Original subtitles

No, tomorrow's better.

I don't know.

No, I don't want to.

Not tonight, please.

Yes, I'm here.

He's crying. So? He's just crying.

Don't start pissing me off.

Shut up!

Mummy...

Good night, kitten.

We're here.

Yes, mummy's here too.

C�cile...

Have you changed since the accident?

You've been wearing that for five days.

You haven't washed either, have you?

Don't hassle me, please.

It's disgusting. You can't stay like this.

What?

Get changed.

Get changed now, please.

I'll run you a bath, okay?

It's okay, I'll do it. You have to go now.

I'll put Lucas's dirty things in the machine.

What's this?

How long has this been in there?

They're Thierry's shirts.

What do we do with them?

I reckon they're ruined.

Put them in the bin when you leave, please.

That's four francs fifty.

Sorry, four francs fifty.

Can I have a word, Mrs Cassard?

- Not now. - Just five minutes.

I'll see you in the play room.

Stay here, Lucas. I'll be back with your mum.

- If you need me, Mrs Cassard... - Come on, love.

You really should talk to him.

We won't be seeing your daddy again.

Mummy...

Mummy!

Now the head, leading the movement...

Swing those arms. And off we go!

Take a breath!

Funny...

Swimsuit...

Just like that.

Natacha, look at yourself!

You're there in the middle doing nothing! Honestly!

Dance is fun. Fun to do and fun to see.

Off we go again!

Let's go!

That's good Anne-Claire.

Back.

To the side. Your hips, Lise, your hips!

Ready to see to us now?.

Oh, come on...

Mind your head...

Come on, sausage.

- The bunny. - What bunny?

Who's this bunny?

Where's he from?

He mustn't eat me! All those crazy girls...

the trouble they put me to.

I'm going to eat the bunny.

I'm going to eat him.

And this other little bunny, I'll eat him up too.

Open your boot.

Open your boot, please.

Just a second.

- What are you going to see? - No idea.

You'll be eating in Tours?

I don't know.

Promise to go and see a movie. There's no sense in staying in.

I'm going but I don't know what I'll see.

You can sleep at my place if you want.

That's stupid. I'd only wake you.

Say goodbye to mummy?

Mummy...

We're going now, C�cile. It's better for him.

I want mummy!

- Drive safely. - Don't worry.

You promise?

Off you go.

Sure you'll be okay?

I feel no love and I don't speak.

Just something flickering in my mind,

flickering for you, Lucas.

It says I feel no love and I don't speak.

It says there'll be nothing more, that our life's over now.

I couldn't get the end right.

I'm dead for my son.

I'm dead. I'm far away.

I'm dead for you.

Why do you stay in my mind, Lucas?

It's not the right place for you. Not the right place.

My mind houses the dead.

Children aren't meant to move in with the dead.

Your place is far away, in a new world.

I don't want to think.

I've nothing more to give you, see? It's all gone.

Cut it out!

Can we see you home?

I'm not going far.

It's safer.

Weird people about...

Not that we've had enough but how far's ''not far''?

I'm not going far.

Are you a local?

She's from Paris.

No, from Tours.

Up in the mountains?

No, on the Loire.

I'm useless at geography anyhow.

- Cigarette? - No thanks.

Going to some friends?

You're not a cop!

- I'm just interested. - It's okay.

You see.

- Where are we going? - I'm going to my hotel.

- To meet some friends? - No.

- No husband? - How about you?

- No girlfriends? - He has one.

What's that?

Most girls our age have teeth braces.

And they're aggressive.

They'd stone us if we talked to them like this.

''The dog handler pushes Vasag into a dark corner,

crams himself in,

pulls out of his ass, turns him over,

his slimy cock rolling against Vasag's hip.

The trade pants, the dog-handler paddles in piss,

grunts, pinching the trade's nipples...''

Erwann...

A quick nap and I'll be fine.

Too bad. It was fun.

Some other evening?

- Sorry, I didn't mean to... - I wasn't hiding.

I'm practicing.

I like it.

I haven't cried since I was little. I can't do it.

Not when I should in any case.

But in front of a mirror,

I can feel really sorry.

Do you cry easily?

Asshole.

You'll wake everyone up.

Do you need another room?

It's okay. I'm not sleepy.

What are you in Toulouse for? Business?

What then?

Nothing, actually. Nothing at all.

Are you staying much longer?

No. I'm going to move here.

To this hotel?

I'll look for a place.

Do you know people here?

Have you left your husband?

I noticed your wedding ring.

My husband's dead.

It's weird, moving to Toulouse.

I just want to get away. I can't stand it.

It's small, there's not a lot to do.

It's a cold city too.

It doesn't look that way

but people here are petty. They soon judge you.

I'm sick of their accent.

I'm from Rennes.

I don't want to go back but it's no worse.

They're all the same:

Rennes, Toulouse, Montpellier,

all with the same stores everywhere.

Orange lighting at night,

renovated facades,

so-called student towns...

All the same. Rotten and reeking of cancer.

Sorry, I was upset. It's not your fault.

Don't apologize.

You're on your own, then?

On my own like a big girl.

Where do you want to go?

What?

You were saying you wanted to leave.

I don't even know.

Where can you go these days?

You can go places you couldn't go before.

You could go to China, say.

Or Russia.

You can go anywhere now.

Even Iran?

Africa...

Sudan.

Mozambique.

Congo.

Angola, Niger, Chad...

I have a friend in Chad.

Maybe Chad's a good idea.

Yeah, Chad must be nice.

Do you like to dance?

It's like tears. I can't do it in real life

but when I dance all alone, I can.

I specialize in ballroom dancing. Honestly.

This is a paso doble.

I won't put music on, it's late.

See what the paso's like?

The paso's simple. It's easy to learn.

If I can do it, you can.

Are you scared?

We won't even touch. I can only dance alone.

Know what this is?

Guess.

Come on, it's easy.

I shut the door.

Let's go.

- You don't need us? - You've done enough.

- I can stay... - Mathieu will take you back.

Let's see...

It's me.

You have nothing to say?

We're not going to cry.

I don't know. Tell me something.

You and Lucas, quick.

We're not going to talk about me.

Do you understand?

Is he with you?

Can I hear him?

Close your eyes. And close the shutters.

What's going on?

Keep your eyes closed, okay.

Open them and I'll kill you.

Now.

- What's that? - It's Christmas.

- Not for another month! - I wanted to be first.

What's this?

Three matches, three wishes.

- Strike them. - Now?.

Go on, do it quickly.

I don't have any wishes.

Give it here. You're no fun.

Too bad for you, I'll do it for you.

First wish...

Agree to be happy.

Second wish...

Forget...

that my husband...

is dead.

That's enough. Give me that!

Hand it over. It's not funny.

I'm not trying to be funny.

It's for your good.

I never asked you.

Forget he's dead so you can tell me about him.

Don't think of the dead as dead, simply as people.

I don't only think about the dead.

Antoine, 19, my cousin.

Dead.

Maxime, 41, my father.

Dead.

Julien, 32, a friend.

Dead.

I'd like you to go now, Mathieu, please.

The land lies beneath dark skies

In the coming night so deep

Quickly close your little eyes

Sleep, my sweet child, sleep

As yet another old day dies

I pray you'll never weep

Or your bosom heave weary sighs

Sleep, my sweet child, sleep

- You forgot the water. - I'll get it.

Sorry, where's the cemetery?

- It depends which one. - There's more than one?

The nearest one's just over the bridge.

That bridge?

You can go via St Pierre too.

I think there are three others.

Turn left after the bridge and it's straight on.

I'll get your water.

Excuse me,

which way's the cemetery?

Sorry, I thought you...

Which one do you want?

Isn't there one nearby?

Probably. There are plenty of cemeteries in Toulouse.

All right, I'll ask.

You're in a hurry.

They can wait, you know.

''Straight on, then first on the right,

then second on the right

and in a blink you'll find Do Arreiro Square.

Me? I'll stay here a while longer.

I'll clean the ashtrays, wash the glasses,

tidy up the living room,

watch the river...''

You have to strip to the waist. It summons the sun.

Wanting it is what counts.

Wanting something at any cost.

For instance, if you want happiness.

Wanting happiness means already being happy.

You don't want anything.

Going to fetch it?

I'm not coming for you. Look at this.

- We can run. - We're not going to melt!

Last one there's a fairy!

C�cile, wait!

The women-carrier's race!

There's even a championship.

I know, I'm the fairy!

Male or female?

Female.

French?

Dead?

Famous?

An artist?

A writer?

Died before the war?

Fuck... I don't know...

A French writer

who died before the war?

Colette died after it, didn't she?

A lesbian?

You're sure it's not Colette?

I've forgotten who.

You're a pain in the neck.

You're useless at this.

It's a stupid game anyway.

I may as well tell you the news.

St�phane and I are moving to Paris.

Great timing, Mathieu.

- What d'you mean? - When?

At the end of the month.

St�phane has to go back there.

His job's too good to give up.

I'll get to know Paris and his friends.

You'll drop everything?

What will I lose? Nothing.

The hotel, a thesis I'll never write. It's two months

since I paid any rent so let them keep my deposit.

It's all planned out, then?

We've been thinking.

You could have told us sooner.

Nothing to say, C�cile?

Something wrong?

Why do you say that?

You haven't said anything.

Why are you leaving?

Can't we talk about it later?

When? At the end of the month, after you leave Toulouse?

When did you plan to talk about it? Tell me.

Nothing to say?

Why are you leaving?

Because I believe in this, that's all.

I want a relationship.

I want to count for someone, really count.

I'm not scared, that's the reason.

I think he's the love of my life.

I truly believe that.

We'll still be together 20 years from now.

What the fuck's she doing?

Where're you going?

You can only live in a couple?

Look, C�cile, I'm not like you.

How do you mean?

Never needing anyone, going months without sex.

That's different.

No, it isn't. I'm not made for unhappiness.

I'm not unhappy. No sex doesn't mean you're unhappy.

I didn't say that.

Will you be happy being kept?

You think I give a shit?

You don't give a shit about anything. Only your pleasures count!

You're lecturing me about the way to treat others?

- Are you? - Cut it out.

- Cut it out. - Are you?

Piss off!

Mathieu!

Stupid bitch!

I love you!

Piss off!

Okay?

It's all right now.

- Are you okay? - Yes, it's just nerves.

That jerk scared me.

- I bet I look at total fool. - Not at all.

Hold this for me.

You'll have a lovely bruise.

I'm sick of this.

l want to go away on holiday. l want to see the sun.

Don't you want to see it?

To summon the sun, strip to the waist.

Wanting happiness means already being happy.

Who told you that?

A local guy. He was Portuguese.

The one from the bridge?

Tiago?

Tiago's right.

Excuse me, have you seen Tiago?

Tiago, time to go!

Hold on...

I think he's over there.

He really is. Come on.

He's over there.

Come on.

Are you okay?

Cut it out.

Mathieu...

lf I was born in Rome or Spain, would I have had more lovers?

How many?

Would I have married?

And would I still be alive now?

Before work, I put a rose on the Toulouse grave.

I chose the grave at random

the first time I went to the cemetery.

Not totally at random. I wanted one near a tree.

The name on it is Claude,

Claude Puig,

1944-1985.

I could have looked for a Thierry

or someone born the same year.

No, just random.

I go nearly every week.

A yellow rose each time.

Claude's widow must be intrigued.

She probably thinks he had a mistress.

I imagined being born elsewhere this morning,

by the grave.

I don't know where Claude was born.

The stone just gives the date. Just the year in fact.

It's stupid not to put the birthplace on graves.

It would make a difference.

C�cile Cassard, born in 1967, in Nantes.

Even that's not enough.

An epitaph. No one has epitaphs anymore.

Thierry... - my husband, remember? -

Thierry had a book by Sarraute, no, Yourcenar

of Roman epitaphs. He read some to me.

I didn't like it.

I don't know what his stone reads.

''Forever a virgin, summoned by the Gods before my wedding.''

I liked that one.

Would I like it on my grave?

''Forever a virgin, summoned by the Gods before my wedding.''

Wake up.

I wouldn't have had more lovers.

One man is enough for me.

Or maybe lovers, not men I love.

Why don't you write?

Why don't you call?

Let's sleep.

I need you so much...

You call that sleeping?

What's this little beastie climbing up and up?

What's this little beastie climbing up in my hair?

A little flea?

Is it a little flea?

Get to sleep now, honeybunch.

Get to sleep now. You're tired.

Sleep.

The land lies beneath dark skies

In the coming night so deep

Quickly close your little eyes

Sleep, my sweet child, sleep

As yet another old day dies

I pray you'll never weep

Or your bosom heave weary sighs

Sleep, my sweet child, sleep

Sleep by your mother this night

May your dreams be oh so sweet

And in the morning, in the light

You'll run again, swift and fleet

The land lies beneath dark skies

In the coming night so deep

Quickly close your little eyes

Sleep, my sweet child, sleep

Love's not good with me.

I'm not programmed for it.

I'm just good for...

I don't know what for.

I recently counted the things I can do.

Things I can really do.

There were 24.

Can you believe it?

I'm almost 30 and I can only do 24 things.

And that's counting

dancing the paso doble

and making b�chamel sauce.

In those 24 things, did you count having a child?

No, I don't know if I could.

Oh, come on, Mathieu.

Why? You want me to give you a child?

Let's have a swim.

Are you serious about a baby?

Answer me.

You're pregnant?

Who's the father?

Who is the guy?

How did you meet?

You never told me?

I'm not pregnant, Mathieu.

There's nothing to cut.

There's a tuft there.

A tuft? Call that a tuft?

Here I am, it's me, Lola

She always laughs She says love is beautiful

She pleases without joking She takes without giving

Tributes and homage Bravos from brave lads

The cheers and propositions

She laughs at it all Pleasing a man is enough for her

Here I am, it's me, Lola

She says: here's a ship The sailors are in

We'll stroll and dance And flirt away

We'll laugh and spin but...

When she decides enough is enough Behave and leave it at that

Here I am, it's me, Lola

She makes promises And smiles when you turn

Lost in her thoughts Of hope, if only you knew

Full of outrageous hope

She'll only open her arms To the right man

In a thousand, a hundred or three

And to him she'll say

You, you, you

Here I am

It's me, Lola

- Charge! - Cut it out!

Grab him!

Don't touch my hair!

- I'm serious. - So are we.

I'm dead serious!

Don't touch my hair!

My landlord's offered to sell me the apartment.

- Will you accept? - I'm tempted.

Refuse.

You can't spend your life here. Don't bury yourself away.

I like it here.

I won't let my child grow up in Toulouse.

We'll go abroad,

to Africa.

My son will grow up in Africa.

And it'll be a son, okay.

We'll have a house

with grounds

and tall trees

that my son will climb.

And even if I'm scared he'll fall, I'll say nothing.

I'll tell him to go higher

and he won't fall.

You see, I've considered your proposal.

I proposed nothing.

Really, it's an excellent idea.

Shut up, please. Shut up!

When I came here, I left a child behind.

My child.

He was three, Thierry was dead, I thought I'd never make it,

that my life was over.

I was a menace to him.

I was so scared.

I drove all night and ended up here.

I had to get away from him.

He's about to start school.

Don't cry, it's not sad.

I swear it's not a sad story.

I love everything in my life, even the worst.

You'll see, we'll be happy together.

I promise, once you're ready, I'll give you a child.