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Hey, Mom! Your book!

William, c'mon,
- Ludo, that's us!

Christmas Kills Me

Madame, the bathroom, please?

I don't know.

FOR SALE

You bastard!

Goddamn winter!

THANKS FOR EVERYTHING

One peep during the interview,

you'll get socks for Christmas. Got it?

She's wife of Minister Pierre Mercier
and sister of Christine C,

who wrote the hit we played,
Thanks for Everything!

Above all, she's the author
of the wonderful blog,

My Life Kills Me.
- Right.

Our guest is Marianne Cyr

who'll fill us in
on her alter ego, Mom on the Run.

She's accompanied by
her two little devils,

whose antics we follow on the blog

under their nicknames,
Destroyer and Kamikaze.

Hi, Marianne.
- Hello.

With a politician husband,
two young kids at home, a blog,

your charity work...
- Yes.

and a third book, Christmas Kills Me...

how do you find time for yourself?

It's simple, I don't.

She has a nanny, cleaning lady,
trainer, husband and therapist...

No wonder she has no time, Christ!

Sorry.

Where was I?

Can I help you?

I know how to count.

Are you the Charlotte Cantin
who's famous?

Cardin? Charlotte Cardin?

Right, Cardin!

No, I'm Christine C.

C?
- It's for Cyr.

Christine Cyr.

Are you an actress?

No, I'm a singer.

I just sang here.

Right. 10, 20, 25...

I am your father!

Sir, please?

Hello?

Why don't you return my calls?

I'll block your number, Bruno.
Stop calling!

I have to see you! I'll die!

What's left to say?

Keep your coat on.

I'm hot!
- I love you.

Is that Dad?
- No, it's not.

Don't touch, it's fragile!

I need to see you.
I just want to talk.

I can't. And it's not a good idea.

One hour, Marianne. Just an hour!

Let time do its work.

I'll die!

No, you won't. People don't die from...

Is there someone else?

Shit, there's someone else.
Who is he?

Of course there is, I'm married.

I have to go.
- No! Just an hour, Marianne. Please!

I can't sleep.
I can't stop thinking about you.

I want to see you.

Wednesday at 10. Half an hour.
It's the last time. OK?

Yes! Our café?

It's not our café, it's a café.
OK, I have to go.

What are you two up to? Seriously!

EVENT ROOM

Hello?
- Élyse Laberge?

Yes, speaking.

Jean-Paul Cyr. I'd like to meet.
I have something to show you...

How much would information
about your ex-husband be worth?

What do you mean?

I know where he is.
I have pictures of him. Lots.

Finally!

Daddy!
- Hey, big boy!

C'mere, sweetie.

Did you have a good day?
- Yes.

I hate Christmas!

Can I make you a drink?
- One drink?

Stop! Stop!

You have to share!

No, not here, please!

Another ten days of
bloody Christmas spirit.

I can't wait for it to be over!

Since you're so cheery,
my older kids asked

if their mom could celebrate Christmas here.

Again?

She's come the last five years.

Your family's welcome.
The boys'd love to see your sister.

You know she's still mad.

It's been a year. Reach out.

After her meltdown at New Year's,
she owes me an apology.

What?

If I'm not mistaken,
I recall you threw a glass of wine...

It was an accident, I tripped.

We miss her CD launch and she reacts like...

like I'd given her cancer.

She and her boyfriend spent
all their savings producing it.

And? It flopped, like I warned.

One of her songs was a hit.

Why doesn't your ex celebrate
with her boyfriend?

`Cause...

he dumped her.

And she's...

probably depressed...
and possibly ready to kill.

Great, let's invite her, too.

Three days at the cottage,
we'll manage.

Hello.
- We're looking for Marianne Cyr.

Marianne?

About your dad, I guess.

Thanks again.
I didn't know who else to call.

I'll drive you home. And tomorrow
we'll get it towed to the scrapyard.

Scrapyard? My car?

But I need it.

Christine, it's 18 years old. I know
it's hard, but it's time to say goodbye.

I have shows all over during the holidays.

What'll I do?

I'll lend you mine.

Why did I ever leave you?

Which time?

The last one.

The long version?

God no!

Need a hand?
- Nah, it's all good.

Aren't the refineries picturesque?
- What were you doing here?

A gig at a car dealership.

Even if you were really, really nice
to help me,

you're not coming in.

We don't have to go in.

We can do it in the car.

I was joking!

Jeez!

Marianne?

Don't you ever answer your phone?

Wonderful seeing you.
A year goes by so fast.

Bye!

No, stop it.

Wait, it's...

What?

Dad's dead.

Dead?

Like, how, dead?
- Like, dead, dead.

How many ways
can you be dead?

Who's dead?

Hi.
- Why hello, Olivier!

So you're still together?

We split up, we got together...

And now...
- No, we're not together.

She called because her car broke down.

So I...
- He gave me a boost.

Same old, same old.

Who died?
- Her dad.

He's your dad too.

He'll never see me weep.

Duh... he's dead!

Look, thanks for the visit,
but we're busy.

No, look. I'm sorry.

I'm stressed out, let's start over.

She's stressed.

Dad's dead.

He died here,

in Québec.
He collapsed in a motel room.

Wasn't he in Panama?

Search me.
- Why a motel room?

You'll have to ask him.

Clear your agenda.
We have work.

The morgue, funeral home, sell his house...

I need it done in 3 days.

I have Christmas to organize.

That's just like him!

He never calls, disappears.
Then bang, without warning...

Thoughtless to croak like that.

Guess I'll be off.

I'll be off, OK?

Yes, it's him.

A lot of scrapes for a guy
who died of a heart attack.

The injuries happened before.
There's no proof they're related.

Should we say something?

Take as much time as you need.

I'm...
- Yeah, me too.

I'm done.
- I think we're good.

Look, his phone.
- What are you doing?

Well...
- Stop, it's his private life.

Private life? He's dead.
- It's still not your business.

I'll look through my half of his stuff,
you do what you want with yours.

Work for you?

OK.

What's that?
- So now you're interested?

No idea. Photos of people we don't know.

You said it'd be quick.
I'm fed up with shelling out.

Think I do this for kicks?
I'm fed up, too.

I haven't started Christmas shopping.
My wife's on my case.

You blew your chance!

He surprised me. What can I say?

You're staking out his place
and he surprises you. Way to go!

Where is the old bastard?

I dunno.

If he talks to my ex, you're screwed too.

You're an accessory. That's jail.

I said I'd look after him and I will.

But I have to find him first.

Goddamn scumbag.

That's him. Yada, yada, yada.

I checked my agenda.

I could make time for a memorial
for Dad on the 27th.

But at the cottage - we'll all be there.

Why a memorial?

I dunno, to...

to honor his...
- His what?

How he never looked after us?
How he made us move five times a year?

How he'd disappear and forget us?
- Christine...

Or visit Mom in palliative care
with his bimbo?

He's our father.

His last call he asked me to write
a hit for the next Céline Dion,

from Latin America.

Do you want his ashes?
- Yuck!

I don't want corpse dust at home.

We'll leave him here.
We can rent him a locker.

Ladies, my sympathies.

How much is a locker?

The rental cost varies.
You have the prices there.

$7000?

$7000 for a locker?

For a niche that's at eye level.

But we have cheaper plans.
It depends on his last wishes.

To return to his birthplace.

I'm not going to the Magdalen Islands!
- I didn't say we would. I'm answering...

A plane ticket's $1000!

Could you show a little decorum?

We should've given his body to science.
His first good deed.

I guess you won't be selecting an urn?

It won't be necessary.

Ladies?

We won't stay long.

A quick check and we hire a broker.

I don't have time for this.

I know.

Your life kills you.

I know you hate me for reasons
that might interest a therapist, but...

Can we focus until this is done?

Right. You have no idea why I'm pissed.

A non-aggression pact?

OK.

Thanks.

Move over!

It's not locked?

Anybody home?

My god! I don't like this!

What happened?

Marianne!

Careful!

I'll call the police.
- No!

We call no one.

Want the cops mucking around?

Yeah, messy with a book tour
and Pierre's campaign,

but that's blood.
- Fine, call the police.

No, hold on.

You have to declare any act of violence
in a house for sale.

Wouldn't you like your half
of the sale price, fast?

OK.

We clean up, sell the place,
split the cash and we're done.

We'll keep it short and sweet.

I'll call'em!

Hello?

Hello?

What's she doing?

Your...

No!

Sorry.

Yes?

No, it's just...

your coat.

It'll get soaked in the slush.

Thanks!
- OK.

Are you the owner?

No, the house belongs to my father.

Are you interested?

Maybe.
- Really?

Can I speak to him?

My father?

No, he's not here now.

But I'm the one selling it.

I can't show it to you now
because we're doing repairs.

I'll give you my number.

So we can talk

before I hire an agent.

Right, good idea!

Because with an agent,

they take a cut and all.

Here.

Thanks.
- Good!

Where's that goddamn scumbag?

I called Olivier.
- And?

He'll fix the door.

What?
- No, nothing.

Tell me.

It's just... you have a weird way
of not being together.

We can be friends
even though we split up.

Answer it.
- No, you.

Hi. Could I speak to Jean-Paul?

He's not available.

Can I take a message?

Could you tell him

that Élyse called?
- Élyse.

I have what he wants.

OK, can you give me your number?

He has it. Thanks.

What a bitch.

I'm going to your house. I love you

Please, no!

Where are you going?

What are they up to?

Pierre?

Hi!

My dad's place is a mess!

The boys here?

They're at the movies with my daughter.
Your colleague's here.

OK.

Hi.

I worried when you didn't come.

You're never late.

An emergency.

Right.

I couldn't reach you so I dropped by.

Your husband
told me about your dad.

My condolences.
- Yeah.

Sorry, I didn't think to call you.

I've been run ragged the last days.

My dad's house and...
- You work together?

Yes.
- No.

I mean, yes, we...

we work together at my publisher's,
but not directly.

He freelances for my publisher.

Her novel.

Her stories.
- That's what he meant.

What do you do?
Not you!

OK.

I'm... a consultant.
- Yeah.

So if I were to call the publisher now
and ask to speak to Bruno,

a secretary will answer,

‟May I take a message?”

Tell him, Marianne.

Shut up!

What?
- Enough lies.

Marianne's the woman of my dreams.
We're madly in love.

Pierre...

It's over, I swear.

We didn't want to hurt you.
It just happened.

It was blind passion!

It wasn't. It's been over for weeks.

OK.

I'll tell the boys you're staying in town
for your dad's funeral.

We'll talk to them after New Year's.

I'll pick them up.
When I come back, I'd like you gone.

And take that with you.

Where'll I go?

You'll figure that out.

Pierre! We have to talk.

My love, I'll look after you.
- Stop!

My roommate's
home for Christmas.

Leave me alone!

Marianne, wait!

What are you doing the 24th?

Why?

We said that if we didn't have plans...

Well, you see, I do have plans.

You do?

Can I come?
I don't have anything...

Is it working?

It'd be complicated.

You have a date.

We're going to her family's.

So it's serious?

It's potentially serious.

Good!

Congratulations.

I didn't know that...

Anyway...

Looks, brains...

I bet she has it all.

Yup.

All of it.

And I bet she wants kids.

Were you with her the night...
- It's been 3 months.

And about that night...

What night?

Thanks.

Three months?

I didn't know how to tell you.

I wouldn't have made a scene.

I know you wouldn't.

It's not your style.

But?

Let's say you tend to find me cuter
when I'm not available.

She's a lucky girl.

I dunno.

You had your chance.
- Yeah, but me...

My specialty's...

running away from anything like
success or happiness.

I'll be going, OK?
- Yeah.

Bye, Marianne.

I'll take Dad's ashes
to the Islands.

Now?

Pierre invited his ex and their kids.

His ex still comes for Christmas?

I can't face her guzzling all our booze
and insinuating I wrecked her family.

I'd rather deliver
a dead guy's ashes.

Are you showing the house
or serving drinks?

Christ.

What?

What is it?

How much is that?
- Quite a lot.

Don't touch it!

We can't keep it, it's dirty money.

It's the first gift JP ever gave us.

You're gonna spend it $20 at a time?

Well...
- No!

You deposit that, the bank gets nosy.

I have $68.97 in the bank.

I have a cavity.

I still owe tons of money
for producing my CD.

While madame's sunning in Martinique
with her perfect family,

me...

I'll be singing at the curling club
New Year's party in L'Assomption!

So to answer, yeah,
I'll keep that money.

Lock up when you go.

Wait!

I'll come with you.

You hate his guts.

If I sing White fucking Christmas
at another party,

I'll slit my wrists.

Can we stop at my place...

...to get clean undies,

a toothbrush...

OK.

Wait up!

What now?

They're leaving with some of his things.

Where to?
- I dunno.

They didn't call to say, ‟Hey, Réjean.

We're going bowling and then visit Dad.”

They didn't say.

Look, Réjean. Don't act smart.

There they are. One's in her car.

The other's carrying two bags,

a guitar...
- Why a guitar?

What guitar?

I don't know what guitar. A mini-guitar...

A guitar.

A kind of ukulele. A guitar.

A ukelele? Why's she taking that?
- Look...

I'm not a big music fan.

OK.

Pop the trunk!

Well, tail them,
and don't let them out of your sight.

Here we go.

Oh, sweetheart!

Who are those people?

I dunno, friends of Dad.

Come on.

It's rare you photograph friends with...
What's it called?

A zoom.

A zoom's for pictures from far away,
in secret.

Like paparazzi.

Who knows? Maybe they're stars there.

Think they're tied
to Dad's break-in?

I'm going to scatter his ashes.

Play detective without me.

What?

Careful!

Sorry.
- Jeez!

Must you?

The radio?
- My head aches.

Fine!

One more thing.

What are you doing?

It's freezing!

Please close it. C'mon!

Your car's as hot as an old-age home.

Take off your coat.

Really?

I must say,

I sure missed our easy intimacy.

I guess you...

You guess I what?

You don't want to share.
I can't hear you.

Hello!

Cut it out.

East, along the river, I guess.

Does he have a house there?

How should I know?

He's blackmailing me,
not a golf buddy.

Find him or we're screwed.

Listen, dammit.

I'm not Colombo!

I know you're not Colombo.

He didn't have a mustache.
- I know he didn't.

That's not what I mean.

A hot chicken sandwich for me.

And I'm torn between fries

and your cheesecake.

No, fries.

Please.

Your face is familiar.

Could be...

Thanks for Everything?

Yup.

I knew it was you.

That song was my story.

Nice, being friends with a star.

No, she's my sister.

You must be so proud!

It gets intense.

I bet!

I guess you'll have a new CD soon.

It's been a while.

No, my album came out just last year, so...

Yeah. Eight songs in a year!

Lucky you're not paid by the hour.

Don't overdo it.

God!

There.

Thanks.

We gotta go!

What's wrong?

Move it!

My hot chicken!

I'm starving!

C'mon!

She OK?
- Sorry, Miss. We have to go.

She's a bundle of nerves.

See you.
- Bye!

The door's not open.

Are they dummies or what?

On the road again!

How much money do you think it is?

I don't know, and I don't want to.

What?
- I have enough problems without JP's.

You're a ray of sunshine.
- How come?

We can't listen to radio
or open the window.

We can't look at photos or talk.

Or know what's wrong.
- I'm sorry.

It's just that...

I saw someone back there.

At the gas station?
- Yeah.

Who?

Someone I didn't want to see.

C'mon! Is it someone you work with?

Is it a man, a woman?

No.

Not very good.

The window!

Got a napkin?

Use your coat.

I could've had an accident!

Are you crazy?

Careful, the car's worth a fortune.

Think you're funny?

Yes!

Is it someone who trolls you on your blog?

A guy who works for the mafia?

Which side?

A political enemy of Pierre's
who has state secrets on tourism?

I'll take this side.

What's wrong?

Dirty sheets. I can't sleep here.

Don't be a princess!

I'm not sleeping
in some stranger's pubes.

Too gross!

Excuse me?

Can I help you?

No.

Bye.

What's going on?

I'd respectfully ask you to screw off,
if you don't mind.

Wait, are you a friend of Marianne's?

Who are you again?

My name's not important.

You neither. So beat it!

It's not your car.
- Is it yours?

No, but...
- Exactly.

Beat it.
- OK.

I'll have to call the police.

I'll smash your pretty face.

Jesus Christ!

What is this bullshit?

What the...?

Sir?

You OK?

My god!

What happened?
- OK.

Don't freak out,
but that guy I saw before...

He's here, so we're leaving.

Marianne, who is he?

Pack up.
- Sure it's the same guy?

No, I just feel like chatting.

Fine, but you owe me an explanation.

In the car!

Did you talk to him?
- He has a gun!

Shit!

911 Shediac, how may I help you?

Hello, I'm at the Shediac Motel.

An armed man is after me.

He's in a car-share and he has curly hair.
Come quick!

Hurry!

Too much?

Who are you?
- What?

It has to sound like an emergency.

Hello.

On the ground!

Hands behind your head!

Don't move!
- I'm not resisting!

Thanks.

Want some music?

Yeah.

This alright?

I always hated that song.
- OK.

No problem.

That's good.

You always loved soppy songs.

It's a huge hit.
- Yeah, sure.

Don't!

My kids can't see me smoke.

I found a house for rent.

In Hâvre-aux-Maisons...

Two bedrooms, bathrooms...
- Book it.

There's another in...
- Book it!

Two bedrooms,
- I don't care, book anything.

I need your credit card.

Not cheap for an Airbnb.
- So what? We have a fortune in the trunk.

If you want a fight,
call Pierre and fight with him.

The guy is someone...

I had an adventure with.

An adventure?

You?
- What?

Can't I be fucked up, too -
with our loser parents?

You don't always acknowledge your roots.

I thought you guys were good.
From your blog...

We are good.

Pierre's perfect, our life's perfect.

I'm the problem. I'm never satisfied.

Who's the guy?

A waiter in a café where I write.

It's fine, go for it.

I'm my own harshest critic.

I'm in no position to judge you.

Olivier has a girlfriend.

A girlfriend?

Yup.

OK...

So when he was there it was just...

Like I said...
- Yeah.

I'm in no position to judge.

Has it lasted long?

No.

No, it wasn't long, or very often.

Four months.

Maybe five. Well, seven.

Including four trying to end it.

OK.

Sometimes I hear myself
blogging about crap like

how well-folded laundry soothes the soul.

I want to stab myself
just to feel something.

What are you doing?

You see?

You can feel something.

Good news!

Jeez!

Stub it out.

How old are you?

After New Year's,

I wanted to call, but I just didn't.

Yeah.

I guess that was easier.

You?

What do you mean?

You never thought to call?

What for?

I dunno, to apologize for behaving
like a spoiled brat

and ruining the party for everyone.

Well, for everything that night.

Except maybe

for when you told off Pierre's ex.

That was my best Christmas present ever.

In fact, yes, I thought of calling.

Since you didn't come to my launch,

I thought we were even.

I have a life, you know.

We know.
- You're not the prom queen.

Why'd you invest everything in your CD,

just to indulge your whims?

Why not line up a producer?

Everyone I spoke to wanted to put

glitter on my music.

They wanted me to change my hair,
my clothes...

fire Olivier,

hype myself on talk shows...

host radio contests...
Everything I'm not.

At least I did it my way.
- And went broke.

So?

Happiness and success aren't all bad.

You should try it.

You're right, Marianne.

Tell me how happy you are right now.

You don't read my blog.

I do too.
- You don't.

I do.

I see the pictures of you
busy being beautiful

in great places with your kids
and powerful hubby.

You'd react to what I wrote about you.

I had nothing to add.

I never mentioned you.

Bravo, you got me!

I don't always read it.

You never do!

What can I say? I don't know that woman.

I don't recognize you.

Seriously, try as I might,

I don't get what kills you
about your life.

Besides boredom.

Next time you need a bad guy
for a song,

don't use me.

OK?
- What?

Your goddamn hit's about me,
don't pretend.

‟I lived with a heart of stone,
a prisoner to your grey zone.”

Stop the car.

We're almost there.
- Stop, let me out.

Are you crazy?

Stop the fucking car!

What are you doing?

Christine!

Élyse Laberge Divorces
8 Years After Sauvageau Disappears

The car keys. Gimme `em!

Why?
- Gimme the keys!

Take it easy!

It's the same guy.

He's older, but that's him, right?
- Yeah.

Ok, here, listen.

"After pleading guilty
to a $107-million Ponzi scheme

and defrauding his clients,
friends, and family,

Guy Sauvageau had dropped off the radar.

His wife, Élyse Laberge,
was seen as guilty by association,

and tried to make a new life.”

So it seems

Sauvageau flew the coop,

leaving his wife with the mess.

The cops are still
searching for him.

Did Dad spot him in Panama?

He struck gold by blackmailing him.

The money in his freezer.

Wait!

He was outside Dad's yesterday.

No!
- I swear!

You're sure?
- Absolutely sure!

I told him his coat was stuck
in his car door.

He asked me about the house,
he was interested.

I gave him my number.

Dad's screwing us over even now.

Marianne!
- What?

Her name is Élyse!

Who?

Sauvageau's wife, Élyse Laberge.

Yeah, we read it. So?

The name on the envelope.

Sir...
- Yes?

I'd like a coffee, please. Very, very strong.
- OK.

A scotch.

What? It's the holidays.

Your coffee.
- Thanks.

Spending Christmas with your family?

We don't have family here,
but our parents were born in Gros Cap.

I thought so! You're the girls of Jean-Paul,
of Joseph, of Xavier.

Right.

I thought I recognized that smile!

Your mom's smile.

My wife went to school with her.

Really?
- You bet! Normand Langford.

A pal of your parents.
- Christine.

How is your mom?
- Died of cancer 21 years ago.

Real sorry to hear that.

Anita was a good soul.

What's news of Jean-Paul?
- News is, he died, too. 3 days ago.

To Jean-Paul,

whose middle name was Trouble.

To Jean-Paul.
- Jean-Paul.

Back in the day,
there were three kinds of islanders.

Those he'd borrowed money from.

Those he'd borrowed girlfriends from.

And the third and most dangerous...

his ex-girlfriends!

That pretty much sums it up.

His favorite game was

to welcome every rookie policeman
to the Magdalen Islands.

Invite him on his boat for a beer.

Three hours later,

the cop is drunk as a skunk.

Next day, the cop wakes up
on Entrée Island,

hung over, no money, no map, nothing...
And no idea where he is.

JP calls the station to pick the guy up.

What a Jean-Paul!

Thanks.

Think I'd let JP's girls pay? Never!

Put that away.
- Thank you.

To Jean-Paul.

From: Pierre
Subject: Divorce. Call my lawyer.

What's wrong?

You OK?

Look.

We scatter Jean-Paul here, now, in the Gulf.

Out to sea, just like he was.

We'll head back tomorrow.

You'll go home.
You'll work it out with Pierre.

I don't know.

You can't do it from here.

I'll come with you.
I'll stay in the car, in case.

I'll get Dad.
- OK.

Thanks so much. It's this one here.

Very kind.

That's not his ashes.
- It's him!

He's on board!
- Who?

The guy, he's here!
- Calm down.

I am calm!

I'm calm.

Which guy? Where?

In my trunk!

What do you mean?
- I mean

there's a guy in my trunk!

Which guy, your lover?

No, not him, the guy!

How many guys are after you?

The guy who was outside Dad's!

He's in my trunk!

How many scotches did you have?

If you don't believe me, go look!

This is crazy.

Who put him there?

How do I know?

We gotta get rid of him.

Good thinking, Sherlock!

It's the best I can come up with.

Dump a 200-lb guy overboard
without being seen?

Sorry, I'm brainstorming!

We'll call the police.

And say what?

We want the creep arrested
for breaking into my trunk?

It's true!
- It'll look bad for Pierre.

He's running again.

Let's go!

My darling.

Hello?

Where are you?

I dunno.

What do you mean?

I should be at my in-laws'
making Christmas pudding.

My wife'll have my head.

Who cares about your pudding?

Where's that bastard?

You come find him
if you're not happy.

I'm warning you,
this'll cost you bigtime.

You hear?

Darnit!

He'd better stop hounding me.

We've done nothing wrong.
That's easy to prove.

And the half-mill you're carrying?

Was he alive?

I think so.

What's good about it?

Less jail time for kidnapping
than murder.

You two are hiding something!

It didn't occur to me.

I told my wife I'd served
JP and Anita's girls.

She tells me her girl sings
Thanks for Everything!

That's me.
- It's her.

My daughter sang it all summer,
wall-to-wall.

I hear you. Sorry.

Here's my number.
- Oh, thanks!

My wife would love
if you dropped by.

Why not?
- Sure, we can do that.

Since we're here.

Dammit!

I often helped JP out
by flying him on his errands.

A real entrepreneur,

your dad...

Lemme outta the goddamn car!

Look.

Should I call him?

Yeah.

Yeah, call him.

Hello?

Come open your trunk.

Where are you taking me?

We didn't know you were there.

Ask his name? What's he doing?

Why are you there?

Lemme out, I'll tell you.

Sir, we can't get to the car
during the crossing.

We'll reach Cap-aux-Meules
in two hours.

Jesus holy Christ!

The goddamn Magdalen Islands!

OK.

We can do one of two things.

You get me out of here.

Or I call the police.

And you explain why I'm here.

He'll call the cops!
- He's bluffing!

Yeah?
- He'd have called already.

He can't.
- He sounds serious.

Let me.

Sir? If you call, we'll show them
the pictures of you and Sauvageau.

Say we'll let him out on shore.

We don't want trouble.
We'll let you out on shore.

They'll get the pictures
if anything happens to us.

Want a scotch?

Goddamn shitty Christmas to hell.

Goddamn fucking Christmas!

Sir, the woman of my dreams is in danger.

And you say that this woman

is the wife of the environment minister.
- No, tourism.

Tourism?
- Right.

Who you're tailing, to propose to her.

Yes!

She's...

the woman of my dreams.

Does the minister's wife know

she's your dream woman?
- Sir!

There's an armed man in her trunk.

I know, I put him there.

You want us to save her from
an armed man you locked in her trunk

and whose weapon you had.

Said that way, it sounds nuts, I know.

The guy you put in
the minister's wife's car...

Who is he?

I thought it was her lover.

But...

I dunno.

I've the right to one call?

Loosen up.

You look like
you're smuggling coke.

I'm not used to transporting bodies.

This is no time for laughing.

I'm not laughing.

Sir?

As soon as we're off the ferry,
we'll find a quiet spot to let you out.

Quit laughing!

I'm sorry!

Is he coming over here?

Hello.
- Hello.

We got a call from the RCMP
about a stowaway.

I need to check your trunk.

Marianne Cyr,
Minister Mercier's wife.

My sister and I are here
to scatter our father's ashes.

There's no one else in the car.

Please park next to my cruiser.

Alright.
- Thank you.

Let me talk.

What'll you say?
- No idea.

Sorry for the inconvenience.

Procedure requires us to check.

Welcome to the Islands, happy holidays,
and my sympathies.

Very kind.

Marianne, were you hallucinating?
- I'm not crazy, he was there.

He was here, I swear!

Oh no!

Shit!
- What's wrong?

He took the cash!

That's your only worry,

the money?
- We've no choice.

We call the cops.

And say what?
- The truth.

Yeah? And what truth, exactly?

We drove here to scatter Dad's ashes,

and on the way we discovered
a man in your trunk.

A stranger

who was bleeding...

who took off with the fortune
we found in Dad's fridge.

You're right, it won't fly.

We tell them the truth,
but leave out some things.

We call the cops because he threatened us.

We said nothing to the crew

or the cop just now.

But suddenly,

we remember. Is that it?

Damn, crime is so complicated.

Yes!

Shit.

What's wrong?

The ferry's every two days.

We weren't introduced.

I'll break her arm,
put down the tchotchke!

Put the bird down! Put it down!

What do you want?

We want our money back.

Don't antagonize the criminal, please.

I hate to be grossly materialistic,
but I'm broke.

Let's not worry about our finances now.

I'm fed up with your stinking condescension!

What?

But when your husband keeps you,

and work's a hobby...
- Pierre supports the family!

Sorry to intrude on your tête-à-tête.

When does JP arrive?

I gotta see him, now!

Jean-Paul Cyr?

Christ, where is he?
- He's dead.

Dead? How's he dead?

I saw him last week.

Lots happens in a week.

You fucking with me?

This is him! He's in here!

Goddamn.

Goddammit to hell, shit!

For a week I've chased a dead man?

Look at the bright side.

The chase is over.

But I won't get paid.

The loot you stole from us
will console you.

And you won't get nailed with a murder rap.

We can split the money.

As accomplices, we'll shut up.

Really, Christine?

We're here to scatter Dad's ashes,
not get involved.

Except you've seen me,
you have the photos.

We have a PR problem.

You'll never hear from us again!

That's what your dad said,
but then he'd want more.

You don't know us.

Our family specialty is keeping silent.
We haven't spoken in a year.

Especially if it's important.

We're gonna take a little stroll
on the cliffs.

Move.

Don't make me pull out my gun.

Move. Out.

You're hurting me!

I know where our dad stashed more money.

We could split it.
- Cut the bullshit. Move!

Don't hurt her!

Stay where I can see you.

Marianne...

It's true I was horrible at Christmas.

It's the holidays.

I get unbearable.

No, I should apologize.

I know how much your launch meant to you.

You're so busy.
I'm an adult, I should've let it go.

Quit gabbing!
You're busting my balls. Let's go!

Who is it?

Answer!

It's my husband. Can I?

Think I'm stupid?

We had a fight.

I can't end like this.

It's Christmas!
- I know it's Christmas!

Please, my husband!

Move it!

One minute!

Let a mother say goodbye
to the father of her children?

No, move!

Don't you have a family?

I can't believe we're going to die with JP.

I love you, Marianne!
- I love you, too!

Don't jump, Christine! Run!

I won't let him kill you.

Hey, big mouth.

I'll let you jump first, happy now?

You pack a punch.

Me? I wasn't aiming for his head.

He doesn't look good.

Check his pulse.

Why me?

You're good at things. Go on!

Is he dead?

I dunno.

What now?

Oh my god!

What?

His name's Sauvageau.
- Like the other guy.

Where you going?

Hey?
- I'll be back!

To get his truck.

Careful with him.

He's not helping.

Go!

OK, that's it!

Hold on!

Do you have to answer?

It's Pierre.

Hello?

Are you OK?

Where are you?

I'm on the Islands with my sis.
- The Islands?

We came to scatter Dad's ashes.

Pierre?

Could we just talk?

Marianne, I got a call from the RCMP.

Oh no!

Your boyfriend...

He was given one call.

He called me.

Imagine my joy.

What did he want?

He made no sense.

He was raving
you're being chased by a criminal

who he put in your car.

He wasn't with me.

Marianne, should I be worried?

No.

It's under control.

OK.

So you're both alright?

Yeah, we'll catch

the first ferry and drive back.

But could you and I

just maybe...

I dunno, talk, Pierre?

The boys want to say hello.

Here they are.

It's Mom.

Mom!

Hi, sweetheart!

We got your present,
but it's a secret.

We saw Santa Claus,
and when I sat on his lap,

he farted!

Yeah, I heard it!

When will you come home?

Soon.

I miss you!

Me too, lots.

I miss you lots, too.

Bye!

I love you.

Bye, guys.

It's OK.

What do we do with him?

C'mon, I have an idea.

Yes! The money's here!

What the hell?

Where am I?

Entrée Island.

Goddamn it to hell!

Provincial Police.

You're your dad's girls.

That thug will remember
his visit to the Islands!

It's JP.

What's JP?

My song.

It's about JP.

Alright, girls?

My love?

My love, come here!

The Good Fairies wish you
Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, you bastard.

Do we do it here?

Sure, might as well.

What do I do?

Open the box and throw?

We could say a few words.
- OK.

JP...

Jean-Paul?

Dad, maybe?

Your call.

Bye.

No hard feelings!

OK, seriously...

Thank you.

You do it.

Well...

Strictly in terms of biology,
he did give us life.

Given our upbringing,
we're lucky we weren't both committed.

OK, a tribute before my fingers freeze.
- Yes!

JP.

Dad.

Thanks for genes
that can make life bumpy.

Thanks for having brought us together.

Thanks for everything.

Are you alright?

It's everywhere!
- Dad's in my eyes!

Look.

What?
- Is Dad in my eyes?

He just won't let go of us.

Subtitles: Robert Gray, Kinograph