Original subtitles

I know this sausage.

Be careful, Jules.

Deli meats are not ideal for you.

Wrong. It is my ideal.

Did you buy it for me when she said I was coming?

Yes. At Nagaud's.

Ah, Nagaud!

His andouillette...

Grandpa Nagaud made some money under the Occupation.

He was the king of the black market.

Let's forget these old stories and enjoy his sausage.

You haven't said anything about your lecture at the Arts Center.

Because there's nothing to say.

I've paid my share to the duty of remembrance.

The duty of remembrance is a stupid idea.

I think it's nice. People nowadays forget everything.

Fortunately.

No oblivion, no life.

A shrink would say, "No memory, no life".

You need both -

memory to remember

that Nagaud makes the best sausage around,

and oblivion

to not think about how he got the money to make it.

Anyway, the memories shared with family and friends

are important.

Memory stuffed into oblivion. Selective memory.

We pick what suits us.

It's perfect.

You haven't said anything about your lecture at the Arts Center.

I already asked that?

Two minutes ago.

Struck with amnesia for ridiculing memory.

Speaking of,

do you remember my roommate,

Leonine, the Bulgarian deportee?

- Of course. - Never heard of him.

No wonder. You hardly ever come.

He died suddenly last week, in the middle of the night.

A beautiful death.

I met his son when he came for the body.

He's a member of Front National.

Can you believe it? The son of a deportee...

Edmond Lherbier's grandson is related to the FN, you know?

Poor old Edmond!

He must be rolling over in his grave.

To be a communist mayor for 30 years only to have a fascist grandson.

Please.

What's that medicine?

It's important.

Thank you.

Remembering reassures me.

Not me. It makes me anxious.

You haven't said anything about your lecture.

A FRENCH TOWN

DEPARTURE

I wanted to tell you she didn't suffer.

And since an officer witnessed her fall,

an autopsy won't be necessary.

Unless you want one.

How can you know that she didn't suffer?

I mean...

Cervical fracture, she died instantly.

So naturally, she didn't suffer.

At least that's what I was thinking.

But I'm not a doctor

like you, of course.

How long's it gonna be?

Actually...

This is a temporary morgue.

They're building a parking lot

at Place de la Victoire,

next to Rue Marcel Larcher.

Wait a minute...

Larcher... Are you related to Marcel Larcher?

Yes.

Anyway, they're building...

that underground lot

at Place de la Victoire,

and there's been a problem with...

the foundations of the building where the morgue is.

They fear it'll collapse.

So now the morgue's here.

Since there're not enough drawers, some of...

some of the clients come from there,

from the main morgue.

Why didn't you take me to the main morgue?

Because we can't.

For safety reasons. They fear it'll collapse.

What took you so long?

There's a tarpaulin in the hall.

We could barely push the gurney through.

Do we stay, do we go... What should we do?

I don't know. Come back in ten minutes.

Ten minutes, Mr. Larcher. Will that do?

Yes.

I'm really sorry. The thing is...

All this is temporary. It's 15 amps.

It can't handle the voltage.

I'll be right back. I'm going to get a lamp.

Mr. Larcher?

This is all I found. I'm sorry.

Oh, sorry.

I'd like to have a moment with her, please.

Yes, of course.

I have to find the circuit breaker.

- Here's the lamp. - Thank you.

Hortense...

Why did you do that?

I'd always wanted to know what it felt like.

- Dying? - No.

To jump out the window.

So?

So you die.

Unless you jump off the ground floor, I guess.

I hadn't touched you in such a long time.

Everyday can't be Christmas.

It's funny...

I was always certain that I would leave first.

At your age, you should be used to being wrong, don't you think?

No one ever gets used to it.

Did it hurt?

All the time.

Since my earliest childhood.

But nobody ever believed me.

Except for Heinrich.

But he...

He liked hurting people.

You'll be relieved now that I'm gone.

I don't know.

You were my pain.

It's going to be weird to live without pain.

I'm going to be bored.

All you have to do is think about me.

Every now and then,

when you feel like suffering a little.

I promise.

You know what I was thinking?

The captain had not given the order to fire.

Go tell that to the voters. The polling stations are open.

You won't say anything?

It's better if I don't.

Come on, it's not as if I'd fired.

You somehow did, madam.

Didn't the CRS know the strike was over?

Did you call De Kervern?

Suzanne was supposed to do it.

And you trusted her?

Goodbye, Raymond.

Aren't you going to wait for the results?

We've got the results since last night.

Life is short.

I've got other things to do.

Maybe the communists didn't call De Kervern.

You are delusional.

Goodbye.

I have cancelled the railroad contract.

- You'll lose... - Everything I have left.

I will happily go bankrupt.

But I'll start a new business.

A business of my own.

- You are unfair. - Yes.

And you're fair, so that compensates.

I will not argue over the tragedy at the Schwartz sawmill.

I simply bow down before a comrade whose death

affects every worker,

every Résistant,

every humanist.

I believe you personally knew Anselme Mercier?

Yes, we were both Résistants.

I was at PCF, he was elsewhere.

We had met several times.

But this isn't about me.

The tragedy at the Schwartz sawmill

calls for only one thing:

recollection and discretion. Thank you.

I didn't think I'd see you again.

That was E. Lherbier, communist candidate...

I was lucky.

Are our advisors ready?

- Yes, we've checked. - Check again!

What happened last night?

I don't know.

Like you, I found out by the back door.

But...

did you call De Kervern? - No.

- I had no news from you. - You had "no news"?

I spoke to a comrade at 8.

I told him that the strike was over...

He said he would tell you.

A comrade?

Do you have his name?

Tell me you didn't do it.

Do what?

Max?

Do you know anything?

Look at me.

Suzanne, Max is tired.

- He was in a camp... - Look at me, Max.

You should get some rest.

Max?

I'm sorry.

Suzanne...

Do not ever speak to me again.

Ever.

Goodbye, Max.

I guess you'll do the same.

Where could I go?

"My house is sick, but it's my house".

Who said that?

A Soviet poet.

He died in a camp.

Does it hurt all the time or not?

All the time.

With some really painful bouts in two fingers.

I can barely hold my gun.

We're no longer at war, but it's not good for a cop.

It looks like arthrosis.

We need an X-ray. I'll write you a prescription.

I wanted to ask you,

Ms. Morhange, who helped us in 42,

have you heard from her?

She died on her way from Drancy.

She was a really good person.

Yes.

What happened with the Jews at the school was tough.

I think about it often.

Me too.

The purge didn't get to me, though.

I helped the Résistance in '43,

by chance, actually.

Anyway.

I was decorated.

And I was deprived of my rights.

There isn't much in it sometimes.

Here.

As for the arthrosis, don't be long.

- How much do I owe you? - Nothing.

By the way, the Polish lady who was looking for you, did you see her?

- Who? - The deportee from Birkenau.

She was at the station. She was looking for you.

Her name was Rachel...

Rachel something.

She had a train to catch. She wanted to see you before.

She had a message from another deportee.

I gave her your address.

She didn't show up?

OK, well...

Thank you, Doctor.

Why did he do that?

Have you heard the results?

Hello, everybody.

Right.

I wanted to tell you...

I'm shutting down the mill.

But hey.

I'll start a new business...

And I undertake here, before you,

to hire all those who will be available

under the conditions that you asked for.

There.

- Amélie didn't come? - No. Hubert's not here either.

Do you know where to find Anselme's wife?

They're separated, I think.

It's important. We need to inform his daughters.

Suzanne might know.

OK, I'll ask her.

Hubert!

Mister Schwartz.

I came to see...

Well, I came to see if you needed me.

- Amélie's not with you? - No.

She's with the kid.

He's a little sick today.

He's at his grandma's.

Where is Amélie?

I told you, she's with her son.

Tell me where she is, you piece of shit.

Amélie!

Amélie!

- The bastard. - Be careful...

It hurts everywhere.

I have a broken arm.

You can't stay here. I'm taking you.

Where's Hubert?

I beat the shit out of him. He won't come.

- Did you kill him? - No, but I would've loved to.

I figured coming here was a smarter move.

Let me take your arm.

Easy.

- Is this alright? - Yes.

It's gonna be OK.

It's gonna be OK.

Just a little effort.

Don't worry, you'll be fine.

You'll be fine.

We didn't marry.

Better than marriage - this is a rebirth.

It's my release from prison.

Take that off.

- Something's off, though. - What?

Why did Chassagne... I mean, Jeannine...

Why did she get you out?

What do I know. Maybe to make a good deed?

That might be her.

I don't think so.

Take that off!

Coming.

Hubert!

What do you want?

To have a conversation with you.

I'm busy right now.

You can drop by the office tomorrow.

Tomorrow? That's a good idea.

Except I'm leaving.

When you come back, then.

I think I'd rather talk now.

I see. But you're pissing me off.

You bet, and you lost. Goodbye.

I haven't lost everything yet.

You can't pick up your wife like that.

But I made a mistake.

Sorry to say this, my dear colleague,

but your wife is severely paranoid.

- There's no doubt. - Maybe.

She said something that I thought was insane,

but ended up being true.

Mr. Larcher, a lunatic may be right by accident.

But they're still a lunatic.

Maybe not.

Other things happened.

Your wife walked around naked.

She assaulted our staff.

She is dangerous for herself and for others.

- I want her back. - I object to it.

But she's not in prison.

She will be compulsorily held for one month.

An assessment will be made.

I am her husband!

I brought her, she came voluntarily.

That doesn't change the fact that she's dangerous.

It'd be reckless to let her go.

I will appeal.

That's your right.

File a complaint with the Regional Health Commission.

You'll have an answer in six to nine months.

Michel... What's up?

Can I have a cigarette?

Help yourself.

You are...?

Dr. Gaspard, Health Inspection Authority.

I just talked to Dr. Vignal.

I'll have a look around.

Hortense.

Hortense.

Are you her husband?

Daniel, right?

She said you'd come, but I didn't believe her.

- Hortense, wake up. - They stuff her with sedatives.

They're monsters.

- Wake up. - They gave her a shot.

Hortense.

- I'm so tired of these visions. - Hortense, it's me.

I'm here. You were right about Sarah.

I was the one mistaken.

You believe me now.

You're not crazy, Hortense.

Bringing you here was a crazy thing to do.

Come on, you're coming with me.

- You believe me. - We will leave together.

We will start over away from here.

Who are you?

Daniel Larcher. I'm this woman's husband.

I'm also a doctor,

and this is outrageous.

The straps are too tight, the patients got bedsores.

Some of them are severely malnourished.

Go to the ward.

- Call the doctor. - We call it "the purgatory".

Security!

Don't go.

Don't leave me.

Don't leave me.

Call security!

Tell everyone about this place!

Get out of my way.

Calm down.

Coffee, Mom?

You're going to kill me.

Not today.

I think I'm going to rest a little bit instead.

All this talking is exhausting.

Shall we drive you back there?

There, yes.

I'd like some coffee.

Sausage, coffee...

You're pushing it.

Thank you.

Be good. Both of you.

Could you leave us, please?

- It's not good? - Oh, yes.

How long has it been since you last visited me?

When we love, we don't count.

Three months, right?

Four.

Are you mad?

How could I?

You're my only successful love story.

You too.

A lot has happened in four months.

Where?

In my stomach.

This is the last time we see each other.

For the last days, I've been living off...

Shots of some filthy stuff...

It's lucky I can't remember its name.

My heart will stop all at once.

They say it won't be painful.

I won't live to 100 years old.

By a hair.

Does Mom know?

No, no.

I don't want her to know.

I don't want tears to be the last thing I see of her.

Or maybe I'm afraid there won't be any.

- Does it hurt? - No, no.

No, the shots...

take the pain away.

But they'll take my life as well.

That's the reason why I barged in today.

I wasn't going to tell you this on the phone.

Let me come with you.

- No, no. - Yes.

I don't want you to be alone.

It's my decision and I want to be alone.

Please, let me go.

And don't tell your mother.

That's all I'm asking.

You want to help me? Do that.

Not telling her, I've done that all my life.

Only a few more days.

Two or three.

Mom and I went to the cemetery.

That's hasty.

She stopped for a long time in front of a grave.

She said it was a friend's.

I felt that friendship...

was kind of special.

Do you know who it is?

Yes, I know who it is.

Will you tell me?

Yes, I will tell you.

Hello, darling.

You look great.

Sit down!

Leave her out of this, Hubert.

Shut up.

One smartass move, and she gets it. Is that clear?

Have I made myself clear?

- You don't scare me, Hubert. - Really?

On your knees, Schwartz.

Hands on your head.

Hurry up.

I don't want to scare you, Amélie.

I want to hurt you, just like you hurt me.

I'll probably never achieve it,

but I can give you an idea.

Leave us alone.

You have breached every rule of professional conduct.

I should report you to the Association.

Yes, you should.

Tell them you lie about the cause of death of your patients.

What do you mean?

In the red brick building,

there are three women who died of a "seizure".

But you and I know what the cause is.

You're delusional.

They died of malnutrition.

They had an edema on their ankles.

Typical.

How can you starve them?

I forbid you.

We have been fighting for months to save as many as we can.

Save them, sure.

And since when do patients in a hospital starve to death?

Since July 1940, Mr. Larcher.

Excuse me?

You think only our patients die?

In the Charbonnières asylum, the mortality rate is 20%.

Villefranche, 30.

In Châteauneuf, 1 out of 2 patients die.

The same happens in nursing homes.

How can that be?

In a country that is famished,

the old and the crazy have been literally left to die.

Our food supplies have declined.

From February 41, we are below the subsistence minimum.

The Occupation ended a year ago.

Not the shortage - it is worse, at the moment.

Whether Vichyists or Gaullists,

no one cares if the old and the deranged die.

Right.

All that matters now is my wife.

I can't let a patient placed under compulsory care leave.

Then I will tell the press about your hundreds of deaths.

Why don't you come with me?

I told you, it's not nice out there.

- It's not for me. - What's not for you?

People.

They say they want to talk to me,

but in reality, they just want to eat me.

- Let's go, Hortense. - One minute!

I'm saying goodbye to a friend.

You'll come to see her.

You'll write her.

I want you out of here.

Get out of here for both of us.

- Will you send me the candy? - Yes. The candy.

Hortense.

Listen to your husband.

He's your prince charming, Hortense.

He's your prince charming.

Come on.

Are you gonna be OK?

Yes, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me.

It's odd there was no one at the cemetery.

Except us, I mean.

Have you seen Suzanne?

Suzanne?

I saw her on TV once,

when there was a debate on the Veil law.

Other than that... no.

What about the paintings?

I don't know.

I'll see with the Bériot girl.

Maybe she can... I don't know.

We could meet again.

I mean, now and then, if you want.

Yes...

We hadn't seen each other in years,

and now we suddenly meet...

Even if the time isn't...

We can meet again.

- I mean, it's up to you. - Listen... Absolutely.

We won't set a date, though.

I don't have a book.

No appointments.

I'll just show up on D-Day.

Show up... whenever you want.

I will be here, anyway.

OK.

I have to go, Dad.

Nathalie is pleading tomorrow,

and with Jérôme's chickenpox...

Sure you're OK?

Yes. Listen...

I'm no seer, but yes, I think so.

I'll be fine.

- Are you coming to dinner on Friday? - Yes.

Will you drive Gustave to the station?

Of course.

If you don't mind. If not, I can walk.

Not at all. Villefranche station?

Yes, that would be great.

- Right. - Right.

Give Nathalie and Jérôme a hug for me.

She's sorry she had to leave.

She's all in, and she must be at court early.

It's already nice that she came.

Goodbye.

So... Shall we shake hands or kiss?

I don't know.

OK, now.

Bye, Gustave. It was good to see you.

- I'll see you again, then? - I told you, yes.

I hope Léonore will get better.

Yes, it's nothing.

It's nothing.

Not to rush you...

Right. We're gonna get going, then.

Bye, Uncle.

Bye... Gus.

Amélie!

Go get me a whiskey.

For five years, at the stalag,

every day and every night,

I dreamed of my country,

my house,

my wife.

Then one day, I returned.

My country ignored me, despised me...

my house was no longer my house,

and my wife was no longer my wife.

And to top it all, this kind, humane...

understanding boss gives me a job,

but he also takes my wife.

And I've to roll over.

Let's stop here, Lucienne.

I like this place a lot.

I don't know why, but it smells nice.

It's probably because of that laurel tree over there.

I like how you make sense of things.

Don't you think that...

Françoise looked particularly sad today?

No, not really.

She's never been a cheerful girl.

You can go now, Lucienne. I'll get some fresh air.

You usually like me to take you back to your room.

It's different today.

Let me rest on my laurels.

Next week,

I'll bring you some potted herbs.

Laurel, thyme, lavender,

savory...

Why didn't I think about it before?

Next week?

Well, yes.

Tuesday.

Like every week.

Oh, yes! Yes, of course.

Since you've been here, I've never missed my Tuesday Beriot.

Yes. That's true.

You are faithful to me.

Don't be twisted.

I do what I can, as I always have.

See you next week, Lucienne.

See you next week, Jules.

Why do you kiss me?

You never kiss me.

I don't know.

For the 60th anniversary of the march.

I wasn't there.

But I was.

When men live in brotherly love

There will be no more misery

And the good days will begin

But we shall be long gone, my brother

When men live in brotherly love

There will be peace on Earth

Soldiers will be troubadours

But we shall be long gone, my brother

Through the course of this life

Which we had to experience

In which we had to play a part

We were dealt a bad hand

When men live in brotherly love

There will be no more misery

And the good days will begin

But we shall be long gone, my brother

Through the course of this life

Which we had to experience

In which we had to play a part

What could we do with him?

Especially if she dies.

This is my wife, Carlotta.

I'm looking for my baby.

I would have loved to meet her.

If you enjoy it...

No.

Stop!

I want it to last forever.

Nothing lasts forever.

- Why didn't he get out? - It's complicated.

It's disgusting!

There's only one thing wrong with you:

you never speak your mind.

In the end, you didn't let anyone go.

And they all died!

140 men, women and children.

I did not know!

Death will find us all, one day or another.

I'll never forget that you're my brother.

You must help me die, Marcel.

Would you do that to me?

We'll never be forgiven for what we're doing, Servier.

We are saving the lives of ten people.

Am I bothering you?

No.

Do you mind if I eat a bite?

I have the munchies.

No.

I was just passing by.

I figured I could come to see you.

That's nice of you.

No problem. We're brothers.

You didn't always feel that way.

As Khrushchev said, "let's forget the past".

If you want.

I would like that.

Also...

I wanted to thank you.

I mean... to apologize to you.

Apologize?

Yes.

- About the soldiers. - What soldiers?

When I stole Dad's soldiers,

you took the blame.

Did you forget?

No.

- We never talked about it. - That's true.

Anyway, I wanted to say...

That was super neat. Really.

I never forgot.

Right.

I gotta go, I have stuff to do. I'm expected.

Can I come with you?

Sure.

If you want.

- Are you ready? - Yes.

Did you send the candy?

Two boxes.

Say,

do you think we'll be happy in Paris?

We won't be happy in Villeneuve.

How are we going to see Tequiero?

- You would like to see him? - Yes.

We'll manage. We'll have him over occasionally.

Say, have my clothes left yet?

Yesterday, by train.

I wanted to change my dress.

This one's nice.

I don't want people looking at me.

Let's go.

A FRENCH TOWN

Subtitles: ECLAIR