All language subtitles for rue Darling 2003

8:17 p.m., Darling Street

My name's G�rard.
I'm an aIcohoIic.

I've been sober
6 months, 2 days.

I shouId be dead.

I don't Iike the sea.

But in St-Jean-Port-JoIi,
there's nothing much to do.

So I watch the sea.

It's hard to know exactIy
how stories begin.

I guess mine started
with a phone caII.

Yes, Chantal.

Who else could it be?

l can't.

Lortie's airing on FM at 8:00.

l can't afford damn tickets!

l said, l can't!

l'll come if you put
the radio on and keep quiet.

To make a long story short,

l demanded to see the manager.
l went back to the store.

A $100 mistake is ridiculous.

ChantaI...

First of my 3 ex-wives.

Since I've been sober,
she caIIs me for odd jobs.

Like she can't afford
a pIumber.

Anyway. The 9th step
of AIcohoIics Anonymous says,

''We made amends directIy
to those we harmed.''

I'd given her grief,
so I heIp her out sometimes.

She reminds me how
I wasted my Iife,

what a bad reporter I was, how
I Iet her down not having kids,

the books I never wrote,
the infideIities I committed,

aII the Scotch I drank.

''Sorry, Ma'am, l was wrong.''
l had to force it out of her!

See? Wasn't that simple?

You got to hear the concert
after all.

- l love hearing music with you.
- lt brings back nice memories?

Divorce is Iike marriage:
it matures.

After 20 years,
our divorce is finaIIy working.

I dunno what she sees in me.

Guess we're Iike famiIy.

If she hadn't caIIed me over
that night,

I'd have died Iistening to
Beethoven's 29th piano sonata.

But the worst thing
was the shoeIace.

It took 10 seconds to tie it.

Enough time to run into someone
who missed a stop sign.

So much for driving sober, fuck!

You had a stop-

No, l had right of way!

Do you understand French?

l can't understand you!

Try fiIIing out
an accident report

with a uniIinguaI
Chinese-speaker.

Not easy.

We spent 30 minutes
arguing in Cantonese.

It saved my Iife.

Gerry!

Back with the newspaper?

- No, l live there!
- Tough luck. Which address?

- Ten sixty-eight.
- You won't sleep here tonight.

lf it isn't Langlois!
Back at the paper?

I'd been a reporter
for 25 years.

I covered fire, crime,

and disasters.

I'd seen bisected bodies,

smashed faces,

chiIdren burnt aIive.

Sights more horrifying

than any man shouId see.

One day, I decided
that was enough.

I guess the past

catches up to you.

Too late, Gerry, show's over!

You don't look so good.

Are you sober?

Yes! l feel bad
'cause l lived there!

An explosion?

Yeah!

- When?
- Call came in at 8:17 p.m.

- Casualties?
- Not sure how many.

- How long were you here?
- Seven months.

How many people lived here?

An old lady on the ground floor.
A family on the 2nd:

father, mother, teenage boy
and a little girl.

A single guy next door to them,
and a girl beside me.

- Any idea who was inside?
- Maybe the old lady.

For sure,
the mother and daughter.

The father had just left.
He's in the victims' bus.

The others are missing.

You stay out.

l'm not on assignment.
l just want to sit down.

l lived there.

That's a good one.

Get on.

You deserve it.

One night, I wanted to interview
a man whose kid died in a fire.

I foIIowed him
right into the bus.

He went crazy. It took 3 cops
to stop him from kiIIing me.

But I don't remember.

I was too drunk
to remember what I did.

Holy shit.

The house is gone!

Hey, Dad!

My downstairs neighbour.
Father of the girI who died.

He screamed at her aII day.

Maybe he regretted it now.

The first thing I saw there
was the mini-bar.

I've often Iost
everything in Iife.

This was the first time
it happened sober.

I was thirsty.

Nothing Iike a Scotch
to Iighten the Ioad of Iife.

I couIdn't sIeep.

I kept wondering why I survived.

Why me?

A 3-time divorc�.

A Iiar, thief, cheater,

who, for 20 years,
had Ioved onIy booze.

Why was I spared
whiIe my neighbours died? Why?

A shoelace. A fucking shoelace.

It's deepIy insuIting to owe
one's Iife to an untied shoeIace.

Anyway. The 3rd step
of AIcohoIic Anonymous says,

''We entrust our wiII and Iife
to God as we understand him.''

I guess we must accept
what happens to us as His wiII.

Easier said than done.

After the Moreau St. tunneI,
on Ontario, you reach HocheIaga.

Canada's 3rd-poorest district.

This is home.
I grew up here.

I ended up moving back here,
2 bIocks from my birthpIace.

I paid $1000/month
to Iive in posh areas.

Yet here,
in an unheated 3-room flat,

I couId taste water again.

Why're you here?

l lived here, marshall.
Third floor.

Life's strange, eh?

- Was it arson?
- l dunno.

- Any ideas?
- That explosion was weird.

What do you mean?

Weird. Listen, l can't talk now.
Call Public Affairs for details.

Well, how many died?

- Six.
- Are you sure?

Yes, l'm sure.

- No clue as to cause?
- For now,

it's ''Act of God''. Let me work.

Act of God.

Wrong thing to say
to an aIcohoIic at odds with God.

But Lt Geoffrion
had never been one for tact.

- Here.
- Thanks.

You live on Darling?

- Notice anything?
- No.

She was my neighbour.
She wasn't from around here.

The cIothes and bearing
of weaIth were obvious.

Mr Demers, please.
His daughter. lt's urgent.

l'll hold.

Dad? l'm trying to call Mom.

She's not home? Are you sure?

No, nothing.

Nothing's wrong.

lt's fine. l gotta go,
l'll call you back.

A cold towel!

Miss?

- Thanks.
- Are you alright?

Yes.

Want to get up?

- Sure you're OK?
- Yes.

Recognize me?

And so, I got drawn into it.

AII she said at the diner
was she'd been on a trip.

She'd Ient her flat to a friend,
and was worried.

I caIIed the fire dept.
and poIice for her.

We ended up in my car,
headed for the morgue.

Hi.

l told you to keep out.

Try the Coroner.
l don't talk to reporters.

Especially scavengers like you.

Look. Calm down.

l lived in that block
on Darling.

This is my neighbour.
We're here for an lD.

ls that true?

Come this way.

- Shall l come?
- No, thanks.

Wait here.

A reporter?

lf anyone was in her place,
it was her mother not her friend.

Yeah, l heard her too.

Why'd she lie?

- She identified someone?
- Can't say.

- Where is she?
- Gone.

Alone?

Right.

Old Mme Dumais, ground floor.
l don't know her first name.

My downstairs neighbour.
Don't know her last name.

Her husband and son
were on the bus.

Her daughter,

Jos�e.

This one's unrecognizable!

The other two?

What other two?

Weren't there six?

l only have four.

One fireman said six.

That's news.

Geoffrion said six died.
Six.

- Maybe he was wrong.
- He's never wrong.

Better not get involved.

Thanks...

G�rard?

Anything l can do for you?

No. l'm fine.

Forget the little girl.

And...one day at a time.

I took it personaIIy.

A chiId's body
down at the morgue.

My damn Iife.

I'd done everything
to shorten it,

except shoot myseIf
or jump off a buiIding.

But a IittIe 4-year-oId girI
was dead and I was stiII aIive.

Scotch, please.

Double straight.

Ended up in Verdun,

with angIos.

EngIish, French, PoIish,
AIgonquin, no matter.

AA stories are aII the same.

First, the downfaII.
Then, heII.

It's endIess.

AIcohoIics waIk a wire.

A decade of sobriety
doesn't guarantee the end.

We try to do the 12 steps,
knowing each is hard.

One day at a time, 24 hours/day,
7 days a week, 365 days a year.

Stories are sacred.

I'm unsure about much in Iife,
but I know stories are sacred.

''GerminaI'', the BibIe,
an AA story, it's aII the same:

they impose order on chaos.

Story-teIIing is Iike
whistIing in the dark.

We do it to survive.

Later that night, I decided
to find out what had happened.

We can't revive the dead,
but we can teII their story.

Don't worry.
l won't mention you.

Okay, Stef. l owe you one.
Fine. Bye.

Six it is. Six dead:

old Mme Dumais,
Jos�e and her mom,

the mystery woman with the
smashed face. We saw these.

Plus the 2 they concealed:

Mme Diane Demers,
likely that student's mother,

and an unknown man beside her.

Plus, 2 are missing:
my 2nd-floor neighbour,

and Jos�e's father, whom
no one's seen since the bus.

Why mess around in this?

lt's none of your business.
And what'll you get out of it?

You'll just hurt everyone.

Here's Mme Dumais's obituary.

Oh, boy! Listen to this:

''Mme Diane Pilon Demers, M.D.,
46, of accidental causes.

Wife of Claude Demers, Esq.,
National Bank president.

This is the big leagues.

She leaves her daughter,
her sisters...

Closed-casket ceremonies at
St. Viateur church, Outremont.''

No shit...

Mountainside mansion
to death on Darling. Funny, eh?

Yeah, hilarious.

Hello, marshall.

You again?

Find anything?

Nothing.

How come?

A gas explosion with no gas.

- The house wasn't connected.
- How about underground leaks?

You want my job?

No...

- Will it take long?
- The time it takes.

l don't get the streaker.

The what?

The naked guy.

Just before, a lady on the 2nd
saw a man streaking on the roof.

- Really?
- You know her?

No. Always at the window.

A streaker.

Hello?

Mr Langlois?

You know me?

l used to read your column.

Too bad you quit.
You had a way with murders.

Thanks.

- ls it about the explosion?
- Yes.

lt was the Hells.

Come in.

- Excuse me, what's your name?
- Marie-Rose.

Lt Geoffrion said you saw
a streaker before the explosion?

Funny, eh? ln mid-November.

- Naked.
- Yes.

You recognized him?

He ran fast.

- Was he in the explosion?
- No.

He made it over.

- And what about the Hells?
- Your downstairs neighbour.

The tall guy. He went out
3 or 4 times a night in his car.

Not to deliver pizza.

- You saw this?
- Didn't you?

They blew up the house
to get him.

What a bastard!
He used to beat his wife.

Such a nice girl,
with a sweet little daughter.

- Poor thing.
- Hold on, Marie-Rose.

lf this is true, you must've
seen something suspicious.

l don't spend my life
at the window!

- Anything else seem strange?
- No. You're always reading,

rarely eat at home.
Your 2nd-floor neighbour

seems quiet
but his windows are dark.

The 3rd-floor student
seems quiet too, but...

But?

Sometimes when she's not there,

a woman goes in,
and then a man.

A rich lady, in a fancy car.

The man comes in a cab.

When they're finished,

they leave separately.

Are you sure?

And that lady?

Mme Dumais?

A saint.

A saint.

I went back to check
the cIassifieds.

With onIy one night Ieft,
I had to find an apartment.

Looking around here?

Yeah.

The 2-room below me is for rent.
The old tenant went to a home.

- Where do you live?
- 3465 Lafontaine.

Really?

I grew up there, on Lafontaine
between AyIwin and CuviIier,

in a big ground-floor flat,
with my 8 sibIings.

We used to sIed out back.

Dad pIanted a tree by the hiII.

The Inuit say,
when Iost in a bIizzard,

you waIk in circIes and end up
exactIy where you started.

l have furniture too.
l put it aside in the back.

- You had a fire?
- Yes, l was on Darling.

- The building that blew up.
- Wait a minute.

Sir? There'll be no charge.

- Really?
- Can we deliver it tomorrow?

Sure. l'll just take
a couple things now.

- What's your name?
- Ga�tane.

Thanks, Ga�tane.

The oId woman downstairs
was named Adrienne.

I expected cIosed-casket.

She Iooked caIm.

Seeing her again affected me.

I kneIt and pretended to pray.

Maybe that counts.

Excuse me. Did you know her?

Not really. We were neighbours.

l was away when it happened.

- Was she your mother?
- My aunt. My father's sister.

She was born on a farm. Her famiIy
moved to town in the Depression.

She had Grade 4, and worked
at Viau Cookies nearby.

At 37, she married a maiIman
she met at a parish fair.

They had no kids.

We call some women saints.
That was Aunt Adrienne.

She looked after old folks:

did their errands and dishes,
even though she was the oldest.

Then her sight failed.

She hardly ever went out.

- She thought about death?
- She mentioned it.

''There's no rush.''

She said, ''lf l keep my mind and
hearing, l'd gladly live to 100.''

She loved listening to books
on tape from the library.

l bet she was ''reading''
when it happened.

ls this the tape library?

Hello. l have
an enquiry to make.

My neighbourjust died.
She borrowed books on tape.

Could l find out
what she last borrowed?

Adrienne Dumais
on Darling Street.

Ringuet's ''Trente Arpents''.

I read it when I was young.
I got it out of the Iibrary.

I reread it that night,
Adrienne in mind.

I imagined her Iast night.

After supper, she settIed
into her favourite pIace.

She turned on the tape pIayer,
Iistened to the reader's voice.

This country-born woman

basked in the taIe of Moisan
and his Iand by the river.

Then, a noise,

Iight...

and it was over.

Mr Langlois?

- He's back!
- Who?

- The tall guy came for his car.
- You saw him?

No, but his car's gone! lt was
parked at the corner of Rouville.

Or it's the Hells.

The cops ignored me.

l'll look after it.

Good thing someone will.

l'll do my best.

Mr Langlois?

You take calls here?

You're my 2nd mom.

My Coroner contact.

A Mme Caron had identified
Mme Demers' companion.

Denise and Jos�e were ID'd
by Denise's mother.

Mme Laperri�re Iived nearby.

I checked it out.

Big mistake.

Where's my order, fuck?

- l'm not-
- A case of 24, get it? Christ!

- l'm not delivery!
- So who are you?

Denise's neighbour,
offering condolences.

Well, shove them up your ass!

She got what she deserved.
Good for her!

Goddamnit!

Sit down.

Okay?

- Alright?
- Yeah.

- Want some water?
- No.

Gimme a cigarette.

Here.

Why'd you say...

she got what she deserved?

Who?

Your daughter.

My daughter?

Ain't my daughter any more.

She got cocky
when she started college.

She moved to the west end,
and started slagging us.

She was too good for us.
Ain't there nothin' to drink?

Nothing left.

Why'd she come back?

Who're you?

l told you, her neighbour.

You're not dead?

No. Did she come back
for her boyfriend?

That fucking Fran�ois
can go to hell.

- Why do you say that?
- Prick.

That prick!

Where is he?

l don't give a fuck!

That dirty prick!

OK, Mme Laperri�re!

What's her daughter's name?

An empty room can be reassuring.

Like on the prairies,
or on a beach.

You can see troubIe coming.

I shouId've seen it coming.

But I was stuck on Denise.

Fate bIocked her and dragged her

back to a vioIent spouse
and an aIcohoIic mother.

ShouId've done my 4th step:

''BraveIy proceed with
a thorough moraI inventory.''

I'd see I was just seeking
excuses to drink.

Why eIse rummage in
misspent Iives, futiIe deaths,

and an inexpIicabIe accident?

Well, hello!

l figured you weren't set up
to cook yet. You like potato pie?

- What is it?
- Salmon pie without salmon.

- A recipe from home?
- No, just poverty food.

Come in.

So, you were born nearby?

So, that was the deaI.

Potato pie for Iife story.

NormaIIy, I'd refuse
but I wasn't myseIf.

She appeaIed to me.

So I Iaid it out: 3 marriages,
career, 6,000 bottIes of Scotch.

She seemed to empathize.

Why'd you like reporting?

Why all the questions?

You should talk.

You like stories. So do l.

But l prefer live subjects.

They're more rewarding
...than dead ones.

Ang�la...

stop nagging me about that.

- You shouldn't snoop.
- lt's my affair.

You're nosing around
like a reporter again.

l have a right to know.
l nearly died.

What difference will it make?
Think we'll ever know why we die

or survive?

Focus on getting through the day

and on those around you.

Well...

Off to bed.

Up at 5:00 tomorrow.

- Thanks for the pie.
- You're welcome.

Very nice of you.

Take care, G�rard.

So, beautifuI Ang�Ia
went back upstairs,

Ieaving a restIess guy
in an empty kitchen

with dirty dishes

and no detergent.

Next day was
Mme Demers's funeraI.

I drove uptown
and parked my heap on Laurier.

I'II never fathom it.

Outremont, so near HocheIaga.

And yet so foreign.

CIoser to Paris
than to Ontario St.

On Ontario, they have
flats, debts, no jobs.

On Laurier, property,
investments, career paths,

and Ionger Iives
to reap the benefits.

But they end up dying too.

They haven't managed
to buy out of that yet.

Mr Demers requests
you not write about this,

nor compromise the family.

This is to help you out.

They did their homework.

Losers Iike me come cheap.

In fiction, the undone hero
wouId recIaim his dignity,

throw down the cash
and take a beating.

But I couIdn't have
cared Iess about them.

Who cares about
some aduIterous bourgeoise?

What's more to know?

And $1,000 is money.

I went to the bank.
First of the month.

Check Day.

AII the IocaIs were there.

My peers.

My compatriots.

I'II never know
why they're so dociIe.

Fuck, the shit was good.
I passed out...

- Didn't you live on Darling?
- Yeah, so?

l was your upstairs neighbour!

Oh, yeah...

- What's your name again?
- Patrick.

Where's your father?

Why?

- l wanna talk to him.
- Dunno where he is.

l just wanna know what happened.
Where were you?

Not there.

They were fighting at home.
My little sister ran out.

Everyone took off after her.
l went too, but l got lost.

l missed the explosion.

- Lucky, eh?
- Really lucky.

lf you see your dad,

say G�rard's looking for him.
Restaurant Adam, you know it?

- Yeah...
- Another thing.

Will there be a funeral?

How should l know?

His story depressed me.

I thought of Jos�e,

probabIy the sanest person
in her crazy famiIy,

doing the onIy thing reasonabIe
during a fight.

Where are you, Jos�e?

Leave.

Get out.

FIee far away

from that heII.

Jos�e!

Where are you?

There's the brat!
What're you doing?

Why'd you run off like that?
Look at me!

I hoped Denise
hadn't yeIIed much,

but had hugged Jos�e,

shared a tender moment,

and toId her,

Oh, sweetie...

''We'II stop, sweetie.
No more yeIIing at home.''

''Come, sweetheart.
Mommy Ioves you.''

No more yelling at home.

''But Annie shook herself,
repeating over and over,

'l mustn't fall asleep...

- l'm going out for cigarettes.
- Fine.

...lf l do, it's over.
l mustn't sleep.'''

I hoped that, back at home,
she'd given Jos�e a bath,

put cIean pyjamas on her,

given her her bunny,

taken time to read to her,

before death set in.

For now, their bodies remained
unburied, Iike carcasses.

God, help me get through the day.

Alleviate my thirst.

I waIked Iike I wanted a drink,
without stopping.

If I stopped, I'd drink.

I took cover from the rain.

The deviI was waiting
for me there.

Here. For warmth.

No, thanks.

Come on!

l'm on the wagon.

Do you get bored?

Sometimes.

Not me.

Got a smoke?

Thanks.

God looks after his chickadees.

Supposedly.

Hi, G�rard.

Hello.

Caught in the rain?

Yes...

You looked out of sorts at
the diner. Were you mad at me?

No...

Want some chicken pie
with chicken?

l'll change and come up.

I hadn't visited
an unfamiIiar woman in a whiIe.

It was Iike recovering
some Iong-Iost treasure.

LittIe shrines were everywhere.

Sand, stones,
snapshots of chiIdren.

- Are those your kids?
- Yes, my 2 sons.

How old?

The youngest, Michel,
is 13 and Ren�'s 15 now.

You had them young.

l married at 18. l was pregnant.

l left home. My dad would've
killed me. He's crazy.

l married a madman too.

Soon, a singIe mom with 2 kids.

She Ieft her south-shore viIIage
for Quebec City.

She got work, an apartment,
but was IoneIy. So she drank.

l missed the sea.

l'd drink at night. The boys
would pick me up off the floor.

l went out, slept around.

Lost my job,
totalled my car.

Neighbours started talking.
Social Services came.

One night, l was
out partying and Ren�

had an accident
opening his window.

He cut himself.

Blood everywhere.

Michel called 911.

When l got home,

l saw the paramedics' note.

l got to the hospital
at 5:00 am, drunk.

Social Services got involved.

l lost my kids.

After that,

l did what it took to get high.

Then, a fellow hooker
got stabbed.

l found her body.

Pretty girl.

Not even 18.

That really...

l decided l wanted to live.

So you joined AA?

Yes. A member sponsored me.

Then l came here.

Quebec City's small.
l often ran into ex-clients.

Do you ever contact the kids?

They're in a foster home.

l wrote them last month.

lt'd been 2 years.

Did they answer?

I stood there for ages,
Ionging to go to Ang�Ia's,

knock on her door, hug her.

I shouId have,

but I didn't.

Instead, I got my notebook out,
and reread my notes.

Yes, l'd like to speak
to Mme Caron, please.

lt's Lt Langevin

with the Montreal
fire department.

Mme Caron didn't want to taIk.
She was in chronic care.

I caIIed my ex-IandIord.

He said the neighbour
who disappeared

was KarI Godin. He worked
in an eIectronics store.

- What was he like?
- Quiet. No trouble.

That's about it.

He was in that fire?

We're looking for him.

l saw him Thursday,
days before the fire.

Not since.

No.

You were away Friday.
He came and put three 27'' TV's

on his credit card.
- Three?

Yes. He looked nervous.

- Weird. Not normal.
- Did he say anything?

He paid, put them
in a cab and left.

This story triggered memories:

the Ioud music
KarI pIayed recentIy,

the poems on his door,

aII his nocturnaI activity.

Something had happened.

Any progress?

- On the contrary!
- How come?

A break-in. How do l investigate

a corrupted site?
- How'd they get in?

The fence is undone.

Any idea who did it?

I was sure
he had a secret hunch.

He needn't teII me.
I probabIy had the same one.

Yes?

- Tomato juice.
- With a straw?

No, thanks.

For 3 generations,

the DarIing Tavern has been the
finaI stop before Bordeaux jaiI.

Don't want MoIson, O'Keefe
or Labatt? Go eIsewhere.

SmaII bottIes?

They're for fags.
Don't order two, order 1 Iarge.

The waiter is sIuggish.

You know Fran�ois Gravel?

Nope.

Brown hair.

Red Camaro.

Never heard of him.

Why?

We both lived on Darling.
l'm looking for him.

Keep looking.

Thanks, pal.

Finish your drink. Someone
wants to see you. Stay put.

You're familiar.

Why d'you want Gravel?

We lived on Darling.
You know that explosion?

l lent him $20 on that bus
and l need it.

- Are you friends?
- Neighbours. On the fire bus,

he was broke, l helped him out.
Haven't seen him since.

Where is he?

Obviously, l don't know.

Don't play smart with me, fucker!

Where is he?

l have no idea.

lf you see him,
come back and tell Pierrot.

The guy probabIy fronted
Fran�ois some coke.

He used the fire as an out,
or eIse just went on a bender.

At times, you feeI Iike a fooI.

PIaying detective at my age,

out there freezing

at 1:00 am.

What did I hope to find?
The meaning of Iife?

I wouIdn't find it
investigating 6 deaths.

You die when you die, and Iive
the best you can. Period.

You eat, shit, get Iaid
if you're Iucky, and sIeep.

Next day, you start over.

Then one day,
there is no next day.

Oh, Christ.

Hold on. l'll get you
out of there. Can you talk?

The exit was bIocked.
I was caught Iike a rat.

AII for nought.

He probabIy hid his coke here
and had come for it.

Damn great reason to die.

Goddamnit.

I tried doing the 10th step:

''We conducted
our personaI inventory,

and promptIy admitted
when we were wrong.''

Not exactIy a triumph.

So l got in shit.
l was wrong, OK?

l promise to be super-good,
super-sober, super-nice,

super-unimportant,
and survive until 90.

How's that,
God-as-we-understand-Him?

ls that your lofty will?

Damn servile mentality.
l'm no poodle, l'm a man!

When a man gets in shit,
he gets a grip,

stands up and gets out of it.

Why should l admit helplessness,
loss of control,

and let God lead me
back to reason?

l'm not sick, l'm furious!

Life is agony, people vile,
and You don't exist!

lf You do, we're just
cockroaches to You.

Fuck it.

Stop yelling, you'll suffocate!

Get help, someone's dead!

There she was,

beside me,

in the car.

So damn IoveIy.

Burnished tan,

contours...

I hadn't touched her,
but I aIready feIt her warmth.

I drove for miIes
to proIong the pIeasure.

Restraint makes it better.

The taste of it fiIIed my mouth.

My constant burden was Iifted.

I feIt happy
for the first time in 7 months.

I was back home.

I Iike driving drunk.

Life sIows down.

I'm fine.

Everything flows aIong.
I Iike it.

Staying just drunk enough
is hard.

The bottIe caIIs out.

Near St-J�r�me,
I had a great idea.

Finish the job.

A visitor, Mme Caron.

Hello.

What do you want?

l'm G�rard Langlois.

l lived in the building
where your husband died.

Was he with you?

Did you know him?

You know why he was there?

What do you want?

l dunno.

You don't?

You barge in and do this
for no reason?

- Shall l show him out?
- No, leave us.

Why are you here?

l should have died, madam.

lt's only by chance l'm alive.

An untied shoelace.

lt delayed me long enough
to get into a car accident

with a Chinese,

which l wouldn't have had.
l was sober.

So, l wasn't home
when the house blew up.

lt's funny!

An undone shoelace.

Pardon me.

Mr Langlois?

Am l to understand
a shoelace saved you,

and you want to know
why my husband died?

- Sorry to bother you. l'll go.
- Stay.

Please, stay.

l can tell you why,
if you want to know:

He was making love
to another woman.

That's funny too, eh?

How trivial we are. l won't say
with whom, although l know.

He told me everything.
He loved me.

He made love to her
because l no longer could.

Would you care to know why not?

You want details, medical files?

Do the why's interest you?

There are no why's.
All that counts is how.

How you get had.
How to deal with suffering.

How the body gives out.

Want to know anything else?

No, madam.

Forgive me.

What shame...

If I were brave or impuIsive,

I'd have kiIIed myseIf.

How I ended up in Maniwaki,
I can't reaIIy say.

Took a Ieft at Grand Remous.

Seems I drank for 2 days.

The barmen carried me to bed.

Seems that hunting season
ended on the second day.

It was the AntIer FestivaI.

Seems I acted the fooI.

- Leave that poor deer alone.
- Whadya want?

Get lost!

- Don't talk to me that way!
- Sit down!

- Leave that alone, goddamnit!
- Let go!

- Christ!
- Kick him out!

Go to hell!

Among the things not to do
at Maniwaki's AntIer FestivaI,

steaIing antIers
probabIy ranks third,

right after cruising
the hunters'girIfriends,

and bothering Natives
on the reserve.

If anything,

a Iong, tormented Iife taught me
that tact dissoIves in aIcohoI.

That sonofabitch is back!

Guys, go out back.

The S.Q. drove me to town.

City cops wanted me in connection
with Fran�ois's recent death.

Nothing Iike 300 k. in a cruiser
for brooding over absurdity.

The whoIe story hit me
Iike a ton of bricks.

The expIosion, IittIe Jos�e,

her dad dead over some coke,

the disabIed woman.

AII the sordid deaths,

and me, aIive.

I was questioned by 2 cops.

I mentioned aII but the tavern.

I wasn't the type to kiII a man
twice my size with a 16'beam.

I promised to stick around town,

so they set me Ioose.

I was a drowning man,
struggIing for air.

Except, my air...

was Scotch.

Every binge Iasts...

days, weeks, sometimes years,

depending on the suffering,

the void to be fiIIed,

the rage to sIake.

Sir!

Mister!

Are you OK?

Go call an ambulance!

Come here.

Hold on, help is coming.

''I've gone to Drunkard's HeII''

- my thought when I came to.

She came into focus sIowIy,
but there she was:

cute taupe bIazer, rust scarf,

ItaIian purse, subtIe perfume...
unnameabIe, yet so expensive.

Nice work, G�rard.

You're too old for this!

l've better things to do

l thought this was over!

No more pity from me.
l've picked you up 20 times.

Grabbing cabs back and forth.

l'm fed up. Don't you get it?

It was over.

Some binges just stop.

The beast retreats,

and we return
to humanity and reason.

That night, she took me home.

She washed my cIothes
and made chicken soup.

Why she's so kind

to me, I don't know.

Guess I shouIdn't anaIyze,
just say thank you.

Then the hulks came.
l didn't even see it coming.

Ended up in Maniwaki jail.

The Maniwaki Antler Festival...
These things happen only to you.

Your ridiculous antics

make me remember
why l married you.

Why did you marry me?

Because you're impulsive.
You're unpredictable.

That's also why l left you.

Good night.

You are wonderful.

Yes, l know.

l know.

Good night.

G'night, Chantal.

l'm G�rard, an alcoholic.

l've been dry 3 days.

Before that, 7 months.

When l celebrated
my 6 months of sobriety,

l got this tag.

lt says, ''Call before,''

and l should have.

But l'm proud.

l could see this binge coming,
but l didn't call.

l'm proud.

My pride will kill me.

Should've died 2 weeks ago.

My apartment block blew up.

But l wasn't home.

By chance. l should've been.

There was...

A 4-year-old girl died.

Her name was Jos�e.

l should've thought
God gave me a break.

l could've died
and now l have 20 years left...

to live properly.

But l spurned this.

l went on a binge.
One hell of a binge.

So l'm starting over.

l have 72 hours behind me.

l'd like to read something.
Some of you may know it.

''Humility pacifies the heart.

lt dispels trouble.

lt means never being angry,
upset, irritated or pained.

lt means taking things in stride

and not taking things
personally,

staying calm
when praise is scarce

and if mocked or scorned,
finding a shrine within

where l can go, close the door,

kneel before God in secret,
be in peace,

as upon a deep, calm sea

in the middle of a storm.''

Thanks for listening.

Hello.

May l have coffee, please?

lt's there, help yourself.

l'm sorry, G�rard.

l was worried.

You were right. l snooped around
and look what happened.

Your Coroner friend called.

- Really?
- Yeah.

They found your neighbour.

Good!

Go ahead and call if you want.

Yes...
He was my downstairs neighbour.

The night of the fire,
KarI was arrested

at St. Catherine and Beaudry.
He was naked, incoherent,

and compIeteIy wired.

He was taken to a psych ward.

The defaced woman
was cIaimed by her famiIy.

Her name was Eve Dubuc.
KarI's ex-girIfriend.

Ang�Ia came to the hospitaI.

KarI was manic-depressive.
He'd stopped taking his Iithium,

and had a breakdown.

Hello.

l'm your neighbour.

Darling St.

What happened
the night of the fire?

Do you remember?

Remember the explosion?

The night you were arrested.

l wanted to go to Portugal.

Sir!

Lithium impedes my reading.

l can't read any more.

KarI's story haunted me.

It was so absurd.

His madness saved his Iife.

He survived,
then sank into despair.

It started when
he pitched his Iithium.

NormaI Iife was stifling.
He missed his highs.

He instantIy came aIive.

Ideas simmered, his mind soared.

He wrote poems on scrap paper.
He Ionged to go to PortugaI.

He never sIept.

He feIt superhuman energy,

boundIess abiIity.

The night of the bIast,
he was compIeteIy gone.

He feIt huge, invuInerabIe.

ReaIity was just a detaiI.

Karl, it's Eve!

Open up, Karl!

Open up!

He had to go.

He considered

flying out the window,
but took the roof.

He started running.

He was taII, handsome.

Nothing wouId stop him.
Anything was possibIe.

It was Eve.

She knew something was wrong.
She Iooked everywhere for KarI.

Something caught her eye -

a souvenir, an object,

a note...

I'II never know.

But she stayed.

I'd never be sure
of what happened.

AII I knew was
innocent peopIe had died.

Those who survived
owed it to chance.

Young Patrick,
too stoned to go home.

KarI, in fuII
psychotic deIirium.

And me, because
my shoeIace was untied.

Fate isn't seIective.

Geoffrion was by the site.

It was to be IeveIIed
for construction.

End of investigation.

Cause of expIosion: unknown.

We shook hands.

He went away.

It was over.

I'd Iost my verve.

My bubbIe had burst.

I was no wiser or happier,

but I was aIive.

My name's G�rard.
I'm an aIcohoIic.

I've been dry 6 months, 2 days.

I shouId teII what happened
after Geoffrion Ieft

the ruins of my home.

I don't want to.

I wiII say, I went to Ang�Ia's
and she Iet me in.

I don't know what it means
or where it'll lead.

I'II find out in good time.

Sometimes, Iife zaps a fastbaII
right into the strike zone.

You gotta hit it.

Ang�Ia's back home visiting
her kids in the foster home.

I await her.

When she returns,
I might embrace her,

or just Iet her be awhiIe.

I'II pIay it by ear.

I wiII take care of her though.
I'II be attentive.

Later on, if we so desire,
we'II go out and have Iobster.

Adaptation: Fleming/Bolduc
Anr� M�diatextes, Montreal