Original subtitles

l want to talk about it.

Those 16 years from the summer of 1980 to March 3rd, 1996.

The 16 years l lived with her.

Are you Yann Andrea?

Yes, l am.

No, you're not. You know that.

The name's mine.

You're nothing.

What will you do with it when l'm dead?

What will you tell them?

Will you tell them l found it?

Will you tell all?

You're lucky.

l'm very good at names.

You don't have to worry.

The whole world will remember it:

Yann Andrea Steiner: a Jew from Brittany.

lt's unforgettable.

l still see your face in the mortuary,

that motionless body.

l can see you, which confirms

your death.

There is no more body.

No body to wash, to feed, to caress

to love, to laugh and cry with.

He thinks he's a writer. That's a good one!

- What's the date? - Sunday, March 3rd, 1996.

And you're dead.

l love all her words without reservation.

And l adore that pen name, that ''nom de plume.''

l don't tell anybody anything. l read. l hide to read.

No one understands the miraculous coincidence between what l read

and who l am.

lt was like love at first sight.

l've never heard your voice, only the voice of your letters.

They're beautiful, always very short,

like cries for help from an unbearable place,

a sort of desert,

the finest letters l ever got, but you'll never know that.

l don't want to see anybody.

l want to be alone.

l'm not sad: it's a happy loneliness,

and l'd rather invent a voice for you.

l'm coming over.

What for?

So we meet.

l'd written her every day for 5 years.

Several times a day, l write all the time.

l didn't expect an answer.

Still, l hoped for one.

It was the summer of our affair.

Between the very young Yann Andrea Steiner

and the woman who wrote books.

Who was old, and alone like him

in a summer the size of Europe.

ln your letters you first wrote

the name of the place where they were written,

the hour or the time or sunshine, rain, or cold.

Or alone.

Everything that you wanted to tell me before revealing

the terrible, enlightening fact,

the decision you'd made:

to meet me before you killed yourself.

lt's Yann.

We can meet in 2 hours if you want.

l'm working.

lt's hard.

l'm in a bind.

Call me a bit later.

Call around 7. Bring a bottle of red wine.

The best grocery store is in rue des Bains.

- Did you understand? - Yes.

- Are you sure? - Yes.

lt's at the end. You won't get lost.

Beside a tall mirror.

lt's me, Yann.

lt's Yann.

There's a bell.

l can't hear knocks.

Don't stay there, come in. l can't see you.

There.

Thanks.

lt's been ages since l drank wine.

l felt like it.

Hearing you on the phone,

l felt like drinking with you.

lt's very frightening

to hear someone call you and say l'm coming over.

l've lived alone for ten years.

With Anne-Marie Stretter and the Vice-Consul.

And the beggar woman.

l can't get rid of her. She's still the Queen of the Ganges.

That's how it is.

Here, l'll let you do it.

lt's funny.

That suit doesn't suit you at all.

May l?

Just what l thought.

Flannel.

You must be dying of heat.

Yes, a bit.

This is July.

During the day l close my shutters.

l don't let the sun in.

lt's too intrusive when you write.

Don't stand there you make me dizzy.

Mind if l smoke?

No.

l quit.

Cigarettes and alcohol were too much.

l quit 6 years ago.

l could hardly walk, l suffocated. It was awful.

l don't know what to say.

Then don't say anything.

Now that l see you better,

you look very elegant in that suit.

A moment ago, it was all l saw.

The fabric.

And your hands.

You have beautiful hands.

Hands are very important.

And your voice.

lt's amazing.

l thought l knew it.

l was sure l'd invented it. Well, l hadn't!

ls that a let-down?

No.

lt's life.

That's exactly what life is like.

Always full of surprises.

Yann...

Proust came here with his grandmother.

Before the Grand Hotel of Cabourg.

He was on the side facing the sea.

l'd rather face the rear.

Facing the sea day and night is unbearable.

Come look.

l love those lights, this balcony,

those crystalline lights...

What do you want to tell me?

You want to tell me something.

Will you ever write Theodora's story?

l don't know...How could l know?

lt's hard to know why, almost impossible.

Theodora is what l don't know about you.

l know all the rest. l've read everything.

Everything you've written.

For 3 years l've waited

for you to write the story of Theodora.

Don't tell me a thing.

l have nothing to tell you. It's an unfinished novel.

l found it one day in a closet.

l thought l'd burnt it.

Theodora's dead everyone's forgotten her,

even l have.

Don't you want to go to the Central?

lt's a very good restaurant.

l have to go over my piece for ''Lib?ration''. Come back later.

Around 11 is fine.

Catherine, it's Yann. Are you working?

No, l'm back in Paris.

l don't know, l just decided to.

l don't know, tomorrow morning.

No, l'm in a little hotel near St Lazare station.

No, l'm not weird.

Stop saying that l'm weird.

Bye, big kiss.

l rang.

lt has a mind of its own.

The janitor said there's a bad contact.

You any good at electricity?

Not really.

Doesn't surprise me.

- Had a nice meal? - Every place was full.

l should have known. They all are, at this time of year.

l have some leftover chicken. Go sit down.

lt's cooked in vegetable broth.

That's why it isn't dry.

And it keeps longer.

l eat some every day.

Tomorrow l'll go out, it's market day.

l'll make a big soup to last all week.

- You like soup? - l adore it.

You're right.

Nothing's better than good soup. You like to cook?

No, l'm hopeless at it.

Because you lack imagination.

Really?

Of course.

lntelligence functions everywhere.

Writing, gardening, love...

There's a little left.

No, really.

l'm fine.

Did you finish your article?

l re-read it. It's not bad.

Tomorrow, l may find it unreadable. l'll show it to you.

Deadlines terrify me. l have to respect them.

l write for the outside you understand?

Like you, you came from the outside.

lt's terrifying to see you here.

And to want you to stay here.

Yes...

What do you mean, yes?

Don't say it stupidly to please me.

When l say terrifying, l mean it.

Only l can know that!

You show up and make yourself at home.

Not at all...

That's how it always happens.

And l'm already feeding you. l'm mad.

l'll go get the pur?e of chestnuts.

All the hotels are full. You can sleep in my son's bedroom.

There are two beds. And if you want to go out...

You know, Yann...

it never happens.

Life never lives up to what you write.

That's why l stopped writing books.

lt suddenly stopped one day.

l didn't try to understand, there was no point.

l'll let you make your own bed.

- You know how to make a bed? - No.

- You don't tuck them in? - No.

Too stifling.

Yes, it is hot.

You dread mosquitoes?

l've known them all my life.

l lived so long in the rice-paddies.

l'll let you get to sleep.

l sleep badly.

l used to take tranquilizers. It was no help.

l think l was fighting the idea...

of a foreign body...

The best thing is a good bottle of wine.

lt knocks you out.

But l gave that up.

l gave that up, too.

That's better...

l'm ensconced with you in this apartment.

l landed in this affair without warning,

as if it had started long ago.

l can't do a thing about it, nor can you.

That's how it is.

Then there was that incredibly gentle voice.

The voice of your letters, of my life.

l've never seen a bathtub like that.

- It's a monument. - A historical monument, yes.

Bathtubs scare me.

l only take showers.

lt's to do with my childhood: in the jungle,

there were no bathtubs.

l'll make more coffee and get down to work.

Of course, you can't type?

Yes, l can. With two fingers.

We'll see.

How long have we known each other?

Since yesterday.

Since l've been writing you.

Since l've read everything you've written.

Since forever.

No...

Since before forever.

That's enough, be quiet.

Your empty phrases don't impress me.

l've known guys who rattled off my work by heart.

They didn't stay long.

Why did l let you come over?

Why did l agree to it? l'm mad.

Have a nice bath. Take your time.

What do you want?

There.

This is my room...

l call it the black room.

This is where l'm alone.

Come sit beside me.

The typewriter dates from World War Il.

Think you can handle it?

l think so.

Last night, l made a few notes.

Did you hear the wind at 6 AM?

lt felt like a storm then it calmed down.

Today, it looks like rain all day long.

Are you ready?

First of all...

Go on, type: ''First of all...''

Apparently, nothing new has happened these last days,

nothing but time passing.

lt's crazy, l've never seen anyone type so fast with two fingers.

Nothing but time passing...

lt's typed.

This morning there's also a big white cargo ship.

Little by little, something is happening...

- l made a typo. - We'll correct it later.

Above all, let's not talk.

What was l saying? l've forgotten.

''Something is happening...''

Right, that's it.

Once again hunger has struck Africa.

lmages of it were shown on TV.

TV always shows hunger accurately,

and we view it passionately.

There are no more children

no more elderly, or ages.

Their looks are unfocused.

They view the camera or the ground indifferently...

l'm here and l type words, sentences,

l don't try to understand.

We don't exist any more.

There are no names any more, no authors' names

what is happening is that some writing is getting done.

Most of them can still walk

but very slowly...

Where did you find that umbrella? It suits you.

lt suits us.

We'll have a light lunch,

l'll make leek and potato soup, will that do?

l hope you like leeks. l love them.

So do l.

People who don't like leeks mystify me.

But they exist! l assure you they do!

l must phone. Won't take long.

Phone later, from home.

Later will be too late.

Who do you have to phone?

A friend, l have to tell her...

- Tell her what? - Nothing.

l'll join you in the market.

lf you phone to women all over...

What's all this about?

l'm sure your friends are totally hopeless.

Keep your Chinese umbrella, l don't need it.

Catherine, it's Yann. How are you?

No, l'm not in Paris any more.

Never mind, l just wanted to tell you something.

Look...

l won't be coming back to Caen.

You can sell my things to pay my share of the rent.

l'm not kidding, l'm dead serious.

Big kiss.

l was worried.

Where were you?

l changed my mind.

l bought a Vietnamese salad.

You'll see, it's exquisite.

There's a new Chinese caterer beside the bank.

You see where? Opposite the Casino.

l ran a bit.

Take off your shoes, you'll get sand everywhere.

There's lots in my socks.

Take your socks off. l don't mind.

l'm hungry.

- You too? - Yes.

Did you make your phone call?

lt's done.

Very well.

Help yourself.

lt's a spare, so you won't have

to ring.

Don't try to understand. You won't manage.

lf it bothers you, you can leave.

Close the door

and l'll be rid of you.

Taste this salad.

lt's special.

The dressing is perfect.

No.

Please.

Don't cry.

Yann, you're not all spirit.

Not at all.

Love me, that's all you have to do.

l know it for your sake.

Come on, don't be shy.

l have a body, l'll show you.

Caress my body.

We went to bed when the moon was in the dark blue sky.

We only made love the next day.

All the women in my books come from Lol V. Stein.

They all lack prudence and foresight.

They all mess up their lives.

l decided we always write on the dead body of the world.

And on the dead body of love.

That's exactly it. Write it.

l hear your voice say a word, then it appears on a sheet of paper.

l don't understand.

l'm afraid to stop you, to make you repeat it,

to lose the word.

What did you say?

Nothing, l said nothing.

lf you've written all your life,

it only teaches you to write, nothing more.

You're not spared anything.

l don't know, l've forgotten.

What was that last sentence?

''The dead body of love...''

Yes, that's it, it's magnificent.

And private yachts in ports

are moored with chains to dead bodies.

No, that's an expression.

The calm of the night followed the wind

but the calm did not come from the wind dropping.

Yes, that's it.

What's the time?

Ten past four.

l thought it was much later.

Let's go look at the sea.

What are you doing?

Reading the last sentence again.

''Hold me close and hold me fast...''

''The magic spell you cast...''

You know that song?

''This is la vie en rose.''

''When you kiss me, heaven sighs

''And though l close my eyes...

''l see la vie en rose...''

You really sing off key!

l'll teach you. It doesn't matter.

Keep your eyes on the road.

- You, too. - l am.

l'm sick of driving.

l can't help you.

You'll have to learn.

First, your feet must learn to feel

the give and take between the accelerator and the clutch.

Move off slowly in first gear...

You ease in the clutch

slide in the gear.

Slowly let out the clutch, put pressure on the accelerator,

then you'll start to move forward.

- You feel it? - l think so.

- Don't pretend. - No, l do.

You say you do, but we're not moving!

Once more. Start the engine!

First put it in neutral!

There. Ignition.

Go on, but don't dump us in the sea.

Stop there.

- What about neutral? - Right, neutral.

l'd better let you take over.

Shall we have a drink?

This place is incredible.

People dancing away the afternoon.

Later, we'll stroll along the river.

l love poplars, don't you?

They don't yield to the wind, they play with it.

They have something musical, fluid.

You agree?

Yann, where are you?

- Am l talking to myself? - No.

You're incredible.

l say fascinating things, and you don't listen.

l do. You spoke of poplars.

What did l say about them?

You're hopeless.

lt's a real dance hall. Good thing we stopped.

- A double whisky. - Wine for me.

A jug of C?tes du Rh?ne.

Usually a modest C?tes du Rh?ne

is better than an unknown Bordeaux.

l don't dare ask if you can dance.

l love to dance.

l can't help it. l'm a superb dancer.

People who can't dance, who never move

are disturbing.

Writing is a bit like knowing how to move.

A way of dancing.

l wish it would never end.

ls there any wine left at home?

Yes, l got some this morning.

Otherwise l won't get to sleep.

l can tell l won't get to sleep.

Sometimes l sit for hours on the edge of my bed, like an idiot.

lt's the noise inside...

of my heart beating in my ears,

when l lie down.

That's all l hear:

the sound of my heart.

A time-bomb ticking away.

l'm a bit cold, let's go home.

You'll see.

lt's the loveliest song in the world.

No, we'll never return

to where you said ''l love you''.

No, we'll never return.

Now it just wouldn't do.

No, we'll never go back

There's no point any more.

No, we'll never go back

like the years before.

Capri's not for me...

lt's so wonderful.

Capri's not for me.

l know it would only spell gloom.

Capri's not for me.

Yet that's where my first love did bloom.

Capri's not for me.

Now it would only spell gloom.

Never again will we view

where you said ''l love you''.

Never again to that shore

like the years before.

l wished l dared say

let's try a fresh start,

but l can't see a way.

You want to keep us apart.

l'm going to my bedroom.

- Want me to come? - No.

Leave!

Go away! Leave at once!

l don't want you here. It's too painful, l can't take it!

Go on!

Get dressed!

- None of that's mine. - l don't know what's yours.

You have to go home.

You don't belong here.

l don't know you.

l don't know who you are.

Before l forget...

Take this with you.

l'm through with wine. It makes me sick.

You know it and you push me to! drink.

There, it's done.

Now give me back the key.

Thanks.

lt's too late for a train. Take a taxi. Here's 20 francs.

l'm being generous.

Please don't cry.

lt's not time for that.

Yann! Take that!

What kind of a guy are you?

l throw you out, and you come back.

You have no dignity at all.

Poor guy.

You didn't lose my record?

No.

And l wanted to listen to it.

You came back to kill me, right?

Tell me!

Be frank!

The wind rose toward evening, chasing off people, birds, and colors.

A passerby said: ''The summer's already over...''

Yann is never here in the apartment we share

by the sea.

Now where were you hanging out?

You didn't sleep here! Where were you?

l'll go down. l forgot coffee.

Answer me!

What do you want?

You don't even know what you want!

Turn it off!

Turn it off, l said!

You're pathetic!

What about you? Have you seen yourself?

You look like a whore!

The whore of the Normandy coast!

Go back where you came from.

l don't know where you're from. Who cares?

You're a complete nobody.

You understand? Go pack your bag!

l no longer want to see you. This time for good.

l'll go buy coffee.

- l won't let you duck out. - Let go!

l don't love you any more. That's all!

- It's over! - Let go of me!

You yell: you're scared, like a dog.

Don't kill me!

l won't be mean any more. l swear it.

You can do what you want.

Even go out drinking without me. l don't care.

Do anything you want.

l'm not mean, l'm intelligent.

Why do you spend all day writing?

Everyone's given up on you, you're crazy.

You're an idiot!

All the tables are littered with your papers.

l love life.

No, Yann.

No.

l'm telling you, Yann, that l love life.

Even the way it is.

Here, right now.

lt's right.

Those are the right words.

But we forget that.

We don't type it.

It's between us,

between us and life.

Are we out of wine?

Read the last sentence again.

''When you cried,

''it was for yourself,

''and not the admirable impossibility of reaching her

''through the difference that separates you...''

Yes, that's it.

That's exactly it.

l don't know if this story's any good.

Maybe it isn't at all.

Nobody knows.

Where are you going?

Please stay with me.

We drank since the very first day.

Since our eyes met, as the door opened,

the first smile, the first kiss we've pleased each other.

We're here, together. Yes, forever.

lt's true, Yann, l'm not lying, that's how it is.

l don't know who's writing. Or what it means: to write.

Writing makes you savage, it's unrelenting.

Your body must be strong to write.

lt's something

that probably has to do with love.

l'll make it.

l have to finish this piece, you understand?

l sense we're not far from the end.

We'll invent something.

l've found it.

We'll call this book:

''The Malady of Death''.

We're together at the seaside.

l watch you with that same passion.

You close your eyes and imagine that l'm there.

How can l resist this?

Someone so childish who wants everything at once.

My friends and acquaintances are delighted by your sweetness.

You're my best calling card.

But your sweetness reminds me of my death,

the death you wish for me, without knowing it.

Yann, tell me. Where are you?

l'm here.

You see, l'm writing. l'm in Paris.

l think of you. l don't know how.

l'm typing on a white Olivetti typewriter

with a black keyboard. l'm doing...

what you did your whole life.

No, that's not all, because l'm here writing that l'll never,

never ever, forget you.

Late at night,

sometimes...

l wish l could hear you

call my name...

Here he is, Yann Andrea.

This book is dedicated to him.

What do you do in life?

Nothing.

What you just said is wonderful.

You should stick to it: nothing.

lt takes guts to say things like that.

He does nothing, and he says it.

That's what one should do, right?

She checks everything,

she never asks what l'd like.

lt doesn't occur to her.

l'm exclusively hers, to the point of exhaustion,

of disgust.

lt's unbearable.

lt's Yann.

Here goes...

l'm through with you.

l can't stand you and your nonsense,

- all your nonsense... - Stop it. You're drunk.

Tell me where you are and l'll fetch you.

We'll have a drink and split up for good, if you insist.

l agree, l'm impossible to live with.

Living with a writer is impossible.

But what will you do? You have no house or friends.

Only l can put up with someone like you,

who says nothing, does nothing.

Except typing, and trying to be at your side.

That's true.

But you don't need to write, you don't have that need.

You're so lucky.

Mind settling?

Maybe we're alike.

No, l don't think so.

l'm much smarter than you, that's obvious.

Why are you making this scene?

l pay for your hotel, you're broke!

l'm leaving.

What for? You'll come back.

Let's go see the Seine.

l want to be alone. Understand?

What can l do?

This world is unbearable. l want nothing, not even you.

l can't go on, l'm a total failure,

nothing makes any sense, it's all downhill...

l'm not dead.

l didn't follow you to where you are.

But l think of you every day.

l'm doing what you ordered me to do: writing.

The way we live here, in Paris or the country,

or anywhere in the world, nothing happens,

nothing exists except this.

What winds up on a page.

She stops writing,

thinks she won't make it,

that she can't write,

that she'll never write again.

Why write this story?

l have nothing else to write.

Our affair keeps me from writing anything else.

Why tell me that?

l tell you everything.

lf you can't take it any more...

you don't have to stay.

Tonight, tomorrow.

Go back to Paris pay for your room and leave.

You have nowhere to go.

That's why you won't leave.

Not entirely.

l like this apartment, and my room.

Why should l leave it?

True.

There's no reason why you should.

Do you love me?

' If l'd never written a book would you love me?

You don't love me, you know that.

lt's what l write.

At least admit that.

l feel better.

We'll make it.

We'll get to the end of this story.

This man trying to get used to this foreign body,

to those breasts,

that perfume,

to beauty.

A man who's trying to love.

He pays her every night to try to love her.

lt's a great idea.

Everyone will love it, you'll see.

We may turn it into a play, a film.

We'll dazzle them!

Why not an opera?

Sure.

Precisely.

Duras is back on the track.

We'll take over the world, we'll make lots of money!

l'm hungry.

Tomorrow, we'll go shop in the village.

What time is it?

l don't know...

5AM.

You'll see, Yann.

l'll become a legend.

l'm very talented,

that's a fact.

The most amazing, the most fabulous thing

is that it works.

The books get written, the plays and the movies are hits,

all over the world.

l made it myself.

lt's the best jam,

not too sweet,

with a touch of lemon.

Eat, Yann.

Eat for both of us.

l can't swallow anything anymore.

My stomach has been burnt out by wine.

Later, l'll call Jean-Pierre.

l'll ask him to come.

l'm not sick.

l'm an alcoholic.

And l can't stand doctors.

There's nothing anyone can do,

no one can help me.

l'm at an age where one can die, today, tomorrow...

Never...

Get that into your head.

Don't make so much noise when you eat.

l'm sorry, it's the rusks. They crackle.

Know what you are? A big zero!

You think that's funny!

You're really hopeless.

A big zero!

l've stopped eating

because life has nothing more for me, that's all.

You never recover from that.

Where are you going?

To try and get some sleep.

Really?

lf you don't feel well, call me.

Come sleep with me.

Don't leave me alone.

She wants to be the favorite. The only one.

For everyone.

And l'm her favorite.

We derive immense pleasure from each other

forever and ever,

for ever.

You think l'll die tonight?

As long as you talk about death, you won't die.

Go on.

Say ''l'll die'' again.

Repeat it and you won't die.

That's not a bad idea.

And there's love, too...

For others...

Love...

Stop it...

Love with all its oompah...

Are you crazy?

l think l've passed out.

The last 20 pages are typed and corrected.

l couldn't go into a clinic before finishing this piece.

lt was too important.

Now l've made up my mind.

You can call Jean-Pierre.

l agree to the clinic.

Nobody must know she's here.

No problem. Shall we hook up the TV?

Not yet. l'll tell you.

We'll take you to her room, it's 2327.

Please turn on the TV.

lt isn't hooked up.

On the first day, l'm not sure it's wise.

Dr. Sadoul will decide.

l'm not in prison!

l'll stay or leave if l want to!

Who do you think you are?

Donald Duck!

Sorry, l couldn't find any ice.

We're off to a great start.

Don't you want to take off your coat?

You smoke!

True. Every day l plan to quit and then...

How many a day?

2 packs of Gitanes. l know, it's insane.

Cigarettes are awful.

Most people quit too late.

- Right, Yann? - Yes.

lf you need anything,

Dr. Sadoul won't be long.

What are you doing, Yann?

Putting away your toilet things.

You noticed her black eyes? They're superb.

But everything else

is dead, flabby.

As if her body had given up, it's very strange.

Yes.

Yes...No. Thrilling conversation!

l've put everything away.

Go get me some wine, l can't hold out any longer.

Please...

You're here...

l'm glad...

Has he gone?

Yann, we have to do something.

We mustn't let them come in.

l want my room to be locked.

He came to steal my rings,

a small man with a goatee,

wearing a white smock.

He wanted to interview me.

Really?

For what newspaper?

l don't know.

He said medical science was interested in my body.

He wants to write a thesis about my body.

Makes no sense.

None at all.

l'm not mad.

That man was a phony doctor, a phony journalist.

Everything is phony.

We have to put my rings in the safe, immediately.

We'll do it later, l promise.

They're going to kill me.

And you'll be their accomplice.

You want my death, l know it.

That's all you're waiting for, my death.

No one can stand my existence,

l can hardly stand it myself.

lt's Yann.

Yes, it's OK.

Everything's fine, just as we expected.

No, l'm sorry. No one must know where she is.

That's how it is.

No, l said that's impossible. Good-bye.

She was in the lobby, acting violent, looking for you.

That's normal it's the treatment.

Really? That's normal?

Who are you? l don't know you.

lt's me, Yann.

l'm lost.

Why did you tie me up?

lt wasn't me.

lt was...

Go get the car, we're leaving.

l came in a taxi.

You never think of anything.

This is no way to live.

You know why they tied me up?

To stop me from writing.

That's how they're going to kill me.

For someone who has no imagination, l congratulate you.

lt's the perfect crime.

Bravo!

Anyway, it's too late.

l'm dead.

Stop pretending you're dead.

We must inform my mother.

She has to know that l'm dead.

l'll find you some paper and a pen.

l'm not pretending, you are!

Go on! Get up!

l didn't sleep a wink.

l have to tell you something.

You're more and more confused you need help.

l'll go do my ablutions.

You may order breakfast.

Oatmeal and two eggs and bacon.

lt's too early, they don't serve before 8 AM.

That's incredible, this is a 4-star hotel!

And this blanket smells of dogs, l can't sleep in that stench.

l refuse to pay my bill, l've made up my mind!

lf l went to prison, l'd take a dictionary with me.

One forgets the meaning of words so fast!

We have to get back to work, we've wasted enough time.

The holidays are over! Right, Yann?

l'd forgotten...

all those trees...

that green...

How can one forget all that?

To live without such beauty...

isn't possible...

Not to see those trees,

the woods...

The world is incredible.

Tomorrow l'll go to the hairdresser.

If tomorrow l died,

if l killed myself,

you'd write a little book in 2 weeks. l know it.

No, Yann.

Don't say that.

Not a little book.

A book!

The text will be ready soon.

Yes, l'm fine.

Everything's fine.

l'm going to write at last.

l'll try and finish that story about Ernesto.

Maybe a film...

Yes, l'd like that...

For her, now every moment is survival, an emergency.

The present could carry off everything:

me, her, the whole world.

You're writing, you're unscathed.

The words are coming, and l type them,

and we laugh a lot.

Ladur?e's canap?s are the best.

The macaroons, too.

Out of this world!

What do you want?

A lemonade.

Two lemonades, please.

One minute. What brand is it?

- What brand? - It's lemonade.

l want to pick my own brand!

lt's very good.

We'll see.

l want to taste it.

Thank you.

lt's excellent.

Check out the brand. Let's get it for the house.

Thanks.

Homemade.

You know, that's all you have to do.

To write.

Anything. Go to it, don't be afraid.

You have a wonderful subject matter, it's pure gold.

l'm telling you.

So don't waste time: write!

There's no need to kill yourself.

Don't be a fool.

What's this subject matter?

Me!

Maybe l shouldn't have gone back to sleep,

l should have listened more been more present,

loved her more. One never loves enough.

One doesn't realize the last day is close.

One can't because you talk aIl night.

One ought to...

Aren't you cold like that, stark naked?

A little chat can't do any harm.

We need money for the winter, we'll do a book.

l've already found the title.

''The Book That Never Was''.

l was always very good at titles.

Tell me the truth tell me what you really think.

This book...

Will we manage to finish it?

You say the same thing for each book.

You've got cold hands.

Or is it me, l don't know.

l need to sleep.

l woke up with a sentence in my head.

Maybe l already used it, but l can't remember where.

lt's very simple.

This is the exact sentence:

''One day she isn't there any more.

''You wake up and she's not there any more''.

Does it remind you of anything?

Maybe in ''The Malady of Death'',

or in ''Yann Andrea Steiner''?

Help me, l'm sure you'll remember.

Then l'll tell you my dream, it's an amazing dream.

- You have to write it down. - l'm sleepy!

Are you deaf? Screw your dreams!

l'm sick of living with a senior citizen!

l need a new guy, and fast!

This isn't a life!

lt's hopeless!

There are little animals everywhere, get rid of them!

Hit them! Kill them!

Where are they?

ln my bed.

They're lamias.

They're harmless, they know who l am.

But hit them hard!

How did they get in? The doors are closed.

The windows too, it's incredible.

What exactly are lamias?

l don't really know.

But that's what...

That's what they're called.

Look behind you, on the mantelpiece.

Get rid of them all!

l can't see anything.

lf it goes on, we'll call the police.

And there...

That dead dog.

Who did it?

Throw it out the window on to passersby.

So everyone understands.

''Lamia:

''monster of ancient times alleged to eat children.

''lt had a woman's head and a snake's body.''

lt's very strange.

l had no knowledge of that word.

l'm fine.

l manage.

My hands hardly shake anymore.

Did you know that Schubert refused to confess before he died?

No, l didn't know.

You're a big zero!

All my books deal with God,

but nobody notices that.

What time is it?

Six o'clock.

lt's awful.

When night begins to fall, l always want a glass of wine.

l don't tell you, so you won't feel unhappy.

What can we do?

Nothing, wait till it's daytime.

Very clever.

We're alone in the St Benoit apartment.

We're waiting for the last day, that's all.

We know you'll die soon now.

No point in lying to you.

Let's talk about our love.

Let's find the words for that.

Maybe there aren't any?

l want to see the sea.

lt will do you good.

And me, too.

Go get the car.

l'll wait for you.

We have to work.

We have to write a book.

A last book.

Please forgive me,

for everything.

Last night, in your sleep, you spoke of seafood.

What a sight!

Don't you want to eat?

But it's fine,

it's truly fine.

Aren't you hungry?

Not really.

So it's just a prop?

- You smoke too much. - Yes, surely.

Want some water?

You know, Yann.

Maybe my mother Ioved me after all.

She couldn't say it, but she did.

You were so different from your brothers.

Your wanting to be a writer scared her.

That's true.

lt is scary.

But in my last books, l exonerated everyone,

my whole family of crazies.

Even Pierre, her favorite, even him.

Maybe that's what love is.

And now...

You can't imagine how tired l am.

The whole last year of your life,

you saw death coming with unbearable clarity.

l'd never heard her say those words before:

''You can't imagine how tired l am.''

You're not really ill.

You'll die of exhaustion.

Of having examined the world too closely,

of drinking too much whisky, red and white wine,

all kinds of alcohol,

of smoking too much,

of loving too much, all kinds of lovers,

of ranting too much against injustice,

against unbearable poverty, the lepers of Calcutta,

and the rich getting richer.

l have no more mouth, no face.

lt's horrible.

What day is it?

Thursday, February 29.

- What time is it? - 1 PM.

Write, Yann...

Thursday, February 29,

1 PM...

Yann...

l love you...

l'm leaving.

Farewell.

Why do you say that?

Leaving for where?

Duras is over.

l won't write any more.

That's all.

Leave.

Go to your room.

Let me die alone.

Like everyone else.

Go sleep for an hour.

When you come back, it will be done.

Go on.

Don't kiss me.

''Come, l'll show you.''

Say it differently.

''Come, l'll show you, my love.''

That's it.

That's the way.

That's how you have to write it.