All language subtitles for Les.Anarchistes.2015.FRENCH.1080p.Bluray.x264.AAC-HazMatt

Can you tell me about your former life,
your memories?

l remember the rain and huge storms
at home some days.

Once they passed,
l'd go out with my brother

and our neighbour, Jeanne.

She was a bit older than us.

l must have been twelve.

That was where she taught us.

Out in the countryside.

She'd talk of the wind,
the stars, plants, algebra too.

l'd ask questions
and she loved to answer,

to explain and teach me.

When l came to Paris, l knew
l wanted to be a teacher too.

But with her liberty and candour.

And what happened in Paris?

l worked for a dressmaker
to earn my living.

l didn't have the savings you need
to start out as a teacher.

That was where
l discovered exploitation.

l saw the others' suffering,
their bloody hands,

the cut fingers...

The seedy foreman who gropes you,
the boss who doesn't see you...

The naive girl l was soon vanished.
That was sad.

My anger grew within me.

An anger that overwhelmed me,
that l couldn't control.

That's when l joined my brother.
And Elisée.

They were still on Rue Championnet.

People came there a lot.

They would talk and argue...

They'd make love too.

Listening to them,
l rediscovered my happy youth.

The time
when happiness seems possible.

No, not possible. Obligatory.

Then my brother died.

Now l'm here, at your place,
with Elisée.

See, it's not very cheerful.

Why did you become an anarchist?

You might think it was out of hate...

But it was love.

Love made me become an anarchist.

THE ANARCHlSTS

Jean Albertini? Follow me.

Why are you a simple police constable?

l don't understand, sir.

You write well.
You could sit the inspectors' exam.

l had no time for that.
l needed to eat.

- Where did you learn to write so well?
- At the orphanage.

You had a good teacher.

The best of all, sir.
Victor Hugo.

- You like books?
- Very much.

What are your political views?

l don't have any, sir.

- Did you know your father?
- No, not really.

He was a communard.
We have a file on him.

- l didn't know.
- And your mother?

- What about my mother?
- ls she alive?

No.

- No other family? A girlfriend?
- No.

lf you vanished tomorrow,
who would care?

My landlady.

l owe her two months' rent.

- l'd like you to work for me.
- Doing what?

lnfiltrating an anarchist group.

- l know nothing about anarchists.
- l know.

So why me?

l like you and you look the part.
You inspire trust.

Can l see Martha?

- We're serving lunch.
- Just for a minute.

What are doing here?
l said l'd meet you later.

Exactly.

l won't be coming tonight or again.

l'm busy. What is it?

l can't tell you.

You're leaving me?

lt's sick, telling me here.

- We'd have lived like paupers.
- l get the message.

- You're horrible.
- You'd do the same.

l've had an offer
l can't refuse.

l can become a new man.

l had to tell you.

And the new man won't want me?

l don't think so.

Bastard.

Here. This is a book l like a lot.

- You leave me and give me a book?
- lt's all l have.

Know what l do with it?

- Martha...
- l'm coming.

- The masters want their soup.
- Always more.

l'm sorry, Martha.

No, you're not.
Go. You'll come to a bad end.

Next!

lt pays four francs a day,
from 6 to 5, with an hour's break.

Any lateness will come off your pay.

- Got your outfit?
- Yes.

Sign here.

Next!

lt pays four francs a day,
from 6 to 5, with an hour's break.

Any lateness
will come off your pay.

- Suits me.
- Got your work clothes?

l'm wearing them.

Sign here.
Mark a cross if you can't write.

Don't arrive drunk.

Got a smoke?

l met a girl at a dance
two nights ago.

l pick her up
and, at 2, we go to her place.

We drink, sleep together...
lt was good.

ln the morning,
l wake in a sweat.

l open my eyes...
The curtains are on fire.

Even the bed's mattress is burning.

l can't wake the girl.
l shake her but still nothing.

l don't know what to do.
With the flames, her arse was smoking!

l look at her again and think,
''lf we make it, l'll never leave her.''

We'll be bound for life.

Finally, she wakes and we go out
naked in the corridor!

- Seen her since?
- No...

But it was a great start for love.

You need heat
between a man and a girl.

Falling in love is the only thing
worth living for.

Ever been in love?

l don't think so.

You'd know if you had been.

- What caused the fire?
- My bottle of rum.

Or my cock. lt's a flame-spitting dragon
when it's turned on.

Why? You like fire?

l know a few things l'd burn down.

- Want some?
- l could die for some.

- A guy ready to die for sausage!
- l know plenty.

l'll introduce you.

Eugéne...

Jean, the new guy l mentioned.

He wants to butcher the foreman too.

Everyone does.
That's the price of being a boss.

- Want some?
- No.

- You don't drink?
- Not at work.

The only sober guy in the nail works!

Cheers all the same.

Look at that jerk.
Go on, run, don't get wet.

You have 1 5 more minutes.

1 5 minutes is too much, my lord.

Elisée, want some?

- Want some?
- Please.

September 1 2th, 1 899.

All week,
l've watched Elisée Mayer

who works on the same lane as me.

Two other men, Eugéne and Biscuit,
are always with him.

Biscuit, whose real name l don't know,
is friendly and a bit vulgar.

He can help me to overcome
Mayer's wariness.

They hear the song
of their fearful breath

With a scent of vegetal,
rosy honey

lnterrupted by a whistle

Saliva drawn back on the lips
or the desire to kiss

They hear their black lashes
flicking over perfumed silences

Their soft, electric fingers crackle
among the grey indolence

Beneath their regal nails,
the death of small lice

The wine of laziness overcomes him

The sigh of an insane harmonica

With the gentle caresses,
the child feels

A desire to weep
swell and fade without cease

My letter to the prosecutor.
l hope you'll like it.

We're listening.

- l can read it?
- Of course.

''Dear Prosecutor Lacambre,

''l read in this morning's paper
that you plan

''to offer 1 ,000 francs
to anyone who shoots an anarchist.

''Please retract that remark
for it is unworthy,

''not only of a politician
but of a man.

''lt would help society if,
instead of laws, you made hats,

''coats or even boots,
or anything useful to others.

''l hope for a society
free of all controls

''except on a personal level.

''lf you wish to shoot an anarchist,
it won't cost you 1 ,000 francs.

''Simply come to my rooms
and open fire on me.

''lt won't cost you a thing.
l'll offer no resistance.

''l shall stand before you
at the distance you wish,

''in the presence of witnesses.

''However, if the payment
of 1 ,000 francs

''is a non-negotiable aspect
of your offer,

''after allowing you to shoot,

''l'd like to give that sum
to bodies working for a free society

''without murderers, beggars,
presidents or parliamentarians.''

You made it then!

Have a seat.

You know Eugéne...
And Elisée, his cousin.

Elisée...

Marie-Louise, the artist.

And Judith, the orator.

And who's he?

Jean.
l'm at the nail works with them.

- Not bad, is he?
- Not bad.

But short and handsome.
l prefer tall and ugly.

- So why haven't you fallen for me?
- You're not tall, you're fat.

- Happy Jean or sad Jean?
- Jean Albertini.

- Where are you from?
- Villeurbanne.

l worked at a printer's.

Why the hell come here?
Printworks aren't bad.

- For a change.
- A change?

ln Paris?
There's no air here.

Can l buy you a round?

Once he comes, throw it away.
l'll have more next week.

You're saving my life.
l owe you.

Got a cigarette?

- That was a fine speech earlier.
- Thank you.

- Funny too.
- Surprised a girl can be funny?

No.

What's your name again?
l know it's a biblical one...

A lot of names are.

- A heroic woman?
- Like many.

She cuts off heads?

One head. Just one.

Salome.

Your hearing's bad.

Or l need to wash my ears.

Getting acquainted?

l'm bored, l'm going.
How about you?

l'll come too.

See you.

See you, Judith!

Turn round.

Go on, turn round.

Perfect. A real little anarchist.

Here. My report.

l have more.
A week of meetings held everywhere:

in cafés, in apartments,
even under bridges.

- Do they ever sleep?
- Not often.

What's the audience like?

All kinds:
workers, the unemployed,

craftsmen... Artists too.

Mostly young people.

l've finally met Mayer's whole group,
all five.

The two from the works
and two girls.

Are they beautiful?

You know if a girl's beautiful or not.

- Not my type. Too forward.
- Forward?

- Obscene even.
- Are you a virgin?

- Sorry?
- Are you a virgin?

No.

You've never made love
to a woman you really love.

Be wary, they're sentimental.

Be like them to fool them.

- l'll do what l can.
- What you can?

lncompetent's words.
How can we get ahead like that?

lf you want to get ahead,
there's a meeting tomorrow.

Send a few men to stir up trouble
and l'll improvise.

This is for you.

The only way to get heard
is to form a union,

independent and organised.

Let's unite our forces
to impose higher, decent wages.

But we'll never get
what the extremists demand.

They discredit us
and make us look like ignorant fools.

We need to unite by trade.
Typographers, metal workers, painters...

Each group
then elects its representatives.

You say that,
but a year from now you'll forget us.

ln two years, you'll be in parliament,
in three, you'll get bribes

and in four you'll vote laws against us!

l'll say three simple things.

Never negotiate, never vote
and take arms when need be.

Want to get us killed?

You can't see you're stronger than them
because you're hungry.

We need good men in parliament,
like the socialists.

- They represent themselves well?
- Yeah...

They only talk about action plans
that will never succeed.

When you vote for them or anyone,
you vote for the lawmakers,

who protect the rich
and kill the poor.

- What do you suggest?
- You know, Victor!

End all compromise,

take money where it lies
and prepare for street fighting.

That's ridiculous.

We must prepare to fight!

They'll attack us.
We must defend ourselves.

Their idea of progress
has put us to sleep.

What progress, my friends?

Where's the happiness they talk about?

What is happiness?
lt's reading,

it's kissing, it's thinking...

Happiness is living, being free,
outside a union!

You're a pain in the arse
with your dreams.

Yes, l have dreams!
You need some too.

Or nothing will change.
When the old world croaks,

it'll come about
because of dreamers and madmen!

The pigs!

Will you be OK?

Fortuné Henry is against tobacco.
l see why.

Who?

An anarchist.
Emile's brother.

Got a smoke?

- Here.
- Thanks.

lt's brave,
doing what you did to that cop.

Or suicidal.

- You're suicidal?
- l think so.

What'll you do now,
apart from kill yourself?

No idea.

Forget the nail works.
They'd have fired us one day anyway.

lt's me.

- Where were you?
- The cops beat me up.

Jean saved me.

- A fine evening!
- Come in.

ls everything OK?

- What happened?
- l got beaten up.

l'm here thanks to this man.
l owe him a drink.

- What'll you do now?
- Have a drink.

Have a drop more then
to clear your mind.

What is it, Eugéne?

lf we scared them,
they wouldn't attack.

We need to wake up.

Classes for the toothless
are a joke.

Don't say that.

Education's fine, the toothless too,
but where does it get us?

You think it's all useless?

Some are ready to fight.

Look at the Black Band.

That was 1 5 years ago.
They're all dead.

Sorry, but why is he speaking?

What's he doing here anyway?

l'm being hospitable.
Not one of your principles?

Not rapid enough for you?

You're right.

Let's throw parties, drink and smoke.
That's all we can do.

- He's right.
- You think that too?

They only understand violence.
You talk too much. lt's a waste of time.

Your fine words charm others,
but tell us what you plan to do.

You talk about taking up arms,
but when?

When?

Got a plan worked out
or it depends on your mood?

You're scared to death
of actually doing something?

Well, Jacques wasn't.

Quiet, Eugéne.
Keep your mouth shut, OK?

Come and have a drink.

When l arrived in Paris,

l felt l was truly entering the world.

The noise, the crowd, the girls...
l knew none of that.

l never knew
there could be so many buildings.

There was nothing back home.

This city is our country.

- You're Parisian?
- l was born in Spain.

My parents were communards
fleeing the reprisals.

We came back in 1 880,
but life had changed.

They never got over it.

- Are they still around?
- Dead.

And yours?

My mother caught meningitis
when l was 8.

A month later,
she was gone.

My father...

A few vague memories...

My real parents were the nuns.

But they didn't smell as nice.

When the workers are no longer
exhausted by tiredness or hunger,

you'll see flames rise to the sky,
flames everywhere.

''Only audacity,
the enemy of every rule,

''can vanquish the state.''

Bakunin.

You know your classics.

Are you all right?

Not really.

lt only happens the first times
with hooch.

You'll get used to it.

- lt's not the first time.
- You must lack practice then.

l reckon so.

- You all live here?
- Yes.

- Your hands could dirty the walls.
- We wash them now.

lt's beautiful here.
lt almost hurts the eyes.

l felt that way too,
but you get used to it.

You can get used to anything.

Especially beautiful things.

- l hope we'll meet again.
- l'm sure we will.

What a sight,
these windows, these grey rooftops,

the melancholy it all gives off...

Don't you find it sad?

l'll show you where l grew up.
That's sad.

- You laid into that young cop.
- lt had to look good.

- They fell for it?
- Yes.

l went back to their place.

- Where?
- Marie-Louise Chevandier's.

A very large and beautiful apartment.
lt's in the report.

What does this Marie-Louise do?
ls she married?

- She's an artist.
- An artist? What kind of artist?

- l don't know.
- A whore, more like.

- Do you have my money?
- You don't miss a trick.

- l don't work for nothing.
- No, for the Republic.

Stick to them like glue.

l want it all:
their friends, their enemies,

who they eat with, who they fuck.
All of it.

Roberto Albertini,
born March 23, 1 853, in Villeurbanne.

Tall and stooped.

Trouble walking from back pain.

Former communard.

Abandoned wife and son in 1 880
to move to Paris and forge coinage.

Last known abode
at Madeleine Lesage's,

13, Rue Popincourt.

Died in Paris on April 1 5, 1 897.

This is it.

The remains of an anti-communard
who fired on the crowd.

Buried with his jewels.
Check.

Here.

We'll meet back here.

- Hold on a second.
- What?

- lf he's dead, l can't.
- So why the hell are you with us?

lt'll be all right.

Enjoy it.

Shit.

Forgive me, Lord.

Forgive me.

The bastard...

Let me see.

Here...

This is Biscuit's room.

He dozed off here the first night
and refuses to move.

This is Judith and Elisée's room.

She works all the time.
She works or she sleeps.

This is my room.

- Known each other long?
- Jacques, Judith's brother introduced us.

We frequented the same café
full of odd people.

This is Eugéne's room.

- You must have seemed odd too.
- You find me odd?

l don't know...
A girl like you with them...

We share the same hatred.

- All this is yours?
- My parents'.

They're in lndochina.

They entrusted me
to an aunt l see once a week.

We're not fond of each other but...

l attend her dinner parties
and she leaves me in peace.

You can sleep here. Will it do?

lt'll do.

The mattress is old but soft.

You're an artist?

Yes, l write.
l mean, l'd like to write.

The sheets are in the drawer.

lt's for your diary?

Can you give me your name?

- Biscuit.
- Your real name.

That is my real name.

What's the next question?

Where are you from?

lt depends.
For a drama or a romance?

Come on, answer, please.

Paris. Les Halles.

- The only true Parisian?
- The others are provincial.

Apart from you.

- What did your parents do?
- Butchers.

You didn't want to follow them?

l did. l considered it.
l even worked for them.

But duty called and l had to leave.

What do you call duty?

What we're doing together.

Living, not surviving.
Not letting the pessimists crush us.

- Fighting, see.
- You speak like a fighter.

lf we don't do it, who will?

When Emile Henry was guillotined,
no one watched.

Just a dozen guys and his mother.

He tried to shout, ''Long live anarchy!''
but couldn't utter a sound.

The autopsy revealed

that the poor guy died
before the blade fell.

He had died of fear.

The chief of police

saw the body and asked
for bits of skin to be cut off.

The doctor cut pieces
the size of a finger.

What did he do with them?

He sold them to collectors
and kept one piece on his desk

as a trophy
to inspire fear and respect.

That's how anarchists end up here.
As relics.

As hunting trophies.

To Emile.

To Emile.

Sun?

Cloud.

Street?

Rat.

Dick?

Big.

Bee?

Sting.

Bakunin?

Bearded.

Jesus?

Ravachol.

Judith?

Beautiful.

Dynamite?

Boom.

Heaven?

Not right away.

Thief?

Butterfly.

Got a smoke?

Not on me.

Elisée now.

Book?

Study.

Friendship?

Forever.

- Jean!
- Yes?

When l said you were beautiful,
l meant it.

True, l'm not bad for an anarchist.

- Louise Michel has a moustache.
- And Emma Goldman is a fat goose.

You can't kiss me.

- Why not?
- l'm not free.

You're not free?
What anarchist says she isn't free?

So, tell me, Jean,
what does an anarchist say?

''Kiss me quickly, right now.''

Or something like that.

Kiss me quickly, right now,
or something like that.

''The crate sounded hollow
with no indication

''that it contained
the necessary 1 ,000-franc notes.''

- ''lt was a...''
- Any coffee?

Here.

Thank you.

l'd like some too.

l started badly and l'll end badly

Thank you.

lt's how l trap women.

Does it work?

When he has nothing to say,
you have something to read.

Thanks a lot.

What is it?

Nothing...

- l'm looking at you.
- l can see that.

l keep wondering why you worry me.

No idea.
Only you can know that.

Even though you're kind and polite, l...

lt's no use. l don't like you.

He's just jealous.
He hates Elisée liking you.

l like him.

- What shall we talk about?
- Private things.

You want to know
if l'm in love with you?

- You don't love anyone.
- That way, l'm free.

When did you come to Paris?

When l realised
l'd never get ahead in Rouen.

l'm the opposite.
l've never wanted to get ahead.

So tell me about Paris.

l joined Elisée and the anarchists.
l found them too talkative.

l preferred the partisans
of individual reclamation.

Thieves?

There are three ways of living:
working, begging or stealing.

l'm not against the first but...

l don't want to enrich
those who'll crush me.

Begging...

l can't do that.
l have too much love for mankind.

So what's left?

Theft.

You never have any scruples?

l recover what the landlords take.

And when you steal a kiss
from me?

Even less when l steal a kiss,
you filthy bourgeois.

Jean...

- Help me, Elisée's having a fit.
- What?

Elisée's having a fit.

Hurry.

Come on, Elisée.

- l can't.
- You can.

You can!

Gently...

l'll get some water.

Here...

l had a fit like this before but...

Judith wasn't here.

l forget where you were.
Maybe you'd begun to love me less.

l've been agitated before, of course.

Usually Judith was around

to calm me because this girl
finds the right words to calm you.

But she wasn't around
and l got scared.

l wanted to take a dose of laudanum,
but l took three.

Half an hour later,
l started howling.

Marie-Louise arrived.
lt seems l slapped her...

A doctor we know came
and he said it was nerves.

Nerves...

Of course it was nerves.

Do you know why my nerves
were in that state?

Not for some dumb mental reason,
but for a political one.

As if our humiliations
and those of the workers,

as if all the rage stored up inside

since my father's time
had wrecked my nervous system.

People say the anarchists are mad
and it's true.

But they don't realise
the system creates that madness.

lt's mathematical, see.

- No!
- lt's OK!

Leave us now.

''l kill myself

''when l agree to stay in a place
that the sun never enters.

''l kill myself by doing hours of work
l know to be useless.

''l kill myself when my stomach

''lacks food
of the right quantity and quality.

''l kill myself each time l obey
men and laws that oppress me. ''

Just a second.

l'm coming.

October 9th, 1 899.

The anarchists view me as a comrade,
particularly Elisée Mayer

whose political radicalism
and intense melancholy

affect his judgement of me.

Yet none of them have spoken to me
of contact with foreign comrades.

Their inaction makes me doubt
the necessity of my mission.

Jean?

Come here, please.

Yes?

You're going out?

- l'm looking for work.
- We have better to do than that.

- What?
- You'll see.

What's wrong?
What's going on?

He says the pigs spotted him.

He's drunk himself helpless.

They're in the living room.
Eugéne's here.

Prosecutor Lacambre wants me arrested
and sent to Devil's lsland.

- She wants me to flee.
- Yes, l do.

To Brussels?

What'll l do in Brussels?
The place is too dull.

- Missing Paris will drive me mad.
- You'll write.

l write.
lt's no protection from madness,

believe me, nor from the police.

- Got something for me?
- Yes.

l have other jewels to sell.

l wanted to ask about the Austrians.
What are they waiting for?

Who's he?

A new comrade.

Jean... Albert...

Where's he from?

- He's from Villeurbanne.
- Who does he know there?

My great aunt
and your old lady's friends.

- What is this?
- l don't know you.

l've never seen you anywhere.

- Who is he?
- Listen... He helped me out.

- He's no anarchist!
- Stop, Albert.

And you, in your bourgeois outfit
and rings?

You have the full kit?

A flat cap and a scarf
make you an anarchist?

There are snitches everywhere!

Calling me a snitch?

Just drop it, Jean.

Marie's right.
Leave Paris.

Not like that.
They have his description.

Give me your gear.

Jacket and shirt.

The lot.

No, l'm not giving you my clothes.

- Give him your clothes.
- The guy insulted me!

The snitch won't give you a thing!

What kind of meeting is this?

What have you just done?

Who are you trying to look like?

- l couldn't give him my clothes.
- What?

Not my jacket...

- Why not?
- Because.

Because?

lt's my father's.
lt's all he left me.

l'd give it to a guy
who treats me like a dog?

lt's your father's jacket?

Got a handkerchief?
l want to cry.

You couldn't have said?

l have to tell him my life story too?

Never do that again.

What do l do with his clown outfit?

Do you love him?

He loves you.

Elisée gave up on love
a long time ago.

What does ''gave up on love'' mean?

He loved my brother.
l'm just his shadow.

How did your brother die?

Dynamite.

They found him in two pieces.

Dynamite can't abide clumsiness.

He was planning an attack?

No, he was just trying
to impress some guys.

Nihilists
he and Elisée met in Brussels.

Austrians.

Elisée's waiting for them?

l don't know.

Yes, you do.

Why are you here?

What?

Here with us.
What are you after?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

l just want to be with you all.

Why?

Because l have no family.

And you accepted me.

That's why.

That's all.

Mr and Mrs de La Boulay
leave together on the 6th

and won't be back before April.

The Bourneuils are going
to their estate near Orsay.

Madam leaves Tuesday.

- Separately?
- The husband at the end of the week.

But don't go Saturday.
Note that, Judith.

Sunday is safer.
They never miss mass.

Neither do we.

Elisée, touch this
and l'll slaughter you.

Mr De L'Azure dines
with my aunt on Tuesdays.

He arrives at 5 and leaves at 1 0:30.

He's a swine.
He fondles the maids.

l bet he even rapes them.

He's fonder of his watches
than his children.

So we steal his fine collection
and smash everything.

Let's make that fat pig weep.

Hurry up, Biscuit.

October 1 7th, 1 899.

The anarchists have started
burgling bourgeois homes.

Albert Vuilllard, who is still in Paris,
acts as their fence.

He is at his mistress's,
13, Rue Severo, Paris 1 4.

The stolen money is split.

Half is distributed to militants,
the rest kept as booty.

Eugéne Lévéque has left the apartment,

perhaps to meet the Austrians
that Elisée Mayer is waiting for.

lt's like a game.

ln the big city of Paris

ln the big city of Paris

There are fat bourgeois folks

There are fat bourgeois folks

There are paupers
whose stomachs are empty

They have long teeth

Long live the sound,
long live the sound

They have long teeth

Long live the sound of the explosion!

Happy birthday!

- What's this?
- For your birthday.

- My birthday?
- An English tradition.

- Blow. What are you scared of?
- l've never done this before.

Will it blow up in my face?

Make a wish.

We have a present for you.

- Bought or stolen?
- Biscuit bought it.

- Think we're thieves?
- You bet l do.

Thank you.

- Like it?
- Very much.

A speech now.

To my friends.
The most beautiful...

...the most audacious...

...and the most dangerous.

Biscuit, can you do the cake?

- You've eaten all the raspberries.
- lt wasn't me.

- Biscuit, a cake is made to be shared.
- And to be eaten!

Look at each other.

Now Biscuit, look down
and Jean, look up.

Now the opposite.

Smile now.

- l look at you?
- Yes, look at me.

Or rather straight ahead.

One more.

Think that you're writing history.

Serious now.

Keep still.

Keep still.

Put that down!

What's that look for?

Elisée...

l'm going to shoot!

Put it down, sir.

Shoot.

Go on, shoot.

Get up!

l'll blow your brains out.

Your missus can say
the anarchists killed you.

She can tell the police,

''The anarchists
killed my little husband.''

Stop, Elisée.

Stop it!

On your knees.

Let's go.

Don't move.

Judith!

lt's a story a philosopher tells.

ln a Copenhagen theatre,

a fire breaks out
in the wings one day.

Someone comes to alert the audience

and they think he's an actor,
part of the show, and they applaud.

He repeats,
''No, the place is burning, l swear.

''There really is a fire.''

And they laugh even more.

And applaud.

The philosopher says
the world will perish that way,

to the general merriment of people
convinced it's a joke.

l hadn't seen you.

l heard from a friend in America today.

She's pregnant
and she's marrying an American.

lmagine, her child will be born there.

What's she doing over there?

They bought a house and land
for a song.

They want to open a school.

As l speak English,
they're asking me to help.

So, you've made your mind up?
You're doing it?

She seems to have my dream life,

but l don't know.
lt's so far away.

What are you afraid of?

Of getting an arrow through my heart.

This is Clothilde.

Good evening.

l met her last week.

- She found me beautiful.
- No, ugly.

But l made you laugh.

We kissed and l love her.

The poor thing didn't know...
Yes, l love you.

l have to tell you that for her...

...l renounce my Don Juan
or Quasimodo past.

To Clothilde!

To love.

She's prettier than last week's.

Jean!

What are you doing here?

Say who l am and l'll kill you.

Say anything at all

and l'll put you and your family
away for years.

You understand?

Smile if you understand.

Smile.

Say you're ill and that you're leaving.
Never come back here.

Do you love me?

Of course you love me,
otherwise l wouldn't love you.

Hello, ma'am.
My name's Jean.

l'm Roberto's son.

Roberto Albertini.

- How did you get my address?
- From my father's file.

- What file?
- The one at police headquarters.

You're a cop?

Yes.

This is Alexandre, my son.
Say hello, Alexandre.

Why are you here?

l know nothing.
You're his last wife.

l wasn't his wife,
just a close friend.

- Did he ever mention me?
- Now and then.

- ls that all?
- That's all.

He really forged coins?

- The cops say that?
- Yes.

No.

Your father may have been a rebel,
but he was no crook.

- An anarchist?
- No.

He had fine ideas,
but they were just words.

- Do you have any portraits or drawings?
- He had nothing.

Where is he buried?

ln the Bagneux cemetery,
beneath a fine oak.

- Who paid for his grave?
- l did.

- l'll pay you back.
- Keep your money.

- Here.
- No, l won't take it!

What can l do then?
l'd like to help you.

You can look after my boy.

Until l find work.

l can't look after him.

You seem to be a decent man.

A policeman...

At least he'll have an education.

Take him for a few months, a year.
l'll come back for him.

- l can't.
- Why not?

l just can't.

l'm sorry. l have to go.

Then give me that money you offered!

Hello, Jean.

Come.

Jean, meet Hans.

Adrian...
Gentlemen, Jean Albertini.

Hello.

What did he say?

Can we count on him?

What for?

To attack a bank where
your politicians keep their money.

We cut the economic head
before the political one.

- We'll wake Paris at last.
- Do you have weapons?

Well?

Let's just do it.

Of course l'm in.

The Austrians are here.
Eugéne brought them to attack a bank.

Arrest them now to stop them.

l'll arrange a meeting at the apartment
so you can arrest them all.

We won't do that.

- What then?
- You do the job with them.

- We arrest them after.
- Are you crazy?

l'm not going to bloody my hands!

You already have.
Come with me.

Come on.

- Where are we going?
- You'll see.

He's a little too shaken to talk.
You know Albert Vuillard.

See, you have blood on your hands.

You're a real swine.

- l quit, it's over.
- Too late.

lf you quit,
you'll be nothing anymore.

You'll die on Devil's lsland.

Or l release him
and his friends deal with you.

ls that what you want? ls it?

So get to work.

Shall we go, Jean?

Why did you join us?

l don't know.

Maybe to give my life a meaning.

You're never scared?

- Of what?
- Of what we do.

l was more scared before,
doing nothing, than now.

You're for violent action?

At times, arms must be met with harm...
with arms.

That's beautiful but surely
harm should be met with arms?

Jean, you're a winner
and we're slowly losing.

Why are you with losers like us?

l'm nothing.

l'm nothing at all.

But if you lose,
l lose with you.

- What is it?
- We're here for the reception rooms.

- What reception rooms? No one told me.
- Management sent us.

No one told me.

We'll leave then,
but you'll need to explain to them.

Everyone stay calm!
Nobody move!

Stand up!

We're anarchists.
We only want your money.

Where's the safe?

- There.
- Move it!

Fill the bag!

Come on, hurry it up!

Sit down!

Stop it!

Want to die?

That, too. The bonds!

Hans, enough!

Come on, let's go!

Thank you for your generosity!

Have a good day.

Biscuit!

Call the police!

Quick! Hurry!

- They put a hole in me...
- You'll be OK.

Leave me here.
You can't take me back, so leave me.

l'd like to ask you something.

l know we say screw the clergy
but Clothilde believes in marriage.

And l believe in love.

So l'd like you to marry us.
That's what l'd like.

- Anyone know how to do it?
- l know how.

- Biscuit...
- Marcel.

My name's Marcel Deloche.

Marcel Deloche,
do you take Clothilde as your wife

to live with in holy matrimony?

l do.

Clothilde...
Give me some rings.

Lapiower.

Clothilde Lapiower,
do you take Marcel Deloche

to live with him in holy matrimony,

to love him

in sickness as in health,

faithful to him

until death parts you?

l do.

We have to go now.
Come on.

l can't leave him here.

- We have to go.
- No...

We have to go now.

December 1 0th, 1 899.

As the Austrians never returned
with the money,

Elisée, Eugéne and l
have found refuge

in a house
belonging to Marie-Louise Chevandier.

lt's very cold.
We only eat one meal a day.

l use old newspapers to write
as l have no paper left.

l recall an old line by Victor Hugo
from the depths of my memory.

''l have not come for glory,
l have come for danger. ''

l have not come for glory.

l have come for danger.

What are you doing?

A present for Prosecutor Lacambre.

Jean, please, say something.

You can't do that.

They won't listen to sense.

We can't set a bomb
just because we're sad!

- Why not?
- Because that's pride, not politics.

Eugéne...

You knew?

- Answer me.
- l knew.

And you're fine with it?

Biscuit's dead,
we have nothing to lose.

- We could all die.
- l'm not afraid to die.

Of course you are,
you're only 22.

Why would you die now?

l began with them, l'll end with them,
it's that simple.

You've begun nothing with me?

Nothing that would make me flee
like a coward.

We have to take our responsibilities.

lt's different now.

Why?

Because l'm in love with you.
That's why.

Who's in?

Marie-Louise?

lf you do it,
l don't want to see you again.

Judith...

Please don't do it.

And you, Jean?

l'm coming.

lf it goes wrong,
l'm not saying it will,

but if it does for me,
l want you to take care of Judith.

She'll be happy with you.

You shouldn't trust me so much.

Of course l should.
l decided to trust you a long time ago.

Elisée, it's not too late
to call it off.

We dump the suitcase in the river
and it's over.

We're going to do it.
lt'll be beautiful.

Believe me, it'll be beautiful.

- Stay here.
- No, l'm coming.

- She comes.
- She stands guard.

- Don't leave me here.
- He's right.

- l said l...
- Stay here.

All set? Ready to go?

Hold on a second.

- What?
- Here.

You're killing him.
The bomb is the cherry on the cake.

- What are you doing?
- Stand to one side, Eugéne.

Jean...

- What if it's not him?
- Shoot even if it's his kid!

Freeze!

Let go of me!

Don't move!

On the ground!

Drop your gun!

Drop it!

Long live anarchy.

Put me in handcuffs.

Good work, Jean.

Look at me! l'll waste you!

l'll waste you! Look at me!

Take a good look, Jean!
l'll waste you!

Cut it out now!

Your mission began
on September 3rd, 1 899, is that right?

- You began on September 3rd.
- lt says so, doesn't it?

You joined the so-called anarchist group

and took part
in several illegal operations.

- On orders of the Republic.
- That's what we're trying to decide.

Your reports state the stolen money
was for anarchist propaganda.

- Did you ever keep any for yourself?
- Never.

We found several hundred francs
in your hotel room.

You mean my salary?
Ask him. He gave it to me.

What were your relations
with Elisée Mayer?

Would you say you were friends?

No.

But l made him believe that.

And the women?

The women stayed out
of the operations.

Some informers say
they participated in the thefts.

Not as far as l know.

Judith Lorillard appears
in your first reports

but then vanishes from them.

She was not an interesting element.

We suspect you of lying several times
to protect her.

Having vanished,
she's a threat to national security.

She's not a threat.

Are you an anarchist, Mr Albertini?

Answer me.

- Are you an anarchist, Jean?
- No.

Jean...

l've been on the ship three days now,

sitting down here in the hold,
with the world's misery before me,

but l'm thinking of you.

l'll set foot in America
without any illusions.

My only gleam of light in this darkness
is that Elisée never knew,

or never wanted to know.

Because he loved you.

Just as l loved you.

You think you saved my life,
but you'll suffer.

For the rest of your life.
And l'm delighted.

Truly, l'm delighted.

Long live the social revolution.

Long live anarchy.