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Marc...

I need a break.

What? Come on...

We used to talk, laugh, have sex...

But we don't talk or laugh anymore,

and the sex is bad.

Yeah. But...

And all your issues with the heating, burst pipes, leaky roof...

I can't take it anymore.

We used to have fun together, but we don't anymore.

Because there's three of us in this bedroom:

you, me...

and your damn church!

ONE SUMMER

When Jesus saw the crowds,

he went up on a mountainside and sat down.

He said:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,

for they will be filled.

"Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

"Blessed are those who mourn...

for they will be comforted."

Go in the peace of the Lord.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

It's humid, huh?

Wait till the cold comes.

We're not there yet. It's summer!

Yeah, but we owe Gaz Métro $88,000 and $100,000 to Hydro.

We can't get cut off.

We need to find some money, Marc, and fast.

Yeah, yeah. It'll all work out.

Oh yeah? When?

Providence is a thing of the past.

Three parishes have closed this month.

We're next.

Yeah.

Where am I gonna put everyone?

Yeah.

Oh, and I wanted to tell you...

a notary called.

I don't know what he wants, but I have a bad feeling.

Hi.

I need you at the church at 7:00 tonight.

A memorial for Dino. OK?

Tonight at 7:00.

A memorial for Dino at the church.

Can you take a look at my bike?

No problem, Father.

I'll make the rounds.

Tonight at the church, memorial for Dino.

Sébast!

What are you doing here?

I don't know.

There's something wrong with my truck.

It's too loose.

I don't know where to go.

Go to the presbytery. Sister Monique is there.

She'll feed you, and we'll have a look.

Tonight at 7:00, at the church. Memorial for Dino.

It'd be cool if you came.

OK.

- Hey! - Hi, Julien!

Listen, I'd be lying if I said I had good news.

I'm sorry.

Your story just doesn't check the right boxes at Immigration Canada.

You're not considered a victim of "direct persecution," as they say.

I would have had to get killed.

No, not killed, but be a witness.

You would have had to see your mother, father, brothers and sisters

die in front of you.

Sorry I'm late!

Boxes! They always want you to check boxes.

The whole system is maddening. It's awful.

We have one avenue left:

humanitarian.

It opens all kinds of doors.

But applying on humanitarian grounds is a balancing act.

One word too many, one missing comma, and it's instant deportation.

Look, we'll...

We'll write to the authorities

and tell them exactly what they want to hear.

You're all alone in the world. No mother, no father.

No motherland.

No country.

You, the Congolese people, have been dispossessed of your lands,

killed with Kalashnikovs.

Your women are raped

and your lands are stripped of shameful blood diamonds

while the UN turns a blind eye to the horrors and atrocities.

Still, I think I can help you.

Can I trust you?

I'll give it everything I've got, Father.

I'll have to reread The Dream of the Celt.

He talks like an African!

I'm not dead yet, doctor!

But if they keep pumping me full of drugs...

I don't think I'll last much longer.

Good timing, Father. I need your help.

Psalm, eight letters, ends with R-E-R-E.

Miserere.

I'll need you two tonight.

"And to thank him

"for everything Yvon Côté did for our family,

"I'm particularly pleased

"to bequeath my summer house in Sainte-Blandine-sur-Mer

"to his son, Marc Côté,

with a yearly annuity to maintain the house."

I didn't have time to say goodbye.

But if I did have a son,

I would have loved him like I did you.

My legs are tired, Marc.

I'm leaving.

May this house help you find a bit of happiness,

like you did for me all those years ago.

I love you, Son.

Oh, come on!

Summer camp for the homeless?

What? They're entitled to a vacation like everyone else.

If anyone needs a vacation here, it's you.

And I don't think you'll relax if you bring the whole street.

No, but think about it!

Two months of going fishing,

looking up at a sky with stars in it,

I think they'll find something inside themselves

they thought was long gone.

Marc, are you telling me you want to bring a gang of homeless people on vacation

because you can't kick them out of the church?

It won't work.

It takes more than just watching a tree to see it grow.

Look who's talking.

What?

Who's the woman I met in Central America

who wanted to save the world?

You were ready to pick up an AK-47 to fight misery.

If we can't even bring a few people to the country for the summer,

I don't know what we're doing here.

It's a big gamble.

Even for an idealist like you.

Aren't you one too, just a little?

Me? No!

Yes!

I have my feet on the ground.

But when I meet a Don Quixote like you...

I tell myself he needs me to handle logistics.

But I'm warning you, Marc Côté,

the lost causes stay home.

I hate this whole summer camp project.

The only nature I like...

Like a Monet painting.

Julien, put this in the van, please.

Miali, come help.

What are you doing? Come on!

Come!

OK, hang on a minute.

Load Molo's guitar.

Right this way.

Where do I put the bags?

We'll put you in front.

Easy. Slide down. You'll be comfortable there.

- This goes in the front? - Yep.

Take this.

Hi.

The food's there?

OK! Everything's loaded.

Are you sure he was coming?

There he is!

Finally!

Sorry I'm late.

No problem.

How's it going?

Hey, Sam.

Hello, Father.

So? You haven't changed your mind?

No.

Bunch of freaks...

I'm better off here.

And how's her paw?

- Better. - Yeah?

It'd do her a lot of good,

running around without the risk of being hit by a car.

Would you like to come to the country with us?

It's 35 degrees down here. That's hot for her.

Damn hot for those paw pads.

Think about it.

There's tons of trails out there. The house is right on waterfront.

She'd have a damn good time.

She's a water dog. She was made to swim.

Goddammit, Marc...

- It's hot. - Yeah. It never worked.

I'm gonna...

Julien, want a juice?

- Mustard? - Yes, please.

Go on.

Yes.

Want it?

Yes please!

I'm eating for two these days.

It's crazy, but I've never been out of the city before.

It's so different, I can barely breathe.

I'm the opposite.

I was suffocating in the city.

Where are you from?

Youth Protection.

You?

Kuujjuarapik.

Where's that?

Up north.

Is it a big city?

Not really.

It's a place where people drive slow and don't wear a seatbelt.

Nice, a place with no rules.

I'm gonna be like those folk

Who don't drink and don't smoke

I'll stay home and chill

I'll pay every bill

I'll learn to speak English

Sound real distinguished

I'm gonna be like those folk

Who don't drink and don't smoke

I'll wear some nice shoes

And read the news

I'll check up on sports

Count every corpse

I'll pass my checkup

Go and make some ketchup

We'll see what we see

I'll work hard as can be

I'm gonna be like those folk

Who don't drink and don't smoke

I'll show my team spirit

Get involved, all of it

I'll do what it takes

Shut your fucking mouths!

Oh! Thank you.

It's huge!

My God! That's a cabin?

It's...

Look at that!

Get my bag.

Come. We just have to undo this.

Need help?

The bag here.

I don't know what you're doing here, but this is private property.

It's OK.

Well, well... François Riendeau!

Come on, Frank. It's me, Marc!

- What are you doing here? - Well...

I'm the new owner of the estate.

Are you telling me...

you inherited the place?

Yeah, I know.

It's crazy!

Goddamn shit fuck motherfucker!

Frank, calm down.

I will not calm down.

It's not his estate.

My family's taken care of the place for 40 years!

Do you have any papers--

He can shove his papers up his ass!

It's not going down like this.

You best believe it's not going down like this.

We're gonna go.

It's not your estate!

You hear me?

It's not yours!

Come on.

It's not gonna be easy.

As usual.

Yeah.

Here.

That's nice of you. Thanks.

Who was that guy?

It's in the past. Forget it.

Nothing worse than an old grudge. It festers with time.

Take care of it, and fast.

Yeah.

'Cause when it comes to trouble, we're gonna have our hands full.

But we got here in one piece. That's something!

We can be proud of that, huh?

But now we need to get organized.

For the dishes, I have absolutely everything I need.

But what are we gonna put in them?

And you know these people get checks.

Julien is waiting for his papers.

So you have to go to the post office and all that.

The summer camp for the homeless is a good idea.

The house and everything, it's great.

But we have to keep them busy.

We don't want to spend the summer looking all over for them.

You know?

Yeah.

You want it delivered to the estate?

That would be great, thanks.

I'll have an order for the estate for you, sweetie.

How long for the changes of address?

For the summer.

- Oh yeah? - Yeah.

What are you exactly?

What do you mean?

Are you a commune, a cult?

We're...

We're a summer camp!

The village T-shirts...

I imagine you've already guessed my size?

Well, it's not that hard.

We have three options: small, medium, large.

The large is a real large, though. Not a slim fit.

- There. - Yeah, not bad.

I'll take a real large.

Good choice.

I'll put it in the bag.

That's great, thanks.

Have a nice day!

See you soon!

I can't believe the Scot left the estate to that ragtag bunch.

Yeah, but did you think you'd get it?

No! That's not it.

Leaving it to family would have been fine.

But a priest, come on!

You should see the gang of hobos there.

He brought over all the city riffraff!

Go on, tell him!

It ain't pretty.

Ain't pretty? It's a zoo!

It's like they emptied the hospital psych ward.

I'm not making this up!

The problem isn't just the estate, but the people in it.

Isn't there some bylaw

saying you can't turn an estate into an insane asylum?

I'll look into it with my council, OK?

So, who inherited the estate?

Guess, Kathleen!

Marc Côté.

Marc Côté!

Son of Yvon Côté?

The one who drowned?

Hi, François.

What are you doing here?

Can we talk, please?

Look, I know your dad looked after the estate,

and that you took over for him.

I want to assure you that Mr. MacNider made it very clear

he wanted you to stay on as the estate's caretaker.

And I do too.

Who the hell do you think you are?

You think I want to work for you?

I don't need your charity!

Take care of it yourself.

Ask that ragtag crew of yours!

Have a nice day.

You too.

You OK?

I am the dwindled son of a race of supermen

The violent

The strong, adventurous

From this strain I take the northland homesickness

Which comes with the gray days that autumn brings again.

All the fierce past of those coureurs de bois

Hunters and trappers, raftsmen, lumberjacks

Merchant-adventurers, laborers on hire

Bids me to seek the North for half the year.

And I dream of going there as my fathers did

I hear within me great white spaces crying

In the wastes they roamed, haloed by hurricanes:

And, as they did, I hate a master's chains.

Fucking hell!

I've had it with the fucking lawyer!

- Sam, calm down. - Gimme $20, and I'll go!

- You shut up! - Sam!

Go on.

I can't take it. I'm gonna go.

I'm going to Montreal.

I'm not OK.

Look, get your stuff off the porch

and go set up your tent next to the house.

When you need to breathe, you can hide out there with Daisy.

Give it time.

You're killing me.

Were you a pharmacist in another life?

Yeah.

Yep.

Yes.

Yeah.

When I was a lost 18-year-old...

I took my motorcycle and went to Central America.

Working in the street down there,

I figured out what to do with my life.

I can't believe your boyfriend left.

When I got pregnant, he dumped me.

What a jerk.

I never knew my dad.

And your mom?

Last time I saw her, I was 8.

I'm sorry.

It's fine.

Look.

Come.

You know, I've been tossed around a lot in life.

Seen a lot of places.

But a place like this, never.

Come!

I can't swim.

It's not deep.

Look!

Seals!

It's frickin' cold!

Come!

I'm not from up north!

It's not that bad.

You're crazy.

Come. Just the feet, at least.

I'll do both feet.

Good job.

How much did you say?

Uh, $5. That's $155.

You've come back to your roots!

Antonio Beaulieu!

I never thought I'd find you here.

See? I'm not dead!

No, but I'd have guessed you'd be a bishop by now.

No, thank the Lord!

I take care of 22 churches, on top of my own.

Hey, Kathleen?

We said $155 for the tickets?

- That's right. - OK.

A little glass of Vatican white?

Why not?

Kat! Bring us a glass.

What's going on with François Riendeau?

His Majesty François I!

He's got a hand in everything around here.

He's become the village king.

You knocked him off his throne by showing up here.

He just can't accept it.

So the whole village is on his side?

Well, your arrival disrupted things here, quite a lot.

Phone are ringing off the hook

with apocalyptic descriptions like the ten plagues of Egypt.

Look, the village is hosting a cookout to raise funds for the church.

Thank you.

Rings a bell, I'm guessing?

Yeah.

Bring the gang!

It'll reassure people.

We always imagine the worst, right?

OK. Well, I'm feeling peckish.

Would you eat?

Why not?

- Kathleen! - Yeah?

- Do you still have the shrimp terrine? - Coming right up!

Yeah. Goes well with the wine.

Pass the salt and pepper.

Father Beaulieu invited us to the annual village cookout.

They can go to hell! They want nothing to do with us.

That's just it!

We may have messed up our lives, but let's not mess up our summer.

We'll show them we're good folk, not a bunch of riffraff.

And that we've got class!

I'll wear my best gown!

When I used to beg on the streets, I always wore a tie.

When you're nice and clean, you rake it in!

You take off your hat, even in the rain.

The ladies often told me they'd give on their way out of the store.

I always told them:

"But, ma'am, I might not be here then.

It's cold today!"

On the street...

I was really loved.

Monique, you look beautiful!

A real bombshell!

Your Royal Highness!

You look beautiful!

- So handsome! - All right.

Come on, Molo, easy.

Corn!

Hey! I gotta talk to you.

Yes, sir!

Are you, uh...

working tonight?

For you, all night long.

- Go on. - Thanks.

- Bring it back, though. - I will.

Hey, tell that priest to turn his sausages.

- You OK? - Yeah.

Here, ma'am.

What are they doing here?

Did you invite them?

No.

Who's the asshole that invited them here?

I am.

Watch the sausages.

Régis, this is crazy!

Father Beaulieu invited them.

Hello!

- Hello! - Sister Monique.

- Antonio Beaulieu. - Nice to meet you.

We have a table for you here. Table of honor!

- Thank you! - This way.

You're welcome.

Now do you believe me?

The homeless on vacation.

- Everyone OK? - Yes! We're great.

Allow me.

Thank you!

This is bullshit!

Madame Claudine!

Sometimes, I wonder what people here have seen.

They freak out over a few little flies.

Yeah.

Thank you!

- Want some? - It's gonna be good!

Want me to do it?

I'll be back.

A nice change from spaghetti dinners!

You're beautiful.

Do you want to keep it?

Allow me.

Thank you.

Madame Claudine, the village hairdresser.

Madame Claudine.

Sounds like Madame Claude.

I don't often meet men so well-versed in Parisian brothel culture.

You'd never guess, but I've worked in International Relations.

They could hang around till fall like dung flies.

So I'm not sure we'll be able to keep up our activities at the estate.

So, you can forget about using the skidoo trails.

Same for you. Your hunting days are over.

Hey!

No! From now on, you'll have to go through him for permission.

And our garden parties?

Search me.

What about my wedding photos?

I don't know, goddammit! I'm not the manager anymore.

You gotta ask the Montreal priest.

Well, hold up.

Is he at least cooperative?

Cooperative?

Have you seen the gang of hobos with him?

Fuck you, asshole! Fuck you!

Hey, Sam!

My mama always told me to be kind to cripples.

Cool it, Sam.

I'll get him a beer.

- You'll handle it? - Yeah.

Here.

Mr. Mayor, come dance with me.

- Me? - Go on, Régis.

- Please. - Well, sure.

Goddamn Régis!

Pardon me.

I'm not much of a dancer.

You?

Me? No.

The last time I danced in the arms of a boy, I was 17.

The next summer, I became a nun.

Have you lived in the village for long?

Oh, Sister, I was born here, and I'll die here.

I don't mean to brag,

but Sainte-Blandine-sur-Mer is a damn fine village.

Yes, you're right.

Your head must be filled with beautiful memories.

Yeah.

My favorite memories are from July, when it's nice and warm out.

Two feet in the creek, fishing with my father.

You're taking me back!

Can I share something with you?

Of course.

That's what we're trying to do in bringing our friends here.

Bring some carefree moments to their difficult lives.

When you put it that way...

- You understand? - Yeah.

Get over here, asshole!

- Get over here! - Sam!

I'll rip your head off, asshole!

I'd like to see you try.

Let go of me!

- Enough. - It's OK.

Cool it.

This isn't the time to fight.

One, two, one, two. Attention!

I'd like everyone's attention.

It's time for the door prizes!

Get your tickets out!

OK! We have the box.

Father, thank you.

I don't have my glasses.

1-2-2-2-2-8.

You better not show your face at the estate!

Goddamn welfare leeches!

And you! Look at him, the savior...

Couldn't even save his own father!

You're letting him talk to you like that?

Let go of me!

Not so tough now, are you?

Marc, go.

Sam!

Next time, you're dead.

OK, it's over. Go on.

We're leaving.

Go. Go on, everyone.

Pass the jug.

Jeez, Sam!

Leave some for the rest of us.

And cool it with the leg.

Can you pass me a sugar packet, Molo?

Still no news about Julien's papers?

Festina lente, Father.

Quebec is at the mercy of the summer vacation schedules

of the civil servants in Ottawa.

Sorry.

- Hello! - Hi.

We're here to deliver the wood for my pontoon.

What is that?

It's the materials Frank ordered for the pontoon at my daughter's wedding.

We sorted it out with him, but he says he's not the boss anymore.

My wife and I are a bit worried.

So, for our date, are we still OK?

We have to send out invitations.

My daughter wanted the wedding on the 23rd.

- The 23rd of... - September.

Of course.

The estate is usually pretty busy with weddings at that time of year.

Listen, this is the first I'm hearing of all this.

Are there a lot of events like this at the estate?

No, no, no.

Well, we're not the only event.

But apart from wedding photos, do we use it for anything else?

Well, there's the Kiwanis Club barbecue.

And hunting in October.

But aside from that, I don't think...

Does François still sell permits for the skidoo trail?

Well, I don't have a skidoo. I don't know.

So, what are we doing about my daughter's wedding?

We already put down a deposit.

Don't worry. We'll build your pontoon.

Thanks!

- We'll put the stuff there? - Yes.

Perfect.

Don't lose the plan! It's the most important part.

It's easy, you'll see.

Everything is written out step by step: the screws, pieces of wood...

OK, we'll get going.

Hey, you there...

You're a real piece of work!

Playing the victim, acting like we're profiteers,

but it's you!

You're profiting off the estate!

But that's enough, OK?

Quit turning the village against our gang,

or else the little business you've built at the estate,

the village will have it for free.

Think about it.

We'll move it.

There might be less.

Other side.

Angel, I need the westcott.

Right behind me.

The Hour of the Cows,

by...

Yeah, we'll do it after.

...by Blanche Lamontagne.

Not him, dammit.

Daylight is fading, said the elder to the helpers.

Some heavy, others light,

they trudged through the thick grass.

And there, at the end of the field,

where the reddish cows lingered in the bush,

basking in the setting sun.

Hey, get out of here!

Or I'll make you eat your words, one by one.

Sam!

He's worse than a goddamn beehive.

So, the helpers cried...

Come now, come!

Go, cow, go! Go, cow, go!

Do you ever shut your mouth?

Fucking psycho!

What the fuck do you want?

Fuck you and your fucking westcott!

Angel...

You lawyers are all the same, a bunch of fucking loudmouths!

You talk, talk, talk!

And fuck people over, like you're doing with us!

OK, Sam, enough.

You're just a fucking show-off, a bullshitter.

Were you even a real lawyer? We don't fucking know!

Always reciting your shitty fucking poems!

What are you without your bullshit?

You're nothing! Just a fucking loser.

And you stink. You smell like shit!

Get the fuck out of here!

Didn't I ask you to leave when you get riled up?

Did I get any mail?

No, Maître. I checked again this morning.

Nothing.

It's not all for me.

I'll settle the usual way?

No problem.

I'll put it on your tab. Pay me when you get your check.

Yeah.

See you tomorrow.

Yeah.

Maybe.

Take care of yourself.

Mind your own business!

We need to talk.

You got mad at goddamn God?

No.

I was pissed at the pope.

And I went to talk to the fucking pope.

...and I have the right to love.

And?

Nothing.

Maître!

Maître!

Fuck!

I'm sorry.

I gambled everything...

and I lost it all.

I lost my house.

I lost my wife.

I lost my daughter.

I'm an asshole.

I'm the asshole.

I didn't say I hate your poems.

Did I say I hate them?

Poetry, Sam, is all I have left in life.

I don't get poetry.

It happens.

To our great work on the pontoon!

To us!

Great.

How did you two meet?

- Us? - Yeah.

Me.

I told her I needed a nurse to take care of me.

She believed me!

I tried to kill myself too.

Didn't work?

No...

I failed.

Threw myself into the falls by the military base in Quebec.

The cops picked me up.

You ain't lucky.

No.

And then?

I was in the army.

Went on a lot of missions. I enlisted at 17.

Wound up in Afghanistan.

That was fucking tough.

Afghanistan...

it was hell.

You see stuff over there...

It's, like, unbearable.

One day, I was patrolling a market with my boys.

A bomb went off.

It went off.

When I got up...

I couldn't see anyone.

I was sweating all the way down to my boots.

I walked through my buddies, fuck.

I couldn't save a single goddamn one.

When I got home...

I was fucked up.

I couldn't sleep.

My wife and kids didn't recognize me anymore.

I wanted to die.

And then the booze and all that...

I'd pay a fortune to have my brain erased.

Not everything, I hope.

You know, Sam, when things like this happen,

we look for explanations.

We can keep asking ourselves why they died and we didn't,

but logic can't give us an answer.

In the Congo, we've seen so many things.

If the Congolese saw therapists,

they'd need their own therapists to cope with the horrors.

I lost everything too.

My family is buried in a pit.

I don't know where.

Life is chaos, man.

We have to spin straw into gold.

Because it's all we have left.

And now we can all discard.

Mrs. Cécile.

Your cards.

Oh, Sister Monique!

OK, check this out.

I don't know what I want anymore.

Here you are, dear sir.

Hello, hello!

Oh, Maître! I have mail for you guys.

Hang on a second.

Here.

Anything else I can do for you?

Nicole...

In my quest for spice...

I'd empty your shelves.

Well, it is barbecue season!

You don't have to be so formal.

Yeah.

- Have a nice day. - Have a nice day.

I forget the world

When Frédéric reminds me

Of our teenage loves

Our sorrows, our home

Without forgetting

Our friends from the street

Now scattered

By the four winds

We weren't poets

Or priests or troublemakers

But daddy loved us

Do you remember Sundays?

Around the table

We'd laugh and talk

While mama fed us

But then

Then life chewed you up

Like it always does sooner or later

And I followed

Now you drink wine

It's more serious

Daddy's getting old

It's all getting old

I forget the world

When Frédéric reminds me

Of our teenage loves

Our sorrows, our home

Without forgetting

Our friends from the street

Now scattered

By the four winds

We weren't poets

Or priests or troublemakers

What was my husband's name again?

André.

That's it.

My Dédé...

Yeah. Life's a drag, huh?

Yeah.

I got my check!

Out of debt, out of danger.

Yes, sir.

Miss!

A round for the lady and the gentleman.

It's on me.

- To the millionaire for the night! - Yes!

- Vodka. - Yeah.

I never showed you a photo of my daughters, huh?

This is Rosalie.

This is Alicia.

She's just like her mother.

They're beautiful.

Yeah. But I don't see them anymore.

But that doesn't stop me from wishing them goodnight every damn night.

I wish I had you when I got divorced.

My wife cleaned me out.

She got everything.

She got my fucking tools!

Dispossessing a man of his tools warrants...

the maximum penalty set out in the Criminal Code.

Fucking rights!

But you know, Sam, families...

are like furniture.

Once they're taken apart...

they can't be put together again.

Fuck, Master.

Come on.

Let's go see Madame Claudine.

Yes!

Oh yes.

Yeah, yeah.

That'll be fine.

So as not to feel the horrible burden of time

crushing your shoulders and bending you toward the earth,

you must get drunk without rest.

But on what?

On wine, on poetry...

or on virtue;

you choose.

But get drunk.

Come on, Master, let's go!

Go on.

Where is she?

Madame Claudine!

You said 221!

Well, it says...

"Madame Claudine's Hair Salon."

So...

Small sign.

Watch out! We'll take a slight turn.

- Here? - No!

- Fuck! - Oh, shit, Master!

You hit a recycling bin.

Let's try another one!

Shit!

Sam, it's her!

Madame Claudine!

This is my friend Sam!

Hi, Madame Claudine!

Think you could squeeze us in?

Oh, shit!

She didn't see us coming!

We better get out of here.

OK, hop on!

We're off! Hang on tight!

Unbelievable!

OK. Sorry about the wait.

Well, we're not here for coffee.

François asked me to give you another chance.

But what happened last night is the straw that broke the camel's back.

Burning a statue honoring the first settlers,

who worked themselves to the bone to clear the ground.

We'll pay for all of the damage.

And the guys will clean it up.

- Yes. - Oh, no.

We don't want to see those guys around the village again.

Starting now, to maintain the peace between our communities,

I'd ask you to keep them here.

That'll be all.

I'm sorry.

Goodbye, Sister.

Goodbye.

Bloody hell!

That was some ride, though!

Sébast?

I'm going back home.

Well, let me come with you.

You'd be way too cold up north!

You and me, it's not possible.

I decided to keep my baby.

I can help if you want.

I need my mom.

You're handsome.

Thank you.

A little poem I wrote.

The blues of an Inuit who pines

For the scent of her land

The scent of the sea

She wonders what she's doing here

Thank you.

Her heart sings a chorus

Of going back to Kuujjuarapik

You know, not everyone knows how to love...

and be loved.

However long it lasted,

that's the gift Miali gave you.

And no one can take that away from you.

What are you doing?

I'm nothing!

In my day, we were bent on saving souls.

It made me do more bad than good.

Especially to women,

who I'd tell to bear children to avoid burning in hell.

What did I know about the world?

Apart from the seminary.

Some days, I'm jealous of the vicar in Métis.

He's a grandfather several times over.

I have a girlfriend in Montreal.

I guess it's easier to be discreet in a big city.

I would have liked to live with a woman.

For the rest, I'm too old to go to my neighbor's anymore.

Madame Claudine?

Oh yeah?

Here. Have a look at this.

It's the end of an era.

The cookouts are just a Band-Aid,

to make us feel better about the advanced cancer.

We have to admit it's the end.

People don't need us anymore.

We're nothing but actors

performing Shakespeare to an empty theatre.

It's the bitter end.

All that will be left of us...

is a pile of stones as a testament to the pride of our faith.

That's it.

I always thought that...

we'd help each other in my parish, but...

I was wrong.

Everything I built is crumbling.

You know, Marc...

a church can become a refuge to the person running it.

Saving people is all well and good.

It's noble and big, but it can be addictive.

It's like hard drugs. You always need more.

Because deep down,

you're trying to fix something that can't be fixed.

Your father died under tragic circumstances.

But...

you could either let him sink...

or he would have pulled you down with him.

And now your church is sinking.

You can't save the world, Marc.

You're my whole life.

So when you pull stunts, I worry.

When you're rejected, I feel rejected too.

It hurts me.

I spent my life trying to save people.

But I can't do it anymore.

My back is against the wall.

Our parish doesn't have a dime to its name, so...

I'm forced to close the church and the presbytery.

Don't worry, Mrs. Cécile.

We'll take good care of you, OK?

I would have loved...

to save you all.

Every last one of you.

But...

I'm realizing I just have to...

I have to let you go.

Thinking about you.

No, no, no.

If François sees you here,

all hell will break loose in town and no one will shop here.

I'm here in a professional capacity, as a lawyer.

Is there any mail for me?

Yes!

Yes, you got something. Wait.

It was a big envelope!

Where is it?

Maître Genin.

Jean-Pierre.

I'm sorry. It's not you.

It's just that I don't want any trouble.

Nicole...

Yeah.

He was a deep-sea diver, and he didn't know how to swim.

He spent his life underwater without knowing how to swim.

In my field, Julien,

we're often told no before someone says yes.

Whatever the answer...

I'll be here to fight for you.

"Your request for asylum has been approved."

"Your status now allows you

to begin the integration process."

Thank you!

Thank you, Lord! Thank you!

Congratulations.

Now, let's go walk like kings.

Don't lose that!

Are you ready to listen?

You'll have to warn the angels.

Because this is where I want to die.

No...

My body's gone to shit.

Right next to my head...

there's this ball.

It's my soul.

It'll come back to help me live a better life.

But before I go...

I need to see a woman's body.

Should I join you up there or...

do you wanna grab a couple chairs?

Ever since I got here, it's like we're kids again.

You're 12, and I'm 11.

Why'd you quit talking to me when your dad died?

You became a fucking snob.

What, I wasn't good enough for you?

That's not it.

It's just that my father wasn't even gone 24 hours

before your dad replaced him.

He came by like nothing happened and took my father's place,

as if he never existed.

I was all alone.

My mom was crying at the cemetery day and night.

The only person looking after me was Mr. MacNider.

So, yeah.

I did start to hate you.

'Cause you still had a dad, and I didn't.

Because as you so nicely put it in front of everyone...

I couldn't save him.

No. I was mad and wanted to hurt you.

OK, and what do you want me to do now?

You want me to sell the estate?

Would that really make you feel better?

All 'cause I quit talking to you as a kid?

No, that's not it.

But do you know how it felt for me to lose the estate?

It was my life, goddammit.

I've been going there with my dad since I was 12.

It was our estate.

When the Scot stopped coming, I felt like it was mine.

Did you ever think about how that would make me feel?

You didn't even call! It was like a slap in the face.

I felt like the sky was shitting on me.

I should have called you.

I'm sorry, François.

All right.

Hey, does your gang eat eggs?

Yeah.

Come see the system I rigged up to heat my hens.

It's awesome.

Thanks again. It was a beautiful service.

Mrs. Cécile...

My condolences.

I hope you'll take off your jacket. It's so hot out.

Nicole, it's my gown.

But...

for you.

Thanks.

Mr. Mayor...

- My condolences. - Thank you.

I'm sorry for your loss.

Thank you.

Sister Monique...

- Thank you. - My condolences.

I'm so sorry, Sister Monique.

You're too kind.

I have something to show you.

This is what the estate looked like when I was young.

It was like a paradise.

Yes, a paradise.

It's beautiful.

Don't cry, Sister.

May he rest in peace.

I'm here for you.

You're welcome.

We'll have beautiful memories.

Come here.

I'm worried.

Yeah, but he's always late.

There he is!

Hi, Nicole!

Sorry I'm late.

Friends, I've come to say goodbye.

I've decided to stay.

Thanks to you, I want to live again.

I don't think it was just us, huh?

So long, friends.

I'm coming!

Get in here. He makes me laugh!

- Hi. - Hi.

Translation by Elisabeth Gillies

Subtitles by MELS