Marie.
Let's light the tree.
I was born with music...
...one Christmas Eve.
- Come on, once more. - Let me sleep.
Am I bothering you?
It's great, the three of us together like this, isn't it, Marcel?
I'm Jérôme.
Who gives a damn?
It's all solid beef, right, Solange?
Right, Solange?
I've got nothing against it but maybe your friend...
Solange? She's no prude.
If someone puts you up, it's only normal.
The two of us should fix you something special.
I'm getting bad vibes. It's time we left.
A real gourmet! Plenty of good things in there.
Lots of puff pastry, cream cheese, and banana whips.
What a mummy's boy.
A right old fatty.
Look, Solange. Look.
Incredible.
- This is my place. - So?
Get out.
How could you sleep with that? He'll be bald in two years.
- You're slumming. - That'll do.
He's like a camembert.
Flab. Oozing grease.
You're hopeless.
I'm ready.
You're always ready.
- We're off. - But I'm hungry.
Come on, hurry up.
Keep it up.
Can you drop me off?
- I... - You're so kind.
- Where to? - Place des Vosges.
St Augustine first, if you don't mind. Thanks.
Your outfit's very pretty.
Can I lend you binoculars?
- Tights are my line of business. - That's nice.
I'm just back from Hong Kong. I'll give you my card.
Eyeing my arse and the meter.
He's paying so he thinks he has rights. They buy you dinner...
...and add it all up.
800 francs the meal.
A film, 150. Even if they funk saying it...
...inside they're thinking they'd do better with a tart.
- Do you have a phone number? - Yes, I must have it but...
I left so fast, I forgot my money. Could you spare me 500 francs?
She can talk you into anything.
Even make me eat pork.
- I'll call you next week. - No problem. Bye.
You conned him?
- What number did you give? - Social Services.
- A hello for me? - Hello, Samuel.
Don't bend the pages.
- And what about me? - Hello, Celio.
- What's up today? - Pluto and the black moon.
Pluto represents the subconscious and the moon, your dark side.
Careful. Those are rare books.
Old junk more like.
Distant Pluto invites you to discover the secret of your origins.
To see behind the sacrifice that deprived you of a real home.
- What do the stars say about me? - Stop sleeping around.
Exploring that pain and deprivation
...will give you the power to plan your life.
To discover the truth.
- You have 'Elle', miss? - Do I look like a salesgirl?
Stop that.
On the rack.
What's up with you today? Do you feel ill?
Do you want to talk?
Get off my back.
Want my photo?
When I'm unkind to him, I hate myself.
The ones you love always bear the brunt just because they care.
- I knew it! - Shut the door.
You only come when you need something.
Surely you get welfare?
We only have your dad's pension.
And now you produce this child. We don't even know her.
- How old is she? - She's 3 years old.
She's the best thing I ever did and all I have.
We aren't a hotel. We don't need a Christmas gift like this!
I can't pay my rent. We'll be evicted.
It's only for a few months, I promise.
At our age, a child is very tiring.
Where's the man?
He left me. He doesn't know he has a daughter.
That's great. I sacrifice myself to bring you up...
and now you expect us to start again with a fatherless brat.
She hates the dark.
I'll draw back the curtains.
No, it's Father's nap time. Leave them.
I can't take draughts. Must you always cause trouble?
I'll make the child some tea.
We have rules.
Either you obey them or you stay away.
- Merry Christmas. - Good riddance.
I'm hungry. Let's go for lunch.
- We'll leave our bags. - As usual.
That's the thirteenth in a fortnight.
I'm really sorry!
Isn't there something missing up top?
I thought it looked classic.
I'll never wear this cap. Never.
- Come on out. - Are you sulking?
The cap looks great. Everyone thinks so.
- It looks great on you. - No, it's not true.
Ahmed, come here.
He's very difficult.
Marie, come and help me. Don't let him leave.
Excuse me, please.
Stop him fetching his things. Block the changing-room door.
Ahmed, come back.
I've been robbed.
- Stop thief. - They went that way.
Hurry up.
- My feet hurt and look at this gear! - Go and buy some rice.
- Buy? - Yes, buy.
No, rice makes you fat.
The Chinese aren't fat.
- Stop throwing that rice. - Why? It's a wedding.
A lovely couple.
- Her dress is superb. - Too low-cut for her flat chest.
- They look so happy. - It will be downhill from now on.
Orangeade, please.
You're my fondest memory, Gilles.
- I can confess now. I was a virgin. - I did notice.
I'm bored with dancing.
I'm not.
O.K. Just this one then.
It's a Rolex?
Yes.
Is it gold?
- Yes. The inside too. - Hold on, even the inside is gold?
Bloody hell!
Do you have a phone number?
You could try my local call box or Samuel's.
That's the bookshop next to...
Marie knows.
We haven't been introduced. What's your name?
Solange.
- You're related to the bride? - Yes. That's right.
So we're cousins.
That means you're my cousin too.
- You're muddling me. - You must meet the family.
- They'll be delighted. - Stop it.
Leave her alone.
My father only screws maids too.
Excuse me. Who's your father?
I'd like to know who is the father...
...of that charming blonde over by the buffet.
I am.
Oh, it's you?
Yes.
And you only sleep with maids?
Is that true?
Your daughter says so.
Whilst your wife initiates the family's boys.
All those boys present...
...raise your hands.
Bride, your dress is lovely...
...but that mosquito-net woman says you're too flat for it.
And the groom.
Wasn't I good enough for you?
I wasn't from your world? I wasn't rich enough?
So you had your fun and chucked me.
Get down.
Touch her and you die.
Well, so long.
So long.
- Good luck. Happy screwing. - Stop that.
You had it off with the husband?
- I don't even know him. - Then why?
Just to annoy them. It's always the same ones who are happy.
Stop thief!
- What does that mean? - Best wishes.
100 francs.
- Wait. - Oh, yes. Sorry.
- Madame? - Two packs of liquorice.
Two packets of liquorice, that's 15 francs.
- Nothing smaller? - No.
Madame?
What do you want?
A lighter.
Which one?
Make up your mind. People are waiting.
60 francs.
100 francs...
A packet of Craven A.
- Five. Give me five. - Five what?
You gave me 100 francs. Look, it's correct. O.K.?
- 500 francs. - He gave you 500.
No he did not. He gave me 100 francs.
It's written... I written...
He doesn't speak French.
- He gave you 500. - I don't have all day.
It was 100 francs.
Hold it. What is it?
The boy paid with a 500 franc note.
It says Ya diout bal dé on the note.
Check the till.
You made us look real idiots.
- You don't want to stay with them? - No.
They'll still keep in touch.
They love you, you know.
Why don't you want to stay with them?
You're rude, you answer back...
...but what have they done to you?
We each made a promise, remember?
Don't force her to stay with us.
You ran away.
Don't you keep your promises?
No.
And you promised me to eat more.
You let me down on that too.
One thing I want you to know.
You can always see your grandparents.
They'll fetch you from the home any time.
I don't love them.
Well, we'll pin their phone number over your bed.
Will I share a room with another girl?
Yes.
Will you say goodbye now or later?
There are lots of children here with no mum, dad or family.
But you have loving grandparents.
At least say goodbye to them.
Goodbye, Grandpa. Goodbye, Grandma.
Marie, are you coming with me?
Your room is ever so pretty.
What's wrong?
Shoplifting again?
Are you a complete incurable?
I've been booked by that bitch.
Booked?
Come with me.
Tonight, the Christmas Eve party.
Eight o'clock in the canteen in the presence of the Head.
Be punctual and suitably dressed.
Good morning.
Good morning, Marie.
Good morning, Solange.
Sit down. You're not the cleaner.
Yes, I'm listening.
Well, it's about Solange.
How can I put it?
She can't spend Christmas in a home for delinquents.
That's a matter for Solange and me.
She made a mistake.
She's sorry.
She makes a lot of mistakes.
Particularly in supermarkets - and repeatedly.
It really doesn't concern you.
Anything else?
I know you have our interests at heart and are acting for the best.
Everyone here thinks so.
- Right, Solange? - Yes.
Thank you.
You take really good care of us.
So good that...
...some people say it's too good. You look amazed.
Yet everyone knows you're attentive, close, sometimes even too close.
The other day, Nadine said...
"She takes such good care of me".
She could have said "She takes such good care of me" in a normal voice.
I could say it myself and...
...Solange too. Right, Solange?
Yes if Marie says so, I could say so too.
You see?
What are you implying?
If Solange leaves...
...I don't know what will happen.
We'll see.
Your word against fifteen signatures.
Seventeen.
Lesbian. That stays on file.
It's like a bad smell. It follows you everywhere.
Well done. You've got a bright future.
A future? What future?
Think about it.
We women understand each other.
If she doesn't come out, we've won.
We haven't even passed Go and we're out on the street.
Don't be uptight. Relax. Forget it all.
Anyway, I've got plans.
We're getting out. There's not enough air.
- Where are we going? - We're invited to lunch.
- Whose place? - Some very nice people.
In this lousy neighbourhood?
Here?
Yes, here.
Don't answer.
I know you're in there. It's me, Marie.
You might open the door. It would help.
- How tall you've grown. - You can grow a lot in ten years.
How you've changed!
Why have you come?
Who's there?
- Father Christmas. - Marie. She's come to give us a hug.
Rip the paper or you'll be hours.
- Can I change the channel? - No, leave it.
But I don't understand German.
- Let's turn it down at least. - Listel wine.
You remembered?
Yes, I remember.
I got you biscuits in a nice box...
...with a pretty Swiss picture.
So kind.
I'll put it with the others.
I can imagine I'm travelling.
In my day it was just Morlin.
Now it's Morlin and Sons.
Grandparents!
I didn't know Marie had any family.
Give it here. You're all thumbs.
That's the foundations in 1964.
This is the main structure.
There were real workers then.
They're so old. They were old even when they were young.
I swear I'll never be old. Look at her.
She puts it one way, then another way.
She's shrinking, shrivelling. Like her cake, all dried up inside.
And him - small, mean, always afraid of missing out.
His heart all twisted.
We only see you when you need something.
And the child? Where's she from?
You turn up with her. We don't even know her. Where's she from?
Silly cow. I know where I'm from.
At our age, you know, a child will tire us out in no time.
Who's the father?
I couldn't have lived in your shoe box of a house anyway.
It's the size of your vault at the cemetery. It smells of mothballs.
So now we've got to start again with a fatherless brat.
It's too dark.
Winter with old people lasts thirty years.
We have to open up.
No, we only open after your father's nap.
Yes.
I can't take draughts. Leave us be.
- It stinks. We have to open up. - No, there'll be a draught.
- You need air. - Close the window.
He'll catch his death. He hardly walks now.
He needs his nap.
Yes. So he lasts longer, like a bunny with a battery.
Let's feed the little quack-quacks.
- You were so nice. - We won't let you in again.
But you'll keep this? To drink with my mum?
- You're mean. - And you, stop snivelling.
What did you ever do for her?
What do you want?
Why didn't you take in my mother? Why?
We were out on the street.
It's silly but each time she takes off I sulk.
With her it's always a party: Coke...
...a mountain of Big Macs. I'd be lost without her.
- You O.K., sister? - Know a Desmoulin living here?
No Desmoulin, no Dupont.
Just Larbi, Kamara, Yousbir. In this stinking hole, there's only us.
- Might your parents know? - They don't even know me.
But the crazy guy will know. I'll take you to him.
Your mother? A tart.
How do you know?
Ask her neighbour, Chapelier. He moved to Cergy Pontoise.
22 rue Clignancourt. He was the last...
...to leave this vile mosque.
What did my mother ever do to you?
Ask Chapelier. He didn't go short.
She was a whore.
Say that to my face.
Cergy Pontoise, that's the address.
- Take his address. - Let me get some sleep.
Touch my sister and you're dead.
Let go, witch.
Those dirty blacks are trying to smoke me out. I'll shoot you all.
That bastard set the place on fire.
Stop following me like some mongrel.
Goodbye. Do you understand French at least?
I'll protect you from the bad guys.
Leave me alone. Buzz off.
- Why do you want to come with me? - Stay on the estate and I'll turn bad.
You want that? You're dial-a-goddess, a beach holiday, a breath of fresh air.
I've no house by the sea.
No home at all.
About your mum...
- Drop it, O.K.? - Don't cry.
I'm sure it's not true. That guy is a git.
I'm not crying because of him. The smoke got in my eyes.
I've no energy for Paris.
When someone puts you up, a screw is always part of the deal.
There's no one to take me in his arms.
And I'm tired.
- Where are you taking me? - To my place.
I wouldn't sleep with you just because I'm putting you up.
You're not exactly offering me the Ritz.
But still, it's our little nest.
And I wouldn't do it right away because I respect you.
- You've never slept with anyone. - Yes I have, but not with just anyone.
- Ahmed. - What?
Stop thinking about dial-a-porn. It'll give you spots.
It's the cops!
- That's not funny. - Where were you?
Come on.
- Hello, Kevin. - Not you again.
- Are we disturbing you? - Yes.
He'll raid the fridge again. Marie, if he wolfs everything, you pay.
- Nicked specially for you. - I don't want trouble with the cops.
- Get the cleaner to spray the house. - So you think you're staying here?
No, give me that.
Hello, yes. No, I'll call you later. I'm sorry. Bye.
It's the last time you set foot in here. Is that clear?
Calm down. If people visit it drives you mad.
If no one comes, you sulk.
- Ahmed, answer the phone. - No, not him.
Drop the Arab accent. And take down the messages correctly.
- I'm just going to do the shopping. - Leave her with the concierge.
All right, come in. This way. Come with me.
My God, what a nightmare.
It's not possible. I'm cursed. Solange!
- Did the cleaning lady wash my tights? - Yes. That's the last time.
- For you. - I'm not here.
He's not here.
May I get my glasses from my own bathroom?
- Glasses or binoculars? - I mean, really.
These guys are just too cool.
Any time they want.
Where's Ahmed?
With that tall blonde wearing specs.
Oh, yes.
I really like this one, the surfing type.
- Just your type. - Really? No joke, he's adorable.
I can't believe it.
"70% of girls who sleep with boys...
"...do it just for the boys' pleasure".
I'm no saint.
We should be paid for it.
You're such a tart.
I wouldn't mind if the man was cute.
Would you mind?
Him, for example.
You often have drinks with strangers?
Not a total stranger.
What will it be?
What would you like?
A Schweppes.
A Schweppes and a beer.
Maybe I spoke first. I don't recall.
It's not my usual custom.
No, it was me, I think.
I'm 50, you know.
That doesn't matter.
I find that very touching.
My life is pretty full.
I don't know how to tell you.
You're married?
Not really, any more.
Some day you'll understand.
When you look at me like that...
...it gives me hope.
May I hope?
I may hope then?
Maybe deep down...
How can I put it?
Maybe you prefer mature men?
If I made a pass at you...
...it's because I felt I attracted to you.
This is unbelievable.
It's not true?
Yes, but...
You're so frank.
How should we go about it?
Should we meet again here or...
I don't know.
400 for a blow job, 1,000 all the way.
I thought that it was...
What will it be?
There's a hotel close by. Will that do?
ROOMS BY THE DAY
- Is she of age? - Yes, she's a pro.
Remember everything, forget nothing. That's how he did it with her.
She must have been thinking of a shower, a hot shower.
I hope you see me from up there...
...and that it hurts like hell.
- What are you doing? - I'm a minor. Know what that means?
You bitch.
Mum, Mum!
- Shut up. - Any closer and I'll whistle.
Know the penalty for raping a minor?
You could lose your wife, your job.
I'll call the cops, alert the hotel.
Claude Chapelier, rue Clignancourt.
How do you know?
What have I done to you?
I have kids.
About my age?
Leave my kids out of this.
You want money?
No. The truth.
What truth?
You knew Elisa Desmoulin?
The one who committed suicide?
Louder. I can't hear.
Yes, I knew her.
Give me your clothes.
And your pants.
You wanted to show me your cock a minute ago. Move your hands.
Is it true what they say?
You were her sugar-daddy?
Answer! Or must I ask your wife?
Yes, I was.
Tell me all. How much, how often...
What you did.
Just blow-jobs. She said that wasn't being unfaithful.
The idiot.
What did she charge?
Enough to buy clothes. Why do you ask?
None of your business. Go on.
The department store paid her peanuts.
So for dresses or an evening out...
...it was me or her bosses.
And he didn't say anything?
- Who's he? - Her husband.
He was a pimp and a bar pianist.
He was onto a good thing.
I'm sure he forced her.
Why the whistle?
I didn't ask your opinion of him.
I've nothing against you really... but look at yourself.
You make me cringe.
I bet your greasy hair clogs the drain.
But you have dandruff all the same.
And you've an old man's arse already.
You are the anti-love vaccine.
Go on. Make a little effort for me.
Jerk off.
You're truly ugly.
Keep going.
- These came flying out the window. - We couldn't get them off fast enough.
See your clothes? Look.
Can you drop me off?
- You can't smoke here. - Yes, you can. Look.
Where have you been the last six months?
What do you live off?
The Foster Bureau set up an official search.
You terrorized your grandparents.
Seriously. They filed a complaint.
Have you finished now?
Was my mother a whore?
And my father a pimp?
I'd like an answer.
I'm bound to secrecy. Some information is confidential.
Look, your father...
You're not doing your job. You're meant to lie.
To lie in your teeth. If the truth's no good, you have to dress it up...
Don't tell me fibs. You have to sell me a dream.
My dad was a respectable pianist.
My grandparents loathed him. Just for that I could have loved him.
In six months, I'll be eighteen and I'll learn the truth anyway.
I don't believe it! There are only losers here.
You, for example. No kids, I bet.
No love-life. You're scared of growing old.
You wear fake Chanel. You wanted to be a surgeon, not a psycho-babbler.
Shall I go on?
To sum up: You're paid to give advice.
The paternal image, the Grey areas of childhood.
And so on and so forth.
At least tell me the truth. I can take it.
I'm next door...
...if you need me.
Marie Desmoulin.
Desmoulin Jacques, born 22nd February.
Desmoulin Elisa, origins unknown.
Father's domicile unknown, mother dead.
Incompatibility with grandparents.
Circumstances of admission. Following the suicide of mother...
...wife of Jacques Desmoulin sentenced in absentia in 1976...
...to three years for...
...pimping.
Autopsy: Cranial perforation.
Shot at close range. Burns on the left cheek.
Gun barrel placed against left jaw.
Impact shattered the cranium.
- Only 50 centimes! - Shitting out my life isn't worth more.
What's wrong? Have you been crying?
They all drive me mad there.
I never asked to grow up that fast - especially not like that.
I feel old already.
I've never seen you like this.
It's not like you.
Hang on. I know a great remedy.
Manuel, two tequila slammers.
- Solange, cool it a bit. - But he's gorgeous.
Come on, relax.
I'm going to dance up there.
Now for karaoke - our first two competitors.
Elisa, Elisa, Elisa.
Throw your arms around me.
Run your slender fingers through the jungle of my hair.
Where were you? I've been looking everywhere.
- Are you ill? - No, I want to leave.
Stop it.
It's O.K. We'll take you back.
Fetch the motor.
Wait, I feel sick. Open the window.
- No, stop. Will you please stop? - Let yourself go.
- Giving you ideas? - No. Keep both hands on the wheel.
Look, it goes all by itself. Don't worry.
Hold the wheel.
- Stop it. I don't want you to. - I won't hurt you.
Tell your friend to stop.
What's the matter? She turns him on. It's normal.
That's enough. Stop.
Shut your face.
- Let her go. - You heard him. Shut your face.
We're getting out.
Where are you going?
I said no.
Let go of her.
You want one too?
I've got some condoms in my bag.
Get out.
Get lost.
Beat it.
- Do you know how to drive? - Vaguely.
Bitches.
Bastards.
It's crazy. Did you see how I got rid of them?
Where did you get that gun?
It's my inheritance.
It really is crazy.
We can't leave it outside Kevin's place.
- I'll park it. - You know how to drive?
The basics.
Parking in Paris is no problem.
- That's mine. - Give me a bit, meanie.
- Can you decipher this? - Decipher what?
The back.
- What's that? - Pipe down.
That's easy.
Hold on.
How do you find the publisher?
There are books. Wait, I'll have a look.
Here - 'Singing the Hits'.
It was spring.
Same school.
Same train, same camp.
We played between the barbed wire.
Smoke was in the air.
Smoke and fear.
Fear makes you do a lot of things.
Like change your name for nothing. Lebovitch's parents...
...called themselves Desmoulin.
They were still taken away. Desmoulin, Lebovitch...
Lebovitch, Desmoulin.
When you're a Jew, you're a Jew.
His music, he...
He signed it Lebovitch.
He didn't like Desmoulin. Maybe he hated his name being changed.
You smoke?
Three packs a day.
Nails in the coffin.
A slow death.
So what? I've already died once.
Me too.
Good, isn't it?
Lebo was elegance itself.
He cut a record and then disappeared.
Like that, in a puff of smoke.
He left. I don't know. Maybe he's dead.
He might not even know...
...his song was a hit.
Who are you?
You know him?
Know where he is?
- Does this food have a name? - Big Mac.
- Don't talk with your mouth full. - He's such a killjoy.
Are the tips of your breasts erectile?
- Erec what? - Erectile.
- What's that? - Standing up.
Mind your own business.
- Can you open the living-room door? - Why?
Just open it.
Incredible!
It's amazing.
- Amazing, isn't it? - Superb. It's beautiful, my dear.
The candles will ruin the floor.
Christmas in April!
- That's right. It's not Christmas. - Yes, it is. I decided.
Hand out the presents, Ahmed.
- Solange. - What is it?
- Open it. - Not now.
It's a video.
Don't watch it till tomorrow.
All right. Thank you.
It's an original.
It's only a fragment.
I had to be quick.
Written with his own hand! It's over 200 years old. You are...
Samuel and Celio.
A Mexican jumping bean.
Not like that. Handle with care, please.
We should call him Jesus.
Fantastic idea! Jesus, pee here. Jesus, eat there.
How about Amadeus?
Could you get some milk?
He's sweet.
- I'd like you to do me a big favour. - If I can.
I'd like you to look after Ahmed.
I never had a child.
But I'd have loved one.
Willingly my dear. Thank you.
But why? Are you going away?
Are you in trouble?
Want some?
No, thanks.
I've a present for you too.
Come and see.
Brilliant!
- It was good? - Yes.
Happy Christmas.
Can I begin?
Advice is stupid, I know but here goes.
One: Don't put all your goods on display.
Two: Don't dance too close.
If you find a nice guy, don't be too familiar. Watch your language.
Stuff like - you're loaded.
And bloody hell.
Three: Don't sleep with him right away.
You're not convinced?
Repeat after me: I won't jump straight into bed.
A man doesn't have to be a yob...
...to have appeal.
I may nag but I love you.
It's only you I love.
Maybe we'll never meet again.
But I'll always be with you in spirit.
May I go on?
Yes, go on.
You have a heart this big.
You're like a rubber doll, so watch out when they say they love you...
...even if you fancy them.
And if you do slip up, don't let it get you down, will you?
And do me a favour. If you can't hold out...
...use a condom.
Every time.
Goodbye.
You've gone.
Don't leave me all alone.
Are you paying, Lebo?
That's what money's for.
Come on, another drink all round.
To our women.
Watch out. There are two types of women.
There are the whores...
...and the whores.
I hate dogs.
Cosmic animosity.
They hate me for no reason.
It's the only stable relationship I've had in my life.
- Don't start, Lebo. - Give me a drink.
First, I drink.
And then...
And then I talk.
Another.
How's my mate?
Everything I hate.
Young, flashy, so stupid he sends you to sleep.
Pay your round, then go home. You're sloshed.
Give me that.
He's like a seagull, steals everything you've got.
Even if you've got nothing.
- He's good with women. - Unlike you.
Correct.
My balls can't stay in action more than five minutes.
I gave no pleasure but I've an excuse. I never got any.
- Pour me another. - Go home and sleep.
A word in your ear.
Playing a no-hoper takes talent.
Being an alky requires discipline.
Mediocrity isn't good enough.
You have to believe in it.
Two drinks and you're with the angels.
The sublime followed by despair. Then home to Mum and Dad.
Food in the oven and a light so you won't be scared.
Basically, you're a nice boy.
Your mother is lucky to have you.
She's getting wrinkles.
She's scared of growing old.
Her kid is her fountain of youth.
Before, she cleared up your nappies.
Now it's your sick. It keeps her young.
Listen.
Maybe if I could still do it...
...I'd get it up for her.
Who are you?
An angel?
A whore?
Ah, little tits.
I can't do it.
I swear to you, Mum, I'll kill him bit by bit.
Slowly, tenderly.
Will you lend me your bike?
She's a real pain, that kid.
What's going on?
The twit will bust my bike.
Get lost, you stupid cat.
Lebo, who is that girl?
- I don't know. - Have that finished by tonight.
It's long overdue.
You don't like my cat. I hate your dogs.
Your wife?
Are you married?
- Haven't I seen you somewhere? - In the pub. You were pickled.
Are you married?
None of your business.
- Will you give me a lift back? - When I'm done.
- What's your name? - Lebo.
No, what's your real name?
- Jacques. - Mine is Elisa.
I'm sick of pedalling. Here, take the bike. I'll go on foot.
I love you so much.
Don't stay here. You're doing yourself no favours.
Come on.
That's it, Mum.
I've got him.
What was that trick you did with the cigarette in the pub?
Will you do it for me?
You want me to do a trick for you?
We screw, you vanish.
It's a pity you're so vulgar.
What are you after?
I reek of alcohol.
I'm pickled like a cherry in brandy. No money.
As for screwing, soon only nurses will be authorized to suck me off.
Now you're exaggerating.
Take this. You'll catch cold.
And stop wiggling your arse.
Don't you like it?
It's a lovely backside.
Do you have children?
Now you're being vulgar.
Come on.
Enough bullshit.
Come and have lunch with me.
- Hurry up. - You never answer questions.
You'd better hurry. The tide's coming in.
- It's stuck again on the inside. - Lift me up and I'll climb in.
I didn't think you were the knicker-wearing type.
You're living in a time-warp.
- Anything modern in your museum? - I don't like change.
- No cutlery? - No cutlery.
I see. We eat with our hands. Back to nature.
It's disgusting here. A real pigsty. Do you ever wash?
When it rains.
Let me show you something.
Mussels are such idiots.
Heat them a bit and they open.
The young are worst.
They offer themselves first.
Why did you tell me that?
Me? No reason.
Did you paint that?
Yes.
I like shipwrecks.
Do you think they'll survive?
No.
Into the drink.
What's your real name?
- I told you it. - Not that one. What's your real name?
Let go of me.
Have you eaten? You have to eat at your age. And you need fresh air.
Are you all right?
- What's your name? - Yannik.
Good. Carry on.
- Dance? - No.
- Don't you like the Navy? - I get seasick.
- You never dance? - I'm with someone.
The pianist is your dad?
- You're always together? - Inseparable.
We do all the dance halls. And he puts up my Christmas tree.
Anything else you want to know?
- Come on, ladies, dance. - Not me. Find Guenola a partner.
Come on. Here's a sailor for you. Go and dance.
Quite the local hero!
Is she one of your lays? Do you act the bogeyman or the horny priest?
- You're a menace. - And you reek of onions.
- What are you doing here? - What do you think? Dancing.
Dance then!
- Why are you dressed up like that? - Like what?
You've had your dance. Now leave.
If you want a screw, give the pianist 500 francs.
- Are you sure? - Him over there.
- The guy over there. - Go on.
- Stay there. - Yes.
Can we talk?
- The other guy takes requests. - No, it's about the girl.
She said I should pay you.
- Pay me for what? - For a screw. There you go.
Get off me. I'm quite calm.
It was that tart over there.
Little tart, can you hear me? Got a client?
You should be ashamed of yourself.
She's gone and good riddance.
- I know she's there. - She's gone so shut up and clear off.
For twenty years I've been shutting up. At school, in the army, the police...
The boss screws your wife, you shut up. The cops nail you, you shut up.
Old bitch!
You're here?
I want to live with you.
Great idea. I'm sure our union would be a very happy one.
I'd be sat in my bubble bath while you were with your clients.
What have you got to say to that?
Go on. Have you lost your tongue?
You usually have plenty to say.
Look at you. All painted up and in high heels.
A little tart dressed up like her mother.
What you did this evening was disgusting.
Why did you do it?
Why?
Do you see? An artist doesn't create beauty.
He merely removes what is superfluous.
I'll fetch some wood.
Give up the ghost, O.K. but to whom?
Let's have a drink.
It'll warm us up.
Bottoms up.
Pass me the matches.
Watch out when it catches.
I'm tired.
Could you love me?
Maybe.
Then love me.
But I do love you.
Where are you going?
To have a pee.
Love?
Me?
Never again.
I didn't want you to know.
You don't know how much things cost.
I'm not clever. There was nothing else I could do.
If you think it was easy...
You don't know what it's like going to the store every day like a zombie.
Besides, it's so poky and ugly here. And so dirty.
I'm twenty years old. Jacques. I'm only twenty.
What difference does it make?
Yes, I've sold myself.
To buy stockings, to keep the fridge full so you'd have enough to eat.
So we could really live.
For your music.
So you could play the piano.
No, I don't want you to leave.
What will I do?
I want to die.
RETURN TO SENDER. DECEASED.
December 9th, 1979.
Elisa. Three long years. I'm writing from the lighthouse.
I was happy here as a kid. I'll never feel like that again.
I miss you. I love you.
December 16th, 1979.
I'm starting this letter again. I won't throw it out like all the others.
It's nightfall and starting to rain.
My memory is too long.
I've tried amputating it but I can't.
The soul isn't like a severed arm or leg.
I still love you.
Innocence doesn't excuse me.
To hell with the others.
December 23rd, 1979.
Do you still listen to the song?
Elisa, Elisa, Elisa...
I've had time to forget. It's stopped raining.
One day, you'll open the door and the fool outside will be me.
Elisa, embrace me that day.
Happy Christmas. I love you.
Wise guy!
Your wife?
You're married?
You have children?
Elisa, to hell with all the others.
Elisa, there's no one but us two.
You're twenty and I'm forty.
If you think that fact...
Torments me.
No, not at all, Elisa.
Elisa, Elisa, Elisa...
...throw your arms around me.
Comb my fetid locks.
Run your slender fingers...
...through the jungle of my hair.
We go back thirteen, fourteen years, we do.
To hell with all the others.
There's no one but us two. You're twenty and I'm forty.
If you think that fact...
...torments me...
No, not at all, Elisa.