All language subtitles for Les Demoiselles de Rochefort 1967.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

THE YOUNG GIRLS OF ROCHEFORT

Screenplay, Dialogue, and Songs by
JACQUES DEMY

FRIDAY MORNING

Set up here?

That’s all for today, children.

Good-bye, ma’am.

And don’t forget
your costumes tomorrow.

Delphine, come look.
They’re here.

They’re setting up on the square.

The girls won’t be ready.
We’ll rehearse Sunday.

- No need to.
- Think so?

We are a pair of twins
born in the sign of Gemini

Mi fa so la mi re
Re mi fa so so so re do

We’re two demoiselles
who took to the boys long ago

Mi fa so la mi re
Re mi fa so so so re do

Our mama
brought us up on her own

Working herself all her life
to the bone

To make sure
our minds could expand

She’s spent all her time
behind a French-fry stand

Papa was somebody
that we never knew

But when we undress
one thing is true

In the small of our backs,
in the very same place

There’s the same beauty spot
he had on his face

We are a pair of twins
born in the sign of Gemini

Who love catchy tunes,
silly puns, and repartee

We’re a pair
of carefree young things

Waiting for the joys
that love brings

- When our blood races
- When our heart stops

We’re ready to shout it
from the rooftops

We are delicate souls,
two romantics

In love with art,
music, and antics

Where’s that man?
The man we long to find

Mr. Right. . .
A few faults we won’t mind

We are a pair of twins
born in the sign of Gemini

With our feet on the ground
we have flights of fantasy

Teaching piano
is making me turn pale

I’ve had it up to here
with the sound of bad scales

I’m bored
with these provincial ways

It’s Paris for me
where art really pays

Dancing lessons
are starting to get me down

My chance is in Paris too,
not in this town

Why teach pliés
and pirouettes all day

When I could be
in the Opéra Ballet?

We are a pair of twins
born in the sign of Gemini

Two hearts, four eyes
ready to rhapsodize

Quarter to 12:00!
I’m late.

Delphine, pick up Booboo?

- Can’t you?
- I’ll go at 4:00.

I can’t wear this!
Sure, I can... No, I can’t.

Guillaume will be waiting.

- What’s he want?
- To see me.

Let him wait.

You coming home for lunch?

Yes, but not before 1:00.

Where’s my compact?
Here it is.

We play the cello,
the trumpet, and the banjo

We love catchy tunes,
silly puns, and repartee

With our feet on the ground
we have flights of fantasy

We are a pair of twins
born in the sign of Gemini

See you later.

- Where you off to?
- The café.

Wait for us.

Fries?

Two orders of fries.

- Fair time?
- We just arrived.

- It’ll boost business.
- No need for that.

- We’re going for a walk.
- Not now!

We’re not on call.

What slackers!

- How you treat your ladies!
- They aren’t our ladies... not really.

Performers?

The blond does an Indian shimmy,
the redhead a Chinese shimmy.

- It’s harder.
- How interesting.

He’s the boss.
I’m his right-hand man, a mechanic.

- Hello, Yvonne.
- Hello, Maxence.

Hello, Josette.
Hello, Gramps.

- Still abstract?
- More than ever.

He was born that way.

In three days I’ll be discharged.

- A Clacquesin.
- We’re out.

Aren’t we?
- But he can order something else.

A beer.

- So did you find her?
- Not yet, but I can wait.

A beer for Maxence.

- Did he find her?
- Not yet.

- What’d he lose?
- His feminine ideal.

He never found her
to begin with.

He painted her. He’s a painter-poet.
He’s stationed here.

We all seek our feminine ideal.
He’s not the only one.

Don’t be so sad, Maxence.
Girls are a dime a dozen.

I’ve searched all over for her
I’ve sailed the seven seas

From Venice to Java,
from Manila to Angkor

There was Jeanne and Victoria,
Venus and Mona Lisa

I haven’t found her yet
I seek her even more

I don’t know what she’s like
and yet her image is clear

I have a name for her
Her voice is in my ear

I’ve sketched her silhouette,
the face I’m dreaming of

The portrait that I’ve done
is the very image of love

She is as gracious
as only romantic girls can be

A Botticelli beauty
with such eyes, such poise

In profile she’s like
those virgins of mythology

Who haunt museum galleries
and the dreams of teenage boys

Her stride is so much like
a childhood memory

That passes before my mind’s eye
lilting, dreamily

Her hair pours down her brow
like torrents of pure gold

Round which wind, sea, and sun
quarrel for a hold

I could tell you
of her hands, of her eyes

I could go on and on
until the next sunrise

She is my only love,
but what good is a dream?

I’ve searched all over,
but she’s nowhere to be seen

He could tell us
of her hands, of her eyes

He could go on and on
until the next sunrise

She is his only love,
but what good is a dream?

He’s searched all over,
but she’s nowhere to be seen

Can she be far?
Or is she close to me?

I couldn’t say,
but I know she does exist

Is she a wicked girl?
Or born to royalty?

Her pedigree means nothing,
because I am an artist

And love is the sole authority

N ice portrait,
but no one like that here.

- No, no one.
- I prefer redheads.

- Heavens! Have you seen Delphine?
- No, ma’am.

I bet she forgot
to pick up Booboo.

Could you go, Maxence?

I’m already late for maneuvers.

I have to set the tables.

- I’m sorry.
- Never mind.

Bye, Gramps.

Could you two gentlemen go?
The school’s just around the corner.

Sure, we don’t mind.

You’re sweet.
Just ask for Booboo.

- Who?
- Booboo. He’s my son, my youngest.

I’m afraid I can never get out.

I’m confined to this aquarium.

Me, who was meant to live
in the open air on the Pacific shore...

listening to sweet music
and reading poetry.

Yvonne, I’m out of glue.

Could you buy some glue
on the way? Thanks.

Hi, Delphe!

You’re filthy! Look at you!
And in your new pants!

- Are you Booboo?
- Why do you ask?

We came to pick up Booboo.

- Says who?
- The lady in the café.

- What nerve!
- We’re on the up-and-up.

We came with the fair.

I bet you did.

- You’re quite pretty.
- So I’ve been told.

- You’ll split your dress.
- Quiet.

So do we take the kid?

- I wanna go with them.
- Are you kidnappers?

- We wouldn’t say if we were.
- Smart aleck!

Actually, it suits me fine,
because – never mind.

Behave yourself.

Bye, pumpkin.

- Your aunt’s swell.
- She’s my sister.

She’s a honey!

I want some candy.

We gonna stand here all day?

Hello, dear rose.

You’re lovely, dear soul.
- By "soul" you mean my body.

You’re so right, dear heart.

If I weren’t so in love with you,
I’d be jealous.

But I love you,
and that fills me with pride...

and craving,
since I want you.

I inspire your baser feelings.

And gluttony and lust.

And prattle.
You love to hear yourself talk.

Myself and yourself.
I love you.

Is that why
you wanted to see me?

You don’t love me,
but you’ll marry me.

I already said no, Guillaume.

- Then why do you come?
- You’re so entertaining.

But if you prefer,
I’ll stop coming.

Why, that’s me!

Yes, dear rose.

Since when do you pose
for soldiers?

Soldiers?
What’s this nonsense?

Who painted that?
- I told you: a soldier.

Calls himself a painter and poet.
Get the picture? Know him?

- An uncanny likeness, don’t you think?
- Mere coincidence.

- But it’s me all over!
- No, it’s just figurative.

You’re spiritual, dear soul.

It’s a worthless picture,
pure fantasy.

He modestly calls it
Feminine Ideal.

He must really love me
to dream me up like this. What’s he like?

Dull, insignificant.

I want to meet him.

Sorry. He just left for Paris.

But he’s not your type at all.

You think you know me
You like to talk a lot

But really you do not not not...

You don’t know how I feel
If you did know, you’d reel

You’ll never know

I know how you think

You’ll never know
what tickles me pink pink pink

What makes me play
or why I dream night and day

I’m just a doll in your gallery

What did you ever see in me?

You find my chatter
tedious and dumb

You couldn’t care less
if I’m cheerful or glum

Doubts are something
you don’t show

I’m a fool,
whether I say yes or no no no

You say, "I live only for money"
and then you say you love me

If you really loved me. . .

But I tell you every day –

If you really love me
as you say say say

When you tire of me, you say,
"Excuse me, time is money! "

But time for me is love,
my friend

It’s laughter and song
until the day’s end

And love each night
since creation

Time is love
Life is celebration

So. . . so stop thinking
I’ll be your prize

You lie when
you sentimentalize, lies, lies. . .

Buy other girls a drink
You’ll find love for the price of a mink

Then you’ll forget me

- It’s simpler than you think
- Any girl will give you a wink wink wink

It may be a girl with velvety voice,
but love for her is on an invoice

Excuse me for being so blunt
I won’t put feelings up front

Let’s not drag it out for both our sakes
Let’s make it a friendly break

Farewell, Guillaume.

Good-bye, dear heart.

Your eyes are the same blue
as in that picture.

- I can’t help it.
- Aren’t they?

You like blue eyes,
so you can tell.

I’ve never seen
anything like them.

How odd! It can’t be abstract
if it resembles his eyes.

Which aren’t abstract,
so that picture sees you as I do...

Look, Mom.

- You shouldn’t have!
- It’s nothing.

Thanks.

- Here you go, Gramps.
- How kind of you.

- Will you have a drink?
- Why not?

We met a knockout blond.

- Your sister.
- I don’t have a sister.

- He means Delphe.
- Delphine... my daughter.

- She’s a peach.
- So are you.

So I’ve been told.

S.O.S.! Storm at sea!

Be quiet, Booboo.

Hello, Dutrouz.

Hello, everyone.

They’re friends.
Subtil Dutrouz.

"Subtil" like a scent,
Dutrouz with a silent Z.

- Bill as in "billiards."
- Etienne, like everyone else.

- Here, for you.
- What is it?

A plastic atomic submarine.

- How’s it holding?
- Fine.

That’s good.

I just saw them tramping by,
armed to the teeth.

They’d shoot us like rabbits.

- What’ll you have?
- Nothing. I’m off.

I’ll be back later.

- Who’s that?
- A friend of Gramps’.

- What’s he do?
- He’s retired.

- What exactly do you do?
- Us?

We go from place to place
with motorcycles to sell

Bikes and boats as well
The road’s our home base

- Today we’re here
- Tomorrow there

We live free as the air,
like boys without a care

On the move, having fun,
avoiding shadows for the sun

We prefer
what is sweet, not sour

A pretty girl,
not a wallflower

And pleasure, not despair

We flit from face to face,
like bees among the flowers

In every port a pretty girl,
in every town some tender hours

We live on the heady brine,
a baker’s loaf, a sip of wine

The morning haze,
the evening storm

A child’s smile to make us warm

The siesta at midday

Making love in the hay

The wind on our face

We go from town to town
The future’s an unknown

A pretty girl lends a hand
and life is grand

- Today here
- Tomorrow there

Our life’s a romance,
a melody composed by chance

Full of new delights

We prefer joy to misery

Intelligence to stupidity

Straight talk to hypocrisy

And gentle arms to gendarmes

We go from fair to fair
Folks point and stare

They call us carnies,
but poets are what we are

- Today we frown
- Tomorrow laugh

Life’s a double bill,
a tragedy of fate

A comedy of good will
As friends we will grow old

Knights without fear or blame
We haven’t a penny to our name

But our hearts
are made of gold

We go from place to place,
across rivers and valleys

They call us carnies
The road is our home base

- What’s wrong?
- I’m sad and bored.

You’re hiding something.

It’s over with Guillaume.

That’s good news.
I never liked the guy.

Know what I’m thinking?

Yes, about your dream man.

How’d you guess?

It’s simple, darling.

You have that "dream man"
look on your face.

I know nothing of him
and yet his image is clear

I have a name for him
His voice is in my ear

Often, when I dream,
I see the face I’m thinking of

The look in his eyes
is the very image of love

He is handsome
as only romantic men can be

Like divine Raphael,
his talent is heavenly

A philosopher
in love with democracy

And a poet
who rhymes endlessly

I could tell you
of his hands, of his eyes

I could go on and on
until the next sunrise

He is my only love,
but what good is a dream?

The illusion of love
is only love unseen

Is he near or far?
Could he be in Rochefort?

I’m sure to meet him
I know he does exist

Whatever reason says,
my heart tells me more

Its reign, its law
is something one can’t resist

And resist I never will

Sweetie, guys like that
don’t hang out in Rochefort.

Not right now.
He’s in Paris. He did my portrait.

Who is it?
You never mentioned him.

A painter.
I don’t know him.

He exists, and he loves me.

But I’ve never seen him.

- You’re ill.
- I’m serious.

- To Paris, then!
- And our pupils?

- Our careers first.
- Without money?

Never mind that.
For now we’re free.

We leave for Paris next week.

This afternoon
I’ll go see Mr. Dame –

What’s so funny?

Nothing.
That’s such a silly name.

He’s very nice.
And he knows Andrew Miller.

- Who’s that?
- I don’t know.

An American composer.
They went to school together.

Andrew Miller is giving
some recitals in Paris,

and Simon Dame
will tell him about me.

I mean, in a letter.
Then I’ll get Booboo.

No need to.
Mom sent two guys this morning.

I went for nothing.
Booboo left with them.

You let Booboo go off
with two strangers?

The town’s crawling with soldiers,
sadists, and unknown painters!

You’ll never get a man, old girl.

You were born 12 minutes later,
so don’t "old girl" me! As for men –

That’s it!
- What?

I’ve got the theme
for my concerto!

Good day, sisters.

Schubert’s "Ave Maria."

Here we are.

- Is that all?
- Yes, thank you.

Good-bye, Mr. Dame.

- Hello, Mr. Dame.
- Hello, miss.

Your music paper arrived.

I’m sorry about the delay.

Setting up this store
has taken a lot out of me.

Rochefort isn’t Paris,
and I haven’t adapted yet.

It looks really nice.

I’ve tried to recreate
a musical atmosphere.

Now, where did I put it?
Here it is.

Ready for the fair?
- The girls rehearse daily.

I wrote a little piece for them,

a three-part chorale in C minor.

How much is it?

Twelve francs.

Please call me Simon.

Really?

My name’s so silly.

I’m called Solange.

The key of so

and the flight of angels.
The name suits you.

I have a favor to ask.

Go ahead.

I plan to go to Paris
next week.

You hinted last Tuesday

that you could
recommend me to your friend,

Andrew Miller, the composer.

Andy? Certainly.

I haven’t seen him
since conservatory days.

After school
Andrew went back to the States

and found fame and fortune.

Life’s come between us.

You’re in luck – he’s in France.
I’ll write to him right away.

I’m sure he can help you.

You’ll become a great composer,
Solange. A great composer.

I hope so.

I have the third movement
for my concerto in F sharp minor.

Would you care to hear it?
- With pleasure.

Admirable!

What texture, originality, passion!
What force! What lyricism!

I like it a lot too.

- When do you leave?
- Monday, after the fair.

Please don’t take this
the wrong way...

but when my fiancée
left 10 years ago,

I felt the same twinge
in my heart.

Your fiancée?

It was because of her
that I left Paris.

I moved here last month
to relive my memories.

Does she live in Rochefort?

No, Mexico.

But we met here.

It’s an unusual story
for an ordinary man like me.

My fiancée
found my name a bad joke

I think it even shocked her,
and one day I awoke

To find she’d left me
without a word, without a sign

I haven’t laid eyes on her
in 10 years’ time

She had told me
one night so tenderly

That we were soon to be
no longer two but three

It fills a man with pride
It’s woman’s greatest claim

But she couldn’t stand
being called Madame Dame

Yet she cared for me
and I called her my muse

But I had no idea –
how poets will be amused! –

That a name like mine
could shame and irritate

I didn’t understand
until it was too late

I was a handsome fellow
and she a sweet young thing

She hadn’t planned it
but had already mothered twins

I never met the girls,
who were always out of sight

They went to boarding school
and never came home at night

A few years later
I met a mutual friend

Who told me some foreigner
had married her in the end

And taken her away
to a place in Mexico

To live romantically
in a seaside bungalow

So here I am alone,
a lover in despair

I came to see this city
since I’d met her here

I decided not to leave
and here I plan to stay

Living with my memories
and my heart at bay

- You never saw her again?
- Never.

She must be living it up
in Acapulco.

She worshipped the sun.

Here I am going on and on!

I’ll write to Andy.
I hope he hasn’t forgotten me.

- Maybe he got a swell head.
- What?

He may be pretentious.

No, Andy was a bright fellow.

I’m sure you’ll like him.

4:00 already!

I doubt she’ll come.

The kid can’t walk home alone.

Excuse me.

Let the young lady by.

- Hi, Solange.
- Hi, pumpkin.

Your slip’s showing.

Fighting again! Look at you!

You naughty boy!

- Hi, Booboo.
- Ah, you’re here?

- What do you want?
- We’ve come to pick up Booboo.

These are my buddies.

We’re here with the fair.

- When do you leave?
- Monday.

Then bon voyage!

Miss, your slip is showing.

So I’ve been told.

Your aunt’s not very nice.

She’s my sister.

She sure has changed.

Come on, skip it.

They buy me candy.

I’ll get you licorice.

I want to go with them!

Then no licorice!

I’m sorry.

Don’t mention it.

- Are you a musician?
- Yes.

Good-bye.

Miss, your slip is showing.

I know, but it doesn’t matter.

Miss...

may I see you again?

I don’t know.

I don’t think so.

Come on.

That guy’s got some nerve.

Say, that’s in G minor!

I’m in love, I am

Lucky you!

I do what I can

I come to Rochefort
to see a friend

Simon Dame,
he lives out this end

But I meet a girl
and I go crazy

The girl’s gone
but love’s fazed me

It took a trip
across two continents

It took
this one amazing chance

To change my life
and give it sense

It took my coming back
to France

- Ready?
- We can’t go without saying good-bye.

My heart’s racing.
- That’s normal.

Look: First, I’ve had it.
Second, they exploit us.

Third, I don’t love Etienne.
Fourth, Bill’s eyes aren’t blue.

Fifth, adventure beckons.
And sixth –

Here they come.

What’s with you?

Can’t you see?
We’re leaving.

- What?
- We’re leaving.

- With who?
- Two sailors.

Don’t whine. It’s pointless.

They’re dumb.

We love them,
but that’s not the worst.

We give them a golden opportunity,
and they cut out before a show.

And for who? Sailors!

Sailors give us a better time
than all your carnies combined

- Sailors aren’t the marrying kind
- But as lovers they’re just fine

As friend, lover, or husband,
sailors are absent all the time

Chance often does things right,
but it got its wires crossed

With the faded roses it tossed
on the bed of our lonely nights

Well, if our bed of roses
is now just full of thorns

And your heart is now sea-born,
what can I say or propose?

Shall I shoot you and mourn?
Or die broken and morose?

You had what it takes to please:
your nose, mouth, brow, and hair

If only your eyes were blue
I could have died for you

If my eyes, dear marquise,
are not worth dying for

And a sailor boy can offer more,
what can I say to please?

Should I go down on my knees?

Should I die of jealousy?

You mustn’t hold a grudge
or I’ll get all teary-eyed

My makeup is going to smudge
I’m already bleary-eyed

My makeup is going to smudge
I’m already bleary-eyed

Fly away, turtledoves
Get along to your tropics

Since our eyes are not topics
to make you melt with love

Go on then, my lovelies

Good sailing and good loving

You thought it over?

We flit from face to face
like bees among the flowers

Today we’re here,
tomorrow there

For us life’s a cinch

Braque, Picasso,
Klee, Miró, Matisse –

that’s life!

Sure, life!

But how do you manage?

Don’t tell me
you paint in the barracks.

No one paints in barracks.

I have a room in town.
It’s my studio.

Every night I go AWOL,
and I go home and paint.

Next week I go to Paris,
and in six months, a show.

- If you’re released.
- That’s not funny.

There’s trouble everywhere,
like in ’39.

That’s how it started in ’39.

I saw you this morning
doing your clown act.

We were on maneuvers.
Think I enjoy it?

Cut it out!

Next week I’m a civilian.
Freedom!

Monday.
Right, Yvonne?

It’s sad to see everyone leave.

Why everyone?

No special reason.

Reminds me of my past.

It’s none of your business,
of course.

You’ll break that chair.

A past love, I suppose?

What else?

It was...

a secret passion.

I never told anyone.

No one ever found out.

Not even my daughters.

The daughters
you’re always going on about!

I’d like to meet them.
- Hush up!

And this passion went sour,
if I get your meaning.

My fiancé had a name
that was grating to the ear

An irritating name
that was more than I could bear

So I went and left him
without a word, without a sign

It’s been 10 years now
since his path diverged from mine

I had told him
one night so tenderly

That we were soon to be
no longer two but three

It’s a woman’s greatest claim
It fills a man with pride

Booboo, the poor dear,
would soon be by my side

He was a handsome fellow
and I a sweet young thing

Even though I had twins
before I met him

He never met the girls
I kept them out of sight

They went to boarding school
and never came home at night

A few years later,
through a mutual friend

I let him know
that some tycoon from Mexico

Had offered me his hand
and a beachside bungalow

It was bitter lie,
pathetic duplicity

So here I am alone,
and my youth is long gone

I came to see this town
where the only love I’d known

Had seen the day
I settled here permanently

Living amid memories,
my life’s debris

You don’t know
what became of him?

No. He’s probably in Paris.

You should try and find him.

What was this monster’s name?

Dame. Simon Dame.

I’d have become
Madame Dame. Absurd!

He was a bastard!

Not at all, Papa.
Calm down.

A bastard!

Maybe so,
but he had a charming name.

"Madame Dame."

It’s amusing.

- So I did wrong?
- I didn’t say that.

- Shall we?
- It’s figurative?

I told you:
It’s my only figurative work.

The abstracts are at camp.

You coming with us?

To see my feminine ideal.
- Where?

On show at Guillaume Lancien’s gallery.
Around the corner.

Sorry, I really can’t.

- You snub my work.
- No, I don’t.

So long. Coming?

- You’ve been crying.
- Not at all.

Don’t lie. I can tell.

- I like your hat.
- So do I.

Is that all that’s new?

I’m flustered:
I just met my dream man.

Otherwise, we’re working.

I haven’t seen Delphine
in three days.

We’re hard at work.

Next week we’re off to Paris.

I’ll work with the philharmonic,
and Delphine the Opéra.

We’re not going to rot here.
- Well, you’re big girls now.

Dutrouz’s right:
There’s trouble everywhere.

Why this urge
to fight all the time?

I forgot my beret.

So long, Maxence.

Who’s that?

Maxence. A painter
doing his military service.

Get down!
I told you not to walk on the tables!

Leaving already?

I’m going home.
Bye, Mom.

Come for dinner tomorrow.
Dutrouz will be there.

- Who’s Dutrouz?
- You don’t know him?

A friend of Gramps’
from back in ’24.

They met last week
for the first time in 40 years.

- See you tomorrow.
- Till then.

You again?

Your sister’s charming.

- That’s my daughter.
- Her too?

I had twins by a first lover,
but they’re not identical.

Then I had Booboo,
much later.

Another lover.

Be polite.
I’m not in the mood.

We aren’t either.
We’ve got trouble.

- Is that so?
- The girls left us.

- The girls?
- The ones you saw this morning.

They do a number for us –
not bad, in fact – to draw customers.

The Asian shimmy.

That’s right.
So now we’re up the creek.

You won’t find anyone here
to do an Asian shimmy.

That... or something else.

Your daughters could help us.

Don’t count on it.

They can dance, no?

Delphine dances.

Solange sol-fa’s.
She writes music. She can dance too.

But they won’t do it.
- You don’t think so?

I’m sure of it.

With their talent,
they’re not going to rot here.

Next week they’re off to Paris.

What’ll it be?
- White wine?

Two glasses.

It wouldn’t hurt to ask.

- It’s worth a try.
- Nothing ventured...

Oh, my God!

One of Booboo’s pranks.

That’s her.

Your ideal?

I once knew a young lady

who looked a bit like that.

A dancer.

This was 40 years ago.

But she was a brunette,
with short hair.

- Then not at all alike.
- Not really.

A slight resemblance here.

But I don’t know
anyone like that.

You won’t find that sort
in Rochefort.

I’ve searched for her
I’ve traveled countless miles

From Bali to Lima,
across the South Sea isles

From deep river beds
to beds where young girls smile

I keep running after her,
hoping all the while

Just knowing she’s alive
makes her my beacon fire

Knowing she’s out there
fills me with more desire

Than all the naked girls
in my wildest fantasies

I’ve looked everywhere
I’ve sailed the seven seas

Can she be far?
Is she close to me?

I couldn’t say,
but I know that she exists

Is she a wicked girl
or born to royalty?

A movie celebrity

Or a simple florist?

I know she’ll belong to me

That’s all, children.

I met my dream man!

Where?

In the street.

Tell me.

I picked up Booboo at school
He was whining and being a fool

He threw a tantrum in the street
He slammed his bag down at his feet

There I am, with bikes wheeling round
Picking up notebooks from the ground

When I hear a masculine sigh
I look up to see this beautiful guy

He pours words
in my ear like honey

Humming like a swarm
of playful bees

I look at him
His eyes take me in

My heart goes into a spin

He’s dark, with an intelligent air,
streaks of grey in his hair

Like a shepherd or troubadour
It was like a concerto overture

His languid gaze
says more than I can tell

We’re both caught
in the same spell

Booboo’s waiting
Traffic’s rolling still

But time has stopped
for our idyll

But we really have to part
My handsome stranger gives a start

He says, his emotion growing,
"Excuse me, but your slip is showing"

And that was all

Is he near or far?
Can he be in Rochefort?

I’ll find him
because I know that he exists

I know what reason says,
but my heart can tell me more

Its reign, its law
is something no one can resist

And resist I never will

Surely a foreigner or a tourist.

- Why? Did he have an accent?
- I don’t remember.

A camera?

So why an American?

I said a foreigner,
not an American.

Not all foreigners are American.

But they’re often tourists.

Good Lord!
What if it’s him?

It’s Jules and Jim!

You two again!
You know them?

Yes, we’ve met.

Don’t stand there in the doorway.
I’m cold.

What do you want?

- Well, your mother, Yvonne –
- Yeah, right!

- Let them talk.
- Yes, let us talk.

Your mother, Yvonne,
said you were going to Paris.

That’s right.

- And you needed someone to take you.
- We never said that.

Anyway, we can take you.

- In the truck?
- There are bunks.

I can see it now.

- We’re serious.
- What a come-on!

Well... is that all?

- We want to make a deal.
- But not in the doorway.

Take these.

Well?

- Tell them. After all, it’s your idea.
- But you’re the boss.

We’re in no hurry.

Well...

to liven up our stand at the fair,
we thought –

Well, it was Bill’s idea.

We thought that maybe

you could do a number –
something lively.

A number?

- They think we’re strippers.
- Obviously.

The fact is,
the artists we hired

left us high and dry
at the last minute,

and we need –

- Stand-ins.
- Just like that.

That’s right.

So... are you interested?

Interested isn’t the word.
But we’ll think it over.

We’re quite busy
at the moment.

Does that mean yes or no?

- What do you think?
- But what do they want?

- Something lively.
- You said that already.

Something in this vein?

In Hamburg, port of call,
on a rain-slicked street

Three sailors and love meet
and go to the losers’ ball

It’s a foursome on the town
when three girls on the make

Meet losers on a round
on the street of heartbreak

In Hamburg, port of call,
three sailors from the East

Talk of romance’s thrall
as if they believed it all

As if for that price

The girls of the waterfront
would give these sailor boys

All the love they want

How was that?

- Depressing.
- And old as the hills.

We’ve had it
with sailors, girls, and boats.

We get the message.

- Our song?
- They’ll like that.

We are a pair of twins
born in the sign of Gemini

With our feet on the ground
We have flights of fantasy

Give us a happy start
Give us harmony

Give it heart
and a touch of sorcery

Let it burst with joy
Let it glow with energy

Give us a song
Give us fantasy

Want us to dance too?
Modern or classic?

Something to prance to
or more romantic?

Would you like Mozart?
Would you like Stravinsky?

Johann Sebastian Bach?

Or maybe Boguslawski?

Louis Armstrong? Ellington?

Count Basie or Hampton?

Or maybe you’d prefer

Michel Legrand?

- Sing of love
- Or even hate

Just make it bright

- Sing today
- Dance tonight

Sing of light

Dance for joy
Sing of wind

Sing of sun and of rain

- Fire us
- Inspire us

Enchant and astonish us

Hang out the streamers of sun
Paint it all the color of delight

Drape every facade in light
Build bonfires of pleasures and fun

Why waste time?
Why push me away?

You’ll be my wife. . .

Why a seaside bungalow?

Why a millionaire from Mexico?

You can’t whine
till your dying day

The harmony’s sublime

What a paradigm

Where are the pretty hands
that wrote these notes?

Must I never see her again?

Why love on some Pacific shore

When it’s right here in my store?

And at the same time

A true stroke of chance

Find my great romance

The very day I leave

- Passion
- Spirit

- Love
- Folly

- Genius
- Joy

Life and happiness

SATU RDAY MORN I NG

You’re alone?

Josette took Booboo to school.
Gramps is still asleep.

Going somewhere?
- I have two days of leave left.

I’m going home to Nantes.
My leave’s immi-Nantes!

Aren’t you funny!

Give me a beer.

I’ll be back Monday morning
in time to pack my bags.

Then it’s so long, Rochefort.

Someone butchered a dame
by the château in Etiquette Lane

A wicker basket found today
contained the pieces of Pélagie Rosier

Ex-Folies Bergère chorine
and one-time beauty queen

Aged 60, she won hurrahs
under her stage name Lola-Lola

She nailed audiences to their seat
before bringing them to their feet

The basket’s open, the case is too
Police won’t say if there’s a clue

No stone will be left unturned
until the slasher’s name is learned

Ever heard of Lola-Lola?

I’ve never known any dancers.

Here comes Josette.

What kept you?

There was a police cordon
near school where I left your son

A sadist’s on the loose
Some think he’s a mystical recluse

Everyone’s in an uproar
It seems he used an ax or a saw

He cut her into bits
and laid her out like a puzzle kit

It was all impeccable,
the feet below

Horrors! No!

They say they’ll get the man
We must remain as calm as we can

- I’ll have a look, then catch my train
- He’s on immi-Nantes leave!

- Until Monday
- Your gear

- Good-bye, friends
- Bon voyage

- A rotten crime, a filthy skunk!
- Yet he put away the pieces in a trunk

- Be so good as to move along
- Please don’t get us wrong

Don’t make us
club you on the ear

The blood came out to here

It was a sweet old
white-haired sister

- It boggles the mind
- Blonds are my kind

Well, thanks a lot, mister

Don’t get angry
I prefer blonds

But it’s not because
your hair’s red

That I’d take an ax
to your head

- Would the sadist be you?
- Heavens, no. And you?

- Teach music is what I like to do
- Abstract art is my conceit

But my ambition’s more concrete:
I’m looking for the ideal woman

I did a painting of her though
Come see it at my studio

- We can maybe do a séance
- Good old Maxence !

- How d’you know my name?
- Mom mentioned it when you came

Yesterday to the café
I’m Solange Garnier

- Ah, you’re the twin, right?
- You might be more polite

- Where’re you headed?
- Train to catch

I’m off to Nantes
My leave’s immi-Nantes

That didn’t make you laugh one bit
- That’s bargain-basement wit

Don’t take it out on me

So long
Another time, maybe

Excuse me, sir

I’m looking
for a certain piano store

- I never buy any
- But that’s plain silly!

Painting’s more in my chords
I play on canvas, not keyboards

Well, music is my line
But I think painting, too, is fine

I’ll tell you what I think
You and I are in the pink

I’ve really got to run
I’ve got a train at 1:00

My leave is immi-Nantes

Immi-Nantes leave!

That’s one I can’t believe!

- Sorry, miss
- Excuse me, sir

I’m so remiss

Let me help
Are you hurt?

No, but if you’re in a rush,
no need to make a fuss

I don’t mean to be a pain

But I’ve been searching in vain
for a guy named Dame

Who has a piano store

What a silly name!

- Nice man, though
- I don’t say no

- But it’s funny all the same
- That’s not why I came

A name tells you nothing
It’s like a face

I may look dumb,
but I’m no basket case

It’s not that I’m so giddy
I’ve been on a shopping spree

But I’m a nice girl at heart

Oh, yes, you’re looking for
your friend’s music store

Turn left here
Then take the second right

Thanks for the precious tip

Sorry, I have to run
I have an appointment at 1:00

- Hi, pumpkin! What’s that there?
- Nothing, just a tear

- Why all the boxes?
- Our costumes, fit for a queen

- Quick! Let me see!
- So simple, they suit us to a T

- Nifty! - Naughty!
- I’m hungry!

- We’re going, just wait a minute more
- Won’t we look a bit like whores?

Funny, the idea
never occurred to me

Hello, M r. Dame.

Y es...?

Don’t you recognize me?

I’m afraid, sir...

Andy!

I’ll be damned!
I’m unforgivable.

Why, I often think of you.

I even wrote
to your Paris agent yesterday.

- Have I changed that much?
- Not at all.

But I never expected to see you
in my shop after all these years.

Ten years.
- Yep, ten years.

It’s nice here. Peaceful.

You live alone?

What about Yvonne?

She never came back.

But why this honor?

I’m on a concert tour of Europe.

I was in Paris yesterday
and thought of you.

My agent told me you were here,
so here I am.

I’m so glad to see you.

I really admire your work.

What success!
Truly fabulous.

Even during conservatory days
your talent was obvious.

You knew what you wanted,
and you got it.

That’s true.

When I was a boy,
I dreamed of conquering the world

In my thoughts,
notes and scales swirled

For me, a piano chord
had infinite charm

For a fortissimo
I’d have given my right arm

For a symphony
I’d have sold my brother

For a melody
I’d have betrayed my mother

Music was my whole life,
you see

And no person
could get through to me

Today I have everything
I yearned for

Fame, talent, money, and more

I’m flattered,
worshipped, dehumanized

Stupidity has left me
demoralized

I’d have liked
to fight for true treasures

I’d sacrifice it all
for tender pleasures

I didn’t have love,
but love is here today

Every since
that girl came my way

Can she be far?
Is she near to me?

I never saw her again
but I know now she exists

Is she chaste?
Or does she live fast and free?

Her virtue means nothing
because I am an artist

And love is the sole authority

So you’re disappointed
and in love?

Not disappointed,
but wise and in love.

For all that,
will you stay in Rochefort?

I can’t.
I play in Paris tomorrow.

But I’ll be back next week.

I must find that girl.

Maybe you know her?

There are lots
of pretty girls here.

So you wrote to me?

Yes, about a young friend...

an admirer
who’d like to meet you.

She writes music.

I’ll say no more.
But you can help her. She deserves it.

- Are you in love?
- Maybe.

- Pretty?
- Much more.

Wow!

I’m so thrilled to see you.

Listen to this.
Tell me what you think.

I’ve heard that somewhere.

Nice, isn’t it?

Very.

I’ve heard it somewhere before.

But where?

- That’s odd! Where’s my concerto?
- You had it today, indeed a while ago.

But I put it in the usual place,
between my lipstick and eyeglass case.

Here comes Subtil Dutrouz.
You’ve all met. Have a seat, do.

- I don’t believe I know these girls.
- I spoke of them.

They’re my twin pearls.

I believe we’ve met someplace.

No, I never forget a face.

Upon my word, I’ve seen you somewhere
unless there’s a double of you out there.

- Delphine is a dancer.
- Doubtless, I’m wrong.

Solange is well versed in music
and song. You’re just in time.

But before you partake,
do us the honors and cut the cake.

I wouldn’t know how.

Are you being modest?

I shan’t decline if you insist.

Please do, Dutrouz.

- Maxence isn’t here, alas.
- He went home on a weekend pass.

He called his leave "immi-Nantes."
I had a good laugh.

- The pun’s inelegant.
- Who’s this joker?

A painter-poet.
A sailor who can do a portrait.

Does he love me?

It’s anyone’s guess.

I drink to your love and success.

To old times, so exotic!
Salonica! We met there, in aeronautics.

We met in Cherbourg, in front of a bar.
He’d been thrown out, drunk as a tar.

At the time, life was no joke.
I’d lost my job and was flat broke.

I got drunk.

- What a downer!
- Don’t be a snot!

- Don’t scratch.
- So what?

Hands on the table!
Enough champagne! He’s unbearable!

- I’m sure we’ve met somewhere before.
- We haven’t. Don’t insist anymore.

- Let the gentleman finish his story.
- Things weren’t hunky-dory.

I roamed through Cherbourg aimlessly
after spending six months at sea.

I knew a hairdresser in Cherbourg, Aimé.
He married a certain Mme Desnoyers.

A widow from Tours, or was it Orleans?
She was a mother, a one-time chorine.

I don’t know her.

No, it was Nantes, it seems.

- Is there any ice cream?
- Be quiet.

The dinner’s a bit dull.

How about a spectacle?
Do a number from your show.

- Without a piano, no.
- I’m feeling a bit out of tune.

- I haven’t seen your stage costume.
- Tomorrow.

But I won’t be at the fair.
I’m open on Sundays. I’m stuck here.

Leaving, then?

Alas, all good things
come to an end.

- We’re off as well. We start at dawn.
- Don’t get up. We’re going, we’re gone.

- Booboo’s sleeping the sleep of the just.
- With the bottle he drank, he must!

The sandman’s gone a bit insane.
He sprinkled Booboo with champagne.

Good night, dears.

How do I get this one
up the stairs?

SUNDAY

Ride, ride, ride!

Ride on air.
No stress, no cares.

For all tastes. At all prices.

- I messed up my eyes!
- They’re fine.

Have you seen my glove?

You’re on.

I can’t go on with one glove.
Here it is!

Hurry up.

And now, it’s our pleasure
to present the Garnier sisters!

Here they are,
the famous Garnier sisters!

When the summer is gone,
when the seasons move on

When the leaves die and fall,
we only sigh about it all

But to bring back a summer’s day
when the cold is here to stay

And your heart’s in a pall,
all you have to do is love

Love your life, love the flowers
Love to laugh, love to cry

Love the day, love the night
Love the sunshine and showers

Love the cold, love the wind
Love the cities and the fields

Love the sea, love the flames
Love the world and be happy again

When love has gone and died
and there’s a chill in your heart

You swear never again to start,
and all you do is cry

But if love’s to return
and your heart is to burn

Though everything’s taciturn,
you’ve got to love

When you’ve found new delight,
when you feel your heart’s might

And love is back in sight,
each day is a summer’s day

So with new joys in store
and summer at your door

And love as your servitor,
you’ve got to sing

Sing of love, sing of flowers
Sing of laughter and tears

Sing of day, sing of night
Sing of rain and sunlight

- Talk about stage fright!
- It went all right.

It came undone here.

- A guy to see you.
- Me?

- No, Delphine.
- Who is it?

He didn’t say.

Well, we got applause.

Not quite the Asian shimmy,
but it’s got charm.

Enough out of you.

Go find your shimmiers,
you boors!

Oh, it’s you.

Disappointed?

Yes.

I saw your act.
I came to say you’ve made progress.

And apart from the flattery?

If you wanted,
I could make you a star.

Come with me.

I’m going to Paris.

A lovely girl like you –
- Needs a man like you.

I love how you think
on your feet.

I never want to see you again.

You’ll regret it.

What about my painter?

Transferred to Germany.
Thanks to me, dear heart.

Delphine... my sister.

- It was wonderful.
- Thank you.

Really, I mean it.

You’re leaving tomorrow?
- Yes.

These gentlemen
will take us to Paris.

I saw my friend Andy.

He came here to see me.
He’s going back to Paris.

He’s fallen in love
with a girl he saw here.

It’s a long story.

I told him about you.

You can go see him in Paris.

Thank you.

That was kind of you.

It’s only natural.

Good-bye, gentlemen.

Bye, girls.
- Bye, Mr. Dame.

Good luck.

- Don’t stay there.
- We in the way?

We’d like to change.
Turn around.

- We have something to say.
- Make it quick.

Can we draw these?

We’re waiting.

Here goes:
Etienne and I love you.

And we love you too.
Don’t we?

Sure we do.

Can one of you
pass me my jeans?

- We mean romantically.
- What?

- We’re in love with you.
- What are they talking about?

So we want to sleep with you.

What?

It’s normal when you’re in love.

- That explains the ride?
- We’ll take the train.

You’re not very accommodating.

We know your type.

Always the same old tune,
always the same soft sell

Always the man who will
take you to a hotel... Why?

Never "I love you"
Never "I’ll be true"

Never a billet doux
as gentlemen used to do

Always the same refrain,
always the quick fling

Always a love in vain
never leading to anything

Why? Oh why?

Never fine sentiments

Never a romantic urge

Never a moment intense
or a lyrical surge

Always guys on the run,
always the one-night stand

Always up before the sun
and off with a wave of the hand

Always the passion that cools,
always the bad aftertaste

Always the feeling of haste,
the heart playing the fool

Oh why?
Why do you sigh for us?

Why do you take us to bed?

Why say you’d die for us
but never promise to wed?

- Why get so upset?
- Why lecture us like this?

But to end the fête
can we give you a kiss?

Okay?

Okay

- Still coming tomorrow?
- If you promise to behave.

- We’ll try.
- Then we’re coming.

- Meet us here at noon.
- See you tomorrow.

- Always the same refrain
- Always the letdown

- Always telling us no
- Never is the answer yes... oh, why?

Always those promises

But tomorrow never comes

We never have a chance

We really look dumb

Why?

MONDAY MORNI NG

Postman!

Hurry. You’ll be late.

Hurry, Booboo.

- Bye, sweetie.
- Bye, Mom.

- A cup of coffee.
- Make it two.

- Leaving already?
- We’ll be back.

- Taking my girls?
- We meet at noon.

Be careful.

Was the fair a success?
- A huge one.

- And my girls?
- A triumph!

They made the front page!
With a photo!

"Twins launch their own Gemini."

What’s that mean?

- I don’t get it.
- Me neither.

Look, it’s Dutrouz!

"Sadist Hid Murder Weapon at Home."

That’s Dutrouz, all right.

They forgot the Z.
He’ll lose his head.

If he holds on to it.

How about that!

- Shall we?
- Let’s go.

We have to go by the hotel,
then finish loading.

And that fuss
about cutting the cake!

Wicked man!

Good-bye, and bon voyage.

If you’re ever
in Rochefort, stop by.

True, there’s trouble everywhere.

Dutrouz...

the rat!

11:30 already!

- I’ve come for my lesson.
- School’s closed for good.

- Who was it?
- The Dumont girl, for her lesson.

At this hour!

It’s 11:30.

I didn’t cancel!
We’ll never make it by noon!

We must say good-bye to Mom
and go pick up Booboo.

How will I manage in time?

I’ll kiss Mom good-bye
while you go by the school.

What’d you lose?
- The third movement of my concerto.

This is a disaster!
- You know it by heart.

Still, it’s annoying.

- What if they really love us?
- Who?

Our carnies.

I don’t know.

- They’re sweet.
- Yes, they are.

What about your foreigner?

Vanished.
Maybe I dreamed him up.

And your painter?
- He’s in Germany.

- Expecting someone?
- No, but now we’re really late.

Solange,
you must come right away.

Where?

To my shop.
Andy’s back and waiting for you.

- Now?
- Right now. He’s just passing through.

But we’re so late already, and I must
pick up my brother at school.

Maybe he could go.
The school’s right nearby.

It’d help us out.
- How can you?

Of course I will!

Ask for Booboo.
He’s a little redhead.

Impossible! I can’t go!

I’m scared stiff! I’ll see him in Paris.
- Nonsense. Go on.

- Yes, go on.
- I’m shaking.

It’s so crazy!

Not even a hello?

What a difference.
I mean, from the uniform.

I’m out, Yvonne.

Time to live.
- I thought they’d keep you in,

- given the news.
- What news?

You seen the papers?
Trouble all over.

Come on! Dutrouz may be
a pessimist, but you?

Speak of the devil.

Look at this.

He’s the sadist.
A crime of passion.

For 40 years
she turned him down.

Sure, it was aggravating,

but that’s no reason
to carve her up.

I guess he cut her
down to size.

Well, I’m off.

To Paris?

You may run into my daughters.

I met one the other day...
Solange.

And your ideal?

It’ll have to wait.

My picture’s at the gallery.
Go see it sometime.

Let me kiss you good-bye.

Good-bye, Maxence.

Hi, Mom.

- So you’re really off?
- About time!

- Solange isn’t coming by?
- I came for both of us.

I guess you can’t go get Booboo.

He’s in good hands.

A friend, Mr. Dame, went for him.
Lucky he came by.

What’d you say? Mr. Dame?

Simon Dame.
A silly name, but a nice man.

I have to go out.

Gramps is asleep. Josette isn’t back.
Watch the place.

But I can’t!
They’re waiting for me.

Be right back.

Yvonne! My paper!

You hear me?

I forgot my bag.

Somebody there?

The foreigner...

Are you Andy?
- That’s me.

- Where’d you find that music?
- In the street.

I looked all over.

So did I.
I looked all over for you.

Yvonne! You’re here.

How was Mexico?

Lovely, Simon.

- Where’re you going?
- Paris.

We’ll go in my car.
At 140 mph, it’ll take four hours.

I’m in no hurry.

Forget about that painter.

I’ll go to Germany if I must,
but I’ll find him.

Good luck, then.

- Tell me where he is.
- Paris.

"Paris is small
for a great passion like yours."

You’re sure to run into him
on the boulevards.

Hurry. We’ve been waiting.

- Solange isn’t here?
- Too bad!

But we were to meet at noon.

It’s nearly half past.
Get in.

Wait for a minute.
Here she comes.

- No, it’s Josette.
- Wait for me.

Take me along.
I want to see Paris.

Hop in.

We go from place to place
across rivers and valleys

They call us carnies
The road is our home base