Original subtitles

Spring 1945

A small town in France, partly destroyed by wartime bombing.

"De Galle Calls for a Period of Recovery"

Marie-Anne.

Where were you today?

At Nadia's. I'd lent her a book...

Liar!

You were seen in the woods with Montglat's son!

So what?

He's rich. His father made a fortune during the occupation.

The boy joined the Resistance at the last moment.

Now he's a businessman, like his father.

That's why she likes him.

Am I right?

It's sad but it's true.

The only thing that counts in life is money.

Your mother agrees.

- If you marry him, she'll forgive you. - Marriage? He's just playing around!

A smart girl can gain a lot by being a rich man's mistress.

Even if she's pregnant?

That should be avoided. Kids are expensive, and cause trouble.

You have time...

You want to go to Paris, be an actress... Do it.

You dropped out of school, but you're pretty.

Anyway, actors don't need a diploma.

Your mother is right. Stay out of the woods.

Do it in a room.

Come on.

Daddy...

She's out. She's out of the tub!

- Back you go. - I don't want to.

Wash up now.

Want a little more?

Come on. Just a little.

Look at that!

Unbelievable! It's a pigsty!

When will you move out?

I'm fed up! This can't go on!

I'm fed up too!

- Look! - At what?

- You're filthy! - I'm cleaner than you!

- The bathroom! - What?

Can't you flush?

My family's assess are as clean as yours.

- And that pot? - What pot?

You could at least try to clean it.

This is my house as much as yours now.

- More, even. I was bombed out. - Calm...

Who are you to give me lessons in manners?

Just because you're an engineer!

Engineer or not, my husband could get you fired.

- It'll all be done. Perfectly. - Not again!

- You don't scare me. - Stop it.

- He'll get you fired. - Take her...

- I'm through! - See to the kids.

- Sorry. - It's not easy to live in a crowd.

They've promised to relocate me soon.

Laughing at me?

No, it's me. Sorry.

It's great.

- Great. - Here, I'll give you more.

Not the soup. I was thinking about my essay. It's great.

- Essay on what? - Resistance in Corneille's plays.

So tell us.

I compare Camille to Petain,

you Horace to De Gaulle,

and the best one...

Guess who for old Horace?

Marcel Cachin, the Communist. He'll love it!

Are you sure?

You're kissing up to your French teacher...

a Communist?

It's no secret. What do you have against the Communists...

you dropout?

Communists! They're shits!

Enough!

Come in.

- Good evening. - Good evening.

Don't let me disturb you.

- Enjoy your dinner. - Thank you.

If it's about Communists, speak softly.

Yes.

I was in the fields all day.

I graded papers while lying in the grass.

It was a gorgeous day. I was so happy.

I had a lousy day.

At the meeting... of the Public Works Committee...

Leroi was opposed, so everybody else was, too.

It's because of his brothers. One died in a concentration camp.

The other writes articles.

So he is the Resistance.

They must have skeletons in their closets.

They have nothing to hide.

They were Petain's men.

Not only that.

They felt collaboration was the lesser of two evils. Some people still think so.

I still believe in what I believed during the occupation. I'm not ashamed.

Yet, even I felt uneasy with this Leroi.

Maybe you're a bit of a hypocrite.

Hypocrite? Me, a hypocrite?

Sure. Then all of France is hypocritical.

Half of them, like me, don't dare say what they think.

The other half pretend they never thought.

Out of millions, they pick out a few. It's one big lie.

They pretend everyone was in the Resistance.

Plenty of people changed sides right after the liberation. That's the truth!

Sometimes killing becomes a duty.

And sometimes it's necessary to be a hypocrite.

Life is perfect.

Man has always had a great deal of potential.

You're very mysterious.

Some people are indifferent to the best and the worst.

But you look upon everything with love.

That must be great.

It's a blessing.

I envy you.

- You must give me your recipe. - I'll see what I can do.

- Hands up, or you're dead. - What?

Gimme that lamp. You, don't move!

Hey, boys, we got him!

- That's not him. He's from the factory. - Yeah, it's Archambaud.

What's he doing here?

I'm taking my evening stroll. Is that against the law?

We're looking for someone.

Are you arresting me or can I go?

He takes a walk here every night. Let him go.

Go home. Sorry, Sir.

Maxime Loin!

Mr. Archambaud.

Help me.

Me?

My advice is, give yourself up.

During the occupation,

if I'd been drowning, you'd have pulled me out.

I can't. Gaigneux and his family live with me. It's too dangerous.

Come on.

Take off your shoes.

Wait here. If Gaigneux sees us, we're both dead.

Everything OK?

- Well, good night. - Thank you.

- Good night. - Good night.

Who knows what he did during the occupation.

I know, but we're Christians. We must forgive.

What about the kids if we're caught?

And how long will he stay here?

What are you doing here?

You want to get out?

Come in.

- Morning. - Good morning.

What a beautiful day. Like yesterday.

I have a favour to ask.

You name it.

You know Maxime Loin?

The militiaman. He published poetry

and ran a newspaper during the occupation.

Correct.

He's wanted. He'll be tried, and most certainly executed...

He hid in a cellar since the war ended.

Until yesterday, when someone must have denounced him.

They came for him, but he managed to escape.

He was waiting for me in the hallway when I got home last night.

And?

I felt sorry for him. He's staying in the kids' room.

In Pierre's bed.

I've no idea how long he'll stay, but with that Gaigneux

one mistake, and we're done.

He'll need a safe place.

Meanwhile, if there's anything I can do...

If we have people in the house or even the maid...

He can come here anytime,

even when I'm out.

- Thanks, Watrin. - Relax. It'll work out.

Think of how much you will enjoy

being a hypocrite.

Good morning, children.

- Good morning, Watrin. - How are you, Jourdan?

Fine.

- Hi, everyone. - Mr. Watrin.

Button it, damn collaborators!

Bastard!

Come on, settle down.

- You'll see! - Enough...

Where is Maxime Loin?

You gladly gave the Krauts haircuts and shined their shoes.

- Enough. - Skirt-chaser...Low-life...

- You'll see, we'll make you talk. - Enough, Rochard!

Don't worry. He's only joking.

He doesn't mean any of it.

You keep out of this, big-mouth!

What?

You call him a big-mouth? He's a teacher!

Pay up and get the hell out!

- Calm down, Leopold. - Mr. Watrin deserves some respect.

And you gang up on poor Alfred.

You touch him, and I'll come after you!

Get that into your head. Pay up and get out, Rochard!

Out!

We'll see.

Off these premises! Drunkard!

Commie!

Son-of-a-bitch!

Rochard has a thing for Madame Mangenot.

But he's not her type.

She likes Alfred. He has fingers of velvet.

Come on in, kids. I'll be right with you.

What is it this morning?

- "Andromache". - "Andromache"!

I love Racine. Such beautiful poetry.

If the Yanks hadn't bombed the school, I'd be ignorant!

War sometimes has advantages.

Hurry up, you!

OK, everybody out. You'll continue tonight.

School-time.

CLOSED SCHOOL IN SESSION

Quiet. Pay attention now. Let's start with...

Miss Brasset.

OK... Listen, now.

"You flee?"

"Aren't you glad to see..."

"Hector's widow at your knees?"

"I saw a cruel hand, alas..."

"Crush the only heart I could hope..."

"I could hope to look upon."

OK, pretty good. Sit down.

Mister... Gibbe...

Who's talking there?

- "My lord, reject..." - What?

No. Without looking at the text, Mister Gibbe.

"My Lord, reflect. What will Greece..."

Desserauno... Stop giggling please. You're next!

"You flee?"

"Aren't you glad to see..."

Dummy!

"Aren't you..."

"glad to see..."

"I saw a cruel hand..."

"Alas..."

"Crush the only heart..."

- "I could hope..." - Leopold, please!

I can hear you from here.

"My Lord..."

"My Lord..."

"What will Greece say of you?"

"From so great a heart must weakness flow?"

"Such a noble..."

"A generous design..."

"Pass for the impulse of a doting heart?"

Leave me alone.

- What? - Stop it!

The cops! They want to search the place.

For Maxime Loin!

- What is this? - Where's Maxime Loin?

- Not here. - Not here?

Would a resister like me hide a collaborator?

You, a resister? That's a new one!

I don't like to brag,

but I had a Jew working here during the war.

He kept breaking all the glasses.

I was gonna fire him, but Jews were sacred then!

Like I need a waiter in this place.

This place did pretty well.

- Lots of Krauts. - I pissed in their wine.

And the Jew wasn't so Jewish. He was your nephew.

Now it's a crime to have a Jewish nephew?

You cops aren't very nice to me.

One commie says boo, and you come after me.

You're scared of him. That's why.

When he got himself a house by throwing someone out, nobody stopped him.

Nobody complained. What could we do?

Ah, come on! Damn commies!

All this fuss about Hector's widow! I'd be ashamed.

I get to Pyrrhus' palace...

I see Andromache crying, I say:

Get the kid, pack your bag. Let's get out while we can.

Get--the--kid-- pack--your--bag.

Let's--get--out-- while--we--can.

Rochard.

- Come here. - What?

We need to talk.

Hurry up!

- Your garden? - Yes.

Nice vegetables. Sit down.

Hands on the table!

Talk!

What?

Nothing to say? Bastard!

You start talking or

I'll make you swallow the whole barrel.

OK! I told the cops Maxime Loin was at the cafe.

- Why? - I thought he was.

Bastard! What else?

I said I saw a man in the kitchen who looked like him.

- Why? - I made a mistake.

Asshole!

I... I lied. I saw no one.

Stop! Stop!

Asshole!

Tell them you lied, that you saw no one.

Not Maxime Loin, or anyone else!

- No. - What?

Calm down!

What's going on?

This is personal, not police business.

Mr. Rochard made a mistake.

- That's no crime. - It's no crime?

Then how about this?

He tried using it on me.

This doesn't concern me.

It's a private matter.

He's out of the Party. They pulled his card.

- You're sure? - Yes!

When he blinded Laignel they laughed.

When he called the commies cruel, they laughed less.

When he kicked out the Jaclins...

I won't intervene in your business.

But why the hell are you carrying a gun?

You have a permit? Of course not.

Why bother? Who cares about the police?

Confiscated.

Rochard, you're a pain in the ass!

We've had too many complaints. Better watch your step!

You hear that? Come on!

OK. My round.

Listen to this.

Rochard, that guy from the railroad...

He tells the cops that Maxime Loin is here.

That's a serious accusation.

You Party guys should know when one of your members

accuses an innocent man of collaborating.

It reflects on you.

You got some mess there.

Any guy with a CP card can denounce you

kick you out, threaten you...

Anything goes!

Come on! Come on!

Damn commies!

Get out while we can...

Get the kid, pack your bag.

Let's get out while we can...

Are you nuts?

Nuts? No... I'm a poet.

That's right. A poet.

Get the kids, pack...

In case you didn't know, that's called "verse"!

And when I find the second, I'll have two.

Then thirty! And fifty!

Think of it...

We get into beer in '33...

Go to war in '39...

and get bombed in '44.

Just so that I could become a poet!

- Wonderful! - You know...

If someone had told me that twenty years ago, when we were on the road...

Twenty years isn't that long...

And now, look!

I never thought I'd be a poet!

And you never thought

you'd be old and ugly.

When I see you all shriveled up, I remember us when we worked the fairs.

You in your pink bathing suit

up on that platform.

And now, Ladies and Gentlemen,

the Bordeaux Bomber!

Champion of the Southwest!

Just look at that chest!

52 inches around!

And in this corner,

Ali Ben Youssouf straight from North Africa!

The only man who ever dared to wrestle a gorilla!

And now, ladies and gentlemen,

the famous... Madame Andrea...

Who will astound you with her feats

of Jiujitsu!

Step inside. The show is about to begin.

You were there...

So pretty, so sexy...

Everyone was watching your thighs, your chest

instead of mine.

Twenty years later...

No more thighs...

No more tits...

No more "Bordeaux Bomber".

And Madame Andrea?

A little old lady.

An old bag of bones.

Don't cry. That's life.

- If you were like Andromache... - Who?

Andromache. A person.

If I'd been killed in the war, lost the cafe

and you'd been sold into slavery to a foreigner, then you could cry!

But I'm alive!

Don't cry, my little stringbean.

I wonder what Racine drank while he worked.

Bedtime, my bramble.

You think I'm a traitor.

But a French Communist is loyal only to Russia.

Between '40 and '44 any anti-Communist was loyal only to Germany.

And if Germany had won the war,

Marxism would be dead and buried. It's a shame.

France will soon be done for.

Hitler was her last chance.

- Some chance. - Who knows?

What? The other day with Jourdan, you were a Communist!

No more a Communist than a Nazi.

Yes, I forgot about your benevolent indifference.

You promised me your recipe.

It's not an easy recipe to follow.

Maybe...

Look...

I used to live over there, third floor.

The Allies had already landed.

The war was almost over. My son had been a POW in Germany.

One lovely August night

my wife was with her lover.

I didn't mind.

I was in bed, reading a series in a magazine

about astronomy.

I was up to Uranus...

when the first bombing sweep hit.

The walls shake, the tiles fall, the light goes out.

Then a bigger explosion, nearby, shakes the house.

The bedroom walls come crashing down...

I stayed in my bed,

gripping the edges of the mattress.

Then... The bombing stops, moves away in the night.

I hear the screams of the wounded.

The sky is directly above me.

A beautiful, dark sky filled with stars.

Then I fell asleep, or I fainted.

In the morning, some people saw me in my bed

perched on an untouched beam.

I was there. It wasn't easy to rescue you.

My wife died in the arms of her lover.

Since then...

Every night...

at 11:15,

the time the bombing started,

I'm struck by a fit of cosmic anguish.

I'm gripped by what I had read:

"Poor planet, dark, cold, hurled into infinity..."

I feel,

weighing on me the real presence of Uranus.

The dark and icy star weighs on each part of my being.

That crushing mass of darkness,

of hopelessness, of desolation and abandonment.

Like a bad dream,

and yet, how very real.

And how faithful and punctual.

Every night the battle starts at 11:15.

Even if I'm asleep.

All night long,

until I wake up,

until the morning liberates me.

When I open my eyes,

I've made it back to Earth!

To this planet full of flowers,

rivers

and people.

How beautiful it is our Earth.

How beautiful.

With its changing skies,

blue waters, continents,

islands and hills.

The life that trembles in it's womb

and rises up toward the light.

You're smiling, Archambaud.

But I,

when I come out of my dream,

I feel like the world's first man in the first garden.

My heart swells with awe, joy and gratitude.

I think of forests, wild animals, of flies, elephants...

I love elephants!

And of men.

There's nothing more wonderful, more gentle than men.

Their wars, their concentration camps, their justice...

For me, these are just pranks. Sound and fury.

They have a song for their pain,

for their selfishness, and their hypocrisy.

Men's selfishness is as lovable as that of a butterfly or a squirrel.

Nothing in a man is evil.

Hello, Mr. Jourdan.

Let's go, Lydie!

- Is Mr. Watrin in? - He's out.

Never mind. I was just passing by.

If he gets in, I'm at Gaigneux's.

Sorry to disturb you.

- Gaigneux! - Yes.

- Jourdan here. - Come in.

My wife's working, it's raining, so the kids can't play outdoors.

- What's funny? - It's silly... keep it to yourself.

Watrin, with his head in the clouds, is secretly screwing the Archambaud girl.

I find that amusing.

- That can't be. - But it's true.

Before coming in here, I went to see Watrin.

The Archambaud girl says he's not there. But I had just seen him near the piano.

She was as red as a beetroot.

- So? - Nothing.

- No way! - Why not?

She's 18 and he's 35 years older? So what?

Don't get sentimental, Gaigneux.

Watrin is no prince, but he has certain advantages. One, proximity.

Two, he's convenient. No need to hassle.

No having to go to a strange house.

- Three... - Oh, that's enough!

- What's wrong? - Nothing.

I don't care about the Archambauds. I'm waiting to be re-located.

It's Rochard that bothers me.

Leopold says Rochard denounced him. Makes us look like idiots.

Let's kick him out.

He went too far. You agree?

Well, maybe.

He can't be trusted. Am I right?

I hardly know him.

He's a fuck-up!

"Fuck-up"? He's a little extreme, maybe...

- We can understand that. - What?

His violence, his "fucking up".

He has awakened to his condition of being exploited.

He has suffered, he has bled.

A humiliated worker who struggles against his oppressors.

- Who gets even for his hardships. - He never suffered.

He's a farmer's son. He works for the railroad.

His family fed him during the war.

- I'm hungry, Dad! - You're hungry.

- Still, he's a worker! - Right.

Leopold was denounced by a Party member.

Everyone knows.

Leopold wasn't arrested. So, they laugh at us.

The Socialists will eat it up!

A few more such pranks, and the Party's sunk!

Go and play.

We'll lose votes.

That's bad. I agree.

But Rochard can be relied on

when the time is ripe to take power by force.

Right now we need votes. With Rochard, we'll lose hundreds.

If the Party has some power now over the police and the judges.

Who deserves credit for that?

Have you had the guts to denounce anyone?

No answer?

How many guys have you killed?

None.

Rochard denounced plenty of collaborators.

He was part of a firing squad. That bothers you.

Blood scares you.

You want to change the world through votes.

Watch out. Rochard is in tune with the revolution.

Jourdan, you're from a bourgeois family. Not rich, but bourgeois.

Unfortunately you love nothing, not women, not friendship - nothing.

You haven't lived life. You've only read about it.

You cling to Communism because you're empty.

You talk revolution without knowing hunger.

You're not one of us.

And you never will be.

I understand your hostility.

You think Communism is good for the town.

You vote against one candidate or another.

I see the broader, more general interests of the Party.

- Your petty concerns... - Shut up!

This will get us nowhere.

He was useful during the war.

Now he just inspires fear when we need to reassure people.

Keeping Rochard will show that the Party stands by its own.

Even if they make mistakes.

But he denounced an innocent man!

Who says Leopold is innocent?

What does that mean?

Nothing. We'll discuss it at tonight's meeting.

See you tonight.

I'm thirsty!

Let it run. It's hot.

Let me go!

It's cool now.

They're going door to door

looking for the guy who got away...

Don't worry. I'll leave tonight.

No, you won't!

Thanks.

Watrin, consider my situation with Maxime Loin.

Aside from the risks involved,

I'm hiding a man whose conduct and whose ideas I don't condone.

I'm helping a traitor!

If you had let him get shot,

you'd have a guilty conscience.

But now, I'd say you're stuck.

It's too late to kick him out.

But I can't keep him here forever.

Find him a safe place where he can live under an assumed name.

Got one!

I worry about my son.

Pierre can't stand him, and they share a bed.

- I can't have him sleep with Marie-Anne. - Why not with you?

- And my wife? - You sleep in the middle.

Look at that fat little mummy.

She knows we wouldn't hurt her.

Any news from Maxime Loin?

Maybe we'll figure out where he is.

We'll discuss it tonight.

I smell a rat.

Come here.

- So? - So what?

What did Jourdan tell you?

- Last night's meeting... - And?

I've still got my card, thanks to him.

Did he mention me?

Well... Leopold, you'd better watch out.

He said, "We haven't forgotten about Leopold."

You see what you got me into?

If they lock me up, when I get out

it's the whole barrel!

If they come after me, you warn me.

- How much? - 87,000.

Let me buy more paintings, to get rid of cash fast.

Paintings!

Buy! Buy anything at all.

They'll change the currency, I'm sure. I'll be ruined.

All my wartime work... for nothing.

Dad, trust me for once.

I've been offered eight Picassos.

You call that a painting?

Am I disturbing you?

- What's happened? - Trouble.

Rochard turned me in. He said I was hiding Maxime Loin.

They'll arrest me!

You think I can intervene? I can't.

No. I'm awfully sorry.

- I know you can help. - What do you think, Leopold?

You think I'm God?

It's hard enough to help myself.

And it's not over yet.

It wouldn't be good for you if I got arrested.

If they torture me, I might crack.

I'm a real sissy.

Don't wait for that!

Tell everything that you know.

It's always best to be honest.

You're wrong to joke about it.

Should I tell about Major Eckman?

They think you made 30 or 40 million,

but when they realise it was more like 800 million,

I won't envy you!

Then all you high-placed friends won't help you.

So long.

Don't leave like that, old buddy.

Don't be angry.

I'm eager to help you. When will they arrest you?

I don't know. Any minute.

Today I can't. Tomorrow's Sunday.

Let them arrest you and next week I'll...

No, no... You have to do something right now!

Do I own the cops, the Prosecutors, the Communists?

Use your money!

I'm just a wine merchant,

I'm not... Peru.

I'm not really rich.

Stop pretending. What about all your other deals?

Cement, sausages, electric wire, even toothbrushes...

And when the Major went to Russia, you continued with his replacement.

7 or 8 hundred million. If not a billion!

Sure. Why not two?

I helped you make the money. Are you forgetting that?

I earned chicken-feed. Practically nothing.

I didn't work with the Major.

A little booze, black market, that's all I wanted.

But you were big-time.

Nothing interests me anymore, Leopold.

I see everything from behind my pile, like I'm in a fog.

Me, I'm nothing. A dot in the midst of these millions.

One more zero! Zero times zero equals zero!

I wish I was a laborer.

Work in the morning, home at night.

And no more talk of business.

- Longumier is here. - Oh, yes. I'll be right back.

Yes, I collaborated,

because I was lonely.

Make yourself at home. I just washed the floor.

I'm lucky if she lets me stay in my own apartment!

Mr. Maxime, you look so sad.

I'm not happy.

What's wrong?

You've been so nice to me. Everyone has.

But this has to end.

I've put you in danger.

I can't escape my fate.

I'll surrender.

Really Maxime. Be sensible.

I can see you're depressed. These past 6 months were awful.

But don't give up.

Sometimes, I can't stand it.

I feel so alone.

You need friends.

I'm here.

I'll take care of you

help you forget your worries.

I was thinking about France.

Poor thing!

When you're condemned to death, judged by a whole nation,

then you're all alone.

Meanwhile, penniless and on the run,

taken in out of pity, and, I guess, ridiculed,

I love a 17-year-old girl.

I'll be alone at my execution.

The soldiers and the blond girl won't know I loved them.

Why me?

Because you were in the Resistance.

Don't exaggerate.

- Why should I help a collaborator? - Stop!

What do you care?

Who is he?

What can I do?

Your father has friends in Paris.

Why help a traitor?

He's like anyone else. He just made a mistake.

Is it Maxime Loin?

Where is he?

I'll see.

Thanks!

- You're scared? - No, just surprised.

Say something!

What should I think?

I don't understand.

I have nothing to say. Excuse me.

Well?

I saw Ledieu.

I had him talking a little.

It's on for today.

- What time? - I don't know but...

- You fuck! - I'll try to find out.

Get the fuck out of here. Enough! Come here.

When I'm inside, if you know anything,

you come and tell it to my wife, OK?

I promise.

If I'm not back by Saturday,

take a day off and tend to the cafe.

You'll eat, and you'll have some pocket money.

Get the fuck out of here!

- Look, relax. Trust me. - Get the fuck out!

Cut the bullshit!

Gas from the Yanks. You want in?

I don't get involved with that stuff anymore. Fuck!

Cushy.

- I can't anymore. - Too bad.

You're under arrest.

Regular army. That's right.

Captain Maire, Jospeh.

Decorated, Legion of Honour. 7 citations!

Stripe at Verdun, under Petain.

De Gaulle?

Who's he?

35 years of service, wounded 3 times.

A marshal is higher than a general.

I was against the Russkies.

After the war,

I'm denounced, arrested.

Me! Captain Maire. 35 years of service. 7 citations!

I'm a war veteran!

That's how the Commies treat those who served in France well.

I'm thirsty!

I'm thirsty!

Visitor. Let's go.

- Button your shirt. - NO!

How about 2 bottles a day?

- Impossible! - 50 francs.

- It's hard! - 100 francs.

I'll try.

- So? - Hi, Leopold. They've got nothing.

Three anonymous letters say you're hiding Maxime Loin.

No evidence.

It's all bureaucratic paperwork.

The Grand Jury stuff is nonsense!

But that doesn't get you out.

I went to see the Communists.

They're embarrassed.

The Socialists annoy me.

They're too timid in protesting your arrest.

- Monglat? - Your wife saw him.

He's going to Paris to see what he can do... Don't count on him.

That pig? But he's afraid of me.

I know about his racket.

- Who doesn't? - I know more.

You'll do less than one month.

Maybe less. But try to be patient.

I'm afraid of what I might do.

What? Do what?

A guy like you doesn't give in to despair.

I'm bored.

Of course. That's normal.

You don't know!

You think I'm a drunk.

I hardly drink.

Only about 10 quarts a day.

In over 20 years I wasn't drunk once.

That's what makes me sick in here!

I'm going nuts. Prison is hell.

At home I'm always busy.

I see to my barrels, my cases and bottles...

I chop wood for my wife. I keep busy.

I gotta keep moving. I take a drink... yeah, I drink.

My customers are nice.

They're good guys.

And I like my kids, too.

- Your kids? - Mr. Watrin's students.

The Giraud girl

and Gibbe, and Vermorel...

Oh, and Andromache.

"Do you flee, Madame..."

"Aren't you glad to see"

"Hector's widow at your knees?"

You really like that?

Poetry is my business.

Given me some verses and a bottle of wine,

I'll stay in jail forever.

I hate to say it, but...

I have to admit...

It's mainly the wine.

Leopold did nothing.

Nothing that warrants jail.

I'm powerless.

You can't just allow

to protect your Party member pal's fallibility

an innocent man to remain in jail.

Jourdan!

Come on, be nice.

Think of that big bear in that little cage.

How he must suffer.

I'm not the Court Prosecutor.

He's accused of harbouring the notorious traitor Maxime Loin.

- That's not true! - We'll see in court.

I presume he's guilty.

Rochard says he saw Maxime Loin at the cafe.

Rochard is a good Communist who's proved himself worthy.

I have no reason to doubt him.

What if Loin was there?

Is it a crime not to turn him in?

That's a little too much!

What do I care?

We're talking about aiding and abetting

a fascist, a sell-out!

Do you know Maxime Loin?

No. I don't need to know him to know

that he wrote with our blood.

I know all about those fascist bourgeois intellectuals!

They hate the workers.

You've done a lot of reading.

Don't get carried away by anger and hatred.

You don't seem very good at life.

You don't need firing squads and jails

to experience reality.

Hatred and contempt are realities.

You have to act to change the world!

Thanks, boss.

Two beers.

There you go.

Say the word. I'll kick him out.

No. Find Jourdan. He'll do it.

We'll talk at my house.

See you.

- How much? - No, that's OK.

It's on me.

That's enough.

You're cold?

Come in!

- What's up? - Let's talk.

Sit down.

You know about Rochard?

He's running Leopold's place.

He's waiting on customers, pocketing tips. Makes us look stupid.

We get Leopold arrested, he steals his wife.

You'll agree, he has to go. Right?

Out of the Party. Out of the cafe.

Kick his ass out. You understand?

So we came to you. You take care of him.

Tonight. When he closes the iron gate.

When his back is turned.

Want a drink?

- Want a drink? - Let's talk!

- What? - I'll tell you.

What's the matter? You seem strange.

- What is this? - What do you mean?

I'm not enjoying this.

It might look funny,

but comrade...

I did Leopold wrong. And, after all, he's my friend.

I'm just filling in here.

You're compromising the Party! That's wrong!

Now get the hell out, fast!

- Hey, wait! - Stop.

- Take this! - Hands off! Stop.

Murderer!

Go get some air.

Murderer!

"Dear Mum,"

"in this morning's letter"

"I told you about Rochard."

"And about how it disgusted me to have to do this."

"Well, now the job is done."

"And I'm confused."

"When I saw Rochard, I felt paralysed."

"There he was, facing me in the flesh,"

"his sleeves rolled up, hair on his arms."

"He was not 'political'. He was a man."

Bastards! Low-lifes! Drunks!

You won't get to me.

I'll kill you first!

To hell with De Gaulle! And Thorez! And Monglat!

I'll get you all!

I'll piss on you, me and Petain,

and Laval, and Andromache!

Andromache couldn't give two shits for you!

You and the Brits and the Yanks!

And Hermione, Pyrrhus, and Orestes.

And Mr. Watrin, and Racine, and Corneille, La Fontaine,

and Madame de Sevigne, and Moliere!

We all shit on you!

They know you're all a bunch of assholes,

fuckheads, bastards!

Rotten scum!

Calm down, you're free.

Andrea.

Andrea!

Let's go. Time for bed. I'm sleepy.

Bye, gramps!

That's all right!

I got it. I'll close up.

Hurry up! Don't be late.

The cops will soon be on our ass.

Andromache!

My heavens, could it be true?

Finally a real man so fine!

Come in!

I'm so relieved. You're free!

Have a seat.

Get a glass.

Mr. Megrin...

Mr. Megrin,

I have verses pouring out of me! I just write them down.

I already have two. And, get this, a third is coming!

I can't explain it but it's a fact. Let me tell you.

In jail, I was practically forced to think.

Now I got poetry in my gut.

I eat and sleep poetry!

In October, I'll surprise Mr. Watrin with 700 or 800 lines!

Maybe he'll teach them to the class.

"Get the kid..."

"Get out while we can..."

"A real man so fine!"

"A real man so fine!"

"Do you want rum or wine?"

It's pouring right out of me!

Really great! I'd like to copy down your poems!

Here's my henchman!

Did he behave?

- Night! - Goodbye Mr. Megrin.

Help! Help me!

Are you all right?

Will you be OK?

Shithead! Bastard!

You're the one?

A teacher?

Why did you do it?

Why?

I thought you were someone else.

He thought it was me, the bastard!

Should I kill him?

- Calm down, Leopold. - Calm down?

They don't leave me alone.

First jail, then they attack my lawyer. Tomorrow they'll burn me out.

Or worse, kill me! I have a right to exist!

Communists don't scare me. No one does!

I'll give them a piece of my mind!

Bastard!

Fellow citizens, listen up.

I'm Leopold Lajeunesse,

also known as Leopold De Cambrai!

Champion of Europe and the Balkans.

Fearless and above reproach!

Unjustly imprisoned

by Communists.

- By bandits! - Shut up!

Stuff it!

Bandits, thugs, paid off by Moscow,

to try and wipe out

all intelligence and poetry!

Shut up!

But intelligence survives

and pisses all over their asses.

Scoundrels!

And poetry will also rise up

to bother the shit out of them

and it sounds the battle-cry:

"Down with De Gaulle, Thorez and the country!"

Tell 'em, Leopold.

Down with Monglat!

Monglat, the collaborator

who made millions with the Krauts!

I know exactly how much.

I'm gonna tell all!

You said too much last night.

- What did I say? - Something for everyone.

The Resistance, the army, the cops, the Communists.

The Party? What'd I say?

You called them murderers, sissies...

- Did I name anyone? - Are you kidding?

Gaigneux, Jourdan, Fourgere, Ledieu...

You left out nobody!

And especially, Monglat!

What did I say about him?

About the millions he made with the Krauts.

- Shit. - I'm afraid.

Go hide somewhere, before they come back.

Put a poet back in prison with murderers? No way!

I've suffered enough. Let them come.

What did they drink in the camps?

Five years!

Dying of thirst, I couldn't stand that.

Son... be brave!

Your mother died in the bombing.

I mustn't laugh.

Last time I wore this

was for Petain's visit, remember?

See you at the station.

Are you sure you won't come?

I have a headache, and I'm fixing lunch.

Could you help me? I can't tie it.

You could have wore a black tie.

You're right.

I never mourned for my wife.

Her death was a source of joy for me.

But he's your son. He loved his mother.

- How will you tell him? - I don't know.

I'll find the proper tone and voice.

Ready?

Ready.

Marie-Anne.

Let's get married.

I've got savings. I'll open a gallery.

I start acting school in October in Paris.

But I'm serious.

I'm serious, too.

- You spoke to your Dad? - No.

He's acting crazy today.

I can't stand him or his money.

What's wrong?

I won't marry you.

What'll he think of me? I love the rain as much as the sun.

All I see in life is a constant flow of joy.

Will he think I'm a selfish monster?

Or senile, or indifferent?

In any case, he'll think I'm a stranger.

Charles!

Charles! My son!

Come on, come on.

Meet Fernand Gallien. We met at the camp.

And Mum?

Dead.

During a bombing. She was staying with friends.

And our house was destroyed.

Come on, son.

My dear children.

After five years

of separation from your families,

five years of moral and physical suffering,

you're finally on native soil.

It's with great pride and joy...

I'll go.

...we welcome our boys home.

Like you, we've suffered...

- Gallien? - Yeah.

A collaborator!

Stop.

Leave it. He collaborated at the camp.

Once again you'll be free men...

Traitor! Collaborator!

See that?

Stop!

Get away!

Give me a hand.

You're an adult now!

Old enough to know

that any woman can be tempted.

By taking that man into our home, your dad forced an intimacy on us

without realising the danger.

I'm glad it was me and not you.

OK, enough said! Stop crying, and bring the chicken.

Coming!

- A shameful scene! - They sure went at it.

I was for De Gaulle.

I often argued with Gallien.

We didn't agree, but he's my pal.

They fixed your pal good.

Let's drink to your homecoming.

- To your health. - And to yours.

Thank you.

To your homecoming.

I always bushed my teeth with white wine.

That's all I drink, since the age of nine.

Hi, boss!

Working already?

Listen...

Finally a real man so fine.

Do you want rum or wine?

White wine.

Wine was what Hector took with him to war.

Good choice!

I've always brushed my teeth with white wine.

That's all I drink since the age of nine.

Great, right?

- The cops. - Cops? Really? The cops?

Fucking shit!

Since when is poetry under police jurisdiction?

Stuff your official hats and tough-ass belts!

- Watch it, I got a warrant. - A warrant?

A warrant! I have poetry to write!

You take me for Leopold the bistro owner.

No, not anymore.

No, I am Leopold the poet.

I don't care what you are.

- You're under arrest. - Quiet!

No respect for poetry? Get out of my place!

- Wipe your ass with your warrants! - Get the cuffs.

Oh yeah? Let me give you a hand!

Andromache!

My love!

My love...

What is it?

What's wrong?

Write down what I tell you.

Hurry up.

Date it.

Dear son,

life is unbearable.

Are you crazy?

Life is unbearable.

I must end it all.

Me? Kill myself?

- Write, or go to jail. - What?

You used me in your filthy work,

made me join the Resistance as a cover

for all your dirty deals.

Now it's over.

You'll pay for Leopold's murder.

- It was an accident. - Oh, sure!

You'll pay, murderer!

Shut up, idiot!

Or I'll have you arrested!

You think you're somebody?

If it weren't for my money,

you'd be driving a cab right now.

I'm the billionaire!

One phone call, and you're in jail.

You saw what Leopold got.

You shithead!

Yeah, but a rich shithead.

Under a pile of money.

You never even took the time to get to know me.

Not as I was before the war.

The big happy Daddy

who met his son at the whorehouse at 2 AM.

I have no more friends.

My only fun

is seeing others suffer.

For kicks, I read the list of people executed,

the trial summaries and who denounced whom.

That I enjoy.

The corrupt judges and journalists,

ex-Resistance members who sell out their pals

for their own advancement or for a star on the lapel.

That I enjoy.

Me, the big bad wolf.

People look up to me.

The Chief of Police.

The smiling Ministers.

And you judge me? You preach to me?

Are you playing schoolgirl?

I'll have your friend, the collaborator, shot!

- You can't! - And why not?

If I had a son I could be proud of

I wouldn't have done what I did during the war.

You're exactly like me.

I look at you

and I'm disgusted.

Get the hell out of here!

Or I'll have you locked up!

Asshole!

Someone is behind it.

- But who? - The Socialists?

No. People will think it's us.

If we had thrown Rochard out, it would be different.

An innocent man would still be alive.

There's one solution.

We arrest Rochard and some others

for plotting a fascist coup with Leopold.

We'll find evidence later.

They already say we stink. And it's often true.

Class struggle is one thing. Murder's something else.

The Party needs honest members like us.

We can't perjure ourselves

and throw innocent men in jail.

Workers won't believe in us.

Isn't that right.

A member's conscience can't get in the way.

Do capitalists have consciences?

Maybe. But that's not my way.

Monglat's son.

Monglat.

- Let's go! I'm late. - Ready!

Your dinner. Just heat it up.

- What about you? - I'll manage.

- Have fun. - You too.

See you tonight.

I'll be back soon. Be good.

Been here long?

15 minutes.

You're sure?

You're an informer. Do your job.

I will.

How's your dad?

Fine, thanks. He's retired. And yours?

He's dead.

Then he won't blush.

Blush?

You're the one who's gone red. I'm proud of my ideas.

Too bad.

Are yours better?

Horror is horror.

If, during the war, you had

a chance to denounce me, would you have done it?

Yes.

That makes it easier.

You won't die in bed.

Ready?

You're turning him in?

- You can't do that! - Keep out of this, you.

Let's go.

I'm glad it's in ruins.

Life in there was depressing, remember?

I lied. I wouldn't have turned you in during the war.

I don't believe you.

If I had turned him in, Leopold would still be alive.

Forget about "would have" and "should have".

- You tried saving a man's life! - But Leopold's dead anyway.

I feel dirty deep down in my gut.

I've been a part of so much slime and crime.

By staying silent. And so have I.

We're hypocrites, like most people.

The times demand it.

Do you know a lot of brave people,

heroes, friends?

But men are still wonderful.

If a man lives to see a single daisy, it's all worth it!

And there are woods,

elephants - the good elephants - and the "Communists"!

Uranus. Uranus!