Original subtitles

...

Classical music

...

...

-For Lucian,

it all started with ink,

paper and the taste for beauty.

Metallic squeaks

...

Orphan without inheritance,

he had to learn a trade to survive.

His sister Ève having married a printer from Angoulême,

he worked in this modest workshop

dreaming of another life.

Soft music

...

Still today in Paris, all those who knew him

wonder how his story was possible,

in what movement of the world he was carried away.

...

-Take.

-I will be late. -But no.

They won't do anything to you, you know.

Here is.

-Meanwhile, walking down that long aisle,

it was like stepping into another world,

almost change countries,

to the castle of Madame de Bargeton.

Someone knocked.

- The guests are coming, Madame la Baroness.

-Thank you.

-Supporting a husband almost as old as his castle,

she wanted to protect artists, and patron.

One Sunday after Mass,

the bishop had recommended a young poet to him

employed in a printing press,

who signed his poems with the beautiful name of Lucien de Rubempré.

Soft music

...

-What took the most work,

it is to return the vitality of the petals.

You see,

at the level of the eglantines?

Also the skin of different fruits...

...

-Leave us, please.

...

Thanks, Lucian.

It's a great honour.

I was afraid you weren't coming.

- Will your husband be present?

-Do you think.

He only reads hunting treatises and takes care only of his dogs.

- You are very beautiful, madam.

- Dear friends, I thank you for your faithful presence.

One day, when one of our proteges will be recognized

and celebrated,

we will be able to say: "I attended its beginnings

"and that had moved me."

The young poet we welcome

had read to us last month a biblical ode.

Our Gazette des Lettres greeted him with these words.

"When a brilliant gift appears in a very young man,

"It is for us a new hope,

"a new spring of life.

"20 years and already the momentum of a work."

For him, poetry is

a sacred thing, a kind of intimate religion.

And we know how to respect the spirits in whom God places one of his rays.

Come, sir, we are waiting for you.

(The bag, take off your bag.)

- For Her .

To like,

Pray,

To sing,

This is my whole life

Mortal, of all these goods that here below man envies

At the time of farewell, I regret nothing

Nothing but burning pleasure,

Who soars towards the sky,

The ecstasy of the lyre Or the amorous silence

With a heart pressed against mine

At the feet of beauty, to feel her lyre quivering

See agreement in agreement The harmonious delirium

flow with sound

And pass into her bosom

Make the tears rain from these eyes that we adore

Like the wind blowing

Dawn's tears are raining down from an overfilled chalice

Rare applause

...

Soft music

...

I am sorry.

-They have narrow lives, they feel nothing.

It was really beautiful.

-Pardon.

I was looking for you, lady. The Marchioness of Contades

wanted to thank you.

What do you want them to understand?

-And you ?

What did you think of it?

-We don't think these things, we feel them, right?

-"Louise.

"A love such as the one you knew how to inspire in me,

"I thought it both chimerical and forbidden.

"Prohibited,

"like everything that must ultimately triumph.

“Every written word brings me closer to your lips.

"Every book in my library seems to tell me about you.

“Since that disastrous afternoon, I have thought only of you.

"To you, isolated among the shadows between these lifeless walls,

"without poetry, without love.

“Only love in the world is something.

"And love is like the wind,

"He will take us away.

"Your turn, Louise.

"Lucien."

-She took crazy risks to join him,

inventing fugues in the afternoon.

She guided his gestures, and he was already less clumsy.

-Will this comedy with my wife last much longer,

Mr. Thistle?

- My name is Lucien de Rubempré.

-I once met your parents, young man.

You are the son of Chardon,

small pharmacist of the place of the church.

You have no right to bear your mother's name,

even to sign your ridiculous poems,

as mannered as your little person.

-You don't know anything about these things.

Go back to your dogs and your guns.

You don't deserve a woman like her.

You wasted her life by letting her waste away.

-No ! -Lucian!

-Monsieur !

-Chardon !

Chardon.

And all these lands belong to me.

I can chase your family away

at any time!

-I don't want to see you suffer, Louise.

Come to Paris with me, until this case calms down.

You deserve to have a little fun. Give me this chance.

-I don't want you to misunderstand me.

The friendship between us needs no other feelings.

- I know how to wait.

Soft music

...

-No free young man having more than a thousand francs

is really sad to leave his family.

The young poet imagined the city as a pagan goddess,

arms open to talent and merit.

But what did he know of Paris?

-I took them for the trip.

Could I read to you?

I will not be dependent on you.

Never.

It's too late to be afraid.

-This smile that had escaped its protector,

Lucien didn't think of giving it a name.

But were they going, she and he, to the same place,

at the same time in their lives?

...

-Paris.

...

- You traveled with him, alone, in your car?

- No one saw us.

- How could you take such a risk?

- You promised to help me.

-But there are rules here, things are not without damage.

You have a title, you are a rare woman.

And him, what is he?

Imagine learning about it in Paris. Some would refuse to see you.

-I couldn't abandon him, he will be a great poet.

I always knew it.

-He can't stay with you, Louise.

Understand it.

-To avoid a scandal,

the unfortunate suitor found accommodation for the young favourite,

a few blocks from Louise.

But a few streets, when you arrive from the Charentes,

it was already very far.

- I will thank you.

-Tomorrow evening, you will accompany us to the opera.

I will introduce you as my protege.

Let's say a godson.

You must prevent any misunderstanding about your relationship with Louise.

- I will do nothing to compromise her.

-At this party, you will meet Louise's cousin,

the Marquise d'Espard.

A very respected woman in the suburb.

The Faubourg Saint-Germain, yes.

-Yes I understood.

- Here, the rent is paid for a week.

Do you have enough to survive?

- I have enough to hold out until I find a publisher.

Besides, I already have contacts.

- Oh yes, I imagine.

I'll tell you a tailor where to hire an evening dress.

This is to honor our Louise.

-I should hope so.

Good bye, sir.

-"For my brother, who believes in the adventure of beauty."

-In Paris, the adventure of beauty

was also that of beauty products,

whose illustrated advertisements were displayed everywhere,

as a new public language.

Hectic music

...

Whistle Whiplash

The world had changed

and Lucien knew nothing of this world.

We wanted to forget the Revolution,

the Terror and the Wars of the Empire.

France had restored the power of the Old Regime

and court nobility.

We now aspired to success and personal enrichment.

Then the young provincials came running by the thousands,

determined too to forge a destiny,

but far from the battlefields.

In any case, if you had to miss your life,

it was better to miss it in Paris.

In one afternoon,

Lucien had already spent 1,570 francs.

What to live for several weeks

in Angouleme.

But that night, Louise had to watch him at all costs.

and love her again.

A whole life could be played on the first impression

given to this high society.

And we know that the first impression is often the right one.

Especially when it's bad.

-Monsieur ?

-I don't have a coupon, but I'm expected.

-You are expected ? -Yes.

-Thank you.

-By the Marquise d'Espard and the Baron du Châtelet.

-Yes, but you don't have a coupon.

-Non.

-Thank you. Step aside, please.

- But they are expecting me.

-You do not enter without a coupon.

Let the guests pass, thank you.

Thank you sir.

-Ah, Lucien, we were looking for you.

- Paris suits you well, Madame.

-What did you do to your hair?

- I wanted to honor you.

-It's a real success. Let's go.

Upbeat music

...

-Lucien then discovered the famous Marquise d'Espard,

who would have an essential role in the drama of his life.

-Wait for a moment, Lucien.

-Dear cousin. -Good evening.

You are lovely.

I would like to introduce you to someone, if you accept.

-He is a godson who comes to us from Angoulême.

I present to you the Marquise d'Espard.

-Nice to meet you madam.

Lucien de Rubempré, at your service.

- A godson.

-Walking towards the lodges,

the Marquise had told her provincial cousin

that you don't hold your handkerchief that way.

Not at all.

Good taste, that is to say elegance,

is due to a thousand nuances of this kind that some easily understand,

but that other women will never understand.

The orchestra agrees.

...

-M. of Rubempre,

Are you coming to the opera for the first time?

-Is it so obvious, madam?

-Take this seat, you will have the whole room under your eyes.

- She came with her hairdresser?

- The fashion of Angoulême amuses all these ladies.

- No, my dear, it's not you.

-Look, Louise.

The baron is there.

Look, Louise, second row.

-In this world of pageantry, the little things became big.

An unfortunate gesture

a word or a look lose a beginner.

Bad behavior is like a stab in the web,

a dissonant note in an opera.

Upbeat music

...

In the room,

there was only the young Lucien to be captivated by the dancers,

moreover very academic.

For this worldly audience,

the show was just a bad moment before intermission,

where the real comedy could finally resume.

Soft music

...

-Dearest Nathan.

We were looking for you. -It's true ?

-What did we think of the show?

- We're looking at you. Your beauty eclipses the scene.

-How nice.

I still haven't received your new book.

-Yes. This is scheduled for the end of next week.

With white roses to make amends.

-I present to you my cousin,

Louise de Bargeton. -Madame.

-A great reader, she comes from the Charentes.

Delicious, right? -Absolutely.

-And M. Lucien de Rubempré, a young poet thrown into Paris.

Mr. Nathan is our greatest literary hope.

If he agrees, he can

to advise you.

-Of course, I will be happy to help sir.

-Louise? Excuse me.

-Have you already met some publishers?

-I have addresses.

-Il y a Dauriat, Delaunay...

We could take the time to talk about it.

If you are interested, you have to meet them.

-That's very nice. - Nothing is refused to the Marquise.

-Excuse me sir.

Are you having a good evening?

I have never seen anything like it.

We feel very small. -Who is this young man?

-A famous writer. I do not know.

-There are many things you don't know, Lucien.

- Discreetly, the Baron du Châtelet had done what was necessary

so that Lucien's lie about his particle circulates in the corridors.

A commoner in the Marquise's box,

one of the highest figures of this restored aristocracy,

it was the promise of a scandal.

-You're leaving already ?

Louise ?

Louise !

-It is a young poet that I wanted to help.

-And he thanks you by lying on his name?

- That's his mother's name.

-He therefore has no right to bear a title or a name.

- I didn't want to compromise you.

- Compromise me?

No one can compromise me.

Rather worry about what people will say in Paris

about your relationship with him.

I've seen women banned from salons for less than that.

-I get it.

-I had left the money in the locked drawer!

- Are you accusing me? I don't even have a key!

- Nobody else came in, the money didn't disappear!

- I tell you that I didn't touch anything!

-Lucien took his finest pen.

A sentimental and naive letter

full of this dark dignity

which the 20-year-old artist often exaggerates.

- Can you give this to Madame de Bargeton?

- He never knew if Louise had received his letter.

This untidy drawer of feelings,

it had to be closed.

melancholic music

...

- I apologize for being late.

Let's talk a little further.

- Are you afraid of being seen with me? -No.

The police have installed large nets across the Seine,

out of town.

And do you know why ?

To recover the bodies of the unfortunate

who throw themselves off a bridge because they have nothing left

and that they refuse to return to their province.

Louise went crazy putting you in her luggage.

A woman's madness.

If she continued to see you, her cousin

and the whole suburb would turn their backs on him.

She would be left with nothing and no one.

So think about her a bit.

And to you, Mr. Chardon.

- My name is Rubempré, sir.

-Rubempré ?

-You know nothing

what we shared, her and I.

-You two dreamed all this.

Hold. She herself asked me

to give you this to return to your household.

-Money ?

-She asks you not to come see her anymore.

-I do not believe you.

-I added a few posts because your story is touching.

Finally, if you want.

- She will never love a man like you.

Look at you.

In Angoulême, you were called "La Pintade".

Whistles

-Go home !

-In the student district,

charitable souls have indicated to Lucien a fixed price restaurant

well known at the time.

The bread was there at will

and the free carafe of water.

The potato was queen of the menu

and for Lucien, since his humiliating evening,

the only accessible aristocrat.

...

Intriguing music

...

In Angouleme,

Lucien had devoted himself to great authors.

He knew nothing of this Parisian press

insolent, its cult of the formula and its provocations.

He was discovering this world of paper sold for two cents

where opinion is made and unmade

in a burst of laughter or a cry of rage.

-It's offered by the house.

Excuse me for disturbing you,

but you are indeed an editor in a newspaper?

-It is possible, yes.

-I was a proofreader in a printing house.

So I thought...

If you ever had any writing or copying work...

- Have you already written?

-A collection of poems that have been talked about a lot in Angoulême.

Hold.

I brought you some articles.

-The famous Gazette d'Angoulême.

Impressive.

He sneers.

-I need to work.

Does it pay well to write in a journal?

-It depends.

This week, I had 300 francs but I spent it all.

-300 francs per week for articles?

-It's a lot of work.

-That's a lot of money.

What is this ?

-Hashish. With that, everyone has talent. You want some ?

-No thanks.

-What's your name ?

-Lucien...

of Rubempre.

- Etienne Lousteau.

distant laughter

-The poet was still innocent enough to believe that in Paris,

talent inevitably attracted sympathy to you.

-Poems about daisies,

Of course she's gone, your Baroness.

-The next day, like a young rat in a hurry to get out of its hole,

he visited his new friend

in the journalists' quarter, near the main boulevards.

The major Parisian press was represented by prestigious titles

like Le Journal des Débats or Le Siècle .

But the law had allowed the appearance of periodicals of one or two pages

who took on provocative names like Le Corsaire ,

The Satan, or even The lame Devil .

Of liberal sensibility,

they railed tirelessly against the royalist government.

Could Lucien have known that in the press,

everyone needs friends, like a general needs soldiers.

-Make way!

Brouhaha

...

-It's over here, the Daisies!

One!

Stop the dumplings, you have items to return.

Sit down, please. Lamartine, go play.

Do you want some champagne?

-No thanks.

-Well, you'll still have it.

-I brought you my collection.

-I'll give you editors, don't worry.

-I do not worry.

- Yeah, you're worried here.

-I wanted to tell you,

I have great respect for the profession of journalist.

-Ah yes ? And what do you think my job is?

-You realize

new books and plays, new ideas.

You enlighten people on...

art...

The world.

He sneers.

-My job,

it is to enrich the shareholders of the newspaper.

And by the way, to rake as much as possible.

- To rake?

-Rake, absolutely!

We get paid first

by a theater director to write a good review.

Then we will see his competitor

to propose to him to speak ill of it. And we raise the stakes

writing in different journals

under different names.

And it turns and it turns.

And we rake, we rake.

It screams, it cries,

it arrives here with insults or gifts.

And the controversy is launched. For them, this is the most important.

That's what makes people talk, so sell

all that you want.

-Do you find many editors who accept?

-The newspaper pays by the line. And the same day, do you understand?

You return your article in the morning, you are paid the same evening.

Publishers, they pay you at six months, when they pay you.

He sneers.

Me, I arrived from Dijon

with a little comedy in three acts

that I had written in my campaign.

At home, everyone told me that my piece was brilliant, magnificent.

So I wanted to have it read to theater directors in Paris.

-What happened ?

- Nobody wanted to read it.

-Why ?

-Who do you take them for?

If you don't have the power to do them a favor,

you don't interest them.

If you don't scare anyone,

you don't interest anyone.

And yet...

I was good.

I too was pure in heart.

We're going to see Dauriat.

-Who is Dauriat?

-A poem.

If they look for me, I'm at Dauriat's.

And tonight, at Florine!

-Are you royalist or liberal?

-I am a liberal, like our financiers.

You also. You don't know it yet, but you're a liberal.

Royal Palace, quick!

-At the closing of the Stock Exchange,

a horde of young people poured into the Royal Palace.

It was the crossroads of the pleasures of Paris.

A kind of enclosure protected from the gaze of the street

where the police never entered

and where one came to taste all the adventures.

around the gardens,

fashion boutiques, wig shops or attractions

cohabited with restaurants, games rooms

especially prostitutes.

There were 1,500 unhappy

who solicited day and night in the galleries.

Youyous

All had their specific names, specialties, times and locations.

They were called swallows, courtesans,

lorettes or beavers.

Those who stalked passers-by from the window

were called half-beavers.

We never really knew why.

Professional or occasional,

each had its rate and name displayed on the columns,

between two advertisements.

Women's bodies were for sale

and we understood that he could sell

everything and anything.

-Here is. The belly of the beast.

-It is in this temple of shops of all kinds

that publishers had opened up shop.

-You know him ?

-We were introduced to the opera.

He's famous, I've been told.

-A royalist balloon. Look at him.

He poses, very happy with his little character.

His new book arrived this morning.

I haven't read it and I won't read it. Come on, come on.

Good morning !

-His Daisies in hand, Lucien was about to enter

at one of those great publishers he had dreamed of in Angoulême.

- Gentlemen, good morning.

-Originally a fruit and vegetable merchant,

the most influential of them was called Dauriat

and he could neither read nor write,

which was unusual for a publisher.

So the manuscripts and the contracts were read to him.

On the other hand, he knew how to count perfectly.

-3,000! Did you hear me?

I had 3,000 of his novel of misfortune printed.

Ink, paper, binding,

printing, I'm already at 1,500 francs.

1,500 francs, you hear me!

-The book is good, it will sell.

The reviews are excellent.

-Let's talk about it !

You charge

150 francs the good review, now?

How far are we going to go like this?

- You have to live well. -150 francs!

- A good review pays off.

-How do you calculate that?

At random, Parisian style?

How much are you going to ask me to cast Nathan?

And where is the divine child?

-The. You promised to print 4,000 copies

and you refuse to pay for advertising?

It's used for ? -You're kidding me ?

I paid Lousteau

200 francs for an article in your glory

in his duck. -Lousteau...

-200 francs to be on the front page.

True or false ? - And Blondet then?

You had to pay Blondet to attack me and start a controversy.

For the moment nothing. How do I do it without controversy?

But tell me,

how do you sell a book without controversy?

- He's right, I was waiting for the attack, otherwise I can't write.

-Switch, go, swindler!

- He didn't even open the book.

-You know like me

that to criticize a book, it is better not to read it.

Otherwise it influences. Laughter

- It's not from him, it's from Chamfort.

-So what ? I defend the French spirit.

-You could defend it by writing something else.

Amused cheers

-Better a good word than a bad book, isn't it?

...

Acclamations

...

- Come on, let's move on, children, I'm hungry.

Well, did you read it or not?

- He didn't read it.

- Of course, I read it.

Out of pure professional conscience.

Out of respect for the author.

- So we're listening to you.

-It's a book...

very particular, we do not know how to take it.

We turn the pages,

the sentences all want to seduce you,

like the girls I met

in the gallery. Laughter

It's like

a carnival of words, put there...

We were talking about it with my friend.

- And who is that?

Where do you write?

-Lucien de Rubempre, sir.

- Have you read his book?

-Yes, I read it carefully.

- Have you read it? You too.

-Yes.

-Let him talk.

Go ahead, express yourself.

-They say that an author must have things to say.

I think he must also have things to keep quiet.

clamours

Now, in Monsieur's book,

as Lousteau said so well, everything is said.

Everything is exhibited.

Where is the mystery?

- The mystery is that of your presence here, Mr. Chardon.

Thistle, is that right?

-To put it simply,

I find Monsieur's book curiously null.

Amused cheers

...

-I like that.

-Very well, the "curious about nullity".

- My modesty allows me to laugh at this trait.

-Funny virtue, as soon as you think you have it, you already don't have any more.

Cheers Applause

...

- Well, we'll see you again on Tuesday, at 10 o'clock.

Is it Chardon or Rubempré?

-Rubempré.

-Lucien comes to submit a manuscript to you.

-No, that's enough hacks, they're everywhere.

-It is a collection of very original poetry.

-Some poetry ? Unfortunately, it's not selling.

-I haven't read anything better for a long time.

-Do you know people who buy poetry?

Do you buy poetry, Lousteau? No, especially you.

- He is also working on a novel... - A novel?

They're everywhere, what for?

-Literature is my life.

-Books by strangers are of no interest to anyone.

It's not selling. -He is right.

-I do not understand.

-I do not publish

only people who are already famous, otherwise there are too many risks.

-How to make yourself known ? -Dating famous people.

Find yourself a mistress or a famous enemy.

- He explains well. -A Famous Enemy

who insults you in his diary.

Nathan, for example.

It would be a good enemy.

Nathan ?

The little one needs an enemy, would that amuse you?

-I am beyond your means.

- We will talk about you, it will raise your rating.

-Raise my rating?

-Perfectly.

Raise your rating, like on the stock market.

- But literature in all this?

- Oh, literature, it maintains illusions.

- The pineapple, sir.

-I no longer believe

than in pineapple.

- The pineapple?

-I invested in a pineapple plantation in Meudon.

It looks like it's going to be huge.

The pineapple will save us from poetry. I hope.

Come on, have fun.

Nathan, come see. -That's a big publisher?

This grocer?

-It's the best. He identified you, that's good enough.

Now let it boil.

Lousteau, Lousteau!

Did we tell you about Singali?

whispered words

-The royalists paid to whistle my darling at the theatre.

-Do we pay for this?

-We can pay for everything. That's progress.

- Lousteau's mistress was a well-known actress on the boulevard.

And that evening was to take place the premiere of his new play.

Lucien was going to live his second big night in Paris.

-Every day, thousands of tickets were sold

along what was called "Le boulevard du crime".

These crimes were those committed on stage, in the rooms

that we played in a dozen agglomerated halls,

between two street performances.

The theater was the most popular entertainment

and the most profitable.

Tightrope walker, Renaissance, Variety Theatre,

Déjazet, by Mme Saqui, by the Italians, or the Théâtre de la Gaîté...

The competition was fierce

between the directors and their ruthless methods.

It was common to whistle the show from the nearby theater.

- Theater program. -It's not okay ?

-To flip a coin, you had to protect yourself by buying the critic.

We had no choice. Question of survival.

Young journalists ruled the theaters

and all blackmails were possible.

The boulevard had become their hunting ground,

where they could rake at will.

-Singali brought in whistlers, it's going to be carnage.

-Where is he ? - If I only knew!

-It's complete, ladies and gentlemen. Disappointed clamours

-To protect themselves, the directors had to subscribe

hundreds of subscriptions to these newspapers

and offer free boxes to these critics,

who could sublet them and pocket the money.

To compensate for this shortfall,

managers had new sources of profit,

such as the sale of confectionery.

-Where were you ? It's going to whistle tonight.

-Matifat had to pay, what happened?

-I do not know,

but if it whistles, we're dead.

We will never recover.

-It won't whistle. Where is Singali?

- Well, in the room!

- The most important thing was to pay the slap.

Applause or whistles that we bought from specialists.

The best known of these whistlers was called Singali.

He had shot hundreds of plays, actresses and authors.

Everyone was afraid of him

and they were right.

You wanted to destroy a competitor? Pay Singali.

You wanted a triumph?

Pay Singali, he took care of everything.

He had set up his little business

where he trained his teams before the shows.

-Attention.

-Men and women who mixed with the spectators.

Impossible to spot them before the disaster.

You could buy everything a la carte.

Light applause, standing with cheers,

laughter, laughter...

Or on the contrary whistles, boos,

possibly tomato squirts...

All you had to do was pay.

Mediocre piece or masterpiece? No difference.

The important thing was to run his shop

collecting more and more.

He had succeeded in laying down the law on the boulevard.

The people of the show were at his mercy

and he was checking them all out.

- Here, come see.

It's the little bald guy.

He is planning his move.

-Is it going to whistle or not?

-The actresses had to buy the applause

and prevent paid whistles by their rivals.

- We'll take care of it, don't worry.

You will be wonderful.

-Destitute, they had to find a rich protector

to pay what was called their "reputation fee".

Mostly he was a textile trader

or the cosmetics industry, then booming.

The luckiest

even became muses for beauty product brands.

Those brands that bought newspaper inserts,

thus rewarding their benevolence

and complacent articles on these same muses.

These advertisements brought so much to the newspapers

that these industrialists would become secretly

the real bosses of the modern press.

And the politicians understood it well.

They were ready for all the arrangements

with these tycoons,

to avoid being attacked in their newspapers.

Everyone frolicked in the same puddle of interests.

But still above them, at the top of the pyramid,

there was finance and the oligarchs.

The Laffite, Rothschild, Nucingen and all their intrigues on the stock market.

They were the ones pulling the strings of all these puppets.

The new aristocracy was that of money

and we weren't about to cut off his head.

One day or another, who knows,

a banker would enter the government.

-Let's talk to this Singali.

- He has been paid, he must be paid more.

-On stage in 10 minutes!

-So what do we do ?

-Etienne! Matifat is in the dressing room. -Yes. I will be back.

- They're going to ruin the evening for us.

We have to pay, we have no choice.

-Always pay. When will it stop?

- There are whistlers, we have no choice.

- So, let's cancel.

-No, we'll do two pages tomorrow.

- You have to pay, you have no choice.

-Sure.

- Can you participate? -Sure, what question !

-How high ?

-Not in front of the ladies. Up to my dignity.

- Fine, we'll pay.

Tell Singali the money is coming.

- I warn him.

Come on, we're late!

-Thank you my love. He's laughing.

Applause Ringing of bells

-Come on, let's sit on the balcony.

- It's good, he paid, we applaud.

- Are you coming to Florine? -Why not.

-You weren't supposed to give me your article, were you?

-I looked for you

everywhere at Dauriat.

I present to you Lucien de Rubempré.

-Ah! "Curious about nullity", is that you?

Your formula has made the rounds of the Galleries.

Are you writing somewhere?

-M. Finot is the director of the newspaper where I write.

-Where you write nonsense.

See you at Florine's?

-Yes. -I need to talk to you,

without fail.

- He's a smart one.

He did well in his province.

Excuse me.

Upbeat music

...

-It does not bother you ?

Matifat and your Florine.

- No, what do you want.

It's like loving a married woman. We learn to share.

Look well.

In front of you, you have the 200 most harmful people in Paris.

At least half of them want me.

But they won't move.

And you know why ? -No.

-Because they are afraid.

- Are they afraid of you?

-From Journal.

They are right to be afraid.

With all their tricks.

One day, you will meet her again, your baroness,

and you will read the fear in his eyes.

And it will be beautiful.

-It's going to be a wonderful wedding !

- No, I will not marry her.

- She won't marry him. -Claro that yes.

Formerly, in a small Spanish village,

in the mountains...

- Her name was Coralie and she was not 20 years old.

Her blood red stockings

had become famous in barely a season on the boulevard.

Looking at her, a deep desire

invades Lucien to take this world by the throat

and put him on his knees before him.

-Bravo !

-Ladies and gentlemen...

Coralie and Florine!

-Bravo !

triumphal music

...

-The rhythm in the skin!

-Where is the bottle?

Help yourself to a drink, I'll be back.

Lively piano music

...

A woman sings in Italian.

...

-We will be back.

-Are there more bottles? - Where are we?

-Florine, finally at Matifat. We do not care.

My piece was called "Enough Champagne".

Good title, right? -Not bad.

- You have to give me back your articles!

- Here, that of Blondet at the opera. -Very well.

Thank you.

So we have Déjazet. The Opera is there.

The Italians, very good. Varieties, who is it?

-It's there, it's me.

- Is this a criticism? - No, a summary.

-What is that ?

- Tomorrow's newspaper. If everyone gives me back their paper.

Lousteau laughs.

...

- Is he a friend of Lousteau?

-Are you sure he likes women?

- In any case, he looks at them.

There is something honest about it.

- Take care of yourself, darling.

They're laughing.

...

-It's not about selling

but to join forces with Blondet's journal.

Combine our two titles and divide the costs by two.

By increasing the price of ads,

we can lower the selling price and find new readers.

-The more readers there are, the more the ads will be sold.

-Here is. You see when you want.

-Who would finance the operation?

-Dauriat, Camusot and me.

We need a fourth, but I want to keep the majority.

Could your Florine talk to her perfumer about it?

-We'll try.

-You would be editor-in-chief.

But I would retain editorial control.

-I will still make friends.

-You ? You would pay to sell yourself.

What is that ? -Pineapple fritters, sir.

-Thank you.

-Are you going to see Coralie? She was looking for you everywhere.

- Are you a pimp too?

-I thought you didn't have a penny left.

Ah, there you go!

-Berthier, are you the one who writes on the play?

-Not, but beautiful.

Tonight, I have so far.

-Shall we ask Mr. Lucien?

It would change us from these liars. What does he think,

Mr. Lucian? -Ah yes.

Find us a good formula, Lucien.

-Very good idea.

- You are obligated to nothing, sir.

But it would make me very happy.

- Show us, big boy. You saw it, the room.

-Why not ?

Soft music

...

-Easy styling effects,

command enthusiasm and the desire to seduce a girl,

this is how Lucien wrote his very first article.

- "The intrigue was then renewed

"and I let her reconnect,

"but I can tell you what's clear and what's dark.

"Don José's daughter is there, represented

"by a real Andalusian, and she brings

"love on the lips.

"We want to jump on the stage

"and to offer him his heart."

Say, not bad!

"She will be what she wants to be, she was born to do everything,

"is not it

"what is the best to say about a boulevard actress?"

And.

"At the end, I was asked what the coin was worth..."

What did you answer, Lucien?

-That she had red stockings

and the face of a first love.

-Bravo.

Not bad.

- Gentlemen, to your articles, to your lies!

-And the Baron du Châtelet,

you know ?

- The one who wanted to be prefect of the Charentes?

-Hm hm.

-In Angouleme,

it was called "La Pintade". He is close to the Marquise d'Espard.

-He would like to.

But the d'Espard,

it's another world, friends.

King's inner circle, huge influence.

-He knows a lot of people.

- They don't know me anymore.

-Is this your first time smoking?

-Non.

-Daisies...

The Daisies.

They laugh.

Coralie laughs.

Sighs of pleasure

...

-How are you ?

-Yes.

-Oh, oh, oh !

-Lucien !

Lucien ?

It's not okay ?

-That evening, perhaps he had already seen too much,

too drunk, heard too much.

Paris had lifted her skirt to show the young poet,

as to a worthy follower,

her monstrous nudity.

Soft music

...

-Sir ! - Coralie!

-Wake up ! We hurry!

- Open the window, look!

-What are you doing here ?

- Did I wake you up? Come see, it's a gift.

I got it from you red, like your stockings, darling.

-It's for me ? But you are crazy!

-M. Camusot is in the courtyard, he risks going upstairs.

Get dressed!

- Her name is Ruby.

Get down, we're going to the woods, the weather is fine.

-I'm going to talk to him.

- You're not going to do anything at all.

-Go on ! Wait, I'm going up.

-No no !

Go quickly.

He won't stay, don't move.

Mimi ?

- Oh, my little heart.

You weren't sleeping? - No, I repeated.

- Hello, Berenice. -Hello.

-You're crazy !

Laughter

-Wait, I'll be right back. Berenice!

What time do you have to be at the theatre?

You will have to go to Guérigny.

Do you care? I will give you money.

There they were!

-I thought they were with your costumes. -No,

they were there.

I will play a man, the theater gave me boots,

but they are too big.

I put some newspaper, but it hurts me.

Are you taking me to my rehearsals? I will try out my new car.

I've never had a car, I don't know how it drives.

-I will show you.

- You are completely crazy.

She laughs out loud. The car pulls away.

-I'll find you some shoes.

- She is attached to this man?

-He's the one who takes care of us.

He saved us.

- What an actress.

-I don't want her to lose everything because of a crush.

What's your shoe size ?

- "My very dear sister, I write to you very little and I apologize for it,

"but in Paris, you don't see the time passing.

“Life there is frighteningly fast.

“First I have important news.

“I finally met a great publisher.

"His name is Dauriat and he expressed a keen interest in my poetry.

"To devote myself fully to my writing,

"I had to distance myself from Mme de Bargeton

"and its uninteresting worldliness.

"Our separation made him suffer a lot,

"But I had no choice.

“And without money, it is impossible to make a place for yourself.

“Imagine, I have already spent nearly 1,800 francs.

"I have to limit my spending if I want to survive.

“Paris is a strange abyss. People spend there on all occasions,

"even to cross the stream when it rained.

"But we meet people there that can change a life,

"rush you in the most unexpected directions

"the brightest.

"I met a brilliant writer

"who offered me to write for a well-respected journal.

"Do not worry.

"Journalism will never keep me from staying focused

on my poetry.

"Lucien."

Jingle Bells Youyous

... ...

- Gentlemen! Gentlemen!

Meeting !

This is the big day !

Gentlemen.

Today we celebrate the union of our two dear newspapers,

The Corsair and The Satan .

The newspaper will now be called

The Corsair-Satan.

Acclamations

Yes, you had to think about it!

And our comrade Lousteau

will be the illustrious editor-in-chief.

-BRAVO !

-Lousteau, one of the great consciences of our time.

Laughter

Dirt, go!

Over to you, Lousteau.

- Gentlemen.

Warn the theater managers,

publishers,

authors, actresses, traders, musicians,

the Pope if you want,

that no more article of this newspaper will be sold with less than 150 francs.

-YEAH !

-150 francs per item!

-YEAH !

-Our editorial line will be simple.

The newspaper will hold as true all that is probable!

- There was then a specific word to define false information.

It was called a duck,

because sensationalist fake news

made everyone run, like after ducks.

To make the event

a newspaper could print everything.

Truth or canard,

we didn't dwell on that kind of detail.

They understood it, false information

and a denial was already two events.

The only truth that mattered

was that of the newspaper's sales figures.

So the famous ducks ran free in Paris,

we did not yet know how to chain them.

-Oh ! Long live the emperor !

-Businessmen, merchants, authors, politicians and theater owners...

Everyone came to the editorial office

to buy an item, spread a gossip

or give an interested gift.

-Paper ! -A new industry was being invented,

that of the opinion press that has become a commercial press.

-Paper !

-The newspaper was a shop that sold to the public

news of the color he wanted.

The aim was no longer to enlighten the reader,

but to flatter his opinions, or rather to invent them.

Information became commonplace commodities

to peddle to customers, subscribers.

-Paper !

-Some journalists became merchants of phrases,

word smugglers,

brokers who imposed themselves between the artists and the public.

-Paper ! - And Lucien learned quickly.

Very quickly. His pen had rage. A rage for revenge.

Rumors, mocking jokes... In a few days, he had written

dozens of funny and fierce articles

which would become his signature.

-Isn't it pretty? Paid the same day.

-Not bad. -It's not over. Eh yes !

They laugh.

Coralie will be happy.

She laughs.

- Is there any champagne left?

-And how old were you? -I must have been 13 or 14 years old.

-And your own mother gave you...

- Not given, sold!

And when I found out how much, I saw that I wasn't worth much.

It was a small troop, they took care of me.

They taught me to dance.

-And after ?

-The gentlemen started hovering around me

and I've seen ugly things with the other girls.

There have been many stories.

-And after ?

-When I was 15, I was hired to do mime shows.

It was the fashion in Paris.

Then here it is.

That's how I met Florine.

-Thank you.

-You're way too handsome for me.

You are going to hurt me.

You're going to meet a rich marquise and presto, no more Coralie.

-I didn't know you could make love like that.

- When I give myself, I give myself entirely.

Otherwise what good is it?

I know you're not like them.

You are going to do great things.

I'm not smart, but I feel it.

I feel those things.

melancholic music

...

-"A guinea fowl held in its beak

"a cuttlebone and the driest.

"This guinea fowl

"was from Angoulême, on the banks of the Charente.

"What do you think happened? It was the guinea fowl that died."

Our friend the Baron will love this article.

-Lucien didn't write that. - He does not sign,

but there is his name on the next page.

He has the audacity to continue signing de Rubempré.

Is he able to tell certain things

that would embarrass you,

my dear Cousine ?

-It's better than that.

-You think ?

-It's my remorse.

- Well then adopt it, let's get it over with.

- Far from living rooms,

Lucien continued his apprenticeship at the newspaper.

Overwhelmed by the number of books received,

the editors presented to their monkey

the works they were to write about.

- So, Stendhal or Châteaubriand?

-According to the reactions of the primate,

we decided to support or kill a play or a novel,

to attack without conscience the mask and the feather.

-He chose !

-In all ways,

everything would be settled by having someone crash.

And at that time, business was booming.

More and more readers. -Hugo or Byron?

Byron !

-To meet the growing demand,

German engineers had created the 1st rotary printing machine.

From now on, we could print 20 times more pages per hour.

Distribution would thus increase from a few thousand

see you soon hundreds of thousands of copies

where the advertisements would bring in more and more.

Advertising offices were being created everywhere

to help manufacturers find the right grip

to sell products to readers

which they usually did not need.

Singali also needed to step up a gear.

To increase his profits, he had created a curious machine

which he had baptized "The Glory Machine".

By turning a crank,

small wooden plates were operated

which imitated the sound of applause.

He hoped that upon hearing the fake applause,

the public would follow the movement mechanically.

- What an invention!

-For whistles and boos, he planned to install cornets

hidden in the dark recesses of theaters.

Eventually he would forget his machines to continue by hand,

as a good craftsman,

and keep a real contact with the public.

And, of course, the artists.

-Ah! Cruel,

is it time to tell me?

What have you done ?

Alas! I thought I was loved.

Looking forward to seeing you my accustomed soul

Only lives for you.

Did you ignore your laws,

When I confessed it to you for the first time?

How much love...

- Mr. Director. - You asked to see me?

-Yes.

We know each other ?

-I know very well who you are.

-You will audition a lot of actresses

for the role?

- It's a difficult role.

I do not have a choice.

-We always have the choice.

You do not believe ?

My friends, please.

My friends.

To Coralie and her first major role.

playful music

...

-Don't worry, you too are going to play Racine.

You will discover the feelings.

...

-You have very nice boots, sir.

I seem to have seen them somewhere before.

Non ?

I would give everything I have

to make her look at me like that.

- Sir, accept that your role ends.

She doesn't need you anymore.

-I don't want her to miss anything.

- For me, sir,

you are nobody.

-Like he said that.

-Your articles make me laugh, you make me mean.

-So much the better.

Madame.

She won't miss anything.

Good evening, sir.

-A little actress from the boulevard

landed a repertoire role

discreetly made more than one smile.

The success of his articles and the conquest of Coralie

were two head-turning triumphs

less young than that of Lucien.

He had the awkwardness to display his success and worse still,

to show off his happiness.

Coralie took Lucien to all the parties

and offered his journalist the right costumes

so that it shines on his arm in All-Paris.

She wanted to teach Lucien to play with life,

as she knew how to do on stage.

But art and literary glory,

there was no more question.

Coralie laughs.

triumphal music

...

Applause

Upbeat music

...

-Good evening.

I present to you Miss Coralie.

You don't greet her

because she's an actress, right?

We applaud him on stage,

but we do not greet her in life.

-It's enough. -An actress is not

a woman decent enough for people like you?

-Tell me, my favorite enemy, where are you with Dauriat?

- For the moment, I have to earn my living at the newspaper.

And I inherited nothing.

-Neither do I.

-You haven't even inherited a name, Mr. Chardon.

- My name is Rubempre.

- Thistle or Rubempre,

your articles will soon be forgotten.

- That's enough, Lucien, we're leaving.

- And your literary ambitions, have you already given up?

-Do not worry.

-We're leaving. -Miss.

I admire your acting talent.

Can I invite you to dance?

-Excuse me sir,

but I no longer have the heart to dance.

- Good evening, Louise.

- Was it her?

She is beautiful.

She doesn't look very happy.

Why did they call you Chardon?

-My father was called Chardon

and my mother was born Amélie de Rubempré.

And I want to carry my mother's name.

- It doesn't change anything for me.

You have only one name.

That of my love.

Soft music

Sighs of pleasure

...

...

I am sick, Lucien.

This is called phthisis of the lungs.

A kind of tuberculosis.

You have to do good things.

Everything is rotten everywhere, don't you think?

You have to fight to do good things.

-I don't want your poetry! It's wasted money.

-Lucien is part of the newspaper now.

-Are you trying to intimidate me, little man?

It's unsaleable, we're going to make a fool of ourselves.

-There are many for whom literature matters.

A look at the world, a taste for beauty...

Even for a handful of readers.

Even for a single reader.

- Only one reader? -Yes.

- But you are sick.

I don't care about your Daisies.

In what language should you say it? Here, come, you.

I have to talk to you about Berthier.

-What ?

-He starts chasing me, too. Thank you.

Here, you do this.

Do what we said. Do your job. -Sure.

- He will end up taking them, your Daisies.

-I try to impose my conditions on him.

-Yes.

I'd like to talk to you, Lucien.

I know your texts.

Louise...

She talked about you and Angoulême the other night,

with a lot of emotion.

She read some of your poems to us.

There were some really good things.

Really.

She's a wounded woman.

She means you no harm.

"How could she hurt me now?"

By sending you to trap me?

-Don't see enemies everywhere.

- You have no enemies?

- I content myself with what is necessary.

What I have in life is creation.

And you too, I know.

For the rest, all these shenanigans,

these endless palavers,

it's just noise, wind.

We have to learn to play with all that.

-Lucien ?

Let's go ?

-See you soon, I hope.

- Do you want revenge on Dauriat?

Nathan's book comes out on Wednesday.

He bet big on it. Very big !

Have fun.

-Nathan came to talk to me.

-Obviously, he wants everyone to like him.

He is afraid of what we are going to write. He's right.

He told you about the love of art?

He had tried the same trick with me.

Have fun.

Hectic music

...

-Envious of many,

Nathan had become a prominent figure in the literary world.

We envied his insolent youth and his style.

We were fighting over his friendship

and his network of influence among the royalists.

Even if some did not see in him

only a false glory made with blows of articles and press.

...

-So how are you doing?

-Étienne, I can't say anything bad about this book.

He has a strength...

a feeling.

He has a real talent, this Nathan.

It's inspired,

sincere,

never agreed. -Please !

-I assure you. He has the right distance from his subject.

Here, listen to the last sentence.

"I no longer hope for anything and I begin to live."

Looks like Corneille.

-He certainly stung Corneille.

- How can you say anything bad about it?

-We can always speak ill, it's a form of spirit to take.

-That is to say ?

-I'm going to tell you a story.

One day, two critics are on a boat

on Lake Tiberias, in the Holy Land.

Suddenly,

Christ appears

and begins to walk on water.

One reviewer leans towards the other and says:

"You see, he can't even swim."

If the book is moving, say it is complacent.

If it is classic, it is academic. If he is funny, he is superficial.

If he's smart, he's pretentious.

If he's inspired, he's a hotshot. And then you unroll.

-If the story is well constructed, it is predictable.

If the author has style, it's to hide

that he has nothing to say.

-Here is.

You can go for the length too.

It always hurts. Everything is always too long.

So confused, not mastered.

We don't see where the author is coming from. Does he himself know?

-If it's mastered, it lacks madness.

- Yes, and if it's crazy, it's incoherent!

Lets' go.

We'll take care of the Nathan.

-His desire for revenge

Dauriats, Louises, Angoulême and all over the world

held Lucien's inspiration to assassinate Nathan's work.

This critical pleasure, dark and solitary,

is like a duel with an absentee, wounded from a distance by the stroke of a pen.

And despite the ease and vulgarity of this mocking spirit,

it is often well received by some newspapers.

Hectic music

- "So say

"à M. Nathan d'Anastazio

"not to jump off a bridge right away,

"because he still has a lot of people to disappoint."

They laugh.

This is admirable bad faith. -Thank you.

-What's the matter ?

-I don't even know if I like the book anymore.

-It does not matter. What you write is forgotten the same day.

It ends up packing the fish.

-We can also write works that last,

defend ideas in which we believe.

Nathan, I'm sure...

-Stop with Anastazio's Nathan! He's a social puppet.

-Like us.

-Like us, exactly.

He's going to die of it, big Dauriat.

-In the morning, Lucien sent to Dauriat

the manuscript of the article versus Nathan's book.

Before posting it,

Lousteau and Lucien wanted to warn the publisher

that a cabal threatened his foal of the moment.

- Is it Lucien who signs this rag?

-Obviously.

...

-Lucien made the sultan of the edition wait a good hour.

He supposedly had urgent business to attend to.

- I brought your article back to you.

How wicked.

You have come a long way.

-You think ? -Hmm hm.

I'm uneducated, but my eyes have been opened

on the beauty of your Daisies.

So I changed my mind, I buy your poems.

-I am very annoyed.

I received other offers.

-Ah bah, j'imagine.

They have to fight to publish poetry.

But beware.

From the moment I buy your book,

you are part of the family,

this means that you will never attack my authors again.

-I have to keep my independence.

-Your independence? -Yes.

-I bought half of the Paris reviews,

don't talk to me about independence.

-Excuse me.

I have work. -Ah yes.

You call that a job?

- Shall I accompany you?

If we do business together,

I would like to choose the paper, the typography and the illustrations.

-Yes.

They told me it was your first job.

-I was an orphan, I had to live.

- Oh, it's very very moving.

Have you considered making a novel out of it?

Ah yes ! The Orphan of Angoulême .

They throw him into Paris, he loses his footing, he drowns.

And then, not stupid, he observes, he learns.

But will he remember that he had higher ambitions?

-Let's go.

Dauriat ?

Did you at least open my manuscript?

I would like to know for sure.

-Leave your little heart out of it all, young man.

You have influential friends, famous enemies,

people talk about your bad articles in Paris.

That's it, you're on the scene. You are part of the show.

-A spectacle ? -Yes.

-What if now, I wanted to

to speak highly of Mr. Nathan's book.

-200 francs, paid cash.

-Come on, 200 francs...

It's a lot more work to say good things.

You know it. -Ah yes !

Especially for a freelancer like you.

-Make me another offer.

-So, let's say 250.

-Let's say 500.

-500 ?

No one is paid that price.

-That's my price.

-500 then, with an ad on the front page.

-Agreed.

But I will do it for nothing.

I will do so out of respect for literature.

Tell Nathan.

-You will need him as he needs you.

-This time, Lucien expressed sincere admiration

that he had experienced for this novel

which no doubt he would have liked to write.

The next day, Lucien's laudatory article

appeared as promised on the first page of the famous Corsaire-Satan .

The controversy was on.

giggles

...

We were excited about this new critic

able to rise above partisan bickering

out of a taste for beauty and without a second thought.

Incredible event, a royalist deputy had even

quoted in the Chamber one of Lucien's formulas.

The comedy was also played in the hemicycle.

Henceforth, the beautiful name of Rubempré was on everyone's lips.

Lucien had become a recognized journalist, a Parisian figure,

with all the advantages associated with his new status.

- Well, say so.

He wasted no time, the Daisies!

-You are there.

We did everything at the last minute,

it's not over yet.

- It's going to take a long time to pay for all that.

- Camusot obtained six months of credit for us.

-Bravo.

-Where is Lucien? -Upstairs.

He's preparing a surprise, we're expecting people tonight.

How do you like it ?

It's the first time I have a place of my own.

-Congratulation. -Thank you.

-Ask for the newspaper!

Here it is.

The newspaper, sir.

The newspaper, the newspaper, ask for the daily newspaper.

The newspaper, we have copies. The newspaper...

Here it is, it is that of today.

Go ahead, read it! The newspaper.

Ladies and gentlemen, glory to the newspaper.

-BRAVO !

-The newspaper, sir? -Well done !

-Here it is !

The newspaper, ma'am.

And don't forget, read the newspaper.

-BRAVO !

-In Paris !

And, and...

to our Loves !

Acclamations

...

-I believe the time has come to baptize Lucien

authentically.

one knee down,

brave and proud knight without fear and without principles.

- Without any principle!

-The name

bad faith,

false rumor and advertisement...

I baptize you journalist.

Applause

-Bravo! Bravo!

...

- Go, go, go, go!

It's free !

...

-Let's open at 50 francs, friends.

-The friends !

There are no friends!

-It's a way of speaking.

Well, do you want tokens or not?

-Of course we want tokens.

- It was funny, right?

-Very.

- I didn't think you would come.

- I was touched by what you wrote.

- But I was sincere.

How is the release of your book going?

-Listen...

Good. My royalist friends support me,

or at least lead me to believe so.

And thanks to you, the liberal press should spare me.

- Literature comes out on top.

-Dependent contrast.

I bring a personal message.

From Louisa.

I saw her this afternoon.

-The newspaper is preparing attacks against Châtelet and his clique.

I can not do anything about it.

-But Louise makes fun of Châtelet and politics.

She would like to see you again.

She runs a great risk by doing this.

You are his friends' pet peeve.

-I hope so.

- She would like to help you on a point that is important to you.

-That is to say ?

- She will explain it to you herself.

...

-The appointment with Louise was taken away from all eyes.

Those looks that had always condemned to death

the couple of Louise and Lucien.

-Lucian. -Hello, Nathan.

-How are you doing ? -Good. Is it your home?

- Oh no, we're at a friend's house.

A discreet man, protector of artists

where I occasionally come to blacken a bit of paper.

-Agreed.

-Come.

She's waiting for you, right there.

- I thought of you when I saw all these books.

Do you still love reading?

-It has become my job.

-I say.

I know your newspaper.

I didn't know you were capable of being so severe.

But the Châtelet guinea fowl made us laugh a lot.

Everyone read his caricature under the coat.

-I thought he was your friend. -Yes, I thought so.

I believed it too

and I understood that he had played comedy on me.

He wanted to approach my cousin to push him to court.

He got his way.

He will leave Paris to be appointed prefect of Charentes.

That way he'll go back there.

We may be doomed to the provinces.

- You and I, we got out of it.

- What madness to leave together.

I was lost, Lucien.

I was alone.

I too was scared.

And I hurt you.

Now, I would like to appease your resentment and be forgiven.

I can help you find your name and title.

But the only way to get an order from the King

is to ask for it as a reward for services rendered to the Château.

-What services?

-Lucien, stop your attacks against our friends.

I know your story better than anyone.

Circumstances have made you our enemy,

but deep down you are one of us.

I know it.

Often, I miss the countryside.

I'm tired of Paris.

There was something beautiful between us there.

-I learned everything with you.

Until sorrow.

- How is your pretty fiancée?

I would like to see her play, they say she is wonderful.

-I am very much in love.

melancholic music

...

- She will also be entitled to her poems?

...

Hectic music

-M. the Viscount has gone out, he begs me to deliver this letter to you.

-"Dear Lucien, many great men began with two names.

"Poquelin before Molière, Arouet before Voltaire,

"Bonaparte before Napoleon.

“The first name is like the preface to the other.

"Thistle or Rubempre,

"I recognized in you this passion which is mine.

"I would like to protect you from the traps of this Parisian theater

"which makes us actors.

"Lucien, I must warn you that behind the scenes,

"A serious crisis is brewing.

"In the circles of power,

“new laws are announced to strangle the opposition press.

"Some around you

"have already started selling in secret.

"You are better than those lawless penpushers.

"You will know how to act.

"Your friend,

"Nathan."

-I raise my bottle at the theater

and journalism!

Laughter

...

-Come with us, sweetie.

-It's too hot !

...

- So... It was transmitted to me

a request for a genealogical study concerning the title of Rubempré.

- That's my mother's name.

- Your father being called?

-I want to forget that name.

-According to this note, you have influential supporters.

And even very influential, the Marquise d'Espard

and a baroness...

de Bargeton,

that I do not know.

-I will try not to disappoint their friendship.

-After a state of your quarters of nobility,

your request will be sent to the Keeper of the Seals,

who will transmit

in the King's Chamber,

with a favorable or unfavorable opinion.

-How long will this study take?

- This will depend on the quality of the documents found.

And of course, concrete proof of your support for our ideas.

Waiting for,

I think it's time for you to stop writing

in a newspaper hostile to the government.

The Keeper of the Seals will be particularly sensitive to this.

-I understand.

- Claiming personal work, Lucien had his latest articles carried,

but no longer appeared in Lousteau's journal.

He now had, literally,

loftier ambitions.

Already dangerously in debt,

Coralie continued her crazy spending to offer her journalist

a panoply of dandies and aristocrats.

-Shoulder, 14.

-She had learned that only superficial people

do not judge by appearances.

Suits at Staub rue de Richelieu, shirt at Mrs Ireland,

walking sticks from Verdier, boots from Farelli...

You had to buy fashionable labels,

whatever the price is.

The question of the costume is crucial

for those who want to appear to have what they don't have,

because it's the best way to own it later.

-Here is the Comte de Rubempré.

-We saw him in the woods with the Countess Coralie,

of French theatre.

She is going to play Racine there and she is incredible.

-Besides, she has to go and rehearse. Hold on.

It's an acting trick.

I've seen plenty of handsome men do that. It's fashionable.

-Ah yes ?

-Coralie was helping Lucien get ready,

but was never invited to these aristocratic feasts,

who always refused to receive an actress,

a street girl.

She was left alone with Racine,

this crushing text for his frail shoulders.

-M. the Count of Choiseul.

-Lucien saw the doors of the salons open to him

from which he had believed himself banished a few months earlier.

-M. Lucien Chardon.

Madame the Marquise de Contades.

Monsieur le Baron du Chatenet. mocking laughter

Whispers

...

- Excuse me, I'll be right back.

-His new friend Nathan sponsored Lucien

among young rich and idle aristocrats

who were called "The Livers".

-Lucien de Rubempre.

-He made a remarkable entrance with this caste

that he had once more envied than despised.

"Duke Martin Lassalle," said Jean-Lou between us.

-But blinded by the desire to obtain a title,

did he see the cold and inhuman aspect of their smile?

- There, we are complete.

Lucian writes

exciting things,

a collection of poems which will appear soon.

-Excuse me.

Soft music

...

- Sir, what's going on?

People talk to me about your Marguerites and I don't receive your poems.

- The book is not out yet.

-Louise told me the opposite.

So you won't forget me?

-Who could forget you, madam?

-Come with me, everyone wants to know you.

Here it is.

Chose promise, chose due.

-Annoyed by Louise's new Parisian grace,

the Marquise d'Espard multiplied the attentions

to become attached to Lucien, who has become the man of the moment.

-You know, this house loves rare birds.

Tonight, two young poets will cross our skies.

Gentlemen, we are listening to you.

- For Her .

-The Earth is to the Sun What man is to the angel

-One is made of splendor, the other is steeped in mire

-Every star is Sun Every star is paradise

-Around the pure globes Are the accursed worlds

-And in the shadows where the mind Sees better than the telescope

-The Sun paradise Drags the hell planet

-The angel living in the star Is fallible and, seduced,

-He can become the Dweller man of the night

-That's what the wind told me On the mountain

-Every dark globe groans

All Earth is a prison

-Where life crying

Until the day of awakening

-Comes to imprison the spirit Which falls from the Sun

-It's big.

-For several weeks,

his life became a long party between two worlds,

between two intoxications.

And his success was no less than in journalism.

He let himself be carried away by an invincible current

in a whirlwind of pleasures and debts

ever more devouring.

The game became a passion that allowed him

to sit at the same table

than this golden youth and to ape their manners

without having the family money.

He lived hand to mouth and sometimes it seemed to him that his race

to a title of nobility was only a pretext to do nothing,

simply to enjoy, to enjoy.

Nathan watched his favorite rival

to dissipate his talent in this idle life,

far from any creation.

But maybe, when you want to be able to write everything,

must we have seen everything, experienced everything...

one day to impose his particular illusion on the world.

dramatic music

...

-And here, there are these too.

How far are we going to go like this?

-I forbid you to tell him anything.

I don't want to worry him right now.

If he recovers his title, he will have protectors, a charge.

You don't know any of these things.

- Neither do you, darling.

-Lousteau!

You leave.

You leave !

Did you take the liberty of correcting my article on Ducange?

-We didn't know where you were, Dauriat paid.

-What does it mean ?

Am I more free to write?

-Dauriat has paid! He paid, are you deaf?

-I don't care that Dauriat paid.

I've had enough of your petty dealings.

-Where are your items? You got paid.

Do you rub shoulders with marquises and play politics?

Do you find that fair? Vis-à-vis the newspaper, the shareholders?

- The newspaper is going to be sold. We're gonna lose everything, is that fair?

- Do you want a trial?

- Will the newspaper be sold or not?

-Things sell, what do you understand?

You always arrive from Angoulême.

-Who do you think you are?

-You even bought a horse to show off with Nathan.

With your waistcoats, your floral suspenders, you're ridiculous.

And Coralie comes to cry because you're broke.

- No, I forbid you to talk about her!

- Without us you would be nothing! You hear ? Nothing.

An air current.

Where would you be without me?

At the bottom of the Seine.

The door opens.

-Hello miss.

- Thank you for having me, madam.

Lucien doesn't know I'm here.

He often spoke to me about you.

With great respect.

I know you are not like them.

-What can I help you with ?

-I read his poems before. There was love between you.

-Love of literature.

-His book is not yet published and he has already spent the money advanced.

He has no sense of these things.

The money slips through his fingers. -It is an artist.

-Exactly.

I was told that there were official orders at the Court

to help royalist artists.

You could tell your friends about it.

-I can find out.

-It's a little pressing.

- In the meantime, I could put a sum at your disposal.

It would be our secret.

-Non.

I believe in hard work, lady.

We work and we are paid for our work, whatever it is.

I would like him to find his inspiration,

his desire to do beautiful things.

-You are right.

-You are a very beautiful woman.

I envy your manners and your elegance.

You're not going to take it from me?

Because I would die of it.

...

-She left.

-Don't tell me she's a good girl.

- They don't have a penny left.

-As expected.

- Gentlemen!

Gentlemen, gentlemen.

The time has come for the restoration of this beautiful and noble idea,

journalism.

Let's publish...

Publish a newspaper with real integrity and responsibility.

Let's be worthy

and honourable.

We will never give in to money,

interested gifts, influence peddling.

In short, to this corruption

which dishonors our mission.

That's why I chose this title:

The Revival .

A moral, social, political and artistic awakening!

Only...

Only our readers will be able to buy from us!

-He is also very happy with his little character,

the director of Réveil would be involved later

in an influence peddling case.

He would be sent back to justice and dragged through the mud by the press,

while being indignant at these journalists who posed as judges.

And if the liberal Corsair-Satan had his ducks,

The Royalist Revival had its pigeons.

Pigeons that could fly in the morning from Paris

and arrive the same afternoon in London.

Thanks to this network of birds, the circulation of fake news

experienced a spectacular acceleration, which was also very profitable.

Lucien was paid by the line and Coralie by the receipts.

But he hadn't written anything yet and she was still in rehearsals.

So they had some stiff new guests: the ushers.

-I will return to the boulevard to show my thighs.

If necessary, it must.

It is not serious.

That's not the serious stuff.

She laughs.

You can't take that from us.

Do not worry.

-He betrayed us, that bastard.

He signed with the Royalists.

With the royalists!

That's enough now. It has to be knocked down.

You have to type where it hurts, the story of your particle.

His jacket reversals. His way of life.

-Nathan. -His chick.

-Warning, it is supported by d'Espard.

-You're wrong.

I think she despises him as much as we do.

There is nothing more harmful than these women.

Especially d'Espard.

- How could I help this wretch?

-It reassured you, to play the big brother.

He at least has ambition, who do you have up your sleeve besides me?

What do you have ?

The friends,

there are no friends.

-Before the end of the day you will justify me.

Farewell, madam.

- O heavens, what a speech! Stay.

Prince, it's too much to hide my trouble from your sight.

You see a distraught queen,

Who, death in the womb, asks you for two words.

-Thank you for coming so quickly.

- All that sounds good to me.

- They're going to go after her on the night of the premiere.

They will go down the room.

-I haven't heard of anything.

-How much do you want ?

-It seems that you are in a bad patch.

-I have the money to pay you. Finally, I will have it.

-I trust you, Lucien, but people talk.

-Do not worry.

I have protectors.

I have a new diary.

-I heard, you changed sides. I won't blame you,

I spent my life selling myself to the highest bidder.

-I want it to be a great night.

- Don't worry, mom is here.

We're going to give your princess a triumph.

You know I saw it debut?

She was cute.

dramatic music

...

-Berthier will have nothing.

Come in, come in, Lucien.

You want to drink something ?

Close the doors.

Lousteau says you haven't returned multiple items

which have been paid to you.

Expensive, by the way.

He wants to send you the bailiffs, make a scandal, a trial.

-That's not what will give him talent.

-That's not true.

He swore you dead, too.

He's a small player

a second knife.

Non ?

Are you still close to the Marquise d'Espard?

-I was received at her home. Yes.

-Impressive.

Then I will soon have a favor to ask of you.

An important service.

Would you accept?

-I need allies.

I know your influence. - Then you can help me.

I would like to consolidate a newspaper,

an advertising bureau and an information agency.

Form a kind of group,

of association.

We will have to find funding,

invest.

As my English friends say,

economic liberalism will be the freedom of the free fox

in a free henhouse.

He cackles.

I have no desire to end up eaten like chicken.

Neither do you, am I wrong?

-Non.

- Power wants to control everything, prevent everything, slow everything down.

They are afraid of the new press, of the new world.

They don't understand it. You have to reassure them.

I'm not going to get mad at you and your friends for a...

puppet like Lousteau.

You understand ?

-Yes.

-I will be grateful.

So I suggest that...

you gave me some small items

satirical your way

to pay us what you owe us

and we'll leave it at that, would that be fine with you?

-If my name does not appear.

-Your name ? Which name ?

Thistle or Rubempre? We no longer know.

-The same day, Finot sent Lucien a list of personalities

that he should attack.

He had met some

in the various salons he had passed through.

whatever,

his pen ran over the paper, anonymous,

as separate from itself.

Attacking public men by flaunting their private lives

was now part of the games of the journalistic circus.

By handing over to Finot

the little anonymous articles he owed her,

Lucien threw himself into the mouth of the wolf.

-Perfect.

He saw nothing

we hold it.

-To Lucien de Rubempre.

-Lucien !

- Come, my friend.

I have your money.

You will have the rest tomorrow.

- Don't worry, we're going to give him a triumph.

dramatic music

...

-In the life of all ambitious people there is a terrible moment

where a mysterious power subjects them to severe tests,

to punishments too long deferred.

On all sides the threads break or become tangled

and misfortune appears at all points.

Every man, unless born rich, therefore has his fatal week.

And this cruel moment had come for Lucien.

He had to see men and things turn against him.

-Have you joined a new newspaper that defends our ideas?

-It is a belated but sincere rallying, madam.

-We are talking about Lucien

to become rapporteur for the debates in the House.

It is a very well paid official position.

-Which will allow you to devote yourself to your writing work,

to your work.

And also to your young and pretty bride,

they tell me she has a great talent, don't you, Louise?

- She's a very nice person.

- Yes, it is real, alive. She would please you.

- We might be able to receive it.

After all why not ?

And then Nathan could

publish a portrait of her in your newspaper,

that would flip the coin.

She will play Racine,

it is deserving, it is the blood of France.

-It's a very nice idea, ma'am.

- Racine was also born bourgeois, you know.

And then he was ennobled by dint of genius

and intrigue.

- The compromise is of all the centuries.

-Fortunately, there is love.

Laughter

To love.

-TO LOVE.

Soft music

...

- What have they done with us, Lucien?

-I do not know.

-Come.

I know you need it.

...

Moans of pleasure

...

Stronger.

Stronger, stronger.

...

...

dramatic music

...

-The money given by Louise

had to pay the applause at the premiere of Coralie.

Singali had promised Lucien that he would shake the chandeliers.

All the characters who had passed through his Parisian life,

his human comedy,

were present that evening, dressed in their evening clothes,

with their beautiful figures as masks,

in this theater of the world

where the worst people often have the best seats.

It's a whole society that had made an appointment

for the big night of lovers.

-Thank you.

dramatic music

...

Ringing of bells

...

Applause

...

...

-Prince,

it's too much to hide my trouble from your sight.

You see before you a distraught queen

Who, death in the womb, asks you for two words.

You are afraid, you say, of disturbing my rest;

And your cruel refusals, far from sparing my pain,

Excite my pain, my anger, my hatred.

Lord, if my rest is so precious to you,

If ever I was dear to you...

-Everything is fine ?

-It's going to be beautiful.

- In the name of the gods, ma'am... - What?

Are you so little afraid of disobeying me?

-I have only to speak to make myself hated.

-I want you to talk. -Gods ! What violence!

-She offered herself entirely,

expressing a truth of a truly loving woman

under her actress mask.

But unable to face a room whose hostility she felt,

the coldness of the public could chill her.

The applause was useless to his self-esteem,

but essential to his courage. -What ?

- A queen is suspect to the Roman Empire.

You must separate, and you leave tomorrow.

-Separate us !

Alas, Phoenice!

- Well, ma'am?

- By dint of sincerity,

the little actress had to find unexpected accents that evening...

- After so many oaths...

-.. and even heartbreaking. -Titus abandon me!

Titus who swore to me...

No, I can't believe it:

He does not leave me, his glory depends on it.

Against his innocence

they want to warn me... Whistles.

boos

dramatic music

... ...

Cris

... ...

-Singali!

... ...

Singali!

Singali!

Singali!

-Faithful to its principles, Singali had at the last moment

sold to the highest bidder, for a good price.

-Let me go !

- What was Lucien in this world of ambitions?

A child who ran after the pleasures of vanity,

sacrificing everything to them, changing light

like a butterfly, a slave to circumstances.

-Bastard!

-His conscience was then a ruthless executioner.

...

The next day in their newspapers,

Lousteau and his friends happily slaughtered Coralie's performance.

The pack was loose.

“But who does this little actress think she is?

"Pretending to embody a great tragic role

"When you spend your life showing off your thighs?

"Let Coralie return to the red stockings of her vulgarity!"

To humiliate Lucien, you had to throw Coralie into the machine,

ridicule her, stone her in public places...

And that was only the beginning.

While he had promised that these articles would remain anonymous,

Finot had spread Lucien's signature under his attacks

against the Keeper of the Seals and the royalists.

- But I was tricked! -Is that your signature?

- But it's a trap! -Who are you, sir?

A weather vane ? An air current ?

Look.

The order for the recovery of your title.

It was going to be signed by the King's own hand.

-This theatrically brandished document

was in truth only a banal piece of paper lying around.

But tearing it apart,

Lucien had for a moment the illusion of being master of his destiny.

Because there had never been a serious question

that he can access the name and title of his chimeras.

The Marquise d'Espard had invented this cruel game

to induce Lucien to betray his friends.

It was done.

The betrayal was for nothing, for no one,

as if evil, self-sufficient,

no longer pursued any earthly goal.

Whistles

The royalist government passed new laws against the press,

to muzzle the opposition.

It was the end of small newspapers. The end of an era.

-I am journalist !

-You will learn to shut up!

-The police discovered the trafficking of the editors

and uncovered a whole parallel economy.

-And freedom of the press ?

-The great and worthy press

did not fail to express his indignation at these practices.

She, of course always so independent,

continued its sacred mission to enlighten its readers.

-I would like some champagne.

-By burning their reserves,

the power hoped to silence the small newspapers.

What could become of a newspaper without ink or paper or a printing press?

Hoarse cough.

...

...

...

...

Coralie remained dignified in suffering,

his lungs devoured by disease.

Penniless and rejected by newspapers of all persuasions,

Lucien did vulgar advertising work

paid 10 francs each.

"For you, ma'am. New Macassar Oil,

"a scent of paradise."

"For your laundry, buy the famous violet soap,

"a spring of life in your cupboards."

"Buy, always buy more...

"It's a new world that opens its arms to you."

...

Few weeks later,

Matifat used his growing influence

for Florine to take over the role of Coralie.

He had bought the royalist newspaper Le Réveil

and entrusted his leadership to Nathan.

Florine's voice was white, her gesture mechanical,

but with the priced applause of Singali

and complacent critics, that made the joke.

melancholic music

...

Lucien could not afford to offer a grave to Coralie.

Funeral plots were unaffordable

since real estate speculation had touched even the cemeteries.

Eternal rest had its price,

him too.

...

-I thought you were my friend.

-I am, Lucien.

I return to writing.

What you are.

Maybe one day you'll thank me.

Lucien had to leave Paris,

to return to his place.

And it's that sad day

that I started to write his story.

The story I just told you.

The story

of his lost illusions.

melancholic music

...

This lake, he had known it since his childhood.

When entering the icy water,

he did not know whether he wanted to purify himself or die.

The remains there for a moment.

He was going to stop hoping

and start living.

...

Hectic music

...