All language subtitles for My Little Princess

- Is it you, mother?
- I said I'd be back.

You're the prettiest mother.

- Leaving already?
- I'm going out.

You're going out at night?

Exclusively at night.

I just came by for a kiss.

Mother, don't go.

- We've no food.
- I can't stay with that up there.

We've no money.

My love.

Mummy will be back, darling.

Is that all there is?

We could've gone on credit.

That's nonsense.

You think mummy will return?

With your mother, we never know.

I'm sure she'll come back.

At ten, she'll be back...

Marlene Dietrich had hollow cheeks.

Listen. Do you want to know why?

Because she had her molars
and wisdom teeth removed.

I'm going to be
like Marlene Dietrich.

That way we'll both eat
only marble cake dipped in milk.

- Stop, Marlene Dietrich.
- Go on.

- My love.
- It's Marlene.

Thanks for the money.

Don't touch that.

It's valuable.

This is your gift.

And this...

is my gift.

What's wrong?

Who gave you all that?

You're too old for photography.

Stop. My head hurts.

Are you in any trouble?

I won't tell you
since I can't talk to anyone here.

If your feet hurt, sit down.

You're annoying me.

Go and criticise her.
She's out relaxing,

sipping on cocktails
with her billionaire lovers.

If only you worked.

As if expression through images
wasn't work.

It's the most beautiful,
sacred thing.

I'm going to make it.

I'll make it.

- Leave me.
- Why not?

Why? Why can't I exist, too?
I'm human, not a dog.

That's not nice. At all.

I'm afraid of coming here.

I hardly dare coming.
I know you'll torment me.

It takes a day to recover,
like being hammered on the head.

She wrote to me.

I'd just like you to respond to her.

Why do you hang
my mother's portrait up?

You forget you threw
my mother out when she was...

pregnant at fifteen.

Don't tell me you've forgotten.

Violetta, listen.

Someone was nasty to Granny
when she was young.

When she was very attractive.

She blames me now.

Isn't that right, Granny?

Am I wrong or right?

Please, leave the child
out of all this.

Let's be calm. Everything's fine.

Besides, she's mine.

Then why did you leave
the two of us alone for so long?

For all these months. Why?

Stop, Granny. Get up.

Get up, Granny.

Enough is enough.

If it's like that,
I'll do what she did.

I'm never coming back.

There's no reason to.

Will you come up with me?

Up there?

My cheap paintings.

I'm done with those.
Hasta la vista.

Come on.

Come in.

Leave your bag there.

And take off your skates.

Come here.

Sit down.

You haven't come here
in a long time.

We'll have to make up
for lost time.

How about some halva and fruit?

I ate that in Constanta
when I was little.

Undo your plaits.

You should show your lovely hair.
Don't you think?

- Do you like it?
- Very much.

You were too young for me
to say anything before.

But, you know, I take pictures now.

When I don't see you?

Would you like to pose for me?

Lift your arms.

No, don't smile.

Smiles are stupid.
They're for weddings.

Direct your gaze...

Look at me. As if looking at Hell.

There. Turn your face a little.

That's it...

Like this.

Lie on the floor.

Like an offering.

More effort.
Don't you want to go on?

- Yes, I do.
- Well, then?

Now, arch backward. Like this.

Very far back.

And your hand on your forehead.

Like so. Your fingers

spread on your forehead.

We're finished.

Go downstairs. Granny's waiting.

Don't tell Granny. Promise?

It's between us.
She wouldn't understand.

We agree?

I won't say a word, mummy.

Promise.

Simmer down. Adèle.

Violetta.

Hand in your copies.

Granny's overdressed you again.

She's always afraid
of god knows what.

Aren't you glad to see me?

Go home.

She's coming with me.

Are you going
to the parent meeting?

Don't ask that of me.

The other parents will.

They're bored. They're rustics.

- What are rustics?
- People with nothing to offer.

We've better to do.

You'll no longer dress her.

Put this on.

Is it for me?

You're not actually
dressing her in that get-up?

What get-up?
I don't see any get-up.

It's a very pretty lace dress.

Handmade.

Everyone's looking.

That's why it was made.
So she'd be looked at.

Why wouldn't they?

- They'll criticise.
- There's no harm.

We're enjoying ourselves, aren't we?

Look. She's very happy
and pretty in her dress. See.

Isn't that right?

Granny thinks we'll die
if we laugh. Watch me laugh.

Come on, let's go.

Violetta, you're the prettiest girl
in the world.

My girl is beautiful.

I dreamt of you both last night.

You were much older, Violetta.

If I'd seen you the way you are,
it would've been more interesting.

What time is your flight?

9pm for Oslo.

I'm coming, too.

Not with your girl.

Take her to your grandmother's.

Ernie.
Why is it so complicated?

I've too much anxiety.

Relax, Hanna. You're hysterical.

It's Grandmother. She'll drive me mad.

Isn't it about time
to stop thinking of Grandmother?

Yes. Let me show you my work.

What work?

I take pictures.

Let's have a look.

I took them with
the camera you gave me.

What do you think?

Better than your rubbish paintings.

For you, her and Grandmother.

And so you can get some
decent photographs developed.

Did you see how my women
are enchanting and intoxicating?

With heavy breasts...

...and hair like Arabian drapes.

Their rumps are...

splendid.

It's exceptional, Hanna.

I want you to continue.

Stop it.

Stop. Can't you see I'm choking?

Look what she's done.

- Why did you do that?
- Do what?

Why did you smear his painting?

I didn't do it on purpose.

Come now.

Is Ernie your boyfriend?

No, not really.

Your mother is a physiophobe.
End of story.

Physiophobia
is claustrophobia of the flesh.

Picture yourself in a lift

going up, up, up.
It's full of people and...

you can't get away and...

and you can't take it anymore.

What about Daddy?

Listen, darling.

You need to know that fathers
are a major handicap of nature.

Dear God,
please don't let anything happen

to my girls, especially Violetta.

Watch over her heart and her soul.

Keep evil away from her.

Lord, I'm begging you.

It's my very own television.

Get ready.
I'm just checking my light meter.

Is this good, mother?
Is the pose alright?

Yes, it's interesting.

Do you know who you look like?
It's insane.

Like Shirley Temple.

I know you don't know her.

Who is Shirley Temple?

Shirley Temple was a little girl
who sang and danced like you.

She looked quite like you.

She was a little girl
from Hollywood.

Do you want...

More lipstick.

Blood red.

The little mouth.

You're Shirley Temple,
violet vendor in the stars.

You'll put this on.

I don't want to.

But you can be a Prima Donna.

I want this.

Can you act like an enchantress?

Look here. How do the stars do it?

Very good.

It's exactly that.

You can work it.
I don't know how,

but you work it.

Very pretty.
The eyelids down. Very pretty.

Let me introduce you to...

a friend.

The Bald Narrator.

He's ugly.

But that's what's poignant.
It's deeply moving.

Take him.

It disgusts you?

That's it.

It's ugly. I don't like it.

It's white.

It's lovely.

It's soft.

Who did your hair?

It's like cotton candy.

My mummy and I take pictures.

What's that?

She's the devil's daughter.

She's his daughter.
I'll chase you away, Satan.

Granny, what's wrong?

Turn off that TV. I can't stand it.

There's nothing but rubbish
on that idiot box. Here.

Let in air. It's greasy.

The meatballs are still cooking.

Well, I don't feel well.

I just have one question for you.

I want to eat calmly now.

I won't stay long. I'm sorry.

You mustn't go up there.
Understood?

Understood, Granny?
Don't go up there.

That room... that room...

with the mirrors...
and the blocked windows.

There's tons of spoiled food.

What do you do
with the child at night?

What do you do?

Everything may be spoiled,

but in any case, I'm an artist.
Not you.

We're not all required
to live the same way.

You forgot. You've been stuck
in the middle ages for years.

You refuse to see. You're backward.

I love very, very much,
but you're behind the times.

You mustn't shout
when I come to eat here.

I'll no longer eat here, then.

"Either that wallpaper goes,
or I do."

I couldn't have said it better.

I think it'll be me.
I'm going to croak.

What's she saying?
I don't understand a thing.

Wrecked.

Give me back my keys.

You won't come back. It's finished.

Questions about what's spoiled
or not are done with.

If you need to bathe,
you can go when I'm there.

- I'll bathe in the sink.
- My keys?

Here.

I'm happy to see you.

We met at my gallery.

Antoine, gallery owner.

Arnaud, my editor... Tina.
Meet Hanna Giurgiu.

And Violetta, my daughter,
Nadia and Fifi, my models.

The foolish virgins.

Can I sit down?

Of course.

Please sit.

I'm a photographer.

Can I, Ernie?

Of course.

A menu, please.

Do you like photographs?

- Yes, I do.
- So, take a look.

Tell me what you think.

Very interesting.

What do you do?

- I make kokoshniks.
- What's that?

Kokoshniks are head-dresses
worn in Russian ballets.

And, you like posing nude?

It doesn't bother me.

Why? Nudity is beautiful.
Isn't it, Fifi?

What do you do?

I teach Chinese at a college.

Chinese. That's very nice.

Very erotic, the little girl.
I like that.

Would you like to publish me?

Fascinating, is it not?

Very interesting.

Very innovative.

Isn't that right, Ernst?

Yes, very...

I encourage her.

Here, drink.

It'll keep you still.

Why is death so present
in your pictures?

Death is a party.

No, death is a whore.

Stop. Don't talk nonsense.

She is charming.

Come see me at the gallery.
We'll talk.

'No one is bound
to the infinite' - Ernst

mother, I'm hungry and tired.

You'll eat after. It's time to work.

You're beautiful.

Do you recall Marlene Dietrich?

In the cabaret?

Go on the other set.

Stretch out your chin more.

Your head further back.

Your head further back.

Marlene, you see...

Give me a bedroom gaze.
More sadness.

Very sad.

Yes. Very sad.

Spread a little more your...

your legs.

It's very pretty like that.

Good, not bad.

It looks like Balthus.

Spread them more.

Your legs, more.
Move your hand.

Move it.

Keep them spread. It's nice.

You're too inhibited.

But there's no hair.
People will know I'm young.

But that's what's so splendid.
It's striking.

Like a poisonous flower.
That's the beauty.

Show me.

Show me. I didn't know
you were so inhibited.

Just a little more.
You'll see later, it's wonderful.

Wait, one minute.

Hurry up. We'll be late.

I'm done. I'm done.

It's ready. It's ready.

Help me, Violetta.

I won't invite you since you hate
those kinds of places anyway.

- See you later.
- See you.

I saw Ernst's last painting.
It's a beauty.

Silence, please.

Listen, everyone.

I'm sure you're wondering
who Hanna Giurgiu is.

And, well, so am I.

She's obviously from another planet.

She has her own world

and brings us back a few images
that she's entrusted to me.

Thank you sincerely.
Violetta, too.

The little princess
of this unique universe.

And thank you, Hanna,

who took the art world by storm.

What do you think
of your mother's pictures?

Go and ask her.

I'm interested in your opinion.

I'm just a model.

What do you think
about when you pose?

About what she says.

Well, what does she say?

To think about sad things and be...

very glamorous.

What does being
"very glamorous" mean?

It's beautiful.

It's dark.

It's inaccessible.

It's distant.

You're questions are stupid, Jean.
Leave me.

I like the contrast
of the immature body

and the perverse gaze.

Very "Bellmer".

People are calling you
the high priestess of eroticism.

Yes, but...

it's not just any eroticism,
a literary eroticism.

Apparently, you live in a sanctuary.

I work in my room at night.

Your universe is dark,
your creatures are exuberant.

Where does it come from?

From the tales and stories
of my childhood.

Where did you grow up?

In Romania.

If you would allow me,

I'll write you an erotic text.

Please do.

Have you seen Ernst?

I'll find him.

Ten thousand.

A million total.

No. Ten thousand francs.

We'll repay Ernie.

Because we aren't beggars.

Here, Granny.

1,000 francs.

We agreed to meet?

But you should see my latest work,

since you didn't visit the gallery.

Here it is. At least I have class.

I go and see people.

- Don't you care how I am?
- Yes. How are you, dear Ernst?

Fine.

See. I turn worthless
girls into goddesses.

That's Nadia.

From the dance school.
You've met.

Did you see her sex?

It looks like a spider.

Do you like it?

Wait. Wipe before touching.

I like the one with
the spider-like sex.

She has the perfect sex, dreamlike,

magic and surreal.

Yes, it's marvellous.

Do you like any of them?

The nude one of Violetta
and that of Nadia.

They cost two million.

You don't hold back.

But, you're a friend
and you've done a great deal for me.

You can have them for...

Ten thousand, mother.

Half, at least.

Good thing I gave you that camera.

You'll be able to repay me.

You're a visionary.
That was my intention.

It's insane, I swear.

So, then...

Five thousand.

There you go.

Where are you going?

To the toilet.

That one's broken.

That's alright.

I came because I needed money.

I swear. You always spoke of him.

You said he's nice.
I didn't know what to do...

I'm sorry.

I found his number
in your address book.

So, I came and...

He took me in and...

We're getting married.

Well, how wonderful...

She cooks for you...

How wonderful...

Mother, stop.

I can't.

A smell in here is nauseating.

Shut up.

I didn't know you could be so mean.

You're worthless to him.

You're not even his wife.

You don't even sleep with him.

My head is spinning.

No one has ever done that to me.
Not like that.

Why are you talking loudly?

I'm not.
This is my way of speaking.

You're irritating me.

Can't I say what I think?

What if I died?

It could happen to me.

It could very well happen.

I'm not feeling well.

I am not feeling well.

My, what a tatty carpet.

Sir, could you
open my window please?

You know what?
We could die in here.

What would you say
if I croaked on your carpet?

Stop. I want to piss.
I can't just piss in your taxi.

What's all this about?

Get out of my cab.

I heard you pose naked.

Stuff full of "insext".

We saw you in a bookshop.

It's art, bitch.

Piss off.

You're the bitch.

Leave her alone.

Wake up.
We're going on a wonderful trip.

What's happening?

We're leaving.

She stays here.

No. I'm staying here.

Then you can't see
Sid Vicious or shop.

- Where are you going?
- England.

Mr. Updike is waiting for you.

I'm so happy to do
this "special order."

Such a pretty little girl.

You're lovelier than
in your mother's photos.

And sexier, too.

I'm delighted
you accepted my invitation.

Very well.

I hope it'll go well...

and that my camera will work.

Will we shop tomorrow?

We shoot tomorrow.

I want to shop.

We'll shop after the shoot.

Such a pretty little girl.

Kiss him on the mouth, Violetta.

Violetta, very good.

Take off your dress.

It'll be better.

No. I'd rather like this.

Take off your clothes.

There we go.

Pretend to kill him by sword.

With force.

Stretch out.

Arch your back.

Spread your legs.

Just your thighs.

Spread them a little.

Let him touch you.

Take that off.

Enough.

Undress.

I don't want to. Stop.

I don't want to pose.
I'm disgusted. Bloody idiot.

No, I got a few good ones.

Why are you spoiling everything?

As if the life
of a princess wasn't enough.

Shut up. We're going home.

I call the shots.

So life must stop if
Miss wants to go home?

What if I don't agree?

Updike's waiting. We're going out.

Can't I have a life?

Nobody wants you.

Is that so?

Everyone's at my feet.

Look at yourself.

You're too old.

I'm the one Updike wants.

You use me to get attention.

You're my top choice, my daughter.
I tried making you happy.

But any of my models
could have done the job.

I don't think so.

A little girl is much
more interesting.

Isn't that right, mother?

What's your point?

I don't want to pose with men.

Shut your mouth.

What about the book I gave you?

I don't care about Bataille.

You're wrong.
You should read and talk to me.

I don't want to pose naked with men.

What about Lewis Carroll?
Suggestion isn't criminal.

That's where the art is.

I thought you were
old enough to see it.

But I was wrong.

You're stuck in mediocrity.

Don't make a scene.

Updike likes art. He helps artists.

I don't want to break ties with him.

Do you want us dead?
How will you live?

He's paying us a great deal of money.

5,000 lires. Go and find it.

I don't love you.

I don't want you
as a mother anymore.

I hesitated before bringing you.

I thought you were smarter,
but sadly I was wrong.

Don't make a scene.

I shouldn't share my life with you.

And yet...

God knows how I love you.

Few mothers love
their daughters as I do.

Everyone knows.

I don't care anymore.

I want to go back to Paris.

Stop rebelling for God's sake.

What does "incest" mean?

Incest, my dear,
is when you sleep with your parents.

So, it's what you do with me.

Of course not.
What I do with you is art.

It's totally different.

I can read you some fan letters.

I've never touched you. You're mad.

We have fun. It's a game.

I don't have fun.
I no longer want to pose.

If you're done posing, it's a shame.

But, my photos remain in the
memories of all who've seen them.

Like it or not.

That's what matters.

Who cares about the rest?

Will I find myself in a porn shop?

You're mad.

I'm an intellectual artist.

My last work
was in a great art journal.

Yes, I know. Brassaï,
Doisneau, Avedon... art, art, art.

The best photographers
are published in it. Shit.

Were you brainwashed at school?

The world is full of idiots.
Sad, but true.

In order to express yourself
and move forward,

you've a choice to make.

This is stupid
over three jealous sluts.

Try and stand up to them.

Stop repeating yourself.
Answer my question.

You have your life in front of you.

Your stupid questions
are pissing me off.

Incest...

What a bunch of yokels.

Come on, let's go.

You don't take photographs on the bog.

Don't be mad. It's funny.

- Give me the film.
- It's only fun.

Don't ruin my film for a photo.

You've no right.

Let go of it.

Bitch.

Violetta, come back.

Come back.

Your mother

dropped off this letter.
She's concerned.

As we all are.

Are you coming on Sunday?
We'll go walking.

I don't know. I'll try.

Leave me alone now.

"We mustn't fight.

"I spend sleepless nights
thinking of you.

"This photo is stunning
in its own way.

"You'll find that out on your own.
You're the queen of the bog.

"Your loving mother.
Burning kisses.

"P.S. - I have a superb gift

"for you."

I'm going to kill her.

What's wrong?

Enough of this.

You're aloof. You don't work.

You're never here.

I want your mother to come.

Get out.

Get out now.

And I don't want you back
in that indecent outfit.

Why doesn't your mother come?

Stay here.

You're punished.

She thinks she's special.
I hate her so much.

You're right. That slut

tries too hard.

I'm done with you.

- You're feeling blue?
- You understood me.

Your gift?

It's a superb
Yves Saint Laurent dress.

I don't want your gifts.

Go away.

two hot chocolates.

Why are you mean to your mother?

That bitch is the mean one.

That bitch.

You're talking nonsense.

Mothers aren't mean to their girls.

Why is that nonsense,
Mr. Know-it-all?

Because mothers always
love their daughters.

She isn't forced to.

She can't do otherwise.

She loves you

in her own way.

What do you think of pornography?

Your mother...

is a pioneer.

You're her work of art.

Your image is so sublime in the
photos that it's someone else.

Who is it, then?

I don't want to see her.

I'm old.

I'm old and tired.

I can't do anything anymore.

Open the door.

I've come to make peace.

- No.
- Go away.

You're a monster.

That's fine.
There are other ambitious girls.

Open up.

I have your gift.

She mustn't have all those mirrors.

As soon as she gets out of bed,

they cut up her head.
It's no good.

It's not good for her.

Dear God,
please don't let anything happen

to my girls, especially Violetta.

Watch over

her heart and her soul.

Keep evil away from her.

Lord, I'm begging you.

Come with me
to show her my grades.

The principal wants to see her.

No. I'm not allowed.

I'll go no further.

Your face further back...

That's it.

The funeral lover.

Stand up.

Take the pearls.

Thighs closer, close your legs.

Give me bedroom eyes.

Arch back well.

Wear the Yves St. Laurent dress.

Your new model?

Exactly.

Leave me alone.

You're the one barging in here.

For my homework. I can't do them.

You don't want to.
You're being lazy.

You're exceptional,
but ruining it all.

I want to be like everyone.

No one wants that.

No one wants
to be stuck in mediocrity.

That girl just wants
to be looked at.

Her mother paid me.
They'll put up the portrait.

And you gave her my dress.

Put it on if you want to.

I'm going to Apolline's on Sunday.

That'll be the day.

- You won't visit those rustics.
- So, she'll come?

Come on, please.

To play explorers.
Come on.

There's nothing to explore.

You don't play dolls with me.

You'll go if you pose
in the pink dress.

Take off your clothes.

Who's there?

No one. Adults have complained
because you pose naked.

Who's that? Adèle?

Where is Violetta?

My God. What's happening?

Where is Violetta?

I don't know where she is. She left.

Tell me. What's wrong?

Mummy, Violetta brought a cake.

There's our star.

We bought the journal
with the pictures Hanna took of you.

It's very good.

Rémaudière wrote the article.

"Neither child nor woman,
angel nor beast.

Giurgiu created a hybrid reflecting
the uncertainty of the times."

Excuse me.

We'll call someone to help.
You need help.

You're becoming eccentric.

I'm not mad.

Calm down.

You're the mad one.
What's that journal?

- I'm called a whore.
- You're mad.

Why?

I want you to die.

- You don't love me.
- Yes, I do.

I love you, Violetta.

Violetta, I love you.

Loving mothers act differently.

You should thank me
for making you famous.

Luckily the world
doesn't think like you.

You can't be on their side.

I'm done posing nude.

What about film stars?
And statues in gardens? And...

And museum paintings...

Women show themselves off.

Someday you'll leave school.

They'll have other lives and forget.

You don't understand.
I'll never pose again.

You have no right to stop posing.

You've never held me.

You never wanted that.

I want to die.

I want to die with you.

My little girl.

Granny.

We have to clean up
and give back the room.

Don't look at me that way.
Someone has to do it.

Now that Granny's gone,
we're all alone.

Do you think she'll go to Heaven?

Of course.

Where did you put her icons?

I threw them out.

I never understood that religious rubbish.

You're such a mean person.

"Then, with his children
dressed in hides,

"dishevelled, livid,
through the storms,

"Cain fled from before Jehovah.

"As night was falling,
the dark man reached

"the foot of a mount
in a great plain;

"His tired wife and his sons,
out of breath, told him:

"Let us lie on the earth and sleep.

"Cain, awake,
dreamt at the mountain foot,

"his head raised to
the funeral skies

"and saw an eye, open,
in the darkness

"staring at him in the shadows."
Victor Hugo.

That's good.

Now, you'll all leave early.

Wait.

Class is still in session.

I want you to go home

and observe
everything on the street.

Textures, trees, colours, people.
Whatever touches you

until getting home.

Once you sit down,

I'd like you to write
everything you felt.

Understood?

Any questions?

- Can we say what we don't like?
- Yes. Tell a story.

All I want, listen up,

is that you tell a story.
You may go.

What are you doing?

Homework.

They want my custody rights.
They want Violetta.

Who?

A civil judge. A prosecutor.

He wants to put me in prison.

No one will do that.

Who could do this to me, Ernst?

They've submitted a case.

There are ten,
twenty pleas against me.

They denounced my photos.

Do you think it's normal?

You're awful.

Hanna, you went too far
with your daughter.

We tried telling you.

You didn't listen.

I'm with you.

I'll pay for a lawyer.

It'll be bad for my daughter.

Think she'll die?

Of course not.

Only, you have
to tell her the truth.

And you have to face reality.

But, you know I love her.

Too much.

Do you think
they'll take my photographs away?

Do you think so?

They don't understand your images.

But hide the negatives.

Wait until it all goes over.

Something very serious happened.

They may say I'm not your mother.

They saw my photos
and said I'd gone too far.

Who are "they"?

Justice.

We'll be separated?

Yes. Well,
they can't really do that.

Who decides, then?

A children's judge...

who's authorised to decide.

That's how society works.

Aren't you coming to school?

So, this must be the sanctuary.

Have you spoken to her?

No, I wasn't able to.

I'm a social-worker.
I'm in charge

of the investigation.

The judge will take the decision.

I'm only here to help.

She'll see if everything's correct,
if I don't beat or hurt you.

Normally,

your daughter should have been taken into care.

Mrs. Giurgiu, I'm the one
who asked the court

for an investigation.

Take this chance,
Mrs. Giurgiu, and fight.

Show the judge you can raise her.

Shit, I don't want to be locked up.

Sometimes it's better, Violetta.

I've nothing to prove.

You can't photograph her anymore.

- For now.
- No. Until she's no longer a minor.

Violetta must live
like a little girl again.

You must help her.

What do you think, Violetta?
Is your mother capable of that?

I don't know.

Well, then.

Can I see the flat?

Our grandmother
raised her until recently.

But she died a while ago.

I know. My condolences.

The upkeep is artistic too,
Mrs. Giurgiu.

A child's everyday upbringing.

I'll do my best. I promise.

Violetta needs a normal life.

A normal context like everyone else.

Can you show me where you sleep?

There.

If there's financial trouble

You can get benefit.

Call me.

Keep well.

Go to junior school.

And you...

Take down that black satin,

the skulls, the funeral wreaths.

Frankly, it's morbid.

You're becoming

a woman now, no longer
a little girl. It's a shame.

Even if we did more photos,
it wouldn't be the same.

Fortunately, the best has been done.

I'll look after you, dear mother.
I'll make you dinner.

I'll work alone
since I can't photograph you.

It's forbidden.

You're not allowed
to mention photos.

- I have to go.
- What about dinner?

We're broke. We can't pay.

Use our welfare money.

I'm not that miserable.
I'm still alive.

Who do you think I am?

Are you Mr. Léger?

I brought you the photos.

My new newspaper is wonderful.

Violetta's photo
will make the cover.

Here's the money.

See you soon.

What are you doing?

I'm trying to do a self-portrait.

What do you plan to do
with the photos of me?

The erotic photos?

They belong to me.

I'll burn them all someday.

You'll never get them.

What about them?
Can they take them?

What do you mean?

Tear them up?

They've already been published.
They can be copied.

They haven't all been published.

Where are they?

You have no right to do that.

No, but I do it.

Good night, darling.

You're dead to me.

You're no longer my mother.
Understood? You're dead.

It's better
if we don't tell those people much.

Can I ask you a question?

Will we finally lead normal lives?

When you're better, we can.

We can take pictures.

You're mad.

I want to go to the zoo.
I want to have hair all over.

You're mad.

Violetta, calm down. You're insane.

Stop.

Calm down now.

You'll end up badly, girl.

That's not from me.
It's genetic, from men.

They're degenerate.

Get me some
strawberry banana.

Some what?

Strawberry, banana and cream.

Here.

Hold the string tight.

Hello. Can you hear me?

Yes, I can hear you.

I'm in the hallway. Fuck you.

Why don't you go to school?

You should go to school.
It's the law. You know that.

Yes, I know.

Make an effort.
If not, I can't do a thing.

You asked to see me.
What did you have to say?

That I'm a woman now.

And I don't want
to go to school anymore.

And...

Why don't you tear up
my mother's pictures?

Instead of giving me hell.

I'm not authorised.
Only the judge can do that.

Do you want that?

She doesn't seem well.

I brought the
social security paperwork.

Your girl doesn't go to school.

It's very serious.
That's your responsibility.

She's not comfortable in her skin.
She's becoming a teen.

It's not easy for me either.

I live alone.

I have a question. What do you do
with the photographs of her?

The photos are mine.

They belong to the artist.

They've been sold,
reproduced, published.

They belong to everybody.

Can't you stop selling?

I'm a photographer.
I'm for free expression.

Can I go now?

Don't forget your
psychoanalyst appointment.

I'm preparing to shoot with a model.

I have to carry on.
It's my job, Violetta.

Do you understand?

What's this thing?

That's mine.
It's a work I'm doing on myself.

I'm seeing an analyst.
Your mother is lost.

My mother slept with her father.
He raped her.

At birth, no one wanted me.

Not even Granny.
It's a miracle I survived.

They're just fantasies.

Martha is your sister?

I miss my mother.

I miss her.

I miss her terribly.

I miss her.

Your grandfather is...

He's also your father, then.

Who is Granny?

That's not the truth.

If it was, I'd tell you.

Why hide anything?

Alright. Give me the money.

I never want to see your face again,
you big whore.

Can I pray with you
like I did with my granny?

Will you be my granny, then?

I can't.

Please.

You must already have a grandmother.

She's dead.

You can't do that
to your dead grandmother.

You can't replace a grandmother.

Our Lord would not be happy.

Go home.

May God keep you.

Bitch.

My bag.

Hello. I'm Violetta's mother.

Very well. Follow me.

Is that good?

Come here.

Hold on. The left eye isn't even.

Did you make these?

- You like?
- Very much.

You don't have to.

My beer isn't dry.

Your beer is dry. Move your arse.

- Holy cow.
- What?

- Did your old man do that to you?

My old woman.
My old man was pretty cool.

Violetta. Your mother is waiting.

My love.

I love you.