The King of Paris (1995) - full transcript

THE KING OF PARIS

Derval, a word.

As a long-standing member
of the Société des Auteurs,

I think it's scandalous
to stop a successful play.

Your plays stop by themselves.

Coste, what a face!

The face of a man
who, over 217 performances,

has seen his work deliberately
twisted, mutilated,

a victim of every variation
and whim.

Don't exaggerate!

I added the music,
I'm your Stradivarius.



The bridge scene
was completely absurd.

I tried to reduce it,
it was too long.

- Try it next time.
- There'll be no next time.

I'll see you at dinner.

Dear friends and colleagues,

this is the last one.

Here we go.

Once again,
we are once more orphans,

deprived of the great lines
a young writer

had given us.

You see,
he's being nice to you.

I would like to express
my gratitude.

First Betty,
who has incarnated grace and youth

for a quarter of a century.



And Champmartin,
by holding back so well,

you make your memory lapses
look good.

And Raymonde,
the humble, the lowly,

you will put our costumes
away in the basket.

But you'll bring them out again,

for some more magic.

I'm not out of a job yet.

A drink to you,
and those dear to you.

Remember the bone
for my little girl.

As always.

You know what?

Don't laugh.

I'd like to come back
to your place.

Darling, we've had
some great times.

Such lust.

I haven't forgotten.

But it would be a shame
to ruin those memories

by repeating it.

OK.
I know the speech. Curtain.

It's a damp squib.

French cuisine should be treated
with more respect.

Ladies and gentlemen,
please welcome

France.

Minister, sir, you came.

The Republic pays homage
to the King of Paris.

Where would we be
without Victor Derval?

Sorry I'm late,
there was a debate.

The President told me yesterday
your cross is on its way.

If you think an entertainer
such as me is worthy.

And to think that some
grumpy monarchists

consider you sectarian.
Did you hear, Marquis?

- Castellac.
- The last of a breed.

He survived the guillotine.
Thank you.

Thank you.

Bravo!

Ladies and gentlemen.

Please excuse the interruption.

I didn't see your play,
but I hear it was a success.

It caused laughter, tears
and discussion.

But what's happening?

I see nothing but a white stage.

Your theatre has disappeared
between the words.

Your old idols
have fallen into an ambush.

Drab words abolished.

The obscenity of feelings abolished.

The language police executed.

Watch emerge from the earth

the sublime organic disorder.

Hear the sighs, the growls,

the yapping of a new art.

There's a new writer
for the great man.

Mr Derval.

Yes?

Excuse me.

This may not be
the right time, but...

I wanted to say
how much I admire you.

- I saw La Spirale 7 times.
- Ah!

It's a good play.

Yes, but you're the person
who brings it to life.

Thank you.

What are you doing here
at this time of night?

I know your routine.

After the show, the restaurant.

Then, the cabaret.

And then you usually walk home.

You've been tailing me.

This is the last time, so I thought:
"It's now or never."

When you see a play 7 times,
there are no surprises.

You know what's coming.

Not with you.

Tonight, for example.

The bridge scene.

It seemed shorter.

Like you wanted to finish it.

Ah! You noticed that?

I could be wrong.

You don't see much
from the 3rd balcony.

You should have come
to see me before.

I could have given you a box
for your fidelity.

Goodnight, miss.

Wait!

I want to tell you
how much I owe you.

I saw you perform once,
in my country.

And I understood
what it meant to be an actor.

I was 15, and my love of theatre
started there.

You're an actress.

You were France,

Paris.

It was the centre of the world.

You still think that?

I have to.

It's a lovely story, miss. Ah!

The miracles of Paris.

Here.

I'd like a large bouquet

for the girl selling matches.

Here you are.

Here.

You're very pretty.

I hope you're loved.

Take my card
and go to the Joinville studio.

They should find you work.

It might help.

Thank you.

My name is Lisa.

That's not the one he has.

The English stuff is gone.

He can have marmalade.

It's all the same anyway.

Roll on Sunday!

- Sir is already up?
- I'll take it.

- But sir...
- I can do it.

Oh! It's heavy.

- Well?
- Sacha wants you to call.

Ah, Sacha! I read the brochure.

If he thinks I'll play the role

of a cuckold
who isn't even in the 2nd act,

he's wrong.

Oh, dear Grognard!
I feel all over the place today.

I'm not on stage tonight.

I feel like an abyss
is opening in front of me.

You wouldn't understand.

- Meet me in my room.
- I'll look at the mail.

Wake up!

Oh! You don't look
so great this morning.

Performing in public
is exhausting, isn't it?

It's a profession, you know.

Was I a flop?

You might as well go all the way.

What should I have done, then?

- Sat down and ordered oysters?
- Wrong time of year.

You know, Paul.

I read your article on circus freaks.

Ah!

The style is good.

- But...
- Yes?

Can I be honest?

You can try.

You could say things
in a more simple way.

I don't understand
your revolutionary poetry,

all those mixed-up words.

- Too ignorant, no doubt.
- Never mind.

If you were less obscure,
I've a friend at the Petit Parisien,

I could introduce you.
- No, thanks.

You'd travel.

Reporting on the airmail service
would be fun.

I said no!

Fine.

You don't want to make use
of my contacts.

I need money.

- Again!
- Yes.

Always.

It's funny how you're
less generous at home.

You get fed and housed...

Fathers are responsible
for their children.

Even you.

Sons have duties too.

To themselves at least.

Dad.

I wanted to say...

What?

I'm sorry about last night.

The dinner jacket suited you.

Get dressed.

Set B, filming in 10 minutes.

We're not questioning your talent.
The sound wasn't good enough.

- I spoke too quietly?
- It's the equipment.

Derval does not repeat a scene.

I won't say
your mediocre lines again.

I won't be hostage
to your machinery.

Teach the machine to speak,

or put up with these
crude pantomimes.

Idiots!

They're savages, Victor.

Talking cinema will never work.

With all your money,
you don't need to do this.

Oh, be quiet!

I'm just telling you.

I'm thinking of your audience.

- Go and get me a Cognac.
- Yes, yes.

Clef de sol, what a title!

Extras, that's all for today.

Move over!

Hello.

What do you want?

- Don't you recognise me?
- No!

Ah, yes! Yes.
The little girl selling matches.

- Mr Derval.
- Talk to me tomorrow.

That's it for today.

Are you still there?
Still hanging around!

I don't want to bother you.

I know. You're all alone
in the city,

you don't know anyone,
you want to get into theatre,

but not via the casting couch.

I've heard it all before.

I'll help you one more time.

But that's it. Here!

You're horrible, Derval.

Pardon?

I hate people
who humiliate others.

You're badly brought up.

You have to be able
to leave the role.

Your music teacher is ridiculous!

Who was that?

Victor, I've got your contract...

- Stop her, quickly!
- Who?

The girl who just left!

You were in a white suit
and you said:

"A woman's bed is a battle field!"

An excellent line.

Mr Derval,
there are some people who...

I don't just come here
for your beef.

It's because I'm left in peace.

It's funny,
I didn't have a vocation.

My parents were of modest means.
I could have ended up a shopkeeper.

What saved me
was my fear of boredom.

One day, I went off
with a group of actors.

I could have worked
in the markets.

- It's chance.
- No such thing.

It was wretched.

I didn't have the looks
for a leading man.

I played spear carriers,
servants, old men,

chaperones.

Then there was the war.

And it all stopped.

No. It all started
when performing for the troops.

One night, I was playing a soldier
who'd missed his train.

And I heard them laugh.

It's great to get laughs from
people who may die the next day.

Then there was vaudeville,
comedy.

And now I'm plunged
into Mr Coste's deadly world.

You never thought
of doing repertory roles?

No. I do what I can do.

Sometimes, I dream
the auditorium is empty

and wake up in a sweat.

And you really want to do theatre?

Goodbye.

Will I see you again?

I won't ask you in...

No. Don't ask me.

PRINTING
PAINTING - GLAZING

You pose?

I have to earn my living.

Do these artists respect you?

Sorry.

It's late.

I'll go.

You know...

I very much enjoyed our evening.

Cut!

- Places, everyone.
- See you later.

Look at the state of you!

That was quite a storm.

What are you doing
in enemy territory?

Yes, I know!

The monstrous invention
that is talking pictures.

What can I do?
They're taking over.

Maybe your lovely theatre
will be transformed into a cinema

and you can sell
chocolates in the interval.

- Thanks. Have your read Comedia?
- No.

Coste wants to break his contract.

The heathen!

He has to give us his next play.

He's gone to
the Société des Auteurs.

Let him go to hell!

Let him go back to his lab.

Imbecile!

His constipated public.

He was seen having lunch
yesterday with Harry Borre.

How dare he?

Judas!

Who are you hiding?

I'm protecting us.

I want to have you near me.

Near you?

You can help me live.

Some opportunities
are not to be missed.

It's fate.

Isn't this going a bit fast?

My house is taking on water.

I need someone like you,

to put it in order.

Order?

What do you mean?

Let me explain.

I'm not looking for a secretary,

but someone in the house
who protects me,

helps me deal with my obsessions.

Exactly.

That's what a secretary does.

No, not at all.

It's more than that.

A colleague.

We'll work together.
You can help me with my lines.

I trust you to bring
a fresh approach to what I do.

The theatre, Lisa.

You'll be at the heart of things.

Close to an actor.

You're not saying anything.

Have I offended you?

No. It's kind of you.

Say yes, then.

If I accept this job,

nothing more will happen between us.
I want you to know that.

You'll deal with the invitations.

Mr Derval won't go unless
he's the centre of attraction.

He's very demanding.

Forgive me,
but you're not French.

When writing letters...

I'll ask you to check
my imperfect subjunctives.

Careful there!
It's this way.

Careful!

Don't slacken!

Put it in the bedroom
on the first floor.

What are you doing
in this mausoleum?

Is that loaded?

Don't worry, it's a prop.

Everything here is a prop.

- Tell me.
- Yes?

Is this the scenery
from La Spirale?

Salvage.

Derval loves performing.

So he keeps it all.

And what's your role?

Has no-one told you?

You get a salary.

Yes.

Are you worried
about your pocket money?

Why are you looking at me?

It could be worse.
A frustrated old maid.

With grey hair.

May I come through?

- Going upstairs?
- Yes.

Me too.
Do you like your room?

Isn't it gloomy?
It faces north.

Ask for a radiator for winter.

If I'm still here.

You're up early.

Good morning, miss.

Good morning, Mr Derval.

I see you've met.

That's good.

- Your bath is ready, sir.
- Coming.

The house seems all sunny,
don't you think?

Sending an official letter,
to me, Derval,

to cancel our agreement!

And such jargon, Coste!

It's unworthy of your talent!

Have I told you
how much I owe you?

No, you've told me
how much I owe to you!

It's the same thing.
We're arguing like an old couple!

- Here's my offer.
- What?

You'll become humble,
and say the lines I give you?

I'm offering you
long-term security.

You're responsible for your father
as I am for my son.

Very moving.

You'd deny your father
a golden old age?

Come on!

Let's rip up
this rubbish agreement.

- I haven't agreed.
- Come on!

I'm being nice to you.

And I'm being careful!

Read the new contract.

Miss! This is my secretary.

The contract, please.

Contract, contract!

Right, read it!

Ah! You went straight
to the royalties.

15%! Gosh.
There must be a mistake.

- What does Pastorini say?
- He's furious.

I made him fork out.
The cheque.

No. For Mr Coste.

That's what he diddled you out of
for La Spirale.

Oh, yes! Oh, yes!

He's nothing without us.
We have to stick together.

You haven't read my new play.

I trust you implicitly.

Well, all the same.
What's the title?

I was thinking of...

The Lost Girl.

Brilliant!

You asked for it.

How much longer must we listen
to this Negro music?

- Until you get to like it.
- Miss, you have work to do.

His heart's in the right place.

Don't forget the signed photos.

Do you sign Derval's photos?

- Yes.
- You'll have the chequebook next.

I must be off.

I don't want to lose my job.

Yes, we don't want you
getting sacked.

Hold on.

You should read something
other than invitations.

Have you read this?

No.

I'll lend it to you.

But be careful, miss.
Danger!

It's quite some book.

I'm not scared.

No, no. I'm just passing.
As usual.

Put it in the car, Émile.

Hello, miss.
Are you the secretary?

Yes. Hello, madam.

Ravishing.

Tell Mr Derval
I've emptied my wardrobe.

When you get presents,
why leave them behind?

My astrakhan!
Throw it away. It's moth-ridden.

And good luck.

The rillettes are great!

My sister sends them,
from Sarthe.

- Glass of red, Marquis?
- Yes.

Good colour.

I don't trust that girl.

She hangs around him.

It's their age.

Who do you mean?

Mr Paul and...

Paul, Paul.

That's him all right.

Good evening.

Ah! Has Paul given you
some bedtime reading?

I never got beyond page 10.

Poetry means rhymes to you.

Are you happy here?

- I thought I'd made things clear.
- Yes, you had.

But what can I do?

I don't believe in resolutions.

They never last.

It's alarming.

When you have no morals,

you still have desires.

But no feelings.

It doesn't matter.

It's not our fault you're beautiful

and I'm no longer young.

You can stay.

I've made you eggs
in red-wine sauce.

You like those.

Tuck in, tuck in.

Ah! Confound it!

I'd forgotten I promised

to attend an annual meeting
tonight.

Sorry, children.
You'll be fine without me.

There!

Victor Derval has just given us
one of his hackneyed performances.

- What do you mean?
- He has no meeting.

He wanted to leave us alone.

Like an old madam.

You talk as if you hate him.

Talk, talk, talk.

He gawks at her like an idiot.

It's better than going out
and getting drunk.

He's telling her about his childhood.
Poor boy!

He doesn't deserve sympathy.

Know what he called me?

A youthful mistake.

He never loved your mother?

He's never loved anyone.

He'd turn up once a year.

He sent money,
useless presents at Christmas.

He was a stranger to me.

A famous stranger.

He's still a stranger to me.

I could kill him sometimes.
And then I look at him.

And I want to applaud.

What if you decided
not to be unhappy?

I'm not unhappy.

Who are you, Lisa?

What did you do
before you arrived here,

dressed as a well-behaved lady?

And why are you here?

Don't tell me
you enjoy doing the filing.

You want to get into theatre.
Yes?

- I am ambitious.
- You're sleeping with my father.

Thank you.

I believe you.

"By locking me up alone here,
did you think you'd steal..."

- It's not steal, it's...?
- Take away.

I haven't done this thing for years.

I should never have agreed
to go to Cabourg.

Let's do it again.

She waves the key at him.

"By locking me up alone here,

"did you think you'd take away
Crébillon's pen?

"Look at this place.

"It evokes the hunt.
The woman is the prey.

"Whatever happens..."

Now you read her lines.

"But when a man
is caught in the net,

"the woman is Diana
and catches him.

"Playing with her prey,

"she has her own weapons.

"Veiled confessions,
smiles, tears."

You've learnt it by heart.

And you're playing the role.

No. Don't answer.

Leave it.

It's my job to answer it.

Yes.

- Hello?
- Victor, your kid is drinking.

Champagne for my friends.

Impostor! The owner
of this place is an impostor.

You swine!

You bastard!

You devil!

- Where's Paul?
- Over there.

With a bunch of losers.

I'm not helping,
he called me an arse.

I'm tired of it.

I'll get you! You pig!

Paul!

Get off me!

Who's she?

I've come to get you.

Quiet!

You're not cross?

You're an angel.

You're an angel.

- Not too heavy, is he?
- No. No.

Thank you. I couldn't go...

I know you couldn't go in.

He looks happy with you.

Peaceful.

It's lovely.

It is lovely!

There's one thing
I don't understand.

This craze for sea bathing.

As if it's a cure
for the troubled of mind.

I'm going swimming.

Coming?

- No.
- No. He's like me.

He's a night bird.

Ah! Antinéa
emerges from the sands.

- Hello, Victor.
- Hello, Betty.

Do you know Felix Roquépine?

He has a column in the Saison.

Delighted. I'm looking forward
to your performance tonight.

You're very kind.

My son Paul, miss Lisa.

Mr Roquépine.

Lovely couple.
Are they engaged?

"Engaged."
What a detestable bourgeois word!

My son is a Bolshevik.

It happens to the best of families.

It's touching
the way you look at that girl.

You like her.

She might not be free.

She's all alone.

We're all she has.

Why don't you marry her?

She would stop you from
wasting your nights partying.

What are you scared of?

Being happy?

I'll take a photo.

Put your hat on.

You look great like that.

I agree.

It's freezing, it's great!

Both of you.

Read this rubbish.

I don't have my glasses.

"Victor Derval was a triumph
last night at the Cabourg casino.

"An impromptu performance
matched by Betty Favart."

So far so good.

"But the actor has also been seen

"closely chaperoning
a couple composed of his son,

"a hack who aspires to obscurity,

"and a foreign-sounding
young lady.

"There's talk of a wedding.

"But will the father
or the son be the groom?"

Yes. Quite.

Why are you looking at me
like that?

There's nothing going on.

I'll smash his face in.

I forbid you.
No violence.

I'll handle it.

I'll run him through.

The article had been shortened.
I don't know.

Well? All ready?

Gentlemen,

we'll stop at the first blood.

Get ready.

Ah!

I've been hit. I've been hit.

Ah, I've been hit!

Thank you.

- Blood has flowed.
- Good!

It's a farce.
Against all the rules!

Poor Roquépine.

He fences as well as he writes,
the coward.

Now we're equal.

You're doing your job.

But perhaps
you could publish a correction,

tomorrow morning.

Now, how about having

an English breakfast?

With fried eggs.

No? Grilled sausages.

Lovely rashers of bacon.

No, no.
I can see that's not on.

Let's go!

Why leave Cabourg
in such a rush?

Is it because of the article?

- Ah! You've seen it?
- Yes.

What did you think?

Nothing. I'm not bothered.

It's a rag.

- Did you decide to leave?
- Yes.

No.

Yes and no.

He lent you the car.

No. I stole it, and you.

Look at the road.

Or we won't get very far.

And no-one will know
why you kidnapped me.

Why have you kidnapped me?

Here.

Come on!

Open up! Help!

Open up for some poor travellers.

Oh, no!
Not behind the bar.

Go on!

Madam.

The army!

What's left of it.

Know what we call the army
in France?

What?

Know what we call the army
in France?

- No.
- The silent army!

Your room is this way.

Here.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

I got the wrong room.

There's a naked man
on the bed.

- Lisa.
- We mustn't.

We must never lie to each other.

Lisa.

He's been going for 2 hours.

Do you think they'll ask us?

Do they come looking
in your oven?

What's the new play about?

People sleeping around.

In Act II, there's this sex scene.

I'd cut it.

"Jean is alone,
he looks around him

"with a snigger.

"He picks up his suitcase
and leaves

"as the curtain slowly descends.
The end."

It's not bad at all.

It's harsh, very dark.

It's really great.

But there is one thing.

Oh?

The dressing gown, do I have
to wear it for a whole act?

The woman is distraught.

She neglects her appearance.

- What about the dress from Act I?
- Yes, given the cost.

We should use that dress.

Right.

Castellac?

I'll go with you, Victor.

How shall I put it?

You're like a pyrotechnician

who sets up a time bomb

which we anticipate
for three acts

and at the end, nothing.

Nothing explodes.

You give us a successful man,
I've done that role.

But never mind.

A man who achieves things.

And then his life goes wrong.

His wife cheats on him,

his son is a bastard,
his colleagues try to blame him

for an anaesthetic incident.
All that is good.

It's vicious. But...

But this man carries a secret.

Exactly.

This lost girl, the child
he has never recognised,

why don't you show her?

She's lost, yes.

Is she lost backstage?

I wanted to make her absence
a dramatic element.

Oh, Coste!

It's very abstract.

I want to see the face of this girl

who I've been hearing about
for 3 acts.

I want to see her.

Don't make that face, Pastorini.

We're rambling.

Am I not right?

You have put your finger on it...

I don't agree.
The relationship is with his wife.

And you'll make her howl
like a wolf.

Think carefully, Derval.

Here he goes.

It's incredible how you always think
you're persecuted.

- I bring you something new...
- New?

It's L'Arlésienne,

only without Daudet's talent.

- I hate you!
- I feel sorry for you, Coste.

- You're just a...
- Show-off!

And what are you?

- Friends, friends.
- A scribbler?

Good riddance to him!

There are other writers...

- Farewell!
- Goodbye, Mr Coste.

Wait.

- What do you want?
- To give you this.

It's pouring down.

What just happened
counts for nothing.

No. It's over.

- Did he send you?
- Certainly not.

I said nothing about your play.

Your opinion
is of no interest to me.

I'll give it to you anyway.

You touched me.

It contains the best scenes
you've ever written.

It's like reading your private diary.

It could be a wonderful play.

What do you know of the theatre?

I love it.

Thank you, miss.

Goodbye, Mr Coste.

Lisa.

What did you say
to Shakespeare?

The reading didn't go well.

Let them work it out.

- Finished your article?
- You come to me tonight.

I'm tired of crossing the hall.

- So am I.
- I looked at an apartment.

- What?
- It's expensive.

I don't want to ask Derval.

What about your garret?

- You couldn't live there.
- Lisa, help!

It's unbearable,
all those old men are against me.

It's time for youth to be heard.

Well done, Coste.

Your pen flew like a magic wand.

You've unleashed your emotions

as a diviner would a wellspring.

- Thank you.
- Ah!

The scene in the gin joint
in Act III.

Audacious!

That'll really show them.
And the girl.

What a character!

You see? I was right.

Bringing her to life
changes everything.

Of course.

It changes everything.

Now, to make the lost girl
credible,

we need a totally new face.

The lamp, there.

Not too high.
Yesterday...

That was yesterday.
There, I tell you.

I wrote "a blue light".

Sorry but I see it as red, Coste.

We're using your words
down to the syllable.

So let it go, will you?

On we go.
Are you Jacqueline?

Perhaps. And you're a man
who turns up late. They're closing.

Don't bars like this
stay open till dawn?

The curtain has to fall sometime.

We're allowed a few hours
of fresh air, of purity.

But you wouldn't know about purity.

Do it the other way round.

She starts off talking to herself,
then comes back to me.

Again.

We're allowed a few hours
of fresh air, of purity.

Back to me.

But you wouldn't know about purity.

He's fixated with her.

He didn't spend an hour
on my part.

Have some humility, young man.

In the theatre,
the woman is queen.

Otherwise join the cabaret,

with the homos.

She's not half bad.

Yes, with a little padding.

If she wants to play
bar-room hookers,

she'll need to...

She's deceptively thin.

Jacqueline is my pseudonym.

Did you think
I'd sully my real one?

You're laying it on too thick.

The feeling's all wrong.

Forget you know the end.

It's like she already knows
he's her father.

I know it, so does the audience.
You don't.

Think of the situation.

For now,

he's some guy
asking her weird questions.

A punter
looking for a shoulder to cry on.

Try it again.

Jacqueline is my pseudonym.

- Did you think I'd...
- No! You're not listening.

- Not if you shout.
- I'm not shouting.

I'm shouting without shouting.
It's natural.

It's a way of talking.

I'm tired, I can't go on.

We'll come back to it tomorrow.
It's a difficult scene.

- I might cut it down.
- No. She can do it.

You have to.

If you don't nail it now,
you'll lose it.

A character is like a person.

You can't leave it
when it's in danger.

Come on!

Off you go!

Jacqueline is my pseudonym.

Did you think
I'd sully my real one?

I'd have liked to invent one
just for me.

Please, enough.

I can see through your little game.

You're just a lowlife
who fakes his emotions.

And with a clear conscience too!

I can't be your lover, Jacqueline.

Yes. That's good.

Right, that'll do for today.

Same time tomorrow.

Lift!

Where the hell are they?

You know how women are.
They take forever to get ready.

She forgets her perfume,
loses her gloves.

The man's stamping his feet.

They're a couple.

A couple?

So why don't they
announce the wedding?

Apparently for young people,

what was once a sacrament
is now a passion killer.

Are you even sure
it's what you want?

You talk as if
you already had your medal.

- That hurt!
- You deserved it.

Rosette or salami,
it's all the same.

Reception, drinks,
France on a plate.

Enough to make you sick.

- So you won't go?
- No.

And neither will you.

I don't want you
fraternising with those pigs.

Nor will you perform
any of their circus tricks.

I won't let you appear
in that pornographic filth.

- It opens in a week.
- Then give up the role.

That's out of the question.

Can't you see
those people will kill you?

Kill us?

They're our enemies.

This part
is a unique opportunity for me.

I can't let it pass me by.

You mean
you went all out to get it.

Yes. You slept with the old man.

No.

- I'm not looking for a saint.
- What, then?

You don't know what you want.

I want loyalty.

Why do you hurt me, Lisa?

I wouldn't hurt you, Paul,
if you'd only understand.

I'll be your friend, your ally,
your wife if you want.

But don't ask me
to give up the theatre.

I can't.

I want you to come.

I'm asking you to.

Ah!

Finally.

Give me that.

You look lovely.

- Paul's not coming.
- Let's go!

To honour in you
the impeccable artist

and flamboyant figure appearing
from behind the scarlet curtain

into the dazzling footlights,

Victor Derval, in the name
of the President of the Republic,

I name you Officer
of the Legion of Honour.

Let me pass,
I'm Mr Derval's son.

Minister, ladies and gentlemen,

my dear friends, this honour
that you are bestowing on me

was unimaginable to me
in my youth,

when the only honour I knew
was the dunce's cap

which the teachers placed
on my idiotic head.

Indeed, the theatre,
or should I say the stage,

was my only source of education.

Moreover, it is not in my name

that I receive this honour,

but in the name of you all;

for as much as France,
where I was born,

you, the audience,
are my country.

Good evening, Paul.

You must be very moved.

And you, Coste,
are you taking notes?

For a future play, perhaps?

The other side of the medal...

I don't blame you for mocking it.

I was lucky enough
to have mediocre parents.

It can't be easy
being the son of Victor Derval.

Yes, I confess.

I dream of exchanging the ship
of state for the chariot of Thespis.

Ever since that vehicle
rattled along the roads of Attica,

the actor's art has amused us,
moved us...

Excuse me, Minister.

and held up a mirror
in which to see ourselves.

- Sorry.
- Bravo again, Mr Derval.

Excuse me.

What...

I'm coming with you.
We have so little time together.

I want to touch you,
I want to caress you.

What's going on?

I was waiting for you.

Some milk?

No, thanks.

It sobers you up.

Paul.

It's time to go to bed.

To bed?

With whom?

I really think
you should go to bed.

One moment, maestro.

A word of advice.

So...

I've an idea for a play.

A time-honoured tale.

A silly young man.

A girl who is poor and dishonest.

A father with a ruddy complexion,

unencumbered by scruples.
The perfect trio.

The scene is set.

But what about the end?

How would it play out for you, Dad?

There'd be a gun.

Paul, that's enough.
Put it down!

Don't worry, it's a prop.

- Paul, no!
- You're both dead.

No!

Is that you?

I'm scared.

You were right
not to come to the cemetery.

It was unbearable.

- What did they say?
- Nothing.

They don't know.

And if anyone talks,

I'll crush them.

What will happen to us now?

There's nothing left.

- Nothing left to...
- Be quiet!

- We did it.
- No.

No.

He was just a poor kid.

I never understood him.

I never saw who he was.

That's all.

But he'd no right to do that.

Now it's just the two of us, Lisa.

We'll leave Paris.

The theatre's over.

The theatre?

I just cancelled the play.

He cursed us.

I'm dirty!

I can't do it any more!

But we're alive!

Alive!

Yes.

It's horrible.

Lisa.

Lisa?

She's gone, sir.

Gone?

Gone where?

I don't know, sir.

I don't know.

Lisa, I need you.

Reply to me, please.

Lisa, believe me.
I'm no longer the man I was.

The man who confused theatre
and real life.

I lost Paul because
I didn't know how to love him.

But in my terrible solitude,

I reject with all my strength
the idea of losing you too.

You, Lisa,
who taught me how to love.

Listen to me.

Lisa, listen to me.

I can no longer live without you,

far from you,

apart from you.

We can go onstage tonight or not,
just as you wish.

But I beg you, come back.

We can only recover together.

Are you religious?

No.

But I feel at home here.

I'll be brutal.

You've suffered a tragic loss.
But you didn't love that boy.

- I forbid you from saying...
- Wait.

He was a nice enough chap,
but he was a failure.

I don't say that
because he hated my work.

You're not guilty in this case.

Sometimes fate intervenes
where events are pre-ordained.

Whatever the role,

it always ends badly.

That's a writer talking.

Yes.

A writer
who wants his plays performed.

And by you.

You're my lost girl.

I wrote the play for you.

Don't you understand?

Not for anyone else.

If you won't do it,
I'll withdraw the play.

I won't do it with him.
I can't look him in the face.

It won't be him.
It'll be the greatest actor in Paris.

A monster perhaps,
but all you need do

is speak my lines.
- Why me?

You're intelligent, you're beautiful.

You're an actress.

You're always asking for money.

It's not a question of money,
but of principle.

I've never seen
such a packed house. Shall we?

- They all came.
- Grief attracts them.

To think we nearly didn't go on!

I'm nervous.

I'll wait in the dressing room,
I don't want to see this.

Nothing but ugly faces

with aristocratic names.

I'm quite confident.

I left the keys
on the bedside table.

- There's no point.
- Why?

The house will be empty
from now on.

So you accepted the case?

- You're going to court?
- I'll never go to court again.

What?

Ah! I waited
till everything was clear,

with cruel perfection.

I made you some eggnog.

But first you must cast off
all this love.

Very good.

Are you listening?

I'm really nervous.

I thought I could love you,
weak as I am.

But when I realised Jean...

She looks fragile.

I hope you know what you're doing.

You won't ruin her scene, will you?

That wouldn't be good, Victor.

Only you, I thought,
could close the windows

against the wind,

during the storm.

Follow you? No.
I can't do that.

My girl, in the name of absence
and of forgetfulness,

you must not refuse.

Refusing is unacceptable is that it?

You're my father. So what?

A stranger walks into a bar
at 3am

and tells me the life story
of a young girl I don't know

and don't want to be.

A fool's game!

As blind and selfish as you are,
you can't understand.

I can only hate the girl
of your dreams.

But dreams come true!

You've no choice.

I'm offering you a new start.

I'll help you, my beloved child.

- I'll help you...
- To forget the brothels,

the dirty sheets.

And what if I like the filth
and all its sordid details?

You know, despair
is nothing but a daily drug.

A routine.

A shattered soul
that wanders the earth,

in no particular position.

And then, Father,
you appear with your smiling face,

your arms full of flowers,
to stealthily rob me of my life.

- Only it's too late.
- But why?

Too late?

Give me your suffering.

Give me all the world's troubles.

Then we'll finally be equal.

We'll carry the same weight
of anguish.

Does our ordeal, our long separation
really count for nothing?

The ordeal ends here.

Let's ask no more of fate.

We'll not meet again, Father.

We'll have only the right
to love each other

for as long as our eyes meet.

For the rest of our lives.

- What's going on?
- We're closing!

Turn the light on!
That's disgusting!

Where is she?

Where is she?

Pay your bill and get out!

- Open up!
- Curtain!

Come on, kids!
Everybody smile!

Close it.

Open. Come on.

Go on. Wait. Close it.

Open, damn it!

Go on!

- One more.
- Wonderful!

You were magnificent.
Do you hear them?

You can play any role now.

We'll act together.

We'll live together.

Never!

Bravo!

- The posters are done.
- It's all sorted.

And now,
the view from backstage.

Despite the success
of The Lost Girl,

two of the cast,
formerly close friends,

wish to end

their fraught on-stage relationship.

Apparently the triumph of youth
has cast maturity in the shade.

Do the living wait on the dead?

I wonder.

I now realise
I don't believe in God.

Excuse me, sir.

Who are they from?

On the Left Bank, you...

They'd cross the river
on horseback to see you.

Hulin worked here for 3 years.

And you'll run it yourself?

Yes. I have carte blanche.
I'm totally free.

- I'm indebted to you.
- Why?

Because it's thanks to you.

Certain encounters make you
realise you've been too tame,

fearful, cowardly.

Now I only want to write for you.

You mean you don't want
to write for someone else.

He's a fine actor.

We broke up on a success,
so we're even.

We'd reached the end of the road.

Is the same true for you?

I've started something.
I won't talk about it now.

But I see you in it.
Yes, after Chekhov.

You'll get to play Chekhov.

I think I'll write even better

because I love you.

But I don't love you, Coste.

What do we know of love?

What course it takes?

Love is something we dream.

Though it's my stock-in trade,
as it were,

I had never experienced it.

But I can't be yours.

I ask only that you be with me.

I won't touch you.

If I kiss your hand,

take it as a homage, pure,

worthy of one
for whom I have waited.

"The angelic slut
and the eternal virgin."

- Are they lovers?
- What do you think?

He probably makes love
like a deflated inner tube.

He got himself in debt
up to his neck

to give her a play
by that Russian consumptive.

Can we finish the letter?
The newspaper's waiting.

Yes, you're right.

So...

"Faced with the rampant invasion

"of Mujiks and Kalmucks,

"what is Derval's response?"

I don't know.

Molière. Write that.

"But fortunately, Molière,
our common father,

"the plain and loyal Molière,

"that quintessentially French genius,

"who can amuse people while
speaking of human suffering,

"invites us to draw
on our eternal resources."

Full stop.

You want to play Molière?

Yes.

Know what I like about him?

No.

The fact that he's dead.

It's brave playing Alceste here.

- Are you happy?
- Not as happy as you.

That's a good start.

Betty, you're wearing the fixed smile
of a hospital visitor.

What do you mean?
You did an extraordinary job.

- They laughed.
- But at what, Pastorini?

They laughed in the wrong places.

They're right to.
It's not Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme.

Alceste is a pain,

but he's moving
because he's young.

And he's thin, too.

I'm hungry.
Where are we eating?

At the Cantina!

Again.

Goodnight, Mr Derval.
How was the girl?

Like cold mutton.

All this time,

and you haven't moved?

Don't you want to...?

What else was I supposed to do?

You could at least
have held on to her.

You're in a bad way.

Omne animal
post coitum triste est.

That's right!

You know Latin.

You could always be a priest's maid.

- You're not funny, Victor.
- Two hours!

Even a dog
would've gone for a piss.

You disappoint me, old friend.

- You're all washed up.
- Want me to go?

Yes.

I'm kicking you out.

Disappear.

- I never want to see you again.
- How will I make a living?

You'll have a pension.

I'll pay not to see you again.

Get lost!

- Home, sir?
- No.

The red-light district's a long way.

- I can't bear it.
- Hurry up!

Roll up, ladies and gentlemen,
and listen to...

I'm sorry, sir,
but the young lady is unwell...

Leave us.

Hello.

Hello.

Can I get you anything?

No, thanks.

Please forgive
my unkempt appearance.

But I...

I haven't shaved,
I haven't been home.

I wanted to see you.

It's been a while.

I haven't seen your play yet.

Everyone says you're magnificent.

I remembered my lessons,
that's all.

The little match girl is long gone.

I think we could
see each other again now.

We've suffered enough.

I don't think
I'm suffering any more.

- We deserved to forget.
- No.

But we can't.

We can't.

We can't live all our lives
with a nightmare.

That's not it.

You see,

I feel he's been dead a long time.

That's a horrible thing to say!

I need you, Lisa.

Listen to me.

I never believed it was possible
to need someone like this.

I don't want to run away
or cheat any more.

I love you, Lisa.

You haven't understood, then?

I don't love you.
I no longer love you.

It's a brave move,
your Left-Bank theatre.

I hope your sponsors
have sturdy backs.

If you have the slightest problem,
you know I'm here.

We're selling out every night.

Ah! Good news!

What's the next play?

Yours, I mean.

If I'm not much mistaken,

this is it.

Well, I never!

It's a masterpiece.

It's likely to surprise,
shock even.

I'd be reluctant to involve
a man like you

in such an adventure.

It never crossed my mind.

I know for whom you write.

You're right to.
She's wonderful.

Everyone knows that now.

It's not only us
who recognise her talent.

True.
She's getting a lot of offers.

And that's not all.

It's inevitable.

For a young actress,
the wings of our old theatres

smell of sweat, dust
and hay fever.

Then there's the siren call:

why play for small audiences
when you can delight the crowds?

I don't see
what you're getting at, Derval.

I was at Joinville studios
yesterday.

They still want me for a film.

They said our young friend
was leaving France.

Quite soon.

Didn't you know?

Le Havre, New York.
New York, Hollywood.

You're lying!

She's signed a contract.

But we can still teach her a lesson
before she leaves.

Lisa, come and see.
It's incredible.

Look.

- What's going on?
- I don't know.

There wasn't one empty seat.

- Curtain in 10 minutes.
- It's empty.

We have the minimum quota:

one audience member
more than the cast.

Who are they?
Is this a joke?

What difference does it make?
You'll be paid all the same.

- Where's Coste?
- No idea.

- We had the best houses in Paris.
- Tonight's no exception.

- What do you mean?
- One individual

bought all the tickets.

We're not going on.

We're not going on.

- Do you agree?
- We are!

We're going on.

Yes. We're going on.

It's... How can I put it?

Pleasant, talented.

But after Tolstoy and Zola,
no-one wants to read Trigorine.

I hear footsteps.

I can't live without her.
Even her footsteps are lovely.

I hear footsteps.

I'm deliriously happy.

My angel.

My dream.

I'm not late,

am I?

- I'm not late, am I?
- No... No.

All day...

All day I've been worried.

I was so afraid
my father would stop me coming.

No longer loving you
is beyond my strength, Nina.

I call you,
I kiss the ground you walked on.

My father and his wife
don't want me to come here.

They're afraid
I'll become an actress.

But I... But I...

Why do you say you kissed
the ground I walked on?

You should kill me rather.

I am so tired.

Oh, if I could only rest! Rest!

I'm a seagull.

No. I'm not.
I'm an actress.

Yes, of course.

And he is here, too. Yes.

It doesn't matter.

He didn't believe in the theatre.
He always made fun of my dreams.

Little by little,
I too lost faith in it.

I became trivial,

insignificant.

I acted in an absurd way.

I never knew
what to do with my hands,

where to stand
or how to control my voice.

You can't know how it feels
to know you're acting badly.

I'm a seagull.

No. I'm not.

What was I saying?

Do you remember,

you killed a seagull?

A man passed by
and idly took its life.

An idea for a short story.

No. That wasn't it.

What was I saying?

I was talking about the theatre.

Yes.

Now I feel differently.
I am a real actress.

I act with joy, with exaltation.

I am intoxicated by it,
and feel that I am superb.

Ever since I've been here,
I've been walking.

Walking and thinking.

I think,

and I feel my strength
growing in me every day.

I know now, Kostia.
I understand that in our profession,

whether we act or write,
what matters is neither glory

nor fame,
nor any of the things I dreamt of.

But the gift of patience.

Knowing how to bear one's cross
and have faith.

I believe and my pain subsides.

And when I think of my vocation,

I am no longer afraid of life.

Hush!

Farewell!

When I have become
a famous actress,

you must come and see me.

Do you promise?

But now it's late.

I'm exhausted.

And when I think of my vocation,

I am no longer afraid of life.

Subtitles: ECLAIR