La ville des silences (1979) - full transcript

It's raining in France, 1980.

The bells are tolling

all through the region.

Sunday morning, mass, pomp, cakes.

- Mr. President.
- Hello.

- Hi, Farijacque. How are you?
- Good.

Creuzeville, a nice
little town in Province,

like so many in our sweet France.
like so many in our sweet France.

Saint-Étienne Manufrance,

Sochaux Peugeot, Creusot Schneider,

Clermont-Ferrand Michelin,



Roubaix-Tourcoing Provost,

Creuzeville Mahu, a nice little town,

whose name is associated
with a unique local industry.

When industry's good, everything's good.

And they generously hand
out the crumbs of the festival

to the natives.

But when the crisis hits...

It rains in Creuzeville Mahu.

THE CITY OF SILENCES

For now, nothing is spoken.

Nothing is spoken, in silence,

behind mauve shutters,
the old sign of serfdom,

for now.

MESSAGING



Hello.

Sorry to interrupt your night,

but I'd like a room.

What? Right now?

I feel bad,

but just tell me the
number of an open room.

- Five.
- Five.

It's not up here.

Six, then.

Here's six.

I'll be fine.

The company has decided to accept the offer

to rent the territory south of our suburb,

known as the pontoon of the enchanted lake.

ELEVATORS

Gentlemen, thank you. That's all.

Always late, but...

- Hello.
- Evening.

Evening, Lestin.

Let's go.

Mr. President, please
excuse me for being late.

You know how it is...

Women are terrible,

especially when it's not yours.

Goodbye, Mr. President.

What are you doing?
You know I'm superstitious.

Excuse me.

Paul Briand, we've asked you here

in the first instance for protection.

We've all received threatening letters

like this one.

And second, for you to find the killer.

Your price is ours.

What about the police?
They're cheaper than a PI.

It's the president's seat, sir.

You must want it.

Me? No, no.

You, you're free.

We're paying for your efficiency.

You'll need to communicate
everything to us,

and keep us informed, minute by minute

of what you uncover.

Nothing can be left to chance.

Even if it's a problem for you?

You're intrigued

by the mauve shutters.

It's nothing.

It's simple.

It's one of old Mahu's whims.

Every time he bought a house

or had one built,

he had the shutters painted mauve.

It was his brand.

His color, his fingerprint.

His modern apartment didn't have shutters.

It killed him.

Hello.

Nice town, nice country,

pretty forest, pretty region, pretty girl.

Nice stride.

You're the detective the partners hired.

How do you know?

I'm a journalist.

I'm a detective,

and I didn't know you were a journalist.

I thought you were just the daughter

of vice-president Nathan Farijacque.

I know. Rich girl's
daughter, string-pulling, etc.

OK, you win.

Still, I love my job, and I do it honestly.

Very nice country.

Do you know that women, like nature,

only remain pretty if loved?

Thank you.

I'd like to rent a vehicle to get around.

Two wheels? Three? Four?

Give me two wheels,

and I'll come back another
day for the other ones.

What's it for? Fishing, hunting?

You could say that.

I recommend the grilled
andouillette with a nice white wine.

That's kind, sir, but I'm... vegetarian.

Are you from around here?

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

The maternity ward is
right by the cemetery.

My town is 300 yards wide.

I'm unemployed, technically.

Where were you working?

The Mahu factory. It's
the only game in town.

Really?

It's all there is.

Mahu and company, the
partners. All their many tentacles.

You've never left town?

To go where?

Are you kidding?

When you're born here,
and there's work, you stay.

Is there work?

There was.

- Not anymore?
- Some.

They're hiring a managing director.

MAHU AND COMPANY

It's never been a good place to live.

It's an illusion: fresh air,
countryside, the woods.

You think you're free,

but no matter where you go, Mahu is there.

You pay your rent to Mahu,
the famous mauve shutters.

Work? Ask Mahu for it.

The mayor is a Mahu man.

Who owns the countryside? Mahu.

Wherever you go, Mahu.

They're everywhere.

The local paper, Mahu and company.

Who would the murder help?

I'm tired, are you?

Evening wear required, sir.

No problem.

Here you go.

There's none left.

Careful, Mr. Briand.

If I were you,

I'd be more careful.

Wouldn't want to slip up.

Seven, red.

You know that our friend Julien Robert

received another letter.

From whom?

How should I know?

It was anonymous.

In your local paper,

Mahu's murder,

it's being covered, but not too much.

You really scared me, you know?

Do me a favor

and stop rummaging around in all this dust.

You look pale.

You need some air, my dear.

Mazette, what a house!

Don't you feel lost in here?

You know,

we all have a little secret spot.

Come on, I'll take you.

- It's a family home?
- Yes.

My parents wanted a more modern house.

I like the old stones.

Tell the person concerned
that the beds are well made.

And here?

I'm going to cut it down to size.

Isn't the decor a little austere?

So, Miss Farijacque,

you promised to tell me everything.

Don't act like you're
interested in all this.

I've been watching you
investigating rather lazily,

- so tonight...
- No,

you're wrong.

First of all, call me Julie.

You're wrong, Julie.

This affair is important to
me, and I have a feeling...

If you continue...

I sense that I'm going to make
some interesting discoveries.

THE UNIFIED SOCIALIST
PARTY A DIFFERENT LEFT

Sleep well?

Sometimes, life is warm.

You feel...

like you're full of sunlight,

and life is beautiful.

Damn thing!

You've got some sleepless nights.

CYGNE HOTEL CAFE

CEMETERY

TO JULIE

It's the village festival.

Two funerals in such a short time.

The hairdressers, the tailor,
and the dressmakers will do well.

Well, you know everyone now, I presume.

Towns out here are so small.

And rumors spread so fast.

The vice-president, Julie's father

his wife, the son, two partners,

the owner of the paper
and the legal counsel,

one of the company's founders,

the Lestin family:

dad, mom, and daughter.

And the godfather in the back.

The girl's a redhead,
and so is the godfather.

Strange, right?

The police chief,

Joe Ferzo, the casino manager,
you know him.

And a kept woman.

I liked her, Julie.

She'll rest here, near my wife.

One day, I'll join her. My place is ready.

My sincerest condolences, sir.

Thank you.

Do you have any news?

In that case, allow me to withdraw.

You understand.

I hope your investigation might proceed

with more speed.

I'll see myself out.

You're isolated here, sir.

By choice.

My investigation is advancing,

but the woman who was assisting
me met her death in her car.

She knew too much

about the real estate speculators.

The police chief says the anonymous letters

are just to scare us.

Apparently, it's been a success.

Here's the mail.

You're here, Briand?

I know, I owe you money.

We could go double-or-nothing tonight.

You could, Thomas...

Your sister...

I'm dressed up, though.

As usual.

You know, Faranger, that I
never saw eye to eye with her.

She was more of an ecological leftist.

Hypocrisy is good for your generation.

Faranger.

Ladies and gentlemen...

I have to deal with him.

His father's son, you know?

Check.

No trump.

OK.

Three, no trump.

- OK.
- OK.

Come here.

Come here.

The mauve shutters are
closed, and Bob's your uncle.

You can finally be yourself,

without pomp.

You can relax, have
fun, scream, cry, regret.

Have fun, scream, cry, regret.

You lie down, sleep,

maybe, dream, not always,
that you've struck it rich,

that you're sleeping with everyone's wives.

You have friends, and get
rid of the ones who bother you.

You're not like that.

Fed up sometimes with being nice, and good,

and honest.

I've always done my job.

I worked, slaved away, and what did I get?

My wife, worn out by it,

and me in a dead-end street,

And them.

I'm going to hit the hay.

Night.

We're in the country here, sir.

This isn't Paris.

And in a bourgeois city,

especially in bourgeois cities,

no waves.

Don't wake people.

Let them sleep in peace, and be happy.

Mahu had no family. He was an old man.

He's dead.

Friend,

I can facilitate your departure.

There's a train at 3:32 p.m.

Leave your Sol ex outside the station.

We'll take care of it.

Chief, do you mind if I don't smoke?

I came to talk.

That's good. I'm talkative.

I love talking about other people.

What goes on behind these
famous mauve shutters?

Behind an irreproachable facade?

Behind perfect morality?

Behind an anonymous face?

I like that.

We can talk before, or after?

I can do my job for
something other than money.

Not me.

- Got a light, sir?
- Sorry, I don't smoke.

You're awake.

I should have knocked louder.

I searched you, and I didn't find a gun.

I never carry one.

And the holster?

A souvenir from when I was a cop.

I'm going to drown you, sir.

Don't ask anything.

You're probably doing your job.

Yes, sir, life is harder and harder,

and unemployment insurance isn't great.

I see that you're very kind,

and I'm grateful that you haven't

asked me any indiscreet questions

about my employer.

I don't even know his name.

But if I can help you,

- don't hesitate...
- Excuse me, sir,

but it's long.

I'm not from here. I'm from Paris.

Powerful people like to have their
dirty laundry washed by strangers.

You're paid to discover
something, and I'm paid

to stop you from discovering it.

We're not so different, you and I.

We might even have the same employer.

In any case,
with what you have on your feet,

you won't get far.

You're right.

There's a gentleman,

I mean, a woman waiting in your room.

A man or a woman?

A woman.

Hurry up.

Ma'am.

Let's not waste any time.

At first I found you rather unpleasant,

but then I realized you'd been
given a job nobody wanted,

not even the police chief.

Only you can help me.

I'm convinced that my
daughter was murdered.

I have proof.

The belt of her coat had
marks of the car that threw her.

There's just one last detail.

What's your price?

A long time ago, a whore once told me,

"I can do my job for
something besides money."

I didn't think she could be right.

986, 9, 8, 6.

You've got plenty of time.

31, 9, it won't be long.

Our friend and colleague Julien Robert

will be buried without flowers or wreath,

as discreetly as can be.

I received the letter

this morning.

Dominoes again?

How to seduce a Gustave...

Mr. Briand?

Mr. Briand,

how are you?

I came to talk photography.

I brought you this.

Paul Briand, 42,

and a few pounds
heavier since I moved here.

I'm an angel bringing indispensable items:

art and the pleasure of the eyes.

And you, an authentic
Venus, your arms with fall off.

When you see...

See what, see whom?

And I don't have just one:

not two, or three, or four, but 15,

and the box, too,

to keep all these truths together.

I'd tell Mr. Lestin

that when you're with a woman like you,

you remove your hat.

I think so, too.

Pull!

I don't care much for hunting.

It all depends on the game.

And the countryside, but
the countryside is dead.

The factories are closing,

which brings unemployment,

and for now, the bigwigs,

the owners are all selling
their land to Parisians

for summer homes.

The region's turning into a resort:

empty in winter and crowded in the summer.

As for the locals,

they've got no choice but to
join the ranks of city-dwellers.

Subway, work, sleep.

Once they make their fortune,

they come back out here,
in single file, on the freeway,

for the weekend,

to catch some fresh air for
a fortune by the square foot,

and that's that.

Paul?

For a gambling debt, could
we come to an agreement?

How's that?

In exchange for some information.

Do you find it amusing
to stir up a shit storm?

You too?

People are strange. They are what they are.

Then you scratch the surface,

and the beast appears in all its splendor.

But it brings with it
some delicious moments.

That's what prevents life from
being completely monotone.

Follow me.

PLEASE RESPECT THE SLEEP OF OTHERS

QUIET, THANKS

THE UNIFIED SOCIALIST
PARTY A DIFFERENT LEFT

Julie Farijacque

was investigating real-estate speculation,

a virus that appears contagious.

That doesn't concern us.

We asked you to find out who
has been writing these letters.

It concerns you for two reasons:

as Mahu associates,

and as Julie's father...

My daughter had an accident, that's all.

Do be so kind as not
to insist on that event.

Your daughter was
murdered and you know it...

By speculators you're in business with.

You're out of line!

You are no longer in our employ!

Send us your invoice, and have a nice trip!

Too late!

You think you can buy anything,

but I've taken an interest in this case,

and I don't give up on things.

You're kidding.

What now? A whole can of worms.

I don't do politics.

As long as the town sleeps peacefully,

that's all I care about.

Hello?

All right, guys.

I had the same idea. I'm leaving town.

Nice of you to come by
to help out with my bags,

but I don't have any.

I was on my way to the station.

Thanks for the welcome committee.

We still have three
hours till the next train.

You don't know the hours too well.

Look out!

Oh my God!

They beat me up right in front of my place.

I thought, say, an invitation,

I saw the light and came in.
I saw the light and came in.

Ticket, please.

Ticket, please.

CURRENT EVENTS

Ticket, please.

You always surprise me.

You just can't seem to sleep
at night and live during the day!

Yet some folks manage it.

By the way, a man is waiting for you.

It's got to be important
for me to come out here.

Farijacque's son died in a strange way.

A witness saw you a few seconds

before with him.

Plus, you gamble,

and I have a witness for that, too.

There are always witness.

Could you shut the window? I'm cold.

You left the police force unceremoniously.

You didn't want to cover up blunders,

and you refused to carry a weapon.

You're seen as an anarchist.

In your file, it mentions.

That you had several
homosexual relationships,

and again, we have a witness.

You're the ideal culprit, my friend.

At least there's no mauve shutters here.

Our friend, Patrice Faranger,

has died.

The curse has yet
again struck at our family,

which was once so united.

Paul Briand has been arrested.

He has been found
guilty of my son's murder.

I hope that after all this bad luck,

our family will emerge from this

more closely united than ever,

and will overcome this challenge.

I also want to thank you

for the friendship you've shown me.

Tell me:

I received the last letter,

but Faranger was killed.

That doesn't add up.

Who do we trust?

Stop clicking your teeth, Paulo.

I can't hear myself think.

I can't stand it.

I'm a coward.

All I do is obey.

It's all I've ever done.

My wife makes me raise another man's child.

I don't count for anything on the board.
I'm powerless.

You're paying a steep price to know it.

For once, I'm hosting you.

I wasn't sure I could come.

The prison is far from your
place. Was it a long trip?

It's not that.

To get permission to visit...

You've lost weight.

And I think

that freedom suits you.

Oh,

I almost forgot.

Sorry, I had it wrapped,

but they had to search it.

MURDERER?

Do everything we can

to make people forget
about the idiots in the police

who are blowing this out of proportion.

We need to turn public
opinion against this guy.

Speaking of, have you
received a letter yet?

Do you have a comb?

I got you up early this morning.

Show me what you were
doing at the moment of the crime.

I've told you 40 times

that I never entered that room,

I didn't kill him, and you can go to hell.

Again?

I'll take care of you.

Don't try to cheat.

It's thanks to you my life
has had some color in it.

You did me wrong.

Yes.

Can I ask why?

I'm a mop, a rag,

a product.

I'm used even when I'm not being used.

I'm a rag, used to being submissive.

I've been conditioned. Sorry.

And him?

A puppet. A weather vane.

Nothing in his pants.

He seems to have mistresses,

to be a businessman,

a father.

If I paid you more than the
others, could you put me up?

No. I'm the one I'm wary of.

I'd like to.

No, but you understand. If a guy comes here

with an envelope full of cash,

that's it.

Haven't you noticed that
even my underwear is mauve?

Chief Etienne Wheeler.

My deputies, Clamart and Martin.

No time to waste, Chief.

What a job.

I sit on my ass

and hand my case off to my boss,

and I'm good to go.

Don't come here. It's too
dangerous for me. Do you realize?

I get it. You think

I've got nothing to lose.
I'm old, alone, no family.

But I'm scared.

I'm so scared.

I can put you up for a few hours,

that's it. Then find someplace else.

I'm begging you.

The letters: it was you?

Yeah.

I wrote the letters.

I'll admit it, because they were anonymous.

They were well done. I was proud.

I'm a nobody, always hidden in the crowd.

I'm guilty

of having adhered to the policy
of the group through my silence.

And like any other local here,

I lost all freedom of choice,
all power of decision-making.

I'm an obedient crumb,

a little piece of fascism.

So?

Still busy as ever?

It's been a while.

You're here to sniff out the wine.

I'm in a spot of trouble.

The arrival of the man
from Paris has me worried.

If he sticks his nose into
Farijacque's business,

things could go south for me.

So,

I'm taking some precautions.

Whoever you are, get out!

Coward!

Show yourself!

There's a ghost!

PRIVATE DETECTIVE... OR MURDERER?

You're going to need it,
because it's time for the kill.

This series of murders is ridiculous.

We just have to be patient.
If only one is left, it's the killer.

I see. The killer could
be Nathan Farijacque,

François Lestin, or a stranger.

Perhaps you, yourself.

But you're my alibi.

I spend the night at your
place, sleeping like a baby.

You could very well have
left without my realizing it.

Same goes for you.

He's gone hunting.

Man-hunting?

No, of course not. Woman-hunting.

Leave me alone.

You've decided to act.

Might you be the killer?

I need you to do two things.

First, find the detective.

Second,
exercise your force of dissuasion upon him.

You know very well

that I'm always on the
side of the powerful.

And right now, I'm troubled.

I no longer know who that is.

I'm still in charge, it seems to me.

We've stopped receiving
the anonymous letters,

I've taken control of
the company's business,

and I have no intention
of getting myself killed.

That's what you say.

I have one last request.

Mr. Fugard is becoming a problem.

He's changing camps,

and when the rats jump
overboard, I eliminate them.

You're asking quite a lot,

Mr. Farijacque.

Fugard is an old friend,

don't forget.

Plus,

he's chief of police.

Lestin,

it's me, Briand.

You know I'm not armed.

Stop acting like a kid.

Can I?

My father left me his business.

The group manages them.

My wife got knocked up by a...

I miss my mistress.

I can't stand myself.

I'm not cut out to kill myself,

but I'm incapable of killing someone.

That's not so bad, man.

Show some manners, Muriel.

Manners?

In a few days, I lost my
beloved daughter and my son,

and you want manners?

Your beloved daughter was a leftist.

As for your son, he was a
notorious queer, a swine.

Your daughter found out
that her father was a crook

who'd do anything for money.

Be quiet.

Be quiet, lie.

Live in silence and lies.

You're impossible.

Your aristocracy, your propriety,

all that suffocates me.

I can't bear it.

You hide behind your reputation.

You hide.

And you sell your soul
to the highest bidder.

You're just a two-bit businessman, a crook.

You're not even a bandit.

You're just a loser.

I hate you, Nathan.

Your daughter was too good
for you. She made up for you.

Yes, she was a leftist,

but she was honest.

She was enamored with justice and loyalty,

words whose meanings you've forgotten.

You're nothing but a lord of shit.

It's a manure pit.

If you want to know everything,
come see Julie Farijacque.

We'll make the pilgrimage together.

The more I look into this
case, the more it stinks.

It's a nice little town,

so quiet behind its mauve shutters.

I'm sick of this shit!

Sick of these bastards lying in wait!

I'll stir up this shit!

And when people do start
talking, the sewers overflow.

Hello, Mr. Farijacque.

You're a murderer.
I'm going to teach you a history lesson.

History that, unfortunately,
isn't taught in public schools.

The Versaillais, good French
folks, sold arms to the Prussians.

So that they could fire on
the communards, also French.

The Versaillais called
themselves nationalists.

France is currently the
number-three arms-maker in the world.

France sells, and sells, and sells,

and doesn't worry about whom
the bullets are destined for.

Perhaps the children of the arms-dealers.

You, Farijacque, are a
member of that vile race.

You had your daughter killed.

Because she'd uncovered
your real-estate deals.

You had your son killed
because he talked too much.

One was on the left,
the other on the right.

You're right in the center, in the swamp,

and you're as happy as a clam.

You're not a careful man.

I'm sure you aren't even armed.

You are...

How can I say this without offending

your sensitive sense of honor?

A vigilante? Is that it?

You killed your partners.

Because they were selling off
your lands, your past, your heart.

My dear, if I may say so,

your insanity was anachronistic.

And your spasm of an old, lone boar.

And your spasm of an
old, lone boar was in vain.

The world is nothing but a
roulette ball in multinational casinos,

and if you allow me,

your fanatical nationalism,

your aristocratic ecology,

is awfully small fry.

The earth belongs to men,

to all men equally.

It is not the privilege of an elite.

It's the work, the sweat, the labor,

the love that makes the country,

not coats of arms and heritage.

You miscalculated.

You needn't have made
yourself a vigilante of nobility.

You needed to be Cartouche,
Mandrin, Alexis Jacob.

You needed to recover the
land from the nouveau riche and

return it to the people. That
would have been a just war.

All that's left for you now, if
we follow your nihilistic logic,

is to destroy Creuzeville.

And I won't follow you.

A cripple.

A local guy.

What could be sadder?

Well...

Orders are orders.

Open the shutters!

Silence this silence!

Stop hiding!

Shout out! Wake up!

Revolt!

Fight!

Defend yourselves!

You are in danger!

Your children are in danger!

Your town is dying!

Tomorrow, you'll be ripped off,

beaten down, cuckolded,

beaten down, cuckolded, or dead!

There's still time!

Throw open your shutters!

Break the silence!

One-way.

Police?

When the world dies, sinks down,

when, every day, millions
of innocent people die,

ideologies, principles...

The murderer

is you,

it's me, it's us,

that every day make...

tomorrow.

It's tough to be an outsider.

Now, I'll write up my report,

like a good civil servant.

FOR JEAN-LOUIS BORY

Adam Lozier Subtitling: Hiventy