Original subtitles

We're a bit fed up with beauty.

It adds to the oppression, it distracts.

What cold light in which to start a revolution!

Oh, independent mountains,

in what slavery they hold us captive,

these foolish rocks, these submissive families!

We bastards do not lack memory.

It weighs on us, as heavy as ice,

but hides its transparency.

Mirrors tell us nothing about reality,

they reflect the duration of your solitude, the cruelty of your masters.

Virtual images that no longer contain the causes.

We've barely outgrown the childhood of signs.

THE BIG NIGHT,

FRAGMENTS

Here, the lake,

languidly soft and smooth,

denoted its movement, its currents.

All we could do is make our way across or around it.

The industry, shamefully, spread west towards motorway junctions

and rooms where people made love half-heartedly,

for lack of time and strength.

The heights were conducive to controlling the social game.

The power, under the pretext of planning urban transport,

kept track of the movement of the masses.

The police did not wait for McLuhan

to charge full force into the audiovisual era.

The revolution is frozen.

What has become of my friends?

Do they miss my silence as much as their words,

their arrogant reasoning, weighs on me?

Your face, Leon, your face...

A mask...

More conviction, for God's sake!

Step, step, step...

The step, the wrong step...

The incorrect step...

We're not shepherds.

The lost sheep are not our problem.

Those watchdogs have "capital" written across their faces.

- Have you got long to go? - Well, yes...

The problem with self-assignment, is that we have to stick around...

I need to change for work at Musil's at eight.

- Can Maurice take over? - That fool's out back.

They'll fire him.

Bitch, get out of here! You're a minor!

What the fuck are you doing here?

Do you even know what a big cock looks like?

You little whore!

You bastard, garbage of a man!

Sell-outs!

We'll be back for you!

Hurry up, Lea... The police are coming!

I will get every one of them!

He pulled his hat down over his forehead and thought:

It's time for me to start my day.

The streets of the capital were deserted.

Just as well, he mused.

His solitude will be less great and he'll blend into the night.

Violence reigns all around.

I need good eyes to see...

Cat eyes.

Night vision.

Violence and violence.

The evident and evil kind.

Order, tradition,

adorn themselves with rags of nature to wage their war of attrition.

And freeze oppression in a playful, stable manner.

What indeed could be more ferocious?

Have you got a light?

I have a golden lighter.

Can I borrow it?

I need to light a fire to heat the milk. I need milk for my little one.

Are you in the police?

No, I have a uniform for night time. I wander around.

I watch the private property.

No, I'm just playing... And what do you play?

I have a flute over there in my tent.

It's beautiful here.

Back home it's cold, it rains.

So, we travel, wander around... We make love with nature.

This year, our little girl is with us.

I'm a dog. A mean one.

I'll head back to my kennel.

But will you lend me your golden lighter?

I don't have a lighter.

Heat the milk with your hands... Create a miracle.

It's a good way to start the day.

After so many years, I discover the first proletarian speech:

The silence of terror.

I feel like a drop of water on a pile of coals.

Did you have time to retype Felix' text about Grailly?

- I had the time, but I didn't do it. - Why not?

Because I'm me.

I don't understand. Do you want Louise to do it? Is it her job?

It's my job. It's your job. And fuck the word job, it suffocates me.

Okay. It's spring... Things will work out.

- Not a reason nor the time to argue. - It's never the right time or place.

Only when you see Marina and hide away in those bars no one ever sets foot in.

And I'm no part of it... To talk about writing, typing or thinking.

- Are you watching me? - No.

I see you when I walk past.

So, what is it then? Are you jealous, fed up or what?

Don't blame me for your absences, your silences...

It's your life and I need to know about it, understand it.

Marina is an activist. We're working together on the crisis.

She does the research, collects data...

We're trying to stay ahead of things, that's all.

That's all?

You?

Well, for now at least.

And my union work is nothing... My preparation for May 1st is nothing...

All the nights I sacrificed for months are nothing?

That makes me nothing!

- We're getting off next. - Next what?

The next stop, Raoul.

- Who's in charge of the collection? - Marina, right?

Will you manage?

Listen, Felix, she might be 17, but she's a comrade like Raoul or me..

You treat her like a child.

I can speak for myself!

People will be wary of a girl her age. No offence, but that's how it is.

It's the objective reality.

Reason politically! Class consciousness isn't measured by sex or hair length.

In '69, Lucien cut his hair to work at a firm.

Supposedly to avoid problems with the workers.

Two years later, the young workers' hair is as long as mine.

And they don't care if their bosses wind them up about it.

In other words,

Lucien should have started there.

Courage and obstinacy are revolutionary qualities, right?

The revolution isn't a pleasure party, comrade.

What do you want?

How much longer are you staying?

Is that your business?

No, it's my boss's business. I just close the doors.

I take down names, pass them on... I take off my hat and go to bed.

Is he a cop or what?

Well, close the doors behind you.

We've paid our rent.

We signed a lease. There's nothing to say.

I say nothing.

Let us work.

We see enough cops all day, at night we want some peace.

I'm not a cop, I'm an actor...

Which actor?

Well, you should watch TV more often. I'm on it every night.

Who is this guy?

Are you telling the truth?

I never lie, Miss.

You've seen us, all you need to do is address management to inform your boss.

I don't inform, I merely pass on.

I'll be back in two hours to switch off the lights, because it's in my contract.

Good evening.

What a pretentious guy.

- Did you catch his number, Felix? - No, he stayed out of the light.

- They're usually proud of their job. - He must be new and an idiot, too!

I'm exhausted. I'm going to lie down...

- Want to take the bus back? - Okay.

Ok, the meeting is adjourned.

Get to the market on Saturday. The weather will be nice, it'll be busy.

Hey pig!

Cop, hold on! Stop!

I don't want to bother you, but I'm on foot...

and I have to get back.

I'll buy you a drink if you like. At the Avenir.

The bar across the road is called the Avenir.

What do you want?

I get lost in the sticks.

All these roads...

These factories... What the hell!

Let's get going, pig!

I'm not a cop.

Yeah, it's all for show.

In this country, you don't know who's who.

Let's go, joker. Get some wind in your sails!

Hold on tight.

Don't worry. I have nothing to lose.

I have to button up my jacket, it's getting cold!

We're here today,

because we know the workers from Grailly live here.

We also know that other workers, employees from other companies,

live in this neighbourhood.

And that all workers are affected by what is happening at Grailly.

We have to unite in the face of the employer's provocation.

Our strength is our capacity to respond as an entire work force.

The factory management must defend its employees.

The speech no longer matters. I've exhausted it.

It finished me off, doomed me to failure.

And here I am, smiling again.

To think about voicing it with a technical distance,

with a hint of desire.

That's something new.

Workers of Grailly!

We can bring the employers to their knees!

No. 7 is running late.

WHEN THE CITY SLEEPS, HE IS YOUR SAFETY.

I saw the cop from the other night.

Where?

On TV.

He was funny.

Will you come stay at mine?

I'd prefer it the other way around. I have to prepare Saturday's meeting.

I have more than just a bed.

There are chairs, a table... Pens and paper.

There's also a kitchen. We can eat, talk...

My books aren't there.

Do you mind coming to mine?

It's not about whether I mind or not.

Okay, I'll come.

I've sold everything. I'll take another pack.

Well, Mr. Actor!

You've changed your costume!

You looked smart on TV!

You've done well to change the scenery. It wasn't my thing and I'm not smart.

- What if we went for a drink? - If?

So, you have a stall at the market, like a butcher?

It wasn't just given to us, we fought for it.

With what weapons?

Well, first of all with the law. With democratic law.

We wanted it and we got it.

So, how come you're a cop?

La Forza del Destino, do you know it?

But that's over... I'm waiting for my next role.

Will you buy a copy of "What is to be done?"?

Why would I?

To understand the world, Mister.

What's your name?

My name's Leon. And yours?

Mine?

Lea.

So, will you buy a copy from us?

Just to understand.

To understand is to recognise the need to fight

and to fight is to change the status quo:

Employers and employees, rich and poor,

thieves and their victims, murderers and the wounded.

I fight every day.

I scheme, skirt around issues, keep to myself, build up my strength.

My freedom depends on that of others. So, I reason, I take action...

I organise myself and build my strength alongside others.

With the workers, the young, with anyone who trusts us,

in the middle of that market.

You live in the here and now, then?

We can't be both spectator and actor. You have to choose sides.

On the inside or outside, alive or dead.

We've made that choice.

Ok then, I'll buy one.

Will I see you tomorrow?

Sunday.

Why? Don't you have a TV?

I don't like blurry images.

Will I see you?

Come by at around 4pm. To the bus stop. I might be there. we have work to do.

Okay.

I'll take that risk.

I hope business goes well!

- Goodbye Lea. - We're not greengrocers. Bye Leon.

Your clientele is essentially female,

situated in the lower and middle strata of the population.

Above them, the rich don't buy.

They tend to be too stingy or cultivated.

In any case, remember, the more doors you knock on,

the higher are your chances of selling. It's mathematical.

So, you all have the basic qualities.

With the tricks I'm going to teach you, we'll soon find out if you're worthwhile.

You should always start with the top floor of a building.

If you take the elevator up, the noise will alert your client

and the element of surprise is lost. Don't dress too flamboyantly.

The client will think: He's rich, he must sell a lot.

And if he sells a lot, he's too strong for me.

He's going to cheat me.

But don't go to the other extreme either or your client will think:

He's poorly-dressed, he doesn't make any money.

He's a tramp. His product is worthless.

When the door opens, smile.

Introduce yourself.

If the door isn't opened wide enough, noisily wipe your feet on the doormat.

Automatically, the door will open wider.

Make use of the movement to take a step forward.

You are inside.

Throughout the demonstration, maintain eye contact with your client.

That way she won't focus on the product.

At all times, try to gain her approval, finish every sentence with a "right?".

"Am I right?"

When concluding a sale,

pull out the order slip with a natural gesture

and ask your client to spell out her name. That will distract her

and allow her to regain herself.

She's registered.

Let's do a test run. You... Mister?

- Louis Dufour. - Mr. Dufour.

You're the salesman, I'm the client.

Go outside, knock and sell me your encyclopaedia.

We're going to record it all on the VCR and we will review it after.

What do you want?

Good day, madam.

My name is Louis Dufour and I represent this encyclopaedia.

What?

I represent this encyclopaedia.

What?

I represent... Well... what do I do now?

My dear, some might be hard of hearing. You have to be prepared for everything.

Who's next?

So, we manifested our anger and shame.

It was about coming together in present conditions,

the least we could do.

Today, hatred and violence take a hold of me and speak for me.

Destroy, they say.

I made the effort.

So did I.

I have to be at the shop at six.

I've been hanging around for four hours...

What are we going to do?

What's to be done?

We'll go for a coffee.

No, let's hit the road. The scenic route...

How about taking the long way around?

- To the countryside? - Almost.

- Will you take me on your bike? - No.

I'll take you with the force of my thumb.

See that tree with the light shimmering through it?

Just imagine, dear, at the beginning of the century,

a man came here from the East to rest from battle.

And that man

fell in love with a woman,

sweet and resolute, and he led her onto this bench.

And what did they do?

What caresses, what words did they exchange?

It doesn't matter.

This man, usually devoted to the battles he waged,

travelled across Europe to make love.

Not far from here, in that farm...

Back then, it was a guesthouse.

Then, beguiled by pleasure,

he returned to his cold country, where a just war was being fought.

He went back to his wife, his weapons, his ideas,

his tools to forge a rebellion...

He went back and forth between battles and passion.

In this garden, he probably weighed up the force of his desire...

He was loved by everyone.

He died with honour.

His battles became an example...

his strategies were immortalised. In short,

his image was engraved in history.

And it was soon forgotten that this mindful man,

had nurtured his intelligence in the full blows of passion.

There you go.

You liked my story?

You're a good storyteller.

I'd have liked to meet your mysterious warrior.

- Who? Lenin? - Stop messing around, Leon!

I never lie.

- Okay... - I already told you that.

I have to go, they're waiting for me...

To no longer settle for what echoes from above.

I have before me space, time...

and things to do... like the popular saying goes.

You saw the colours they come in. And you'll quickly get used to it all...

You can tell your friends, your neighbours about it...

They'll notice it.

You can tell your children.

And I can make you a deal.

You can pay on a monthly basis.

Let's say 100 francs a month to start with.

With our encyclopaedia you'll never come up short,

you'll have the knowledge.

So, how do you spell your name?

Management gradually let things rot...

At that point, the guys who hadn't been paid,

no longer accepted the conditions...

There was no more talk of a strike. They wanted jobs fast.

They fought for their bonuses and that's when they were told

they wouldn't be rehired for three months.

So, we felt... how valuable employment is.

A guy who's jobless...

He's looked down upon. His wife is ashamed. And that's normal.

For forty years, the virtues of hard work were hammered into him.

He hesitates when standing up to his boss.

He hesitates before seeing him as an enemy and not a benefactor.

Not very political, your analysis.

Well, shit...

That's what we felt when seeing the guys at the cafe,

when we talked to them in their homes...

Obviously they don't say it like in the books...

Well, we've tried to work on explaining... Open up discussions...

We made the most of the local population's support.

Grailly's offices are in the German part of Switzerland.

Even just that angers them. Some youngsters are ready

to blow the whole thing up. We have to bear that in mind.

The executives and local management chose to wait,

benefitting from what they could salvage at the time...

The majority of the committee voted in favour of take-over.

And then, as we expected, a month later,

Grailly's letters of dismissal were sent out.

They even had the cheek to have a young guy, an apprentice,

who had been dismissed too, hand them out in the factory...

Three months later, they shut down.

They even asked the poor guy to come in on a Saturday morning.

So then, fortunately... the younger, tougher guys convinced the others

that they were being mistreated by Grailly. That by putting up with it,

they were accepting it.

Eventually the older employees accepted to strike on the Friday,

but they weren't happy about it.

Because their bonuses were due on Saturday.

So, they weren't paid until Monday, by postal order.

And some of these guys really didn't have a penny.

So, we set up another motion in the region and it was great.

The farmers participated. They brought along meat, vegetables...

At 5pm in front of the closed gates, everyone was talking.

It was good. We felt it was going to hold up.

We met at the cafe after... Young people came up to thank us...

They said they'd come to us, if they find jobs...

Some of them signed up to "What is to be done".

It's a small achievement, but it counts. They're the most active,

the most resolute... That's important in this region,

where the church and that fascist paper decide the laws...

And then, it all turned pear-shaped again...

It's sad.

The executives gave their speeches. They convinced the older ones

they'd meet from time to time, to keep in touch...

To meet up for fondue once a month.

To not lose the solidarity they'd built, etc.

Just imagine!

A fondue!

Fighting spirit doesn't just fall from the sky.

We'll come back to that in the seminar, this summer.

I'm on vacation and have to attend classes?

Can you buy me a pack of cigarettes? Do you have money?

I haven't been paid yet, but I have some...

Perfect!

- Will that be all, sir? - Yes.

Could you wrap it up for me? It's a present...

Of course.

...for a very good friend.

Shall we order a flambé?

Honey, you know I love hot and cold desserts...

Waiter, a Coupe Denmark, please!

- Do you have your lighter? - Ah, I left it in the Mercedes.

Very kind of you, sir.

Waiter, a flambé please!

Talking about Denmark... We've just signed a big contract with them.

A first delivery of three tons.

We were meant to unload in Portugal,

but with their revolution, we've had to wait for elections.

Because communist or not, business is business.

They're not as foolish as others though...

Remember when we sold to the Czechs?

I preferred Romania. They have the sea at least...

Well, you can't have it all!

Did you like your Woronoff?

Very tender...

This will cost you a fortune.

If you make money, you must know how to spend it, too.

I'm careful with my pennies at work, but pleasure is pleasure.

And with what's to come,

we can enjoy it a little in advance.

- You know, I saw Roger...

- Volanten's brother? - No, his cousin.

He was buying textiles in St. Gall. He closed his factory

and set up a new one in Thailand. His brother-in-law is running it.

It was a clever move. With the VAT hanging over us...

That makes you laugh.

It's all this wine... Mixing red and white, makes the room spin.

Don't worry about that. It's a Brouilly after all!

Ah, there you go. Your Denmark.

- Superb. - Thank you.

- Your flambé looks delicious, too! - Hold on... I'm switching this off.

Look... It's all blue...

Turn the light back on. I can't see what I'm eating.

Waiter, two coffees and the check, please!

We better get going or we'll be late. The operetta starts at quarter to.

What are we going to see?

Some Spanish play... From Andalusia...

- Are we meeting the town council? - No, they're all eating at the union.

For the jubilee celebration.

Honey, don't you have any smaller notes?

No, we made the deposits today, I don't have any change...

Don't use your shiny new note.

Dinner's on Leon tonight.

But, sir, I don't even know you!

But sir, my husband is buying me dinner.

I don't buy dinner for anyone. I interrupt...

I'm sarcastic... I take and I give.

Goodbye.

Take back your money! You creep!

Look, he forgot all his cigars!

He's a madman!

Will you have a drink with me?

Are you busy fighting the cause?

How about tomorrow?

Do I march? What do you think?

But after the speeches, if you want...

By the lake...

Some fresh air... That always helps.

Will you be on time?

Because I always am.

Why? Because...

In every wait...

there's a moment of doubt. Of being stood up.

To stop focusing on one's impotency.

I want to fight elsewhere, outside the safety of the economy.

Less merchandise, less work...

Agility at your fingertips, inventiveness...

Less fatigue, less premature ageing.

I finally rely on my own strengths.

With kindness, let's make the machines sweat.

Well, hello... What are you doing, Leon?

Well, I'll take you on my yacht.

We'll go to the other shore, where Lea will gain a new perspective

of her home country.

Where the air is transparent...

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Let's go!

- I have to be back in two hours. - But you're like me!

You rebel against time.

The white boats on Lake Geneva always make it back to their home port.

Come on! I've got the tickets, let's board.

- I don't have a say in this? - Exactly, Miss!

So?

So what?

You called me.

- Why the champagne? - Don't you like it?

It's a bourgeois luxury.

That doesn't mean we can't enjoy it.

It's good, isn't it?

Does it bother you?

Come on. Here's to the big night!

- Don't you like Evian? - I never go there.

I went there once.

For the bottlers' strike. A beautiful strike, by the way.

Evian... Its water, its air, its casino... Seriously?

My parents dine there every Sunday.

And after, my mother smuggles back two bottles of "Soir de Paris".

I go there often.

20 minutes and you're in the centre of the world

A 19th century town,

opposite the capital museum...

Did you get a new job?

I'm making money.

Dirty money, but that's all there is.

- You win, you lose. That's the game. - Yes, but you're the boss.

For a worker, it's a different story.

I work, therefore I am worthy.

Look, you can see the casino there.

Is that your thing? Are you a gambler?

Pleasure, calm and bliss.

Sometimes, yes.

Sometimes.

I try to value whatever I abandon, neglect or destroy...

Shall we go up on the deck?

Yes. I feel my face is all red.

It's a colour that suits you.

That's not even funny, but it's still making me laugh!

It's funny, right?

You were both a real and fake cop... Now it's worse.

You're a fake bourgeois, but a real bastard!

The money you make, distances you so much.

You spend it with the same cynicism you earned it.

Where there's money, there's jackals. It's a place of death.

I might be a dog.

But a raging one.

And your tacky morals leave me cold...

Because my life is about immobility and hatred.

We're alone, do you understand?

Take a good look at the people in this damn country

and you'll either see content or misfortune.

The satisfaction of an honest man

and the dried-up tears of the lost and defeated.

And I can't help them, just like they can't help me.

I don't get you, Leon. Get out of your own head! Live with others!

I don't know how to get through to you.

Find a way!

What changes me... Is knowing we contribute to change every day.

Because the world isn't just us.

And I'm content

therefore I'm excluded.

The dominant ideology is: the more we have, the better we are.

- But it's a lie. The big lie! - Yes.

But I know misery and I've had enough of it, thank you.

Do you think you're alone?

And the outcome is, they all work like animals

and that's why we're screwed.

Those are appearances, the surface of things.

In reality the whole world wants to change, but they don't know how.

They don't see the solution, right now.

Okay...

I watch the people.

In the streets, in cafes.

I talk to them, 24 hours a day. Because I have the costumes to do that.

And believe me, this desire for change isn't that evident.

There's even more reason to believe the opposite.

Well, in the end, you know better what they want.

I don't trust people who want to make me happy against my will.

Who pretend to organise themselves with leaders and the whole shebang.

To succeed, you have to be stronger than your enemy and fight on his territory.

You're wrong, Lea. He's strongest in his territory.

Not if you manage to convince those who serve him out of ignorance.

Out of ignorance? That's easy to say.

What if capitalism satisfies a profound need of theirs?

Then we might as well shoot ourselves.

Listen... Another thing that separates us.

We think we're right, but we're not the strongest.

We're working towards that.

The balance of power has to change.

Solitary battles don't stand a chance. We have to unite.

Organise within the fight, win over the masses.

Give them direction. Be the direction.

Yeah, yeah...

We can create a fairer society, where no one is exploited or repressed.

Where my friend Leon will no longer be torn between his desire to know

and his despair of already knowing.

That's all just words!

Right or wrong, it doesn't matter. They're just words.

Buried under a million more, spat out by the TV, by books, by cinema.

If we could compete with the system

to share our ideas, it would be a lot faster.

We launched a subscription to buy an off-set printer.

With the current situation, we're not making much money.

People are losing their jobs,

so obviously the workers have other, more urgent things to worry about.

So, to sum up... Lea doesn't have the means for her politics

and I don't have the politics for my means.

Well, for now at least. But I have the resources.

Okay...

So, I definitely won't be getting my treats tonight.

Not by the shadow of a...

Have you seen that film?

It's the story of a pastor...

who lost his faith, because of an amazing girl,

who transformed everything she touched.

Everything is possible in films.

Shall we head back?

Are you coming?

No, I'll keep going. I want my treats.

I will watch you navigate

towards the misty shores of the revolution over there in Helvetia.

What a poet!

An idea on future love: A little more of everything.

You...

...and I.

And...

the added value: finally non-violent.

Do you have a minute, Raoul?

No, but I can make time. Why?

Because... Because, I have the right to ask you that. Without an explanation.

I just want to see you, talk to you. Me, Lea...

Are you coming?

Okay, let's get some air.

It's been freezing here since summer started.

Are you tired?

No.

I'm not tired.

Well, yes, I am, but it doesn't matter.

I can handle my fatigue.

I can... I know, I've learnt.

A revolutionary knows neither fatigue nor boredom.

My bones no longer belong to me.

Look at us, Raoul.

We have problems, silences...

We build bridges, barriers...

But in the end, our work, the organisation brings us together.

It's time to say it.

We do stand together, but it's this togetherness that rings hollow.

We've decided to fight, once and for all.

To leave our personal matters at the shop or factory doors.

They matter elsewhere...

at another moment.

It takes up most of our days and nights. Right?

- So? - So what?

Do not dominate your passions.

Reason won't do-dominate your passions.

No, no, don't sign.

Don't sign anything.

Hello?

Could you tell your boss I'm quitting? You pay me and we're done.

Because I sold you my hard work.

But it was my mistake. There's no point dwelling on it.

Okay, if you need a plausible reason...

A good reason? Tell him it pisses me off! Will that do?

Okay, now you adjust the ink. No, not there. Here.

- Do you have 80 grams? - What?

The weight of the paper. You need to know that. Can you hand me the pile?

My God, it's heavy.

- Did this machine cost you a lot? - No, it's second-hand.

I have friends everywhere.

- So, do you know how to use it? - I'll learn as I use it.

- You're an expert. Is this your job? - Maybe.

Hello, actor!

Do you have a minute?

Since recently, I've had all the time.

Needless to say, the group appreciates your gesture.

This machine is a great aid for our organisational work.

Well, I know you don't militate, but you're welcome here whenever.

Our comrades will get to grips with the technology.

Next week, we'll print "What is to be done" here.

For us, this is a great step towards autonomy.

I'll read you the beginning of the next issue.

Printed on a proletarian printer, comrades!

"The Leninist organisation has equipped itself with its own printing press.

It's a victory against the bourgeois monopolisation,

information and distribution resources".

- A bit heavy, no? - What?

- That sentence. It's a bit heavy. - You think so?

I'll go back to that later. One thing at a time.

Okay, where was I?

"It's a victory, which entails new tasks for our comrades".

And here, Lea, I used one of your sentences:

"A printery...

is a dialectic tool.

Its administration and production should run by a new method.

The method for which we fight. The socialist method of production".

And then I talk about Grailly, the legal intervention, etc.

Well, I'm off. I'm meeting with the Unionists at the Café Federal. Bye!

Bye Leon. Pop round from time to time.

I don't understand your sentence he read.

Well, keep trying. Reason a bit... Use your head.

So, you have your machine now.

- Are you happy? - I'm not a fan of ambiguity.

- Don't you get what I'm saying? - Ah, no.

Why did you buy this machine?

The real question is "for whom?".

Whatever the reason, it makes us stronger.

A revolutionist should seize any weapon handed to him, if it serves his cause.

This machine is a valuable tool for us. That's all that I need to know.

Yes, but it also means extra work. I won't dare call you anymore...

But this work, doesn't scare us and it doesn't stop me from loving Raoul

nor from seeing you nor from spending time at a café...

Okay, then...

All is well then.

I'm off...

See you soon, Lea.

Who's going to print the Grailly leaflet tonight?

Felix.

Soon, it'll be August.

And then comes September...

Time flies...

Yes, it does.

No, impossible... We're up to our necks in paper.

Well, we're folding, cutting, etc.

Why don't you come around here?

You prefer the great outdoors, I know...

Let's not start this again!

Okay.

Fine.

Five minutes on Saturday.

Time for what?

The ghost ride at the luna park? It's not what I'd usually do...

Okay.

Okay then. Bye! See you on Saturday.

I'm 35... I still don't have a profession, but I have a job.

I'm alone, but at least it's easy.

Things could be worse. I feel good.

My money worries have multiplied and I've other stuff, but I feel good.

Every day, I feel a little more awake...

Shit, I feel alive again!

I no longer expected you to come!

Liar!

Well, I'm here now. Are we still on for the carousel?

It's going to blow your mind!

It takes more than that!

And I need music sometimes.

The fairground reminds me of songs from my childhood. A bit outdated.

Listen to that voice in the distance.

It's also a childhood melody.

What is that?

It's a Palestinian girl... I recorded it from a TV in a café.

Suddenly, this rage for life engrossed the passive ambience.

You should have seen the looks on those protestants' faces!

That voice gives you the shivers.

We should experience that sound...

One day...

Or one night...

What's wrong? Are you cold?

No.

You know, Lenin really did have a mistress in Lausanne.

Ines Armand.

Does that surprise you?

You intrigue me.

No, I'm pursuing you. That's different.

But you know where to find me!

Yes, far away...

Where my voice can't reach you or you don't hear me.

There aren't many images on your walls.

No.

A blank canvas...

- But I might still fill it. - I tore everything down.

I was tired of only sticking up my desires...

Portraits of exemplary activists, and I went to sleep peacefully.

Right,

I'll get dressed and we'll go to the fairground.

I'll wait for you in the staircase.

Shy?

Prudent...

These undesired celebrations are pointless!

Not if there's a desire to celebrate...

- You have a way with words after all. - Not with words, but in between them...

It's the silence that connects them,

the space between them that leaves me speechless.

- Was the machine a hyphen between words? - No, that was a stroke of genius.

I just wanted to see you.

- You'll never make a move! - Maybe...

But when I move, everything trembles... So, I hesitate...

I'm not scared of the risk, I'm scared of being weakened.

- Alone? - No.

When you start deducting, you end up in the red.

Okay, watch out!

- I'm sending you off! - What?

Hold on tight! I'm letting you go! See you soon!

In this situation,

the only option is armed combat. The goal:

To implement a Proletarian dictatorship by popular uprising.

In a first phase, the method is guerrilla, rural and urban.

To train revolutionary leaders and militants

and break the army, capitalism's backbone.

The Cubans, the Tupamaros proved that it's possible.

I agree with armed combat, but the MIR tried that and failed.

The MIR didn't have a correct analysis.

The keenest ones ended up as Allende's bodyguards.

The situation has changed... Perhaps before the coup,

armed combat wasn't the answer. It's different now.

Be careful!

We can't claim that weapons are the only way to fight fascism.

In reality, revolution doesn't exist without armed combat. Not in Chile

nor elsewhere...

The class in power won't leave on its own accord,

only if bullets force them to.

Mao, Castro, Lenin all came to power using weapons.

For some it's the right path.

It helps to clearly separate revolutionaries from reformists.

Okay, but it's dangerous.

I mean, it permits the right to fight back.

And for them to accuse revolutionaries of being criminals.

We might as well. We'll always be criminals to them.

Isn't the development a bit too long?

Sometimes, you have to take the time to listen.

And break the habit

of using work at the printery or elsewhere as an excuse,

in order not to do or think about the things that make us move forward.

It's like the big night is every day for them.

Ah, Leon.

You're here.

I arrived at the height of violence.

It's on the agenda. It has to be said.

Do you agree with us?

Perfectly...

The revolutionary act,

I see it like the possibility of any act.

Act as if it were.

My senses sometimes give me reason. Sometimes they prove me right.

Are you crazy, Leon?

Well, I say...

Dear God, look at that colt!

Go get Raoul!

Put those away Leon!

What's gotten into you?

What's up with you?

So, it was you! Bravo! You did it!

They're already accusing us.

You're a provocateur, Leon!

I didn't think twice about the machine...

I trust Lea...

She told me you're seeing each other, you talk.

We trusted and accepted you.

We have nothing to hide. We fight without masks.

But this!

This puts us in danger!

Deep down, perhaps you're really a cop, right?

We're not the Desperados, Leon, we're the builders of a new society.

Any slip-up and the police is on our back! And we have to start all over!

Okay...

I say we take a vote.

A vote on what?

What if we keep the guns?

Out of the question!

We vote for Leon to be excluded immediately!

No need to exclude him, he was never admitted.

This is a political issue. A question of principle. We have to vote!

We're not voting like this...

We have to think about the consequences.

Sorry, Leon, but if you're arrested...

Don't worry, Lea.

Whatever happens, I don't know you guys.

It's not a complete lie, right?

I won't get you involved.

I'm not convinced.

A guy like you...

What's even less convincing is a guy like you! All this talk and no revolution!

You're all for words, schemes, certainties!

But when someone takes your word on a serious issue...

Shit! Go ahead then! Vote!

Ladies and gentlemen.

For exclusion.

I'm content, therefore I'm excluded.

Do you remember?

Ruin democracy!

Comrades...

If someone is unclear about what happened here tonight,

we can talk about it.

I can clarify, for him.

It's only about violence. We've talked about this.

We take responsibility for our violence. And weapons too, if we need them.

But this is neither the place nor the time.

We're not prepared for that.

Violence of the masses, yes!

Violence of an isolated group, no!

Individualist terror has never worked anywhere!

It's anarchy and we must condemn it.

René, put these guns away!

Give him back his bag! Hurry, before he disappears!

What's wrong with you, Lea?

This isn't funny.

"We have reason to rise up.

To revolt.

I revolt.

I transform myself.

I talk to you".

Good evening. Do you have your ID on you?

No, but I'm from here. And you?

We must check the ID of people wandering the street at this time of night.

And there's no point ignoring the law.

Every citizen is required to prove their identity, at any time of day or night.

I have nothing on me.

Really?

You'll have to come with us then. It won't take long.

- Well, take me with you then... - You're cheeky.

- You think so? - Let's go, sir!

- Is that bag yours? - Yes.

It's a bit late to be doing sports.

It's not a ball. There are guns in there!

Dear God, Marcel! Call for back-up!

- You! Don't move! - Don't worry...

And we were being polite... You piece of shit!

Have you ever had an abortion, Lea?

Yes. Why?

When I left the clinic yesterday. I went to Dr. Bratschi.

They kicked me out, two hours after the operation.

Luckily, Luc was there. He gave her hell.

- Do you know Bratschi? - No.

I went to the commission, I had my certificates...

You seem sad, Marina.

No. It's just the end of a story... The beginning of another.

- I've grown up. - You weren't taking the pill?

No, I used a diaphragm and spermicide. The gynaecologist recommended it

because of my weight. Luc pulled a face, every time I had to go to the bathroom.

In the morning, it'd take me two attempts, I was always half asleep.

Luc didn't say anything, but I felt it wasn't working for us.

We made love less often, took less pleasure in it.

And we still didn't talk about it.

In the end, Luc didn't come anymore. I got pissed off.

One night, I went to his house at 2am. I was a bit drunk.

His parents weren't happy.

His father works at Musil and has to get up at 5am.

So, I cornered Luc in his room

and said: "I'm not leaving till you tell me what's going on."

He told me he couldn't stand me using a diaphragm.

He couldn't feel by stomach, my skin... The cream disgusted him.

I mean, you have to apply it everywhere.

Especially in the mornings, it turned him off.

We no longer made love first thing. I had to get up, wash...

Well, he started thinking I was a whore.

We had to plan our moments of pleasure. And the pleasure was dwindling...

He decided to wait. He didn't know how to tell me.

He was afraid of hurting me.

As if that piece of rubber was a part of me.

That night I stayed at his, we fucked like crazy.

I had thrown my little plastic case out the window.

The next morning, his mother looked at me as if I were a whore. We didn't care.

We hung out in the kitchen.

Then a month later, I was pregnant.

We rushed to the gynaecologist, Luc and I.

Luc was upset, I wasn't. I'll find something else, don't know what.

Find yourself...

- Myself? Where? - Find where you're at. That takes time.

Start from there, your stomach, your studies...

Luc, who is by your side...

Turn that all into a whole.

Give it a try at least.

- Have you managed to do that? - I'm learning to...

- Is it Leon? - It's me and him.

- Are you going to see him again? - That depends on him.

- It's getting cold. Shall we get going? - Let's wait. I find, we're okay.

Did you notice, we say "I find" whenever we search for something.

You're right. How strange.

Oh shit! The sausages!

"We will invent a new topography.

Our avenues lead towards the heart of the city; Touching our hearts,

moving us away from the enemy's path".

He walked past. Quick, get out of the car!

- Is someone waiting for him? - No, no one.

He's running, the bastard! Hurry up!

Look, the stadium!

- Is there a match on Sunday? - I don't give a shit.

Watch out, he's turning around.

- Shall we follow him on foot? - It might be best.

He might take the steps.

Oh God, the barracks! Is he going to put them back?

- What? - The guns.

I'd advise him to.

- Just imagine, such a blatant offence! - He's going up Valentin.

- Let's go. - Slow down! I'm not in my 20s anymore.

It's our duty, Marcel.

I'll follow you, but there's no need to exaggerate.

He's crossing the square of the university.

- He's just wandering around. - The cheek!

He's lighting a cigarette.

He's closing his eyes.

Is it drugs?

You have a keen nose, Marcel. At this distance...

- Are you taking the piss? - What do you think?

He's crossing the bridge.

- On the pedestrian crossing? - Next to it...

Little bastard, he's taunting us.

What did I tell you!

He's rushing down the steps...

No, I'm not running anymore.

Next time, I'll do the stakeout on my own!

- You wouldn't dare! - Don't move! He's come to a halt.

- He seems surprised. - Has he spotted an accomplice?

- No, a girl. - Is she pretty?

- See for yourself! - You're blocking my view.

She seems sweet.

Sure of herself.

- Maybe it's his wife. - He's not married.

Is he moving?

- He's stepped into the shadows. - Seriously?

He owes her something.

- Money perhaps. - Or thwarted love. She cheated on him.

He doesn't seem heartbroken...

- Tired perhaps. - It's not sleep he's lacking!

- He's leaving! - Is she following him?

- She hasn't seen him. - They have a code?

Let's follow him!

He's going back to his place.

- Did you bring your crepes? - No, but I'll make myself light.

Let's walk close to the walls.

- They have ears, you know! - Funny!

- You can't take a joke! - Let's take the staircase.

A woman's voice...

It's about war...

I can't understand it. Can you see something?

He's smiling... He's alone.

It must be a record.

A poem.

- There it is! - What!?

He has a gun. He's seen us. He'll shoot!

You're kidding!

- Is he going to kill himself? - Yes, he's going to shoot himself!

No, shit.

- He's putting it away. - Where?

- Under the mattress. - Someone's coming!

- It's her. - I told you.

- What? - A clandestine rendezvous.

She's hesitating.

Smiling, too.

- They definitely know something. - What? A conspiracy?

She's left.

- Do you think she's dangerous? - We'll worry about her later.

Let's focus on him.

Passion... Passionately...

I... I love you. I love you.

I love you passionately.

It's about love now.

Another record.

- He might have a stutter. - Who?

The voice!

- Ah, I get it! - What?

I love you passionately.

Are you crazy?

No.

That's the voice talking.

The same one.

We've got him!

I love you passionately...