European Nights (1959) - full transcript
A tour of the nightlife in Rome, Paris, London, Madrid, Vienna, Brussels and more. Episodes presenting famous artists and people performing.
EUROPE BY NIGHT
London? Paris?
Berlin? Moscow? Bah!
You pick:
One name's as good as another.
Don't take offence if already
at the start of our journey,
we meet a Seine
which flows into the Thames,
before joining the Tiber
at the corner of a Madrid square.
Besides, the idea of uniting
the states of Europe,
which the politicians believe
they thought of first,
was already inside us
when on school desks,
we were convinced that
Zurich was the capital of Belgium
and Warsaw of England.
We were already trying to mix,
despite the strict
watch of our teachers,
all of the peoples of Europe.
Just one capital, one name,
instead of the many
learned by rote.
Here is a dream
which is realized every night,
when day-to-day reality sleeps
and imagination wakes instead.
As soon as the lights turn on,
at Madrid as in Paris,
at Berlin as in Rome,
sleep falls upon,
in all the squares of Europe,
the marble heroes of thought,
who in the name of
brotherhood between peoples
invent borders, passports,
custom taxes and tariffs.
They need to have a good sleep
in order to wake up tomorrow
to think up
new hassles for humanity.
Accompanied by a warm good
night by the European motorists,
the heroes of "No parking!"
and "Do not enter!",
descend from a mountain of fines.
For the world of revolts,
revolutions, cold and hot wars,
the hour of curfew has rang.
With the first shadow of night,
come the passing
heroes of the night.
Heroes without monuments,
because instead of making life harder,
they seek to make it easier.
These are The Happy Wanderers.
When they arrive,
even London seems to be
permeated with a whiff
of Neapolitan pizza.
Happiness has no country.
"Early to bed and early to rise,
makes a man healthy and wise."
Indeed, going to bed by 8
in the morning, at 10 at night,
these bold young people are
already up fresh as a rose.
A restless generation:
They consider the TV
as a valid reason
to get out of the house before
the evening programs begin.
RAI: Italian TV.
Ladies and gentlemen,
good evening.
Fresh from his American success,
here with some of his
famous interpretations:
Domenico Modugno!
Milk is good,
hot chocolate sweet,
and chamomile is healthy too.
Orgeat syrup refreshes
and wine makes you happy,
and only water can
quench your thirst.
Yes, a million people
from Naples, like me,
will have none of it,
and they live on coffee!
Coffee is so good which
only Naples knows how to make
and nobody can explain why,
it's a real speciality!
In this city, you can smell
such a scent of coffee
and an irritable person like me,
now and then goes get some.
As soon as a baby is born
he says, "Get me coffee!"
An Englishman will forget his tea
if he gets to know what an espresso is.
Coffee is so good which
only Naples knows how to make
This way we can explain
why here, all day long,
cup upon cup, they buy,
heat up, and drink coffee.
Coffee is so good!
While waiting for the applause
to convince Modugno to do an encore,
let's jump over to Brussels,
where Belgian TV gives welcome
to the little Rolland D'Avell,
a giant of the xylophone.
You're the most beautiful,
your name is Lil?,
dishevelled like that,
I like you more.
Oh no, dear,
don't you change too, lovely.
Don't cut your hair.
Don't wear more makeup, love.
But you, sweet,
you have decided so, mine,
to wear red,
to call yourself Gigi. Gigi?
Living like this,
between boutiques and coffee,
you eat roast beef
and only drink milkshakes.
Why?
Oh, no, dear,
stay the way you are, mine,
with a clean face,
with your name Lil?.
You're the most beautiful,
dishevelled like that,
how beautiful is Lil?.
And damn it, Lil?!
As a little while ago in Brussels,
a child amused the grown ups,
here in Paris, a grown up
will amuse the children.
Lamouret and his 'Lil Duck!
He gets here and starts talking.
I'm the one who talks.
Daddy talks, got it?
Yes.
- Good. He understood. He did.
He quite understands.
He's so intelligent.
No, I don't want any kisses
from a hypocrite! I don't!
No, no! I don't want any.
Because everytime you kiss me
and gimme one of your pecks?
I'm here! I'm here!
It's so difficult nowadays
to travel with animals.
What are you looking for?
Did you lose something?
You lost something?
What's the matter now?
It's so? Oh, well,
I'll continue my act. Because?
Where's your little eye?
- I lost it.
He lost his eye!
Where did his little eye go?
If I lost an eye, I would know!
- Really?
Where could he have
put that eye now?
The eye! Ah, the eye!
Poof, went the eye!
I don't see it.
Where did you put that eye?
He had two eyes!
- Two eyes!
He came here with two eyes!
Ah, there it is! I got it now!
Is that it?
- I recognize it.
Upsy-daisy. It was no big deal.
Now then, I?
Here I am!
Oh, I'm so sorry, excuse me.
There we go.
Well, now I'm going to give you
a little impression. Finally!
A young lady and
a young man on a train.
Really?
- And you're going to play
the young lady.
- Oh, no!
"I am a boy duck,"
yells the 'Lil Duck.
"And I don't want
the dirl luck's gace!"
"I mean the girl duck's lace."
"Drat those girl ducks."
Now, you blow into
the microphone, understand?
Yes.
- Good. He understood.
In Milan, the Sports Arena.
The great dynasty of the Groc
and Fratellini Brothers continues
with these
illustrious contemporaries:
the Rastelli Clowns.
Today, I'll sing in allegretto.
Years and generations pass,
but clowns continue to be
adored by the multitude,
notwithstanding the hard kick
launched at their class by Leoncavallo.
Les toits de Paris.
The roofs of Paris.
On the way of this bizarre itinerary
beneath European skies,
are the blades of Moulin Rouge.
And here's the Lido.
Are we stopping here?
No, we've already seen it
in Cinerama.
Let's go instead to
La Nouvelle Eve,
where the Charley Ballet draws
the best international audiences.
There's also Alba Arnova
with Henry Salvador.
She had put on her pink dress,
Rose, Rose.
All the passers-by passing by
turned their heads towards her.
It was only a pink dream,
Rose, Rose.
She put on every night
before her mirror.
Her dream, one day in May,
became reality,
a dress for a gala,
a Sunday ball,
Rose flies away?
She had put on her pink dress,
Rose, Rose.
And among all boys
who danced at the Robinson,
Pierrot said so many things,
quite rosy, rosy,
that in the evening
of that fine day,
Rose found love.
They quickly did go
to see the parish priest,
but Rose on that day
had on a white dress,
a bouquet of lilacs?
And she kept her pink dress,
Rose, Rose.
And she put in on every year,
on the first day of spring.
Pierrot gave her a rose,
a rose, a rose.
And both of them went away
to dance at the Robinson.
Identical like drops of water,
these 24 legs belong to
the 12 girls of Charley Ballet,
a famous English breed.
Every night,
perfect like a stopwatch,
the delicious mechanism
starts and goes to work.
If a part fails?
Immediately, a plane from
London brings a replacement
and they're all in step again,
like before.
Do you want to see up close,
some recent replacement parts?
There they are. May I?
Barbara, Maureen,
Patricia, Lexie, Ann.
Ah, there's Jill:
exact lookalike of
Bette Davis from a few?
months ago.
An absolute success every night.
But a success with
a terribly high cost:
Three shows in a row,
day after day, year after year.
It would be impossible to
invite them to the movies.
Their only vacation day after
364 days of work is Holy Friday.
But right on that day, you see,
the movie theaters are closed.
And now
a brief musical intermission,
a solo with Henry Salvador
accompanied by the orchestra.
The lovely Princess Badia
offers us the best that
can be found in Europe
when it comes to belly dancing.
This ancient Oriental dance,
as everybody knows,
was invented by an odalisque who,
having drunk a medicine,
too late realized she had
to shake well before using.
A now a quick zig-zag
to the nights in London
among the conjurers,
jugglers and tightrope walkers.
Everything is included
in the price of a ticket.
Fine, let's start with him:
Watson the Magician.
They are The Monarchs,
specialists in harmonica
of worldwide fame.
At first,
the harmonicas were all small
like the one swallowed by
the player with the goatee
but they were getting
consumed every night.
And here's Watson again,
capable of doing miracles.
One of these nights, he'll attempt
to straighten a lady's legs.
And these are the Grays,
jugglers of the English school.
Eight long hours
of daily training
except for a few fast breaks
to blow one's nose,
those clubs must've had them
pulling out their hair,
since they're slightly bald,
but hair today gone tomorrow.
I will now do the impossible!
Even in the plates of Chu Fu,
Chinese jugglers,
it's always the same soup.
Life is hard for
the heroes of the night, eh?
1000s of broken plates,
dozens of harmonicas swallowed,
100s of clubs on the head
and 20 years of hard work
to raise from us a smile.
Has a dentist or a lawyer
worked harder perhaps
to raise from us a tear?
Ladies and gentlemen,
warm hearts, muscles of steel,
nerves of nylon,
and above all,
a dazzling white smile!
The Two Swiss Tongas!
Rivals of the birds of prey,
of whom they take their name,
the condors,
here they are the flying Germans,
the Condoras!
A powerful astral leap,
the younger brother
enters the orbit
around his older brother.
Even more than condors,
are the more daring Condoras.
Ladies and gentlemen,
the leap to the death
with eyes blindfolded.
More than one tragic end
has been recorded here.
From the Togni Circus
to Piccadilly Circus.
We're again in London
with Colin Hicks and The Boys,
kings of European rock 'n' roll.
Was it from someone from above?
So I wonder, wonder, wonder who?
who wrote the book of love?
Oh, baby, baby, baby,
I love you, you know I do.
It said so in this book of love,
I wonder why it's true.
So I wonder, wonder, wonder who?
who wrote the book of love?
Chapter one says love her,
love her with all your heart.
Chapter two you tell her
you're never, never, gonna part.
In chapter three remember
the meaning of romance.
In chapter four you break up
but you give her just one more chance.
Oh, I wonder, wonder, wonder who?
who wrote the book of love?
Oh, baby, baby, baby,
I love you, you know I do.
It said so in this book of love,
I wonder why it's true.
Oh, I wonder, wonder, wonder who?
who wrote the book of love?
Who wrote the book of love?
This is Vienna,
the last border of the West.
Lend your ears
to the Iron Curtain
and listen to this rock 'n' roll,
Russian style.
Oh, you pretty, engaged girl,
why are you walking
around so saddened?
"Oh, I walk,
walk around so saddened
Because I'll not be
wedded with you."
Skill, harmony, discipline,
and above all, a rigid observance
of the hard laws of Terpsichore.
More or less, this is what
makes up a white Russian,
as well as a red variety show.
And here we are again
at La Nouvelle Eve in Paris.
Just in time for
the finale of the Revue.
These are the splendid girls
of the famous "Ballet in White."
Because of whom,
many tourist have become broke.
Don't confuse them with those
already seen in the "Ballet in Red",
for whom just as many tourists
run to the bank every evening.
This girl in the black
stockings sells cigars
and this young man is
a tourist who doesn't smoke.
Oh, good!
A photo, ladies and gentlemen?
Thank you.
Only?
You recognize the holler?
Of course. It's "Only You"
which the Platters tried
to frame as a holler of pain,
but which instead comes out
as a holler of joy.
No wonder! To this day,
it's a holler worth
25 million dollars.
You'll never know!
You'll never, never know I care.
You'll never know
the torch I bear,
You'll never know it,
for I won't show it.
Oh, no, you'll never, never know.
You'll never know!
You'll never, never see me cry.
Not even when you're glancing by.
For I won't weaken,
when we're speaking.
Oh, no, you'll never, never know.
You know the used to me
that I was before.
You'll see the used to be
that one you did adore.
You'll never know!
No, no I know I won't reveal
the way I really truly feel.
But if you guess it,
I'll confess it.
Oh, darling now's
the time to plot
or else you'll never, never know.
You know the used to me
that I was before.
You'll see the used to be
that one you did adore.
You'll never know!
No, no I know I won't reveal
the way I really truly feel.
But if you guess it,
I'll confess it.
Oh, darling now's
the time to plot
or else you'll never,
no, no, you'll never
Oh, no you'll never,
ever know.
You'll never know!
Hear that applause?
Thanks also
to the moral support of the girl
who never stopped smiling.
My dream
is a wondrous dream.
It's the answer too,
wanting only you.
My dream
is a true delight.
My escape at night
from a world that's blue.
The world we know
seems so far away
and where we go
is for us to say.
My dream
is a wealth of joy
no one can destroy
when I dream my dream.
It's no common dream.
It's a wondrous dream.
Dream.
Sunset is now far away
but luckily, so is the sunrise.
There are still many hours left
to spend in good company.
She wanted to see the young,
fascinating illusionist
all the city is talking about.
He didn't think it was real.
Night owls are ready for
anything to avoid going to bed.
Londoners are right:
Channing Pollock
is perhaps the most fascinating
magician in the world.
Watch.
He drives his game with
the bravado of a mage.
You can't catch him in the act,
not even in slow motion.
Can you imagine him
at a poker table?
But that's nothing.
Just look at what
this guy can do.
They say he comes
from America but
there are those who say
he comes from hell.
However, his name is Mac Ronay,
diabolical magician
with the enchanted hands
and the gaze of an eagle.
Now observe well,
by dint of some spell,
how he grasps from nothing
the mysterious objects
of his magic.
But even the all powerful
Mac Ronay has his Achilles's heel:
his memory.
Place Pigalle, the last number
of the Archie Savage Dancers.
Who? Me?
It's 3 at night.
It's very late or very early,
depending on your point of view.
However, when this hour arrives,
on the edge of night and day,
it seems that music and dancers
begin to start chasing time.
Beaver hats and bearskin coats,
moonlight chants on motorboat.
Boop Oop A Doop! Boop Oop A Doop!
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!
Ah, mess around!
Chapel bells, the wishing wells,
how about some coquetry?
Happy bottom, thrill twister,
you got it, yay, sister!
Clap your hands and
do that rowdy stomp!
In the nights of Paris,
temptations jet light
like mirages in the desert
under the moon.
Sadly, drinking at these fonts
isn't in everybody's budget.
These 2 kids for example,
don't have any ticket than
a record and some imagination.
In my island,
what heavenly birds.
In my island,
we never do anything.
We bask in the sun
who caresses us.
And we are lazy,
without thinking about tomorrow.
In my island,
a scent of love
sneaks up
by the end of the day.
She comes running,
holding out her pliant arms,
soft and fragile,
in her finest attire.
Her eyes are shining,
and her brown hair
scatters
on the fine sand.
And we play the game
of Adam and Eve.
An easy game,
that they taught us.
Because my island is paradise.
Look at them,
they seem to be Italians.
Shining here and there are
the signs of the strip-tease,
where the brave vestals
of sex-appeal,
expose themselves
fearlessly to colds.
Let's enter then.
Those under 16 stay outside.
To think they could find
interesting material
not so much on the stage,
but in the audience.
Where one becomes naked
without untying a tie knot.
And here is the rose flower,
the serpentine, voluptuous,
here is Dolly Bell!
Naturally, we don't expect you
to take both eyes off the stage,
but try to divert one of them
now and then to the audience
to follow here and there
the strip-tease of the public.
Do you like it?
Would you like a microscope?
Excuse me? A photo, Sir?
- No, no!
Excuse me.
- Scared of your wife, eh?
Please.
Oh, you're my one and only Jackie!
Without you,
I'm so lonely, Jackie.
You know you gonna
drive me wacky.
You're my ideal,
the guy I've always waited for.
It's just like a dream,
my Jackie,
to have found you at last.
I knew the moment
that I saw you, my love.
Well, don't forget me
or you'll regret me.
Please, say that you'll be
mine forever, Jackie.
Oh, don't forget me?
- Sir! Please!
Hey, if you please!
- ?or you'll regret me,
Please, say that you'll be
mine forever, Jackie.
I'm sorry, dear.
Lady Phu Qui Cho!
Do you find it interesting too,
Ma'am? - Yes.
Indeed?
There's always
something to learn.
This is the ultimate meanness!
And now, Mailles de Filet,
striptease in fishnet,
performed by Lily Niagara!
Follow me, please.
Secretary Sir.
This way.
One second, Secretary.
A cigarette, Secretary?
Sir, your table is ready.
- Perfect.
For reasons exquisitely technical,
in a while, we'll be forced to
interrupt this painful suspense.
A pity!
Just think that tonight
Lily Niagara was ready
to strip the skin off her back,
remaining, for your delight,
only in her breast and tail bones.
And finally, for you ladies.
Maybe even she has
something to learn?
Bye.
What is happening
in Dolly Bell's dressing room?
Or could've prevented it.
I told you a 1000 times.
Dolly!
Pig!
What's the matter?
- Pig! I can't take it anymore!
The usual poaching
photographer who caught her
in the most critical moment
of her number.
What was it?
- He photographed her nude.
Look, after all,
they only strip
so they can dress themselves.
But male undressing isn't
just like this in Paris.
This one, for example,
is what is offered by Coccinelle,
the person of whom
the Ville Lumi?re
hasn't been able yet
to attribute with certainty
one of the current sexes.
Your nose,
turned up mockingly.
Your eyes,
always smiling.
Everyone
who knows you,
intoxicated
by your caresses.
They leave
but always come back,
Paris,
to your loves.
This is Paris! This is Paris!
Coccinelle!
A lady walking by,
a little hi and in little time
we're upside down.
A lady walking by,
and then the tired become gay.
It's the sun?
Certainly, appearances are more
against him than against her.
Seeing her tonight when
she appears at the Carousel,
before the crowd of
her "girlfriends,"
one wouldn't believe that only
4 years ago during the draft,
she was discharged
for weakness of chest.
On the Champs-?lys?es,
one sees me sashay,
all the men are quick
to look my way.
Coccinelle!
When along the crossway,
crossing out of the blue,
as I went by,
a traffic jam quite cuckoo.
I had such an effect
that Office Bissel
swallowed his whistle.
What do I have then?
What do I have then
that trouble the boys?
Ooh, la, la!
Is it my little turned-up nose?
My big, saucer eyes?
What do I have then?
What do I have then?
But I'm from Panama, that's why!
And of real Parisians,
I?m the exception.
From Paris to Madrid,
in a click of a heel.
Corral de la Morer?a.
At the Corral de la Morer?a,
a most popular locale in Madrid,
pleasant encounters often occur.
Here the star of flamenco,
Casarrubios,
has recognized the most popular
actress in Spain, Carmen Sevilla,
in company with
actor Gustavo Rojo.
Persuaded by the public's applause,
the lovely actress decides
to improvise a dance
there and then,
laboriously prepared in
long weeks of hard work.
Baby, I love you so!
God knows! Yeah, yeah!
Faster! Faster! Dawn is coming!
Surely, it's Colin Hicks
and his boys again.
Imagine, just today
between rehearsals and shows,
12 hours of this
Saint Vitus' Dance.
Soon in the next 12,
they'll try to slow down but
as usual, as soon as
they manage to do so,
it will be time to start again.
One kiss! Yeah, yeah!
One kiss! Yeah, yeah!
One kiss! Yeah, yeah!
One kiss! Yeah, yeah!
Baby, I love you so!
Well, I've got a gal with
a record machine,
when it comes to rockin',
she's the queen.
We're going to dance on a Saturday night,
all alone where I can hold her tight.
But she lives on the 20th floor uptown.
The elevator's broken down.
So I'll walk 1, 2 flight, 3 flight, 4,
5, 6, 7 flight, 8 flight, more.
Up on the 12th I'm startin' to drag,
15th floor I'm a-ready to sag.
Get to the top,
I'm too tired to rock!
When she calls me up on the telephone,
"Come on over baby, I'm all alone."
I said, "Baby you're mighty sweet
but I'm in bed with the achin' feet."
All this climbin' is a-gettin' me down.
They'll find my corpse draped over a rail.
1, 2 flight, 3 flight, 4
5, six, 7 flight, 8 flight, more.
Up on the 12th I'm ready to drag,
15th floor I'm startin' to sag.
Get to the top,
I'm too tired to rock!
Up on the 12th I'm ready to drag,
15th floor I'm startin' to sag.
Get to the top,
I'm too tired to rock!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
Ay yai yai!
Soon up high in the sky,
the tyrant shall shine again.
Already stirring in
their blankets of marble
are the solemn heroes of thought.
Along the river,
couples prepare a leavetaking
with one last caress
that only in a few moments,
could have been called
"public indecency."
To the defense of that decency,
the lance of Don Quixote rises.
No, Don Quixote is one of us.
He has always left in peace
the windmills of Moulin Rouge.
Along the streets and squares,
here are the first to go to work.
And here are the last who haven't
resigned themselves to going home.
Night and day have
their brief encounter.
The night is lost
inside the morning.
The alleys slowly
become brighter.
and comes the sun.
Sun, sun, sun,
smiling through houses,
it comes in, it come in.
Every thing?
becomes cleaner.
The clothes waving in the sky,
the voices in the street,
the first song.
Wake up, painters.
Choose your colors,
with green
and the water of the sea.
Sea, sea, sea,
beat against the prow
for hours, hours.
Sails and winds?
Yeah, "sea, sea! Sun, sun!"
Let's raise this hymn to life
returning with a wave of light,
to the work in the fields,
to the toil in the offices,
to the bills that come due,
to the taxes, to the fines.
Take heart.
You just need to hang in
there for 8 or 9 hours,
because the night will return.
Imagination will return
in this splendid
capital of Europe that rises
in a spot that's
yet too imprecise.
A spot that we want
as north as possible.
In that extreme north
where the nights, they say,
last for 6 months.
English subtitles
by sineintegral@KG
London? Paris?
Berlin? Moscow? Bah!
You pick:
One name's as good as another.
Don't take offence if already
at the start of our journey,
we meet a Seine
which flows into the Thames,
before joining the Tiber
at the corner of a Madrid square.
Besides, the idea of uniting
the states of Europe,
which the politicians believe
they thought of first,
was already inside us
when on school desks,
we were convinced that
Zurich was the capital of Belgium
and Warsaw of England.
We were already trying to mix,
despite the strict
watch of our teachers,
all of the peoples of Europe.
Just one capital, one name,
instead of the many
learned by rote.
Here is a dream
which is realized every night,
when day-to-day reality sleeps
and imagination wakes instead.
As soon as the lights turn on,
at Madrid as in Paris,
at Berlin as in Rome,
sleep falls upon,
in all the squares of Europe,
the marble heroes of thought,
who in the name of
brotherhood between peoples
invent borders, passports,
custom taxes and tariffs.
They need to have a good sleep
in order to wake up tomorrow
to think up
new hassles for humanity.
Accompanied by a warm good
night by the European motorists,
the heroes of "No parking!"
and "Do not enter!",
descend from a mountain of fines.
For the world of revolts,
revolutions, cold and hot wars,
the hour of curfew has rang.
With the first shadow of night,
come the passing
heroes of the night.
Heroes without monuments,
because instead of making life harder,
they seek to make it easier.
These are The Happy Wanderers.
When they arrive,
even London seems to be
permeated with a whiff
of Neapolitan pizza.
Happiness has no country.
"Early to bed and early to rise,
makes a man healthy and wise."
Indeed, going to bed by 8
in the morning, at 10 at night,
these bold young people are
already up fresh as a rose.
A restless generation:
They consider the TV
as a valid reason
to get out of the house before
the evening programs begin.
RAI: Italian TV.
Ladies and gentlemen,
good evening.
Fresh from his American success,
here with some of his
famous interpretations:
Domenico Modugno!
Milk is good,
hot chocolate sweet,
and chamomile is healthy too.
Orgeat syrup refreshes
and wine makes you happy,
and only water can
quench your thirst.
Yes, a million people
from Naples, like me,
will have none of it,
and they live on coffee!
Coffee is so good which
only Naples knows how to make
and nobody can explain why,
it's a real speciality!
In this city, you can smell
such a scent of coffee
and an irritable person like me,
now and then goes get some.
As soon as a baby is born
he says, "Get me coffee!"
An Englishman will forget his tea
if he gets to know what an espresso is.
Coffee is so good which
only Naples knows how to make
This way we can explain
why here, all day long,
cup upon cup, they buy,
heat up, and drink coffee.
Coffee is so good!
While waiting for the applause
to convince Modugno to do an encore,
let's jump over to Brussels,
where Belgian TV gives welcome
to the little Rolland D'Avell,
a giant of the xylophone.
You're the most beautiful,
your name is Lil?,
dishevelled like that,
I like you more.
Oh no, dear,
don't you change too, lovely.
Don't cut your hair.
Don't wear more makeup, love.
But you, sweet,
you have decided so, mine,
to wear red,
to call yourself Gigi. Gigi?
Living like this,
between boutiques and coffee,
you eat roast beef
and only drink milkshakes.
Why?
Oh, no, dear,
stay the way you are, mine,
with a clean face,
with your name Lil?.
You're the most beautiful,
dishevelled like that,
how beautiful is Lil?.
And damn it, Lil?!
As a little while ago in Brussels,
a child amused the grown ups,
here in Paris, a grown up
will amuse the children.
Lamouret and his 'Lil Duck!
He gets here and starts talking.
I'm the one who talks.
Daddy talks, got it?
Yes.
- Good. He understood. He did.
He quite understands.
He's so intelligent.
No, I don't want any kisses
from a hypocrite! I don't!
No, no! I don't want any.
Because everytime you kiss me
and gimme one of your pecks?
I'm here! I'm here!
It's so difficult nowadays
to travel with animals.
What are you looking for?
Did you lose something?
You lost something?
What's the matter now?
It's so? Oh, well,
I'll continue my act. Because?
Where's your little eye?
- I lost it.
He lost his eye!
Where did his little eye go?
If I lost an eye, I would know!
- Really?
Where could he have
put that eye now?
The eye! Ah, the eye!
Poof, went the eye!
I don't see it.
Where did you put that eye?
He had two eyes!
- Two eyes!
He came here with two eyes!
Ah, there it is! I got it now!
Is that it?
- I recognize it.
Upsy-daisy. It was no big deal.
Now then, I?
Here I am!
Oh, I'm so sorry, excuse me.
There we go.
Well, now I'm going to give you
a little impression. Finally!
A young lady and
a young man on a train.
Really?
- And you're going to play
the young lady.
- Oh, no!
"I am a boy duck,"
yells the 'Lil Duck.
"And I don't want
the dirl luck's gace!"
"I mean the girl duck's lace."
"Drat those girl ducks."
Now, you blow into
the microphone, understand?
Yes.
- Good. He understood.
In Milan, the Sports Arena.
The great dynasty of the Groc
and Fratellini Brothers continues
with these
illustrious contemporaries:
the Rastelli Clowns.
Today, I'll sing in allegretto.
Years and generations pass,
but clowns continue to be
adored by the multitude,
notwithstanding the hard kick
launched at their class by Leoncavallo.
Les toits de Paris.
The roofs of Paris.
On the way of this bizarre itinerary
beneath European skies,
are the blades of Moulin Rouge.
And here's the Lido.
Are we stopping here?
No, we've already seen it
in Cinerama.
Let's go instead to
La Nouvelle Eve,
where the Charley Ballet draws
the best international audiences.
There's also Alba Arnova
with Henry Salvador.
She had put on her pink dress,
Rose, Rose.
All the passers-by passing by
turned their heads towards her.
It was only a pink dream,
Rose, Rose.
She put on every night
before her mirror.
Her dream, one day in May,
became reality,
a dress for a gala,
a Sunday ball,
Rose flies away?
She had put on her pink dress,
Rose, Rose.
And among all boys
who danced at the Robinson,
Pierrot said so many things,
quite rosy, rosy,
that in the evening
of that fine day,
Rose found love.
They quickly did go
to see the parish priest,
but Rose on that day
had on a white dress,
a bouquet of lilacs?
And she kept her pink dress,
Rose, Rose.
And she put in on every year,
on the first day of spring.
Pierrot gave her a rose,
a rose, a rose.
And both of them went away
to dance at the Robinson.
Identical like drops of water,
these 24 legs belong to
the 12 girls of Charley Ballet,
a famous English breed.
Every night,
perfect like a stopwatch,
the delicious mechanism
starts and goes to work.
If a part fails?
Immediately, a plane from
London brings a replacement
and they're all in step again,
like before.
Do you want to see up close,
some recent replacement parts?
There they are. May I?
Barbara, Maureen,
Patricia, Lexie, Ann.
Ah, there's Jill:
exact lookalike of
Bette Davis from a few?
months ago.
An absolute success every night.
But a success with
a terribly high cost:
Three shows in a row,
day after day, year after year.
It would be impossible to
invite them to the movies.
Their only vacation day after
364 days of work is Holy Friday.
But right on that day, you see,
the movie theaters are closed.
And now
a brief musical intermission,
a solo with Henry Salvador
accompanied by the orchestra.
The lovely Princess Badia
offers us the best that
can be found in Europe
when it comes to belly dancing.
This ancient Oriental dance,
as everybody knows,
was invented by an odalisque who,
having drunk a medicine,
too late realized she had
to shake well before using.
A now a quick zig-zag
to the nights in London
among the conjurers,
jugglers and tightrope walkers.
Everything is included
in the price of a ticket.
Fine, let's start with him:
Watson the Magician.
They are The Monarchs,
specialists in harmonica
of worldwide fame.
At first,
the harmonicas were all small
like the one swallowed by
the player with the goatee
but they were getting
consumed every night.
And here's Watson again,
capable of doing miracles.
One of these nights, he'll attempt
to straighten a lady's legs.
And these are the Grays,
jugglers of the English school.
Eight long hours
of daily training
except for a few fast breaks
to blow one's nose,
those clubs must've had them
pulling out their hair,
since they're slightly bald,
but hair today gone tomorrow.
I will now do the impossible!
Even in the plates of Chu Fu,
Chinese jugglers,
it's always the same soup.
Life is hard for
the heroes of the night, eh?
1000s of broken plates,
dozens of harmonicas swallowed,
100s of clubs on the head
and 20 years of hard work
to raise from us a smile.
Has a dentist or a lawyer
worked harder perhaps
to raise from us a tear?
Ladies and gentlemen,
warm hearts, muscles of steel,
nerves of nylon,
and above all,
a dazzling white smile!
The Two Swiss Tongas!
Rivals of the birds of prey,
of whom they take their name,
the condors,
here they are the flying Germans,
the Condoras!
A powerful astral leap,
the younger brother
enters the orbit
around his older brother.
Even more than condors,
are the more daring Condoras.
Ladies and gentlemen,
the leap to the death
with eyes blindfolded.
More than one tragic end
has been recorded here.
From the Togni Circus
to Piccadilly Circus.
We're again in London
with Colin Hicks and The Boys,
kings of European rock 'n' roll.
Was it from someone from above?
So I wonder, wonder, wonder who?
who wrote the book of love?
Oh, baby, baby, baby,
I love you, you know I do.
It said so in this book of love,
I wonder why it's true.
So I wonder, wonder, wonder who?
who wrote the book of love?
Chapter one says love her,
love her with all your heart.
Chapter two you tell her
you're never, never, gonna part.
In chapter three remember
the meaning of romance.
In chapter four you break up
but you give her just one more chance.
Oh, I wonder, wonder, wonder who?
who wrote the book of love?
Oh, baby, baby, baby,
I love you, you know I do.
It said so in this book of love,
I wonder why it's true.
Oh, I wonder, wonder, wonder who?
who wrote the book of love?
Who wrote the book of love?
This is Vienna,
the last border of the West.
Lend your ears
to the Iron Curtain
and listen to this rock 'n' roll,
Russian style.
Oh, you pretty, engaged girl,
why are you walking
around so saddened?
"Oh, I walk,
walk around so saddened
Because I'll not be
wedded with you."
Skill, harmony, discipline,
and above all, a rigid observance
of the hard laws of Terpsichore.
More or less, this is what
makes up a white Russian,
as well as a red variety show.
And here we are again
at La Nouvelle Eve in Paris.
Just in time for
the finale of the Revue.
These are the splendid girls
of the famous "Ballet in White."
Because of whom,
many tourist have become broke.
Don't confuse them with those
already seen in the "Ballet in Red",
for whom just as many tourists
run to the bank every evening.
This girl in the black
stockings sells cigars
and this young man is
a tourist who doesn't smoke.
Oh, good!
A photo, ladies and gentlemen?
Thank you.
Only?
You recognize the holler?
Of course. It's "Only You"
which the Platters tried
to frame as a holler of pain,
but which instead comes out
as a holler of joy.
No wonder! To this day,
it's a holler worth
25 million dollars.
You'll never know!
You'll never, never know I care.
You'll never know
the torch I bear,
You'll never know it,
for I won't show it.
Oh, no, you'll never, never know.
You'll never know!
You'll never, never see me cry.
Not even when you're glancing by.
For I won't weaken,
when we're speaking.
Oh, no, you'll never, never know.
You know the used to me
that I was before.
You'll see the used to be
that one you did adore.
You'll never know!
No, no I know I won't reveal
the way I really truly feel.
But if you guess it,
I'll confess it.
Oh, darling now's
the time to plot
or else you'll never, never know.
You know the used to me
that I was before.
You'll see the used to be
that one you did adore.
You'll never know!
No, no I know I won't reveal
the way I really truly feel.
But if you guess it,
I'll confess it.
Oh, darling now's
the time to plot
or else you'll never,
no, no, you'll never
Oh, no you'll never,
ever know.
You'll never know!
Hear that applause?
Thanks also
to the moral support of the girl
who never stopped smiling.
My dream
is a wondrous dream.
It's the answer too,
wanting only you.
My dream
is a true delight.
My escape at night
from a world that's blue.
The world we know
seems so far away
and where we go
is for us to say.
My dream
is a wealth of joy
no one can destroy
when I dream my dream.
It's no common dream.
It's a wondrous dream.
Dream.
Sunset is now far away
but luckily, so is the sunrise.
There are still many hours left
to spend in good company.
She wanted to see the young,
fascinating illusionist
all the city is talking about.
He didn't think it was real.
Night owls are ready for
anything to avoid going to bed.
Londoners are right:
Channing Pollock
is perhaps the most fascinating
magician in the world.
Watch.
He drives his game with
the bravado of a mage.
You can't catch him in the act,
not even in slow motion.
Can you imagine him
at a poker table?
But that's nothing.
Just look at what
this guy can do.
They say he comes
from America but
there are those who say
he comes from hell.
However, his name is Mac Ronay,
diabolical magician
with the enchanted hands
and the gaze of an eagle.
Now observe well,
by dint of some spell,
how he grasps from nothing
the mysterious objects
of his magic.
But even the all powerful
Mac Ronay has his Achilles's heel:
his memory.
Place Pigalle, the last number
of the Archie Savage Dancers.
Who? Me?
It's 3 at night.
It's very late or very early,
depending on your point of view.
However, when this hour arrives,
on the edge of night and day,
it seems that music and dancers
begin to start chasing time.
Beaver hats and bearskin coats,
moonlight chants on motorboat.
Boop Oop A Doop! Boop Oop A Doop!
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!
Ah, mess around!
Chapel bells, the wishing wells,
how about some coquetry?
Happy bottom, thrill twister,
you got it, yay, sister!
Clap your hands and
do that rowdy stomp!
In the nights of Paris,
temptations jet light
like mirages in the desert
under the moon.
Sadly, drinking at these fonts
isn't in everybody's budget.
These 2 kids for example,
don't have any ticket than
a record and some imagination.
In my island,
what heavenly birds.
In my island,
we never do anything.
We bask in the sun
who caresses us.
And we are lazy,
without thinking about tomorrow.
In my island,
a scent of love
sneaks up
by the end of the day.
She comes running,
holding out her pliant arms,
soft and fragile,
in her finest attire.
Her eyes are shining,
and her brown hair
scatters
on the fine sand.
And we play the game
of Adam and Eve.
An easy game,
that they taught us.
Because my island is paradise.
Look at them,
they seem to be Italians.
Shining here and there are
the signs of the strip-tease,
where the brave vestals
of sex-appeal,
expose themselves
fearlessly to colds.
Let's enter then.
Those under 16 stay outside.
To think they could find
interesting material
not so much on the stage,
but in the audience.
Where one becomes naked
without untying a tie knot.
And here is the rose flower,
the serpentine, voluptuous,
here is Dolly Bell!
Naturally, we don't expect you
to take both eyes off the stage,
but try to divert one of them
now and then to the audience
to follow here and there
the strip-tease of the public.
Do you like it?
Would you like a microscope?
Excuse me? A photo, Sir?
- No, no!
Excuse me.
- Scared of your wife, eh?
Please.
Oh, you're my one and only Jackie!
Without you,
I'm so lonely, Jackie.
You know you gonna
drive me wacky.
You're my ideal,
the guy I've always waited for.
It's just like a dream,
my Jackie,
to have found you at last.
I knew the moment
that I saw you, my love.
Well, don't forget me
or you'll regret me.
Please, say that you'll be
mine forever, Jackie.
Oh, don't forget me?
- Sir! Please!
Hey, if you please!
- ?or you'll regret me,
Please, say that you'll be
mine forever, Jackie.
I'm sorry, dear.
Lady Phu Qui Cho!
Do you find it interesting too,
Ma'am? - Yes.
Indeed?
There's always
something to learn.
This is the ultimate meanness!
And now, Mailles de Filet,
striptease in fishnet,
performed by Lily Niagara!
Follow me, please.
Secretary Sir.
This way.
One second, Secretary.
A cigarette, Secretary?
Sir, your table is ready.
- Perfect.
For reasons exquisitely technical,
in a while, we'll be forced to
interrupt this painful suspense.
A pity!
Just think that tonight
Lily Niagara was ready
to strip the skin off her back,
remaining, for your delight,
only in her breast and tail bones.
And finally, for you ladies.
Maybe even she has
something to learn?
Bye.
What is happening
in Dolly Bell's dressing room?
Or could've prevented it.
I told you a 1000 times.
Dolly!
Pig!
What's the matter?
- Pig! I can't take it anymore!
The usual poaching
photographer who caught her
in the most critical moment
of her number.
What was it?
- He photographed her nude.
Look, after all,
they only strip
so they can dress themselves.
But male undressing isn't
just like this in Paris.
This one, for example,
is what is offered by Coccinelle,
the person of whom
the Ville Lumi?re
hasn't been able yet
to attribute with certainty
one of the current sexes.
Your nose,
turned up mockingly.
Your eyes,
always smiling.
Everyone
who knows you,
intoxicated
by your caresses.
They leave
but always come back,
Paris,
to your loves.
This is Paris! This is Paris!
Coccinelle!
A lady walking by,
a little hi and in little time
we're upside down.
A lady walking by,
and then the tired become gay.
It's the sun?
Certainly, appearances are more
against him than against her.
Seeing her tonight when
she appears at the Carousel,
before the crowd of
her "girlfriends,"
one wouldn't believe that only
4 years ago during the draft,
she was discharged
for weakness of chest.
On the Champs-?lys?es,
one sees me sashay,
all the men are quick
to look my way.
Coccinelle!
When along the crossway,
crossing out of the blue,
as I went by,
a traffic jam quite cuckoo.
I had such an effect
that Office Bissel
swallowed his whistle.
What do I have then?
What do I have then
that trouble the boys?
Ooh, la, la!
Is it my little turned-up nose?
My big, saucer eyes?
What do I have then?
What do I have then?
But I'm from Panama, that's why!
And of real Parisians,
I?m the exception.
From Paris to Madrid,
in a click of a heel.
Corral de la Morer?a.
At the Corral de la Morer?a,
a most popular locale in Madrid,
pleasant encounters often occur.
Here the star of flamenco,
Casarrubios,
has recognized the most popular
actress in Spain, Carmen Sevilla,
in company with
actor Gustavo Rojo.
Persuaded by the public's applause,
the lovely actress decides
to improvise a dance
there and then,
laboriously prepared in
long weeks of hard work.
Baby, I love you so!
God knows! Yeah, yeah!
Faster! Faster! Dawn is coming!
Surely, it's Colin Hicks
and his boys again.
Imagine, just today
between rehearsals and shows,
12 hours of this
Saint Vitus' Dance.
Soon in the next 12,
they'll try to slow down but
as usual, as soon as
they manage to do so,
it will be time to start again.
One kiss! Yeah, yeah!
One kiss! Yeah, yeah!
One kiss! Yeah, yeah!
One kiss! Yeah, yeah!
Baby, I love you so!
Well, I've got a gal with
a record machine,
when it comes to rockin',
she's the queen.
We're going to dance on a Saturday night,
all alone where I can hold her tight.
But she lives on the 20th floor uptown.
The elevator's broken down.
So I'll walk 1, 2 flight, 3 flight, 4,
5, 6, 7 flight, 8 flight, more.
Up on the 12th I'm startin' to drag,
15th floor I'm a-ready to sag.
Get to the top,
I'm too tired to rock!
When she calls me up on the telephone,
"Come on over baby, I'm all alone."
I said, "Baby you're mighty sweet
but I'm in bed with the achin' feet."
All this climbin' is a-gettin' me down.
They'll find my corpse draped over a rail.
1, 2 flight, 3 flight, 4
5, six, 7 flight, 8 flight, more.
Up on the 12th I'm ready to drag,
15th floor I'm startin' to sag.
Get to the top,
I'm too tired to rock!
Up on the 12th I'm ready to drag,
15th floor I'm startin' to sag.
Get to the top,
I'm too tired to rock!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
Ay yai yai!
Soon up high in the sky,
the tyrant shall shine again.
Already stirring in
their blankets of marble
are the solemn heroes of thought.
Along the river,
couples prepare a leavetaking
with one last caress
that only in a few moments,
could have been called
"public indecency."
To the defense of that decency,
the lance of Don Quixote rises.
No, Don Quixote is one of us.
He has always left in peace
the windmills of Moulin Rouge.
Along the streets and squares,
here are the first to go to work.
And here are the last who haven't
resigned themselves to going home.
Night and day have
their brief encounter.
The night is lost
inside the morning.
The alleys slowly
become brighter.
and comes the sun.
Sun, sun, sun,
smiling through houses,
it comes in, it come in.
Every thing?
becomes cleaner.
The clothes waving in the sky,
the voices in the street,
the first song.
Wake up, painters.
Choose your colors,
with green
and the water of the sea.
Sea, sea, sea,
beat against the prow
for hours, hours.
Sails and winds?
Yeah, "sea, sea! Sun, sun!"
Let's raise this hymn to life
returning with a wave of light,
to the work in the fields,
to the toil in the offices,
to the bills that come due,
to the taxes, to the fines.
Take heart.
You just need to hang in
there for 8 or 9 hours,
because the night will return.
Imagination will return
in this splendid
capital of Europe that rises
in a spot that's
yet too imprecise.
A spot that we want
as north as possible.
In that extreme north
where the nights, they say,
last for 6 months.
English subtitles
by sineintegral@KG