Crimson Curtain (1952) - full transcript
CRIMSON CURTAIN
Murder squad
Detectives' office
- Hello, sir!
- Hello, Léon.
It's a chilly morning.
Was it a long night?
It was a night
Long or short, a night's a night.
He only confessed at 5 a.m.
Have you got the paper?
When I get home,
the kids will have left for school.
Oh well...
That's the way it is.
Well, well!
She's dead.
- One of your cases?
- Yes.
It was a grim story.
And Macbeth is on again
at the same theatre.
How ironic!
What's Macbeth'?
- A play. By Shakespeare.
- I don't know it.
I didn't either.
Gobinet and I promised
we'd read all his plays.
The play helped us
catch the culprits.
I didn't read them in the end,
of course.
Nor did Gobinet, of course.
That's life.
Poor girl.
That story...
began three years ago.
- The play had just opened.
- Mac... beth?
That's right.
Macbeth's wife persuades him
to kill a guy
so that he can take his place.
Our two characters would do the same.
There were two of them:
her and her lover.
They were rehearsing the play.
She played Lady Macbeth
and her lover played opposite her.
Peace.
It was the owl, the fatal bellman
Which gives the stern'st good-night.
He is about it.
The surfeited grooms are snoring:
I have drugg'd their possets.
Death and nature contend about
whether they live or die.
Who's there?
What, ho!
Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,
and 'tis not done.
The attempt confounds us,
and not the deed.
Berta! was directing them.
We never found out exactly what
was going on between them.
Drugs and blackmailing,
something that glued
the three of them together,
and it certainly wasn't love.
Or maybe it was.
This bloody life
doesn't make any sense.
- Who lies in the second chamber?
- Donalbain.
- This is a sorry sight.
- No!
No, that was no good, my dears.
It was downright bad, actually.
Rehearsing five days
after the dress rehearsal is a pain,
but we're here to perform a play,
so we must perform it.
First that "my husband" wasn't right.
You made him bump off the old man.
You got your Macbeth all pumped up.
You know that he's scared
but that it has to be done
so that he can be king
and you can be queen.
But you love him.
You love your Macbeth, hear me?
This "my husband"
should come from your guts!
You made your man kill someone!
But he's also your baby.
You know that he's shaking
and that his hand isn't steady.
He's your child
and he has to face danger alone
for the first time.
"My husband!"
All this has to be in it!
My husband!
That's better.
It isn't so difficult, is it?
Imagine you just killed me
and you're finally going to be able
to love each other.
That might put you on track.
Go on, keep going!
I want to feel it in my guts!
Who lies I' the second chamber?
Donalbain.
This is a sorry sight.
No, pal.
Don't make a disgusted face.
That's not shit on your hands,
it's blood.
You're being obnoxious, Lucien!
I'm not a kid from your class!
I've been doing this for 20 years.
Exactly:
that's long enough to realise
that it's a difficult job.
This isn't cinema:
being natural isn't enough.
On stage, you have to
show people you're acting.
Look, my dears,
I will give you a tip.
Imagine you've killed
the troublemaker in front of you.
Forget the past!
Old Bertal won't keep you
from loving each other anymore!
Aurélia is finally
wholly yours and yours only!
It's easy to imagine, isn't it?
It's my blood on your hands,
my dear Ludo,
nice and red.
This is a sorry sight.
A foolish thought,
to say a sorry sight.
Go get some water,
and wash this filthy witness
from your hands.
It is only blood.
Alright, that was better.
That's because in real life, you are
more determined than him, Aurelia,
as in the play.
Deep down, really deep down,
Macbeth is a coward.
And he knows it.
And he knows that I know it.
Bastard.
Yes, and alive too.
Annoying, isn't it?
Don't brag about it too much.
One isn't always alive.
Don't make me laugh!
Look at me, look at him,
look at yourself.
Let life, drugs, disorder
and exhaustion do their job,
one last touch...
This was all charming
but it's quite worn out now.
Look at the three of us.
We're not fit for a love story.
People don't kill each other
at our age, pet, they endure.
Go and have a bite to eat.
The curtain goes up in an hour.
I'll let you have a romantic meal
on your own.
Isn't that nice?
I can't take it anymore.
He'll always be between us.
Forget him.
Come, we have an hour alone together.
Mister Bertal?
What do you want?
Bugger off, I have no time for you.
You promised I would be
the understudy for the king.
I must have been very drunk.
Bugger off.
I don't want to see you anymore!
We went to the Odéon together.
And came out.
We had high hopes.
We played all the classics!
Remember?
The only thing I remember
is that you were a terrible actor
and you still are.
I know you're harsh, but you have
a pure heart, deep down.
"Deep down"?
There's nothing deep in Bertal, fool.
You act like a donkey. Bugger off!
No, Mr Bertal. I'm going to die!
Well, die then! Good riddance!
It's not even true! I am talented!
I have a suitcase full of articles
saying I am!
You try to stifle me
because I'm better than you!
Who got the 1st prize for tragedy
when you were only 5th?
Who?
Take a look at this! I'll kill him.
I'll kill your boss before I die!
If you had seen me on stage,
you wouldn't laugh.
"Don't say another word, it's rude.
"Keep your secret
and keep your money.
"I understand
people stealing and killing,
"people escaping from prison
in the dark night..."
Great, now go somewhere else.
We're setting the stage.
You little thug. You're all the same.
Theatre has had it.
- Do you want to eat something?
- No.
I'm not hungry.
I would rather go for a walk.
These scenes kill me.
We can't go on like this.
No, we can't.
- My darling.
- My love.
I love you.
It's nice to think
that it will last forever.
Even when we're old.
We'll never be old.
See, our bench is taken.
Look at us: we were the same
when we were in Dulin's class.
Brand new, unspoiled...
Shiny. We believed in so many things.
We were foolish.
No, we were foolish later,
when I let him take you away from me.
Old Dulin...
He would give me 6 francs
for a walk-on role.
We didn't eat, we had hope,
we were happy.
You always played guards.
You're somebody now.
You're playing a king.
"Somebody"?
This wreck covered with flowers,
like a corpse,
is that what you call "being somebody"?
Getting old is horrible.
We have to go, it's past 8.
What did your mother say last night?
She didn't hear me come in.
Don't go back to him. Let's run away.
There'll be a train at midnight.
We'll take it.
We've already done that three times.
And then we came back.
- Not this time.
- Yes.
Do you realize what you
will need to buy in every town?
You can't just walk into a chemist's
and get it.
Drugs are expensive.
Within two weeks,
we'll have spent all our money,
and one morning,
the morning when you'll start
being scared of suffering,
he'll be there, smiling,
on our doorstep,
and you will only think about
that white powder
- in his hand, for you.
- No.
Yes.
You won't even think of me
and we'll go home with him,
once more.
You're at his mercy.
It will never end.
No, it won't.
As long as he's alive.
- Another one.
- No, Mr Sigurd.
You've already had three,
plus samples.
That's enough.
Who do you think I am?
A supporting role?
I've had more drinks than you
in my life.
I've been drunk on stage
hundreds of times!
And yet I'm talented.
You should've seen me on tour
in the South-West with Flambeau.
I was drunk every night.
And only on red plonk.
That's how I captivated them.
Another one.
Alright, don't make a scandal.
It's the last one.
"And us, small,
"anonymous nobodies.
"We walked, although wounded,
exhausted, muddy, unhealthy,
"with no hope for dukedoms
or emoluments.
"We kept on walking
but never got anywhere.
"We were too simple and destitute
for hope to divert us
"from this famous staff
we all have in our cartridge box."
What a bastard.
Excuse me, pumpkin.
You are Mrs Bertal.
I shouldn't say this in front of you.
But he's still a bastard.
Is that news to you?
Mister Ludo,
he doesn't want me as an understudy.
A man of such talent as I!
I starred in
La Grande Coupable in Rouen!
In Alsace d'abord! in Lausanne!
It was already degrading,
but to think he said no...
He doesn't like you, pal.
You're not the only one.
Yet there is one thing
he doesn't know:
I'm going to kill him.
So we'll use the tape recorder.
You can just talk while you put
your make-up on.
You're a pain.
We're going on stage in 45 minutes.
I know, but we're doing our job.
It will air tomorrow at noon.
Why would your listeners care
about my opinion on Macbeth?
They don't give a damn.
It has all been said already.
Talk about how you see the play!
They like you more than Shakespeare.
You're much more famous than he is.
Exactly:
if they want my take on the play,
let them see it.
Don't be mean.
It'll only take 5 minutes.
Go on, plug it.
Statement by Mr Bertal on Macbeth.
Five, four, three, two, one, zero.
I had dreamt of staging Macbeth
for years.
It's one of Shakespeare's
bleakest and roughest plays.
Macbeth is the grim story of a crime.
Nothing more.
But around that crime,
there is Shakespeare's beautiful,
dark poetry.
Aren't you feeling well, sir?
No, not quite.
Excuse me, I don't know what's wrong.
I need to lie down.
We can come back later, sir,
we just need the tape tonight.
And I need to go on stage!
You stick like leeches, lads!
Let me keep your machine.
I'll do this alone later on.
- You can have it back at midnight.
- OK.
Do you know how it works?
Just press here and speak.
- I know. Now get out of here.
- See you later.
We'll be back at midnight!
- Tired, sir?
- Yes.
- Is it the rehearsal?
- No.
Did Sigurd make a scene?
- Who told you?
- Lucien.
I heard he threatened you.
A lot of guys have wanted to kill me
in the past, you know.
I'm still here.
Tired, but still here.
- You work too much.
- One can never work too much.
What else is there to do
on this bloody planet?
Maybe I'm tired of being a bastard.
You like me, but you're the only one.
Why is that?
You taught me everything.
You were always great with me.
With you, maybe, but only with you.
Men are strange beings, laddie.
- I'm a swine.
- Sir!
I am a swine! Everybody says so.
But I was always good to you.
Why is that?
You thought I was worth encouraging?
No!
I destroyed more talented people
just to see the look
on their stupid face
when I told them
they were terrible actors.
You came later.
Maybe people become softer
when they get old, like melons.
That's called becoming a good person.
I thought you liked me.
I've never liked anyone.
Maybe I like this job,
but I'm not even sure.
Painting your face every night...
I'm tired. I'm getting sentimental.
Go now.
Get dressed!
It's starting in half an hour!
Tell Pierrette
to bring me more coffee.
Do you need anything else?
Yes: to be alone.
Alright, sir.
An old bastard, indeed.
Older and older, actually.
Let me.
The kid is heartbroken tonight.
Theatre can get under your skin.
It's worse than girls.
I'll kill him!
What surprises me...
is that we didn't think of it earlier.
The girl was the most curious
of the two.
At the trial, people identified her
as Lady Macbeth.
It didn't do her any favours.
And, at bottom,
she had made Ludovic do it.
Yet she had left the bar
because she hated that show-off
speaking of killing Bertal.
Women never know
exactly what they want.
Did Bertal still love her?
I believe he did, in his own way.
He tried to keep her near
to get as hurt as possible.
Macbeth is the grim story of a crime.
Nothing more.
But around that crime,
there is Shakespeare's beautiful,
dark poetry.
What is a crime anyway,
if not the natural conclusion
of every human adventure?
We are all poor animals of prey,
and only our congenital cowardice
keeps us from carrying
our intentions into effect.
This is why rather few crimes
are tried, in the end.
There are brutal, bloody crimes,
and there are slow crimes, too,
in which every blow
is precise and quiet,
and not a single drop of blood is shed,
but the killing is still done.
Sometimes because
you're still in love...
Hands up!
- Did you really shoot?
- No.
Where is the body?
On the first floor,
above the dressing room, detective.
Ludovic Harn, the new manager.
It's a tragedy.
- Is it this way?
- Yes.
Go ahead.
Did you see that, sir?
Two bullets in the neck.
He died instantly.
He was hit on the forehead.
Keep it.
Drink this, Miss Aurélia.
You must be in shock.
To think
I was bringing him a coffee...
It's a good thing you didn't see him.
His face looked like pulp.
A man you once loved
isn't like just any other man.
Same with me:
when they brought my man back...
He had been crushed
by a machine he was cleaning.
That was in 1937.
We had argued that morning.
I was packing my bags.
But when I saw he was dead,
it did something to me.
Shut up.
Drink it while it's hot.
Your coffee getting cold
won't change a thing.
What I mean is that
in cases like these,
it's better not to see them.
- So?
- These procedures are disgusting.
That's what I was saying!
When they brought my man back...
Get out of here.
Mister Ludo!
Are we giving refunds or playing?
Tell Léonard he's standing in.
Ask the detective
if we're allowed to play.
In any case, we'll play tomorrow.
People don't die at the theatre.
It couldn't last.
I even thought I was the one
who had shot him.
- Did you seen anyone?
- No.
You did!
Someone walked through the corridor.
- Could you recognize him?
- Yes.
It must've been a man.
Or a woman.
Take them.
What about you?
Did you see anyone up there?
The first time, Mr Laurent was there.
A reliable young man.
That's rare in the profession!
Is that all?
Mr Ludo came up at one point,
but he came down with me.
Oh, I know!
In the courtyard,
I met Mr Sigurd, who was about
to go up to see him.
Are you the stage manager?
- Yes, sir.
- Do you know that Sigurd?
He's an old jobless actor.
He would always ask the boss favours
and always get kicked out.
They had a row this afternoon.
- Were you there?
- No.
- OK, see you later.
- Sir...
Can we still play
or do we have to give refunds?
If you can play without him, play!
- We have an understudy.
- Do your job then.
But no one leaves this place
until the investigation is over.
It's his face! It's exactly his face!
Hey, lads, look!
You lucky man.
"Lucky"?
I've been waiting for two years.
The bastard was never even ill.
Hey, he's dead!
So he's no longer a bastard?
He's a dead bastard!
A dead bastard doesn't deserve
more respect than a live one!
He really was a bastard...
And with everyone, too.
Shouting at pupils at the studio
is customary,
but he was the same with everyone.
He gave Ludo a rough time.
Ludo, who got offered new roles
all the time?
He should've rebelled.
Something tied them together.
He was at Bertal's mercy.
He could get him into jail.
Yet Ludo was chasing his wife!
Bertal let him,
so that he controlled him.
And he forced her to come back
to his own bed every night.
A real bastard!
How do you know that?
Were you there?
Through his maid, you fool.
She's my girl.
So, are you still terrible actors,
my dears?
He had been acting strange.
He knew something was going on.
He was a good director
but he wasn't doing anything new.
When he staged Néron again,
it found it very dated.
He left us at the right time.
He was finished.
- Because of drugs?
- Drugs and hatred.
- He was dying of hatred.
- Shut up!
You're rotten.
His body is still warm upstairs.
You were all scared of him.
If he came back,
you would crawl.
So, are you still terrible actors,
my dears?
It's unbelievable!
You look exactly like him.
And I was bringing him a coffee.
On stage for act one! On stage!
Sir! Look at these dolls.
Careful!
OK.
Does this lead to the stage?
Yes, sir.
- Hey, that's the curtain!
- Sorry.
- Do you have the key?
- Yes.
Keep it. I'm the only one
who can go through tonight.
Other exits?
Two doors, one on each end.
Are they the ones you showed me?
- Yes, sir.
- Let's take a look.
- They're nice, aren't they?
- So-so.
- What's on tonight?
- Macbeth.
- Is it fun?
- It's alright.
What are they doing on their perch?
- So?
- You can lift it.
Hey, over there!
The curtain's going up!
- What are you doing?
- Can't you see? Wind!
When shall we three meet again
in thunder and rain?
When the battle's lost and won.
That will be ere the sunset.
Upon the heath,
there to meet with Macbeth.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
Hover through the fog and filthy air.
- Is something broken?
- No, they're changing the set.
This Macbeth thing looks fun.
- It's the story of a crime.
- That's my field.
I'd be curious to see how you
deal with crime in the theatre.
What bloody man is that?
He can report,
as seemeth by his plight,
of the revolt the newest state.
Say to the king
the knowledge of the broil.
Did he ever mention Sigurd?
Yes: this very night
Sigurd had threatened him.
Was he the type to take revenge?
He was a waverer.
If he were pushed
by somebody else, maybe.
...carved out his passage
through the enemies.
He fought the most disloyal traitor,
the thane of Cawdor, in single combat.
And, to conclude,
the victory fell on us.
A drum, a drum!
Macbeth doth come.
Peace!
The charm's wound up.
So foul and fair a day
I have not seen.
What are these so wither'd
and so wild in their attire,
that look not like the inhabitants
0' the earth, and yet are on't?
Are you aught that man may question?
Speak, if you can: what are you?
All hail, Macbeth!
Hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
All hail, Macbeth!
Hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!
All hail, Macbeth,
thou shalt be king hereafter!
What are they saying?
That he will be thane of Cawdor,
then king.
He doesn't understand.
The king sends him a messenger
to make him thane of Cawdor
instead of the traitor he defeated.
- Follow me?
- Yes.
Then he knows the witches are right
and all he has to do is kill
the old man to become king.
Save your breath. I understand.
As soon as I saw him,
I knew he was going to do it.
Of course it will be big news!
He was also a film actor, so...
Not before tomorrow's papers, though.
I will catch the fellow before morning.
Someone saw him running away.
No, not yet.
They're out looking for him.
Yes, tell me.
My thought, whose murder yet
is but fantastical...
Sorry?
Shit!
No, sir, sorry. It's that thing.
A loudspeaker they have
in their dressing room.
I'm trying to switch it off but I can't!
There we are! Sorry, sir.
They'll bring me the fellow.
I'll get his confession by morning.
You can go out and forget about it.
The Casino de Paris? Good!
It'll be more fun than this play.
So Macbeth is a good play?
I didn't know it.
Theatre isn't my thing, you know.
But don't worry, it'll be a doddle!
Good night.
O worthiest cousin...
For Chrissakes!
Vernier!
Yes, sir?
Destroy that thing, will you?
- Where is Gobinet ?
- Watching.
He's pitching it a bit high!
Gobinet is no Einstein.
Yet he was right
to pay attention to the play.
For the whole evening,
the two devils
would relive their crime on stage.
Who's that doll?
She has a funny face.
Macbeth's wife.
She will make him do it.
I thought so.
Us policemen have a quick eye.
Glamis thou art,
and Cawdor,
and shalt be what thou art promised.
Yet do I fear thy nature, Macbeth,
too full 0' the milk
of human kindness
to catch the nearest way.
Thou wouldst not play false,
and yet wouldst win.
Hou'ld'st have
but thou dost fear to do
what thou must do.
I will assist thee.
Come, you spirits that tend
on mortal thoughts,
fill me from the crown...
I've seen a thousand dolls like that
in my profession.
The silly fools who listen to them
get in trouble.
- They both die in the play.
- Good.
Is that the way you work?
I'm on another case.
This doll persuaded her fellow
to ice the old man
in their period bungalow.
Great Glamis! Worthy Cawdor!
Greater than both,
by the all-hail hereafter!
Thy letter hath transported me
beyond this blind present,
and I live in the future.
My dearest love,
Duncan comes here to-night.
And when goes hence?
Tomorrow...
as he purposes.
O, never shall sun that morrow see!
- Was she Bertal's wife?
- Well... yes.
They lived together.
The girl must have nerve
to play when her man
has just been killed.
Come on, you. We have our fellow.
Once he confesses,
will you let me watch the play?
- Are you the old man?
- Yes.
Careful not to get hurt
when you fall down.
See, see, our honoured hostess!
The love that follows us
sometime is our trouble,
which still we thank
as love.
Herein I teach you how you shall
bid God 'ild us for your pains
and thank us for your trouble.
- No!
- You have to.
Isn't it disgusting?
Sir, our friend is being shy.
He has something to tell you.
Well, speak!
Old Sigurd wasn't a bad guy.
Just a loudmouth.
They want me to tell you
that he showed me a gun.
It looked second-hand.
Is it this one?
Yes.
Good.
Thank you.
We're getting there,
but let's keep a cool head.
Bring me those two when you can.
- So I can stay here?
- Yes.
I should've stayed in the wings
with Gobinet.
I only had to listen
to find out how they went about it.
If it were done when 'tis done,
'twere well it were done quickly.
He's here in double trust.
I am his host.
I should repulse his murderer,
not bear the knife.
He has almost supp'd.
Why have you left the chamber?
- Hath he ask'd for me?
- Know you not he has?
We will proceed no further
in this business.
Was the hope drunk
wherein you dress'd yourself?
From this time I account thy love
as brittle as thy hope.
I dare not.
You have sworn to, my lord.
I have given suck,
and know how tender 'tis
to love the babe that milks me.
I would,
while it was smiling in my face,
have plucked my nipple
from his boneless gums
and dashed the brains out,
had I so sworn as you
have done to this.
If we should fail?
We, fail?
When Duncan is asleep,
whereto his day's hard journey
soundly inviteth him,
with wine and wassail will I
his two chamberlains so convince
that memory,
the warder of the brain,
shall be a fume.
When in swinish sleep
their drenched natures
lie as in a death,
what cannot you and I perform
upon the unguarded Duncan?
We will mark with blood
those sleepy two of his chamber
and use their very daggers.
It will be received
that they have done't.
Who dares receive it other,
as we shall make our griefs
and clamour roar upon his death?
Well, I am settled.
Away,
and mock the time with fairest show.
You two really are bastards.
Is that how you decided to kill
the old man?
The inspector
wants to interrogate you.
He's in the stage manager's office.
Come in.
Thank you for coming.
Leave us, Gobinet, will you?
Have a seat.
We'll have a cigarette together,
during the intermission,
and simply have a chat.
- Is it a good performance?
- Yes...
Aren't the actors
affected by the tragedy?
In this profession, you play anyway.
And as soon as you're on stage,
only the character counts.
You forget what you said
or did 30 minutes ago.
- It's the only way.
- How remarkable.
- I hear it's a good play.
- Don't you know it?
Policemen have no time to read.
They're mainly interested
in living characters.
Characters from the theatre
can kill whoever they want
as long as the body comes back
to life after the performance.
We only become curious
when the body stays down
after the curtain's lowered.
Like tonight.
I go to the cinema, mostly.
It's cheaper.
And to the Chatelet twice a year,
with my kids.
I had never been backstage.
You hear so many things backstage,
when the play is being performed
1 metre away.
The people in the audience
wouldn't believe it.
I heard you were Bertal's partner.
Yes. Everyone in Paris knows that.
I didn't.
What you call "Paris"
is not what I call "Paris".
3 million people live here,
and 2,9 million don't give a hoot
about what goes on in "Paris".
You are also Mr Ham's lover,
aren't you?
This isn't anybody's business.
It was his, wasn't it?
And he's dead,
so it's no one's business.
But as I have to take care of him,
it's my business too.
I'm not jumping to conclusions,
but put yourself in my shoes:
it made me feel
like having a chat with you.
He wasn't liked in the theatre.
No, he wasn't.
What a strange character!
He was harsh, violent, unfair...
aggressive.
He enjoyed torturing
whoever was under his thumb.
He did.
- Did you like him?
- No.
But you did keep working with him
for 10 years.
I know, work is one thing,
feelings are another.
Actually, some of my superiors...
Anyway-
You were his partner for years.
So sorry if I'm being tactless:
- did you love him?
- No.
But you were free.
You weren't married.
In your profession,
couples are temporary.
Why didn't you try to leave him?
Why did you come back
to him every night?
- I had no choice.
- Did he demand it?
Yes.
Couldn't you reject that demand?
No.
Life is always more complicated
than you think.
He did know about you and Mr Harn?
Yes.
And he accepted it.
Yes.
Why did he?
I'm curious.
It is intriguing.
I don't know.
Does Mr Harn know?
No.
You loved each other.
Then why did you tolerate it?
That's what I want to know.
I know, such are the mysteries of life.
But us policemen are a bit slow
and we like to hear explanations.
Why did you tolerate each other
and torture each other so much
when it would have been
so simple to end it?
And without a dead body, either.
They always get in the way
afterwards.
Yes?
Sir!
We found Sigurd in a bar.
He confessed to all of it!
He's in the dressing room.
Alright, wait, I'm coming.
Well,
this story is going to end
very simply:
we've caught the murderer.
In 2 hours,
the body will be in the morgue,
and tomorrow, you will
perform the play as usual.
That's life.
Death and oblivion.
Thank you.
I have a sensitive chest
and there are draughts here.
One dead body is enough for tonight.
Please excuse my curiosity,
but none of us are angels.
Sigurd did do you a big favour,
didn't he?
You didn't want it to go that far,
but still...
I'm happy for you, really.
I'm always on the side of love.
The old man hasn't even been dead
for two hours
and we pick up the guy
in a bar nearby!
Now we just need him
to sign his confession.
Yes, that was good work.
Although, you see,
maybe I'm being contaminated
by theatre
but this conclusion is too simple.
It lacks imagination.
Yes, but we'll be able
to get some sleep.
That's true.
What I'm worried about is the play.
I wonder how
they're going to get caught.
Once we have the signature,
you can watch the play.
- I can't do this anymore.
- You can't? I can.
I can't play that scene.
"That's not shit on your hands,
it's blood."
Shut up.
Oh, you're here?
I was looking for you.
- Act 2 is starting.
- We're coming.
Come on.
- How goes the night?
- I have not heard the clock.
- The moon is down.
- She goes down at twelve.
I take't, 'tis later, sir.
Hold, take my sword.
There's husbandry in heaven.
Their candles are all out.
A heavy summons
lies like lead upon me,
and yet I would not sleep.
The devil isn't doing too badly.
How did he manage
to change his face like that?
He looks like him!
I can't play opposite that face.
You have to. Go!
Give me my sword.
Who's there?
A friend.
What, sir, not yet at rest?
The king's a-bed.
He hath been in unusual pleasure.
This diamond
he greets your wife withal,
by the name of most kind hostess.
All's Well.
I dreamt last night
of the three weird sisters.
To you they have show'd some truth.
- What's wrong?
- He's forgotten his line.
Quick.
"Not to think of them, sir.
"Yet, when we can entreat
an hour to serve..."
Not to think of them, sir.
Yet, when we can entreat
an hour to serve,
we would spend it
in some words upon that business.
If you shall cleave to my consent,
when 'tis,
it shall make honour for you.
Phew, that was close.
What happened?
Do you recognise this?
Yes, I do.
- What was he doing?
- He was talking.
- Wasn't he alone?
- Yes, he was.
He was recording something,
probably for an interview.
He had a taste for publicity.
- What was he saying?
- I wasn't listening.
I shouted:
"You're jealous of my talent
"but you'll pay for it!"
He got up,
he shouted that I was drunk
and he tried to kick me out!
I was drunk indeed,
but I hate being brutalised.
I hit him with my gun, he fell,
and I fired.
How many times?
I don't know.
I drunk all night to forget:
it worked.
Do you feel sorry?
I've played Don Diégue
and several Roman emperors
in various tragedies.
I do not feel sorry!
To say it better:
my life is over,
so is his.
I forgive him, like Augustus.
"Take a seat, Cinna, take it,
"and on everything..."
- Enough.
- Don't you like Corneille?
Enough, I said.
Read this and sign it.
Corneille isn't very popular now.
Maybe you prefer Racine?
Nonsense!
Racine is a woman:
"if I love you, beware."
Racine is Carmen.
Corneille is a man.
Read this and sign it.
I advise you to stop being foolish.
I'm not being foolish:
I'm sharing my literary opinions.
It's my right, isn't it?
This is poorly written.
Poor France.
- Vernier!
- Detective?
Cart him off.
And ask for this to be taken away.
Please...
I'm going to have a bite to eat.
You can watch the end of the play.
- We'll meet here.
- Thank you, sir.
- So?
- They're about to do it.
Just in time.
That hath made them drunk
and me bold.
What hath quench'd them
hath given me fire.
Hark!
Peace!
It was the owl, the fatal bellman
which gives the stern'st good-night.
He is about it.
The surfeited grooms are snoring:
I have drugg'd their possets.
Death and nature contend about
whether they live or die.
Who's there?
What, ho!
Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,
and 'tis not done.
The attempt confounds us,
and not the deed.
I had done't
had he not resembled
my father as he slept.
My husband!
You love your Macbeth, hear me?
This "my husband"
should come from your guts!
My husband!
That's better.
Who lies I' the second chamber?
Donalbain.
This is a sorry sight.
That's not shit on your hands,
it's blood.
A foolish thought,
to say a sorry sight.
There's one did laugh in's sleep,
and one cried "Murder!"
that they did wake each other.
I stood and heard them
but they did say their prayers,
and address'd them again to sleep.
There are two lodged together?
One cried "God bless us!"
and "Amen" the other,
as they had seen me
with these hangman's hands.
I could not say "Amen"
when they did say "God bless us!"
Consider it not so deeply.
But wherefore could not I
pronounce "Amen"?
I had most need of blessing
and "Amen" stuck in my throat.
Consider it not so deeply,
so it will make us mad.
Methought I heard a voice cry:
"Sleep no more!
"Macbeth does murder sleep,
"the innocent sleep."
Come and see this.
"Sleep that knits up
the sleeve of care."
Still it cried to all the house:
"Sleep no more!
"Glamis hath murder'd sleep,
"and therefore Cawdor
shall sleep no more.
"Macbeth shall sleep no more."
Who would have thought:
he was sitting at this very table
having a drink
with Mr Ludo and Miss Aurélia.
They were together?
He had come to drink alone.
As he was feeling low after the scene
with Mr Bertal,
Mr Ludo told him
to come to his table.
Really?
And what did he say to them?
- Your omelette is excellent.
- Cheese and bacon.
Only there's a knack to it.
Well, you definitely seem to have it.
I wouldn't want to leave any.
So what did Harn say?
When you're talking to a drunk,
it's better to agree.
He said:
"Alright, he's a bastard,
"and he's influential.
"When he decides
to destroy someone...
"Don't you see
that you're getting less work?"
Interesting.
The Beaujolais is excellent too.
I'm glad I came here tonight.
Have you consider'd of my speeches?
Know that it was he
which held you so under fortune.
I will prove
how you were borne in hand,
how cross'd,
and you will have to say:
"Thus did Banquo."
"Our destitution is his doing."
You made it known to us.
Who is he trying to get killed now?
- It's me, you charlie.
- Oh, sorry.
Is your patience so predominant,
are you so gospell'd to pray
for this man whose heavy hand
hath bow'd you to the grave?
Will the three of you assist me?
My enemy is yours too.
His being thrusts against my life.
He's doing it again!
Of course!
His friend knows too much.
He was with him when he was told
that he would be king.
So now Macbeth suspects
that he suspects him.
They're all going to die.
It's a massacre.
The boss is asking for you
at the bar.
You'll tell me what happens next.
What's going on in your play?
You're not doing much.
The plot thickens.
Macbeth is persuading two fools
that the old man is responsible
for everything and should be killed.
How strange.
Similar ideas came to me
when I was eating my omelette.
Maybe life is as subtle as theatre
in the end.
Let's go.
The west yet glimmers
with some streaks of day.
Now spurs the lated traveller apace
to gain the timely inn.
And near approaches
the subject of our watch.
Hark!
I hear horses.
Then 'tis he:
the rest already are I' the court.
A light!
- 'Tis he.
- Stand to't.
It will be rain to-night.
Let it come down!
O, treachery!
Fly, good Fleance, fly!
Fly! Thou mayst revenge.
O slave!
Who stroke out the light?
There's but one down.
The son is fled.
Do you suspect them, sir?
If they were guilty,
they would get flustered on stage.
Maybe they are getting flustered!
You should be in the wings!
Is that how you work?
Let's go and see the play.
I'm getting interested in theatre.
At first and last
the hearty welcome.
You know your own degrees.
Sit down.
Thanks to your majesty.
Both sides are even:
here I'll sit I' the midst.
Be large in mirth.
Anon we'll drink a measure
the table round.
There's blood on thy face.
'Tis old Banquo's then.
'Tis better thee without
than he within.
- Is he dispatch'd?
- His throat is cut.
That I did for him.
Thou art the best 0' the cut-throats.
To-morrow, thou shalt be rewarded.
Here had we now
our country's honour roof'd,
were the graced person
of our Banquo present,
who may I rather challenge for...
- What's going on now?
- It's the banquet scene.
Macbeth sees the ghost of his victim
sit down at the table.
He goes mad with terror.
Very interesting.
Do these things
still work in the theatre?
It was becoming too easy:
the ghost in the play
would be a real ghost for him,
the spitting image of his victim.
He wasn't just going to fake terror,
he was really going to be terrified.
Now,
good digestion wait on appetite,
and health on both!
May't please your highness sit.
- The table's full.
- Here is a place reserved, sir.
- Where?
- Here.
What is't that moves your highness?
This man does bear
an uncanny resemblance with Bertal.
Which of you have done this?
- What.
- My good lord...
Thou canst not say I did it.
Never shake thy gory locks at me.
Rise:
his highness is not well.
Sit, worthy friends.
My lord is often thus,
and hath been from his youth.
The fit is momentary.
Upon a thought he will again be well.
If much you note him, you shall
offend him and extend his passion.
Feed, and regard him not.
Are you a man?
Ay, and a bold one,
facing that
which might appal the devil.
Why do you make such faces?
You look but on a stool.
Prithee, see there!
Behold!
How say you?
Why, what care I?
If thou canst nod, speak too.
If charnel-houses and our graves
must send those that we bury back,
our monuments
shall be the maws of kites.
What, quite unmann'd in folly?
Avaunt!
And quit my sight!
Let the earth hide thee!
Thy bones are marrowless.
Thy blood is cold.
Thou hast no speculation
in those glaring eyes!
Think of this, good peers,
but as an infirmity,
a thing of custom to his friends.
What man dare,
I dare.
Approach,
thou like the rugged Russian bear,
the arm'd rhinoceros,
or the bloodthirsty tiger.
My firm nerves shall never tremble.
Or be alive again,
and dare me to the desert
with thy sword.
If trembling I inhabit then,
protest me the baby of a girl.
Hence, horrible shadow!
Bastard.
You took Aurélia away from me.
You drugged me
so that I would became a wreck
and lose her.
Bastard.
Curtain!
Curtain!
Ladies and gentlemen,
please accept our apologies.
Ludovic Harn is not feeling well
so we had to lower the curtain.
After a short break,
our friend, who is already better,
will be fit to keep playing his part.
Please be patient for a few moments.
- It's a fit of nerves.
- Given today's events...
Don't stay around him like this.
Here comes the doctor!
- Does this happen often?
- No, it's the first time.
- Was his heart aching?
- No.
I'll give him an injection.
I've been waiting to play the part
for two years.
Now that I finally can,
that guy speaks over my line!
Theatre is a beautiful thing,
Gobinet.
Watch them.
I'll check on my man at the lock-up.
- Let no one leave the building.
- Right.
- You again?
- Yes.
I've been thinking,
and I wanted to see you to tell you:
you've convinced me about Corneille.
Really?
It was all worth it then.
You're a funny guy.
Why didn't you tell me
you were pushed into shooting him?
Act 5 is starting.
We'll be lucky to get the metro.
I live in Gennevilliers
so this is all quite funny to me.
- Have they started again?
- Yes, sir.
Here's the smell of the blood still.
All the perfumes of Arabia
will not sweeten this little hand.
- Is the girl on stage?
- Yes.
We'll take care of her
after her scene.
- We want to see Mr Bertal.
- You can't.
He's waiting!
We're from the radio.
He's dead!
- Dead? We saw him earlier.
- And then he got shot.
How awful... Poor guy.
Who did it?
You'll read it in the paper.
Drat! I wonder if he had time
to do our interview.
- Is that important?
- We're working!
- We need our machine!
- You can't get in.
- What's up?
- They want to go in.
- No journalists.
- We're from the radio.
We left our tape recorder
with Mr Bertal.
- We want it back.
- I don't care.
Will you go away?
It's not a good time.
Actually, I do care.
How does that thing work?
- There's...
- Come in.
So you think he recorded something.
When were you with him?
Between 8 and 8:15.
He was tired.
- Did he do any recording later?
- He promised to.
Could you play me the tape?
That's easy.
We had recorded about 40 seconds,
hadn't we?
Macbeth is the grim story of a crime.
Nothing more.
But around that crime,
there is Shakespeare's beautiful,
dark poetry.
What is a crime anyway,
if not the natural conclusion
of every human adventure?
We are all poor animals of prey,
and only our congenital cowardice
keeps us from carrying
our intentions into effect.
This is why rather few crimes
are tried, in the end.
There are brutal, bloody crimes,
and there are slow crimes, too,
in which every blow
is precise and quiet,
and not a single drop
of blood is shed,
but the killing is still done.
Sometimes because
you're still in love...
What do you want?
Get out!
You want to destroy me
because you're jealous of me
but you're going to pay now.
You're drunk!
Will you get out of here?
Are you checking whether I'm dead?
You sent him! You'll pay for this!
Ludo!
Enough!
Sigurd didn't kill him. We did.
Why did he confess?
He was drunk.
He hit his head with his gun
and then he fired.
But his gun jammed,
and he threw it down.
He ran away,
thinking he had killed him.
That's when I came in.
Bertal pounced on me,
covered in blood.
He wanted to strangle me.
I was scared, I screamed.
Ludo came in, picked up the gun,
and shot him.
Gobinet, take care of her.
I'll take care of the other one.
No! Ludo...
Ludo! It isn't true.
I didn't say it!
- What is that noise?
- It is the cry of women.
Let me see what happened.
I have almost forgot
the taste of fears.
Direness,
familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
cannot once start me.
- Wherefore was that cry?
- The queen is dead.
She should have died hereafter.
There would have been a time
for such a word.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow,
a poor player that struts
and frets upon the stage
and then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot,
full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.
Has he finished?
Not yet. Macbeth has to die.
He was to be killed by the kid
who liked the boss
and had guessed everything.
And now a wood
comes toward Dunsinane.
If thou speakest the truth,
no flying hence or tarrying here.
I gin to be aweary of the sun
and wish the world were now undone.
Ring the alarum-bell!
Blow, wind! Come, wrack!
At least we'll die
with harness on our back.
Be a sport
and I'll let you finish your scene.
They have tied me to a stake.
I cannot fly.
But, bear-like,
I must fight the course.
What's he, not born of woman?
Such a one am I to fear, or none.
Turn, hell-hound! Turn and fight!
She's in the van. We're ready for him.
It's the end.
I will not yield,
to be baited with the rabble's curse.
They were both shouting.
They were acting terribly.
You could tell that all they
were thinking about was Bertal.
Aurélia! Aurélia!
You'll see her again.
She isn't lost.
Hail, king, for so thou art.
Behold, where stands
the monster's cursed head.
The time is free.
Hail, King of Scotland!
Hail, King of Scotland!
Go off now!
They were so close
to each other in their cages,
yet they never saw
each other again on this Earth.
That's it.
- Now we can go to bed.
- I suppose so.
Poor devils, both of them.
Maybe the guy really was a bastard.
You never know with life.
In any case, sir,
that was a good play they performed.
Shakespeare.
I'll try to remember that name.
THE END
Murder squad
Detectives' office
- Hello, sir!
- Hello, Léon.
It's a chilly morning.
Was it a long night?
It was a night
Long or short, a night's a night.
He only confessed at 5 a.m.
Have you got the paper?
When I get home,
the kids will have left for school.
Oh well...
That's the way it is.
Well, well!
She's dead.
- One of your cases?
- Yes.
It was a grim story.
And Macbeth is on again
at the same theatre.
How ironic!
What's Macbeth'?
- A play. By Shakespeare.
- I don't know it.
I didn't either.
Gobinet and I promised
we'd read all his plays.
The play helped us
catch the culprits.
I didn't read them in the end,
of course.
Nor did Gobinet, of course.
That's life.
Poor girl.
That story...
began three years ago.
- The play had just opened.
- Mac... beth?
That's right.
Macbeth's wife persuades him
to kill a guy
so that he can take his place.
Our two characters would do the same.
There were two of them:
her and her lover.
They were rehearsing the play.
She played Lady Macbeth
and her lover played opposite her.
Peace.
It was the owl, the fatal bellman
Which gives the stern'st good-night.
He is about it.
The surfeited grooms are snoring:
I have drugg'd their possets.
Death and nature contend about
whether they live or die.
Who's there?
What, ho!
Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,
and 'tis not done.
The attempt confounds us,
and not the deed.
Berta! was directing them.
We never found out exactly what
was going on between them.
Drugs and blackmailing,
something that glued
the three of them together,
and it certainly wasn't love.
Or maybe it was.
This bloody life
doesn't make any sense.
- Who lies in the second chamber?
- Donalbain.
- This is a sorry sight.
- No!
No, that was no good, my dears.
It was downright bad, actually.
Rehearsing five days
after the dress rehearsal is a pain,
but we're here to perform a play,
so we must perform it.
First that "my husband" wasn't right.
You made him bump off the old man.
You got your Macbeth all pumped up.
You know that he's scared
but that it has to be done
so that he can be king
and you can be queen.
But you love him.
You love your Macbeth, hear me?
This "my husband"
should come from your guts!
You made your man kill someone!
But he's also your baby.
You know that he's shaking
and that his hand isn't steady.
He's your child
and he has to face danger alone
for the first time.
"My husband!"
All this has to be in it!
My husband!
That's better.
It isn't so difficult, is it?
Imagine you just killed me
and you're finally going to be able
to love each other.
That might put you on track.
Go on, keep going!
I want to feel it in my guts!
Who lies I' the second chamber?
Donalbain.
This is a sorry sight.
No, pal.
Don't make a disgusted face.
That's not shit on your hands,
it's blood.
You're being obnoxious, Lucien!
I'm not a kid from your class!
I've been doing this for 20 years.
Exactly:
that's long enough to realise
that it's a difficult job.
This isn't cinema:
being natural isn't enough.
On stage, you have to
show people you're acting.
Look, my dears,
I will give you a tip.
Imagine you've killed
the troublemaker in front of you.
Forget the past!
Old Bertal won't keep you
from loving each other anymore!
Aurélia is finally
wholly yours and yours only!
It's easy to imagine, isn't it?
It's my blood on your hands,
my dear Ludo,
nice and red.
This is a sorry sight.
A foolish thought,
to say a sorry sight.
Go get some water,
and wash this filthy witness
from your hands.
It is only blood.
Alright, that was better.
That's because in real life, you are
more determined than him, Aurelia,
as in the play.
Deep down, really deep down,
Macbeth is a coward.
And he knows it.
And he knows that I know it.
Bastard.
Yes, and alive too.
Annoying, isn't it?
Don't brag about it too much.
One isn't always alive.
Don't make me laugh!
Look at me, look at him,
look at yourself.
Let life, drugs, disorder
and exhaustion do their job,
one last touch...
This was all charming
but it's quite worn out now.
Look at the three of us.
We're not fit for a love story.
People don't kill each other
at our age, pet, they endure.
Go and have a bite to eat.
The curtain goes up in an hour.
I'll let you have a romantic meal
on your own.
Isn't that nice?
I can't take it anymore.
He'll always be between us.
Forget him.
Come, we have an hour alone together.
Mister Bertal?
What do you want?
Bugger off, I have no time for you.
You promised I would be
the understudy for the king.
I must have been very drunk.
Bugger off.
I don't want to see you anymore!
We went to the Odéon together.
And came out.
We had high hopes.
We played all the classics!
Remember?
The only thing I remember
is that you were a terrible actor
and you still are.
I know you're harsh, but you have
a pure heart, deep down.
"Deep down"?
There's nothing deep in Bertal, fool.
You act like a donkey. Bugger off!
No, Mr Bertal. I'm going to die!
Well, die then! Good riddance!
It's not even true! I am talented!
I have a suitcase full of articles
saying I am!
You try to stifle me
because I'm better than you!
Who got the 1st prize for tragedy
when you were only 5th?
Who?
Take a look at this! I'll kill him.
I'll kill your boss before I die!
If you had seen me on stage,
you wouldn't laugh.
"Don't say another word, it's rude.
"Keep your secret
and keep your money.
"I understand
people stealing and killing,
"people escaping from prison
in the dark night..."
Great, now go somewhere else.
We're setting the stage.
You little thug. You're all the same.
Theatre has had it.
- Do you want to eat something?
- No.
I'm not hungry.
I would rather go for a walk.
These scenes kill me.
We can't go on like this.
No, we can't.
- My darling.
- My love.
I love you.
It's nice to think
that it will last forever.
Even when we're old.
We'll never be old.
See, our bench is taken.
Look at us: we were the same
when we were in Dulin's class.
Brand new, unspoiled...
Shiny. We believed in so many things.
We were foolish.
No, we were foolish later,
when I let him take you away from me.
Old Dulin...
He would give me 6 francs
for a walk-on role.
We didn't eat, we had hope,
we were happy.
You always played guards.
You're somebody now.
You're playing a king.
"Somebody"?
This wreck covered with flowers,
like a corpse,
is that what you call "being somebody"?
Getting old is horrible.
We have to go, it's past 8.
What did your mother say last night?
She didn't hear me come in.
Don't go back to him. Let's run away.
There'll be a train at midnight.
We'll take it.
We've already done that three times.
And then we came back.
- Not this time.
- Yes.
Do you realize what you
will need to buy in every town?
You can't just walk into a chemist's
and get it.
Drugs are expensive.
Within two weeks,
we'll have spent all our money,
and one morning,
the morning when you'll start
being scared of suffering,
he'll be there, smiling,
on our doorstep,
and you will only think about
that white powder
- in his hand, for you.
- No.
Yes.
You won't even think of me
and we'll go home with him,
once more.
You're at his mercy.
It will never end.
No, it won't.
As long as he's alive.
- Another one.
- No, Mr Sigurd.
You've already had three,
plus samples.
That's enough.
Who do you think I am?
A supporting role?
I've had more drinks than you
in my life.
I've been drunk on stage
hundreds of times!
And yet I'm talented.
You should've seen me on tour
in the South-West with Flambeau.
I was drunk every night.
And only on red plonk.
That's how I captivated them.
Another one.
Alright, don't make a scandal.
It's the last one.
"And us, small,
"anonymous nobodies.
"We walked, although wounded,
exhausted, muddy, unhealthy,
"with no hope for dukedoms
or emoluments.
"We kept on walking
but never got anywhere.
"We were too simple and destitute
for hope to divert us
"from this famous staff
we all have in our cartridge box."
What a bastard.
Excuse me, pumpkin.
You are Mrs Bertal.
I shouldn't say this in front of you.
But he's still a bastard.
Is that news to you?
Mister Ludo,
he doesn't want me as an understudy.
A man of such talent as I!
I starred in
La Grande Coupable in Rouen!
In Alsace d'abord! in Lausanne!
It was already degrading,
but to think he said no...
He doesn't like you, pal.
You're not the only one.
Yet there is one thing
he doesn't know:
I'm going to kill him.
So we'll use the tape recorder.
You can just talk while you put
your make-up on.
You're a pain.
We're going on stage in 45 minutes.
I know, but we're doing our job.
It will air tomorrow at noon.
Why would your listeners care
about my opinion on Macbeth?
They don't give a damn.
It has all been said already.
Talk about how you see the play!
They like you more than Shakespeare.
You're much more famous than he is.
Exactly:
if they want my take on the play,
let them see it.
Don't be mean.
It'll only take 5 minutes.
Go on, plug it.
Statement by Mr Bertal on Macbeth.
Five, four, three, two, one, zero.
I had dreamt of staging Macbeth
for years.
It's one of Shakespeare's
bleakest and roughest plays.
Macbeth is the grim story of a crime.
Nothing more.
But around that crime,
there is Shakespeare's beautiful,
dark poetry.
Aren't you feeling well, sir?
No, not quite.
Excuse me, I don't know what's wrong.
I need to lie down.
We can come back later, sir,
we just need the tape tonight.
And I need to go on stage!
You stick like leeches, lads!
Let me keep your machine.
I'll do this alone later on.
- You can have it back at midnight.
- OK.
Do you know how it works?
Just press here and speak.
- I know. Now get out of here.
- See you later.
We'll be back at midnight!
- Tired, sir?
- Yes.
- Is it the rehearsal?
- No.
Did Sigurd make a scene?
- Who told you?
- Lucien.
I heard he threatened you.
A lot of guys have wanted to kill me
in the past, you know.
I'm still here.
Tired, but still here.
- You work too much.
- One can never work too much.
What else is there to do
on this bloody planet?
Maybe I'm tired of being a bastard.
You like me, but you're the only one.
Why is that?
You taught me everything.
You were always great with me.
With you, maybe, but only with you.
Men are strange beings, laddie.
- I'm a swine.
- Sir!
I am a swine! Everybody says so.
But I was always good to you.
Why is that?
You thought I was worth encouraging?
No!
I destroyed more talented people
just to see the look
on their stupid face
when I told them
they were terrible actors.
You came later.
Maybe people become softer
when they get old, like melons.
That's called becoming a good person.
I thought you liked me.
I've never liked anyone.
Maybe I like this job,
but I'm not even sure.
Painting your face every night...
I'm tired. I'm getting sentimental.
Go now.
Get dressed!
It's starting in half an hour!
Tell Pierrette
to bring me more coffee.
Do you need anything else?
Yes: to be alone.
Alright, sir.
An old bastard, indeed.
Older and older, actually.
Let me.
The kid is heartbroken tonight.
Theatre can get under your skin.
It's worse than girls.
I'll kill him!
What surprises me...
is that we didn't think of it earlier.
The girl was the most curious
of the two.
At the trial, people identified her
as Lady Macbeth.
It didn't do her any favours.
And, at bottom,
she had made Ludovic do it.
Yet she had left the bar
because she hated that show-off
speaking of killing Bertal.
Women never know
exactly what they want.
Did Bertal still love her?
I believe he did, in his own way.
He tried to keep her near
to get as hurt as possible.
Macbeth is the grim story of a crime.
Nothing more.
But around that crime,
there is Shakespeare's beautiful,
dark poetry.
What is a crime anyway,
if not the natural conclusion
of every human adventure?
We are all poor animals of prey,
and only our congenital cowardice
keeps us from carrying
our intentions into effect.
This is why rather few crimes
are tried, in the end.
There are brutal, bloody crimes,
and there are slow crimes, too,
in which every blow
is precise and quiet,
and not a single drop of blood is shed,
but the killing is still done.
Sometimes because
you're still in love...
Hands up!
- Did you really shoot?
- No.
Where is the body?
On the first floor,
above the dressing room, detective.
Ludovic Harn, the new manager.
It's a tragedy.
- Is it this way?
- Yes.
Go ahead.
Did you see that, sir?
Two bullets in the neck.
He died instantly.
He was hit on the forehead.
Keep it.
Drink this, Miss Aurélia.
You must be in shock.
To think
I was bringing him a coffee...
It's a good thing you didn't see him.
His face looked like pulp.
A man you once loved
isn't like just any other man.
Same with me:
when they brought my man back...
He had been crushed
by a machine he was cleaning.
That was in 1937.
We had argued that morning.
I was packing my bags.
But when I saw he was dead,
it did something to me.
Shut up.
Drink it while it's hot.
Your coffee getting cold
won't change a thing.
What I mean is that
in cases like these,
it's better not to see them.
- So?
- These procedures are disgusting.
That's what I was saying!
When they brought my man back...
Get out of here.
Mister Ludo!
Are we giving refunds or playing?
Tell Léonard he's standing in.
Ask the detective
if we're allowed to play.
In any case, we'll play tomorrow.
People don't die at the theatre.
It couldn't last.
I even thought I was the one
who had shot him.
- Did you seen anyone?
- No.
You did!
Someone walked through the corridor.
- Could you recognize him?
- Yes.
It must've been a man.
Or a woman.
Take them.
What about you?
Did you see anyone up there?
The first time, Mr Laurent was there.
A reliable young man.
That's rare in the profession!
Is that all?
Mr Ludo came up at one point,
but he came down with me.
Oh, I know!
In the courtyard,
I met Mr Sigurd, who was about
to go up to see him.
Are you the stage manager?
- Yes, sir.
- Do you know that Sigurd?
He's an old jobless actor.
He would always ask the boss favours
and always get kicked out.
They had a row this afternoon.
- Were you there?
- No.
- OK, see you later.
- Sir...
Can we still play
or do we have to give refunds?
If you can play without him, play!
- We have an understudy.
- Do your job then.
But no one leaves this place
until the investigation is over.
It's his face! It's exactly his face!
Hey, lads, look!
You lucky man.
"Lucky"?
I've been waiting for two years.
The bastard was never even ill.
Hey, he's dead!
So he's no longer a bastard?
He's a dead bastard!
A dead bastard doesn't deserve
more respect than a live one!
He really was a bastard...
And with everyone, too.
Shouting at pupils at the studio
is customary,
but he was the same with everyone.
He gave Ludo a rough time.
Ludo, who got offered new roles
all the time?
He should've rebelled.
Something tied them together.
He was at Bertal's mercy.
He could get him into jail.
Yet Ludo was chasing his wife!
Bertal let him,
so that he controlled him.
And he forced her to come back
to his own bed every night.
A real bastard!
How do you know that?
Were you there?
Through his maid, you fool.
She's my girl.
So, are you still terrible actors,
my dears?
He had been acting strange.
He knew something was going on.
He was a good director
but he wasn't doing anything new.
When he staged Néron again,
it found it very dated.
He left us at the right time.
He was finished.
- Because of drugs?
- Drugs and hatred.
- He was dying of hatred.
- Shut up!
You're rotten.
His body is still warm upstairs.
You were all scared of him.
If he came back,
you would crawl.
So, are you still terrible actors,
my dears?
It's unbelievable!
You look exactly like him.
And I was bringing him a coffee.
On stage for act one! On stage!
Sir! Look at these dolls.
Careful!
OK.
Does this lead to the stage?
Yes, sir.
- Hey, that's the curtain!
- Sorry.
- Do you have the key?
- Yes.
Keep it. I'm the only one
who can go through tonight.
Other exits?
Two doors, one on each end.
Are they the ones you showed me?
- Yes, sir.
- Let's take a look.
- They're nice, aren't they?
- So-so.
- What's on tonight?
- Macbeth.
- Is it fun?
- It's alright.
What are they doing on their perch?
- So?
- You can lift it.
Hey, over there!
The curtain's going up!
- What are you doing?
- Can't you see? Wind!
When shall we three meet again
in thunder and rain?
When the battle's lost and won.
That will be ere the sunset.
Upon the heath,
there to meet with Macbeth.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
Hover through the fog and filthy air.
- Is something broken?
- No, they're changing the set.
This Macbeth thing looks fun.
- It's the story of a crime.
- That's my field.
I'd be curious to see how you
deal with crime in the theatre.
What bloody man is that?
He can report,
as seemeth by his plight,
of the revolt the newest state.
Say to the king
the knowledge of the broil.
Did he ever mention Sigurd?
Yes: this very night
Sigurd had threatened him.
Was he the type to take revenge?
He was a waverer.
If he were pushed
by somebody else, maybe.
...carved out his passage
through the enemies.
He fought the most disloyal traitor,
the thane of Cawdor, in single combat.
And, to conclude,
the victory fell on us.
A drum, a drum!
Macbeth doth come.
Peace!
The charm's wound up.
So foul and fair a day
I have not seen.
What are these so wither'd
and so wild in their attire,
that look not like the inhabitants
0' the earth, and yet are on't?
Are you aught that man may question?
Speak, if you can: what are you?
All hail, Macbeth!
Hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
All hail, Macbeth!
Hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!
All hail, Macbeth,
thou shalt be king hereafter!
What are they saying?
That he will be thane of Cawdor,
then king.
He doesn't understand.
The king sends him a messenger
to make him thane of Cawdor
instead of the traitor he defeated.
- Follow me?
- Yes.
Then he knows the witches are right
and all he has to do is kill
the old man to become king.
Save your breath. I understand.
As soon as I saw him,
I knew he was going to do it.
Of course it will be big news!
He was also a film actor, so...
Not before tomorrow's papers, though.
I will catch the fellow before morning.
Someone saw him running away.
No, not yet.
They're out looking for him.
Yes, tell me.
My thought, whose murder yet
is but fantastical...
Sorry?
Shit!
No, sir, sorry. It's that thing.
A loudspeaker they have
in their dressing room.
I'm trying to switch it off but I can't!
There we are! Sorry, sir.
They'll bring me the fellow.
I'll get his confession by morning.
You can go out and forget about it.
The Casino de Paris? Good!
It'll be more fun than this play.
So Macbeth is a good play?
I didn't know it.
Theatre isn't my thing, you know.
But don't worry, it'll be a doddle!
Good night.
O worthiest cousin...
For Chrissakes!
Vernier!
Yes, sir?
Destroy that thing, will you?
- Where is Gobinet ?
- Watching.
He's pitching it a bit high!
Gobinet is no Einstein.
Yet he was right
to pay attention to the play.
For the whole evening,
the two devils
would relive their crime on stage.
Who's that doll?
She has a funny face.
Macbeth's wife.
She will make him do it.
I thought so.
Us policemen have a quick eye.
Glamis thou art,
and Cawdor,
and shalt be what thou art promised.
Yet do I fear thy nature, Macbeth,
too full 0' the milk
of human kindness
to catch the nearest way.
Thou wouldst not play false,
and yet wouldst win.
Hou'ld'st have
but thou dost fear to do
what thou must do.
I will assist thee.
Come, you spirits that tend
on mortal thoughts,
fill me from the crown...
I've seen a thousand dolls like that
in my profession.
The silly fools who listen to them
get in trouble.
- They both die in the play.
- Good.
Is that the way you work?
I'm on another case.
This doll persuaded her fellow
to ice the old man
in their period bungalow.
Great Glamis! Worthy Cawdor!
Greater than both,
by the all-hail hereafter!
Thy letter hath transported me
beyond this blind present,
and I live in the future.
My dearest love,
Duncan comes here to-night.
And when goes hence?
Tomorrow...
as he purposes.
O, never shall sun that morrow see!
- Was she Bertal's wife?
- Well... yes.
They lived together.
The girl must have nerve
to play when her man
has just been killed.
Come on, you. We have our fellow.
Once he confesses,
will you let me watch the play?
- Are you the old man?
- Yes.
Careful not to get hurt
when you fall down.
See, see, our honoured hostess!
The love that follows us
sometime is our trouble,
which still we thank
as love.
Herein I teach you how you shall
bid God 'ild us for your pains
and thank us for your trouble.
- No!
- You have to.
Isn't it disgusting?
Sir, our friend is being shy.
He has something to tell you.
Well, speak!
Old Sigurd wasn't a bad guy.
Just a loudmouth.
They want me to tell you
that he showed me a gun.
It looked second-hand.
Is it this one?
Yes.
Good.
Thank you.
We're getting there,
but let's keep a cool head.
Bring me those two when you can.
- So I can stay here?
- Yes.
I should've stayed in the wings
with Gobinet.
I only had to listen
to find out how they went about it.
If it were done when 'tis done,
'twere well it were done quickly.
He's here in double trust.
I am his host.
I should repulse his murderer,
not bear the knife.
He has almost supp'd.
Why have you left the chamber?
- Hath he ask'd for me?
- Know you not he has?
We will proceed no further
in this business.
Was the hope drunk
wherein you dress'd yourself?
From this time I account thy love
as brittle as thy hope.
I dare not.
You have sworn to, my lord.
I have given suck,
and know how tender 'tis
to love the babe that milks me.
I would,
while it was smiling in my face,
have plucked my nipple
from his boneless gums
and dashed the brains out,
had I so sworn as you
have done to this.
If we should fail?
We, fail?
When Duncan is asleep,
whereto his day's hard journey
soundly inviteth him,
with wine and wassail will I
his two chamberlains so convince
that memory,
the warder of the brain,
shall be a fume.
When in swinish sleep
their drenched natures
lie as in a death,
what cannot you and I perform
upon the unguarded Duncan?
We will mark with blood
those sleepy two of his chamber
and use their very daggers.
It will be received
that they have done't.
Who dares receive it other,
as we shall make our griefs
and clamour roar upon his death?
Well, I am settled.
Away,
and mock the time with fairest show.
You two really are bastards.
Is that how you decided to kill
the old man?
The inspector
wants to interrogate you.
He's in the stage manager's office.
Come in.
Thank you for coming.
Leave us, Gobinet, will you?
Have a seat.
We'll have a cigarette together,
during the intermission,
and simply have a chat.
- Is it a good performance?
- Yes...
Aren't the actors
affected by the tragedy?
In this profession, you play anyway.
And as soon as you're on stage,
only the character counts.
You forget what you said
or did 30 minutes ago.
- It's the only way.
- How remarkable.
- I hear it's a good play.
- Don't you know it?
Policemen have no time to read.
They're mainly interested
in living characters.
Characters from the theatre
can kill whoever they want
as long as the body comes back
to life after the performance.
We only become curious
when the body stays down
after the curtain's lowered.
Like tonight.
I go to the cinema, mostly.
It's cheaper.
And to the Chatelet twice a year,
with my kids.
I had never been backstage.
You hear so many things backstage,
when the play is being performed
1 metre away.
The people in the audience
wouldn't believe it.
I heard you were Bertal's partner.
Yes. Everyone in Paris knows that.
I didn't.
What you call "Paris"
is not what I call "Paris".
3 million people live here,
and 2,9 million don't give a hoot
about what goes on in "Paris".
You are also Mr Ham's lover,
aren't you?
This isn't anybody's business.
It was his, wasn't it?
And he's dead,
so it's no one's business.
But as I have to take care of him,
it's my business too.
I'm not jumping to conclusions,
but put yourself in my shoes:
it made me feel
like having a chat with you.
He wasn't liked in the theatre.
No, he wasn't.
What a strange character!
He was harsh, violent, unfair...
aggressive.
He enjoyed torturing
whoever was under his thumb.
He did.
- Did you like him?
- No.
But you did keep working with him
for 10 years.
I know, work is one thing,
feelings are another.
Actually, some of my superiors...
Anyway-
You were his partner for years.
So sorry if I'm being tactless:
- did you love him?
- No.
But you were free.
You weren't married.
In your profession,
couples are temporary.
Why didn't you try to leave him?
Why did you come back
to him every night?
- I had no choice.
- Did he demand it?
Yes.
Couldn't you reject that demand?
No.
Life is always more complicated
than you think.
He did know about you and Mr Harn?
Yes.
And he accepted it.
Yes.
Why did he?
I'm curious.
It is intriguing.
I don't know.
Does Mr Harn know?
No.
You loved each other.
Then why did you tolerate it?
That's what I want to know.
I know, such are the mysteries of life.
But us policemen are a bit slow
and we like to hear explanations.
Why did you tolerate each other
and torture each other so much
when it would have been
so simple to end it?
And without a dead body, either.
They always get in the way
afterwards.
Yes?
Sir!
We found Sigurd in a bar.
He confessed to all of it!
He's in the dressing room.
Alright, wait, I'm coming.
Well,
this story is going to end
very simply:
we've caught the murderer.
In 2 hours,
the body will be in the morgue,
and tomorrow, you will
perform the play as usual.
That's life.
Death and oblivion.
Thank you.
I have a sensitive chest
and there are draughts here.
One dead body is enough for tonight.
Please excuse my curiosity,
but none of us are angels.
Sigurd did do you a big favour,
didn't he?
You didn't want it to go that far,
but still...
I'm happy for you, really.
I'm always on the side of love.
The old man hasn't even been dead
for two hours
and we pick up the guy
in a bar nearby!
Now we just need him
to sign his confession.
Yes, that was good work.
Although, you see,
maybe I'm being contaminated
by theatre
but this conclusion is too simple.
It lacks imagination.
Yes, but we'll be able
to get some sleep.
That's true.
What I'm worried about is the play.
I wonder how
they're going to get caught.
Once we have the signature,
you can watch the play.
- I can't do this anymore.
- You can't? I can.
I can't play that scene.
"That's not shit on your hands,
it's blood."
Shut up.
Oh, you're here?
I was looking for you.
- Act 2 is starting.
- We're coming.
Come on.
- How goes the night?
- I have not heard the clock.
- The moon is down.
- She goes down at twelve.
I take't, 'tis later, sir.
Hold, take my sword.
There's husbandry in heaven.
Their candles are all out.
A heavy summons
lies like lead upon me,
and yet I would not sleep.
The devil isn't doing too badly.
How did he manage
to change his face like that?
He looks like him!
I can't play opposite that face.
You have to. Go!
Give me my sword.
Who's there?
A friend.
What, sir, not yet at rest?
The king's a-bed.
He hath been in unusual pleasure.
This diamond
he greets your wife withal,
by the name of most kind hostess.
All's Well.
I dreamt last night
of the three weird sisters.
To you they have show'd some truth.
- What's wrong?
- He's forgotten his line.
Quick.
"Not to think of them, sir.
"Yet, when we can entreat
an hour to serve..."
Not to think of them, sir.
Yet, when we can entreat
an hour to serve,
we would spend it
in some words upon that business.
If you shall cleave to my consent,
when 'tis,
it shall make honour for you.
Phew, that was close.
What happened?
Do you recognise this?
Yes, I do.
- What was he doing?
- He was talking.
- Wasn't he alone?
- Yes, he was.
He was recording something,
probably for an interview.
He had a taste for publicity.
- What was he saying?
- I wasn't listening.
I shouted:
"You're jealous of my talent
"but you'll pay for it!"
He got up,
he shouted that I was drunk
and he tried to kick me out!
I was drunk indeed,
but I hate being brutalised.
I hit him with my gun, he fell,
and I fired.
How many times?
I don't know.
I drunk all night to forget:
it worked.
Do you feel sorry?
I've played Don Diégue
and several Roman emperors
in various tragedies.
I do not feel sorry!
To say it better:
my life is over,
so is his.
I forgive him, like Augustus.
"Take a seat, Cinna, take it,
"and on everything..."
- Enough.
- Don't you like Corneille?
Enough, I said.
Read this and sign it.
Corneille isn't very popular now.
Maybe you prefer Racine?
Nonsense!
Racine is a woman:
"if I love you, beware."
Racine is Carmen.
Corneille is a man.
Read this and sign it.
I advise you to stop being foolish.
I'm not being foolish:
I'm sharing my literary opinions.
It's my right, isn't it?
This is poorly written.
Poor France.
- Vernier!
- Detective?
Cart him off.
And ask for this to be taken away.
Please...
I'm going to have a bite to eat.
You can watch the end of the play.
- We'll meet here.
- Thank you, sir.
- So?
- They're about to do it.
Just in time.
That hath made them drunk
and me bold.
What hath quench'd them
hath given me fire.
Hark!
Peace!
It was the owl, the fatal bellman
which gives the stern'st good-night.
He is about it.
The surfeited grooms are snoring:
I have drugg'd their possets.
Death and nature contend about
whether they live or die.
Who's there?
What, ho!
Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,
and 'tis not done.
The attempt confounds us,
and not the deed.
I had done't
had he not resembled
my father as he slept.
My husband!
You love your Macbeth, hear me?
This "my husband"
should come from your guts!
My husband!
That's better.
Who lies I' the second chamber?
Donalbain.
This is a sorry sight.
That's not shit on your hands,
it's blood.
A foolish thought,
to say a sorry sight.
There's one did laugh in's sleep,
and one cried "Murder!"
that they did wake each other.
I stood and heard them
but they did say their prayers,
and address'd them again to sleep.
There are two lodged together?
One cried "God bless us!"
and "Amen" the other,
as they had seen me
with these hangman's hands.
I could not say "Amen"
when they did say "God bless us!"
Consider it not so deeply.
But wherefore could not I
pronounce "Amen"?
I had most need of blessing
and "Amen" stuck in my throat.
Consider it not so deeply,
so it will make us mad.
Methought I heard a voice cry:
"Sleep no more!
"Macbeth does murder sleep,
"the innocent sleep."
Come and see this.
"Sleep that knits up
the sleeve of care."
Still it cried to all the house:
"Sleep no more!
"Glamis hath murder'd sleep,
"and therefore Cawdor
shall sleep no more.
"Macbeth shall sleep no more."
Who would have thought:
he was sitting at this very table
having a drink
with Mr Ludo and Miss Aurélia.
They were together?
He had come to drink alone.
As he was feeling low after the scene
with Mr Bertal,
Mr Ludo told him
to come to his table.
Really?
And what did he say to them?
- Your omelette is excellent.
- Cheese and bacon.
Only there's a knack to it.
Well, you definitely seem to have it.
I wouldn't want to leave any.
So what did Harn say?
When you're talking to a drunk,
it's better to agree.
He said:
"Alright, he's a bastard,
"and he's influential.
"When he decides
to destroy someone...
"Don't you see
that you're getting less work?"
Interesting.
The Beaujolais is excellent too.
I'm glad I came here tonight.
Have you consider'd of my speeches?
Know that it was he
which held you so under fortune.
I will prove
how you were borne in hand,
how cross'd,
and you will have to say:
"Thus did Banquo."
"Our destitution is his doing."
You made it known to us.
Who is he trying to get killed now?
- It's me, you charlie.
- Oh, sorry.
Is your patience so predominant,
are you so gospell'd to pray
for this man whose heavy hand
hath bow'd you to the grave?
Will the three of you assist me?
My enemy is yours too.
His being thrusts against my life.
He's doing it again!
Of course!
His friend knows too much.
He was with him when he was told
that he would be king.
So now Macbeth suspects
that he suspects him.
They're all going to die.
It's a massacre.
The boss is asking for you
at the bar.
You'll tell me what happens next.
What's going on in your play?
You're not doing much.
The plot thickens.
Macbeth is persuading two fools
that the old man is responsible
for everything and should be killed.
How strange.
Similar ideas came to me
when I was eating my omelette.
Maybe life is as subtle as theatre
in the end.
Let's go.
The west yet glimmers
with some streaks of day.
Now spurs the lated traveller apace
to gain the timely inn.
And near approaches
the subject of our watch.
Hark!
I hear horses.
Then 'tis he:
the rest already are I' the court.
A light!
- 'Tis he.
- Stand to't.
It will be rain to-night.
Let it come down!
O, treachery!
Fly, good Fleance, fly!
Fly! Thou mayst revenge.
O slave!
Who stroke out the light?
There's but one down.
The son is fled.
Do you suspect them, sir?
If they were guilty,
they would get flustered on stage.
Maybe they are getting flustered!
You should be in the wings!
Is that how you work?
Let's go and see the play.
I'm getting interested in theatre.
At first and last
the hearty welcome.
You know your own degrees.
Sit down.
Thanks to your majesty.
Both sides are even:
here I'll sit I' the midst.
Be large in mirth.
Anon we'll drink a measure
the table round.
There's blood on thy face.
'Tis old Banquo's then.
'Tis better thee without
than he within.
- Is he dispatch'd?
- His throat is cut.
That I did for him.
Thou art the best 0' the cut-throats.
To-morrow, thou shalt be rewarded.
Here had we now
our country's honour roof'd,
were the graced person
of our Banquo present,
who may I rather challenge for...
- What's going on now?
- It's the banquet scene.
Macbeth sees the ghost of his victim
sit down at the table.
He goes mad with terror.
Very interesting.
Do these things
still work in the theatre?
It was becoming too easy:
the ghost in the play
would be a real ghost for him,
the spitting image of his victim.
He wasn't just going to fake terror,
he was really going to be terrified.
Now,
good digestion wait on appetite,
and health on both!
May't please your highness sit.
- The table's full.
- Here is a place reserved, sir.
- Where?
- Here.
What is't that moves your highness?
This man does bear
an uncanny resemblance with Bertal.
Which of you have done this?
- What.
- My good lord...
Thou canst not say I did it.
Never shake thy gory locks at me.
Rise:
his highness is not well.
Sit, worthy friends.
My lord is often thus,
and hath been from his youth.
The fit is momentary.
Upon a thought he will again be well.
If much you note him, you shall
offend him and extend his passion.
Feed, and regard him not.
Are you a man?
Ay, and a bold one,
facing that
which might appal the devil.
Why do you make such faces?
You look but on a stool.
Prithee, see there!
Behold!
How say you?
Why, what care I?
If thou canst nod, speak too.
If charnel-houses and our graves
must send those that we bury back,
our monuments
shall be the maws of kites.
What, quite unmann'd in folly?
Avaunt!
And quit my sight!
Let the earth hide thee!
Thy bones are marrowless.
Thy blood is cold.
Thou hast no speculation
in those glaring eyes!
Think of this, good peers,
but as an infirmity,
a thing of custom to his friends.
What man dare,
I dare.
Approach,
thou like the rugged Russian bear,
the arm'd rhinoceros,
or the bloodthirsty tiger.
My firm nerves shall never tremble.
Or be alive again,
and dare me to the desert
with thy sword.
If trembling I inhabit then,
protest me the baby of a girl.
Hence, horrible shadow!
Bastard.
You took Aurélia away from me.
You drugged me
so that I would became a wreck
and lose her.
Bastard.
Curtain!
Curtain!
Ladies and gentlemen,
please accept our apologies.
Ludovic Harn is not feeling well
so we had to lower the curtain.
After a short break,
our friend, who is already better,
will be fit to keep playing his part.
Please be patient for a few moments.
- It's a fit of nerves.
- Given today's events...
Don't stay around him like this.
Here comes the doctor!
- Does this happen often?
- No, it's the first time.
- Was his heart aching?
- No.
I'll give him an injection.
I've been waiting to play the part
for two years.
Now that I finally can,
that guy speaks over my line!
Theatre is a beautiful thing,
Gobinet.
Watch them.
I'll check on my man at the lock-up.
- Let no one leave the building.
- Right.
- You again?
- Yes.
I've been thinking,
and I wanted to see you to tell you:
you've convinced me about Corneille.
Really?
It was all worth it then.
You're a funny guy.
Why didn't you tell me
you were pushed into shooting him?
Act 5 is starting.
We'll be lucky to get the metro.
I live in Gennevilliers
so this is all quite funny to me.
- Have they started again?
- Yes, sir.
Here's the smell of the blood still.
All the perfumes of Arabia
will not sweeten this little hand.
- Is the girl on stage?
- Yes.
We'll take care of her
after her scene.
- We want to see Mr Bertal.
- You can't.
He's waiting!
We're from the radio.
He's dead!
- Dead? We saw him earlier.
- And then he got shot.
How awful... Poor guy.
Who did it?
You'll read it in the paper.
Drat! I wonder if he had time
to do our interview.
- Is that important?
- We're working!
- We need our machine!
- You can't get in.
- What's up?
- They want to go in.
- No journalists.
- We're from the radio.
We left our tape recorder
with Mr Bertal.
- We want it back.
- I don't care.
Will you go away?
It's not a good time.
Actually, I do care.
How does that thing work?
- There's...
- Come in.
So you think he recorded something.
When were you with him?
Between 8 and 8:15.
He was tired.
- Did he do any recording later?
- He promised to.
Could you play me the tape?
That's easy.
We had recorded about 40 seconds,
hadn't we?
Macbeth is the grim story of a crime.
Nothing more.
But around that crime,
there is Shakespeare's beautiful,
dark poetry.
What is a crime anyway,
if not the natural conclusion
of every human adventure?
We are all poor animals of prey,
and only our congenital cowardice
keeps us from carrying
our intentions into effect.
This is why rather few crimes
are tried, in the end.
There are brutal, bloody crimes,
and there are slow crimes, too,
in which every blow
is precise and quiet,
and not a single drop
of blood is shed,
but the killing is still done.
Sometimes because
you're still in love...
What do you want?
Get out!
You want to destroy me
because you're jealous of me
but you're going to pay now.
You're drunk!
Will you get out of here?
Are you checking whether I'm dead?
You sent him! You'll pay for this!
Ludo!
Enough!
Sigurd didn't kill him. We did.
Why did he confess?
He was drunk.
He hit his head with his gun
and then he fired.
But his gun jammed,
and he threw it down.
He ran away,
thinking he had killed him.
That's when I came in.
Bertal pounced on me,
covered in blood.
He wanted to strangle me.
I was scared, I screamed.
Ludo came in, picked up the gun,
and shot him.
Gobinet, take care of her.
I'll take care of the other one.
No! Ludo...
Ludo! It isn't true.
I didn't say it!
- What is that noise?
- It is the cry of women.
Let me see what happened.
I have almost forgot
the taste of fears.
Direness,
familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
cannot once start me.
- Wherefore was that cry?
- The queen is dead.
She should have died hereafter.
There would have been a time
for such a word.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow,
a poor player that struts
and frets upon the stage
and then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot,
full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.
Has he finished?
Not yet. Macbeth has to die.
He was to be killed by the kid
who liked the boss
and had guessed everything.
And now a wood
comes toward Dunsinane.
If thou speakest the truth,
no flying hence or tarrying here.
I gin to be aweary of the sun
and wish the world were now undone.
Ring the alarum-bell!
Blow, wind! Come, wrack!
At least we'll die
with harness on our back.
Be a sport
and I'll let you finish your scene.
They have tied me to a stake.
I cannot fly.
But, bear-like,
I must fight the course.
What's he, not born of woman?
Such a one am I to fear, or none.
Turn, hell-hound! Turn and fight!
She's in the van. We're ready for him.
It's the end.
I will not yield,
to be baited with the rabble's curse.
They were both shouting.
They were acting terribly.
You could tell that all they
were thinking about was Bertal.
Aurélia! Aurélia!
You'll see her again.
She isn't lost.
Hail, king, for so thou art.
Behold, where stands
the monster's cursed head.
The time is free.
Hail, King of Scotland!
Hail, King of Scotland!
Go off now!
They were so close
to each other in their cages,
yet they never saw
each other again on this Earth.
That's it.
- Now we can go to bed.
- I suppose so.
Poor devils, both of them.
Maybe the guy really was a bastard.
You never know with life.
In any case, sir,
that was a good play they performed.
Shakespeare.
I'll try to remember that name.
THE END