All language subtitles for HAUDEPIN Didier - Le Plus Bel +ége

Those Were The Days

The story is set in a
Parisian high school,

1st and 2nd year students
in preparatory classes

aim for higher literature,

prepping for École Normale Supérieure
after their degree.

Other characters in
the film belong

to the preparatory classes of the
Saint-Cyr Military School.

Boarders or day students,
these students defend

their sometimes antagonistic
traditions with a fervor

that peaks during hazing
rituals, the secrets of which

rarely pass through the
padded doors of the dormitories.

The East German
government has decided

to open all its borders,
Berlin Wall included.

On TV, East Germans simultanously
hear and read the official statement

Mom!

Mom, it's time!

Permission to
undertake private travel to

foreign countries can
now be requested...

Come on.
Let's wake up. No sleeping!

Are you done here?

Wipe your mouth.

Mom, you'll give me money to pay Moreau?

Hurry up!
Get your bag ready, we're going.

Mom, you'll give me money to pay Moreau?

...they rush,
they run, they are in groups

with family, with friends.

They carry babies on
their shoulders. Some are laughing,

some are crying, others are
popping the corks of the bottles

they brought to celebrate the
event, to celebrate the unique...

Jed, you have the money
for school cafeteria? - Yes

Can't you stay here nicely?

Be careful!
- Don't worry, I'll watch over them.

et alacris: which
stirs, which is full of energy,

energy, cheerful,
lively, ardent, joyful

root: el or il, normal degree

root: ol or ul, inflected degree

300,000 demonstrators
marched peacefully in Leipzig,

an impressive
procession of discipline

and determination
last night [...]

Night has fallen on Leipzig, the
Karl Marx Platz, lit by powerful

streetlights, has become the
domain of the demonstrators.

They are tens of thousands,
gathered behind banners on

which one can read: freedom
to travel, freedom to [...]

9th november 1989, resistance video

Who does the cleaning
of the cleaning lady?

A third of life spent on homeworks,

the second earning a living,

and the third enriching
travel agencies... if at all.

One has to remind themselves
that the first is the best.

Youth.

You are 29.

Hanging from a cliff.

I walk on your hands.

If you let go of one,
you let go of the other.

In the second quarter,
you'll be down to 22.

Some of you, in fact,
having given up on your own.

Barely 18 will advance to "khâgne".

Only 15 months separate
you from the entrance exam

for the École Normale
Supérieure on Rue d'Ulm.

You are not potential victims

of some competitive exam
logic that would be,

as I sometimes hear it said,

'we keep the best',

'we discard the others'

or they discard themselves.

It would be too easy.

You are in charge.

Each of you will one day have to
answer Saint Augustine's question:

"What have you done with your talent?"

Claude, I love you.

I love you.

Do I also have a nickame in the dorm?

Naturally, just like the others.

Which one?

Cause you give a hard-on
to every guy you dance with.

It requires following them,
mirroring their movements, their bodies.

I even do it sometimes
for rather clumsy guys.

Not always beautiful.

In short, you're too old
to play with dolls

so you play the
good-hearted whore.

Your brother.

Alright, I'll let you settle up.
- What about your independance?

You who will pay the price for it

Men only desire the women they pay for.

At a path's bend a filthy carcase lay

Upon a pebbly bed?

Yet thou shalt be as vile a carrion

As this infection dire,

O bright star of my eyes,
my nature's sun,

My angel, my desire!

Thank you.

The papers you gave earlier this year
tell me all about you.

I'm not talking about the content.

But about your temperament.

That is, and those who
have read La Bruyère know:

about your character.

That is, what you have done.

About your temperament.

Generally, not much.

Your answers are limited
to a single word.

No subject, no verb, no complement.

Spelling mistakes abound.

Your vocabulary is below what one would
expect from minimum wage earners.

It's disheartening to realize
that you can't write.

Parrots! You just copy pages.

You're in hypokhâgne!

You don't eat?

For fuck sake mom,
I have an exam to prepare for.

I want to pass it, I need to work!

Dammit!

You didn't close your eyes.

I cannot always close my eyes.

I want a man who closes his eyes.

It means you're letting go.

That you trust.

You are all stingy.

Men are stingy.

You are asking for too much.

I'm not bored with you.

But this overt sentimentality
is in very poor taste.

Sorry for being obnoxious,
but I warned you.

I'm averse to love letters.

I don't like having my arm twisted.

Fascist!

You little bastard!

I don't give a shit
that you didn't read the letters.

You don't even deserve them.

Axel, you poor provincial dandy.

If no woman has ever dared
to tell you the truth to your face,

I will come back to tell you.

I really like the scene
with the poor man. Don't you?

I...

Act III, Scene II.

In the woods, Don Juan encounters
a hermit who asks him for charity.

He takes out a coin from his purse.
It catches his eye.

He'll give it to him
if the beggar is willing to swear.

Provided you swear!
Swear ever so little! But swear!

But swear!

So how...?

Read it, don't delay.

Up until the other time in
tenth grade, I imagined that

Racine lived during the Middle
Ages because he spoke of love.

Molière at the end of the 19th century
because he talked about money.

And Corneille only in the 17th century.

In these places, not knowing is suicide.

Here, you must know before you learn.

It's impossible.

Don't hesitate to form alliances.
Use your former teachers.

May I have your name?
- Delphine Le Guevec

Delphine.

Delphine. Delphinos. Dolphin.

No, no, no, wait, rather...

Delphine, Delphines, the dragon guardian
of the Oracle of Delphi.

You'll make it.

Do you come from this village?

Yes, sir.

And do you live there?

Yes, sir.

What is your name?

Charlotte, at your service.

Ah!

what a beauty!

Sir, you make me quite ashamed.

So, is it not possible
for you to be at ease?

Alas! sir,

I am in the greatest need in the world.

Claude!

You're pissing me off.

Vertigo

Le Guevec Delphine, HK2

Good morning.

Miss Le Guevec,

Mr. Larziz and Mr. Lavoix,
you will come see me at the end of hour.

Competition must
prevail in this class,

but under no circumstances
its bastardized avatar.

Competition?
Reserve that for your rival:

Louis-Le-Grand Secondary School.

1st Year Dormitory

Ten more pushups.

Put your back into it this time!

This guy is such a pansy.

What the hell are you doing here?

Girls have no right coming in here.

I was looking for someone.

A boy.

Maybe he's a boarder.
- And pigs might fly!

Maybe he's in this dormitory.

First year? Second?

A Khâgneux? A Chartiste? A Cyrard?

I know his first name.

What's his name?

Axel.

There's no one by that name in the dorm.

This boy, why are you looking for him?

You're in love?
- No.

You're from Henri-IV?

Yes.
- Which class?

HK2

There are other dorms.
If you want I can take a look.

No. You don't have to, thanks.

Those from East Germany
are welcomed with open arms,

but just wait
until they all arrive.

Poor things, they were claustrophobic.
Imagine their gloomy avenue there.

Hand on the gobelet!
Goblet two fingers from the hatches!

- Have you heard about
the suicide from last week?

There was a suicide?
At the high school?

Yeah, a girl from "khâgne".

It's awful.

Did you know?
- No.

How did it happen?

Well, last monday, apparently.

Late in the afternoon
next to the library.

She threw herself from the top of
the dormitory's main staircase.

She smashed completely on the ground.

10 minutes later,
nothing left.

Were the cops there?
- It's not something you broadcast.

They cover it up.

- In Japan, there are
25000 suicides a year.

Those Cyrards are so stupid.

Classic hazing.

You know when a Cyrard passes by you
and goes 'bzzz, bzzz'?

They are showing their deepest contempt.

Typically, it's directed
at freshmen or "Pékin" students.

- "Pékin"?

We are civils and
"Pékins" to them.

On the contrary,
"Psss" shows admiration.

Rather directed at
"Napoléon" and "Saint Patron" schools.

- For girls.

Before handing back your
Latin translations, and yes,

you'll have to wait a bit
longer, my dear Fontanille.

I would like to discuss
a tragic event with you

that took place at Henri-IV
about ten days ago.

I'm not the type to bury
my head in the sand,

nor am I the kind who
just doesn't give a damn.

It's about the suicide
of Claude Alonçon,

or rather, Claudine d'Alonçon.

Because, much to her chagrin,

she had a distinctly
feminine first name.

And the name
of a prominent French family.

Claudine was my student
three years ago.

We often had stormy
disagreements which,

I realize in retrospect,

were caused solely
by her fundamental indiscipline

and my desire to tame it.

Claude had bouts of frenzy,

which were offset by periods
of deep depression.

Her two consecutive failures in
the rue d'Ulm exams didn't help matters.

For the second failure, she brought it
upon herself, deliberately provoking the

oral examination jury by accusing Balzac
of being anti-Semitic. A sin of pride.

One only succumbs to oneself.

Don't forget that those
who shine today aren't

necessarily those who
will be happy tomorrow.

But regardless, you will
all find yourselves again later.

Delphine. Delphinos. Dolphin.

Delphine, Delphines, the dragon guardian
of the Oracle of Delphi.

You'll make it.

The conspirators

You're letting yourself go.

It's been two weeks now.

You need to forget.

From now on, I will not cover
your non-attendances anymore.

Return to your position
or face expulsion.

Do you get it?

You're going to class today.

You're going to class today,
freshman d'Alençon!

I will help you.

Pierre?

Venerable president,

I will go this afternoon, as requested,

fetch the deceased's letters and
other literature sought by the "Pékin".

And her journal?
- No journal.

Did you check behind
the philosophy books? In the library?

I've searched everywhere.

No one touched Claude's stuff.

You read them?

Your sister's letters.
- No.

Aren't you curious?

No hatred?

You will move or what?

What do you have here?

A hint of revenge,

lodged deep in your throat.

You will definitely spit it out.

You must be in so much pain.

Piss off!

On your knees, freshmen.

184th evening of December 2nd.

Today,

glory is taking a tender shape.

On the winter night,
thousands of torches

create halos
around his little cap.

Freshmen,

the hazing is expiring as we speak.

And this little boy enlists.

This child,

thanks to the flattened cap
looks like a veteran.

Attention!

There he is,

in the silent night,
a tremendous victory, a resounding roar.

Long live the Emperor!

Silent, he has passed.

Attention.

Noble galette, may your name

3.. 4..

Noble galette, may your name

Be immortal in our history,

May it be ennobled by the glory

Of a valiant class promotion!

I use Platon, Kant and Hegel,
I got a four.

You probably didn't know
how to frame a thesis.

I was telling Blandine
that everytime I check

the mirror, I don't
look the same,

weird shapes and such.

You only had to to listen carefully
to Stern's last lesson.

It's hard when
you're colorblind in one ear.

He thinks he'll get Baudelaire.

Stern doesn't value contemplation
that much. He sent André out.

You demand hope,
you'll only get oblivion.

The fruit of foolishness is
carelessly brushed aside.

But he's wrong, it won't be Baudelaire.

What do you think it will be then?

I don't think, I know.

Just soaking up Stern's words
isn't enough.

You need to possess
a strictly confidential database.

Too bad, I wanted Baudelaire.

So?
- It won't be Baudelaire.

You coming, you uglies?

It's not yours!

Can I play with you?

Come on, Delphine!

We are the best!

My name is Axel.

Phone call.
- Who's that?

Yes?

Go away.

Yes?

No, no.

I'll join you at the bar-tabac.
In 10 minutes?

You okay?

What kind of family were you born into?

East, next to Sedan.

My father was a worker
in a small textile industry.

He married the boss's daughter

Really?

My parents are killing themselves
to pay for my studies here.

I'm a self-made person,
even more so than you.

You got any political beliefs?

One day, my mother and I
went to see the mayor,

to try to get a bigger apartment.

We had been on the waiting list
for three years.

He offered to move us
ahead of our neighbors.

Delphine.

What? That's what politics is all about.

The left replaces the right
one clique follows another.

No, that's the absence of politics.

The real one,
the revolutionary one.

Society is made for people
like you, all interchangeable,

who got the same stuff,
exposed to the same media.

You lack imagination.

The unfortunate thing is
that you have a past.

And it'll catch up to you
before you know it.

I don't like you being
familiar with me.

You can kill your man with this.

Just wait for him to fall asleep

You're afraid of cutting yourself?

It doesn't hurt.

I'm not impressed.

I don't find you very romantic Delphine.

You play the mother
to avoid being a woman.

What do you fear from men?

Their genitals?

Keep going like this and
you'll never experience anything.

I accept.

It's beautiful.

Especially the bee.

I am a coward

I was wondering
the first time I saw you

if you were pretty or ugly,

if you were a good student
or a whimsical mind,

someone exceptional or insignificant.

So?

You never fail to throw insults at me.

So you are new,

your world disorients me,

or rather what I find attractive is
that you have your own world.

You've built yourself a resilience.

Next to you,
I feel like a well-trodden path,

beaten by opposing winds.

I am what Barrès calls; a rootless one.

De Santis is highly praised
in Bardèche and Brassiliach's

History of Motion Pictures.

Brassiliach was a fascist, wasn't he?

He was shot in 1945.

He really liked cinema.

What about you, are you a fascist?

Yes I think so.

I've become one.

I've always been instinctively
anti-communist.

Instincitvely anti-communist
or becoming fascist?

Drieu La Rochelle, Brasilliach actually.

I've always had a soft spot
for guys like that.

To them, fascism was the real communism.

Drieu says you have to have
gotten your hands dirty once.

The misfortune of having killed someone.

Did you kill someone?

No I haven't killed.

Besides, I was already tainted,

like everyone else.

I am what I hate
most in life.

That is?

A coward.

I am a coward.

[...] and weeping seraphim,
Musing among the vaporous flowers aswim,

With slow bows
from the sobbing viols drew

White tears that sank
in their coronals blue.

It was the blessed day
of your first kiss.

My reverie, eager with new miseries,

- It's mid-March,

and the class still hasn't stepped up.

Smile! Smile Lagarde!

The fact remains,
a class should come together

just like mayonnaise.

Poor Stern, he's becoming
crazy by the day.

He should've worked as priest
with his obsession for probing souls.

Yet in reality, he
doesn't even see us,

it's like he constantly has
a grid in front of his eye,

just like in a confessionnal.

Don't look at it,
you will damage the other.

The eye. You will
damage the other.

Why did you come and get me?

You're the one who
got me first.

Alright.

When you entered the freshman dormitory,
Pierre noticed you.

You said my name.

I saw her climb over the railing,
I was there.

I saw her jump.
- I know.

I know,
I saw that you saw me.

But it doesn't give you any right.

And you, what right
do you have to ruin my life?

I found it entertaining to see

which one of us would
reveal themselves first.

And I was alone,
I wanted to seduce you.

To ditch me after it?

Don't be unfair.

Why did Claude kill herself?

You see,

you want something.

Only you don't know if you want me
or her story.

What did you do to her?

Stop it,
you're the one holding on to it.

If you want to take her place,
know that you are no match.

You don't even resemble her.

Wait Delphine.

It's not true.

Actually, you resemble her.

All women are the same.

So, fate repeats itself,
the same old song.

One time tragedy, the next time comedy.

I'm not skilled in the second,
I acted in the first.

What did you do to her?

Let's be friends.
- You know it's not possible.

I love you.

I'm into you.

The pact

Did you ever sleep with a girl?

Are you coming to dance?

Want to drink something?

It's a shame
you don't want to dance.

You see this boy there?

The small blond standing alone?

I find him attractive.

He looks romantic.

He looks sad.

Looks good on him.

Especially his eyes, they look
like butterfly wings.

He must be short-sighted.

Would you be able to seduce him?

You like him that much.

If you sleep with him,
I'll sleep with you.

Are you bullshitting me?

We are getting some drinks.

Yes, if you want.

You do not speak that much.

You're not very talkative either.

Too much formality
at this shitty school.

At Marx Dormoy, it wasn't like that.

If you want, we can get informal.

You want to dance?
- You know how to rock?

What are you doing?

Keep going and yours will be next.

If you want, we can
go sleep at my place.

It's not far from here.

Don't worry, you can
sleep in my sister's room.

She's not there at the moment.

What's happening?

You feel good?

Claude's story

Everything's fine, you are here now.

Bertrand had to leave
early this morning.

He had classes at 8:00.

So he didn't want
to wake you up.

Did I throw up?

No, you were under
the shower all night.

Am I naked? - Yes, I took
the liberty of cleaning your things.

I take care of the house.

My name is Bégonia.

Yes. - It's Bégonia, may I enter?
- Yes.

Thank you.
- You're welcome.

5th november 1989, resistance video

Who does the cleaning
of the cleaning lady?

Yesterday's assignment:
"Does history have a meaning?"

Bluffed instead of being brave.

Should've said history
is the transition from

the Abstract Concrete
to the Concrete Abstract.

In pre-capitalist feudal societies,
no freedom.

In communist society
on the other hand...

Shit.

I don't give a shit
if you read read the letters or not.

You don't even deserve them.

Axel, you poor provincial dandy.

But if you don't like women,
just go get fucked.

By Pierre.

You get along with him so well.

Huh?

Just go. Do it. Own up to it.

If no woman has ever dared
to tell you the truth to your face,

Sorry.

Can I get the tray back?
- Yes.

You haven't eaten anything.

You smell like wine.
- No kidding?

A little boy who makes
films for the first time [...]

Exercise of a free,
non-alienating activity.

This free activity of
non-associated producers.

He spoke to me for the first time.

Yes? - Delphine?
It's Bertrand.

Yes.
- How is it? Do you feel better?

Yes, I am feeling better.

I spent the night
in the armchair next to you.

I don't have class until 3 o'clock.

I'll take my things in the dorm
and I can come see you, okay?

Delphine?

Who are these delicious
chocolate bars for?

I was about to finish.
- Don't bother.

Thank you Mrs.

Not Mrs, Bégonia.

Miss?

And the skirt?

Dormitory 111, please.

I would like to talk to Axel D'Osnon.

Axel D'Osnon.

Le Guevec Delphine

Patrice, Raphaël, go to sleep now!

Pierre speaking
- Yeah, I'd like to talk to Axel.

He left for Sedan to study
at his parents' house.

The exam is coming up.

When is he coming back?

Within ten days or so.

Did he leave anything for me?

Yes, a note.

Unfortunately, I fear I've misplaced it.

However... I read it before I lost it.

It's in prose.

What did it say?

Promises are meant to be kept.

A promise is a promise.

I forget nothing. Signed, Axel.

Thanks

Pussy!

Go fuck yourself!

Did you tell mom you were leaving?

You can pass on the message
to her, can't you?

Where are you going?

I'm leaving the Abstract Concrete
to go to the Concrete Abstract.

Where is it?

Abstract Concrete is the free activity
of non-associated producers.

And the Concrete Abstract is you two.

And mom too.

In the first quarter, you loved me
even though you hated me.

In the second quarter, you hated me
even though you loved me.

In the third quarter,
you will have to kill me.

Killing someone is about
listening to them

so you can to take his place.

So, I'm listening
to what you've prepared.

I'm all ears.

What have these walls retained
of the bond our hearts wove?

These aging walls that bore witness
to our first encounter

The stairs you unveiled to me

The footbridge from which
I'd await your approach

Could it be they've forgotten
our tender affection?

The very whisper of our kisses
rejuvenates the school's essence

Noble galette, may your name

Be immortal in our history,

May it be ennobled by the glory

Of a valiant class promotion!

Miss Le Guevec

Are you dreaming?

Sorry for yesterday.

Don't worry.

How do you feel now?

Feeling better?

I have to tell you.

I told you my sister was not home
the other day. But that's not true.

She is dead.

She committed suicide.

You look like her.

Like who? - Like your sister.

Claude?

But you knew her?
- No.

We met once.

2 hours before her suicide.

That's not true. I don't look like her.

She always knew how
to attract people.

I'm pathetic.

Monday, January 3rd, 1988.

He spoke to me for the first time.

It was in the cafeteria,
he asked me who I was.

I locked eyes with him,

immediately sensing
his conservative soul.

My answer came out as forcefully
as he had posed the question.

"I'm Jewish, feminist, and communist."

Everyone heard.

It made him smile.

From the start,
we equally desired and hated each other.

8th May 1988.

We fucked.

We argue.

We fuck at the hotel,

argue at the cafe.

The hotel, the cafe.

Fucking and arguing.

What drives the other?

How long will this last?

She was better than me, right?

Claude.

Was she better than me?

You have made peace with her ghost.

Don't you think that when someone
takes their own life, they're unhappy?

She wasn't unhappy, quite the opposite.

We all loved her.
She was the one causing us pain

But it's still despair.

Claude was a grown person.

She just didn't get along
with her father

She didn't want to become
a diplomat like him.

Don't you think she might've
simply suffered a heartbreak?

She never had anyone serious. Never.

Axel?

Of the deceased,
we don't speak, we mourn.

We close our lips.

We pray without moving our hands.

We bring flowers.

We clean the grave.

Why do you think
your sister killed herself?

Can we talk about something else?

Do you know her boyfriend?

He's in "khâgne".

A weird guy, a boarder.

You should know him, Axel D'Osnon.
- Yeah, by sight.

You don't know
you own sister's boyfriend?

There were both in the same "khâgne",
Axel and Claude.

I was never glued to her ass.

When she threw herself [...]
- Threw?

Yes threw, I'd only been
living in Paris for two months.

And it's been 3 years that
we haven't seen each other.

You don't know Axel then.

Were were you when
she killed herself?

I saw her leaving your dorm.

You should have been a cop.

You don't remember?

Pierre was drilling us in
the Cyrard yard.

Didn't you try to look
for what happened?

Nothing happened,
Claude was a nutcase.

I don't believe it.

You're pissing me off
Delphine.

You know nothing
but play cop.

What're you doing?
- I bounce, I'm not wanted.

- Wait. I'm sorry.

Stay.

I need you.

I love you.

The climax of Jeunet's play
is a striking example.

Recall that Claire, the heroine,
commits suicide on stage

by drinking the tea she had intended
to use to poison her mistress.

Madame.

Jean Jeunet does not
portray Claire's death

in "The Maids" as a
suicide, but as a murder.

Claire doesn't die in her
humble reality as a maid,

but in the role of madame,
in all her grandeur.

I used to revere
my literature professor.

But one day, that admiration fell away.

It was a Sunday in Rouen.

I dared.

I went to his home.

He lived in a working-class suburb
in a plain brick house.

There he was,

bent over his salad garden,
in suspenders.

He saw me and straightened up.

He wasn't young anymore.

He gave me a kind gesture.

In that moment,

I saw him as utterly ordinary.

I was your age then.

I tell you this to emphasize the
importance of hiding yourself.

Where there's no distance,

the mystery fades.

Your life is your own secret.

Never let anyone truly see through you,

even in love.

Didn't you see my philosphy homework?

Animula vagula, blandula
- Give my essay back.

Little soul, like a wave, quivering.

Bertrand!

You don't have some paper and a pencil?

I won't have time to stop by the dorm.

It's beautiful.
- Give it back.

Is it a gift?

Do you like it?
- Yeah.

Then take it, I never use it.

Bertrand.

What?

Do you love me?

What's happening?

I have a hard time
being there with you.

What if I didn't love you?

I think a change of scene
will do us good.

We will head the sea.
Charles is marrying next week.

It's a beautiful spot in Brittany.

I need to work.
I need to get into "khâgne".

I want that spot.
- You will get it if you love me.

When summer returns,

the school will once
again breathe in light from every pore.

A light warm breeze will
make us shiver in the hallways.

I want that breeze, Axel,

to rekindle our love.

November 8th, 1989.

The Berlin Wall is about to fall.

Everything is driven by
the pursuit of profit.

The East has been devoured
by the crisis.

Everyone wants to come to Paris,

to pig out, to laugh, to consume.

To think they're all going
to end up trapped like rats.

She fucking annoys me!

Couldn't care less about your life!

You're bugging the shit out of me.

What's gotten into you?

No, I know what's gotten into you.

You don't love me.

Tomorrow is Sunday.

We'll have lunch with the
platoon at Saint-Sulpice.

The celebration will last all afternoon,
I won't be able to stay with you.

You'll be alone.

You'll take the opportunity to leave me.

A promise is a promise.

Allo!

It's me,

Axel.

Delphine? - Yes.

Do you remember the pact we made?

I am ready.

I came back,

the dormitory is empty,

solemnly.

Yes, that's it, almost solemnly.

I'm hard for you.

I'm waiting.

You're coming.

Come.

Wait.

I know.

I will tell you.

I'll give it to you.

I know everything you want.

One day, it was Bertrand's
turn to make his debut.

He, too, walked through the doors
of the Henri-IV high school.

The difference is, he didn't choose
École Normale Supérieure like us.

He set off to prepare for Saint-Cyr.

He joined the first-year dormitory

in the second floor of the rotunda.

In the dormitory,
he becomes absolutely nothing.

Neither the son of his mum and dad,

nor the little brother of Claude,

nor the excellent student
he had always been.

Bertrand D'Alençon is a freshman.

And by definition, freshmen are vile,

vengeful,

marshy,

and nauseating.

They need to be disciplined,

de-civilized,

de-individualized.

They come in fresh and rosy.

So, tradition watches over.

The age-old tragi-comic tradition

that up until December
2nd, the platoon

gathers to celebrate
the victory of Austerlitz.

Freshmen are to be endlessly
harassed and exploited.

Shouting, bullying, mocking,

punishments, icy retorts.

All this setup so that they relinquish
their little personalities,

their precious self-regard,

and discover the other epic call
to serve a country.

Theirs,

France.

Several times Bertrand starts to cry,

or he doesn't even react.

He just sits there like a rag,
it looks bad.

The council of elders meets and decides
on a special test for him.

One morning,
Pierre asks me to take part

in the tribunal planned
for the afternoon.

Well?

You jump?

We're not gonna spend all day on this.

Jump.

Faint-hearted.

Wimp.

So, you're scared?

Scared of dying?

And then you want to join the army,
you want to make a name for yourself.

You want to defend the colors of France.
- France!

Command men?

Fraud.

You shouldn't be in the military,

you should be whoring out.

Chicken.

Panty waist.

It's true, you do look like a woman.

Did you hear that, you coward?

If you don't jump, we'll jump you.

You're submissive, a poof.

And we're going to initiate you.

Delicately.

We're going to tear you another one.

No shortage of volunteers here.

Faggot.

Faggot.

Well, are you jumping?

You're coward.

A spineless coward.

Gentlemen.

Sissy, queer.

Queer, girly.

Need a girl to comfort you?

Girlie, Girlie, Girlie.

Gentlemen.

You came to baby your little brother?

All right, pair up!

"Confined for the academic term
within a wretched den."

Claude!

A year later...

From the Concrete Abstract to the
Abstract Concrete...

Hey, you're happy?

Hi, how are you?