Original subtitles

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Ki lo sa?

Dear Jean-Pierre,

my husband and I decided to spend our holidays in the villa.

We remain attached to it, despite its disrepair and out-fashioned look.

It remains the place of my childhood.

Anyway...

You should get ready... You should get the house ready...

for our arrival.

Also, prepare the dependence your parents lived in.

We will host some friends there.

You need to find another home too.

You can of course continue to take care of the park, if you want to.

I will soon communicate you the date of our arrival.

All the best.

Mrs Lefort.

Mrs Lefort...

Do you have fire?

Excuse me.

Do you often come here?

Do you like the sea?

I've been waiting for 2 hours. I thought you wouldn't come.

It doesn't matter. I brought you a gift.

- Do you like it? - Yes.

Won't you wear it?

No, not now.

You are so mysterious. It's fascinating.

- Let's go now. I don't have much time. - Neither do I. Next time, okay?

It's been years.

And now we will meet again, like we never parted.

What? They won't come?

What do you know about men?

They will all come.

I know, I know...

I can't compromise myself with this rag.

I'll write what I want or nothing.

My sex in her mouth,

I was rolling away

"Wait for it to be loose."

We had a talk.

My sex...

was at rest again, on my thigh.

I waved at her,

and her lips took over it.

She hadn't made a single gesture...

that it came back...

to its maximum seize.

Her mouth...

enclosing my plans penis,

she look up at me.

I felt...

tears of joy...

choking me.

- Hello Dolan. - Hello Charlot.

Charlot let her hair grow.

I barely recognize her.

Am I the first?

Pierrot!

- Gypsy, how are you? - I'm fine.

- What are you doing here? - I was afraid of going alone.

Do you think they will come?

- I don't know. - They won't come.

They are dead.

They are all dead.

They disappeared.

They don't exist anymore.

Idiot!

And it makes you laugh? You retarded!

So they let you live here.

Even better. They pay me to take care of the house and the park.

Nice.

Very nice. You are a caretaker.

Aren't you sleeping?

I need fresh air.

It's very hot.

Yes.

Let's have a drink.

Yeah, let's go.

I'm thinking of our friends that didn't come.

I suppose they work.

Or went to holidays...

They raise they children. And take care of their bodies.

- What? - They take care of their bodies!

One of the thing I love the most...

is having drinks late at night while listening to music.

- What? - Listen to musics. Hits.

Trendy music.

It puts me in a state of melancholy I love.

They live like their fathers did.

20 years ago they hated them. Now they are like them.

I can't stand them.

Maybe all we went through was actually our imagination.

Ladies and gentlemen, the last track of this night will be calm.

I hope to see you again on Friday at 10 P.M. at the Mystique.

Goodbye everybody and see you soon.

- Did you sleep well? - Yeah.

Very well.

You were right to stay.

Tress must always be taken care of. They are fragile.

- Dada! - What?

- What about cleaning the path? - Let's do it!

- Are you coming? - No, thanks.

I'm gonna catch you, Marie!

Try!

I never was good with women.

When I was a kid, I spent my time on the ground,

trying to look under my Mom's friend's skirts.

The place the tights stop and the thigh is white.

Now I keep dreaming.

- Do you think this is the DS? - We'll see, grab the other side.

They left everything.

The DS, the villa, the park...

And Dada.

Hey man!

You alright?

- What's the matter? - Nothing. I think...

I think it's the sun.

- Are you sure you're okay? - Yeah.

- Do you have a drink? - Sure, come.

I'm sure it's working.

There's a problem.

- The battery? Pincer! - Pincer.

Who inherited the villa?

A niece that came from time to time. Blonde and tall, don't you remember?

A niece?

No, I can't remember her.

- Pincer? Spanner? - Yes...

This one.

I feel better.

Don't you drink too?

I wish I could work, drink and sleep.

A simple life.

But I can't.

Can you?

Not really.

- Does the niece come sometimes? - No.

But she doesn't want to sell it. "Family property."

Let me drive it!

Swimming is strictly forbidden. Subject to prosecution.

Wait! I'll show you!

- Come! - No, no.

- Come on! - Pierrot! We will come and get you.

Let me do push-ups.

I'll tell you a secret.

When I decided to kiss you...

it was the first time of my life I kissed a girl.

Is that true?

I was so shy I thought my heart was gonna explode.

I think never beat as fast as that day again.

I almost had a heart attack.

Luckily I was gifted.

It's true you were!

Let's go for a walk.

- What was that? - I saluted the landscape.

Beautiful! Poetic!

- Fuck you. - Naive poesy.

Shut the fuck up! Fuck you!

I don't understand why you got mad, Dad.

There was no reason to.

It's true you are naive.

Wake up.

Pierrot! Marie!

Gitan!

Pierrot! Marie! Gitan!

Come!

Come!

Hey, look.

Pierre always had elevation.

And distance.

Dada, wide eyed, was always amazed.

Gitan, behind his eyelids, was taking decisions.

And Marie was a clown. At your service.

I'm gonna say goodbye to you.

Can't you stay a bit longer?

No.

- Until noon. - I'll leave with you, Marie.

- Bye. - Ciao.

- Are you leaving too, Gitan? - No.

I have to finish the clearing of the path.

Be back before ten years.

One last drink before we go?

You understood everything.

You can stay if you want.

The two of us could do the whole park.

I received a check?

This is a good one.

But not very fresh.

The local supermarket, you know what it's like.

All we need now is a woman.

Charlot will come.

I can hear her.

I hear her.

Listen.

She's coming.

She's coming.

You could offer me some.

Son of a stupid bitch.

Lost. Broken down.

Let's go! Let's all go! Come on!

Come on! Let's go!

It's nothing.

Read me your last sentence.

It's...

This insane game that writing is,

to arrogate oneself, because of a doubt, with drops of ink, at night.

A duty to recreate everything.

Using reminiscences.

Aver that one is where one is supposed to be.

Because...

let me verbalize my apprehension...

it remains an incertitude.

It's magnificent.

Rhythm, syntax...

You have to be published.

- With your part-time job you make both ends meet? - If you want to know...

I don't work. My mother provide for me. I'm a coward.

Were you texts refused?

I never submitted one. I think they are too bad.

I could re-work them but I have neither the courage nor the desire.

But your texts are interesting. You have to fight, persevere!

I don't have the strength anymore. I never had it actually.

Nobody is interested in my texts. I'm out of this world.

Fight... for nothing?

I don't think I'm right. I think I'm wrong. I'm disgusted of myself, Dada.

I'm nothing. My body disgusts me.

Let see what the others are doing.

Everything's fine.

Tell me... Lenin and Inessa Armand. They did or didn't they?

We don't know.

He listened to her playing piano for hours and he was devastated at his funerals.

But we have no proof.

Do you still spend all your free time

with revolutionaries form the beginning of the century? - No.

But I still love them.

I sometimes think of them.

I worked so much on their text that I began imagining...

their demarches, their gestures, their states of mind...

It was almost fiction.

- But you finally left them. - Yes.

One day, I was sitting at the terrace of a café.

I was looking at the people passing by.

It was the day after an election.

I stared at every single face for a long time.

2 hours later, my passion for politics and history was gone.

We were born too late.

Earlier, we could have lived with certitudes.

We would have been heroes.

So what are you doing?

We have to tell each other.

What I do?

I sell my body.

And you?

Nothing.

Kind of a hobo. Kind of a thief.

What are you doing?

I couldn't sleep.

Do you remember the star I gave you?

I often look at it.

Me too.

- Are you happy, Dada? - Oh, yes! Yes.

I'm very happy.

You know, I...

I'm still amazed by the park, the trees...

The star in the sky I gave you.

I'm very happy.

It's not very useful but... I'm happy.

It's not true.

I'm not even a real gardener, like my father was.

And I have nobody to tell what he told me.

You could stay, Marie.

We would have many little Charlot, running in the park.

Like we used to do.

It's dumb but...

I love you, Marie.

I love you.

I've been love you since we were kids.

I'm bored here.

These fucking flowers and these trees...

I don't care about them.

I don't care.

I'm crazy, aren't I?

Come on...

Come here.

The lipstick, shadow of her fringed lips,

was drawing a second, concentric mouth.

What are you doing here?

See, there is a illness on the branches.

So I cut a suspect branch and look here.

I check if the vessels are black.

If there are black, they are ill. Like this one.

This vascular mushroom...

is living in the vessels that carry the sap.

A coleoptera, the scolitynae, brings it.

The rise of the sap can't happen anymore.

The branch slowly dies.

Then the trunk.

And the tree dies.

We were lucky to know you. All the kids don't have such a luxurious playground.

The son of the cook and the gardener...

It was nice of the owner to let the kids play here.

It was because they didn't have one.

What is it?

I don't know.

I was thinking of the seasons...

I got scared.

I came back for you.

Let's try to live together.

It's too late.

I'd like to read a letter.

It's addressed to you.

Where am I at today?

I barely know.

I'm having troubles recognizing myself on the edge of evidences.

I'm both the internee... and the witness.

I did not make things easier.

But horrendous things made me simple/

More apt to trust some persons.

Deep inside them subsist tenaciously...

the dying fires of the research for human dignity,

elsewhere already destroyed and forgotten.

Despised.

Negated.

Needless to say many prodigies stop living within me.

Still, I strongly claim my right to declare me prodigious.

I can never be lost enough in my independence, or its illusion,

to have the will to stop loving stubborn, disobedient persons,

who descend to the heart of the pit without minding its verge.

The profanity, when I talk about hope,

is a good I don't possess anymore.

But I like the fact it lives within others.

Nothing banal between us.

I knew and we will know how to meet at the excessive second of essential.

Our particularity is to be undesirable because we refuse to sign the last leaf,

the one of appeasement.

This one either is torn...

or taken away from us.

It's magnificent.

It's very beautiful.

Why don't you try to be published?

I have time.

What I write is...

Like a diary... Dispersed notes.

I prefer to wait.

Wait to be as a good writer as René Char.

What do you mean?

I mean this letter was written by René Char in Breton.

You are crazy.

- I'm not crazy, I'm sure of it. - Shut up, drunkard!

I'm a drunkard and you are a madman that doesn't know who wrote what he reads.

And Dada... Dada would like to marry Charlot. But she works on the street.

We are misfits.

Handicapped. Do you understand?

This fucking regression in this park. I'm fed up with it.

Goodbye. I'm going to have some drinks.

Gitan!

Stop.

Not now.

Let's have a coffee and...

Then we can part.

Wake up!

What will become of us?

Wake up.

Wake up.

What will become of us?

It's doesn't matter.

Everything will be fine.

We will die and we will see each other in 10 years.

Who is crying?

- Stop. - Is this what you're doing?

Let's go now!

With simplicity, this movie is dedicated to those who made it.

For their intelligence and their generosity.

Subtitles: tadanobu@KG