All language subtitles for Le Tigre et le pr+®sident (2022).Retail

This film is based on actual events.

Apart from those we had to imagine

so the story would remain believable.

Night of May 23-24, 1920
Somewhere in France

Good evening, sir.

Good evening.

Paul Deschanel.
President of the Republic.

Nice to meet you.

Etienne Radeau.
Queen of England.

That's funny, dear sir.

But, pardon me,
I truly am the President of the Republic.

And I'm the Queen of England.

Shall I take you to the castle?

History is merciless.

It often retains but a withering memory

of the most poetic events

and the most subtle minds.

For on this early morning,
if Etienne Radeau,

the crossing-keeper driving his handcar,

was not the Queen of England,

Paul Deschanel was in fact

the Head of State.

Falling off that train
in the middle of nowhere,

President Deschanel
unwittingly guaranteed

he would leave behind
a poor image of himself.

THE PRESIDENT HAS GONE MISSING!

In Paris, the news
of the President's disappearance

has spread like wildfire.

What happened
on the presidential train?

Upon arrival in Montbrison,
the President's compartment was empty.

The Capital was beside itself
with sheer panic!

Georges Clemenceau
must've been delighted!

Once again,
France is depending on him to save her.

The Tiger will seize this opportunity

to mend fences with his rival

and recover the position
that is rightfully his.

Stay back please, Gentlemen!

- Vanished?
- Into thin air.

Wait!

The constitution is clear,
Mr. Clemenceau.

Power is vacant
if the president is impeded.

Illness, death, insanity, abduction.

But not vanishing into thin air!

By definition, it doesn't exist.
You can't take over.

Just watch me.

Gentlemen...

THE VANISHED PRESIDENT

1 YEAR EARLIER

It would've been easier

to declare that Germany
had quite simply revoked

its very existence.

May 19, 1919
Peace treaty negotiations

English is the official language.

So tell this gentleman
to speak in English.

I thought I'd have
to finish them off in Berlin.

I wouldn't have minded that.

Look at all those louses.

Do you hear the quality of the silence?

The true silence of fear.

Gentlemen,
Germany has accepted unconditionally

the terms of the Treaty of Versailles!

Tell Lloyd I was wrong about Mosul,
but no corrections.

We're not recopying 5,000 pages.

Mr. Prime Minister!

Oh no, not him!

Mr. Prime Minister.

Mr. President of the Chamber.

I come to you today
not as President of the Chamber,

but as President
of the Committee on Foreign Affairs.

Want to bury a decision?
Create a committee.

Here comes the chief gravedigger!

How deep will he go?

Prime Minister,
have you read our conclusions?

Yes, and I wonder
if life is still worth living.

It's irresponsible to refuse to see

that your relentlessness
is provoking...

the division of the Allied Countries!

Did someone say something, Millerand?

He could be of use to us,
Mr. Clemenceau.

His honesty, work ethic, civic virtue...

Come on, he's not God either.

- And you're not Satan.
- Don't be so sure.

Worse still,

your actions
will fuel resentment in Germany

and provoke revenge.

Cruel revenge.

Wouldn't it be preferable

to pursue a sustainable peace
that would elevate us all?

My poor Deschanel.
You're not a pacifist, you're a defeatist.

By rejecting the Treaty of Versailles,

you're a defeatist even in victory!

No small feat!

Perhaps Alsace-Lorraine
means nothing to you, a Belgian.

But for us, revenge is sweet!

I'll never forgive him
for the insults I've heaped on him.

His own father
called him "The Belgian."

Drove him nuts.

Why "The Belgian?"

Because he's Belgian!
Well, born in Brussels.

If it insults him, I'll use it.

40 years dealing with him!

40 years humiliating him!

Bravo, sir.

I saw the moment
when he nearly ran out of arguments.

His self-importance will lead us
into more global conflicts.

He'd have made a great village mayor!

Revenge is a bad advisor,
Mr. Clemenceau!

The world will not align
with your personal aims!

I can't believe
you got them all to agree.

We had to separate a Hungarian
and an Australian fighting over a girl.

I let them kill each other off
until I have but one to eliminate.

- We all have our methods.
- Indeed.

What does this mean?

"We believe in God."

Seriously, on money?

Worse!
Those Holy Joes believe it.

- Holy Joes?
- Clergymen.

I doubt you meet many here,
my dear Ariane.

Although...

You trust people
with this on their money?

Will such allies respect your treaty?

I mean, I don't know, sorry.

Where do you get such a question?

Brothels are a favorite pastime
for the French.

Be they engineers or gas lamplighters.

Our pillows are like voting booths,
no one lies.

We get a pretty good overview.

What will you do now?

Hail a taxi and go to Rue Franklin.

No, I mean in general, in life?

You'll go home to Vendée,
but will you be back?

Sure, why not.

Do I look like a retiree?

I talk too much. Sorry.

Surely it's a coincidence

that you handed in
your resignation today.

The only coincidence
is the transatlantic shipping schedule,

on which we rely for our voyage.

Of course, of course.

But I am surprised,

seeing as your term
was ending in three weeks.

Did you resign
in order to run for President?

Remember what Georges says.

The President is about
as useful as a prostate.

- Right, Georges?
- Absolutely.

It's not enough to be stupid.
You also have to be polite.

Two qualities I lack.

What did I do to you?

Nothing at all, Poincaré.
You do nothing to me.

If you should ever create
a political party,

I have a name for it.

"Poincarism."

No charisma.

Clemenceau running for President!

Buy L'Homme Libre, sir!
Thank you!

Clemenceau aspires to the presidency!

Clemenceau, our future...

...President. It says right here:

"The President is charged
with implementing treaties."

I couldn't stop the Treaty of Versailles,

but if elected President,
I can stop its implementation!

Are you quite sure?

Leygues, good timing!

You see before you
the future President!

But how will you...

How?

By submitting to the vote
of deputies and senators!

A good speech to Congress may do.

I'm not high up, but...

I aim for the stars.
We must abolish war.

Otherwise, the horrors we've seen

will be exacerbated tenfold
by the Treaty's humiliation.

The time has come for ideas.

And a new era
in which peace is a right,

and fraternity a given.

If I'm elected,
40 years of political ideas

cut from the cloth of dreams

can finally become real.

This is too good to miss.

Let's change the world.

That's beautiful.

The children will be so proud.

Am I a French Academician, yes or no?

Yes.

But you can't run again.

Of course I can.

As I did 7 years ago.

That's just it, you failed.

Leygues, what's wrong?

Four years presiding the Chamber

taught me about Congress.

Now I know the path to the presidency.

I'm ready to meet the challenge.

In Congress,

as in war,
one can lose or win in an instant.

The ballot box is a triumph...

or the guillotine.

It will be a triumph.

Don't be so sure. Look.

CLEMENCEAU ASPIRES TO THE PRESIDENCY

Pardon me, Leygues.

I thought for a second
you were on my side.

Mr. Deschanel,

I voted for you 7 years ago.

That one lone vote was you?

Why didn't you say so?
Everyone thought it was me.

Versailles, City of Kings.
The Tiger once again makes history.

In his great magnanimity,

Georges Clemenceau has agreed
to run for President

to crown his irresistible fate.

January 19, 1920
Presidential election

Thus I say to you,

with the gravest of certitudes,

that it will be our duty

to deploy a power

and an energy the likes of which
history has only seen thus far

in service to violence,

in an attempt to impose peace
in a free world!

Mr. Clemenceau.

You won the war.

Let us win the peace.

Mr. Deschanel,
bleating peace will not prevent war.

I seek not to prevent
but to abolish war.

France must have free rein
to properly implement the Treaty.

Whether we're at war or not,
life is a fight!

And you cannot eradicate that fight!

In that case, charge!

Mr. Deschanel,

do not venture into that minefield.

I am like the war
you know so little about,

having never served!

You are like the war, Clemenceau.

Finished.

Magnificent!

Such eloquence!

Bravo, Deschanel!

Mr. Deschanel may now speak.

It is necessary,

even in the language
of Corneille and Hugo...

to find new words to describe
the sovereign beauty

of freedom running down
the streets and cheeks of France.

In this newborn world,

let this be our slogan:

Life above all.

Through liberty,

and in the pursuit of justice.

True democracy

is nothing less than the continual rise

of the people through intelligence,

hard work

and honor.

The social question
is not an economic problem,

but a moral one!

What is this rubbish?

Take me home.

Off we go to Rue Franklin.

No. Home!

You mean St-Vincent-sur-Jard?

Yes!

What?

We must prepare a higher humanity.

For the world will one day kill war.

As it killed slavery,

and serfdom.

Let us believe in good!

Yes, we turn to education.

To childhood.

Yes,

we must reawaken in all of us
the soul of a free democracy.

Only then will we kill
that mortal danger, ignorance!

This is my quest.

Thus Clemenceau, the Tiger,
was not elected president.

In choosing this unknown candidate

who'd found the words to convince them,

the parliamentarians rewarded
not only their greatest pacifist,

but also their most determined

and especially,
most imaginative member.

"Let us win the peace!"

was soon the slogan on everyone's lips.

Faces beamed with joy.

Happiness was finally possible.

After so many ordeals,

the French could finally turn the page
and enter a new era.

Thanks to the President,
a new world was born.

The Postwar Years.

Don't worry, it's a cushy job.

And you have peace.
Clemenceau returned to Vendée.

Mr. President!

Please.
It's for L'Homme Libre.

An inauguration in the morning,

a few decorations in the afternoon,

and you're done.

Your main power is choosing
the color of the flowers.

Sorry, but I don't consider
the presidency

to be an inert cog.

I'll guide the government
to important measures.

You remind me
of myself at the start!

- I wanted peace too.
- I still do!

I'll suspend
the Treaty of Versailles.

Don't make it personal.

Let him have his treaty.

Humiliating Germany is his pet cause.
As peace is for you.

And be warned:

The ministers, chiefs of staff, MPs,
senators and councilmen

will not let you do one single thing.

They're as destructive
as they are cowardly.

Don't make waves.

Cut ribbons,
make a few speeches.

You're good at that.

Mr. President.

I owe the trust Congress placed in me
to the French people.

And to them,
I owe peace and justice.

Only then will I be legitimate.

Mr. President...

White.

White?

For the chrysanthemums.

The people's favorite color.
They adore white!

A cemetery full of them

looks like a starry sky.

Beautiful.

And sad, too.

Finished, gentlemen?

I'll be leaving now, Mr. President.

Pardon me.

Paul!

Congratulations from President Wilson.

The British Prime Minister
is pleasantly surprised.

And Colette writes,

"This is the first time
I've happily yelled: Vive La République!

I knew I married a special man.

Germaine,
I won't care about being President

unless I can change lives.

This suit is awfully large.
Who was it made for?

You can reuse the leftover fabric.

Look, Mr. Deschanel.
First newsreel of your presidency.

THE PASSING OF POWER

With dignity and gravity,

President Poincaré handed over the power.

After a term marred by war,
grief and privation,

President Poincaré drew on
his tragic experience

to solemnly advise
his inexperienced successor

in the merciless task that awaits him.

What do you think, Mr. President?

Very good.

It's a newsreel.

Right.

It'll be shown throughout France.

Great.

Could you play it again?

Mr. Clemenceau!

Good afternoon, Mr. Clemenceau.

I owe you an explanation.
I was detained in Paris.

I couldn't come sooner.

Can I invite you to dinner?

At my age,
I dine only on soup and anger.

Admit it.
You're a traitor, Millerand!

Excuse me.
Mr. Prime Minister.

Mr. Clemenceau, I couldn't refuse.

And remember,
I didn't take an oath.

I will look to your work
with Mr. Poincaré

to guide me as I work
with President Deschanel.

I could keep you informed.

A sort of advisor.

Exactly.

To help him avoid certain traps.

Right.

Traps, of course.

Set for him by his inexperience.

You could help.

Listen, Monsieur.

You're being a bore.

Georges.

You should go back home, Rose.

Pack for our trip to America, my love.

Madam.

So, where were we?

The press must praise him for
what he unfortunately does to perfection:

inaction.

- Well, he is for women's suffrage.
- Women's suffrage!

Democratic sentimentality!

Why count twice as many votes
for the same result?

He has absurd ideas,
but always chooses inaction.

The limited power of the presidency
will also hinder him.

And you, President of the Chamber,
are his chaperone.

You ensure he follows protocol
and does nearly nothing.

Everyone knows except him, apparently.

To avoid blunder in my assigned role,

I welcome your discreet advice

on the actions of the President.

Of course.
A good way for you to make amends.

For the good of France.

Before you go,

what say we pay a little visit
to Briand and Poincaré?

They have properties in the region?

They'll be pleased to see you.

Well, why not?

Poincaré is the fat one!

Excuse me, Mr. President.

I heard you wish

to extend
your pardoning powers.

I'd prefer to abolish the death penalty.

What? Be serious!

Abolish the death penalty?
With what exceptions?

None.

No exceptions.

Let's resume the agenda.

Or we'll never finish.

Society requires justice above all else.

Gentlemen, let France not be the last

to tear down the gallows,

that hideous monument
to human conceit,

for it attests to a naïve belief
in infallibility.

I've heard
you'd like the ladies to vote.

Absolutely.

Ladies' hands are not made
for political fisticuffs.

They are made to be kissed.

Devoutly for our mothers.

And passionately for our mistresses!

Counting twice as many ballots for...

Clerk, make note of this.

History will not want to miss words

so full of good sense and elegance.

The French will be entertained.

Get out, Minister.

This government will do
without your wit.

Get out!

You have no right!

Sorry, Prime Minister.

I interrupted you.

You mentioned ballots to be counted?

Yes.

I was saying...

that counting twice the ballots

should never stop us from taking...

humanistic, progressive action.

Good. From this day forward,

I'm suspending the Treaty of Versailles.

Impossible!

With the people's support,
anything is possible.

I wish to establish
direct universal suffrage,

sole gauge of the legitimacy of power.

Gentlemen,

we will get acquainted
with public opinion.

Do you not fear
that the uneducated elector,

unfamiliar with the delicate tool
we place in his hands,

will struggle to make his choice?

In the plebiscitary tradition,

I will enlighten each French citizen

by speaking to him
directly in his ear.

No more posters.

Rather record wax,

onto which I shall record my voice

so all French people may hear

the creation of a Labor Code,

to include a ban
on night work in factories,

compensation for workplace accidents,

the establishment of a retirement system

for laborers and farmers,

and the creation of a fraternal wage:

a revenue no longer linked to work,

but to a person
simply because he is alive.

And now the village idiot
will write a big speech

to announce his infantile ideas!

He who wins the battle
is he who believes in victory

15 minutes longer
than his opponent.

I believed I had won.
I wasn't wary enough.

Forget it, Georges.

And Millerand condemned him
for his inaction!

What a fool.

What's on your mind, Paul?

My father.

Try to focus on what you're doing.

My father never could be President,

though he deserved to be.

His adversaries pushed him
into exile in Belgium.

Fortunately,
Hugo and Dumas supported him.

And?

I can't let Father down.

Or sully his legacy.

He was never in a position
as favorable as mine today.

I appreciate the compliment.

Politically speaking, I mean.

If I attack the ministers head-on,

they'll band together and immobilize me.

They can't do that to the people.

And I know how to speak to the people.

The people do not live
on tactical reasoning.

They thrive on ideals,

enthusiasm and faith.

The French spirit is...

sparks of reason flying!

You won't let anyone down.

Right.

Mr. President, excuse me.

For newsreels,
the rule is to shoot at shoulder level.

Then let's break the rules!

Twist them, reform them!

Camera static, pointing at the sky.

The optical axis

must imperatively
be 54 centimeters from the ground.

When the President enters the frame,

the camera pans backwards
as he moves forwards.

- Are you ready?
- Yes.

The President said,

"To speak is to act,
and I'm a man of words."

So when he declared that his big speech
would change the world,

the French took him at his word.

Especially as rumor had it

that considerable social and humanist
progress was coming.

With him,

France would return
to the Enlightenment

and shine throughout the world.

The President worked tirelessly.

And despite the parades,
commemorations, protocols,

decorations, inaugurations

and chrysanthemums,

he still found time to work on
his political philosophy.

I must speak to persuade.

At the start,
no need for stunts or grand gestures.

That's it.

You know the facially-disfigured soldiers?

They want to come here

to tell you
they want to stay home.

Except to come here, I guess!

Better not bring in
the photographers that day!

I understand their desire.

Your humor, far less.

Use referendums...

Educate the people
about the noble action of voting

in order to mount a social project.

Mr. President.

We received
the filmmaker's footage of you.

He also did as you asked
and filmed people on the street.

What's that for?

I want to know the people
I'm speaking to.

We can't film everyone.

I don't want to speak to everyone.

I want to speak... to each one.

Right.

Vote for a social project,

rather than in one's own interest.

Mr. President...

we believe the speech
you're writing will mark history

and restore glorious luster
to the presidential office.

What do I hear outside?

A show of support from women.

The French are very impatient.

All citizens
must lift themselves up and grow.

And democracy must allow for this.

Mr. President?

For women's suffrage!

For women's suffrage.

And equality with men.

How very clever.

The country will become ungovernable.

Know what's in that speech?

Other stuff like this?

He's working on it, Millerand.

He's working on it!

- Women's suffrage.
- No thanks.

French women unite!

For equality.

No thanks.

Think of it as training.

No aggression.

No authority. Ok?

We're inaugurating your statue, Georges.

Show appeasement.

Serenity in the face of eternity.

That, never!

Ladies and gentlemen,

it's easier to make war than peace.

On my orders,

present arms!

At ease, men!

On my orders, present arms!

At ease, men. Thank you.

As I was saying...

On my orders...

present arms!

It's easier to make war...

Present arms!

On my orders,

present arms!

Present arms!

No one listens to me anymore.

Let's go to your country.

They tell me
it has nothing to do with you.

The poor soldiers
have been prescribed a new drug.

It renders them uncontrollable.

Is sincerity enough?

No.

But without it, nothing is enough.

It is our duty

to make it possible
for the people to see clearly.

We do this

by supporting education.

For that is where humanity is formed.

Citizens are formed.

That's perfect.

That's perfect, perfect!

But it's 25 seconds.

I won't change the world in 25 seconds.

No man should be a tool
in the hand of another man...

Workers of both sexes
should co-own companies...

In a sentence, as in life,
it's all a question of balance.

The President sought perfect harmony

between the depth of his ideas,

the clarity of their expression

and the right tone in his voice.

Ah yes, Leygues.

Are we inaugurating a school
this morning?

No, a monument to the dead.

That's it.

Of course.

FATHERS - SONS - HUSBANDS

See, Mr. President?

Thanks to us,
Cubism has a bright future.

What's this?

- It's painting day, sir.
- Painting?

- The official painting.
- Ah yes!

Maybe put your hand here.

Very well.

- Thank you. Now keep still.
- What?

Perfect.
Whatever you do, keep still.

Asking me to keep still is...

Let's change the protocol...

What's going on in there?

Mr. President, please keep still.

But...

Mr. President, please keep still.

Right.

- Mr. President, please.
- Right.

Look here, Mr. President.

Is this good?

Very good indeed.

True eloquence...

is sincerity.

Yes, that's it.

I'm not here to comment.

I... I must convince...

convince...

Convince that I am sincere.

This will allow me...

There must be clarity and method...

in each part.

Where were you?

Look at you.

On official photo day!

I was at Ariane's salon.
I just got back.

Paul,

don't pretend you went to the brothel
when in fact you can't write.

No, I'm making progress.

My speech will go out everywhere

thanks to synchronized image
and sound...

What are you on about?

You always get so scattered.

The children and I are counting on you.

Don't prove my father right.

Go on, finish writing that speech.

Make the French dream,
as you do me.

And if the duties bother you, quit them.

Only the speech matters.
It goes down in history.

- Chrysanthemums don't.
- No.

The speech.

When seeking the first word,
the first phrase,

one must hit the target.

Too general and I persuade no one.

Too specific
and no one feels implicated.

We must find what binds us.
That's it, what binds us!

The common good. This is mutualism.

Better to start at the end,
with mutualism.

No, it's all the same.

Speak of progress, social progress.

Progress must progress to be progress.

No, too general.

Georges?

Have you seen Georges?

Georges!

I've been looking all over for you!
I was worried.

Mr. Clemenceau!

Don't leave without telling me.
It's not nice.

As Prime Minister,

I wish you well
on behalf of the government

as you leave for the United States.

You didn't come all this way
to be such a bore.

No.

I came to inform you that
the Elysée's new resident is a success.

You can leave serene.

He's so absorbed in writing
his big speech,

he forgets all else,
leaving everyone in the lurch!

The mark of a genius!

For example...

on Monday,
during a decoration ceremony,

Mr. Deschanel revealed himself to be...

extremely modern.

Is that so?

Tell me more!

He broke down crying

before a disfigured soldier
he was honoring.

Rarely have I seen
such an empathetic leader!

Indeed.

What did I tell you, Millerand?
He's ripe!

Duty calls, my love!
Duty calls.

He wants to make the ladies happy.

"Kugelhopf with Deschanel sauce, ladies!"

Print it!

Or this one.

"We'll laugh forever.
He's immortal!"

"Thank God he's immortal!"

Yes, of course.

L'Aurore and Le Petit Journal
should run it too.

What else?

Even better. The official photo.

Mustache crooked, expression glum!

Straight out of a gothic film!

Going out to 36,000 town halls!

He's stupendous.

Content to be his own worst enemy!

He disarms me!

DESCHANEL
The Presi-dance!

Daily, the Parisian press
methodically sharpens its attacks

against the President,
tarnishing his image

and ridiculing his actions.

Will Paul Deschanel
use the traditional Garden Party,

frequented by the smart set,

to address these attacks?

Surprise! It's Georges Clemenceau!

The Tiger,
at rest since the election,

is a fish in water
at the Presidential palace.

Mr. President?

The Garden Party awaits.

- What?
- It's tradition, sir.

Of course.

Be right there.

Mine curls up too in Spring.

Yes, it's...

the humidity this year,
the changing weather.

I use a little shoe polish
in the morning.

I never thought of that.

Yes, it...

nourishes it,
makes it more impermeable.

What kind of brush do you use?

English? Belgian, maybe?

French.

Of course.

I, too, remain faithful
to the good old French brush.

But I don't have your elegance.

- You flatter me.
- No.

Mine hangs heavy on my lips,
depriving them of all emotion.

Yours is proud, bouncy,
lively and mischievous.

It lights up your face!

Such a shame about the official photo.

Fortunately
you have the official painting.

Less progressive, sure.
But it does allow, for posterity,

to correct any imperfections.

Whereas the photograph, sadly...

shows no mercy!

It's funny.

I never imagined
we'd have such a conversation.

- You're a good sport.
- Why?

Oh, because I lost the election!

Well... yes.

You know, Deschanel,
politics are behind me now.

I aspire to one thing only: serenity.

Only trivial pursuits excite me now.

I come here as a mere tourist.

Speaking of which,

I'd very much like
to visit your office.

Your speech...

How is it coming along?
I can't wait to hear it.

Your big speech.

The whole country
is holding its breath.

I'm working on it.
It's not always...

easy to change France.

And...

and... the world.

Come now, you're good.
You have new ideas.

It's a tough job,
but no one has your talent.

Your detachment.

And your self-control.

Only the great men have it.

Let's go, that's enough!

Mrs. Deschanel.

Mr. Clemenceau.

Pardon me,
I just saw your husband.

I'm very worried.

I know the cruelty of power.

I fear your husband
is suffering greatly.

Yes.

I'm at a loss.

I think I'll call a doctor.

That's a very good idea.

Medical science
is making great progress.

Especially military medicine.

Really? Military medicine?

A great doctor saved my life,

when I was
in a similar state to your...

the President.

I'll put you in touch with him,

so you can explain the situation.

Thank you, Mr. Pres...

Thank you, Georges.

Come to bed, Paul.

Coming.

I'll just finish a paragraph and...

I found him like this
this morning and sent for you.

Mr. Clemenceau told me.

- When did he change?
- After the election.

- When was that again?
- 2 months ago.

Here, my love.
Easy, now.

What is it?

Is it... an infection?

A virus? An illness?

Worse.
I fear it may be psychological.

Oh no!

I treated soldiers for insomnia
after trench warfare

with a new drug from America: Veronal.

It uses a new formula: barbiturate.

But I must warn you
of the possible side effects...

Don't you worry.

My husband loves all that is new.

Give it to him.

Does it work with any alcohol?

I don't know.

They use Scotch whisky over there.

Let's not tempt fate.

At the very least,
it should calm his anxiety.

Saintly women,

pouring their precious tenderness
on the wounds of the soldiers.

Stoic mothers,

martyrs to their devotion.

Slave laboring women,

improvising in decimated factories,

I must show myself worthy of you!

For right trumps might.

So you will vote.

And you will have equal pay to men.

And we will all live together,
in the most beautiful...

the most beautiful explosion of virtue!

That's a good start.

After that, I don't know.
I'll have to continue.

Your words are sublime.

But... are you all right?

Uh, yes.

The sublime flirts with the ridiculous.
But this time I got it right.

So!

Get what you wanted?

All the honors
for a minimum of effort?

Sorry, but you weren't there
for the inaugurations,

the monuments,

the endless medals...

You're still a bad orator.

You should make more of an effort!

Father...

with all due respect, you're dead.

I'm talking to you out of kindness.

Nice save.

Quite whimsical. So Belgian!

You need to leave.

I'll manage on my own. You'll see.

Take your Veronal, Paul.

It chases away anxiety.

Sorry, I think I need...

to plead guilty!

I dozed off during

your exposé, my dear Millerand.

And who among us

has never fallen asleep
in a meeting?

Who? Go on.

I was finished.

Pass me the minutes, please.

Here, Mr. President.

Thank you.

Millerand, can you explain to me?

What?

You went to the Vatican.
A diplomatic visit of this importance

requires my approval.

We voted before my departure.

Look.

See? Here.

10 votes for,

2 votes against,

and 1 abstention.

I believe the abstention was you.

You were fast asleep.

But...

I'd advise against retaking the vote.

Did you see...

this morning's papers?

THE PRESIDENT AT WORK

They'll ask why you abstained.

That would be vexing.

Excuse me, Mr. President.

You have an inauguration in Montbrison.

Oh yes!

Your Veronal, sir.

Ah, these old buildings!

I'd need to stay a whole year
to get this place ship-shape!

It's so drafty.

- You opened all the windows.
- Sure, it's hot!

Your big speech...

It must be ready by now?

It's really very hot.

I don't know how you can work
in such heat.

I'm starting to feel
a bit ill myself.

We need to open up.

Open up!

He was on the tracks near the forest.

He thinks he's Clemenceau,
with another name.

Poor fellow.

Well, he does have clean feet.

Good day.

My respects, Madam.

Paul Deschanel,
President of the Republic.

Might I take advantage
of your hospitality

to get some rest?

Shall I fetch the doctor?

I wouldn't want news
of my presence

to get around.

I've had a...

And I'm...

I mean, I'm just fine.

I just need some rest.

Go on up.

Upstairs, second bedroom.

Thank you.

Why the boy's room?

He can't sleep in the kitchen.

As you said, he's a poor fellow.

We should get along.

Mr. Clemenceau,
did the President flee?

Could it be extraterrestrials?
It's very mysterious.

- Suicide?
- We'd have found the body.

He vanished.

I can't say much more.

The information I have

is top secret at the present time.

However, it seems...

We're not sure, but it seems...

the Bolsheviks may have fomented
an abduction.

I'll keep you abreast of developments.

Naturally, I'm here to serve France.

If she has a mission for me,

I will rise to the occasion!

- Why the Bolsheviks?
- It just came out.

And why not?

"Bolshevik" is a bit like "German."

A good synonym for guilty.

I suppose so.

But still!

You think I like
not being the culprit myself?

This is far better than at the Elysée.

So tell me,

what's your political party,
Mr. President?

No label, no epithet.

My ideas cannot be contained by a party.

I'm taking a rabbit to market.

You're eating late.

My respects, Madam... Miss.

Hello.

Jeanne.

Our son's widow.

He died in battle.

She helps us a lot. Housework.

Farm work.

It's ok.

I can speak for myself.

I do farm work next door.

She does a lot.

Great!

Soon she'll be able
to do one more thing.

Vote.

Mr...

- Your name again?
- Deschanel, Paul.

That's it.

Mr. Deschanel.

President of France.

Yes.

- Don't be shy.
- I'm not, at all.

Yes you are.

I put my trousers on

one leg at a time,
like everyone.

Everyone?

Everyone who wears trousers.

You're a man, like everyone.

Not only votes for women.

Also nursery school for children,

civil servant bakers,

the abolition of the death penalty...

Well, I won't roll out my entire program,

I'm not campaigning.

Anyway, I'm already in office.

Finally someone new and he's a nut.

In pajamas, to boot!

Hello, my dear Ariane.

What's this Bolshevik story?
What'd you do to him?

Incredible, nobody believes me!

I had nothing to do with it!

People don't just vanish.

He does!

And it's surely for the best.

The Republic
is hanging on his non-speech.

No laws pass,
not even his screwy ones.

Disaster looms!

People don't care about laws.

They want to forget and have fun!

Have fun,
with a president like this?

Apparently he thinks he's a crow.

He climbs trees at the Elysée
and caws his head off!

Perhaps he flew away.

Stop it.

Does anyone ever pass this way?

Well, no.

Not since the highway.

All traffic diverts there.

Your situation is pure gold.

No pressure.

You look more dressed now.

I feel a bit bad taking...

Don't worry, we no longer need them.

Etienne!

I gave his clothes to Paul.

Jeanne agrees.

It'll give them a second life.

Good idea.

It's for the best.

Might as well give them to Paul.

If he can use them.

This way...

you can go home, Mr. President.

Your ministers must be worried.

Don't worry about them.

We can see you're not well.

Come.

We'll take you to the doctor.

Well, I...

With all due respect,

you're not the President.

We're not saying you lack the skills.

Of course...

I'm not the President!

Why, indeed?

No, I...

I don't know what got into me.

I was delirious!

No, I'm a sales representative.

I'm a bit worn out

after a difficult season.

I sell hats!

And not just any hats, no!

I sell the one,

the only!

The one that invented civility.
The top hat.

Shall we have a little drink?

Not to mention the shiny Huit-Reflets
in felted fur or silk.

A cut above the Delington
or the Opera hat.

Fancy a switch to the top hat, Radeau?

Custom will scarcely allow it.

Be a trailblazer.

Forget it.

Crossing-keepers wear caps.

Period. Caps.

He wants to help you.

Change feels good.

Yes.

Justice is expanding

and spreading its light
to defend the weakest.

For protection,

it involves the State

and builds the nation as a united team,

equitably balancing the liberty

and the fraternity of our motto.

Providential leaders do not exist.

Presidents do not change the world.

No.

People do.

Where on earth can he be?

Who?

Deschanel, idiot!

Where can he be?

Must be on his way to Russia by now.

But where, exactly?

Shut up.
You're such an imbecile.

You know it wasn't the Bolsheviks!

Something happened, but what?

Could be anything with him.

Who knows?

Don't worry, Mr. Clemenceau.

The Elysée will soon be yours.

Your election is a simple formality.

It was horrible, the room was empty.

I couldn't be elected.
No one was there.

Only abstentions!

Stop worrying, Georges.

You're the only candidate.

Have you been selling hats long?

Almost as long as I've worn them.

When I was six years old,

my father made me wear
my first dunce cap.

I'm sure you'd done nothing.

No.

My father also sold hats.

He dreamt of becoming the head.

I succeeded.

I'm head of hats.

Yes.

But did you really want that?

It's no good
carrying another's baggage.

He put all that into your head.

There are many other things.

Beautiful things.

Music hall singers.

Umbrella vendors.

Gravediggers.

Clerks.

Presidents of the Republic.

Indeed.

Why not?
There are no low jobs.

If I were President,
that would be a real change!

Do we say Madam President?

Well...

yes.

Yes, yes.

During the war,
women did men's jobs.

Why not politics?

Makes sense.

And we'd talk
about different things.

Absolutely. I couldn't agree more.

Oh, a shooting star!

Make a wish.

Look, another one!

How beautiful
all these little lights are!

Would you like to come to Paris with me?

You could do any number of things.

Mr. Deschanel!

Mr. President!

The constabulary has come
to set you free!

Liberate the President immediately!

Gentlemen, please.

Take your seats.

It's time.

Go on in.

Shit!

How are you, Clemenceau?

I heard you were here.

We look away an instant,
you call another Versailles conference!

So when's your big speech?

Friday, gentlemen.

Friday!

Where to, Mr. Clemenceau?

Wherever you like.

I don't care.

The Tiger was defeated.

His anxiety quelled,

President Deschanel
was finally ready

to give his big speech.

He invited the press,

and arranged to make records

so each citizen
could hear his ideas

in the streets, cafés
and even the cinemas.

To avoid his unsinkable rival's triumph,

Clemenceau gave in
to his lady friend's desires

and took a boat to America,

where the power
and the peoplehonored him

as his country had not.

Dear Radeau family,

Thanks to you,
I finally wrote the speech

I'd struggled
to squeeze out of myself.

You reignited in me
the flame of hope that quashes

the cynicism of all those
who wield power over the people.

I was riddled with doubt.

I felt helpless.

But thanks to you,

I'll get my revenge.

Here.

Thanks.

It will be fine.

You've prepared it so well.

It can only be fine.

Yes.

I'll wait for you out there.

I'll put it here.

No! This mustn't start again!

Trust... Fraternity...
The State... Their lives...

Flame... Altruism...
Society... Morals...

Paul, there you are!

No!

Come see!

Look!

Gentlemen!
Help us gather the pages!

Stop filming please!

Thank you.

Paul...

The guards didn't get it all.

This'll help you piece it together.

And with your eloquence,

you'll have no trouble improvising.

From the confines of the universe,

light from certain planets

reaches us
long after they've disappeared.

Like those beams,

ideas travel through time.

Even long after I'm gone,

even without me,

perhaps one day,
the death penalty will be no more.

The cannons will fall silent.

Men will respect women, who will vote.

Then and only then,
from the depths of oblivion,

without glory or false modesty,

I will be able to say
that I did not fight in vain.

The state of my health

no longer allows me to take on...

to take on

the great responsibilities
you have entrusted to me.

The hour has now come

when I would fail you

if I did not hand my duties back over.

I therefore hereby submit

my resignation

as President of the Republic.

Perfect, perfect.

If Mr. Clemenceau takes a boat soon,

he'll arrive in time for the election.

I'll try to reach him.

Incredible!

Isn't progress incredible?

We can communicate
with the world in an instant.

I can actually call New York,

and they'll answer?

Incredible!

Incredible.

Thank you.

Any news about Deschanel?

He resigned yesterday!

- What?
- Yes, yes!

Right!

Let's pack and get back to France!

Georges!

It was last week's newspaper!

Mr. Alexandre Millerand
is elected President!

The Treaty of Versailles
will be enacted.

Germany will pay!

Mr. Millerand chose Mr. Leygues
as Prime Minister,

for he proved to everyone
his total absence of personal ambition.

At the top of the government,

the dance of the insignificant
could finally recommence.

Are you sure you want to do this?

France must remember what I did for her.

Only then
will I be able to face oblivion.

The final journey.

When I'm gone,
I want France to feel me close to her.

Isn't that a bit much?

Well, yes.

Don't worry.

People will forget Deschanel.
He was a Don Quixote.

Don Quixote.

The chivalrous knight,
and Sancho,

his squire of perpetual good sense.

An idealistic dreamer
who refuses to see reality,

and the pragmatic survivor.

Don Quixote is wrong, but...

how right he is to be wrong!

Everybody ready?

Yes.

Rolling...

Action!

I foresee that one day,

we will speak of the friendship
between Germans and the French.

It will be the source of stability
for our continent

as we build it.

I foresee wars over oil,

and all the folly they will create.

For, I tell you,

soon the world will be but one.

And we will all be equal.

Representatives of humanity on our Earth.

And beyond.

For we will not have forgotten.

For we will have risen up.

And we will have foreseen.

That is the future. Because...

the beauty of each of our lives

depends so much
on the meaning we give them.

The meaning

of the fraternal adventure.

Bravo.

That's good.

Thank you.

After several months in Rueil Sanatorium,

Paul Deschanel died in 1922.

At his request,
no speech was given at his funeral.

His presidency left no trace.

He is known simply as
"the President who fell off the train."

After recreating newsreels
of himself in the trenches,

Georges Clemenceau polished his image
for posterity throughout the world.

The Treaty of Versailles
led to World War II.

Paul and Germaine Deschanel's son
died on its first day.

In memory of my father, Léo.

THE VANISHED PRESIDENT

Subtitles by Sionann O'Neill

Subtitling: HIVENTY