All language subtitles for Lo straniero.1967.Eng

Go in.

Sit down.

Arthur Meursault. Citizen of Algiers.
Born in 1903. Employed as a shipping clerk.

Have you made arrangments for a lawyer?

No, in my case I don't think it's necessary.

But why not?

I think my defence is quite simple.

- Where to?
- Marengo.

THE STRANGER

Mama died today.

Or maybe yesterday, I'm not sure.

A telegram from the home said "Your mother
passed away. Funeral tomorrow. Deepest sympathy".

The home for the aged is
about 50 miles from Algiers.

I took the two o'clock bus.

It was very hot.

I fell asleep.

- Madame Meursault?
- Yes.

Would you take me to see Mama right away?

First the warden would like to see you.

We have to bury her quickly,
it's so hot out here on the plain.

You know, in this part of the country
everything goes fast, even funerals.

What an awful thing to say,
that's not nice at all.

No, that's all right, it's interesting.

Madame Meursault became part
of our family three years ago.

And you were her sole supporter?

I don't earn much as a clerk. That must
be written in your records somewhere.

No explanation is necessary, my dear fellow.

I suppose you wish to pay your respects now.

I'll have the remains placed in the
mortuary to avoid upsetting the others.

- Gaston, would you take care of Mr Meursault for me?
- Yes sir, of course.

I understand. You just weren't
able to take care of her.

She needed a nurse, and
you simply couldn't afford it.

- In any case, your mother was much happier here.
- You're right.

We had nothing to talk about any more.

And then she hated to stay alone all day.

Ah, sir, there you are.

They've already put the lid on but
I'll remove it so you may have a look.

- You don't want me to?
- No.

- Why not?
- It doesn't matter.

I know what you mean.

Why don't you sit down?

A tumour. That's what she had.

You can get some supper if you want.

Thanks just the same, I'm not very hungry.

- Would you like me to bring you some coffee with milk?
- I'd like a cup of coffee, yes.

I'll leave you alone for a while.

Night came very quickly above the skylight.

The shadows deepened into black.

You know, your mother's friends from the
home will be coming to the wake tonight.

It's customary. I'll go fetch the chairs.

And black coffee.

- How long have you lived here?
- Six years.

Cigarette?

- Can you turn off one of the lights?
- It's impossible, they're all on a single circuit.

It's all or nothing.

You know, that lady has been weeping all day.

She was your late mother's companion.
Now she says she's completely alone.

As a rule we don't permit residents to attend
the funerals, for their own good of course,

I've made an exception however for a
friend of your mother's, Thomas Perez.

It's actually quite a touching story. Mr Perez
and your mother had become almost inseperable.

The other old people used to tease
him about having a fiancee.

Actually, he was quite grieved about her death.

- It's damned hot.
- Pardon?

- I said it's hot.
- Yes.

- Is that your mother there?
- Yes.

She was old, huh?

Quite old.

I shall have vivid memories of that day.

The blood-red earth pattering on mother's coffin.

Thomas Perez crumbling like a broken marionette.

And the scarlet geraniums on
the graves in the cemetary.

Well, fancy meeting you here.

- Marie.
- I haven't seen you in ages.

- Are you still working at the shipping place?
- Yeah.

Where do you work now?

Oh, still at the same place I was working
at after I left your company.

I'm really sorry you didn't stay with us.

Wait, I'll help you up.

It was a mild day.

We stretched out on the raft and
I lay my head across her body.

She didn't seem to mind.

So I let it stay there.

The sky filled my eyes with blue and gold.

Under my head I could feel Marie's
stomach gently rising and falling.

We lay on the raft for a long time.

Well, what do you say? Will
you come to the movies with me?

Can we see the picture with Fernandel?

Are you in mourning?

For my mother.

When did she die?

Yesterday.

I remembered it was Sunday.

I don't like Sundays.

It was another glaring afternoon and
streets were shimmering in the heat.

Only a few people passed by, but
they all seemed to be in a hurry.

It occurred to me that I'd
made it through another Sunday,

that Mama was buried now and tomorrow
I'd be going back to work as usual,

and that all in all nothing had really changed.

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

Sit down.

- Are you feeling all right, Meursault?
- Thanks, I'm fine.

- Not too tired?
- No, no.

- I was sad to hear the news.
- Thank you, sir.

Tell me, Meursault, just how old was your mother?

- In her sixties.
- Ah. Pretty old.

- Emmanuel.
- Yeah?

Quick, let's go!

Hey Celeste, we're here.

- How are you, Meursault?
- Fine, but I'm starved.

Sit down then, I'll get your usual, you just relax.

What'll you have?

Hors d'oeuvres, beefsteak, Roquefort, and coffee.

Here you are.

- Good evening, Madame.
- How are you?

- Filthy mongrel, damn you.
- Has he done anything wrong?

He's always in the way. Blast him.

Come on, you.

The way he treats that dog!

- It's abominable, huh?
- No.

Hey, I got some pretty good wine.

How about having something to eat with me?

OK, thanks.

Like I said, there was this dame
I know, an old mistress of mine,

That man I told you I beat up?

He was the dame's brother.

I know what the neighbours
say, that I pimp for a living,

but that's a dirty lie, I work
in a warehouse, that's all.

Well, anyway, about this dame.

I was paying her rent, and added to
that, fifteen bucks a week for food,

and a couple of presents now and then,
I mean, that's plenty for any woman.

But madame said I was stingy, said she
couldn't make out with what I gave her.

Look, I says, why don't you work a couple of
hours a week, it's about time you help me out a bit,

Nothing doing she says, and then I start
figuring that something dirty is going on,

One day I found this lottery ticket in her pocketbook

and she wouldn't tell me where
she got the money to buy it.

Then another time I found a pawn ticket
proving she'd hocked two bracelets.

You follow me?

Who the hell gave her those bracelets?

I didn't give her any. It was someone else.

So I kicked her out,
after beating her up.

I bawled her out good, too.

I said all she ever wanted
was jumping into the sack, see?

But that isn't all, Meursault.

You'll be really sorry one day, I says,
because with me you never had it so good.

There were times I used to beat her,
but to play around, that's all.

She'd complain, scream a bit,
then we'd end up in bed.

- No thanks.
- Just a little.

But I'm through with her now.
The bitch has got to be punished.

Look, I want some advice about that.

First I thought I'd take her to a hotel, call up
the police, and have her arrested as a hooker.

Then I figured I'd call up a couple
of friends I got in the business.

But all they said was why not knock
her up, which is not what I had in mind.

So I thought I'd find out your opinion about it, Meursault.

Well, I'm not sure, but it's an interesting story.

Didn't she lie to me, Meursault? Wasn't
I right to think she was cheating on me?

Well, I guess it looks that way.

Let me tell you what I have in mind.

I've sent a letter to this dame, a letter
of the heart, you know what I mean?

But at the same time kind of dry
and to make her feel sorry.

When she gets here I'll take her to bed.

I wouldn't want to miss a chance
for a good lay, you follow me?

But as soon as we've finished I'll throw
her out for good and spit in her eye.

What do you think?

Well, that way I guess she'll get what's coming to her.

That's right. The trouble is I know what I want
to tell the bitch but I'm lousy at writing letters.

So I was hoping you might help me out.

Would you mind writing it tonight?

No.

I know you're a real bard.

Her name's Yasmine.

- Arab girl?
- Yes.

A few days later Marie came
to get me at the office.

We went for a long walk across
town, along the crowded boulevards.

The women were brown and beautiful, and
I asked Marie if she didn't think so too.

She said yes, I know what you mean.

Do you want to marry me?

It doesn't really matter.

But if that's what
you want, I will.

Do you love me?

No, I don't suppose I do.

But if you like, we'll get married.

I think marriage is a serious thing.

No.

Then she said I was strange somehow, and
that she loved me because I was strange,

but that one day she may come
to hate me for just that reason.

After that, we suddenly felt
anxious to get back to my apartment,

and to go to bed together.

I left the windows open,

and it was good to feel the cool
night air caressing our bodies.

Leave the door open to let
some fresh air in, all right?

Look what I put on...oh, what'd you get?

Ah, perfect.

- You bastard! You lousy mutt!
- What's that?

Ah, that's gone on for eight years.

The dog has a bad skin disease, it's
almost bald and covered with scabs.

And the old man looks exactly like his dog.

And what's even funnier is the dog has
learned to walk just the way the old man does.

They're like twins, but oddly
enough they can't stand each other.

Do you love me?

That doesn't mean anything.

But I don't suppose so.

- Now?
- Yes, now?

You lying whore! I'll teach you!

What's going on?

Oh, it's awful!

- Go back and call the police.
- No, I don't like to.

I'm calling the police!

Oh, thank god, a policeman's here! He's here! He's here!

Up there, officer! Hurry, it's murder! On the second floor!

Why don't you go away, go on, get going.

Oh, officer, look, he beat me!

Hey, you. What's your name?

Raymond Sintes.

Take that cigarette out of your mouth.

- Can I get my cigarette?
- Yeah, you can pick it up.

You better show a little respect for the law.

He's a pimp, he peddles whores.

- Is that legal, to call someone a pimp?
- Shut up.

- I'm not through with you yet.
- I said shut up!

And you - get out.

Go on.

You better stay right here until the chief
wants you down at the station, understand?

You're a fine sight. You're so
drunk you're trembling all over.

I'm not drunk.

When a cop glares at me I tremble in fear.

Clear out everyone, it's all over, get going.

Thanks a lot, Meursault. You're a
real sport to help me out of this mess.

You're a real pal, you know that?

That was right to tell him she cheated on me.

Cops are all alike. I know
just how to handle them.

Meursault, did you think I'd hit that guy back?

No, no. I mean, I don't care.
I don't like cops anyhow.

You want to go someplace
or pick up a couple of whores?

No, not particularly. Besides, I've
got to be up early tomorrow.

Yeah, I'm pretty tired myself, and I've
had enough of women for one day.

So we just walked slowly home.
Raymond was very nice to me.

And I thought what a
pleasant evening it was.

- What's happened?
- My dog is gone.

I took him over to the fairgrounds
tonight, as I always do.

The crowds were overwhelming at the fair.
I stopped for a minute to look at the fire-eater.

And can you imagine, he disappeared.

Of course I'd always meant to
buy a tighter collar for him to wear.

But I never thought the lousy
mutt would get away like that.

It's a shame.

He'll find his way home.

He'll starve to death first,
because nobody will take him in.

Well, he's disgusting with those scabs all over his body.

The police will shoot him, I know it.

I bet they'll just take him to the
pound. You can get him back for a fee.

Well, they can kill him for all I care.

I won't pay a cent for that mutt.

Goodnight. And thanks again,
it all came out just fine.

- We really taught that bitch a lesson.
- Goodnight.

What do you think will happen, Mr Meursault?

If they won't help me find
him, what am I going to do?

Why don't you go out and buy another dog?

- I'm already used to this one.
- I understand.

- Have you had him very long?
- Since my wife died.

I never felt much affection for my wife.

But as time went on I got used to having
her there and when she died I felt so lonely.

Then I thought about taking in a dog
and asked an old friend for one.

He brought it here, a tiny thing like that.

It was so young I had
to feed it from a bottle.

But a dog's life is shorter than a
man's so we grew old together.

We've had some fights, he and I, but
he was a good little dog, all the same.

He was a good breed?

Oh, you should have known him before he was ill.

The dog had a splendid coat everybody admired.

But the trouble was he'd gotten very old
and there isn't any remedy for old age.

Yes, I guess you're right.

Your poor mother was especially
fond of my dog, did you know that?

And you, you suffered a terrible loss too.

I hope I don't hear a dog barking
tonight. I know I'll think it's mine.

Goodnight.

I don't know why, but I suddenly thought of Mama.

Yes, that's fine. All right.

He's a pal. Name's Masson. Terrific guy.

He invited us to his beach house this weekend.

Yes, I told him all about you.

Sure, bring your girlfriend with you.

Masson's wife will like having another woman come.

Look, Raymond, I've got to hang up.

Hold on, it's important.

Will you hurry?

I want to tell you another thing.

Listen, I was tailed the whole
morning by some Arabs.

One of them is my ex-girlfriend's brother.

So look, when you get home tonight, keep
an eye open, and if you spot the guy,

you let me know, it's very important.

I will, you can count on me.

- Meursault, the boss wants to see you.
- I've got to go, goodbye.

Come in.

Please, sit down.

Listen, Meursault, I've got a little
project in mind I'd like to discuss with you.

I want to hear what you think about it.

I want to start a branch in Paris to allow us
to deal more directly with the larger companies.

I want to know if you'd
object to being sent there.

It would be a fantastic opportunity and
you could travel a great deal of the year.

You're still young, you'd have
a marvellous time in Paris.

I guess so. But I don't really care.

Aren't you the least bit tempted to change your life?

But it's impossible to change one's life.

I might as well remain where I am.

I feel reasonably content here.

Why must your head be in the clouds
all the time? You must have ambition,

and you can't succeed without that.
I'll talk to you later, you can go now.

As a student I was very ambitious.

But then I had to drop out of my school
and I realised how unimportant it was.

So I'm sorry, it's just that...

Excuse me.

What a glorious day.

What have you got in your bag, let me see.

If you're looking for something to eat, I didn't pack a thing.

But we can go for coffee.

This is Raymond. I'd like you to meet Mademoiselle Cardon.

- Let's get going.
- Great idea.

What is it?

The second one from the left, that's the guy.

Let's go.

- Is anything wrong?
- Oh, just an Arab, Raymond had a fight.

- Here comes the bus.
- Let's go then, unless you want coffee.

We can always get some later,
no point in wasting time.

I shouldn't brag about my husband,
but he's the best fisherman in Algiers.

Look what he caught this morning.

Hey, Masson! Bring another fish in to shore!

Wait for me!

You didn't remember to kiss me this morning.

I was thinking,

why not tell your boss you've
reconsidered everything he said,

and accept that job in Paris
next year. I'd come with you.

I'm dying to see Paris.

I lived there once, a long time ago.

- Isn't it pretty?
- Dirty as hell.

Pigeons, courtyards, and people with pale faces.

Hey, do you need any help? It's not fair
for me to sit by and let you do all the work.

No, stay there, I can manage
just fine, it's all right.

- Quickly, we're almost ready to eat.
- Yes, fine.

Masson's come back in, you see?

- I bet lunch is ready.
- I'm starving, too. Shall we go?

This way.

- It's only 11:30, it's true!
- I don't believe it.

We have lunch earlier than usual.

As I always say, when you're
hungry, it's high time to eat.

I propose we take a little
walk on the beach, gentlemen.

- My wife always likes to take a nap after lunch.
- Oh yes, it relaxes me.

But I prefer to walk. Walking relaxes me.

- I'll give you a hand with the dishes.
- Oh, thank you, my dear.

- Let's go, then.
- All right.

Raymond. Coming with us?

Let's start now and get it over with.

Come on.

And when you return you'll find
us curled up asleep like little dolls.

That's him, all right.

- How did they find out you were here?
- They saw us get on the bus.

In case they mean trouble I want you to
to grab the other man, I'll jump on mine.

Hey, Meursault, if another one comes, he's yours.

Meursault! Come on!

I'll rip you apart!

He's got a knife, look out!

- Did he cut me bad?
- No, it's only a nick.

- My face, look at it.
- I told you, it's not bad.

Come on, let's get you back to the house.

Madame Masson, come quick, hurry!

- What's the matter? Has there been an accident?
- It's nothing serious.

- Oh my god.
- Mademoiselle! Come out!

There's a doctor who has a beach house
on the cliff, he's usually there on Sundays.

- I'll go get him.
- No, I'm perfectly all right.

- I'll go there myself.
- I'll take you.

We got into a fight with some Arabs.

- Raymond!
- Shut up, will you.

- Raymond, wait a minute.
- I said shut up.

- Shall I shoot?
- No!

Keep cool, Raymond. It isn't fair to fire in cold blood.

All right, first I'll bait him, then I'll shoot.

No, be sensible, Raymond. Give me the gun.

Just rough him up a little. If he pulls
out his knife I'll take care of him.

- Well, I'm glad they're gone.
- We scared them away, huh?

We better go back to town,
the bus leaves at five, you know.

Are you ready, Mademoiselle Marie,
we're about to go, hurry up.

I stood for a moment on the bottom step,

my head reeling from the heat of the sun.

I didn't have the strength to climb the stairs
and face the smiling, chattering women above.

I shook off the veil of sweat
and light that blinded me.

I realised I had shot at the impassive stillness of the
afternoon and the shimmering silence of the beach.

Four shots like four fateful raps
on the door to my destiny.

I was caught robbing a store. What did you do?

I killed an Arab.

When you want to sleep, take
this mat and use it as a pillow.

You have to learn how to roll it upright.

It's the same old story,
you idiots never follow orders.

- But we did what they told us, they said put him in here.
- You got it wrong as usual, he's supposed to be in solitary.

Meursault!

Get up, come on. You're going to solitary.

Get a move on. You two take him down.

I'm your lawyer.

The court appointed me.

I've reviewed your case.

It's extremely tricky, of course.
However, I know I can get you off.

- If you be sure to follow my advice.
- Thank you.

Let's get right down to it.

They've already made inquiries into your private
life and learned that your mother died recently.

She was in a home for the aged in Marengo.

They investigated the home
and discovered, unfortunately,

that you were exceptionally
callous at your mother's funeral.

I hate to pry about this but it's quite important.

If the prosecution follows up this
accusation you could be in serious trouble.

Were you truly grieved by your mother's death?

I'm not quite sure what to say.

It doesn't seem to matter very much to me.

I cared for her, yes.

And yet there were moments I wished her dead.

- Don't we all do the same?
- Promise me not to repeat that at the trial.

Or to the prosecuting attorney.

The day they buried mother
I was tired like a sleepwalker.

I stumbled around like I was in a daze.

Naturally, I prefer that Mama was alive.

That isn't enough, Meursault. Is it all right to
say you were stifling normal emotional reactions?

No. It would be a lie.

I learned today that the director of the home
is serving as a witness for the prosecution,

with other members of the staff, this could be disastrous.

But this has nothing to do with my case.

You haven't been involved
with the law before, have you?

Tell me, did you love your mother?

Yes, like everybody does.

You fired five shots, is that
right? One after the other.

No, at first I only shot once.

Then I fired the others a little later.

I see. But what's your reason for waiting
between the initial and second shots?

Explain why you continued to shoot at the dead man.

Why?

I insist on hearing the answer.

Why?

Tell me why!

- See this? You realise what it means?
- Yes, of course.

I believe in the lord God. I believe that even the
vilest sinner can get forgiveness in God's eyes.

But first the sinner must become like a child
and in true repentance bare his soul to God.

Obviously only one point in
your confession is unclear.

The fact that you say you hesitated
before firing the second shot.

Everything else is quite in order
but that completely baffles me.

Do you believe in almighty God?

No.

That's impossible, there isn't a
single man on Earth who doesn't,

no man who doesn't acknowledge he at least exists, if
I had any doubts at all my life would have no meaning.

Do you mean to say my life is senseless?

It doesn't matter to me.

I'm a Christian and I beg the lord
to forgive you your transgressions,

but how can you deny he suffered for your sake?

You must. You must.

I'm sure you must believe in him.

No.

I've never in all my life seen
a soul as hardened as yours.

All the criminals who come in here shed
bitter tears at seeing his precious image.

Are you sorry for what you did?

I'm not sorry, exactly.

I'm rather a little annoyed.

That will be all for today,

Mr Anti-Christ.

No women. That's usually a prisoner's first complaint.

I can understand why. It's unfair to take that away too.

But isn't that the purpose of being in prison?

What purpose is that?

To put you in here and deprive you of liberty.

I forgot. I'm being punished.

And that explains it.

You have brains, you know. The others don't.

But you all end up doing it yourselves.

Hey there!

Is there anything you want?

...so I bawled her out, and guess what happened?
She started screaming 'Keep your filthy mouth shut'.

- Raymond said to send his best to you.
- Give mine to him.

- Is he better?
- Yeah, I brought him home Monday.

- Will you be OK?
- ...that goddamned fool to get married to him.

When you get out we'll get married, OK?

Time's up, everybody out.

Time's up.

Everybody out.

You'll be acquitted. We'll go swimming at the beach.

- Goodbye, Mama.

I don't think they'll let me come and see you
They won't give me permission because...because...

we're not married. They said
I could come just this once.

Five months.

Five months.

Five months here in prison.

Shall we begin?

The court shall touch on matters which may seem
unimportant but will bear on the matter at hand.

Let us consider key facts. I see that in June 1936
you put your mother in the Marengo home for the aged.

- Am I correct?
- Yes, your honour.

- And why did you do this?
- I didn't make enough money to provide for her.

Were you upset by the idea of putting your
mother in a home? Did you miss her at all?

We'd both become totally
independent of each other.

And anybody else.

So we were both able to adjust to this change.

I don't wish to pursue this point.

Has the prosecutor any particular
questions he wishes to ask?

I would indeed, your honour, with your kind permission,

I would like to ask the accused if he returned
to the cove with the intention of killing the Arab.

No!

In that case, why was the accused armed?
And why did he return to the very same spot?

I guess just by chance.

Your honour, that is all for the moment.

Counsel for the defence objects, your honour.

One moment, it's getting late. We'll get
around to your objections after lunch.

Court adjourned. We'll resume at two o'clock
at which time all the witnesses will be heard.

The court is adjourned. Remove the prisoner.

I would like to ask if on any occasion the mother of the
accused expressed displeasure with her son's conduct.

Yes, many times, but that's to be expected,
our guests always complain about their relatives.

Very well. I would also like to know whether she
resented the fact of having been sent to your home.

Yes, your honour.

Was there anything in particular you observed about
the accused on the day of his mother's funeral?

Yes, he seemed unusually calm and composed.

He refused to see his mother's body.

He didn't shed a single tear.

And he went off at the end of the ceremony
without paying his last respects at the graveside.

If there are any questions the prosecutor
wishes to ask at this time he may now proceed.

Oh no, that's all I need to hear.

Thank you sir, you may step down.

He told me he wouldn't see the body. What's
more he smoked, drank coffee, and went to sleep.

I didn't hear that clearly, could your honour
request the witness to repeat his testimony?

Please repeat what you said, sir.

Speak up, please.

I said that as he sat there in front of the coffin, the
prisoner drank a cup of coffee and smoked a cigarette.

Then he went to sleep.

Your honour, may I have the floor?

Would your honour ask this man if, during
the wake, he did not also smoke a cigarette?

Who is on trial here?

Does my colleague think by slandering a witness,
he can shake the evidence against the accused?

I accepted a cigarette only because he
offered it and I didn't know how to say no.

Does the accused have anything he would like to add?

No. Nothing.

Except to add he's spoken the truth.
I did give him a cigarette that night.

Well, it was me who offered him the coffee, your honour.

Mark those words, gentlemen of the jury.

Yes, the jury will see this, I know, and will
agree that a total stranger might offer him coffee,

but that he should have refused the offer out of
respect for the woman who brought him into the world.

Mr Perez, will you please tell the court how the
accused behaved on the day of the funeral.

You must understand, your honour,
that I was very upset that day,

and I honestly didn't notice him at all,
especially since I fainted, your honour.

How could I keep my eye on Mr Meursault?

Tell me, did you see him cry?

No.

Mark those words, gentlemen of the jury.

Can you swear to the court that he didn't weep at all?

No.

These whole proceedings are a mockery,
the truth is false and lies are true.

That will be all.

Don't worry, it's going to be all right
Everything's going well, count on me.

Now then, Mr Meursault often ate in your restaurant?

He was a customer and good friend.

Why was he a good friend?

Because he's truly a good man.

- Exactly what do you mean by that?
- He's a good man, there's no other definition.

Order, order.

Did it ever appear that the accused found it
difficult to communicate with the rest of you?

He was a blabbermouth, your honour.

Did the accused always settle his
accounts with you on time?

Always, without hesitation.

With the court's indulgence, I should be interested
in hearing your opinion of the crime he committed.

It seems to me it was an accident.

An unfortunate turn of events, that sums up my opinion.

That is all, you may step down.

- I'd like to say one more thing.
- Proceed, but please be brief.

He's not a killer.

The court will decide that, it's obvious that
our function here is to meditate and judge.

Thank you, that is all.

Please tell me how long you have known the accused.

- About three years.
- Please speak up.

About three years.

I'd been employed in the office
where Mr Meursault worked.

And what is your relationship with the prisoner?

Not to be indiscreet.

I'm his girlfriend.

We were going to get married.

I would like to ask Mademoiselle Cardona what
date her relationship with the accused began.

It was the first Saturday in
July last year, to be exact.

I see, I see.

The day after the funeral of Madame Meursault.

Order, order.

I don't wish to pry into such a delicate matter
with all respect for Mademoiselle's feelings,

but it's my duty to waive
considerations of delicacy.

Tell me then, exactly what did transpire
on that first Saturday in July last year?

Forgive me, Mademoiselle,
but I must have an answer.

Well...in July I usually spend
Saturdays at the beach.

I spotted him that afternoon on the pier.

I spent about an hour swimming
and sunbathing with him that day.

Afterwards we decided to go to the cinema.

Then back to his room, and he asked
me to spend the night with him.

Mademoiselle Cardonna has just told the court her
testimony to the magistrate during his investigation.

As a result, I consulted newspaper
listings on that day for the cinema,

but I would like to ask Madamoiselle Cardona
to specify what kind of film they saw that day.

It was a film with Fernandel.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the day after
his mother's demise, he sported on the beach,

began an illicit liaison with a young lady,
and watched a comedy at the movies.

It's horribly sick. It isn't
the way that it looks.

You've twisted everything I've said.

I know he didn't mean
it. It isn't his fault.

Please, Mademoiselle, this way.

He treated my poor dog with kindness.

He and his mother had nothing in common
any longer. They just happened like that.

Things happen like that.

Your honour, I'd just like to say he's innocent.

You were not summoned here to pass
judgement but to state facts and answer questions.

Would you tell the court exactly what
your relationship was with the victim.

To begin with, I'm the only
man who the victim hated.

That's because I'd fooled with his sister.

Did the victim have any reason
whatsoever to dislike the accused?

No, not at all.

Mr Meursault was with me at the
beach that day just by coincidence.

I'd like this gentlemen to now explain to
the court how it came about that this letter,

which evidently led to the crime,
was written by the accused.

Coincidence.

It would appear that the real
culprit in this case is coincidence.

And was it also coincidence that the accused
went along with you to the police station?

And was it again coincidence that he there
testified so obligingly on your behalf?

Mr Sintes, would you tell us how you
are currently employed here in Algiers?

I work in a factory.

It's common knowledge, your honour,
that he does in actuality work as a procurer,

and the accused was his
friend and accomplice.

This crime has its roots in corruption.

Your honour, the prosecutor is shamelessly -

We will discuss this when the
prosecutor has finished, let him proceed.

There really isn't much to add, your honour.

Was the accused a friend of yours?

Yes, he was a real pal.

And was this man your friend?

Yes.

Look at this callous criminal, a son who mourned
his mother's death by wanton forays and orgies,

and murdered in cold blood a poor lad
who had never done him the least harm

Is my client standing trial for not
adoring his mother or killing an Arab?

The way in which this man buried his one and only
mother is evidence that at heart he is a criminal.

And so ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you
are now acquainted with the series of events,

that led this man to commit murder with malice
aforethought, in dastardly awareness of his crime,

to reiterate, there is no evidence
of extenuating circumstances,

there is no evidence of impulsive
or irrational behaviour,

the man who sits before you in the
prisoner's dock is an educated man,

you have observed this by the way he
answered my questions, therefore I repeat,

it is impossible to conclude that he committed
the crime without knowing what he was doing.

I have looked into the depths of this man's
soul and I have seen a gaping void within,

to reveal the awful truth, he has
no soul at all, no human spark,

not even the merest speck of morality so
dear to mortal man does this monster possess.

No doubt we have no right to blame the accused
for lacking qualities he is morally incapable of

but here in this court we must stifle
the human inclination to be tolerant

and submit our will to the loftier demands
of that noble ideal which is justice.

Above all, that man who faces you in the
dock embodies all that is evil and inhuman,

and has to be removed from a
world that he can only corrupt.

This very same court will try here tomorrow
what seems to me to be the basest crime of all.

Homicide, gentlemen. And yet I must say this,

the horror that even this
crime inspires in my breast,

is but a pale reflection of the horror inspired by
the callousness of the man you see before you.

This man, who is morally guilty of his mother's death
is no more fit to dwell in this society of man

than the man who slew the father that begot him,
and so, without a single reservation in my heart,

I ask to impose the death
penalty upon this man.

It's often been my duty in the course of my career
in court to ask for the extreme penalty of death,

but duty plays no role in this affair, I feel I must
give way to my conscience, my heart, not duty.

My conscience therefore compels me
to seek the death penalty in this case.

Because my conscience is repelled by this criminal,
this monster devoid of any vestige of human feeling.

Have you anything you'd like to say?

Simply that...

simply that I didn't intend to kill the Arab.

The court will take note of your statement.

You see, I'm at a loss to fully
understand your defence.

So, before the court hears
your lawyer do the summing up,

would you please explain to me
the motive, the reason for your act.

Well, it was...

I think it was the sun.

Defence counsel may now take the floor.

Gentlemen of the jury.

I killed a man. That I confess.

- Why did he say that?
- Lawyers always talk that way.

I too have looked into the
depths of this man's soul for a time.

But I don't happen to hold the opinion
which my erudite colleague has put forth

and I have found his soul, in fact, to
be as crystal clear as a shining fountain.

This is the soul of a conscientious worker,
of an honest and fair young man,

a friend and companion to many, a moral
citizen, compassionate and helpful to others.

I was frankly amazed at the furore aroused
about the way he treated his mother.

Here sits a dutiful son, who took care of his
mother as long as he was able to afford it,

Being unequipped at last to adequately
provide for her, he sent her to a home,

hoping that there she would receive
all the care and comfort she required.

Surely, if truth be needed of the
excellence of these institutions,

we need only remember that they are
promoted and subsidised by the very state,

to which we owe our allegiance.

Therefore, by sending his mother
to a state-supported institution,

this man has on a grander scale tacitly
expressed his faith in our laws,

in our schools, in our hospitals, and in
justice. Yes, gentlemen, in justice itself.

Gentlemen of the jury, this man
has made a fatal mistake, I admit.

A human error. You must act
mercifully and not condemn him.

The circumstances in this case are
extenuating, I think you'll agree.

So let his conscience be his judge,

and his sole tormentor,

the almighty God.

Well done, you were splendid.

In the name of the people of France, this court
after due and impartial deliberation of this case,

finds the accused guilty of the
crime of which he has been charged,

and in accordance with the
prescriptions of the law,

condemns Arthur Messualt to death
by guillotine in full view of the public.

I've heard they always
come for you at dawn.

Now I spend my nights
waiting for that one daybreak.

I never like being caught off guard.

That's why I'll only sleep during the day.

Watching all through the night for
the first glimmer of light in the sky.

At the slightest sound at the door,

I press my ear to the wood, listening so
intently I can hear my own breathing.

Quick, hoarse breathing.

Like the panting of a dog.

Then my frenzy subsides.

And I know I'll live another 24 hours.

I refused to see the prison
chaplain three times.

I have nothing to say to him.

I don't feel like talking.

I've spent a lot of time thinking that it makes little
difference whether one dies at the age of 30 or 70.

For once you're dead it doesn't matter how,

or when you died.

Whenever I talk myself into believing that,

I'm at peace for a little while.

I really don't need to see the chaplain.

Don't be afraid.

You usually come...at the last moment.

This is just a friendly visit.

It has nothing to do with your appeal.
I have no information about that.

Here, sit beside me.

No, I'd rather not.

Why wouldn't you let me visit you?

I'm an atheist.

How can you be sure there's no God?

Why bother about it?

It seems to me it's not very important.

It's quite easy to say you feel sure.

When inside you're wracked by doubt.

Don't you believe so?

It's possible.

In any case, I might not be sure
about what interests me, really.

But I know I'm sure of what bores me.

And I'm sure I'm very
bored by what you've said.

Aren't you talking to me like
this because you feel desperate?

I'm not desperate.

I'm afraid.

That's human, isn't it?

God can calm your fears.

My friend, I'm not telling you this
because you're condemned to die.

We're all condemned to die.

But not by execution.

So that's no consolation to
me, you should realise that.

I know. But you have to die some
day whether it's now or later.

And then the same question will arise.

How will you face that terrible final hour?

In exactly the same manner
as I'm facing it this morning.

Have you no hope at all then?

Do you truly believe that
nothing remains after you die?

Yes.

How I pity you.

Life must be unbearable for
you if you feel like that.

Listen to me. I'm sure that your appeal will
be successful but that's not what concerns me.

You are bearing the burden of great
sins which you must atone for,

Man's justice is nothing at all,
only God's justice matters.

I was condemned by Man's justice.

Man is powerless to offer you redemption.

It means nothing to me.

They've condemned me for an act I've committed, so I'm
paying the price, you can't ask more from me than that.

You're wrong if you believe that.

You'll be asked to pay more.

A lot more than you imagined.

What's that?

You'll be compelled to see, to confront.

Confront what?

These walls are steeped in
human misery, I know that.

I sense the torment and sorrow within.

But deep inside, I know,

each man who waited here for death
saw emerging from that blackness,

our saviour's face.

You will see that face as well.

All these months I've stared
at the walls, and now,

there's nothing, nobody there, there's
nothing but the four walls.

Yes, I stared.

A long time ago.

I too searched for someone's face.

It was a face like the
sun, flaming with desire.

The face of a woman named Marie.

But I searched in vain.

It's all over now.

I've never seen anything
emerging from these filthy walls.

Won't you try to pray, then?

No.

Do you prize the things of this Earth so much?

No. I don't believe that.

I'm sure you've often wished
for a life after death.

Of course I have, who hasn't, but in the same
way I wish to get rich or travel all over the world.

Or to have a better shaped mouth.
It's no more important than that.

When you think of dying, tell me,
how do you envision what follows?

A life where I'll remember all of this.

I'm sick and tired sir, leave me.

Time is precious now.

I don't want to waste it on God.

Why do you call me sir? Call me father.

You're not my father.

You stand with the others.

No, my son, I stand with you.

But you remain unaware because
your heart is filled with hate.

I shall pray for you then.

I don't want you to pray for me!

You're so certain about everything, not one of
your certainties is worth a strand of a woman's hair,

you're not even sure if you're alive
because you act like a dead man,

and I, I look like I have nothing, but I'm
sure of what I am, sure of everything,

sure of my life, and now even my death, I
only know that what I'm sure is the truth for me.

My mother doesn't matter, nobody matters
really, and especially not your God,

or how I chose to exist, or thought I did, the others
will face this fate, as will you, don't you understand?

What difference does it make if a man's accused of
murder and executed for not weeping at his mother's body

or that Salamano who never loved anyone but his
mutt, or that Marie who wanted me to get married,

what difference does it make if Raymond is my
friend and Celeste is a better man than him?

And what does it matter if
Marie is kissing another man today?

Don't you see, you'll die just as I
die, but I'm sure of what I'll face.

Let him go.

Once he'd gone, I felt peace again.

I must have slept, because when I opened
my eyes the stars were shining on my face.

The sounds of the countryside floated
into my cell with the cool night air,

that smelled of earth, and salt,
and fanned my cheeks.

The marvellous peace of the sleeping summer
night washed over me like the tide.

Then, just at the edge of
daybreak, I heard a ship's whistle.

People were starting on a voyage in
a world that had ceased to exist for me.

For the first time in months I thought of Mama.

And now it seems to me I understood why
at her life's end she had taken a fiance.

Why she had pretended to make a new beginning.

There too, in that home where lives were
flickering out, there too came a mournful solace.

Being so close to death, Mama must have felt
a great relief, and ready to start life over again.

No-one had the right to weep for her.

And I too felt ready to start life over again.

It was as if my great rush of anger had
washed me clean, purged me of hope,

and staring up at that night sky, for the first time I
opened my heart to the sweet indifference of the universe,

and I felt that it was so much like myself, almost
like a brother, that I realised that I'd been happy,

and that I was happy still.

For all to be complete, for me to feel less alone,

I only wish there would be huge
crowds of onlookers at my execution,

and that they greet me with howls of contempt.

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