2 Autumns, 3 Winters (2013) - full transcript

2 AUTUMNS 3 WINTERS

Part One

Autumn 2009

The man is 33.

He's still a young man.

The young man is 33.

He lives in Paris, he's single.

His job is irrelevant.

Too much importance is given

to people's professional occupation.

It's only normal.



It takes up most
of their time, their life.

It's normal but sometimes,
it isn't interesting.

In Arman's case,
it isn't interesting.

So how is the life
of a young 33-year-old man

called Arman, interesting?

She's a pretty girl.
Well, I think so.

She's still young.

But already the anxiety of ageing
has wrinkled her face.

She doesn't try to conceal it.

She says she'll never
have plastic surgery.

Ever.

It's weird at her age.

What age? 27 and a half.

And in life... she's searching.



A year ago,
she got her history of art degree.

Since then she's been searching,
like all intellectuals.

She'd like to earn a living
writing about art.

For now,
she works in a gallery.

Oh yes, by the way,

she's called Amélie.

And she hates her name.
She thinks it's too nice.

A few weeks ago,
she told her mother that.

It caused a right row.

3Something has to happen

On Saturdays or Sundays...
if on the Saturday,

she didn't feel like it,

the girl runs in a Paris park.

She lives in Paris too.

I run too.

Well, on my 33rd birthday,

I decided to run twice a week
in the park near my place.

My 33rd birthday
was a day of revelation.

I have to quit smoking,

take up sports,

find a proper job.

Right now, to earn a living,

I do one McJob after another.
It isn't very interesting.

Actually it's really boring,
to be honest.

And then I quit.
Right now, I...

I'm in a big quitting period.

And, well, I'm 33.

Something really has to happen.

It was sunny.
I was looking down.

I sometimes run like that.
And he, who never does,

had the sun in his eyes.
I turned a corner with my head down

and he was coming the other way
with the sun in his eyes.

We collided.

I'm... I'm sorry. You OK?

Yes. Fine. And you?

Fine.

Thanks.

Well... that's good!

Yes.

It is. Yes.

Crap conversation.

Yes. It was really crap.
Totally boring.

But it's the start
of our relationship.

Right, well then, I'll...

I'll go.

Enjoy your run!

That's how left each other.

And we both continued our run.

Then we met again
on the next lap.

We smiled awkwardly.

And we both went home...

to have a shower.

42 Saturdays and 2 Sundays

The following Saturday,
I went back to the park.

I'd bought a black tracksuit

with white stripes at Go Sport.

It was the first time in my life

I'd ever bought
such expensive sports gear.

A real investment.

Pretty smart, huh?

It's kind of gothic
- people never change -

and sporty.
You can change even at 30.

Obviously,
my reason for turning up

had a lot to do with
my hoping to see Amélie again.

I ran for 45 minutes,

but no Amélie that Saturday.

Never mind!

I'll come back tomorrow

Back at home,

in the shower,

I thought about my tracksuit
with white stripes

that was going round and round

in the washing machine

and that'd never be dry
in the morning, for Amélie.

The following day,
I wore bermudas,

a light grey t-shirt
and bright yellow hoodie,

which makes me look,
I think, like a teenager.

A kind of cute teenager.

More hip hop
than new wave. Mind you...

Well, why not?

I walked for an hour.

And still no Amélie.

Sunday lunchtime,
the following weekend,

I faced the facts:

the young woman I met
2 weeks ago,

has stopped running weekends.

I'll never see her again.

End of story.

My name's Benjamin and I'm

a friend of Arman.

We met 10 years ago,

at art school in Bordeaux.

Arman was doing
kind of figurative painting

and I was making intimist
single-channel videos,

as we said back then.

Or installations.

We hit it off immediately.

I really liked his paintings.

He forced himself to find
my videos interesting.

But that didn't matter.

We spent 5 years
at art school together.

Together against the world.

Well, almost.

We loved hating some students,

those who took themselves for Beuys

or Gena Pane.

Who ate rotten meat

or quoted Nietzsche,
naked in bearskins.

We shared our studio with Hazuki,
a very funny Japanese student,

who could take her drink
and did weird drawings

where naked young girls copulated

with horned beasts.

We left art school after 5 years,

graduates, a little older

and above all,
a bit more depressive.

Arman moved to Paris.
He followed Céline,

a pretty girl
he'd met at a party,

who studied literature.

I spent another year in the city,

fuelling
my post-graduate depression.

I smoked cannabis
and drank every day,

while discussing my projects
with other graduates.

...in resin. A real kebab
in a block. It was like a brick.

I watched it...

gradually rot.

After a while,
the resin cracked.

I began to hate myself.

Then my Parisian grandma died.
Her apartment was empty.

I went up to Paris too.

I enrolled at uni,
to study film.

After 5 years of art school,
I wanted to do a proper degree.

The first film I saw

with Benjamin, in Paris,

I remember very clearly.

It was Eugène Green's
The Living World.

I'm the knight with a lion.

You have a lion?

Of course.

I wouldn't have said a lion.

I am the knight with a lion.

The Living World
is a mediaeval tale

with knights,
Lacanian witches, an ogre

and a lion
played by a labrador.

Eugène Green said
he wants to capture through film

the presence of beings.

And his project
was an incredible success.

Benjamin called me today

to invite me to see
the latest Judd Apatow, Funny People.

The film was on at 10:20pm
at the MK2 Beaubourg.

Funny People
tells the story of George Simmons,

a successful Hollywood comedian.

He learns at the beginning
that he has leukaemia

and, with the treatment,
an 8% chance of recovery.

He decides to return to the stage,
where he was discovered.

After the film,
we went for a beer

at the bar next to the cinema.

We were talking admiringly

about "Apatow's greatest film",

wondering why we felt
the same emotion

at exactly the same time,

when all of a sudden the waiter,

who looked so much like
Michel Delpech,

it was disturbing,

came to tell us
the bar was closing.

He said it ever so softly

with a sweet smile.

I'm parked over there.

- Right...
- I'm walking home.

Good luck then.

- See you tomorrow.
- Yes. See you.

It was cool.

Yeah. Bye.

7Paris by Night on a Bike

Here I am on my bike
in Rue Rambuteau.

As a tribute to the waiter,
I've found in the depths of my iPod

a Michel Delpech compilation.

I am riding along
listening to Le Chasseur.

As the wild geese fly
towards the Mediterranean,

I ride through the Marais.

Over the lake, I suddenly saw

Wild geese flying by

They were heading south

To the Mediterranean

A flock of partridges
Over the fields

Flew towards the clouds

After a few metres,

I come across a guy running

as if he were being chased
by the devil or the police.

But there's no one at his heels,
not the devil or the cops.

I carry on.

I'm about to turn
into Rue des Commines,

to get to Rue Oberkampf,

when suddenly,
in the middle of the last verse,

when Michel Delpech

speaks of his desire
to join the birds

"up there, in the clouds",

I think I hear a scream.

I stop...

listen out.

Another scream.

That of a woman.

A young woman.

Coming from the alley.

I think of George Simmons,

Judd Apatow's hero,

of his bravery in the film.

I get off my bike.

I go over to the alley.

I walk into darkness.

8The chef's tiramisu

Guillaume has invited me to dinner.

He's the guy I've been dating
for the past 6 months.

I met him in a bar,
where he was djing.

He's a DJ.

I fell for him.

Guillaume works almost
every night, but not tonight.

He's decided to take me
to a restaurant

owned by a friend of his.

On getting there, I see
it's a bar that serves food.

A place where the music's loud
and the food frozen.

A young woman puts
the board on a chair

facing us,
like in restaurants

for broke thirtysomethings.

Err, um...

I'll have a house hamburger, please.

Yes.

The salmon steak.

Do you want wine?
There's a good Madiran.

We take the Madiran.
I felt like drinking.

OK. Great.

I'd brought a few vinyls
that I love. Electro.

It was awesome.
In my bag and stuff.

I hadn't seen Guillaume for a week

and what he was saying,
was dead boring.

Guillaume,
I hadn't realized at first,

was one of those people
who never ask questions

and are capable of telling you
exactly the same story

two days later,
thinking it's the first time.

I had a pain
in my back and my legs

you just can't imagine.

Do you want dessert?
Want to see the menu?

I'm good. Thanks.

I was praying he'd understand

I wanted to get
the hell out of there,

and ask for the bill.

Yes. I'd like...
the chef's tiramisu.

But instead he went and ordered
the chef's fucking tiramisu.

Where was I? Yes.
My backache.

Backache. I was stuck in bed
for three whole days.

9Think of nothing till tomorrow

I want to sleep with you.

I want to be alone in my flat.

I want to forget tonight
and think of nothing till tomorrow.

I don't answer.

Right... I'll drop you off.
It's on my way.

If you like.

Nice evening, huh?

Are you in a mood?

- No, I'm not in a mood.
- You are.

We carried on walking in silence.

It was kind of heavy.

2 guys in hoodies
jumped out of an alleyway.

Your dosh!

Don't move! Stay there!

This all you've got?

And you?

The guy grabbed my handbag.

He emptied it
and took my wallet.

He find a 10 euro note.

Beat it!

Did you hear me?

Guillaume didn't wait
to be told again.

No!

10
A blow in the heart

It's dark.

What am I doing here?

I can see three figures.

There are two men wearing hoodies

and black tracksuits,

and... and...

a young woman.

She's struggling to break free
from the ninjas' clutches.

I shout at them.

A kind of weird onomatopoeia

comes out of my mouth.

OK, so it's not very virile.

I face them.

Without really knowing
how to handle this confrontation.

He's the guy who bumped into me

a few weeks ago in the park.

It's her... The girl in the park.

A suspended moment.

I forget the ninjas.

Time stops.

Pity.

Shame.

Suspended moments
never last long enough.

Then everything happened fast.

I must have said,
"Let go of her" or something.

That didn't please the small guy,
who stabbed me in the belly.

Then the tall guy panicked.

He shouted
then they ran off

while I was losing blood
in Amélie's arms.

This is a first. We're going fast.
The siren's wailing.

I'm on a stretcher.
Amélie is leaning over me.

Next to her,
a guy with a moustache keeps saying,

"Can you hear me? Speak to me."

I really don't feel like talking.

I feel fine.

Amélie is very beautiful
with the light behind her.

I'm thinking to myself
my life is going to end,

at 33, in this fire truck,

and that my last image

will be of this very pretty girl

leaning over me.

I can't hear the siren anymore.

I can't feel my body.

Amélie's face vanishes.

I'm not afraid.

I'm not in pain.

My life is flashing past me.

11
White (out of body No.1)

God, he's lucky he survived.

- Look.
- Yes.

Touch and go.

From my furry mouth,

I timidly ask a question.

Am I alive?

No one can hear me.
Not even me.

Then my eyelids close

without my brain telling them to.

I fall back into a sleep

like I imagine death to be.

All of a sudden,
I'm cold, very cold.

Fuck, it's me!

The guy... I can see myself.

I'm standing stiff as pole.

I think, "This is a bad sign."

I look awful. Where am I?
What's this white?

It looks like nothing.
A total void.

White in front of me, behind me,
above me, below me.

White, white, white.

A hand touches my shoulder.

It's my dad.

Hey, what are you...

Why are you here?

He died when I was 20
of lung cancer.

I've no idea.

I was stabbed.

Gosh!

I don't think I'm dead.

But I'm not sure.

No. You must be on morphine.

Really?

At the end of my cancer,

I was put on my morphine.
I had weird visions.

Well, I'm reassured because...

I really had a doubt.
I was stabbed, everything's white...

No. Trust me.

Death isn't like this.

I know what I'm talking about.

If you say so...

Just look.

- What?
- Your arm.

- What about it?
- You're starting to disappear.

Fuck, yes!
I'm disappearing.

I reckon, in a few seconds,
you'll be back in the hospital.

Hang on!
We haven't had time to chat.

Goodbye, Arman.

Wait, Dad!

Dad!

Look, I'm still here.

All of a sudden...

I notice a figure
coming towards me.

Fuck, it's Amélie.

There I was,
lying on a bed,

alive
- I was sure now -,

and a young woman
whose charm I'd succumbed to

and who saw me as a hero

was keeping me company.

There were no awkward silences
between us at all.

The words came easily.

We laughed.
We got acquainted.

13
Chileans in Survivor

3 days ago,
I was moved to the 12th floor

of Bichat Hospital.

On the 3rd day,
Benjamin met Amélie.

When we were alone,

he asked what I was waiting for...

to implement my approach strategy.

My approach strategy!

Well, that made me think.

I have a TV.

Like every night,
I couldn't help switching it on.

And that's when
I suddenly discovered

Survivor.

It's basically a show...

that involves...

dropping contestants off
on a desert island

and making them compete
in different challenges,

all sorts of tests,
in tiny swimsuits

on pretty little beaches.

For instance,
to score quite a few points,

they have to eat dried scorpions.

But they spend most of their time

saying really bitchy things

about the others

and scheming
against the weakest contestant.

Good evening.
Here's the image of the day.

It was feared the survivors
would be ill and weak.

But it was a group
of perfectly healthy men

that was rescued in Chile.

A technical feat.
A cause for national celebration too.

Here's the report
from Dorothée Olliéric.

No one wanted to go up first
and steal the limelight.

In the end,
31-year-old Florencio Avalos

was chosen.

Greeted by applause
from the rescuers,

the miner emerged calmly.

Mario!

We're waiting for you!

Thanks, everyone! Thanks!

After those images,
Mario Sepulveda,

the first miner
to speak to the press,

appeared on the screen and said,

"I was with God.

"I was with the Devil.

"They both tried to get me.

"And it was God who won.

"I took God's hand.

"He got me out of there."

I dreamt that night.

In my dream, the Chilean miners
were competing on Survivor.

Mario Sepulveda,
bare-chested and in a swimsuit,

was moaning
about his companions'

lack of physical commitment.

14
BAM

It's funny...
It's funny it happened like that,

on leaving the hospital,
2 weeks after the accident,

when Arman had just told me
about meeting his dad

in the void,
the day he thought he was dead.

I never go to the doctor.

I'm never ill, never have flu,
or the slightest problem.

"A force of nature",
as my mum would say.

And then... bam!

That night,
in a street near the hospital,

as I was heading to the metro

thinking about Arman's experience

and, I have to admit,
feeling kind of envious,

I suddenly got
a terrible headache.

As if my brain
were about to explode.

I lost my balance.

I fell over.

Half of my body
was in a laurel bush,

the other on the tarmac.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't feel my body.
The pain disappeared.

I'm in the bush,
face down on the wet earth,

near the roots.

A new world.

My own white landscape.

I'd like to shout but...

I cannot.

Nothing happens for ages.

I start feeling lonely.
I'm bored.

Just as I'm getting desperate,

a tired old cat appears.

Its shining nyctalope's eyes look

into my dark, dull eyes.

I get the impression
it has taken a liking to me.

The rhythm of its purring,

the compassionate way it looks at me,
really touch me.

And yet,
it leaves me after a while.

And I sink back again
into the loneliness of my existence.

16
I emerge from the bush

Maybe I fell asleep.

Day has broken when a thing
hits the other part of my body.

The part I'd almost forgotten,
on the tarmac.

Sir!

Hey, sir!

I cannot answer.

- He swears.
- Fuck! This is well heavy!

I want to shake him
so he fetches someone.

"Come on!
Go get help."

I'm afraid he'll leave.

But he takes his phone
out of his low-waisters

and calls the emergency services.

- Hello?
- Thanks, kid.

Hello...

Farewell world of the bush.

Then an ambulance arrives.

Stretcher! It looks serious.

"Sir! Can you hear me?"

Transport. Back to square one.

The hospital round the corner.

Lift. Lower ground floor.
Emergency scan.

Diagnosis: CVA.
Cerebral vascular accident.

Intensive care unit.
Head down, legs in the air.

What a night!

17
CVA

The sequelae depend

on the area of the brain
and the functions it controls.

The bigger the area
deprived of oxygen,

the worse the sequelae are.

After a CVA, some people
will find it difficult to speak

or write,
and have memory problems.

They can also suffer
from a paralysis of the body.

I was supposed
to leave hospital tomorrow.

And Benjamin was admitted
with his 3-letter thing,

which had damaged his brain.

Since this morning,
visits have been allowed.

10 minutes, no more.

Amélie comes with me.

When we get out of the lift,

we follow the arrows
saying "cerebral attack".

The tilted bed
keeps my head down.

This is done to prevent
the risk of another attack.

It must be frightening
to see me like this.

You have to get close
to see my face.

Arman comes over.

Amélie stays where she is.

I'm afraid to meet his eye,
to break down in tears.

But this anxiety vanishes

when I look down at him.

The paralysis of half his body
gives his face

a funny expression...

strangely cheerful.

I think he's smiling at me.

And his smile seems to say:

"Don't worry."

At that moment,
I'm convinced he'll make it,

that it's some kind of experiment

and he'll be the better for it.

I take my friend's hand.

And he smiles at me.

18
Sarkozy doesn't exist.

The 8th day after my CVA
and my stay in the bush.

My bed is now flat.

My head is at the same level
as the rest of my body.

I can raise my left arm
and move my leg.

Each word is an effort,
but I start speaking again.

But the weirdest sequelae
affect my mind and my memory.

The doctor, to stimulate my brain
and test my progress,

comes in and asks questions
which, very often,

leave me distraught.

Can you tell me
which continent France is on?

- Europe.
- Excellent.

Can you tell me the name
of the President of the Republic?

Chirac.

No, it isn't Chirac.

My parents are there.
They give me a pitiful look.

Is isn't Chirac?

"Poor child,"
they seem to be thinking.

Here's a clue.
His wife is an ex model.

He's talking like I'm a kid.
He's taking the piss.

But Dad shrugs his shoulders
as if in approval.

She's a singer too.

That's all I needed!

Well?

Well... nothing.

Bernadette Chirac?

The first letter of his name is S.

I'm still thinking
of Bernadette Chirac.

S...

After a while,
he says "Sarkozy".

Sarkozy...

It all comes back to me.

19
Rue Orfila

Autumn has turned harsh.

The girls have put away
their skimpy clothes.

Skirts, tights
and leather boots

are back at last.

It's my favourite season.

I'm thinking about clothes

when, at the end of Rue Orfila,

the sight of a young women
with a pushchair

makes me feel sick.

It's definitely Céline.

The girl I moved to Paris with

and with whom I spent
five years of my life.

I hadn't seen her since we split up.

Actually, I had.

Once.

It had been a disaster.

She wanted us to stay friends.

She'd left me

and she wanted us to stay friends.

For me, it was unthinkable.

How could she ask me that?

There she was ahead of me

with, in a pushchair,

a child that wasn't ours.

I came to halt by the metro

and I watched her disappear
around the corner of the street.

How come after all this time
me and Amélie

haven't slept together?
Now that Benjamin is better,

I have to take things in hand.

Yes. Hello!
Hi, it's Arman. How are you?

Yes. Fine.

I was calling...
It's really silly...

Well...

Actually, I was thinking of you...

I saw a film by Bresson

which made me...
I was thinking of you...

Not exactly of you...

Because Bresson is...

But I was thinking of you
in a more metaphorical way.

Well, a more...
In Four Nights of a Dreamer.

Maybe you've seen it?

Anyway, I wondered...
I thought to myself, "Hey..."

On seeing the film, "Hey..."
It's got nothing to do with Bresson.

As I enjoy food,
I thought maybe you did too.

Maybe we could have a...

Tonight? If you...

At mine. I have a fridge.
So I could put some...

Right... Great! Yes...

Right, great. Listen...

I'll text you my address.
That way, you...

OK. Right, well...

Right, well that's... OK, then...

Ah, no! That's it.

Right. Err...

It's 4pm now.
So that means I've got...

4 and half hours to... One:

decide on the menu.

Two:

do the shopping
at Simply Market downstairs.

Three: Well... cook.

And four:

tidy the flat,

but not too much.

21
Simply Market

I found the ingredients fast,

which is a good thing already.

I push my trolley to the tills.

Only two are open, as usual.

I hesitate. Which till?

I stand behind a guy

whose trolley is full
of bottled water.

He must bathe in mineral water.

8.

Ah! Excuse me.
It's closed, after this gentleman.

This happens every other time!

Right well, I'll take my carrots.

And go see the old ladies!

One old lady
is asking the cashier

to look in her purse
for the right change.

Another old lady
is methodically putting

15 tins of cat food
on the conveyor belt.

Teens with fringes
are redoing their fringes.

And a homeless guy...

comes and stands behind me

and counts loads of coins

in the palm of his trembling hand.

Fifteen minutes later,
I finally get to put

my purchases in bags.

That's 47.20 euros, please.

I'll pay by credit card.

- Do you have a loyalty card?
- No.

- Do you want one?
- No.

- May I pay?
- Yes.

22
The dinner

I shouldn't say this.

Your flat is huge.

It isn't my flat.

Right!

What I mean is...
it belongs to a friend

who lend me his flat...

Arman explains to me
it isn't his flat.

A rich friend
who's moved to New York

has lent it to him.

Arman has been squatting it
for over a year now.

We start off on the balcony,
drinking a glass of champagne.

- Cheers!
- Cheers!

We drink to Benjamin's recovery, his

and to our meeting.

And to our meeting!

In silence,
we look at the city

that has fallen into night.

Look, if you lean a bit,
you can see the Sacré Coeur.

So we lean to see the Sacré Cœur.

The beating of my heart

speeds up when his arm
accidentally brushes my chest.

- Shall we eat?
- Yes.

You take an onion, chop it

then fry it with sliced mushrooms

and a bit of butter.

You brown it then cover it.

For 40 minutes,
you stir it with love.

Ah, right!

- No, but it's true.
- I believe you.

While eating his excellent
vegetarian lasagne,

we talk about my gallery job.

Arman admits
he wanted to be a painter.

I was at art school for 5 years.

- In Paris?
- No, Bordeaux.

I studied painting.

- It's a bit has-been, right?
- No. It isn't has-been.

I quit. Well, I gave up.

I was with a girl.

She was the only person
who liked my work. When she left...

I decided it made
no sense to continue.

Right, I'll go...
Do you want dessert?

Yes.

The Vacqueyras finished,
Arman opened another bottle.

I felt hotter and hotter,
more and more drunk.

You drink a lot, huh?
I'm not used to it.

I drink reasonably, but this...

- I'm opening another one.
- I can see that!

I've had enough wine!

Hang on, I'm really hot.

Aren't you hot?

Maybe I'll put some music on.

What are you putting on?

Do you want...

Want to sit on the couch?
It's softer.

Yes.

This album is more well-known...

Alright.

We got undressed
in the middle of the living room.

Thank God I'd hoovered.

20th day after my CVA.

After my physio session,

I fell asleep exhausted.

That was the night
my weird sister made contact with me.

Benjamin, it's your sister, Lucie.

If you can hear me,
I've managed to penetrate your mind.

I wanted to say hello.

Sorry I haven't done so before.

Don't be mad at me.

I think of you every day,

several times even,
since Mum told me about you.

This CVA is an alert, Benjamin.

A global alert.

Society is sick
and contaminates the weakest

and those who resist,
to damage them.

You're a victim, big brother,
and I am...

Benjamin!

There's a problem with the line.

Benjamin,
can you hear me?

I'll contact you later.
Love you!

PART TWO

Winter 2010-2011

It's been over a year
since I met Amélie.

It happened in this park,

which we are driving past
together in a hire car.

Seeing the joggers
behind the railings,

I think of the young man I was.

I see myself again
in my ridiculous tracksuit

and my desire
to change my life.

I'm 34 years old now
and my life has changed.

I live with a girl with whom...

with whom I'm in love.

Benjamin is better.

The speed of his recovery
surprised everyone.

Well, everyone except
his speech therapist

with whom he is having
an extra-professional relationship.

We're on our way to spend
4 days with him and Katia,

his speech therapist fiancée,

in a Swiss village called Finhaut,

near the French border.

Katia's uncle lives there.
He owns,

as well as his home,
a chalet for tourists.

A German holiday group
has just cancelled.

The chalet is free.
We're taking advantage of it.

We had to leave the car
at Martigny Station

as the early and heavy snowfall

has made roads impassable
without special gear.

We go up to Finhaut
in the little train.

We're alone.
Our bodies sway.

On the platform,
Katia and Benjamin greet us.

It's the first time we've met Katia.

She's a tiny woman.

Younger than us.
22 or 23, I'd say.

You've lost weight!
You're handsome.

- You look well.
- I've recovered.

- Isn't he handsome?
- Yes.

- Let's go!
- We'll show you the house.

Alright.

Go ahead.

What shall we cook tonight?

- Who was that?
- My cousin.

He's just been dumped.
He's really down.

This is it.

Here we are!

- Is this is?
- Yes.

- "Vati Camp."
- Yes.

Usually,

Vati Camp actually accommodates

disabled people
or groups of sick children.

- Isn't that right, Katia?
- Yes. Addicts too.

I see. Well, I hope
we're good enough.

Course!

-Right, well...
- Let's go.

- See, Amélie? Vati Camp.
- Welcome!

18
Katia, after the battle

It's always hard to arrive
after the battle.

I hate talking about myself.
But tonight, with two strangers,

I have to do just that.

My big brother lives in Morges.

- Morges?
- Yes, Morges. Near Lausanne.

- What does he do?
- He's an analyst.

- What sort?
- Psychoanalyst.

- When did you leave?
- What?

- Nothing.
- What?

Nothing!

So when did you leave?

- That's an interesting question.
- Thanks.

About 5 yeas ago.

I stayed in Lausanne
till I was 18.

I studied medicine in Geneva.

I was with a guy
who was studying with me.

- What was his name?
- Mathias.

He wanted to study in Paris
so I followed him.

A teacher I got on with
suggested I do speech therapy.

- And...
- A teacher?

- Let her speak.
- Only you can ask questions!

I got into a speech therapy school.

I left my boyfriend.

And then I got hired
by the medical practice.

Benjamin is one
of my first patients.

Your story makes me want
to have a CVA right now.

- It's true!
- Don't say that!

- Why not?
- It's harsh. He almost died.

It's OK, he's fine now.

He's lucky.
It's thanks to Katia.

I'd never have done speech therapy
if I hadn't met Katia.

You just want to meet Katia, huh?

- That's right
- Well, you've met her!

- Not Katia. The idea of Katia.
- I've got a fork!

We went to bed around 2am.

Katia seemed happy
to have met my friends.

I was relieved
it had gone so well.

Thinking about it,
I had no reason to worry.

We made love.

Katia fell asleep in my arms.

Since my CVA, Katia is
the only person I've slept with.

Whenever we make love,
immediately after

I feel real anguish
and a fear of death.

I'd like to be able
to talk to her about it.

17
Les Hauts-Forts Pass

We walked for 4 hours
to get to the summit.

Four long and interminable hours.

I'm not used to walking
in the mountains. It's a first.

It took every last bit of energy

for me to reach our goal.

I feel exhausted

and find it hard to appreciate
the vast landscape

before my eyes.

It's so quiet!

After a very long minute,
Arman turned round.

You OK?

No.

What's the matter?

What's wrong?
Hey! What's the matter?

What's wrong?

It was the first time
I had seen Amélie cry.

I had never seen tears
pouring from her eyes.

Not once in a whole year.

I don't even recall seeing
her eyes glisten.

I took her in my arms.

She stopped sobbing.

I knew at that very second,
in my relationship with Amélie,

there'd be a before
and an after Les Hauts-Forts Pass.

Right. Shall we get out the cheese?

They're in my bag.

In France, we know
about raclette and fondue.

As we ate,
Benjamin talked to us

about Swiss cuisine.

Benjamin hates conflict,
tense situations.

If a silence is a bit too long,

he has to break it.

- That fennel sausage...
- Longeole.

Longeole!
Delicious! I love it.

Swiss French cuisine
has several different influences

while Swiss German cuisine
is kind of impervious.

So after a few remarks

about the differences
between Swiss French cuisine

and Swiss German cuisine,

Benjamin starts going on
about Alain Tanner's films.

"Talking of Swiss gems,
do you know The Salamander?"

It's one of Katia's favourite films.

I discovered it recently.

It's the story of 2 friends,

Pierre and Paul.

Paul is a writer
and Pierre's a journalist.

They decide to write a film

based on a news item
involving a girl called Rosemonde.

The 2 friends decide
to look into this news item,

its causes and consequences,
each in their own way.

Pierre investigates,
Paul turns it into a story.

It's a film that asks
fundamental questions.

Paul, what would you say
we're doing right now?

Driving down a road in a car.

No. What I mean is...

Do you think this drive
will be useful for our work?

Isn't it a waste of time?

It's nonsense really.

Thanks to Swiss cuisine
and Alain Turner,

Benjamin managed to lift the cloud
obscuring Amélie's face.

...meets her and falls in love!

On the way down,

I wondered if
there was a salamander

in Benjamin's brain.

15
Finhaut, in the past

The two days following
our trek to Les Hauts-Forts Pass

were kind of strange.

Amélie didn't mention her tears.
I didn't try to find out more.

I put it down to tiredness.

We did another walk,
which wasn't as taxing.

We ate a lot
and drank a bit.

And Katia and Benjamin
took us back to the station.

It's the end of the beginning.

He meant to say
the beginning of the end.

Of Amélie and Arman.
I hoped he was wrong.

What are you doing?

I came to get the rifle.

- What for?
- I'm going hunting.

- You hunt?
- Yes.

What do you hunt?

Rabbits.

- You shoot rabbits?
- Yes.

Me and Jan
were five years apart.

As kids, in the holidays,
we played together.

I couldn't wait to see him.

He changed at 15,

when he started high school.

He wore dark clothes,
dyed his hair black

and spend hours indoors

listening to goth music.
He was just like a vampire.

That was the year I formed
The Dead Children,

with 2 friends of mine.

Drummer and lead guitar.
I was the bass player.

At first, I sang too,
but it was pretty awful.

I couldn't pitch my voice
and the result hurt your ears.

So we placed an ad for a singer.

That's how I met Maria.

It was love at first sight.
We went out together.

Then...

Maria left me a first time.
I made my first suicide attempt.

It was in Vati Camp's garage.

I wanted to hang myself
like Ian Curtis,

the singer of Joy Division,

but the beam collapsed
and I broke my arm.

My dad never knew.

Then I started making
electronic music.

I sang

in German and French.

People said it was like Grauzone,

Stephan Eicher's 2nd band.

That's when Maria met
a guy at work.

They had a bit of a fling.

When I found out,
I tried to kill myself again.

It was summer.
I drank 2 litres of whisky.

I tried to drown myself.

Like Jeff Buckley.

I went fully clothed into the lake,
near Emosson Dam.

Some tourists spotted me.

A guy dived in
and pulled me out.

I made the local headlines.

After that,
I wound up in a psychiatric clinic.

I spend my days

composing songs in French
on a four track.

When I had 10 tracks,
I sent them to Maria.

She find it so moving,
she came back to me.

I left the clinic
and we moved in together.

It was good.
It seemed strong.

Then we split up again
a month ago.

She kicked me out.

I don't know why.

Can I come with you?

Where?

Rabbit hunting.

That's how I prevented
the 3rd suicide attempt

of Katia's cousin.

Have you ever skinned a rabbit?

We walked in silence
for several minutes.

But the silence was heavy.
I told him about my grandma

who'd lived in Pyrenees.
I loved her.

She bred rabbits.

She opened them
with a big knife

then she skinned them.
She pulled the skin

and it came off in one go,
just like a jumper.

It was fascinating.

Well, it fascinated me.

We hid behind a tree
in the forest

and waited for a rabbit.

Then Jan started telling me
about Maria, his ex.

He said he and Maria
were intensely close

but they couldn't stay together.

They rowed over nothing
and it was a real tragedy for him.

I told him he had
to accept the situation,

the way they functioned,
she'd come back. He said...

- You think so?
- I'm sure of it.

I was lying.
I had no idea.

He smiled at me.
That's when a rabbit appeared.

Jan pointed his gun
at the little creature.

In my mind,

I said, "He won't shoot.

"He won't shoot the bunny."

But Jan fired.

The rabbit's body fell silently.

A red stain appeared on its fur.

It's the first time
I've killed a living being.

Katia cooked rabbit
with mustard sauce for us 3.

I couldn't eat a thing.

13
The secret

A month ago,
we were at Les Hauts-Forts Pass

and I cried.

I cried without knowing why.

I felt awful.

The day after we got back,
I went to see the doctor.

I was pregnant.

When he told me,

I pretended to be happy,
as you do.

Then I went home.

I didn't tell Arman.

I could have done.
I chose to say nothing.

I thought of us,
our relationship.

Still I said nothing.

I asked myself questions.

Did I love Arman?

Did I want to have his child?
Did I want a child?

Was I capable of loving someone?

I couldn't answer
any of those questions.

I hated myself for that.

Arman doesn't know that today...

I went to the clinic.

He doesn't know
what I've just done.

12
Night eventually fell

I could see things weren't right.

Amélie was the shadow
of her former self.

I questioned her more than usual.

To know what was happening to us.

She started crying.

It was the second time
I had seen her cry.

And she told me everything.

She asked
if I'd have liked to keep it.

That wasn't the question.

Why didn't she say anything?

She didn't know why.

She didn't know anything.

I said it was terrible
what she had done.

She carried on crying.

I whacked really hard
her grandparents' wardrobe.

My wrist really hurt.

I was mad at her.

I was mad at the wardrobe.
I was mad at her grandparents.

I walked out.

I walked for two hours.

And then night eventually fell.

11
The idiots

We met at the Idiots,
on Boulevard de Ménilmontant.

When we are at a loss,
we always end up there.

A Leffe.

I'd never seen Arman
in such a state.

He was a mass
of anger and sadness.

A weird combination.

He asked me if he could carry on
with a girl who had done that.

A girl who didn't want his child.

Did it still mean anything?

After our second beer,
the anger had vanished.

Leaving only sadness.

What am I going to do?

I don't know.

I can't go home now.

I can't look at her.

- Have my flat.
- No.

Do! I'll sleep at Katia's.
I spend most of my time there.

He put his hand on my shoulder.
It was quite solemn.

Thanks.

It went on for ages.
I was embarrassed.

He took his hand away
and looked down.

I ordered a third beer.

- Excuse me!
- Yes?

- Can we have 2 more beers?
- Yes. Right away.

Thanks.

Since my CVA,
I've stopped drinking hard.

But in extreme situations like this,

I tend to bend the rules.

Halfway through the 3rd beer,
Arman said...

The worst thing is,

I think I could forgive her.

He jumped up.
I was afraid he'd go see her.

He just went to the loo.

Coming out of the loo,

after relieving myself
of my 2 and a half beers,

I came across a girl
with her back to me

by the sink,
in the communal space,

She jumped on seeing me
reflected in the mirror.

She turned round.

I smiled.

It was Hazuki, from my art school.
We came back

from the loos together
as Benjamin looked in astonishment.

- Same again.
- 2 Leffes?

- And you?
- A gin Martini.

So how long
have you been in Paris?

About 6 months.

And... are you on your own?

No. I live with my friend.

- A flatshare?
- No. I'm a lesbian.

I met Carolène.
I changed my sexual orientation.

Are you surprised?

- No.
- No? It's OK?

- I think...
- It's great.

You know, with guys,
it was getting too complicated.

It always ended badly too.

I was speechless.
Back in art school,

she was always up
for one-night stands.

And she really liked guys.

Benjamin would know.

Plus, you know,

I needed a different sort
of relationship.

Something more stable,
less crude.

Of course.

What do you mean?

I was sick of taking it
up the ass.

It depends how often it is.
Er, what I mean is...

how... Yes, well, whatever.

And what are you guys up to?

Well, we're kind of...

- OK.
- Yes.

You've really aged in any case.

I'm losing my hair, but...

We parted when the bar closed

after a quick and not very flattering
account of the past 10 years.

and promised to meet up soon.

When I got home
around 2:30 am,

Katia was already asleep.

I'd drunk too much.

I lay down fully clothed
next to her warm body.

Thanks to the booze,
I fell asleep like a baby.

Hello Benjamin.
I hope you're well.

Mum probably said
I'll be home for Xmas.

I hope you'll be there.

That's why I'm calling.
I'd like you to be there.

I've not been on my own
with them for 18 months.

I'm going to India for 3 months.
They'll be alarmed.

Mum told me you were better.

You were almost normal again.

I'm pleased.

I had a dream.
I dreamt about you.

You were a famous politician
and were on TV.

You said your CVA
had opened your eyes.

You'd founded a party called CVA.

I don't remember
what it stood for.

I won't bother you any longer.

Think about Xmas.
Don't leave me on my own.

Last week,
I left Arman two voicemails.

I wanted us to talk.

I felt sad and alone.

I felt so bad
about what I'd done.

I'd been scared of having a baby.
I'd been dumb and selfish.

He'd never forgive me.

A few hours after the 2nd voicemail,
he texted me.

"It's best we don't see each other."

He needed to think.
He'd be in touch.

Since then
I've spent my time waiting.

I'm working on my thesis
but I'm not motivated at all.

All I can think of is Arman,
the fear of losing him.

To stop myself thinking,
I download series.

I've seen four seasons of Mad Men,

two of Breaking Bad.
Now I'm watching The Walking Dead.

I'm following the adventures
of Rick's family

as they try to survive in a world
where most people

have turned into zombies.

I feel for them.

I shake with fear
they will get bitten

and the entire world
will become zombies.

I reassure myself by telling myself
they've signed for season two.

But fear is illogical.

On December 22,
Benjamin asked what I was doing

for Christmas.

I usually visit my mum,
who lives near Nantes.

But this year my mum,
who's become a globetrotter

since she retired,

has decided to go
on holiday to Marrakech,

with a couple of friends,
young retirees like herself.

She was polite enough to ask me
if I didn't mind too much.

I replied, "Not at all.

"Go. It's normal.

"Enjoy yourself."

It was a lie.
The world had gone crazy.

So that's why I agreed
to go with Benjamin

to visit his family in Auvergne.

I felt just like a kid in care

who gets to spend the holidays
with a foster family.

After a 10-hour drive,
we arrived feeling knackered.

It was good to see
Benjamin's parents again.

They were introduced to Katia,

who had helped him speak again.

- Isn't Lucie here?
- She's in her room.

- She didn't come down?
- Have you heard?

- What?
- About India.

Ah yes! I heard about it.

- You should go talk to her.
- Alright. In a minute.

Could you take Katia's bag, Dad?

In you go.

6In Lucie's room

Lucie is 22 and lives at home.

Well, she did until fairly recently

After a few failed relationships,
my sister decided

to work on herself.

As a result,
she met a pseudo-psychotherapist

who turned out to be
a priestess of something

and have dozens of disciples.

Of course,
the turn of events

worried my parents.

Your hair's very short.

You look like Sinéad O'Connor.
It suits you.

- Hello.
- Hello, Lucie.

You OK?

Have you just spoken
to Mum and Dad?

I've just rowed
with Mum and Dad.

- Have you redecorated?
- Yes. A bit.

So how did you little chat go?

Well, Mum cried, Dad shouted,
and I came up here.

They're just worried.
It's normal. I'm worried too.

You have to stop
worrying about me.

I should be worrying about you.

Hang on, it's a bit weird...

You live in a manor somewhere,
in a commune.

For us, it's kind of freaky.

And the telepathy?

And it isn't weird
you had a CVA at 30?

There's no connection.

That's what you think?

- Don't talk to me like that.
- Why not?

You know nothing.
You're a pain!

You're a fucking pain!
You refuse to understand.

Let's not argue.
It's Christmas.

- Let's go have our turkey.
- I don't eat meat.

That's original.

Jerk!

- They're rude in your sect!
- It isn't a sect.

Come on, let's eat.

I was kind of reassured
about her mental health.

She wasn't a total nutjob.

In the living room,
Katia, Arman and our parents

were waiting for us
with taramasalata on toast.

5Hallelujah

It was an excellent Christmas meal.

Katia and I were
pampered guests.

And for those few hours,

I managed to forget
my sad fate.

There, it's 12:45.

It's officially December 25.

The son of God
has just come down to Earth

to save mankind
and wash away the sins of the world.

As Benjamin's family
and Katia exchange gifts

and help keep the tradition alive,

I slip away to the farmyard.

The ewes bleat in the stable.

It's surprising how much
it sounds like a human cry.

I take the path up to the hills
above Saint-Diéry.

Bathed in moonlight,

the peaks of Puy de Sancy
are majestic.

Alone facing this 1885m-high volcano,

I feel the irresistible desire
to call Amélie.

But I resist the irresistible

and decide to continue on my way.

Midnight Mass has just finished.

The faithful leave the church.

No one looks at me.

No one appears to see me.

I must be in another space time.

I don't exist.

A little disappointed
by my fellow men's indifference,

I sit down on a bench.

The village square
is peaceful again now.

And I feel desperately alone.

"As I was sleeping

"As I was dreaming

"The hands moved.

"It's too late"

My childhood is so far away

It is already tomorrow

Pass, pass time

It won't be very much longer

And yet I'm still alive

And yet I make love

"I even sing sometimes

"On my guitar"

For the child I was

For the child I had

Pass, pass time

It won't be very much longer

"As I was singing

"As I was loving you

"As I was dreaming

"There was still time"

When Arman called,

I was lying on my bed
in my old bedroom, in Orgeval.

We'd celebrated Christmas
with my parents, brother, sister

and their respective partners.

I was the singleton of the evening.

My parents very fond of Arman.

Our situation
seemed to really affect them.

When my phone range,

I was just about to fall asleep.

We talked for almost an hour.

I'll never forget what
we said to one another.

Our relationship wasn't a tale.
We weren't kids anymore.

If we needed each other,
it was partly owing to our weaknesses

to habit, to the fear of being alone.

We knew that now

and we'd have to try
and live with it.

We'd have to try
to reinvent our relationship.

In the morning,
I thought it was a dream.

I wanted to be with him.

A year later

The day begins

with the sing-song voice

of Joël Collado

telling us
the day will be grey

and very cold.

It's the fifth day of the year 2012,

the year of the end of the world
according to the Mayas.

And it's Amélie's birthday.

This is it! She's 30.

We're meeting Katia
and Benjamin at 4pm.

We've decided,
on this day of idleness,

to go the Munch exhibition,
which is ending soon.

After a first room

with some of his masterpieces,
we discover

a room called "Reworking"
presenting Munch

as an enthusiastic copier

of his own paintings.

Katia looks at
The Sick Child.

Benjamin and Arman are mesmerized
by a version of Puberty.

As for me,
I go into a third room

to find his first
photographic self-portraits.

In these works,
he depicted himself alone

before his paintings

or seated a table
with, in the foreground,

a figure,
a governess, a friend.

One of them is called
Self Portrait as Marat

I read that it was taken
in the clinic in Copenhagen

where he was treated for depression.

In the 1920s, Munch,
after a very long break,

began to do self-portraits again.

He's an old man now.

There is no mise en scène now.

His outstretched hands
holding the camera,

he simply photographs
his anguished face.

The exhibition ends
with the artist's final sketches.

A vascular accident
and a haemorrhage in his right eye

have affected his sight.

He decides to reproduce graphically

what he sees
through his poorly eye.

I go into this room
at the same time as Katia.

Benjamin and Arman are waiting for us
before one of these works.

Benjamin leans towards Katia

and I read on his lips:

"This is the CVA room."

I made pasta,
pasta a la carbonara.

It's a safe bet.

Just like our gifts for Amélie.

A black Agnès B. top
and a bonsai.

The bonsai was my idea.

I stood firm despite
Katia's reservations:

"No one manages to keep
a bonsai alive for more than a year."

When drinking my armagnac,

I look at the bonsai
on the coffee table

next to the black Agnès B top.

I don't know if
it was Katia's remark

or the dark thoughts
I've had regularly since my CVA,

but I have the strange impression

that it is starting to die

right before our eyes.

Have you seen the bonsai?

What about it?

Well... Don't you think
it looks weird?

It's the lightning.
The bonsai is fine!

Maybe you should water it, Amélie?

If you like.

We watered it earlier.

You shouldn't water bonsais too much.

1In the last metro

We take the last metro home.
It's almost empty.

At Bastille,
a young man gets in our carriage.

His face is vaguely familiar.

He is one of the guys
who almost killed me.

It's the small guy
who stabbed me.

I hold his gaze.

I can read his.

He gets off quickly.

On my knees,

in a plastic bag,

the bonsai is dying.

I watch Amélie open the shutters.

I think to myself
what a happy life we have.

That we're a couple
and she is my dearest friend.

She turns. The lights behind her.
I can't see her expression.

I imagine she's smiling at me.

Unless she's adopted
her serious face,

when her brow is furrowed.

I imagine she's looking at me
and thinking of us,

of the long journey
since we first met,

of the ordeals we've survived.

Maybe she's even thinking
of the future.

Subtitles: Eclair Group