All language subtitles for Marie-Octobre.1959.eng

This film was restored by PATHÉ in 2016

- 'Evening, Victorine.
- At last!

Wipe your feet.

It's about time you got here.

Is that all you can say after 15 years?

You haven't changed.
It's like I saw you only yesterday.

- Really?
- You always seemed older.

Thanks a lot.

When I think of what happened here…

What a farce!

One dead man, gunfire,
plus all the rest.

It could have been worse.

You were lucky
you weren't arrested right off.

Your trafficking was no mystery.

- They're all here?
- Yes. And all on time.

- In there?
- You know the way.

Don't burn my carpet
with your cigarette butts.

What a memory!

I hope for your wife's sake
you're not married.

Married, divorced, re-married.
Surprised?

- No, Monsieur Maruval…
- Not "Maruval", Marinval.

Castille, my brother,
our comrade and leader,

we owe you this minute of silence.

15 years ago, at this very moment,
in this very house,

a few days before the Liberation,

you fell in a hail of bullets
from the German police.

We all witnessed this tragedy,

which is why we are gathered here
in my home.

In our home.
Our old headquarters.

I know, it took us a while.

The war and defeat
brought us together.

Peace dispersed us.

The Vaillance network, your network,

turned into a memory
of the regiment or school,

or a summer vacation.

We had already become
veterans of a sort.

But if we lost sight of one another,
the forgotten among the living,

we've remained loyal to your image.

Castille, ever present.

We have never stopped thinking of you.

And the liberty you gave your life for.

This liberty, now no more
than the shadow of our dead,

yet which remains an eternal hope.

And as it's your pleasure and ours,

I raise my glass
to the flower in our gun barrels,

our mascot,

who I'll refrain
from calling a heroine.

It's a word you loathed.

To Marie-Octobre,
who wanted this reunion,

without whom we would be
unworthy of ourselves.

Castille, happy and proud
to have known you.

To Castille.

- To Marie-Octobre.
- Your health.

Marinval, always on time.

Excuse me.
I was held up by a patrol!

I couldn't find a taxi-bike.
I walked.

I told Renaud-Picart
I had a general assembly.

He chairs the Butcher's Association.

Aren't you ashamed, greedy guts?

May I? When we're among family,
we kiss.

Of course.

For me?

A joke, for old time's sake.
A treat.

Remember rations?
"Days with, days without".

A leg of mutton!

And a bread card.
How sweet.

He kept it on ice for 15 years.

It was slaughtered yesterday.
Salt-meadow lamb.

Don't you recognize me?

Attorney Simoneau.
I saw your picture in the papers.

Lost your hair, gained a paunch.

- The guardian angel of murderers?
- At your service, butcher.

I'm with the SPCA.

- In self-defense.
- Idiot.

No…

- No!
- Yes.

- Le Gueven.
- Le Gueven, yes.

Poor fellow. With your prospects
and your conquests!

- When was this?
- 10 years ago. Amazed?

To think we called you
"Ladies' Delight"!

Bernardi!
I heard you gave up wrestling.

You heard right.

- Had dinner?
- I'm starving. What did you eat?

A delicious canard à l'orange.

Top-notch.
And fish like chicken.

And for starters…

I want it all.

Serve Monsieur Marinval.
We'll have coffee in here.

It's already served in the salon.

I'll eat something quickly
in the salon.

Everything on the menu, Victorine.

My poor carpets.

- How old is your son?
- 15.

Send him to see me.
I can't diagnose long-distance.

Medicine isn't remote-controlled.

I'm not conning you for a consultation.
Not my thing.

With health insurance today,
you can afford any illness.

Sure. Cancer is no longer a luxury.

- Why didn't you send out announcements?
- I had a simple wedding.

- And…
- And good news is only for friends.

You're not happy?

I'm a guy who missed out.
On the things that matter.

But I love other things.

My work, great literature,
a certain kind of music.

And I love coffee.

Who wants coffee?
Hands up.

- I asked for herb tea.
- Here.

It's for my liver.

As everyone can see. They say:
"Your poor liver".

No, not at all.

Help yourself to sugar.

- Coffee?
- Never at night.

Thibaud can't believe
you're the Marie-Octobre fashion house.

- Really?
- I didn't make the connection.

For a Parisian doctor…

I thought you'd have married
an explorer,

like Paul-Emile Victor,
always far away.

I never married.

Why not?

Other ideas.

Now about this fashion house…

- It's a sizable business?
- Sizable.

Thanks to this gentleman.
My backer.

A good investment for once.
With no ulterior motive.

What a boor! Listen to him!

I didn't mean:
"with no ulterior motive",

however…
with no ulterior motive!

Marie has a heart of gold,
but flawless.

And inaccessible.

Love was good before the war.

How do you know?
You were 14.

What I didn't know I sensed.

Simoneau…

Just between us,

the guy you defended yesterday?
- Who I got acquitted?

He was guilty.

- He fired the lethal shot.
- The prosecution didn't prove it.

But you can't believe he was innocent.

My plea doesn't involve my emotions.

I'd have voted him guilty.
He who kills must be killed.

A simplistic way of thinking.

You practice a funny profession.

What about you?

My clients may thank me.
Yours always curse you.

- You're a terror.
- I flatter myself.

Feared but respected.

Shirkers to the wall.
I'm proud of my profession.

- Which is?
- Civil servant.

I'll say!
Tell the gentlemen what you do.

Yes, go on.

- Tell them if you dare.
- Let me speak.

- We'll forgive you in advance.
- Tax inspector.

The bastard!

Look, a TV set.

Wrestling tonight.
A terrific match.

Like wrestling?

I love it.
Completely hooked.

I thought you were still a pro?

Not after I nearly broke my back.

Make way for tomorrow.

Should I call you "Father"?

Are you kidding? Call me Yves.

You haven't lost your touch.

I even learned to play the sax.

That kind of noise doesn't appeal to me.

I like the Romantics. Berlioz,
Wagner. Especially Wagner.

"Tristan", "Tannhauser",
"The Ride of the Valkyries"!

… would scientists foresee
that these tentacles would deliver

a refrigerator,
every housewife's dream?

Cut the sound.
Fridges aren't exactly Westerns!

It's a cultural program.
What's the time?

The wrestling is later.

Don't you have a TV?

My home movie is my wife.

Thanks, Victorine.

Married?

No. Shacked up together.
You know Linda Bell?

The singer?

If you come on up to my penthouse

You'll get a good peek at my view

I know her records.

I have both sides at home:
in flesh and blood.

Talk about a long-player.

And apart from that?

I run a night club, the "Sexy Pigalle".

No kidding?

How very interesting.

A top-notch joint.
Striptease, the real thing.

- I bet you don't get bored?
- No, never at work.

- I'd like to visit backstage.
- Come around one night.

I took over the business in '45.
Cost me two grand.

But only the very best artists.

"Striptease" may sound like a cushy gig.

- But not everyone can strip.
- That's for sure!

Swell, isn't it? It gets to you.

It's not like…

I say…

Remember the song
we sang in '42 — '43?

No. It was a bit cheesy. Charming.

Rather like…

The song from Rue Bonaparte,
you used to sing it.

That's it.

With your mandolin, remember?

Don't move. Keep playing.

- Thanks.
- My clinic was doing well.

I was making a name for myself.

Then I lost my wife.

No children.
I wanted to chuck it all in.

But I care about my patients.

If I lost my wife I'd lose everything.

My son and I are buddies.
He helps me in the forge.

My daughter is a worry.
She's 14, and in love with me.

A pretty little scamp.
Men shouldn't have daughters.

Let's go?

You lead, then I'll take over.

You're not backing out?

Thought it through?
You won't regret it?

Who do you think I am?
You know me.

Marie, you owe me this dance.
You lost our game!

If it's a debt…

- It's the tune…
- From Rue Bonaparte.

That little shop we used
as a letter box.

- What an era!
- Marvelous.

- I saw you every day.
- Come now…

May I? Change partners.
I have something to say too.

- The Legion of Honor?
- It impresses my clients.

And doubles my fees!

I'm single too.

- Really?
- Yes.

Like you.

- So?
- Just mentioning it.

What's wrong?

Is there a problem?

You have an idea in your head.

Yes, I do…

A terrific wrestling match!

In 2 rounds and maybe a decider.

The European
all-categories championship.

Between the Delaporte-Villar team…

Yes, Delaporte with Villar's help

will confront the dreaded Zick 400

and King Kong Taverne.

The Battle of the Giants.

The referee may not come out unscathed.

- We can't hear.
- I'll give you something to hear.

Later, Victorine. Not now.

What's going on?

"On the third stroke…"

Shut up.

Haven't you wondered why,

after 15 years,

Marie-Octobre needed
to see you all again?

- Aren't you curious?
- She missed us?

I'll tell you why.

15 years ago,
the Gestapo raided this house.

We all escaped miraculously.

All except Castille.

Castille was shot dead
by a German police officer,

right where I'm standing.

Our network was broken up.

Then there was the Liberation.

We lost touch with each other.

We collided occasionally.
"Hello, how are you?"

Indifferent.

Don't exaggerate.

I often wondered
how the Gestapo were tipped off.

How they knew the exact time
and place of our meeting.

For 15 years this question
remained unanswered.

But there's no God for traitors.

What are you getting at?

Found out something?

Someone betrayed our network.

- That's no surprise.
- One of its members.

One of us.

What?

- One of us?
- Is this a joke?

It's outrageous!

What we're forced to hear!
Give me TV any day.

I'll say it again:

our network was betrayed
to the Gestapo by one of us.

- Aren't you a bit…
- It's unthinkable.

A traitor?
That would hurt.

Give us a name?
Who was it?

You.

You.

You.

You.

Sure. Everyone and no one.

No protests?
One Judas more or less…

Marie-Octobre would never
accuse anyone lightly.

2 weeks ago I presented
my winter collection.

During the show
a man stared at me so hard

that I went up to him
to ask if I looked funny.

Sounds like you.

"The name Marie-Octobre",
he replied.

"The name of your shop…"

"Well?"

"Wasn't it a code name
during the Occupation?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because the Marie-Octobre network
complicated my life."

He was a German buyer,

called Wilfried Müller.

An ex-intelligence officer
who worked closely with the Gestapo.

You mix in fancy circles
in the fashion world.

And so?

So he said something extraordinary:

"We'd have left you alone
if you hadn't been betrayed.

"By one of your people."
He was categorical.

"One of your people."

He added, and he seemed sincere:

"A pity, as you didn't deserve it.

"I admired your courage."

That's all.

A name? Didn't he say a name?

He couldn't remember.

What is this nonsense?

He waited 15 years to…
No. I don't buy it.

Maybe we were victims
of an indiscretion,

an anonymous allegation,
an act of revenge.

But you, him or me…
No, my dear. No.

We're decent fellows.
And in all honesty…

We're not in court yet.

If you say so.

Let's say a bastard
went looking for your buyer

to sell him the network.

He could have passed himself off
as Marinval or me.

We're just talking, right?

There's a statute of limitations.

I'll spill the beans.

I squealed on the network.

Yes. In a moment of madness.

There. Happy now?

Let's get serious
and catch up with these gents.

Delaporte ducks, Isquako attacks.
How long can he last?

It's savage.
The referee steps in courageously.

Delaporte sends him packing.

So much for the sacred rules…

Hey!

I don't agree.

We've said too much or not enough.

We're paying each other compliments:

"You're a swell guy."
"You're even better."

- Well?
- Let's prove how swell we are.

Open the trunks and take an inventory.

Yes.

If we all separate now,

I think our goodbyes would ring false.

Doubt rears its ugly head.

Doubt is like cancer, isn't it, Doctor?

You're all determined
to play this stupid game.

It's fun.

The traitor will pay a forfeit.
Nice!

We're in for a great evening together!

You take it lightly.

- I have the right to my opinion.
- You have every right.

Including the right
to make untimely jokes.

He who laughs last…

What are you insinuating?

Nothing.

You don't imagine…

I imagine nothing.

I dislike melodrama.
It's not in my nature.

You're agonizing over something
from rutabaga days.

I stamp out the past.

But I'm at your service.

Like your taxmen.
Want to check my books?

Marinval, always in order.
Yes, sir.

- I'm delighted.
- I'm not.

I had to pay 25% extra tax,

plus fines,

for a slip-up in my accounts department.

I thought you were in order.

Yes, with my conscience.
My conscience is clear.

- It's deaf and dumb.
- That's not the issue.

Let's talk turkey.

Very funny.
Such wit in the tax office!

So we're the jury and the accused.

Very well. And then what?

When we find the culprit
what do we do with him?

True.
What if it's me?

I confess. I grab my hat.
"So long, everyone."

Life goes on.

What did we do with traitors in '42?

We shot them.

We're not in '42 now.

Justice picks her moment.

Or lets it slip by.
There's no one left.

No, the culprit is left.

And he's here.

He had dinner with us.
He has to be punished.

15 years later, his innocence regained.
He's a new man,

who may not understand
what happened to him back then.

Pleading for yourself?

I'm not pleading.

I'm praying. For everyone.

Le Gueven is right.

We can't execute a man in cold blood,
one of us.

I don't have the stomach for that.

I'm no good at jobs like that.

A reprieved man on death row wrote:

"To kill with a clear conscience,
you need faith.

"Otherwise you kill from fear
or revenge. That's ugly."

Faith has certainly abandoned me
tonight.

Before a court, after 15 years

the sentence may be pronounced,
perhaps,

but is rarely applied.

You've all changed a hell of a lot.

A grass is a grass.
No pity for those rats!

Bravo. A man at last.

I vote for death.

- You'll be the executioner?
- The executioner?

You judge and condemn,
so you execute.

I judge and condemn
if the accused confesses.

We'll look into it.
Study the case.

So we wipe the slate clean?

The network broken up,
Castille murdered…

All written off.

But we'll never be able
to face each other, my friends.

No longer friends.

Suspects.

And when you condemned Simon
in '43 and left me the dirty work?

If you spare the traitor
who betrayed us,

you'll make Simon a victim.

And me a filthy bastard!

All Pontius Pilates!

If you wash your hands
it's because they're dirty.

We can't ignore this.
It's impossible.

We aren't 13,
but there's a Judas among us.

- If he's not you, he's your brother.
- Always a joker.

- I can't see what to do.
- I can.

I have a solution.

Suicide.
Do you all agree?

Agree. If I say no,
you'll think I'm guilty.

I agree too.

What's the risk?
A traitor won't give himself up.

One never knows.

All right.

I protest.

I don't accept
this hypocritical way out.

No one has the right to judge.

- If you want something done well…
- Please, listen!

- Leave to God…
- We know that tune.

Your God can't even save an innocent.

Did he protest
when that fellow was crucified?

- You're out of line.
- If the Pope could hear you!

Idiot.

What if the culprit refuses suicide?

Count on me.
I haven't lost my touch.

You'll come up against me.

Very well.

Have you thought
of the consequences?

How will you explain it to the police?

How will you justify a corpse
in your home?

The traitor will have signed
a confession and a suicide note.

- The corpse will grant discharge.
- Which corpse?

We talk as if we're all innocent.

But we are innocent.
All of us.

Except one man.

Or woman. Excuse me.

In short,

unequivocally:

one of us won't leave here alive.

Is that it?

Dr. Thibaud is wanted on the phone.

Dr. Thibaud.

Shall we sit down?

We're pacing about.

Victorine, some liqueurs.

No, Marinval. That's enough.

My last wishes: I don't want
to die before I know who wins.

See that lock? Sensational!

Just watch, out of curiosity.

You're totally oblivious.
Come over here.

My patients are getting jittery.
I must get back to the clinic.

Maybe.

Whisky, brandy, liqueur?

- The last drink.
- The last cigarette?

Thanks.

So how shall we go about it?

You're the lawyer…

I'm not qualified.
This is highly illegal.

Like in '43.

Let's examine those who were
in contact with the Germans.

- Intelligence with the enemy.
- Not necessarily.

During the Occupation, all the French
had dealings with them.

I pleaded in German war councils.

And you?

Me?

During the Occupation,
you trafficked with the Boche?

That's news!

Didn't you deal on the black market?

I handled food supplies.

- And the goods?
- What goods?

Where did you find the goods?
To bribe those gentlemen?

This is outrageous!

Hear that?

Who fed you all?
Who sent food parcels to Fresnes Prison?

No one complained
about the taste of my butter.

We won't build an Arch of Triumph
to you in margarine:

Honor, country and fat content!

I mixed with them to con them.

- You obeyed them.
- Obeyed?

- Indeed! A civil servant!
- I only obeyed my chiefs.

And that meeting you never attended?

We were buddies,
I couldn't imagine what he was planning.

Remember that day?
February or March, '42.

February '42?

We were to meet
at the Metro Saint-Denis.

It's possible.

You didn't show up.
Why not?

- How should I know?
- Weren't you arrested?

Oh yes, that time!

The Germans raided my building.
Looking for parachutists.

- And they arrested you?
- And all the other tenants.

- They didn't hold you?
- 48 hours. ID check.

And they released you?

- Just like that?
- Yes. Just like that.

And Costa, Daumont and Verger?

They were arrested and never seen again.

- So?
- That's all.

Come now. We're straying.

And you? You printed newspapers
for the Germans?

The printers where I worked did.

That's how I could forge ID cards.

Leaflets and passports too.
Remember?

- You brought me your drawings.
- Yes.

The first time I saw him
he was talking fluent German

to a propaganda officer.
- My only foreign language.

When you contacted me for the network,

I thought you were a spy.

Then I came aboard…

Maybe for you more than the cause.

All this talk is getting us nowhere.

Let's try to remember that meeting
when the Gestapo burst in on us.

I remember one thing:
I broke the 100 yards track record.

That dinner gave me indigestion.

- Something wrong with my dinner?
- A bit heavy.

You stuffed yourself.
Walking tires you out.

- What did I cook?
- A coq au vin.

You still haven't digested it.

If you have a gut like a sewer,
as you do…

- Do you still like coq au vin?
- I do.

Your taste in food hasn't changed.

But everything else…
My God, who'd have thought it?

The way you eyed
the legs of girls on mopeds.

You were always up for it.

But apart from the outfit,
you're still a handsome fellow.

- Not a wrinkle.
- Rubbish.

If you run into one
of your numerous old girlfriends,

what do you tell her?

Get off our backs, dear Victorine.

Come now, don't talk to me like that.

They'll think I brought you up badly.

That night we had all
gathered here with Castille.

No. Not all of us.

There were absentees.

- Are you sure?
- Dead sure.

It's easy to blame the absent.
If we want a suspect…

If I'd squealed on the network
I would never have shown up

to risk getting caught in a shootout.

But I was here.

So was I.

So was I.

- Me too.
- I wasn't.

- True. Where were you?
- Relax. I have an alibi.

Castille had me deliver funds
to Saint-Malo 4 days earlier.

It took you 4 days to come back?

Yes.

I was delayed
by the air raids in Rouen.

I don't remember any bombing there.

The people of Rouen do.
Ask them.

But Blanchet…

I don't think you were here either?

You're right. I wasn't.

- Why didn't you say so?
- Aren't I now?

I had a raging fever that day, 102.

The old lady kicked up a rumpus
so I stayed home.

Why didn't you let us know?

I telephoned.

- You didn't have a phone.
- From the local café.

You went out with a fever?

Not me, the old lady.
Same thing.

Who answered the call?

How should I know?
Castille probably.

He's dead.
He can't refute it.

Back off, will you?

I said the old lady telephoned
and she did.

And it was 15 years ago…
Be reasonable.

When you're involved in such dramatic
events, you can't forget.

That's true.

I haven't forgotten your row
with Castille just before he died.

I always wondered what it was about.

A row with Castille?

I often quarreled with Castille.

We didn't have the same view
of the network's actions.

Castille was a remarkable man,

but he was extremely ruthless.

Dogmatic and intransigent.

On the contrary,
he was highly sensitive.

I admit I was turbulent and capricious,

hot-headed, so there was friction,
nothing serious.

Nothing serious?

You'd have come to blows
if I hadn't been there.

An uppercut is an argument
for a philosopher.

How about Christian charity?

What was the fight about?

Weren't you both rivals?

Think about it.

I don't see it.

Forgive me, but…

Don't you think
you had something to do with it?

Le Gueven?

I can truthfully say
that what I felt for Marie-Octobre

was brotherly love.

You've either forgotten
what you were like,

or you have a funny idea
about brotherly love.

I haven't forgotten the time
we were alone together at your place.

And you were so persuasive
that evening

that who knows how it would have ended

if we hadn't been interrupted
by a siren.

Women paved your way to God!

Come on, Le Gueven,

you and Castille wouldn't have fought
without good reason.

Tell us everything,
or we'll suspect everything.

Go on. After all we've been through,
what are you afraid of?

I'm not thinking of myself,
but of you.

Aren't you unhappy enough?

We're unhappy when we're vile
with no excuse.

No, I can't tell you.

Castille accused you
of stealing 3 million.

Is it true?

It's true.

- No kidding?
- 3 million, in those days…

Our network had received funds
from London

for different sectors
of our organization.

That's why I went to Saint-Malo.

But the 3 million Castille handled
had vanished.

What reason did he have
to accuse you?

I led a hectic existence
outside our network,

my personal life was stormy.
And costly.

- Spendthrift!
- I was deeply in debt.

But that didn't mean…

When Castille told me his suspicions…

As I was pugnacious
and out of control…

Luckily you broke it up.

That explains it.

What?

The vocation, the cassock.
Satan tempts, God saves.

- He didn't accuse without proof.
- It wasn't me. Believe me?

- I doubt everything.
- You're wrong.

Le Gueven was unjustly accused.
Castille told me the next day.

And we never knew who the thief was?

We almost did. By a few minutes.

Castille planned to unmask him
at our last meeting.

But the Gestapo got there first.

Our last meeting?

I can still hear Castille say,
walking in this door:

"The thief is here."

So one of us lucked out.

- Saved by the Gestapo.
- Exactly.

It's all irrelevant.
Past history…

You don't care, you're alive.

I'm alive.
But it's none of my doing.

It's not my fault
if they missed me three times!

I'm alive!

And what if I like it?
If I enjoy life?

I can't enjoy life
if Castille isn't avenged.

I don't know
what Castille meant for you,

but I've never known a man like him.

We were in the Corps Francs in '40.
Not a pretty sight.

Thanks to him, I stuck it out.
And came through alive.

I owe him everything.
Everything!

Before I met him I was nothing.
A hustler, a crook.

He made a man of me.
I'm not ashamed now.

I don't know if he can hear me,

but I'll say it anyway:
"You'll be avenged tonight, sir.

"I salute you."

I liked Castille too.

With him, you wanted to be straight.

You didn't want to impress him,
you wanted his respect.

So we have to see this through,
to keep faith with him.

The traitor didn't only betray Castille,

he also betrayed all those
whom we never saw again,

who never returned.
- Wait a minute.

Maybe the robbery and the betrayal
are connected.

It's possible.

3 million must have come in handy.
He stashed the money, then…

Say…

Apparently you have a large practice.

That costs a lot.

You were broke. You worked in a garage.

Yes. At night. To pay for my studies.

Yes. I tried in vain
to give you some money.

I didn't want to be in anyone's debt.

And in '46, you had your practice.

Yes. It cost more than 3 million.

Came into a fortune?

It was Dr. Carelli's practice.
I married his daughter.

When he retired,
he passed it on to me.

You could question your old comrades
with more courtesy.

He thinks
he's in the red light district!

An ex-wrestler.

Stick to your chops, butcher.

Bravo!
That's class for you!

A striptease boss talking about meat:
that's a laugh!

By the way,

your temple to beauty,
did you inherit it from your grandma?

Or buy it with your winnings
in the ring?

Bernardi!

I'm sorry. I'm behaving like a brute.

Marinval…

I want to ask you all to do something.

To step back into the past

and say if you ever suspected
anyone's loyalty.

- Simoneau?
- Never.

Betrayal from outside, yes.
Not within.

Blanchet?

I had the odd suspicion.
But never any proof.

It's so far away.

Well, I did.

I suspected someone and I still do.

You suspected him too.

- His name is on the tip of my tongue.
- Who?

No. Too easy.

- Have the courage of your convictions.
- They're secret.

- Don't you want to answer?
- Sure.

In my own way.

Vandamme has voted. Now you.

Buck up!
We'll see if our opinions coincide.

It's rather a strange way to…

I don't want anyone to say…

Who knows?
The truth may rise from this urn.

You believe in Santa Claus?

Le Gueven.

Oh, well…

- You refuse to vote?
- Exactly.

It will lead to hatred and scorn.
I won't be involved.

- I don't hate anyone.
- Hatred.

Here comes the 4th, King Kong,

he's ropewalked poor Villar…

Simoneau.
I vote Simoneau.

It'll teach him to get murderers off.

Well?

No one wants to dirty their hands?

"Simoneau".

Abstention.

So I'm a traitor.

Is that what you think?
I'm a traitor?

The vote was confidential.

Right.
One abstention.

I'll never know who voted.
How convenient for you.

I didn't vote.

- Indeed?
- I had no choice.

- Whatever my conviction…
- Your conviction!

Abstention but accusation.
Let the Good Lord work it out.

You think I'm a bastard too?

- I can't be sure…
- When in doubt, vote yes.

Like Thibaud.

A misdiagnosis is serious.

I'm not the only one.

You had this idea right from the start.

And you kept quiet about it.

I've seen you more courageous.

It was without consultation.
Unanimous.

Without premeditation. Fate.
A happy coincidence.

- To suspect me you need proof.
- Or presumptions, at least.

- What presumptions?
- You know where you come from.

- Where I come from?
- Yes, in '34.

In '34, I was a fascist.
That make you happy?

- You fought in Spain…
- With Franco.

You were on the France-Germany
Committee.

With de Brinon.

You treated yourself.

After the Armistice,
you created at the Sorbonne…

The France-Germany
University Association.

Admit
that's quite a heavy political record.

In '42, when Germany violated
the Armistice agreements,

I broke off with all those people.

And my arrest by the Gestapo?

Fresnes, then my transfer to Drancy.
That counts too.

You know how I got out of Drancy.

I kept nothing back from Castille.

He brought me into the network.
He covered me.

Are you doubting his vigilance?

If Castille trusted him…

You suspect me.
But I have questions for you, too.

We spoke of a theft of 3 million.

You agreed
there's a connection between them.

It's a hypothesis.

Before the meeting, Castille told you
Le Gueven was above suspicion?

He knew who the thief was.
He was going to unmask him.

He told you the thief was here.

I wasn't here. I was in Rouen.

So the thief was one of you.

I wasn't here either.
Absent on account of illness.

- He didn't reveal his name?
- He didn't have time.

The Germans arrived 10 minutes
after the meeting began.

But during those 10 minutes…

Let's try to reconstitute that evening.

We were all around this table.

Castille was there.

I can see him now.

I was here.

- And I was here.
- So, during these 10 minutes?

To begin with,

I read a note from London
about sabotaging a troop transport.

We discussed it.

Castille needed a map,
which he'd left in his car.

He told me to get it. I went out.

That's when it began.

At the front gate,

I saw cars with headlights off,
Germans with machine-guns.

So I ran back here
and gave the alert.

Castille ordered us to run for it.

I went into the kitchen
to warn Victorine.

Le Gueven
and I escaped through that door.

I followed.
We met 800 yards from here.

Yes, in the bushes.

And you?

Her?
She didn't want to leave Castille.

A farce!

Once outside, he remembered some
vital papers in the writing desk.

- The London correspondence.
- He and I came back

and all hell broke loose.

Castille took the files.

I gave him a hand.

The Germans burst in.

Castille fired two shots,

but they fired back
and Castille fell dead.

That's it.

5 minutes.

Had I been armed, I'd be dead too.

And then?

They carried out a search
and took me away.

Crossing the Suresnes bridge,
the car slowed down for a truck.

I grabbed the chance to jump out
and dive into the Seine.

You don't stop to wonder
if the water is too cold.

Bullets whistled around me.
I took a bullet in the shoulder.

They must've thought I went under.

By the time he got to my place,
he was a pretty sight:

soaked, blood-stained.

And your welcome…
What a chewing out!

I'd just got back. I was packing.

I removed the bullet,

then we went to lie low
in the Limousin.

At what moment was Castille killed?

Just after the Germans arrived.

How long after, roughly?

I don't know. 5 or 6 seconds.

2 bullets,
a burst of machine-gun fire…

You sure of that?

It almost cost me my life to know it.

It doesn't hang together.

Why not?

I'm sorry to say this,
but it doesn't hang together.

Something doesn't play right
in your story.

Like what?

Between the moment
the Germans entered this room

and left with you as their prisoner,
there was no gunfire.

No gunfire?

No pistol shots, no machine-gun fire.

How would you know?
You weren't here.

I was here.

What?

You weren't here. You were sick.

- Your wife called.
- From the bar.

That's all true.

I was feeling better late afternoon.

So when the old lady
went out shopping…

That's news. Nobody saw you.

Obviously.

The Gestapo arrived at the same time.
Right on my heels.

I hid in the rhododendrons

and witnessed the entire operation.

I was scared stiff.

Why didn't you say so
when we asked you?

I was afraid I'd be suspected.

Arriving as a scout
with the Gestapo… Looks bad.

Why do you need to speak now?

There are things
you can't keep to yourself.

Castille may be dead,
but I can't abandon him.

You don't believe me?

How can we?

First you swear you weren't here.
And now…

My word isn't enough?

Which one? The first or the second?

We need proof.

Proof…

That night, you didn't come
on the bike you always used.

- I did.
- No.

You came on a tandem.
I saw it by the front door.

That's true.

My bike was bust,
I borrowed my brother-in-law's tandem.

There.

That doesn't tell us how Castille
died. Get your stories straight.

I don't know what game
Blanchet is playing.

But I stand by what I said.

Castille fired,
the Germans fired back.

And Castille fell.

In a burst of machine-gun fire?

Exactly.

There were shots
before the Germans burst in.

They fired at you
as you were fleeing.

Then they invaded this room,
and there was total silence.

Total.

A burst of machine-gun fire
does a lot of damage.

Didn't you see any bullet holes?

None.

It must have been
a drawing room machine-gun.

A pop gun.

Say something.

I don't know any more.

It's all so far away.

Try to remember.

Let's see…

I was here.

Castille…

Let's see.

You have a nightmare,
you wake up and remember nothing.

It's the same thing.

So, Castille…

The writing desk…

I got it.

That's it. I see the scene now.

You were right.
There was no machine-gun fire.

Men armed with machine-guns entered,

but they never fired.

I got mixed up.

There were two plain-clothes cops,
with pistols.

They came in through that door.

One of them shot Castille
in the back.

There.

Strange, this idea of machine-guns.

You construct truths like that,
and then…

- It was that door.
- No, monsieur. Let me stop you.

No one came through that door.

- How do you know?
- I was behind it.

- Behind it?
- Exactly. Behind the door.

When the Germans were spotted,
Monsieur came to get me.

You refused.

My rheumatism. They wanted me
to hide in the water tank.

A woman of my age!

You left me here
with my cat on my lap.

Poor thing. I kept stroking it.

And I heard gunfire on the grounds.

On the grounds?

I wanted to see what was going on.

When I reached the door,
I heard a commotion.

What a din…

I stayed put with my cat purring.

Suddenly I felt scared.
I ran to join you in the tank.

And in this room? No shots?

No. All I heard were stamping feet.

And shouting: "Kommen Sie!",
"Schnell!" Quite a zoo!

What do you say to that?

I don't know.

All I know is
Castille was killed before my eyes.

At that moment
I didn't take any notes.

The killers came through a door…

He's right. Let's get back
to Castille's death.

Let's not switch the order of things.

First, the thief.

- True, we forgot about him.
- Once we find him…

And he's not far.

In '44, you didn't have a cent.

- I earned my living.
- Poorly.

I had regular work.

You tried to hit on me
once or twice, unsuccessfully.

Like getting blood out of a stone.

It's not a reproach
but I often lent you money.

- Small sums…
- We're getting there.

- Tell me…
- Don't. I'm used to this.

Fiscal inquisition.

When did you buy your printers?

In '46.

- It's a large printers?
- Yes.

- How much did you pay for it?
- None of your business.

You don't have any partners?

- You paid in cash?
- None of your business.

It is. You don't become
an owner overnight.

And don't tell me you won the lottery.

- What money did you buy it with?
- I don't have to answer to you.

I have nothing to be ashamed of.

- All the more reason to answer.
- What the…

So? Where did the money come from?

- A friend lent it to me.
- A friend? Money?

Yes. Some friends do lend
their friends money.

- Which friend?
- Nobody you know.

- You signed a contract?
- Not between friends.

And can we speak to this model friend?

- Where does he live?
- In the cemetery. He's dead.

Before being paid back!
You take us for idiots?

I'm an honest man.

An honest man!

In our place, Rougier,

you wouldn't settle
for the answers you've given us.

In '43, you were in dire straits.

In '46, you buy a printers
worth millions, and for the money…

you evoke the ghost
of an anonymous creditor.

Why suspect me more than…

Vandamme or Bernardi?

Is it our fault if you give us
two versions of Castille's death?

And if they contradict
the testimonies of Blanchet

and Victorine?

But my word is as good as theirs!

Blanchet backed down too.
You don't suspect him.

Yet he arrived
seconds before the Gestapo.

- Follow the guide!
- What?

Bastard!

Let's not get worked up.

Now, Blanchet…

You said there was no gunfire

between the moment
the Germans came in here

and the moment
they left with Rougier.

Yes.

- You maintain that.
- Formally.

My friends, it's simple enough.

If Castille wasn't killed
after the Germans arrived,

he was killed before.

A few seconds before.

During the brief moment
he was alone with someone.

- Meaning what?
- Admit it.

Admit that you guessed.

- You stole the money.
- Me?

You'd just been exposed.

- Castille was going to unmask you.
- You're mad.

- But miraculously, the Gestapo arrived.
- A miracle, the Gestapo?

Precisely! The crime would be
blamed on those gentlemen…

You heard him!
He called me a murderer.

There's no proof.
No witnesses.

Thibaud…

You saw me arrive
with a bullet in my shoulder.

Tell them the state I was in
when I announced Castille's death.

Did I look like a murderer?

Did I?

Le Gueven, say something!

I gave the alert
the night of the meeting.

It was thanks to me
that you could escape.

And if you're all alive today…

Since I can't do this any other way.

Marie-Octobre, speak.

Tell them they're wrong.

- How do you expect me…
- Tell them the truth.

What truth?

Look, be brave. Tell them.

Tell them

the kind of man Castille was.

I don't understand.

Marie-Octobre…

I'm defending my honor,
my life even…

Remember.

Remember when you'd bring
your sketches to the printers.

Every Tuesday. Remember?

Yes. And?

We were pals from the start, right?

That's true.

I was living alone.
I was pretty withdrawn.

You found the way…

We'd chat at the press.
We swapped stories.

One day I invited you to lunch.

A very modest lunch.

I got used to thinking about you.

Waiting for Tuesday.

The Marie-Octobre habit.

You called me
"little gofer".

"The little gofer"…

Well? Go on.

You told me you were quitting.

You no longer wanted
to work on your magazine.

- And for good reason!
- We wouldn't meet again.

There'd be no more Tuesdays for me.

So I asked you to marry me.

You knew it wasn't possible.

The lack of money?
But that wasn't the real reason.

The real reason was…

you loved someone else?

Tell them.

Very well.

Marie-Octobre loved Castille.

No way. Marie-Octobre?

I understood immediately.

As soon as she asked me
to join the network.

That's news.

Women are extraordinary.
Castille?

That's right.

I loved Castille.

It was love at first sight.

I was his mistress.

And I never replaced him.

I'd never have guessed it.

Life! I'll never get used to it.

- Castille could keep a secret.
- That has nothing to with this.

It does.

You, now.

You can't remain silent.

What are you getting at?
What can I say?

Tell them who Castille was.

An outstanding individual.

An incomparable leader.
We know that.

The epitome of courage and selflessness.

But he was something else too.

He had his flaws, like all men.

In his private life,
he was a self-centered brute.

- Cynical, capricious.
- You're lying!

He's lying. Don't listen to him.

How can you talk about him like that?

What's it to us?
We're not judging his private life.

I'm not lying. I'm telling the truth.

I'm defending my neck!

Women didn't exist for him.
He despised them.

How do you know?
He never confided in you.

He didn't but you did.

You came to me for comfort
when you were unhappy.

How many times did I see you cry?

He humiliated you constantly.

Humiliated?

We quarreled occasionally,
of course, but…

On the morning of the meeting
that ended so badly,

didn't you come to my place?

You were in a state.

You talked about suicide.

You'd learnt he was having an affair.

He wanted to marry someone else.

You wanted to have one last…

talk with him.
- I had it. That afternoon.

He said he was sorry.
He reassured me.

- He promised me…
- He promised you nothing.

You have to tell us
exactly what happened

after the alert,

when Castille gave the order to run.

I refused to run.

I didn't want to leave him.

And you remained alone with him?

Yes, I lied earlier.
I wanted to avoid these stories.

The truth is that I left after you all.

You were left alone with Castille.

He was putting papers in his suitcase.

In the hallway I remembered
documents in the writing desk.

I came back into this room.

- And then…
- That's not true.

That's not what happened.

And then…

Castille was dead.

There was a pistol next to her.
On the little table.

Forgive me, Marie-Octobre.

Silence is golden?

Orangeade for the thirsty

and whisky for the drunks.

Look me in the eyes.

- You maintain what you just said?
- I was telling the truth.

Word of honor?

- Can you swear to it?
- I swear.

So I denounced the network?

Me? I called you all here.
I reunited you.

It's absurd!

Why would I have taken that initiative?

A 15 year-old story no one remembered.

Out of thoughtlessness? Defiance?

Yes, apparently.

The murderer who conducts the case…

Excuse me, but didn't you
just make a mistake?

A mistake?

Was this reunion really your idea?

You admitted as much earlier.

Yes… I meant…

But wasn't it my idea?

When that German buyer, Wilfried Müller,
recognized you, I was there.

Yes, you arrived right then.

I saw you turn white,
I thought you were about to faint.

You told him to repeat his accusation.
And we were left alone.

I said to you:

"We owe it to Castille's memory
to shed light on this betrayal."

What did you reply?

I didn't think we could find
all the network members.

I thought it was too late.

My secretary had no trouble
getting all our addresses.

Didn't I insist on this reunion?

Yes. Afterwards.

And for the last 15 years,
I've seen you every day.

I thought I knew you
without always understanding you.

But this great passion for Castille,
I knew nothing about.

This passion that explains so much.

If we must stir these ashes,
let's see it through.

I'm going to ask you one question.
Just one.

I know your answer will be the truth.

Marie,

did you kill Castille
because he was going to leave you?

I loved Castille more than my life.

And Castille loved me.
He wasn't going to leave me.

Did you kill him?

No.

I believe you.

So do we, Marie-Octobre.

We believe you.

My friends, I don't know
what happened 15 years ago,

but I can't take
all these accusations seriously.

This is a dangerous game,
unworthy of us.

A game that we all stand to lose.
Beware.

My mind's made up.

Exactly.

I saw you all and heard you out,

all I can say is:
"We're terrific fellows."

But terrific fellows
behaving like jackasses.

We're accusing each other
of the worst crimes.

We want a culprit.
But what an absurd idea.

- I don't like grand phrases…
- What?

We lived through
a great moment together.

We loved beautiful women,
good food, the easy life.

And we rushed into an insane adventure.

We became terrorists,
counterfeiters, saboteurs.

Overnight we learned to use radio
transmitters, parachutes, explosives.

And all for what purpose?

For nothing. For honor.

And honor doesn't pay.

Honestly!
Have you forgotten everything?

And Marie-Octobre?

Remember your escape
from the Gestapo HQ?

And you, the printer?

We were glad he was there
for the forged papers.

As for you, Simoneau,

if I voted against you earlier,
I was wrong.

I apologize.

You took some crazy risks,
we all did.

So…

Let's give ourselves a break.

There are no villains here.

That's true.
I didn't laugh every day either.

Right. You were courageous.

- Wasn't I?
- Very.

When you hid
in Rue Chardon-Lagache,

I brought you food,
courtesy of Monsieur Marinval.

I fattened up a tax collector.
Great!

Some days I couldn't face it.

Seventh floor no elevator!
You chose the code name Aramis.

Aramis? With your mug?
That confused people!

Luckily, dear Victorine,
you were never arrested.

- I was once.
- You never told us.

Because I was in the wrong.

A roast beef, for Monsieur Aramis.

I wanted to take it to my sister-in-law,

and I ran into the police.

Plain clothes again!

- Did they question you?
- Of course.

I thought they were German police.
On the contrary.

On the contrary?

They admitted they were
in the Resistance as well.

As well?

I insinuated that I had contacts
in the Maquis.

- One thing led to another…
- You mentioned the network?

- Why shouldn't I?
- When was this?

The roast beef was
for my sister-in-law's name day.

She's called Jeanne,
her name day is August 20th.

And August 21st,
the Gestapo burst in here…

and killed Castille.

It's been puzzling us for 10 years!

What did I say?

You poor idiot, it was you
who denounced the network.

- Never.
- You did some odd things!

They were patriots!
I'm not an idiot!

A few minutes to go
before we know who will win this round

and be the European champions.
Champions in the plural,

as you can see,
the four are still at it…

Marinval!

I can hold my tongue.

One doesn't confide in just anyone.

You'd have done the same.

I saw they could be trusted.

How? They had nice faces?

How?

While we were talking,

one of their friends arrived
and announced,

I remember as if it was yesterday,

that the Canadian Allied landing
had failed the day before.

He'd received a message.

You should have seen them!
They were appalled,

it was pitiful to see.

They told me I could leave.

They were appalled.

You see.

You said:
"the Canadian Landing"?

Yes.

- It was in August '42.
- Yes. August '42.

The Gestapo came here
in August '44. 2 years later.

It's simple.

Consequently, Victorine is in the clear.

You see?
What did I tell you?

Accusing me like that…
With my rheumatism…

Everyone can be mistaken,
dear Victorine.

In short,
we're at the same point.

How delightful!

For my breakfast:
2 fried eggs and a bottle of dry white.

What's the time?

Excuse me,
but I must get back to the clinic.

Victorine, if you don't mind,
my overcoat, please.

- But, Thibaud…
- It's late, old man.

I have to be in the office at 8.

Don't let your pen-pushers cool down.

Come on, Vandamme…

Excuse me, but my newspaper
must be out at 7.

- Drop me off?
- Sure. It's on my way.

No, wait. Don't leave yet.

5 minutes. I ask you for 5 minutes.

It will all be sorted.

I doubt it.

Otherwise Marinval will accuse me
of putting a spoke in the wheel.

I'd hoped this could be
resolved between us.

I thought we'd have too much dignity
to bring in an outsider.

Too bad. You asked for it.

So a former enemy will judge us.

One man alone saw the traitor's face.

Only one man knows him.

This man is called Wilfried Müller.

He's an ex-intelligence officer
with the Wehrmacht.

Wilfried Müller is here.

He's waiting upstairs.

Damn.

There's still time to do without him.

No?

Too bad.

Monsieur Müller, please.

It was you, you bastard!

It was you.
Admit it!

No. Let me go!

Yes, it was a trap.
We had no other option.

And now? What now?

How much did you sell us for?

- It wasn't for money.
- No, for honor.

For honor!

But you'll talk.
I guarantee you'll talk.

You shit!

Why did you betray us?
Why?

For Marie-Octobre.

- What?
- I killed Castille for her.

- For love, perhaps?
- Yes, for love.

You take us for idiots?

You accused her of murder
for love, maybe?

Talk or I'll crush you!

Let him go!

You have nothing to lose now.
Tell us the truth.

I'll help you.
I think I've guessed the truth.

Help him?
A kick in the ass!

You loved Marie-Octobre,
you didn't lie.

But between this love
and Castille's death,

there's not only betrayal,
there's theft too.

The theft of 3 million.

It's not the first time a fool
steals for love. I've seen it before.

They imagine money is a way to seduce.
But it isn't always.

As this proves.

We don't give a damn
about why and how!

No mitigating circumstances!

Turn the rat over to me,
let's end this.

He's half dead.

Rougier, have some dignity.
Be a man.

You didn't kill Castille for me?
Not for me?

He knew I'd taken the network's money.

I realized he'd accuse me
in front of you…

Yes. You panicked.

- I went to get the others.
- The Gestapo rats!

You got them so they'd get rid
of Castille for you.

Isn't that right?

I lost my head.

It was only when I saw them
entering the grounds,

armed with machine-guns,
that I realized…

So… I wanted to make amends.

Well…

avoid the worst.

I raised the alarm.

But you took advantage
of the chaos to kill Castille.

What did you risk?
You played a double game.

A collaborator for the Germans,
and we'd accuse the Gestapo.

They did arrest me!

No, Rougier. They pretended to.

And you pretended to escape.

You asked Thibaud to extract
the bullet you'd shot yourself with.

You're a thief, a traitor
and a murderer.

Now let me leave.

Step back, all of you.

Marinval, your car keys.

Out of the way.

Further off!

Get out of the way.

No, Rougier. You won't get through.

Don't force me to shoot.
I beg you.

I beg you.

Don't move, I'll shoot.
It'll be your fault.

What will you do with him?

He's been tried. We all agree.

He'll sign a confession
and a suicide note.

You don't have the right.

Write.

No, I don't want to.
You can't force me.

Write.

Go on, Rougier. You've lost.
No one can help you now.

It will be short, you'll see.

"I confess…"

Go on.

"I confess, that in August 1944,

"I denounced to the Gestapo

"the Vaillance network.

"I also confess

"to murdering with my own hands

"Commander Castille,

"head of this network."

Only one more sentence.
Make an effort.

"Confronted by my old comrades,

"I have decided…

"I have decided…

"to take…

"to take my own life."

Sign it.

Sign it.

In the name of what justice
do you condemn him?

Our own justice.

What is justice
without forgiveness or pity?

Did he have pity for Castille?

- For the salvation of your souls…
- No preaching.

Thibaud, tell them to let me live.

I'm a bastard, it's true,
but I'll redeem myself.

Come on, get up.
I can't help you.

Blanchet…

You have a wife and children,
like me.

What will become of them?

- I'm not a dog.
- Get off my back.

Listen to me.

If you murder this man
— as it is murder —

don't count on me
to back up the suicide theory.

I'll denounce you to the police
and I'll testify against you.

Murder and complicity.
You know what you'll risk.

Simoneau, I needn't tell you.

We accept all the consequences.

All of them.

You accept them together
as a majority. But individually?

Alone with your conscience, no.

No, you're not monsters.

You don't execute a man
15 years later. It's vile.

In your hearts
you know you don't agree to it.

You don't agree,
but you don't dare say so.

Isn't that true, Thibaud?

Blanchet, isn't that true?

Vandamme?

And you too, Simoneau.

You know I'm right.
Admit it.

You really don't want to kill Rougier.

"Jacques Castel, the Vaillance network,

"18 years old, died deported.

"Pierre Brunet, the Vaillance network,

"33 years old, shot.

"Robert Fleuret, the Vaillance network,

"54 years old, tortured and shot.

"Étienne Godeau,
the Vaillance network,

"32 years old, tortured and shot.

"Jacqueline Rivière,
the Vaillance network,

"26 years old, deported and hanged.

"Pierre Castille,
head of the Vaillance network,

"murdered by…"

Marie-Octobre…

He's dead.

Hello? This is 248.

Get me the police, please.

Hello, police?

This is Oakwood Manor.

Can you come right away?

I've just killed a man.

Subtitles:
Lenny Borger & Charlotte Trench, ASIF

A 4K digitization and 2K restoration
by L'Immagine Ritrovata — Bologna

with the support of the CNC