and him with his bodybuilding-blah:

I wonder if it's a substitute for not having any kids?

You might not be far off.

I just want to understand it. - It is short of the truth.

But not entirely wrong. - Everything can be interpreted.

You could see it that way.

Thank God for my children.

Author or "Boudabuilding" they're both not my thing.

It's not "Boudabuilding".

You always mess up all your words.

You might also benefit from a trip to a psychiatrist.

I've tried that.

After two sessions the guy refused to see me again.

How old are you, Fatima?

Twenty one.

And you?

What do you think?

50... 55.

55, right.

My age doesn't bother me.

Ginette told me that your father is a piano teacher.

He's not my father, my step-father.

Do you get along with him?

Sure.

Are you going to be here for long?

I haven't the slightest idea.

The guys here constantly change their plans, it seems.

What do you do for a living?

He asks if Fatima can stay around.

At least that keeps him busy.

The doctor told him to relax, and that's what he is doing.

This works out well.

Good day. - Good day, Dédé.

Are you fine? - Thank you.

Is everything okay? Where is Mathieu?

Over there. He's asleep.

Why's the tie?

Because of today.

Come.

Good day.

Good day. This way.

To the right.

After you.

I've seen you before.

Was it in a terrorist process? - That's quite possible.

Were you treated well? - Yes.

Yes, I'd have to say.

I have some good news:

You are going to be free.

Do you understand? - Yes.

My client is considering... - Your what?

My client is considering to compensate you for your troubles.

I see.. Who is your client?

I can not say.

Is it possible for you to say who paid the ransom?

I can not answer that.

The others said that it was François Hollande.

Certainly not. - Of course not.

I never believed it would be him.

You seem very weak to me. - Yes, I have hardly moved.

With these handcuffs you are very limited.

You can tell...

...your clients, from me, that I'm not complaining.

Can I use your table? - Of course.

There. That should settle it.

Would you like a coffee? - Not necessary, thanks.

I'll show you out.

There are weeds.

Watch out for the thorns.

Whoa Daddy! That's a shotgun!

Champagne!

Well, Ginette, I will be going then.

I'll miss you.

That's so nice of you to say.

I want to thank you for...

making my captivity pleasant.

I have done what I could.

With the boys it's not always that easy.

You've a beautiful place here.

A nice and quiet spot.

It is pleasant here.

To be honest I would have liked to stay here longer.

Really! Does that surprise you?

Yes, very much.

Since there is a container next to your employee's...

Couldn't I rent it for a weekend now and then?

What do you want?

After all this time we know each other well.

That's right.

And then there's the poem. - Right.

I'll take it with me when I come next time.

Give him a bottle of that liquor for it,

the one he likes.

I see. - Plum brandy.

You had it before. - It is excellent.

You have praised it well. - It's the best I ever had.

I could easily get used to it...

We have to go, Michel. - Okay.

I'm coming, Luc.

Let me kiss you.

Goodbye, Michel. You'll be good, hopefully.

Goodbye, André. - Goodbye, and see you soon.

Yes, see you soon.

See you later, Ginette. Bye, Dédé.

Michel, I can now take off your blindfold.

Shall we smoke one? - Yes.

In a democracy, for me...

the legislature has to come from the people.

By petitions.

Everything has to be decided by referendum from the people.

Otherwise it's not even a parody of a democracy.

The function of Europe is

to prevent any real democracy

and to form an expert government.

You think Europe's bad? - I'm against it.

For the reasons I mentioned, I'm against it.

Europe will never be a democracy. Democracy is the way of future.

Europe is a regression.

Soon as representatives are elected, all democracy stops existing.

But the French are free. - Do you really think so?

I'm not so sure.

Hopefully everything will end with a riot.

With what? - A revolt.

I think Brussels would be a great place for civil war.

At the moment there is no real democracy.

Maybe, to some extent, at best in Switzerland.

Or in Holland, or Sweden. - No.

Sweden is one of the most anti-democratic countries.

The purest dictatorship.

Zero freedom of thought. It's worse than France.

Can I drive the car back for a little, perhaps?

It's beautiful. - You think so?

It is yours.

It is your compensation. Your share.

Can you put on some music?

Sure.

How fast are you driving, Michel?

220.

250.