Original subtitles

I was still in Paris,

working for the Justice department.

I was bored.

Bouvier has started His bloody career.

It was 1893,

and 5 years would pass

before I met him.

Lourdes, May 28, 1893

Louise, dear Louise,

I wanted to visit our Mother of God again,

that balm for our bodies and souls.

But I didn't take a tourist train,

my wallet bulging with cash.

I prayed for myself, my parents and my friends.

Lourdes is surrounded by mountains

which are now covered with snow.

At the top of one of the highest,

I wrote on its white blanket,

"Hail Mary Mother of God,

watch over Louise and me.

Keep her as white as this snow."

Louise, I must tell you I'm no longer a soldier.

They said I was studying too hard for my exams.

And that I should rest.

But I know that my weariness is due to

not seeing you for such a long time.

The Judge and the Murderer.

You shouldn't have come, Mr. Bouvier.

- It's been so long. - You know you shouldn't have.

I thought you'd left.

Is that what you wanted?

Yes. I don't want to hurt you.

You never hurt me.

I love you too much.

Wait! Look! This is for you.

A gold watch!

I sold my land for 150 francs.

You shouldn't have.

Why would you give me such a nice present?

To make you happy.

But I won't marry you.

Why?

Why?

Not here!

Where, then?

No where!

- Vicious man! - I hate dogs!

- What did he do? - Bit me!

In this Godless school full of freemasons,

what book do they award as prizes?

The list is edifying:

Jean-Baptiste Clement's songs for the Commune,

The insurgent by Jules Valles, Zola's novels,

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.

Are books like this how we educate our youth?

' Say no!

A Godless school is a school against God.

It leaves the open to scandals.

The Increase in crime

committed by young people from these schools is the proof.

My brothers, we must fight

and fight we will.

- The men come after. - I want Jesus right now!

Body of Christ.

Now we're joined. We've taken Communion together.

Do you like that, Louise?

Answer me.

Answer me, for God's sake!

She won't be back now.

Maids always get Sundays off.

You have to convince your Louise to marry me.

I'm educated. I was a sergeant.

I don't know what you have against me.

I'm sympathetic, Mr. Bouvier.

But she is not.

You should forget about her.

Can I have some more coffee?

It's good. My sister made it this morning.

What do I care if she makes good coffee?

Are you hungry? There is a fresh pancake.

She has to give back my letters, photograph

and the money I gave her to get a picture taken.

Where are the letters? Not here.

Then at her boss's house.

Dirty exploiters!

I don't know.

- How old is Francine? - 16.

You've made me miss my train.

The next one's tomorrow morning.

Can I sleep here?

It is not convenient. Can't you stay at the hotel?

I could, but I don't want to be alone.

There's a bed in the stable.

You owe me at least that.

Mrs. Lesueur! Can you hear me?

What is it? Not feeling well?

I'm fine. It's like having a family.

The barracks is full of men.

I'd like a woman.

But I don't like a prostitute.

I want a nice girl, like Louise.

Let us sleep. We have to work tomorrow.

I know I'm ridiculous and seem sad and pensive,

but that's because of my time spent with the monks.

Now I'm through with monks. I spit on them.

If you won't give me Louise, give me her sister.

What's it to you?

Leave us in peace. You're raving.

Francine is pretty, too. Give her to me.

She'll be happy.

I don't want to be alone.

Here are your letters and your pictures.

I'll give you the money at the end of the month.

They're beautiful letters.

You don't often see writing like that.

You won't get letters like this again soon.

I know.

Louise Lesueur isn't worthy of

Joseph Bouvier's letters.

So you thought about it?

You don't want to marry me?

No.

Louise! Better now than later.

"In heaven...

I'll see her one day."

Be quiet! There are sick people here.

It's good for them.

Fine, but quiet down.

I'll need to take my virgin Mary statue.

You love virgin?

I even went to Lourdes.

That's why the Mother of God spared my life and Louise's

"citizens, let us punish the crimes of evil priest.

Only pity the victims, transformed by faith into idiots."

Watch it, I have two bullets in my head.

I'm going to an asylum, not a jail.

Music is my therapy.

I'll pray for you. Mr. Bouvier.

Well, you don't have anything else to do.

“To the polls, citizens!

Against the clergy.

Let us vote.

And let our voices chase away the priests."

No! I don't want you to operate on me!

Murderers! Butchers of Christians!

- Chloroform. - No! Not chloroform!

You're trying to kill me, not cure me!

Capitalist pigs! Anarchy!

You kill your patients! Executioner!

I've had enough! Get him out of here!

I can't wait to get rid of him.

I hope he dies from those bullets!

I'm glad to be out of that extermination clinic

set up to kill the poor.

Doctors are capitalists who exploit the workers.

Cut off their heads!

Anarchy and socialism!

Catch him!

Don't let him go!

Be quiet! Silence!

Took off heads off again?

Everyone! Everyone

I'd like to wish you a Merry Christmas

and tell you a good news that our troops have taken Timbuktu.

Sir.

Let him speak.

When I arrived at this modern asylum with its electric lights.

Instead of the butchers I saw tending the innocent patients at Dole,

Men were tending them.

When I got out of the filthy Dole asylum,

I wanted to see blood flow everywhere.

If I sometimes shouted, "Anarchy,".

It was because of the injustice I saw committed

against those poor, starving wretches.

I ate my crust of bread only to stay alive.

If whenever something bad happened to someone,

they were treated like I was...

Be quiet!

If these people were treated like I was treated,

too much blood would be shed.

Dr. Dutourd, with your humanity,

you should be running France rather than a lunatic asylum.

That is even more to your credit.

Thank you Bouvier.

Thanks. Let's go and make the Colossus weep.

They gave me flat bread, bacon and pork rind.

You could have kept me until Easter.

With Christmas, I could have had 2 holidays.

You know that neither the army nor that state is paying for you.

An asylum is not a charity hospital.

So you won't operate?

You're fine.

I would have been brave.

I know, I know. Bouvier!

Are you sure I'm cured, at least?

If we can't cure temporary insanity in 3 months,

then there is no hope for modern medicine.

I hope you're right.

Wait.

Here is St. Regis medal, our local saint.

Could be useful.

Here is a fish!

Oh, yeah, it's April Fool's Day.

You have one, too.

I'll keep it as a souvenir.

We fed you! What else do you want?

He plays badly-

I play better than that. - I'm sure you do.

Let me stay.

I could play the harmonium or be a servant.

Not for the outdoor work, because of the sun.

It hurts my head and makes me feel drunk.

I said no!

I was here for 2 years.

I behaved myself, wore the gown, went to catechism.

- Never, after what happened. - You owe me that.

My evil ideas come from here.

Be quite, Bouvier!

The good lord knows

that I was raped here when I was 16.

Tell me you know that!

Tell me!

No answer!

I wouldn't be surprised if he weren't here.

All you do is excommunicate people who demonstrate on May 1.

Rich peoples' priest!

Marriet's two sisters were

fired from the factory where they worked.

And the murderer is still at large.

There are a lot of murderers at large.

This one gets around, Counsellor.

You know him?

Let's follow his trail.

Ready, Mother?

- Here I am. - Let's begin.

October 20, 1894 in La Vaquiere,

a 13-year-old girl with a gaping chest wound,

both breast cut off, abdominal wounds, sodomy.

Sit down, Mother.

May 1895 in Etaule, a 15-year-old shepherdess,

eviscerated, raped and throat cut.

August 1895 in Benonces, a 16-year-old shepherd...

Throat cut, testicles bitten off, sodomized,

evidence of earlier sodomy, probably his boss.

September 1895 in Busset, an 18-year-old girl,

gaping chest would, eviscerated with billhook.

In St. Marcel du Bon Acceuil.

That's near here.

On December 14, 1895, a 13-year-old boy,

eviscerated and sodomy.

Hang on, Mother.

Next to the body they found

a piece of paper with the letters M A R C on it.

The police arrested an old wrestler

named Marseille. Know why?

Why?

They said it was the first 4 letters of his name.

They found human flesh spattered on his jacket.

Turned out to be cod!

They let him go?

After 6 months in a lunatic asylum.

Next, Mother.

March 13, a shepherdess eviscerated near Lourdes.

Oh dear! Worse than the others?

No, But Lourdes!

They never found her shoes.

July 8, 1896, 2 months before you got here,

in St. Etienne de Boulogne, a young girl

strangled and sodomized.

Finally.

What do you mean?

Don't you want him to come back to your jurisdiction?

What do you mean?

Don't you want him to come back to your jurisdiction?

Yes.

And it is happening as I thought it would.

Except they arrested an innocent man.

I immediately knew it wasn't him.

He didn't look like my killer.

I drew his portrait in pencil.

Not a sketch, but a real portrait.

I carefully examined all the recent crimes

that seemed related.

I found that witnesses hundreds of miles from each other

described the same man.

This man!

Looks like a tramp.

I'm sure that's him.

You think this man committed the crimes?

I'm convinced of it!

Whether he exists or not, here he is.

You've invented him. Why are you on the bench?

What?

Buy some canvas and brushes and paint portraits!

Sorry, Emil. You're a judge of the future.

This hare you've flushed out will get you decorated in Paris.

Don't joke about it. I want your opinion.

Does my work serve a useful purpose?

I so enjoyed listening to you that I didn't think about it.

What pretty roses! Come in.

Thank you.

Oh, quails!

With herbs. Our specialty.

- One of our enemies writes... - Zola?

No, Mirabeau.

Even worse.

He has some interesting ideas on murder.

- May I? - Of course, sorry.

He thinks that we're all potential murderers.

We channel our murderous tendencies into legal enterprise

industry, colonial trade, war, anti-Semitism.

I chose anti-Semitism because it's safe,

fashionable and approved by the church.

What a lovely bouquet!

Your houseboy brought it. He seems nice.

I'm afraid he'll leave or get married.

Same with maids. You train them, they leave and their husbands benefit.

Sit down.

A colored man won't find it easy to find a wife around here.

I hope not. I couldn't do without him.

How long have you had him?

A year after I arrived in Saigon, I had his brother executed.

Since the boy was still a minor, he got 5 years.

An easy sentence, since he worked as my cook.

Weren't you afraid he'd poison you?

I had him converted to Christianity, get baptized,

take first communion. A very moving ceremony.

Every Saturday he went to confession

and the priest kept me up-to-date.

When I had to quit my post

and leave Cochin China,

I knew I'd miss him and brought him with me.

I hope he'll help me adapt.

Maybe the atmosphere of the Motherland...

I'm too old to go live with my mother.

It's late, Emil. Don't make Rose wait today.

I'm finished. Want to hear it?

Sit down.

Urgent. Based on the proceedings etc...

We authorize our colleague in X to hunt for a

suspect matching the following description:

About 40 years old, medium height, black hair and black beard,

scar on left upper lip,

red-rimmed eyes.

Has an unpleasant demeanor.

Sometimes wears wooden shoes.

That's new.

From a policeman's deposition.

Here it is.

He carries a cloth bag and an accordion.

He usually eats soup and bread,

occasionally wine and milk.

Looks for work as a shepherd.

Claims to be an invalid.

Speaks French and 2 dialects.

Notify me if found.

I'm sending it to all the prosecutors in France.

If my colleagues do their jobs, we have a chance.

It seems simple.

But it'll shake their routines.

- I'm proud of you. - I'm taking a risk.

I'll come under fire.

You're used to it.

Here's the list.

There are 250 envelopes to address. I hate to ask you this.

I have nothing else to do.

I'll start after breakfast. Hurry, you will be late.

You didn't change your shirt? It's still clean.

It's true you never get dirty.

Here's my birthday present for Rose.

Cherries in brandy like last year.

- Careful not to spill them. - OK.

- You don't mind? - No, why?

A judge with a jar of cherries!

I'll take the quiet streets.

- Wait. - Thanks, Mother. Good-bye.

- Hello, Mr. Sellier. - Hello, Suzanne.

Suzanne! I told you not to talk to just anyone.

Behave yourself. It's dangerous.

One day, a man with a black beard

will jump the fence and cut you up with his knife

from stem to sternum.

That makes you laugh?

- Did you see a doctor? - Yes.

- What did he say? - It's not serious.

- Are you still in pain? - Yes.

- Hello, Godfather. - Hello. Hello, Victor.

What are you reading?

The death of Robespierre.

Who was Robespierre?

Bloodthirsty monster who terrorized by the guillotine.

Good.

Shot to death by a policeman named Merda.

- Victor! - It's in the book!

Some historians say Meda, others say Merda.

Either way, he's a brave policeman

who rid France of one of its biggest criminals.

Remember him.

- It's easy to remember. - I think so.

Here, take 3 sous.

Go get us a cake for Rose's birthday.

Anything you want except rum baba.

- I love those! - I know.

But no alcohol in the house! Go on!

Mother gave me some cherries in brandy for you.

- I threw it away. - Why?

I don't like Mother's cherries in brandy.

How was it today?

We were at the hospital all the afternoon.

- Was she afraid? - No.

She seems to like the doctor.

He's suspicious, a freemason.

They say he has relations with his patients.

He asked me some strange questions.

Like whether she like men.

What did you say?

That she threw kisses through the fences.

She is naturally affectionate.

He wants to take her into care.

But you care for her here.

I hope you don't regret leaving the factory.

I had lots of friends.

Factory workers!

Meaning whores.

Meaning workers who put in 12 hours a day,

7 days a week for 2 francs a day.

It was time I got you out of there.

I'll leave you some money.

Put it on the table.

Stay if you want to. It's not our day.

- Tonight I could... - I have to work.

The doctor said it might not be nightmare.

Then what is it?

I'll be right back.

Only a very corrupt man could get excited by an innocent girl.

Do you want me to stay?

If you like.

Louise, dear Louise,

so much has happened since our unfortunate incident.

Like me, you had to endure many ups and downs.

But we should still be happy that

Providence has miraculously saved us both!

Providence, that watches over the smallest birds,

couldn't help protecting two naive people.

Neither their parents nor society gave them

the moral and material support needed in life.

"God, Law, Duty.

Among great travellers,

there are many true friends of God."

Seen a man like you, sergeant?

I've never seen a man like me.

What's a man like me?

A shepherdess was killed probably by a hobo.

It might have been a rich man. Look higher.

Anything is possible. Here's your service record.

Do you miss the service?

I learned to march there. The army!

Louise...

Louise

I've been gone more than 3 years now.

And if I must live in exile,

at least God has made it a free one.

Two years ago, in a pair of cheap rubber boots,

I travelled through all the provinces of Brittany

and all the provinces of Normandy,

big, rich provinces with good cider as in Brittany.

There and in the provinces of Maine,

people are very religious and considerate.

In Beauce and Brie,

people treat those poorer than them with contempt.

All I have is soup.

It's poor folks' food.

They are the generous ones.

I write to my fiancee every week.

How could she write you back?

She doesn't write me back.

Here's money for the milk and soup.

You're poorer than me. Pay me with prayers.

God doesn't need prayers!

Do you have contraband matches?

I leave that to the small timers.

It's too heavy.

Don't touch!

Don't talk like that to Jesus Christ, son of God.

This water is no good.

Even the dog won't drink it.

But it's too good for you, you little whores!

Only rich men will have your cute little asses

but Bouvier, no way!

Get out of here!

Get out of here!

Louise, I find that in Brittany and Savoie

they are more religious and less hypocritical than around Lourdes.

I'm not the first great traveller to notice it.

Louise, may I ask you to write me back soon

and tell me if I should give up on you forever?

Only then will I resign myself.

Bouvier, Joseph.

Antoine!

Stop him!

Thank you, angel of mercy.

"My love, we were unlucky.

There was a war and we were young.

The winter of '70 was filled with suffering.

It only got worse come spring time.

Lilacs will cover the highlands of Belleville.

The slopes of Montmartre and the Meudon woods.

We'll go pick them in happier times.

We're fighting for the Commune and we'll win."

Butchers of Christians!

Sowers of death!

Bourgeois pigs!

I am the anarchist of God!

Your Honor, we can't find work because of you.

We have a bad reputation.

I let you go.

It's not enough.

Everyone saw us in handcuffs escorted by the police.

We just want a paper saying we're innocent of murder.

I can't give you that.

Please leave. You're in the way.

You brought us here, so you're responsible.

He may be right, the poor devil.

We're overrun by tramps.

I know. I know I'm bothering everyone.

I'm making my colleagues work

and open files.

I won't let them sweep them under the rug.

I wonder if it's a good idea to transform Privas

into thieves den with the election so close.

The opposition is having a field day

with the strikes, anarchist attacks,

factory closings,

suicides due to poverty.

I know.

I'm becoming a public menace.

Hurry up girls.

CHARITY SOUP KITCHEN

- We'll stuff our faces. - We sure will.

Haven't you left yet?

We're waiting for our friends to be released.

We'll give some soup, but first, you have to sign.

What is it?

A petition against the traitor Dreyfus.

We don't know how to write.

Then no soup.

Bitch!

This is a joke!

There is a hobo! Another one! Hey hobo!

You're arriving and we're leaving. That's life.

All we do here is go in and go out.

The republic is less than nothing!

The government is run by crooks and priest!

Viva Anarchy!

Our time has come.

Hurry up, officers.

No, I like it.

Leave it on.

Sit down.

It's hot in here.

Sign of innocence!

Do your eyes hurt?

I hate the sun.

What about on the road?

It hurts.

Police, remove the sun.

Stop pacing! You're making me dizzy.

It's been 3 weeks. Show him to the witnesses.

Mother!

There is nothing stupider than a witness,

nothing more ignorant and narrow-minded.

Even if they identify him, I won't believe it.

Anyway, I want him to admit it.

Are you tired, Mother. No, stay.

You can't keep him forever. It's up to me.

He's a vagrant without a lawyer.

I need to find something,

an idea, a way to make him talk.

I need a confession before I charge him.

You have a wonderful job.

Manhunting...

My life-long dream.

This could be as big as the Dreyfus Affair.

Bouvier, time for you to go.

One more tramp with no reason to be here.

I hope you have no bad feelings.

You're the only one who's been honest and considerate with me.

You don't often see hobos who are former sergeants

and who can read and write.

I'd like to see what you've seen.

I'll tell you a secret.

Bouvier, I'm fascinated by hobos.

Strange idea!

Why? It's in the news.

Read this: 400.000 hobos in France.

I couldn't read it because I'm in jail.

You read The Lyons Republican?

Freedom is being able to read the paper.

Especially articles about perverted priests.

Down with the clergy!

I'll show you something that might interest you.

Every time a hobo ends up here, I interrogate him.

We talk, of course.

This is 4 years' work.

What's it for?

For a book

I'm going to write about

what a poet once called drifters.

Could you help me Bouvier?

When you meet someone on the road, do you say.

"Is this the road?"

This is the road, comrade!

It has a kind of noble beauty to it.

It's just a habit.

I compare tramps to migratory birds,

moving with the seasons.

In September you head south

for free vacation on the Riviera.

Judges can't afford the South of France in winter.

I go in winter and summer.

Do you know Nice?

Yes, and Menton. I went to see my sister two years ago.

She's a whore. I didn't stay long.

She couldn't bear the light burden providence had given her.

Have you been to Lourdes?

You're good!

No, I saw that your walking stick was

carved with “Maria Lourdes...

At first I thought it was your mistress.

No, Maria is the Virgin Mary.

She lives in Lourdes and anywhere she wants.

You're very devoted to the Virgin?

She is the saint of those who have nothing.

The patron saint of tramps?

No. They don't have religion.

I have personal reasons to worship her and go on pilgrimage.

On the train?

After what she did? No, on foot.

I started right at the top of your map

in Beauvais, in September.

From Beauvais to Lourdes...

even as the crow flies, is quite a trek!

I didn't go that way.

I think this is the way.

I can really read a map.

Oops, I broke it. Doesn't matter.

So you went through Benonces?

Yes, Benonces and beyond.

Six murders took place along this route.

La Vaquiere, Benonces, Busset,

St. Martin du Bon Accueil, St. Flours and Lourdes,

Where in March you killed a girl near a sheep pen.

The dates and places match up.

I accuse you of 2 other murders.

One in Etaule and the other in St. Etienne on May 8, 1896.

I have pictures of the victims.

Look at them! Bouvier! Look at them!

Look at the people you eviscerated,

raped and deified'.!

I pity you.

Why go to Paris when Paris comes to you?

Will stay for lunch?

No thanks. I just stopped by.

It's not important. See you later.

He didn't eat anything today.

Leave me alone with him.

Don't worry.

Since I can't keep you out, come and look.

It's full of ants.

Look what that one's doing.

The others aren't even looking.

Aren't you hungry?

It stopped doing it.

You're very crafty, Your Honor.

It's really too bad.

The way you operate makes me pity you.

You knew it couldn't last, Bouvier.

Deep down you must feel better.

I helped lighten your burden.

I'm with you comrade.

We'll travel together.

I can't speak, but I'll write you a letter.

The world shouldn't suffer anymore

because of the afflictions of a mental patient.

I'll bring you some writing materials.

And some sausage.

You can't write a letter like that overnight.

What if he doesn't write it?

I had to let it dry.

We're out of blotters.

I'll have to remedy that.

"God, Law, Duty!

To France!" Good opening.

"Yes, I committed the crimes you accuse me of in fits of rage.

I was bitten by a rabid dog."

- Was he bitten? - No.

"I've always thought the cure poisoned my blood.

That is, if I was bitten by a dog.

I don't know what's wrong with me.

Sometimes I could just kill.

I set out across the fields whenever it struck me.

Without regard for paths or roads.

I sought comfort from the land."

Your hobo write well.

My efforts paid off.

Yes, but for now, you have nothing. This is not a confession.

No details, no names, no places.

And if by chance, this odd character

decides to retract, which is possible,

You'd be taken for a fool, a braggart.

A dreamer taken for a ride by a mental patient.

The court would look bad.

I'd look like an idiot.

Or a poet.

Aren't you listening to the music?

That's the Red Donkey, a hero in Algeria.

He buried 100 Arabs up to their necks

and kicked their heads in. Charming!

Hello, colonel!

Did you read the article by Zola in the paper?

Zola is a toilet on which I'd sit until they shot him.

That's evocative!

Yes I'm the Great Terror!

Be an anarchist or a socialist,

The real villains are the doctors who let me out.

So, Bouvier...

Leave us alone.

How do you fill?

Innocent, because it was God's will.

I'm just his instrument, created by him

for purposes that no one may know.

In the letters you wrote me...

I didn't write it to you, I wrote it to France.

It's written at the top. Didn't you read it?

It's very clear.

Yes, of course.

But you leave a lot unexplained.

My silence tells you more than my words could.

But now we need details!

Let's not bother with such sordid things.

It's ugly, it's bad for the morals of youth.

Listen, Bouvier!

The accused have to give a detailed account of

the crimes to which they confess.

It's the law.

Please be reasonable.

Help me out.

On one condition.

My letter is printed in 3 newspapers:

The Lyon Republican, Progress and The Little Journal with my picture,

I want everyone to know I was bitten by a rabid dog when I was 16

and my blood was poisoned by the cures,

and by my poor treatment at the asylum of Dole,

asylum of destruction and death.

Which explains my behavior.

When I see the papers with my letter in them,

then out of friendship for you because you're honest and considerate,

I'll tell you everything.

If not, then no way!

Bouvier, you know that's against the law!

Then we need a new law.

It's only fair there should be a give and take.

Hail Mary! Bastard monks!

You can't never be too fanatical about the truth.

- Him crazy? - He's unhinged.

Unhinged, yes,

and evil to the bone. A filthy pederast and a sadist, but not crazy.

A madman doesn't ask for his picture in the paper.

He's very clever to go public before the trial

to influence opinion and the witness.

He's a cunning peasant trying to trick me.

I'll pretend to go along.

He wants his picture taken in a white shirt?

Fine. Perfect!

Make sure it fits. His neck is bigger than mine.

It's one of your poor father's shirts.

He'll drive you crazy with his demands.

I'm counting on this picture, Mother.

I'll make good use of it, believe me.

Does it bother you to lie to him?

Why? It's my job.

I like it, Judge.

But I want to hold something else besides the book.

Like these keys. They are keys to the jail.

Let him have them.

I'll handle it.

The keys to heaven.

My parents will be happy.

- Which book? - The life of Joan of Arc.

Down with Prussia!

How does this look?

Very good.

It'll appear in the paper next to my letter.

So make me look good.

- Stop moving! - Sewer rat!

I'll take your picture!

Sorry, your Honor.

Make the face bigger

so that any illiterate peasant can recognize and identify him.

Make 100 prints.

100?

That'll be expensive. I'll pay you myself.

They'll all be talking about me one day.

You can say you paid Bouvier's Photograph.

- It's nothing. - The world will know my face.

I owe you that. Bouvier.

Yours is a big case for a provincial judge.

Maybe the biggest after the Dreyfus Affair.

- Which you heard about? - Maybe.

If what you claim in your letter can be proved,

I'll get a promotion or decoration from the government.

I'm confident about the future.

Where do I stand?

I'm getting to that. Bouvier.

When I tell you to give me the details,

that only the horror of your crimes can save you,

I'm not thinking of myself.

I'm thinking of you.

Justice is not interested in madman.

They don't execute madman.

The Legion of Honor? Promotion? I'll do without.

All I want is truth.

I forgot my shirt and scarf.

No, come here, Your Honor.

Sit down.

I'd like to offer you a bishop's throne.

Thank you. Bouvier.

Firing on a little girl. Shame on you.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

Give me that! Attempted murder!

Idiot!

Give me your hand.

Stop!

Stop!

This child will take communion with yours.

A murderer's daughter won't take communion here.

The murderer has been arrested!

The murderer is behind bars!

His name is Bouvier.

It's in all the headlines. With his confession.

We don't believe you.

So you will take communion alone.

What are you doing here?

I need to talk to you.

It's been a while. Too many reporters around.

How are things at home?

Not good.

Suzanne tried to escape again.

Why didn't you tell me?

Why should I?

You don't visit anymore.

The doctor's taking her to the sanitarium.

When?

Tomorrow morning.

That soon?

They are coming to get her at 7:00.

She'd like to see you. She asks for you.

I'll be there.

It would help a lot.

Is that him?

He sounds like he's in pain.

Maybe.

He screams like a lunatic during a storm.

How did his victims scream?

Here, you'll need this.

You're coming tomorrow.

Doesn't matter.

I don't have my purse - Take it.

Your picture's in the paper, like the Czar.

I'm increasing circulation by 100,000 a day.

What responsibility!

Some Americans are here?

From Chicago. The Chicago Tribune.

A new crime every day, just like in the serials.

It's not over yet.

He seems to like making me wait.

What if it weren't true?

What if he made it up?

Why would he?

Just to talk.

To avoid being alone.

Hurry! I can't wait any longer.

I'll go with you.

Out of the way!

Mr. Bouvier has an ear infection.

- Who's that? - Dr. Radeuf.

- For the ear? - No, for the man.

- This not a sideshow. - I got permission.

And I refuse it.

This is an unpardonable violation. Get out of here!

Get out or I'll file a complaint!

I'm helping to advance French medicine.

Get out!

In the army they take good care of you.

I'm trying to prevent other Bouviers.

Even if it costs your job.

Did you bring the paper?

Yes, and it's a real rag.

Look at the front page.

Both of them tarred with the same brush.

You make up crimes so we'll think you're crazy.

And I lap all up like an idiot.

Those bastard! Bastards!

We'll teach these bullies a thing or two.

I may be a killer, but I'm not a liar.

I'll tell you about the 12th one.

After that I can't do any more for you.

But Bouvier, they'll say you're lying again.

No, No, I've got them this time.

It's a boy I threw down a well.

Only I know there is a body there.

What's the closest village?

I don't know.

What do you mean?

I was out of my mind.

Still...

Bring me a map and I'll show you.

Then they'll have to believe you.

And I'll have the last laugh.

I'll get the map.

Your Honor, when can I get treatment?

I want to go back to St. Robert's Asylum.

This is dragging on forever.

How long could it possibly take to dredge a well?

Don't worry, it's here.

Your Honor!

Thank you!

Thank you, Bouvier, you've helped me a lot.

Without you, I might have ended up killing for profit.

Did you have any regrets?

No, I know it's God's will by the great relief I felt afterward.

My face changed and no one was afraid of me.

Strange, isn't it?

But you made them suffer horribly, Bouvier!

Don't feel too sorry for them.

They suffered about 10 minutes all together.

For 2 years I've been walking around France

like a lunatic with 2 bullet in my head

and my ears dripping into my mouth.

And the sun striking my poor, half-dead brain.

Sergeant!

- That's for us, Your Honor. - Hello.

You read L'assommoir by Zola in the Army?

It's not for reading, it's for burning.

We're making a bonfire at the barracks

for the Zola books people want to get rid of, at 7:00.

You're invited. The Colonel is coming.

We might go. There is not much else going on.

What bothers me is the skeleton in the well.

Bouvier leaves the asylum on April 1

and kills 40 days after. It's too soon.

He'd still be considered insane.

Maybe.

But, if he was insane for the first,

then why not for the 11 others?

Unless you argue that Bouvier's mental state

improved the more he killed.

So you think he is insane.

Don't you?

Sometimes.

Sometimes I wonder...

about the well, but for different reason from you.

He seemed so eager to make me happy.

You see too much of him.

You'll end up pitying him.

My advantage is that I don't want to see him.

It might make me lose track of the main point

Bouvier threw himself into vagrancy,

disorder and anarchy.

He's destructive and must be eliminated.

Like Dreyfus.

Dreyfus may be innocent.

I doubt it.

Anyway it doesn't matter.

Maurras advocated cheating your leaders, friends, colleagues and fellow citizens

when it is for the good of all.

Emil, take advantage of the press. They're covering you.

The pro-clergy ones for his anarchism.

The anti-clergy ones for his piety.

The insanity supporters changed their minds

because circulation was down.

You want me to influence public opinion?

What about judicial confidentiality?

You have their mouth watering.

Don't deprive them of the kill.

If you were in my place,

would you have the courage to do what I've done?

Of course not.

I thought so.

Here's the accordion. I thought so.

Here's the accordion.

With this, Bouvier might have charmed his victims

before cutting their throats.

And the oil...

The 12 known victims were sodomized.

I say "known" because

there might be 20 victims, 9 of them raped.

The rape look like the handiwork of the man you rightly call

the Great Terror of the Southeast.

He always killed the helpless?

Always. In isolated places.

Bouvier killed methodically, almost scientifically.

Then disappeared covering up to 60 km a day.

If he was crazy,

he'd have been arrested in those 3 years.

And the dog that bit him?

Licked him.

Not bit him. We have witnesses.

Send in Bouvier.

Glory to Jesus and Joan of Arc and all the martyrs!

There are 2 sides to every story.

Bouvier, these are Journalists from Paris

here to ask you some questions.

Who wrote that I was the Great Terror of the Southeast?

Better to be a great terror

than to make a great terror.

That's all.

No, stay Bouvier.

Let's hear your questions, gentlemen.

I heard you're fascinated by Joan of Arc?

I was struck by the similarity of our missions.

Like me, she was a martyr,

but in different form and in another time sent to awaken France.

I don't just like her because she was a shepherdess.

What does anarchist of God mean?

In my secret life, I'm the arch-enemy of the true evildoers.

What do you think of the anarchist attacks?

The bourgeoisie gets what it deserves.

No! No accordion!

I wasn't going to play.

"We punish striking workers, why not vagrants?"

To prevent other Bouviers, we need stricter laws.

Longer prison terms for hobos.

Longer prison terms for hobos.

Parasites who seek only to satisfy

their hunger and sexual appetite.

This year there were 18,067 of fences committed by this antisocial element.

It's getting political.

I told you that I'm not politically inclined.

Your Honor!

I'd like to read something I wrote for you.

Go ahead.

Judge Rousseau is man you can trust.

He gained the confidence of the anarchist hobo.

How perfect if Bouvier thought he was his friend.

Fine, but Bouvier will be mad at me.

Don't talk about me yet.

Then when?

Later.

"Little shepherd, and pretty shepherdess

innocently playing pipes.

As your sheep drink from the clear stream.

In the reeds and the ferns,

You dread to see the wolf snatch up a lamb take it to its lair.

But there are greater danger.

You've never imagined.

There are creatures worse than bloodthirsty tigers.

Deadlier than Vampires and more treacherous than snakes.

These madmen commit rape.

And sign their perverse acts.

In the very flesh of their innocent victims.

In the midst of these horrors Appears Bouvier the Great Terror

Bouvier belongs to the breed of tramps and hobos.

Begging their room and board.

Anarchist on the fringe of society.

During harvest and grape-picking.

He lurks around village.

Hiding beneath his hat the strange gleam in his eyes.

Yet he seems like a nice boy when he plays the accordion.

He pursues his long, winding trek

committing numerous crimes until the day he's caught.

He claims that in his youth he was bitten by a dog.

And that the medicine he was given made him feeble-minded.

What's worse, this odious man claims to be inspired by God.

To end my story

I'm waiting for the verdict.

Our country's justice rarely fails.

Good people, have faith in the police and judges and in the court

that will try the man who terrified all France.

In the meantime, let jailors keep watch night and day

on Bouvier."

That's lovely, like I was dead.

God has used me

and the road to vengeance has been terrible.

It's a beautiful song,

but it would be better with an accordion.

Not many people are lucky enough

to hear a song like that in their lifetime.

Not many people are as sick as I am.

For Suzanne.

They are beautiful.

Very festive.

Do you want to see her?

No.

Not here.

I went up...

but sick people scare me.

The nurse said she wasn't unhappy.

She doesn't complain, anyway.

It's hard to talk in hospitals.

I'll send you money.

Why?

I haven't seen you for 3 months.

I know, it's the reporters.

Do you want me to kiss you?

That wouldn't be proper.

Exactly.

According to whom?

If you like.

Go ahead.

No, don't.

Bouvier said with a smirk,

'The only thing I've ever stolen was food from a dog.

Because I'm for justice.

I will be blamed for many crimes,

but I am just a poor lamb who left the fold

for the world of injustice and poverty.

Close the door!

Trying to escape?

I want to go to Sunday mass!

Viva anarchy!

Let him go.

He broke the door to the cell!

Find him another!

Even the asylum conducted mass.

Take my missal to read the prayers.

You'll need it.

I'll use Mother's.

According to the Justice Minister,

you now have the right to a lawyer during questioning.

I no longer need a lawyer.

I just want to go back to St. Robert's asylum.

You'll go back after you see the doctors.

But I agree: Why do you need a lawyer?

You're intelligent.

You don't need anyone helping you to answer questions.

This is taking forever!!

When are the doctors coming?

Next week.

Still no letters from Louise?

I'd have brought it.

What is she waiting for?

I wrote her 7 long letters.

Is she the only woman you have loved?

You know better than that.

You know I have weakness for little angels.

You raped them.

They wanted me to,

to calm my fits of rage and madness.

Go to a brothel!

Brothel women are too flabby.

I prefer shepherdesses.

Little 14-year-old girls...

Even 12-year-olds.

No time to defend themselves.

That's where it starts.

Then you lift their rough dresses up over their thighs.

No panties, not much hair.

You can do whatever you want.

What nasty things to say.

I attacked children because of my illness.

Maybe. ..

I was attracted to them.

Then you're afraid of live women?

What could I do?

A stiff one makes its own law.

What law?

There are no two laws, Bouvier!

The only law is to control your base instincts.

Nice words, but nature speaks louder.

We all have temptations, but we resist them.

For the sake of society.

To hell with society!

I answer to God.

I work for justice.

France is guilty.

There's too much inequality and poverty.

I'm either a great savior,

or a great martyr of the turn-of-the-century,

or one of the chosen ones.

The doctors are here.

You have to understand cause and effect.

Meanwhile put on your shoe.

Welcome to Bethlehem.

France must march into the right direction.

And we need a government

that makes people responsible for their actions.

Urgent notice:

Try to remember,

doctors, with your difficult task and holy mission,

that when dealing with my important case,

you should consider my former state,

rather than my present state.

If I am considered responsible,

how can my responsibility be justified

after I've already been locked up twice?

Postscript:

First postscript:

If I can't be considered irresponsible for my action, who can?

Second Postscript:

It's about time that right-thinking people put blames where it belongs,

on the doctors at the Dole asylum,

the doctors who let me out

and the dog that bit me.

There is nothing left to say.

Excuse me.

Let's hope they don't rule him insane.

He's poor. He hasn't got a chance.

Here, take this.

Go ahead. Don't be scared.

What do you want?

Judge Rousseau?

Yes.

I came 100 km to see you.

I'm allowed to speak to you, madame, because I'm free man, thanks to him.

I was arrested then released because he found the true culprit.

I'm dirty, but I'd like to give you a hug.

I knew Bouvier on the road.

He's obviously...

We'll find out.

I'd like to have a picture of you.

That's easy enough.

If I had money, I could give you a picture of me.

Come with me, my friend.

In Cochin China, gardens are like poems.

Roses have names like.

"Heaven and death are the same color."

And, excuse me, "Gently open your thighs and let the pleasure take over."

Can you picture a French gardener

giving the President a rose called.

"Gently open your thighs"?

Maybe they aren't roses for man.

' Why not?

Maybe you'll go back to Cochin China.

Unfortunately I will.

Why unfortunately?

My enemies are reopening the case.

You said it wouldn't stand up.

It's politically motivated.

My only crime is being a monarchist.

Aren't there judges in Saigon?

Yes as many as you like.

Judges at the beck and call of military fools.

The republicans who want my hide will get it.

They say that Comedie Française hires working-class girls

to dress up as monkeys.

Mother!

Mother!

He is not insane!

He is not insane!

Medical opinion is unconditional.

"Bouvier is a violent and immoral man

suffering temporarily from melancholy.

He's a bloodthirsty sadist

who thinks he's safe because he's a ex-mental patient.

He fight back against society using anarchism, etc."

You were right.

Maybe.

Better than we hoped.

They could have ruled diminished responsibility.

It's embarrassing how servile our medical establishment is.

Well, I invited one of them. Dr. Degueldre, for lunch.

You're invited too. Please stay.

I insist. You've helped me so much.

I'll lend you my houseboy just to see Dr. Degueldre's face.

He'll only be tried for one crime?

That means "Help yourselves".

Thanks to you and your brilliant report.

Doctor, he'll be indicted for all 12 crimes.

The jury will be briefed about them.

But Bouvier will only be tried for the last crime,

the farthest from his release date.

Our report leaves no doubt as to his lucidity.

But he is a mental defective.

Yes, like Ravacnol and all the other fashionable anarchists.

If we didn't execute them, there would be chaos.

Is there Dutch gin in these quails?

It's essential.

I agree. Delicious!

Yes it's very good, Mother.

I never doubted Bouvier was play-acting.

His mystical raptures, incoherent speech,

bouts of violence...

There was something fishy about it.

He knew that claiming to be the son of God would serve him well after his arrest.

- Some wine? - Please.

It's the best local wine.

The only one, in my opinion.

- Villedieu? - No, thanks.

Bouvier wanted us to think he wasn't responsible for his actions.

But lunatics don't act like that.

Admitting you're sick and seeking help is incompatible with insanity.

A madman who knows he's is mad is cured.

The army doctor who discharged him didn't agree.

He examined him for 10 minutes.

There's also Dr. Radeuf.

How much time?

Maybe 5 minutes.

I can't wait to hear the laughter in the court room.

I don't think they'll let him testify.

Those quacks from Salpetriere hospital

and their serious examinations!

To study Bouvier properly,

you have to stand on his left.

From the right, all opinions get distorted.

Took a month to discover that.

I'm now convinced that Bouvier pretends to be crazy to escape execution.

Crazy people don't want to be executed either.

They're also afraid of fire

and won't eat soup that's too hot,

They don't want to suffer or die.

You're giving an incomplete picture of insanity.

Retouch it a little and it will look quite a lot like Bouvier.

If you were the judge?

I'm no longer a judge.

Mr. Villedieu. Once a judge, always a judge.

Maybe. If we were at war, Bouvier would serve his country well.

But we're not at war.

Yes, we are. Against people like Bouvier.

How are you this morning?

Terrible.

I wrote a letter of complaint.

Sick people should be in a hospital, not in prison.

All these bullshit specialists and their bullshit disciplines...

You're like the bishop who burned Joan of Arc.

The Great Millionaire will protect me against you.

- The Great Millionaire. - God, you bastard!

Aren't you scared of me?

No.

Why?

Do you carry a gun?

No, this is my only weapon.

Bouvier.

According to the medical assessment, you're crazy.

Not responsible for your actions.

If you try to kill me, they execute you anyway.

Killing a judge gets you the death penalty.

Sorry, Your Honor.

If I'd wanted to, I'd have killed you earlier.

I've had this knife for 6 weeks.

Don't leave me.

Don't leave me.

I need treatment.

I need treatment.

Don't leave me!

Don't leave me!

Rosati!

I knew you'd come back.

Lift you skirts.

Here?

I said lift your skirts.

Not like this.

Do as I say.

No.

Hurry!

Hurry!

Lie down.

Turn around.

Be quiet!

The worst part is that you're ashamed.

Is that why you came here?

I need you!

Mother,

this is Rose.

I've told you about her.

He wanted me to come.

You took a big risk today at the prison.

He used to like you.

Couldn't last forever.

He is crying.

No, he has a problem with his eyes.

Or he is sad because he was betrayed by a friend.

- What friend. - You.

Is it sane to make friends with your judge?

It's not my fault that he liked me.

Doesn't it bother you that he liked you?

He is a wild animal that I set a trap for.

Do you want to see him?

No. No point.

I was fascinated by this case.

I've regained interest in my career, thanks to you.

And thanks to him.

I have no interest in the execution.

Execution?

He hasn't even been tried yet.

I like your sense of humour.

You've been always funny.

One, two! Platoon to the right!

Tighten the rank! Lift your stupid heads!

I AM A VICTIM OF PRISONS AND ASYLUMS.

Sing, you idiot! That's an order!

Monster! Judas!

You should be here in my place.

Don't cry for me, cry for yourselves!

I didn't sleep last night,

but I'll go bravely into my combat.

She is beautiful.

Bouvier...

She is as beautiful as my Louise.

Poor Louise!

Louise,

neither men nor their weapons can keep me from the guillotine.

Sometimes time is a good master

and few times chance a good judge.

Thanks, Judas!

I'm not dead yet.

First the trial of the anarchist of God!

Good-bye! Everyone is welcome! See you there!

Louise, the problem with this judge is that he doesn't know any poor people.

He lives a sheltered life.

He didn't grow up in a family with 12 children

where every day was a struggle with hunger.

Louise,

I'd like to send you a picture of me so you can see how calm I am,

Like at St. Robert's Asylum.

I don't have attacks anymore,

only tears for the misery that has befallen France

and me.

70,000 people came out to see him die,

there was so much publicity for it.

All of them screaming for blood.

And shaking the executioner's hand.

The paper didn't tell you that they wouldn't let him speak to the people.

He lay down and said, "You'll have to carry me.

I won't give you the pleasure of dying bravely."

Then they took him to the guillotine.

Afterwards they all celebrated New Year's Eve.

The restaurants were full.

It was a big party.

Were you there?

Yes.

I'm Mr. Rousseau's girlfriend.

The judge?

Yes.

The judge.

Now they are saying bad things about him.

They say he executed a lunatic.

It is true.

I should know, after what he did to me.

Do you hate Bouvier?

No.

Why didn't you write him?

I didn't get any letters.

He sent them to a friend who threw them out because

there wasn't enough postage.

Would you have written him?

I'd like to say yes, but I don't know.

Why didn't you testify?

That's not my fault.

I was surprised that they didn't summon me.

Maybe he knew you'd say he was crazy.

I hope your judge is very unhappy-

Oh! Very?

No...

But he is not very happy either.

Does he feel remorse?

Oh no! Not like that.

He thinks they are being jealous and unfair.

What does he expect, the Legion of Honor?

Yes, actually.

I feel sorry for you with a man like that.

I feel like I've already left him.

The public opinion and the press fought for Bouvier's head, and they got it.

Now they want a medal for the judge

whose courage and zeal rid France of a monster.

They were laughed at.

History shows that ingratitude is characteristic of democratic governments.

Judge Rousseau's case is typical.

Here is a man who fought for order and society.

Not thanking him is bad enough.

Condemning him is despicable.

Then there are the doctors and journalists

who after dissecting Bouvier's head, claimed to find physical sign of madness.

These Jewish-influenced Pseudo-scientists

are the ones who want to clear the name of Dreyfus.

Tarnishing the court and the army is the same as tarnishing France!

Judge Rousseau is thinking of quitting.

He needs our approval and support!

Only men like him can exterminate the enemy within,

the cabal of Jews, Freemasons, Socialists and Protestants.

Who exploit, betray and occupy France.

They must be exterminated!

Rousseau! Murderer!

Officers, clear the room!

Don't cry, Mother.

It's nothing.

It'll pass.

It doesn't matter.

Look at me, We will go away, just two of us.

If you sill want me.

They are heading for the factory.

I don't care anymore.

My love, we were unlucky.

There was a war and we were young.

The winter of '70 was filled with suffering.

It only got worse come springtime.

Lilacs will cover the highlands of Belleville,

The slopes of Montmartre and the Meudon woods.

We'll go pick them in happier times.

We're fighting for the Commune and we'll win.

We've heard our comrades say,

"The villains from Versailles are marching on Paris."

You said, “I'm going to the barricades with you.

The place of woman is with her husband."

Soldiers join us!

Wages and bread!

Take aim!

Between 1893 and 1898 The sergeant Joseph Bouvier killed 12 children.

During the same period, more than 2,500 children under 15

years perished in the mines and siik factories, murdered!