Goodbye Happiness (2021) - full transcript
Four brothers, opposite to each other, are in the Magdalen Islands to pay tribute to their deceased father where several problems arise.
1978 - MAGDALEN ISLANDS
- What the hell are they doing?
- So you've got all the paperwork?
Yes, everything.
- You have the keys?
- No, I don't.
- Yes.
- Yes, we do.
You know someone who can housesit?
- Philippe, our flight.
- Right.
I must reiterate there's no legal recourse
against the seller. It's as is.
As is.
- You saw the second-floor staircase?
- Yes, yes.
And the roof out back?
Yes. Great roof.
People usually call a cab when they need one.
- Absolutely. Take a picture for us?
- Philippe.
Laura, we have a house on the Islands!
Come on, one picture!
- Marcel, get in here.
- Come on.
- Thanks. Okay, we have to go.
- Happy trails.
Goddammit all to hell...
Regis, I'll mail the cheques from Montreal.
Laura, we have to remember the cheques.
- They won't bounce this time, Mr. Philippe?
- Of course not. Uh...
- Laura, remind me about the cheques.
- Absolutely.
- The funds, too, huh?
- I'll mail the cheques from Montreal.
- Thanks for taking care of the house, Regis.
- Yes, thanks for everything. Really.
Excuse me. When you call a cab,
it's because you want a damn cab.
Come on, let's take a picture, Regis.
Goddangit, freakin' hell...
Careful, boys. Come on, Thomas. Let's go.
- Come on.
- Go, sweetie. There we go.
Laura, listen.
They can't go on if the payments are late
and trickle in.
The foreman said he's losing money every day.
Yes, I understand, Regis.
Philippe's on an important call.
- Laura, construction has to stop.
- Laura!
Laura!
The deal.
- It came through. This is huge.
- Listen, Philippe--
No, no. No need to worry anymore.
We're good now.
- Are we taking a picture?
- Yes, a picture!
With the kids. Come, children.
This is huge!
Don't you think
it's going to be backlit?
Cheese!
"Cheese." What the hell?
Mr. Philippe, with a big camera like that,
I could've taken a nice photo too.
- Your photos were great, Conrad.
Great.
GOODBYE HAPPINESS
Philippe Lambert had a knack for happiness.
Larger than life, he was in turn...
a brilliant businessman...
an artist...
a poet...
a leader...
a dreamer, a devoted husband...
and a wonderful father.
We all think our fathers are the best, but...
Philippe really was.
Philippe was, above all, a man of his word.
That's why I was surprised to learn
he'd lost his long battle last Saturday.
I was surprised because... he'd made a promise.
A promise to come with us to the Islands
one last time.
This man of his word had promised.
It's a pity that with this last promise, Philippe,
a man admired by all...
faltered.
Don't worry, Dad.
We'll help you keep that last promise.
Before joining Mom...
you'll spend a week with us... at home.
- Has he hurt anyone?
- No.
No! No.
Thomas.
Calm down.
- I-I-I think we're making... a mistake.
- Look.
We've discussed this at length--
Cremating Dad was an abstract concept. Now...
it's real.
All too real.
- Okay.
- They'll take...
this 82-year-old man with a terrible makeup job--
- No, it... it wasn't.
- It's awful!
A... a man lives a good life.
An honest life.
A remarkable life.
He raises four sons,
with his wife...
by the sweat of his brow...
and ends up looking like a drag queen.
No, he didn't.
I don't want this.
I don't want Dad reduced to ashes.
- What's going on?
- Nothing.
- Nothing.
- Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
- Nothing.
- Nothing at all.
- I'm not ready!
- Thomas.
Thomas.
Dad's gone.
Dad's gone.
- Agreed.
- Which football jersey are you taking?
Actually, I'm... kind of fine-tuning the story.
- I'll pack your Philadelphia jersey.
- No. I won't be playing football.
I told you, I'm writing 24/7.
- I'll pack it, just in case.
- No!
- William?
- Yes.
- We can't work--
-Yes. Actually, I'm fine-tuning Act 3.
Then, I'll... I'll--
Yes, I understand, but we're really behind.
William, we... should've cast by now--
- I know, I know.
But I'm just polishing Act 3.
I can't... Actually, I don't want...
I don't want to hand in a script
with a less-than-perfect third act.
Can we get Acts 1 and 2
so we can get started?
- I need a few days.
- Okay...
Listen, last week, we reviewed Melissa's script.
It's much further along than we expected.
Give me a few days.
Damn it.
"Damn it"?
- Have you seen the time?
- Uh, no.
I'm kind of busy right now.
You're watching the clock?
No, not at all.
But... kind of.
I have to... pick up my kids.
They're at their moms'.
And get my dad's ashes.
I can't be late.
Things are kind of tense with my brothers already.
Unfortunately... we have to stop.
Now. Right now. We have to stop.
Understand? There's going to be...
You understand about the kids?
Huh? My dad...
My brothers...
Things are complicated.
Punctuality...
For my brothers...
Punctuality is...
P-p-punctuality is...
P-p-punctuality...
Punctuality.
Punctuality.
Next time, if you like,
we can explore different aspects of punctuality.
We could pretend you're really, really late,
and suddenly... you're very punctual.
- Hurry up, you'll be late.
- Very funny.
See you in a week!
Come to the Islands.
With your family?
I'll pick you up at 3:00.
Yeah. Yeah, yeah, it's just...
It's kind of complicated money-wise.
Thanks.
These days,
it's not easy financially, so...
Hey, Mathéo.
Don't touch anything in the car.
Okay? Nothing!
Uh, and do you remember
what we talked about? The money...
Things are complicated right now.
It's all pretty complicated,
money-wise.
It's been complicated for quite some time,
hasn't it?
- Yes, but it's...
- You need to get an actual job.
Maybe I'll call the other mothers.
No! Don't stir up shit
with the other mothers.
We could really benefit from standing in...
solidarity.
- Don't call the other mothers.
- Kind of like a workers' union.
- Don't organize a union. You'll get your money.
- Really? When?
Hello?
What's the address for the ashes?
- You don't have the ashes?
- Don't start, Thomas.
You had one thing to do, the ashes
and not missing the flight.
Why would I miss the flight?
I won't miss the flight.
You will and it won't wait for you.
They told you,
they're done waiting for you.
Quit it! I won't miss the flight!
Nicolas?
I wasn't on my phone...
Are your seatbelts on?
Mathéo, why aren't you wearing your seatbelt?!
Yours isn't on either.
Dad?
- Hello.
- Hi.
- How are you?
- Good.
Did you have a nice week
with your mom?
Yes.
Mathéo, stop picking fights.
Stop fighting
or I won't leave you alone in the car again!
No, Mathéo, that's enough!
I told you to stop with that.
We're not taking Mr. Krackpot.
He's not coming!
Alice. Mathéo, sit down!
You dropped the urn!
- Papy's ashes are all over the car.
- Papy? Where?
Out.
- Where's Papy?
- There. That's Papy.
He died.
They made him look like a drag queen,
they burned him and now, you've spilled him.
And Alice, you're actually trampling him.
Alice, you didn't notice
you're trampling Papy?
There she is.
- Whoa, sexy.
What did you just say?
Hi!
Okay, so...
meet Alice, Jérémy, Adèle and Mathéo.
- Hello!
I think you should know,
Mr. Krackpot's in my suitcase.
Final boarding call for flight 44
en route to the Magdalen Islands.
I won't miss the flight!
Stop calling!
Hi, Alice!
So, uh... everyone, this is Camille.
- Hi, pleased to meet you!
- Hello.
Hi.
My... my condolences.
- Very nice of you.
- Thanks.
Thank you very much.
Wow...
I'm sorry, but you're exactly like
in the play.
William, I loved your play.
You're very talented.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Maxime, don't stray too far!
Mathéo, get up.
Suitcase?
It stayed behind.
We'll get it tomorrow.
- Oh, no...
- Mathéo, get up.
Did anybody warn Liliane
so she could get the house ready?
Where's Dad?
Dad died.
Remember? We were at the church.
He looked like Joan Rivers.
Where are the ashes?
They're in the suitcase that
we'll get back tomorrow.
You put Dad into your checked luggage?
- Yes.
- Why didn't you carry him on?
I had to carry on Mr. Krackpot.
Mathéo, get up.
Come on, get up.
You're in for a good one, Mathéo.
- You can't talk to a child like that.
At least he gets a warning.
And that's usually good enough.
That's great. Perfect.
Okay, we're ready to go!
You negotiated those cabs expertly.
Is that a problem?
You really needed to save five bucks?
Have you seen these people?
They've got families to take care of.
Why does everything turn into a negotiation
with you?
Nicolas lost Dad.
- You lost Dad?
- I didn't--
You're aware that Dad died?
How could you lose Dad?
You had one thing to take ca--
- What's going on?
- Oh, nothing really.
- Nothing.
- Absolutely nothing.
- Nope.
Never been so eventless.
The cabs are ready, we're leaving.
- Everyone's here...
- Mathéo!
- Maxime!
- Mathéo! Go, go!
DO NOT DISTURB
Someone's in there.
- What?
- There are people in the room.
Charles, there's a Romanian family in my room;
they seem lovely, but...
- Charles, somebody's in my room.
- Charles, what's going on?
- Nothing!
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Everything's normal.
- Everything's fine.
- We'll tell you if anything happens.
Good evening.
Liliane.
Who are these people?
Well, th--
The Beaugrand-Champagnes
from Lac-Mégantic ar--
Why are they here?
Well...
I rented it out.
Rented it out?
I rented out the rooms.
Philippe hadn't sent money
in over a year.
Philippe has been ill for over a year.
And not just slightly ill, very ill.
So much so that he died.
Philippe died?
Yes.
No one told us.
- Nicolas...
- You had one responsibility.
That's a lot of "one" responsibilities.
Why am I always the one with
"one responsibility"?
Tomorrow morning...
you will relodge your clients.
Okay.
Then, we'll get in touch
with the police.
Okay.
I call shotgun on the big white couch.
What's going on, my love?
Philippe passed away.
I spent the night reserving rooms
for the clients.
Now, all I have to do is tell them
they have to move.
What about us?
The family might file a complaint
with the police.
The police?!
Why?
We used their property
without their consent.
Let's get to it.
Hey! What are you all up to?
Let's get going before
the adults wake up!
Let's go! Wake up!
There are-- Ow! Hey!
You'll pay for that!
RESTROOM
Good morning.
- 'Morning.
- 'Morning.
Don't stop! Let's go!
In here, you can taste
the smoked herring.
It's been curing for three months.
We smoke it to preserve it.
We'll delicately remove the fillet.
And now, you can taste the herring.
We'll just cut it in two.
Here I go!
- Hey, there!
- Hi!
Wait until you taste this, kids!
You'll see!
Me, me!
At first...
Don't just have the juice,
eat the entire thing.
Oh, and canelés!
These are... exceptional.
I'll take every last chocolate pot de crème
and a dozen black forest macarons.
Yes?
I've added up how much you owe us.
The money was used to pay
the employees' wages and house upkeep.
The roof needed repairs.
I tried to reach your father
on numerous occasions...
I left him messages, I...
We don't have the money.
You'll have to come up with it.
And that way,
I won't bring the police into it.
You invoiced the Shack?
Yes.
Philippe never did.
Not to my dad or to me.
I live there to look after this house.
Looking after a house like this
requires keeping track of things.
And clearly, you didn't do that.
I gave you a "special rate".
How are you?
- Who wants a tattoo?
- Me!
A lightning bolt!
- This one's beautiful!
- I like this one.
That's my favourite colour!
- This one!
- Oh my god!
Oh. Here.
- Absolutely.
- Really?
- It would look great. That size, too!
- No.
Yes. No!
Mathéo, put that away.
Are you sure you want one?
It's absolutely breathtaking.
Yes, it is.
But when you're 16...
it's different.
My father had to drag me here
when I was 16.
And so, to piss him off...
I ran away and got a tattoo.
- When you were 16?
- Yep.
Did your dad see it?
Did he see it?
I got it just so he'd see it.
Hey, Dad.
Nicolas, what have you done?
What have you done?
Laura!
He was furious.
And then, it became a tradition;
on my first day on the Islands,
every year...
Hi.
Dad.
What time is our reservation?
I don't know what time it's at!
I don't know how he didn't end up killing me.
Is it normal that I want to
ask you to marry me?
Excuse me?
Hold on. I didn't ask for your hand, I was just...
wondering if it's normal that,
in such wonderful lighting,
a guy like me has the urge to ask for the hand
of an absolutely ravishing woman in marriage.
Did you just ask me to marry you?
Uh...
no.
- No?
- I don't think so.
I don't appreciate that you just took off
with my child without my permission.
Duly noted.
Maxime?
Isn't he with the others?
Did you ever notice that
there are no pictures of me?
None.
Well... I'm sorry to hear that.
They haven't found your luggage,
what should we do?
Where's Maxime?
He went to gather red rocks.
Nicolas?
Yes?
What do we do if Dad's not here?
Where's Maxime?
We told you to stay close by. Where is he?
What will we do?
Uh, yes, well... that's a good question.
Liliane said you were out
buying provisions for tonight.
Yes.
Could you check with us
before making any decisions?
We were supposed to eat
at The Seafarer tonight.
No way! We're not eating there.
It's Dad's favourite restaurant,
and we're here to honour him.
Remember the promise we made?
To Dad.
In church.
In front of God.
Tomorrow, we dine at The Seafarer.
No, no, no! We're not eating there.
And when we retrieve Dad,
I have a list of activities for us to do.
Which we're not doing.
Why are you out of breath?
- Are you jacking off?
- I can assure you I'm not.
I rarely jack off when I'm talking with you.
Can I talk to Maxime?
Sure. Of course, you can.
Maxime!
Here he is.
You're Maxime.
- Hello, Dad?
- Mathéo?
Sorry, Mathéo wanted to talk to you.
Uh... No, Maxime! Don't shove that thing
in your mouth, your dad wants to talk to you.
Sorry, he just stuffed something
into his mouth.
Don't let him eat whatever he wants!
- The red rocks?
- Yes.
Would you please swallow that?
Uh... Thomas...
- You lost him.
- Maybe a little.
Couldn't you have lost
one of your own?
You have four,
and you barely know their names!
Actually, I regularly lose them.
But then, I find them!
Take one of mine.
- I don't want one of yours!
- Mathéo?
- I don't want Mathéo!
Neither do I, actually.
If I see another fatty,
you really want the exact same one?
He's not fat!
- Fuck.
- What do you mean, "fuck"?
Maxime!
Fuck!
Hello?
Nicolas?
It's your dad.
- Hello?
- Maxime? My son!
I'm writing.
- Hello!
- Hi.
- Please, come in.
- Thanks.
I have a suitcase here for a Mister... Lambert.
Yes!
This isn't the right suitcase.
- It's not?
- No.
Are you sure?
Yes.
It's written right there.
Benoît Leduc.
Well... what do we do now?
Retrieve the proper suitcase?
Okay, so... you don't want this one?
- No.
- Are you sure?
Yes.
Absolutely certain?
Yes.
Maybe you'd like to look in it?
I want our suitcase!
Fine.
Kids, put everything in the kitchen, okay?
- You always ruin everything.
- We found him!
- Why must you always ruin my life?
- We found him!
- Need help?
- Sure!
Thank you.
I just don't get it.
I'm extremely disappointed.
We get here and things are in a state...
Little fingers...
- Maxime enjoyed it?
- Very much so.
Wow, that's really nice.
- He told us about it!
- He did?
...dead trees over here.
It's one of the most beautiful houses
on the island.
The pièce de résistance!
- To the chef.
- To the chef!
You could take a minute to eat.
You know...
it wouldn't be the end of the world
if you started teaching again.
You know what, Camille,
being alone is being truly free.
If Carole asked me to take her back
tomorrow,
I'd refuse.
- Really?
- Yep.
Because I'm elsewhere now.
- I understand.
How's it going?
- Good.
- Good.
So...
I thought I'd take this moment,
since we're almost all present,
to tell you that I can get 2.8 million dollars
for the house.
You got an offer?
Yes. But we have to act now.
Dad's barely been gone a week...
I know.
But 2.8 million is over market value
and they're eager to buy,
so I thought I should tell you.
- Who are they?
The Jolivets.
They visited the house?
Yes.
When?
Two years ago.
Before Dad had even passed away,
you put the house up for sale.
"Over here are the bedrooms,
and here, the living room -
oh, don't mind the old geezer,
he'll be gone by then."
This is a business opportunity.
Dad's death isn't a business opportunity.
Nicolas,
what do you think?
Well, I could use the cash right now.
Sure, but what about all our family traditions?
Huh?
Where will we gather
if we sell the house?
Thomas, Dad is dead.
It's our individual responsibility
to build a life,
traditions, our own history.
No.
We're not selling.
So...
I don't want to go to jail.
We won't go to jail.
Yes, we will.
They don't send people to jail
for something like this.
Okay, okay...
You don't think they'd lock us up
for this?
We were caring for their house.
We're not criminals.
And let's just say "someone" forgot to mention
that they had a criminal record.
Dad hired every one of you,
so I know nobody has a criminal record.
But what if, while they were being hired,
"someone"...
"forgot" to mention
they had a criminal record?
Why would "someone" have done that?
Well, maybe "someone" was never hired
when they mentioned they'd gone to jail
for stealing cars
when they were 17.
And maybe they thought, during their interview,
that they'd do things differently
and say, "Nope, no criminal record."
That "somebody",
who's been to jail for car theft
and maybe also for selling a bit of hashish,
would they go to jail?
That "somebody" might go to jail.
Oh...
Tell me if I'm wrong, but...
was Thomas trying to seduce you
all evening?
A bit, yes.
And?
It was nothing.
Okay.
It was... nothing serious.
- No.
- Okay.
It's normal, isn't it?
Why is that?
You kind of stole his wife.
No, no, actually,
I didn't "kind of steal his wife."
Nothing ever happened between Carole and me.
Nothing.
- Nothing?
- Nothing.
Okay.
You two, alone at the Belmont,
that was a really ambiguous situation.
In the play.
In the play, yes, it was ambiguous.
But in reality, that night at the Belmont,
there was nothing ambiguous.
If you say so.
- I do.
- Okay.
But you are quite the seductor,
aren't you?
- Ugh...
I'm not criticizing!
That's what we like about you.
That you seduce us.
Without realizing it, sometimes.
Exactly.
It was pretty odd that
you asked her to meet you at the Belmont.
Why is that?
You're a man...
She's a woman...
Quite a lovely woman, even.
There you go!
They chose a beautiful actress
for the play,
which distorts everything.
Everything!
Because she's beautiful, everyone thinks,
"Of course, Nicolas would sleep with her."
But in reality, Carole
isn't that pretty.
Actually, she's not much to look at.
Reimagine the scene with a very plain actress.
- It's not the same.
It isn't! Not at all!
But because his play
became an enormous hit,
everyone thinks I slept with
my brother's wife.
Ever since that fucking play came out,
everyone thinks I'm a complete asshole!
Stop writing about me.
I don't want to see another fucking character
called Nicolas in your new goddamn play.
Or a character who has four kids
from four different women.
Anything else?
I'm not bipolar.
But Nicolas...
I'm spontaneous!
Do you have a diploma legitimizing
such a diagnosis?
- No.
- I didn't think so.
- That's not actually what's in the play.
And it's not me, as an author,
saying that.
One character in the play thinks Nicolas
might have bipolar traits.
Which he mentions 23 times.
Sure, but he's wrong.
Twenty-three times.
Yeah...
Which makes it funny.
So, what's your new play about?
Why don't you just tell us?
Tell us.
You're not the only one
who can write.
What are you doing?
I'm writing a play.
How's it going?
Huh? Good.
'Morning.
That's not it!
Just take it.
Come on! You stand to gain here.
It's a business-class suitcase.
I'm sure you'd like a Brioni
double-breasted blazer.
And there's an impressive amount of
high-quality toiletries.
There are six different perfumes
in there!
He was very elegant.
Sure, but maybe he'd like his own suitcase back.
We found him another.
He was... very pleased.
Here we are. As you can see,
it had been renovated.
And since you asked earlier,
the sun rises here...
The notary will be here soon.
Okay.
Oh, Charles...
I saw you with the Jolivets this morning.
The notary just got here.
Yes, be right there.
Those were the Schwarzmans,
not the Jolivets.
What?
Those weren't the Jolivets?
The Jolivets are offering 1.9 million.
- Didn't you say 2.8 million?
- We'll get 2.8.
- So, the Schwarzmans are offering 2.8?
- The Schwarzmans have no money.
I'd like to keep the house so we could
pass it on to our children
who would then pass it on to their own,
and so on...
- What are they...
- They were asked to attend.
Hello.
Have a seat.
Who's giving us 2.8 million exactly?
The Jolivets.
- Those whose offer is 1.9 million?
- What's going on?
- Nothing.
- We aren't selling the house.
What? We're selling the house?
- No! We're not selling it!
- Which is it: 1.9 or 2.8?
Okay...
This morning, the Schwarzmans played golf
with the Jolivets.
Okay.
Obviously, they mentioned that
Dad had died.
You hadn't told them?
No.
The Schwarzmans told the Jolivets
Dad had died,
that I'd invited them over
for breakfast,
and that they'd "kind of" visited the house.
The Jolivets called me, in a panic.
Okay...
Let's start.
It's quite simple, really.
Mr. Lambert mentions
the house only,
which he bequeaths,
evenly,
to his employees.
Marco!
What are you doing here?
Philippe left us the house.
Hello, Mr. Beauchemin, call me,
Charles-Alexandre Lambert, as soon as possible.
Okay.
Beauchemin's quite the lawyer.
A real killer.
Not the best lawyer in Montreal,
but the most cut-throat.
That's what we need now,
someone who'll intimidate them.
Beauchemin's perfect for the job.
Do we agree with Beauchemin?
What was he trying to tell us?
Beauchemin's a real tank.
Ferocious.
I wouldn't wish him upon
my worst enemy.
Dad downright hated us.
He played the loving-father part.
But now...
he's showing his true colours.
I get it now.
What exactly?
The way he looked at me.
His long silences.
Which I interpreted to be...
discreet signs of his love.
Beauchemin will help you
preserve your illusions.
It's actually quite beautiful.
You think it's beautiful?
It's a lovely gesture.
We have to respect his wishes.
It's what was written
in his will,
he's leaving the house
to his employees.
To those whom he really loved.
We're not leaving the employees
the family house.
It's remarkably consistent.
That's how he was.
No!
He was nothing like that!
The man who signed those papers
wasn't the dad we knew.
Did you notice the date?
Does this will represent our father's real values?
Dad was a brilliant businessman
who started with nothing, yet amassed
wealth never-before-seen in Quebec!
But the man who threw away the family fortune,
emptied bank accounts
and signed ridiculous documents
that was not our father!
He was a man whose illness had left him weakened
and overly sentimental!
The man who signed these documents
wasn't the father we once knew.
Liliane?
Phone call for you.
A lawyer, Mr. Beauchemin.
I got a call from Mr. Beauchemin.
Really?
Nice fellow...
Yes...
very nice.
I have bad news about your room.
I'm so sorry.
When one of the rooms is free,
I'll let you know, but...
for now, Charles-Alexandre...
this is all we have.
I gave you a "special rate".
Yes?
Magnificent.
Yes. Isn't it?
I wasn't talking about the room.
And actually,
we could apply a similar idea
to other houses.
It would benefit a bunch of people.
- Really?
We'd have staff in every house.
And we all know the Islands aren't short on
big, beautiful houses.
Really?
And isn't it a pity to see so many
big, empty houses?
It really is.
We could sleep elsewhere.
I'm not about to rent a room when
I own a 6,000-square-foot house.
Jesus Christ!
I saw a rat.
Only one?
Yes, only one.
What should we do about it?
It would be best if there were zero rats.
Okay. I hear you.
You want one less rat.
Your brothers are going to play golf.
Thomas!
Golf!
Come on. We're leaving.
It's a tradition.
You're the one who thinks we should
maintain family traditions.
Don't you think we're too old for that?
With all our children here...
It's our special time amongst brothers.
I work hard and I don't think
golfing once a year is the end of the world.
Some people become addicted to golfing.
Get your ass in gear,
we're going to play golf.
Ah, fuck.
ISLAND GOLF
So...
we don't have anything to say anymore?
Nope. Nothing to say.
You all piss me off!
Nico!
That play,
what did you write about?
Oh, uh...
It's the story of a family who gathers at the
family home in the Islands every year.
Okay!
One of the brothers' children
is a bit chubby,
he's afraid he'll become obese,
like his father.
He's ashamed and tries to hide himself.
Great. Keep going.
His father is going through an existential crisis.
He believes his own father, the one who's died,
loved him less than his brothers.
For days, he ponders the question:
why did his dad love him less?
But then, one day,
he finds a Super 8 reel.
On its case,
his name and date of birth.
He finds the Super 8 projector, but
its bulb is missing.
He goes on a wild goose chase
through the streets of Montreal,
visits every last electronics shop.
No one stocks this bulb,
but everyone he talks with mentions a "Jerome".
You must ask Jerome.
You must ask Jerome.
You must ask Jerome.
You must seek Jerome. You must seek Jerome.
Find Jerome.
So, one night, during a full moon,
as the clock's about to strike midnight,
the obese brother finds Jerome's
strange little shop,
in a dark alleyway.
- Impossible.
The shops would be closed at midnight.
Jerome finds the bulb
and that's when
heated negotiations get started
between the obese brother and the character
who turns out to be none other than... the Devil.
Oh, okay!
If Jerome is indeed the Devil,
I'll buy into the storyline about
the shop being open late.
If you're the Devil, I doubt anyone
will bother you about your opening hours.
The brother wants the bulb
and so, he pays the price.
The Devil's price.
- How much?
- What do you think the Devil wants?
His soul.
For a bulb? That would be asking for a lot...
- Five-hundred bucks?
- That's more likely.
Indeed.
The brother gets the machine running
and starts the projection.
Strangely, the film starts on a very long shot
of the mother's nether regions.
Very long, too long, in fact.
Seemingly eternal.
Anyway, this big baby comes out -
he's very big.
The mother places the baby on her chest -
he's incredibly big, huge -
and, immortalizing the moment, the father,
the man holding the camera, comes closer
to the mother and babe,
revealing...
that Uncle Wilfred is actually
the fat brother's father.
Uncle Wilfred isn't my dad!
Dad is my dad!
And neither my son nor I are fat!
This isn't about you.
Of course it is!
I'm the only fat one in this family!
- But you...
- I'm not fat!
I'm not fat!
I'm not fat!
What's your play about?
For four years now...
I haven't written a thing.
It's writer's block.
For the last four years.
Tomorrow, we're going to The Seafarer.
We're not going to The Seafarer.
- I've already reserved.
- Stop that. We're not going to The Seafarer!
Enough.
The phone's for you.
Mr. Beauchemin.
...but after verifying all the paperwork,
we noted that there's
an outstanding mortgage on it.
Meaning what?
Mr. Lambert left you the house,
but you must consider the mortgage balance.
How much is it?
One million two hundred thousand.
One million two hundred thousand?
You owe the Imperial Bank 1.2 million dollars.
Beauchemin informed me of the situation
and here's my proposal.
I can offer you this amount for the house
and mortgage balance.
Twelve thousand dollars.
Three thousand for each employee.
I don't understand.
You'll never be able to buy the house.
No one will give you a mortgage.
Have you ever tried to get a mortgage?
It's no easy task for people
in your situation.
Besides, you can't even sell the house,
Mr. Beauchemin is going to challenge the will.
And whether or not there's a basis
for the challenge,
the problem you're faced with
is that you can't afford to get lawyers
to fight Beauchemin.
So...
whether this mortgage balance is fact
or fiction...
your problems, they're real.
And I'm offering to buy you out of
those problems
for 12,000$.
Do you need some time?
It's a great opportunity.
Could you please put my luggage back into
the master bedroom?
Dear friend,
with this message, I wish to inform you that
my inspiration for this play has run dry.
Utter emptiness fills me,
I have nothing intelligent or witty to say,
it's a desert wasteland.
Thus, I attest that I am breaking our contract.
I'm sorry. William Lambert
I'm officially a History professor.
Hey, V-Valerie!
You're trampling the road!
Where are the kids?
The kids are lazy.
Well...
- We just pointed out the road!
- Watch the road!
Being a professor is great.
It's the most noble
of professions.
...a bit of meat and some veggies,
and then, we eat with our hands.
So, you taste once with your fingers,
and once more...
with your mouth.
Nicolas. Congrats.
It's delicious.
Camille?
Come here.
I want to show you something.
What is it?
You'll love living on the Islands.
I'm not living on the Islands.
You'll love it.
I'm not living on the Islands.
You'll love living on the Islands.
- I'm not living--
- You'll love it.
No!
I'm not living...
Yes?
Liliane.
About the bed and breakfast...
Your brother made it clear,
there won't be a B&B.
I know, but... maybe we could work on this
together?
- Together?
- Yes.
What do your brothers think of this?
Well, let's just say we have to...
work on a great presentation.
ROOM RATES -
PER NIGHT - PER WEEK
No, no, we can do better than that.
I haven't had a coffee yet.
I just want one coffee.
Please, just one coffee?
Just an espresso with some chocolate.
Just let me grab a coffee!
Who's touching my bum?
Just one coffee!
Please, just let me go!
Oh, come on! This one's good!
Two Vuittons
and one iPod Mini!
You're not getting anything else.
Nothing else!
It's simple.
If we keep doing what we were doing,
and working like we were working,
in addition to our wages,
we'll make a small monthly profit.
- "Small profit"?
- Yes.
But we'd have to reserve a bit of it
for unexpected costs, small repairs, for example.
That's our "small profit"?
Yes.
Every month?
Yes.
So, I have grey or blue.
The blue one.
Can I grab a shirt too?
- Sure.
Yes? Okay, great.
Shoes too.
Thanks! Oh, the coat! Bye.
This margin of profit could easily
increase from 8 to 14 percent.
And these are our current numbers,
but chances are they'll grow
owing to Mr. Lambert's expertise.
And Liliane has been renting out rooms
for two years now.
And if you turn to page 18, you'll find
the economic forecast for the next five years.
These numbers factor in a yearly two-week vacation
for the family.
Unless we chose otherwise.
If that's the case,
our profits will only increase.
Okay, right. Charles, Charles...
You wanted to sell the house.
Thomas, you wanted to keep it.
And Dad saw it otherwise.
But I think we can have our cake
and eat it too.
We'd all be owners,
and we'd pay the employees dividends,
that way, Dad's happy.
I'll take care of everything
for a very small wage, nothing much. And...
we divide the profits.
We all make a bit of money
and you can come here whenever you want.
This way, everyone's happy.
Anyway, that's what I'd like.
Actually, it's been a dream of mine
forever.
Really?
What do you say?
Sorry, it's not for me.
It's the perfect solution for everyone.
Everyone would benefit! Everyone!
This is my calling.
I open the bed and breakfast,
I cook.
The family can come anytime,
when you're not there,
we rent the rooms.
Everyone wins.
Why don't you speak up?
There he is.
Don't forget, we reserved
at The Seafarer tonight.
We're not going to The Seafarer!
How may I help you?
In two days, we're holding a ceremony to
scatter our father's ashes.
My condolences.
What could you propose if...
we no longer had the ashes?
You... lost the ashes?
Maybe...
What...
What do the Scriptures say?
They say that one shouldn't lose the ashes.
But they have been lost.
So, what can we do?
Cancel the ceremony.
But we want to pay tribute
to our father.
By losing his ashes?
- And what does the Old Testament say?
- Yes!
Either there are ashes or there aren't.
If you'll excuse me.
- No wonder their fucking churches are empty.
- Nicolas!
Thanks for your help.
You are aware Jesus had three children
with Mary Magdalene, right?
He did mushrooms in the desert!
It's not too late
to go elsewhere.
Come on, let's just cancel the reservation
and go elsewhere, okay?
Nicolas, you told the manager
the Islands lamb roast was disappointing,
that the veal tataki was somewhat bland,
and that the seal lacked refinement.
I believe it was also clear that
their wine list was absolutely insipid,
that the atmosphere is...
- Vapid.
- Vapid.
And that the service was...
- Dreadful.
They get it. Do you really think
it's necessary to discuss their croxignoles?
So... how is... everything?
- Good!
- Thank you!
- Scrumptious.
- Very good.
Delicious.
- Thank you.
- Exceptional. Truly exceptional.
Exceptional because as you know,
croxignoles are the Islands' emblematic dessert.
Every Islander knows how to make
a croxignole.
Except for your chef.
So, really...
bravo!
Exceptional.
If you can do better, go ahead!
- What my brother was actually saying...
- Okay. Okay!
Ma'am, if I may,
what did you order?
The basil-lemon scented scallops.
Ah, wonderful.
Wonderful!
Sir, no! Hold on!
Oh, wow. This one.
You see? Those,
those are basil-lemon scented scallops.
- Excuse me, Sir, what did you order?
- The beef and lobster.
- Perfect.
- Great.
A bit more.
This one.
What are you doing?
- I don't know!
- Fired. You're fired. Get the shallots!
Charles!
- Yes!
Whisk.
Okay. How do you like this?
Yes!
This one.
This one.
This one.
I'm sorry.
I imagine that's not how you wanted to
pay tribute to Dad.
You know, unlike you,
I always did what was expected of me.
Always.
I think that's why Dad didn't see me.
Did you know there's not a single
picture of me in our family albums?
There are plenty of pictures of you.
Yeah, there are pictures of me,
I'm in quite a few pictures, but...
there's not one single picture of me.
Oh, stop...
- Come on.
- No.
We can come back to The Seafarer
to have a proper farewell for Dad.
I hope so.
"No pictures of me."
You're such an idiot sometimes.
- I miss Carole.
- Enough with Carole.
- I miss C--
- Stop that!
You probably don't know this...
because I never told you,
but the very first performance
of my play, in a tiny venue,
was a disaster.
A total flop.
A total embarrassment.
That evening, my play was...
excessively awkward. It was...
appalling, actually.
William.
It was splendid.
Dad congratulated me
as if he'd just seen a masterpiece.
What moves me to this day is that...
he was wrong.
But...
he believed in it.
He truly believed in it.
So...
I needed to prove him right.
And so, as you know, the play became a hit.
But on that night,
Dad was the only one
who believed in it.
Charles.
Dad always said that our family
is our greatest asset.
So, Charles,
why do you invest in everything but your family?
You're an exceptional chef.
But unfortunately, this isn't
a "true opportunity".
Why not?
You're my brother...
and despite what you may think,
I'm very fond of you.
But you're not a businessman.
I don't trust that you can be ruthless
when it's necessary.
There's no way the family is investing
in your bed and breakfast.
You have my vote.
Yeah.
I need one more vote.
Thomas.
Thomas.
Thomas. What do you say? Huh?
Come on, Thomas,
you know you want the house.
Yes, but Dad wan--
No, Thomas! Quit it with Dad!
I'm asking you.
What do you want, huh?
For once, stand tall, be a man.
For once, make sure people see you!
This is your moment, Thomas.
It's your moment, Thomas.
Your moment.
Yes.
- What?
- Huh?
I'm sorry, what?
Yes.
So, Charles, I don't care that you think
this isn't a "true opportunity."
You're not the head of this family.
Even though you may strut around
pretending you are,
even though you proclaimed yourself
head of this family,
despite your efforts, despite making
so much money
and moving around
within the world of finance's upper echelons,
you'll never be half the man Dad was.
Because with you, it's all about appearances.
Your eulogy at Dad's funeral
made me sick.
Actually, had you asked any of us
if you could deliver it? No.
No. No!
Because, of course, you would
take this "opportunity"
to let Dad's associates know that
you were taking control of things.
Your eulogy wasn't about a son's love
for his father, it was...
marketing.
It was an opportunity to declare,
"The king is dead, long live the king."
Our father, he earned those people's respect,
and above all, their friendship.
Dad started with nothing
and became widely admired.
But you'll always be a very ordinary man,
jumping from one opportunity to the next.
You're nothing but an opportunist.
Did you know that Dad invested $658,000
in Nicolas's restaurant?
How many months was it open?
How much of that investment
did Dad recover?
I'm not saying that we should deduct that amount
from Nicolas's inheritance,
I'm not saying he should inherit less -
Dad was the one who chose to invest,
he assumed the financial risks -
but I thought you should know since
Nicolas is asking us to invest in his project.
And I think it's important that you understand
with whom you're going into business.
Charles, you know very well that
we had to close because of permit issues.
All I know is that within 13 months,
your restaurant was closed.
Because of the permits!
Will you take full responsibility for
your restaurant closing?
Clearly, there's no correct answer.
If you say it was your fault,
we don't want to go into business with you,
and if you don't take full responsibility, we're
just as unlikely to go into business with you.
Over 100 restaurants open every year
in Quebec.
Last year, I opened the best one.
We were the best new restaurant
in the entire province.
And despite being "the best restaurant
in the entire province,"
you cost Dad $658,000.
I take back my vote.
So do I.
No, no, no! Hey, no! No! No!
Should we cancel the ceremony?
Thanks.
Yep.
Well?
Why are we here?
Since... I lost our father's ashes,
we have no ashes for the ceremony.
The ashes we dropped in your BMW?
No. No, Mathéo, we cleaned up
all those ashes.
The ashes we dropped in your apartment?
No!
- No, we didn't drop his ashes in my apartment.
- I did.
I didn't understand it was Papy,
so I swept them under the couch.
Well, there may be a bit of Papy left
at my house.
I think the cat ate them; he kept going
under the couch...
...and he was purring--
- Okay. There's a bit of Papy in Mr. Krackpot?
There might be some in his litter because--
Okay, that's enough, Mathéo, thanks.
I gathered you here because...
I lost our father's ashes.
It's entirely my fault.
I'm sorry I've ruined everything.
Again.
But I want to make a suggestion:
I'm asking everyone to bring something
that, in their eyes, represents Dad.
- William?
- Coming!
Thanks.
What for?
Thank you.
The employees and I would like to
go with you to scatter Philippe's ashes.
- Out of the qu--
- Yes.
Of course.
You're more than welcome.
I'm looking at porn.
What will your brothers say?
I don't know.
But suddenly, I'm inspired.
Thomas?
I'm ready.
- I forgot the urn.
- Good job.
- You forgot it too.
- Seriously?
Good job.
- You forgot it too!
Goodbye, Dad.
Go and be with Mom.
Rest in peace.
Rest in peace.
On behalf of the employees,
I'd like to extend the entire Lambert family...
our most heartfelt condolences.
When I was a little girl, every time
Philippe came to the Islands,
he spent his last night here
chatting with my dad.
I was too young to understand
what these very different men could be talking
about, but...
to this day, I remember the respect
I could see for my dad in Philippe's eyes.
You? You're scared?
Later, I realized that before he took
a big decision,
Philippe came to the Islands.
Before making an important decision,
your father came here to think
and clear his mind.
He wasn't an Islander, but...
we were always proud to think that
he felt at home here.
Thank you, Liliane.
Go! Be free!
What the hell, Mathéo?
Jesus Christ, Mathéo! He'll get eaten!
Hey.
At the height of his career,
my dad had 250 employees.
I have 2,000...
across the world.
None of them would insist on
attending my funeral.
Come on. We're going home.
PORTRAIT OF THOMAS LAMBERT
Look at him.
Look at how happy he is.
He's working them.
He's marvellous.
Thank you.
Three.
I got three million.
I refused it.
The bed and breakfast has my vote.
I hope you'll prove me right.
We will.
Absolutely.
It's a "true opportunity".
Hurry up. Let's do this quickly.
Closer together!
I've got your suitcase.
I've got your suitcase!
Oops.
- Guten Morgen!
- Where were you?
- I'm here now!
- We're so late!
- Guten Morgen!
- Guten Morgen.
Guten Morgen.
Did anyone read the script?
No.
He's insisting on our presence...
at the opening performance.
I certainly won't be there.
There's no way.
I won't be there!
Time to go.
That night, my play was bad.
No, really, it was appalling.
And grossly inaccurate.
That may be so...
What do you mean "grossly inaccurate"?
I'm not bipolar!
But Dad believed in it.
And as you know,
the play became a big hit.
But that night, Dad was the only one
who believed in it.
Charles?
What about those dishes I prepared tonight?
Didn't I bring the life to the party?
That's what our bed and breakfast
would be like.
I don't trust that you can be ruthless
when it's necessary.
- Dad wanted--
- No...
Go on!
- Yeah...
- What's that?
Yes, I'm with you.
GOODBYE HAPPINESS
Thanks. That's very nice of you.
- Very nice.
- Congratulations. That was wonderful.
Thank you so much.
Well... thanks for coming.
Congratulations.
- Thanks.
- Yes, congrats.
I took notes; I'll send them along.
Oh, okay.
It was a caricature.
Exactly.
Nicolas's right. It was a caricature.
Do you have to exaggerate everything?
- You really insist on specific things.
- It would've been nice to read it.
It's a misrepresentation.
And what's this thing with Carole?
I think about her, but not that much.
- Can I talk to the actor who portrays me?
- Being a professor is decent.
- It's really good.
- Really great.
A wonderful career.
Nicolas...
you were right.
Family is our greatest asset.
It's true.
But only if we take our rightful place
within it.
And this...
this is where I belong.
It was really fucking great.
- Let's get a drink.
- Yes!
A drink to the author!
Oh, check it out.
The reviews are coming in.
- Wow.
- What?
- Wow!
- What?! Show me!
The Daily loved it.
Oh, The Tribune!
"The Lambert family's triumphant return!"
- Who wrote it?
- Hélène Castonguay.
- Meh...
- She says she loved the bipolar character.
Jesus Christ!
Oh, come on!
- This is bullshit, William.
- It's clear he's not bipolar!
- She's looking forward to a sequel!
- No way! No sequel!
For fuck's sake,
time to move on.
No, it would be great.
A trilogy!
No. No, no! William,
anything but a trilogy!
- What the hell are they doing?
- So you've got all the paperwork?
Yes, everything.
- You have the keys?
- No, I don't.
- Yes.
- Yes, we do.
You know someone who can housesit?
- Philippe, our flight.
- Right.
I must reiterate there's no legal recourse
against the seller. It's as is.
As is.
- You saw the second-floor staircase?
- Yes, yes.
And the roof out back?
Yes. Great roof.
People usually call a cab when they need one.
- Absolutely. Take a picture for us?
- Philippe.
Laura, we have a house on the Islands!
Come on, one picture!
- Marcel, get in here.
- Come on.
- Thanks. Okay, we have to go.
- Happy trails.
Goddammit all to hell...
Regis, I'll mail the cheques from Montreal.
Laura, we have to remember the cheques.
- They won't bounce this time, Mr. Philippe?
- Of course not. Uh...
- Laura, remind me about the cheques.
- Absolutely.
- The funds, too, huh?
- I'll mail the cheques from Montreal.
- Thanks for taking care of the house, Regis.
- Yes, thanks for everything. Really.
Excuse me. When you call a cab,
it's because you want a damn cab.
Come on, let's take a picture, Regis.
Goddangit, freakin' hell...
Careful, boys. Come on, Thomas. Let's go.
- Come on.
- Go, sweetie. There we go.
Laura, listen.
They can't go on if the payments are late
and trickle in.
The foreman said he's losing money every day.
Yes, I understand, Regis.
Philippe's on an important call.
- Laura, construction has to stop.
- Laura!
Laura!
The deal.
- It came through. This is huge.
- Listen, Philippe--
No, no. No need to worry anymore.
We're good now.
- Are we taking a picture?
- Yes, a picture!
With the kids. Come, children.
This is huge!
Don't you think
it's going to be backlit?
Cheese!
"Cheese." What the hell?
Mr. Philippe, with a big camera like that,
I could've taken a nice photo too.
- Your photos were great, Conrad.
Great.
GOODBYE HAPPINESS
Philippe Lambert had a knack for happiness.
Larger than life, he was in turn...
a brilliant businessman...
an artist...
a poet...
a leader...
a dreamer, a devoted husband...
and a wonderful father.
We all think our fathers are the best, but...
Philippe really was.
Philippe was, above all, a man of his word.
That's why I was surprised to learn
he'd lost his long battle last Saturday.
I was surprised because... he'd made a promise.
A promise to come with us to the Islands
one last time.
This man of his word had promised.
It's a pity that with this last promise, Philippe,
a man admired by all...
faltered.
Don't worry, Dad.
We'll help you keep that last promise.
Before joining Mom...
you'll spend a week with us... at home.
- Has he hurt anyone?
- No.
No! No.
Thomas.
Calm down.
- I-I-I think we're making... a mistake.
- Look.
We've discussed this at length--
Cremating Dad was an abstract concept. Now...
it's real.
All too real.
- Okay.
- They'll take...
this 82-year-old man with a terrible makeup job--
- No, it... it wasn't.
- It's awful!
A... a man lives a good life.
An honest life.
A remarkable life.
He raises four sons,
with his wife...
by the sweat of his brow...
and ends up looking like a drag queen.
No, he didn't.
I don't want this.
I don't want Dad reduced to ashes.
- What's going on?
- Nothing.
- Nothing.
- Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
- Nothing.
- Nothing at all.
- I'm not ready!
- Thomas.
Thomas.
Dad's gone.
Dad's gone.
- Agreed.
- Which football jersey are you taking?
Actually, I'm... kind of fine-tuning the story.
- I'll pack your Philadelphia jersey.
- No. I won't be playing football.
I told you, I'm writing 24/7.
- I'll pack it, just in case.
- No!
- William?
- Yes.
- We can't work--
-Yes. Actually, I'm fine-tuning Act 3.
Then, I'll... I'll--
Yes, I understand, but we're really behind.
William, we... should've cast by now--
- I know, I know.
But I'm just polishing Act 3.
I can't... Actually, I don't want...
I don't want to hand in a script
with a less-than-perfect third act.
Can we get Acts 1 and 2
so we can get started?
- I need a few days.
- Okay...
Listen, last week, we reviewed Melissa's script.
It's much further along than we expected.
Give me a few days.
Damn it.
"Damn it"?
- Have you seen the time?
- Uh, no.
I'm kind of busy right now.
You're watching the clock?
No, not at all.
But... kind of.
I have to... pick up my kids.
They're at their moms'.
And get my dad's ashes.
I can't be late.
Things are kind of tense with my brothers already.
Unfortunately... we have to stop.
Now. Right now. We have to stop.
Understand? There's going to be...
You understand about the kids?
Huh? My dad...
My brothers...
Things are complicated.
Punctuality...
For my brothers...
Punctuality is...
P-p-punctuality is...
P-p-punctuality...
Punctuality.
Punctuality.
Next time, if you like,
we can explore different aspects of punctuality.
We could pretend you're really, really late,
and suddenly... you're very punctual.
- Hurry up, you'll be late.
- Very funny.
See you in a week!
Come to the Islands.
With your family?
I'll pick you up at 3:00.
Yeah. Yeah, yeah, it's just...
It's kind of complicated money-wise.
Thanks.
These days,
it's not easy financially, so...
Hey, Mathéo.
Don't touch anything in the car.
Okay? Nothing!
Uh, and do you remember
what we talked about? The money...
Things are complicated right now.
It's all pretty complicated,
money-wise.
It's been complicated for quite some time,
hasn't it?
- Yes, but it's...
- You need to get an actual job.
Maybe I'll call the other mothers.
No! Don't stir up shit
with the other mothers.
We could really benefit from standing in...
solidarity.
- Don't call the other mothers.
- Kind of like a workers' union.
- Don't organize a union. You'll get your money.
- Really? When?
Hello?
What's the address for the ashes?
- You don't have the ashes?
- Don't start, Thomas.
You had one thing to do, the ashes
and not missing the flight.
Why would I miss the flight?
I won't miss the flight.
You will and it won't wait for you.
They told you,
they're done waiting for you.
Quit it! I won't miss the flight!
Nicolas?
I wasn't on my phone...
Are your seatbelts on?
Mathéo, why aren't you wearing your seatbelt?!
Yours isn't on either.
Dad?
- Hello.
- Hi.
- How are you?
- Good.
Did you have a nice week
with your mom?
Yes.
Mathéo, stop picking fights.
Stop fighting
or I won't leave you alone in the car again!
No, Mathéo, that's enough!
I told you to stop with that.
We're not taking Mr. Krackpot.
He's not coming!
Alice. Mathéo, sit down!
You dropped the urn!
- Papy's ashes are all over the car.
- Papy? Where?
Out.
- Where's Papy?
- There. That's Papy.
He died.
They made him look like a drag queen,
they burned him and now, you've spilled him.
And Alice, you're actually trampling him.
Alice, you didn't notice
you're trampling Papy?
There she is.
- Whoa, sexy.
What did you just say?
Hi!
Okay, so...
meet Alice, Jérémy, Adèle and Mathéo.
- Hello!
I think you should know,
Mr. Krackpot's in my suitcase.
Final boarding call for flight 44
en route to the Magdalen Islands.
I won't miss the flight!
Stop calling!
Hi, Alice!
So, uh... everyone, this is Camille.
- Hi, pleased to meet you!
- Hello.
Hi.
My... my condolences.
- Very nice of you.
- Thanks.
Thank you very much.
Wow...
I'm sorry, but you're exactly like
in the play.
William, I loved your play.
You're very talented.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Maxime, don't stray too far!
Mathéo, get up.
Suitcase?
It stayed behind.
We'll get it tomorrow.
- Oh, no...
- Mathéo, get up.
Did anybody warn Liliane
so she could get the house ready?
Where's Dad?
Dad died.
Remember? We were at the church.
He looked like Joan Rivers.
Where are the ashes?
They're in the suitcase that
we'll get back tomorrow.
You put Dad into your checked luggage?
- Yes.
- Why didn't you carry him on?
I had to carry on Mr. Krackpot.
Mathéo, get up.
Come on, get up.
You're in for a good one, Mathéo.
- You can't talk to a child like that.
At least he gets a warning.
And that's usually good enough.
That's great. Perfect.
Okay, we're ready to go!
You negotiated those cabs expertly.
Is that a problem?
You really needed to save five bucks?
Have you seen these people?
They've got families to take care of.
Why does everything turn into a negotiation
with you?
Nicolas lost Dad.
- You lost Dad?
- I didn't--
You're aware that Dad died?
How could you lose Dad?
You had one thing to take ca--
- What's going on?
- Oh, nothing really.
- Nothing.
- Absolutely nothing.
- Nope.
Never been so eventless.
The cabs are ready, we're leaving.
- Everyone's here...
- Mathéo!
- Maxime!
- Mathéo! Go, go!
DO NOT DISTURB
Someone's in there.
- What?
- There are people in the room.
Charles, there's a Romanian family in my room;
they seem lovely, but...
- Charles, somebody's in my room.
- Charles, what's going on?
- Nothing!
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Everything's normal.
- Everything's fine.
- We'll tell you if anything happens.
Good evening.
Liliane.
Who are these people?
Well, th--
The Beaugrand-Champagnes
from Lac-Mégantic ar--
Why are they here?
Well...
I rented it out.
Rented it out?
I rented out the rooms.
Philippe hadn't sent money
in over a year.
Philippe has been ill for over a year.
And not just slightly ill, very ill.
So much so that he died.
Philippe died?
Yes.
No one told us.
- Nicolas...
- You had one responsibility.
That's a lot of "one" responsibilities.
Why am I always the one with
"one responsibility"?
Tomorrow morning...
you will relodge your clients.
Okay.
Then, we'll get in touch
with the police.
Okay.
I call shotgun on the big white couch.
What's going on, my love?
Philippe passed away.
I spent the night reserving rooms
for the clients.
Now, all I have to do is tell them
they have to move.
What about us?
The family might file a complaint
with the police.
The police?!
Why?
We used their property
without their consent.
Let's get to it.
Hey! What are you all up to?
Let's get going before
the adults wake up!
Let's go! Wake up!
There are-- Ow! Hey!
You'll pay for that!
RESTROOM
Good morning.
- 'Morning.
- 'Morning.
Don't stop! Let's go!
In here, you can taste
the smoked herring.
It's been curing for three months.
We smoke it to preserve it.
We'll delicately remove the fillet.
And now, you can taste the herring.
We'll just cut it in two.
Here I go!
- Hey, there!
- Hi!
Wait until you taste this, kids!
You'll see!
Me, me!
At first...
Don't just have the juice,
eat the entire thing.
Oh, and canelés!
These are... exceptional.
I'll take every last chocolate pot de crème
and a dozen black forest macarons.
Yes?
I've added up how much you owe us.
The money was used to pay
the employees' wages and house upkeep.
The roof needed repairs.
I tried to reach your father
on numerous occasions...
I left him messages, I...
We don't have the money.
You'll have to come up with it.
And that way,
I won't bring the police into it.
You invoiced the Shack?
Yes.
Philippe never did.
Not to my dad or to me.
I live there to look after this house.
Looking after a house like this
requires keeping track of things.
And clearly, you didn't do that.
I gave you a "special rate".
How are you?
- Who wants a tattoo?
- Me!
A lightning bolt!
- This one's beautiful!
- I like this one.
That's my favourite colour!
- This one!
- Oh my god!
Oh. Here.
- Absolutely.
- Really?
- It would look great. That size, too!
- No.
Yes. No!
Mathéo, put that away.
Are you sure you want one?
It's absolutely breathtaking.
Yes, it is.
But when you're 16...
it's different.
My father had to drag me here
when I was 16.
And so, to piss him off...
I ran away and got a tattoo.
- When you were 16?
- Yep.
Did your dad see it?
Did he see it?
I got it just so he'd see it.
Hey, Dad.
Nicolas, what have you done?
What have you done?
Laura!
He was furious.
And then, it became a tradition;
on my first day on the Islands,
every year...
Hi.
Dad.
What time is our reservation?
I don't know what time it's at!
I don't know how he didn't end up killing me.
Is it normal that I want to
ask you to marry me?
Excuse me?
Hold on. I didn't ask for your hand, I was just...
wondering if it's normal that,
in such wonderful lighting,
a guy like me has the urge to ask for the hand
of an absolutely ravishing woman in marriage.
Did you just ask me to marry you?
Uh...
no.
- No?
- I don't think so.
I don't appreciate that you just took off
with my child without my permission.
Duly noted.
Maxime?
Isn't he with the others?
Did you ever notice that
there are no pictures of me?
None.
Well... I'm sorry to hear that.
They haven't found your luggage,
what should we do?
Where's Maxime?
He went to gather red rocks.
Nicolas?
Yes?
What do we do if Dad's not here?
Where's Maxime?
We told you to stay close by. Where is he?
What will we do?
Uh, yes, well... that's a good question.
Liliane said you were out
buying provisions for tonight.
Yes.
Could you check with us
before making any decisions?
We were supposed to eat
at The Seafarer tonight.
No way! We're not eating there.
It's Dad's favourite restaurant,
and we're here to honour him.
Remember the promise we made?
To Dad.
In church.
In front of God.
Tomorrow, we dine at The Seafarer.
No, no, no! We're not eating there.
And when we retrieve Dad,
I have a list of activities for us to do.
Which we're not doing.
Why are you out of breath?
- Are you jacking off?
- I can assure you I'm not.
I rarely jack off when I'm talking with you.
Can I talk to Maxime?
Sure. Of course, you can.
Maxime!
Here he is.
You're Maxime.
- Hello, Dad?
- Mathéo?
Sorry, Mathéo wanted to talk to you.
Uh... No, Maxime! Don't shove that thing
in your mouth, your dad wants to talk to you.
Sorry, he just stuffed something
into his mouth.
Don't let him eat whatever he wants!
- The red rocks?
- Yes.
Would you please swallow that?
Uh... Thomas...
- You lost him.
- Maybe a little.
Couldn't you have lost
one of your own?
You have four,
and you barely know their names!
Actually, I regularly lose them.
But then, I find them!
Take one of mine.
- I don't want one of yours!
- Mathéo?
- I don't want Mathéo!
Neither do I, actually.
If I see another fatty,
you really want the exact same one?
He's not fat!
- Fuck.
- What do you mean, "fuck"?
Maxime!
Fuck!
Hello?
Nicolas?
It's your dad.
- Hello?
- Maxime? My son!
I'm writing.
- Hello!
- Hi.
- Please, come in.
- Thanks.
I have a suitcase here for a Mister... Lambert.
Yes!
This isn't the right suitcase.
- It's not?
- No.
Are you sure?
Yes.
It's written right there.
Benoît Leduc.
Well... what do we do now?
Retrieve the proper suitcase?
Okay, so... you don't want this one?
- No.
- Are you sure?
Yes.
Absolutely certain?
Yes.
Maybe you'd like to look in it?
I want our suitcase!
Fine.
Kids, put everything in the kitchen, okay?
- You always ruin everything.
- We found him!
- Why must you always ruin my life?
- We found him!
- Need help?
- Sure!
Thank you.
I just don't get it.
I'm extremely disappointed.
We get here and things are in a state...
Little fingers...
- Maxime enjoyed it?
- Very much so.
Wow, that's really nice.
- He told us about it!
- He did?
...dead trees over here.
It's one of the most beautiful houses
on the island.
The pièce de résistance!
- To the chef.
- To the chef!
You could take a minute to eat.
You know...
it wouldn't be the end of the world
if you started teaching again.
You know what, Camille,
being alone is being truly free.
If Carole asked me to take her back
tomorrow,
I'd refuse.
- Really?
- Yep.
Because I'm elsewhere now.
- I understand.
How's it going?
- Good.
- Good.
So...
I thought I'd take this moment,
since we're almost all present,
to tell you that I can get 2.8 million dollars
for the house.
You got an offer?
Yes. But we have to act now.
Dad's barely been gone a week...
I know.
But 2.8 million is over market value
and they're eager to buy,
so I thought I should tell you.
- Who are they?
The Jolivets.
They visited the house?
Yes.
When?
Two years ago.
Before Dad had even passed away,
you put the house up for sale.
"Over here are the bedrooms,
and here, the living room -
oh, don't mind the old geezer,
he'll be gone by then."
This is a business opportunity.
Dad's death isn't a business opportunity.
Nicolas,
what do you think?
Well, I could use the cash right now.
Sure, but what about all our family traditions?
Huh?
Where will we gather
if we sell the house?
Thomas, Dad is dead.
It's our individual responsibility
to build a life,
traditions, our own history.
No.
We're not selling.
So...
I don't want to go to jail.
We won't go to jail.
Yes, we will.
They don't send people to jail
for something like this.
Okay, okay...
You don't think they'd lock us up
for this?
We were caring for their house.
We're not criminals.
And let's just say "someone" forgot to mention
that they had a criminal record.
Dad hired every one of you,
so I know nobody has a criminal record.
But what if, while they were being hired,
"someone"...
"forgot" to mention
they had a criminal record?
Why would "someone" have done that?
Well, maybe "someone" was never hired
when they mentioned they'd gone to jail
for stealing cars
when they were 17.
And maybe they thought, during their interview,
that they'd do things differently
and say, "Nope, no criminal record."
That "somebody",
who's been to jail for car theft
and maybe also for selling a bit of hashish,
would they go to jail?
That "somebody" might go to jail.
Oh...
Tell me if I'm wrong, but...
was Thomas trying to seduce you
all evening?
A bit, yes.
And?
It was nothing.
Okay.
It was... nothing serious.
- No.
- Okay.
It's normal, isn't it?
Why is that?
You kind of stole his wife.
No, no, actually,
I didn't "kind of steal his wife."
Nothing ever happened between Carole and me.
Nothing.
- Nothing?
- Nothing.
Okay.
You two, alone at the Belmont,
that was a really ambiguous situation.
In the play.
In the play, yes, it was ambiguous.
But in reality, that night at the Belmont,
there was nothing ambiguous.
If you say so.
- I do.
- Okay.
But you are quite the seductor,
aren't you?
- Ugh...
I'm not criticizing!
That's what we like about you.
That you seduce us.
Without realizing it, sometimes.
Exactly.
It was pretty odd that
you asked her to meet you at the Belmont.
Why is that?
You're a man...
She's a woman...
Quite a lovely woman, even.
There you go!
They chose a beautiful actress
for the play,
which distorts everything.
Everything!
Because she's beautiful, everyone thinks,
"Of course, Nicolas would sleep with her."
But in reality, Carole
isn't that pretty.
Actually, she's not much to look at.
Reimagine the scene with a very plain actress.
- It's not the same.
It isn't! Not at all!
But because his play
became an enormous hit,
everyone thinks I slept with
my brother's wife.
Ever since that fucking play came out,
everyone thinks I'm a complete asshole!
Stop writing about me.
I don't want to see another fucking character
called Nicolas in your new goddamn play.
Or a character who has four kids
from four different women.
Anything else?
I'm not bipolar.
But Nicolas...
I'm spontaneous!
Do you have a diploma legitimizing
such a diagnosis?
- No.
- I didn't think so.
- That's not actually what's in the play.
And it's not me, as an author,
saying that.
One character in the play thinks Nicolas
might have bipolar traits.
Which he mentions 23 times.
Sure, but he's wrong.
Twenty-three times.
Yeah...
Which makes it funny.
So, what's your new play about?
Why don't you just tell us?
Tell us.
You're not the only one
who can write.
What are you doing?
I'm writing a play.
How's it going?
Huh? Good.
'Morning.
That's not it!
Just take it.
Come on! You stand to gain here.
It's a business-class suitcase.
I'm sure you'd like a Brioni
double-breasted blazer.
And there's an impressive amount of
high-quality toiletries.
There are six different perfumes
in there!
He was very elegant.
Sure, but maybe he'd like his own suitcase back.
We found him another.
He was... very pleased.
Here we are. As you can see,
it had been renovated.
And since you asked earlier,
the sun rises here...
The notary will be here soon.
Okay.
Oh, Charles...
I saw you with the Jolivets this morning.
The notary just got here.
Yes, be right there.
Those were the Schwarzmans,
not the Jolivets.
What?
Those weren't the Jolivets?
The Jolivets are offering 1.9 million.
- Didn't you say 2.8 million?
- We'll get 2.8.
- So, the Schwarzmans are offering 2.8?
- The Schwarzmans have no money.
I'd like to keep the house so we could
pass it on to our children
who would then pass it on to their own,
and so on...
- What are they...
- They were asked to attend.
Hello.
Have a seat.
Who's giving us 2.8 million exactly?
The Jolivets.
- Those whose offer is 1.9 million?
- What's going on?
- Nothing.
- We aren't selling the house.
What? We're selling the house?
- No! We're not selling it!
- Which is it: 1.9 or 2.8?
Okay...
This morning, the Schwarzmans played golf
with the Jolivets.
Okay.
Obviously, they mentioned that
Dad had died.
You hadn't told them?
No.
The Schwarzmans told the Jolivets
Dad had died,
that I'd invited them over
for breakfast,
and that they'd "kind of" visited the house.
The Jolivets called me, in a panic.
Okay...
Let's start.
It's quite simple, really.
Mr. Lambert mentions
the house only,
which he bequeaths,
evenly,
to his employees.
Marco!
What are you doing here?
Philippe left us the house.
Hello, Mr. Beauchemin, call me,
Charles-Alexandre Lambert, as soon as possible.
Okay.
Beauchemin's quite the lawyer.
A real killer.
Not the best lawyer in Montreal,
but the most cut-throat.
That's what we need now,
someone who'll intimidate them.
Beauchemin's perfect for the job.
Do we agree with Beauchemin?
What was he trying to tell us?
Beauchemin's a real tank.
Ferocious.
I wouldn't wish him upon
my worst enemy.
Dad downright hated us.
He played the loving-father part.
But now...
he's showing his true colours.
I get it now.
What exactly?
The way he looked at me.
His long silences.
Which I interpreted to be...
discreet signs of his love.
Beauchemin will help you
preserve your illusions.
It's actually quite beautiful.
You think it's beautiful?
It's a lovely gesture.
We have to respect his wishes.
It's what was written
in his will,
he's leaving the house
to his employees.
To those whom he really loved.
We're not leaving the employees
the family house.
It's remarkably consistent.
That's how he was.
No!
He was nothing like that!
The man who signed those papers
wasn't the dad we knew.
Did you notice the date?
Does this will represent our father's real values?
Dad was a brilliant businessman
who started with nothing, yet amassed
wealth never-before-seen in Quebec!
But the man who threw away the family fortune,
emptied bank accounts
and signed ridiculous documents
that was not our father!
He was a man whose illness had left him weakened
and overly sentimental!
The man who signed these documents
wasn't the father we once knew.
Liliane?
Phone call for you.
A lawyer, Mr. Beauchemin.
I got a call from Mr. Beauchemin.
Really?
Nice fellow...
Yes...
very nice.
I have bad news about your room.
I'm so sorry.
When one of the rooms is free,
I'll let you know, but...
for now, Charles-Alexandre...
this is all we have.
I gave you a "special rate".
Yes?
Magnificent.
Yes. Isn't it?
I wasn't talking about the room.
And actually,
we could apply a similar idea
to other houses.
It would benefit a bunch of people.
- Really?
We'd have staff in every house.
And we all know the Islands aren't short on
big, beautiful houses.
Really?
And isn't it a pity to see so many
big, empty houses?
It really is.
We could sleep elsewhere.
I'm not about to rent a room when
I own a 6,000-square-foot house.
Jesus Christ!
I saw a rat.
Only one?
Yes, only one.
What should we do about it?
It would be best if there were zero rats.
Okay. I hear you.
You want one less rat.
Your brothers are going to play golf.
Thomas!
Golf!
Come on. We're leaving.
It's a tradition.
You're the one who thinks we should
maintain family traditions.
Don't you think we're too old for that?
With all our children here...
It's our special time amongst brothers.
I work hard and I don't think
golfing once a year is the end of the world.
Some people become addicted to golfing.
Get your ass in gear,
we're going to play golf.
Ah, fuck.
ISLAND GOLF
So...
we don't have anything to say anymore?
Nope. Nothing to say.
You all piss me off!
Nico!
That play,
what did you write about?
Oh, uh...
It's the story of a family who gathers at the
family home in the Islands every year.
Okay!
One of the brothers' children
is a bit chubby,
he's afraid he'll become obese,
like his father.
He's ashamed and tries to hide himself.
Great. Keep going.
His father is going through an existential crisis.
He believes his own father, the one who's died,
loved him less than his brothers.
For days, he ponders the question:
why did his dad love him less?
But then, one day,
he finds a Super 8 reel.
On its case,
his name and date of birth.
He finds the Super 8 projector, but
its bulb is missing.
He goes on a wild goose chase
through the streets of Montreal,
visits every last electronics shop.
No one stocks this bulb,
but everyone he talks with mentions a "Jerome".
You must ask Jerome.
You must ask Jerome.
You must ask Jerome.
You must seek Jerome. You must seek Jerome.
Find Jerome.
So, one night, during a full moon,
as the clock's about to strike midnight,
the obese brother finds Jerome's
strange little shop,
in a dark alleyway.
- Impossible.
The shops would be closed at midnight.
Jerome finds the bulb
and that's when
heated negotiations get started
between the obese brother and the character
who turns out to be none other than... the Devil.
Oh, okay!
If Jerome is indeed the Devil,
I'll buy into the storyline about
the shop being open late.
If you're the Devil, I doubt anyone
will bother you about your opening hours.
The brother wants the bulb
and so, he pays the price.
The Devil's price.
- How much?
- What do you think the Devil wants?
His soul.
For a bulb? That would be asking for a lot...
- Five-hundred bucks?
- That's more likely.
Indeed.
The brother gets the machine running
and starts the projection.
Strangely, the film starts on a very long shot
of the mother's nether regions.
Very long, too long, in fact.
Seemingly eternal.
Anyway, this big baby comes out -
he's very big.
The mother places the baby on her chest -
he's incredibly big, huge -
and, immortalizing the moment, the father,
the man holding the camera, comes closer
to the mother and babe,
revealing...
that Uncle Wilfred is actually
the fat brother's father.
Uncle Wilfred isn't my dad!
Dad is my dad!
And neither my son nor I are fat!
This isn't about you.
Of course it is!
I'm the only fat one in this family!
- But you...
- I'm not fat!
I'm not fat!
I'm not fat!
What's your play about?
For four years now...
I haven't written a thing.
It's writer's block.
For the last four years.
Tomorrow, we're going to The Seafarer.
We're not going to The Seafarer.
- I've already reserved.
- Stop that. We're not going to The Seafarer!
Enough.
The phone's for you.
Mr. Beauchemin.
...but after verifying all the paperwork,
we noted that there's
an outstanding mortgage on it.
Meaning what?
Mr. Lambert left you the house,
but you must consider the mortgage balance.
How much is it?
One million two hundred thousand.
One million two hundred thousand?
You owe the Imperial Bank 1.2 million dollars.
Beauchemin informed me of the situation
and here's my proposal.
I can offer you this amount for the house
and mortgage balance.
Twelve thousand dollars.
Three thousand for each employee.
I don't understand.
You'll never be able to buy the house.
No one will give you a mortgage.
Have you ever tried to get a mortgage?
It's no easy task for people
in your situation.
Besides, you can't even sell the house,
Mr. Beauchemin is going to challenge the will.
And whether or not there's a basis
for the challenge,
the problem you're faced with
is that you can't afford to get lawyers
to fight Beauchemin.
So...
whether this mortgage balance is fact
or fiction...
your problems, they're real.
And I'm offering to buy you out of
those problems
for 12,000$.
Do you need some time?
It's a great opportunity.
Could you please put my luggage back into
the master bedroom?
Dear friend,
with this message, I wish to inform you that
my inspiration for this play has run dry.
Utter emptiness fills me,
I have nothing intelligent or witty to say,
it's a desert wasteland.
Thus, I attest that I am breaking our contract.
I'm sorry. William Lambert
I'm officially a History professor.
Hey, V-Valerie!
You're trampling the road!
Where are the kids?
The kids are lazy.
Well...
- We just pointed out the road!
- Watch the road!
Being a professor is great.
It's the most noble
of professions.
...a bit of meat and some veggies,
and then, we eat with our hands.
So, you taste once with your fingers,
and once more...
with your mouth.
Nicolas. Congrats.
It's delicious.
Camille?
Come here.
I want to show you something.
What is it?
You'll love living on the Islands.
I'm not living on the Islands.
You'll love it.
I'm not living on the Islands.
You'll love living on the Islands.
- I'm not living--
- You'll love it.
No!
I'm not living...
Yes?
Liliane.
About the bed and breakfast...
Your brother made it clear,
there won't be a B&B.
I know, but... maybe we could work on this
together?
- Together?
- Yes.
What do your brothers think of this?
Well, let's just say we have to...
work on a great presentation.
ROOM RATES -
PER NIGHT - PER WEEK
No, no, we can do better than that.
I haven't had a coffee yet.
I just want one coffee.
Please, just one coffee?
Just an espresso with some chocolate.
Just let me grab a coffee!
Who's touching my bum?
Just one coffee!
Please, just let me go!
Oh, come on! This one's good!
Two Vuittons
and one iPod Mini!
You're not getting anything else.
Nothing else!
It's simple.
If we keep doing what we were doing,
and working like we were working,
in addition to our wages,
we'll make a small monthly profit.
- "Small profit"?
- Yes.
But we'd have to reserve a bit of it
for unexpected costs, small repairs, for example.
That's our "small profit"?
Yes.
Every month?
Yes.
So, I have grey or blue.
The blue one.
Can I grab a shirt too?
- Sure.
Yes? Okay, great.
Shoes too.
Thanks! Oh, the coat! Bye.
This margin of profit could easily
increase from 8 to 14 percent.
And these are our current numbers,
but chances are they'll grow
owing to Mr. Lambert's expertise.
And Liliane has been renting out rooms
for two years now.
And if you turn to page 18, you'll find
the economic forecast for the next five years.
These numbers factor in a yearly two-week vacation
for the family.
Unless we chose otherwise.
If that's the case,
our profits will only increase.
Okay, right. Charles, Charles...
You wanted to sell the house.
Thomas, you wanted to keep it.
And Dad saw it otherwise.
But I think we can have our cake
and eat it too.
We'd all be owners,
and we'd pay the employees dividends,
that way, Dad's happy.
I'll take care of everything
for a very small wage, nothing much. And...
we divide the profits.
We all make a bit of money
and you can come here whenever you want.
This way, everyone's happy.
Anyway, that's what I'd like.
Actually, it's been a dream of mine
forever.
Really?
What do you say?
Sorry, it's not for me.
It's the perfect solution for everyone.
Everyone would benefit! Everyone!
This is my calling.
I open the bed and breakfast,
I cook.
The family can come anytime,
when you're not there,
we rent the rooms.
Everyone wins.
Why don't you speak up?
There he is.
Don't forget, we reserved
at The Seafarer tonight.
We're not going to The Seafarer!
How may I help you?
In two days, we're holding a ceremony to
scatter our father's ashes.
My condolences.
What could you propose if...
we no longer had the ashes?
You... lost the ashes?
Maybe...
What...
What do the Scriptures say?
They say that one shouldn't lose the ashes.
But they have been lost.
So, what can we do?
Cancel the ceremony.
But we want to pay tribute
to our father.
By losing his ashes?
- And what does the Old Testament say?
- Yes!
Either there are ashes or there aren't.
If you'll excuse me.
- No wonder their fucking churches are empty.
- Nicolas!
Thanks for your help.
You are aware Jesus had three children
with Mary Magdalene, right?
He did mushrooms in the desert!
It's not too late
to go elsewhere.
Come on, let's just cancel the reservation
and go elsewhere, okay?
Nicolas, you told the manager
the Islands lamb roast was disappointing,
that the veal tataki was somewhat bland,
and that the seal lacked refinement.
I believe it was also clear that
their wine list was absolutely insipid,
that the atmosphere is...
- Vapid.
- Vapid.
And that the service was...
- Dreadful.
They get it. Do you really think
it's necessary to discuss their croxignoles?
So... how is... everything?
- Good!
- Thank you!
- Scrumptious.
- Very good.
Delicious.
- Thank you.
- Exceptional. Truly exceptional.
Exceptional because as you know,
croxignoles are the Islands' emblematic dessert.
Every Islander knows how to make
a croxignole.
Except for your chef.
So, really...
bravo!
Exceptional.
If you can do better, go ahead!
- What my brother was actually saying...
- Okay. Okay!
Ma'am, if I may,
what did you order?
The basil-lemon scented scallops.
Ah, wonderful.
Wonderful!
Sir, no! Hold on!
Oh, wow. This one.
You see? Those,
those are basil-lemon scented scallops.
- Excuse me, Sir, what did you order?
- The beef and lobster.
- Perfect.
- Great.
A bit more.
This one.
What are you doing?
- I don't know!
- Fired. You're fired. Get the shallots!
Charles!
- Yes!
Whisk.
Okay. How do you like this?
Yes!
This one.
This one.
This one.
I'm sorry.
I imagine that's not how you wanted to
pay tribute to Dad.
You know, unlike you,
I always did what was expected of me.
Always.
I think that's why Dad didn't see me.
Did you know there's not a single
picture of me in our family albums?
There are plenty of pictures of you.
Yeah, there are pictures of me,
I'm in quite a few pictures, but...
there's not one single picture of me.
Oh, stop...
- Come on.
- No.
We can come back to The Seafarer
to have a proper farewell for Dad.
I hope so.
"No pictures of me."
You're such an idiot sometimes.
- I miss Carole.
- Enough with Carole.
- I miss C--
- Stop that!
You probably don't know this...
because I never told you,
but the very first performance
of my play, in a tiny venue,
was a disaster.
A total flop.
A total embarrassment.
That evening, my play was...
excessively awkward. It was...
appalling, actually.
William.
It was splendid.
Dad congratulated me
as if he'd just seen a masterpiece.
What moves me to this day is that...
he was wrong.
But...
he believed in it.
He truly believed in it.
So...
I needed to prove him right.
And so, as you know, the play became a hit.
But on that night,
Dad was the only one
who believed in it.
Charles.
Dad always said that our family
is our greatest asset.
So, Charles,
why do you invest in everything but your family?
You're an exceptional chef.
But unfortunately, this isn't
a "true opportunity".
Why not?
You're my brother...
and despite what you may think,
I'm very fond of you.
But you're not a businessman.
I don't trust that you can be ruthless
when it's necessary.
There's no way the family is investing
in your bed and breakfast.
You have my vote.
Yeah.
I need one more vote.
Thomas.
Thomas.
Thomas. What do you say? Huh?
Come on, Thomas,
you know you want the house.
Yes, but Dad wan--
No, Thomas! Quit it with Dad!
I'm asking you.
What do you want, huh?
For once, stand tall, be a man.
For once, make sure people see you!
This is your moment, Thomas.
It's your moment, Thomas.
Your moment.
Yes.
- What?
- Huh?
I'm sorry, what?
Yes.
So, Charles, I don't care that you think
this isn't a "true opportunity."
You're not the head of this family.
Even though you may strut around
pretending you are,
even though you proclaimed yourself
head of this family,
despite your efforts, despite making
so much money
and moving around
within the world of finance's upper echelons,
you'll never be half the man Dad was.
Because with you, it's all about appearances.
Your eulogy at Dad's funeral
made me sick.
Actually, had you asked any of us
if you could deliver it? No.
No. No!
Because, of course, you would
take this "opportunity"
to let Dad's associates know that
you were taking control of things.
Your eulogy wasn't about a son's love
for his father, it was...
marketing.
It was an opportunity to declare,
"The king is dead, long live the king."
Our father, he earned those people's respect,
and above all, their friendship.
Dad started with nothing
and became widely admired.
But you'll always be a very ordinary man,
jumping from one opportunity to the next.
You're nothing but an opportunist.
Did you know that Dad invested $658,000
in Nicolas's restaurant?
How many months was it open?
How much of that investment
did Dad recover?
I'm not saying that we should deduct that amount
from Nicolas's inheritance,
I'm not saying he should inherit less -
Dad was the one who chose to invest,
he assumed the financial risks -
but I thought you should know since
Nicolas is asking us to invest in his project.
And I think it's important that you understand
with whom you're going into business.
Charles, you know very well that
we had to close because of permit issues.
All I know is that within 13 months,
your restaurant was closed.
Because of the permits!
Will you take full responsibility for
your restaurant closing?
Clearly, there's no correct answer.
If you say it was your fault,
we don't want to go into business with you,
and if you don't take full responsibility, we're
just as unlikely to go into business with you.
Over 100 restaurants open every year
in Quebec.
Last year, I opened the best one.
We were the best new restaurant
in the entire province.
And despite being "the best restaurant
in the entire province,"
you cost Dad $658,000.
I take back my vote.
So do I.
No, no, no! Hey, no! No! No!
Should we cancel the ceremony?
Thanks.
Yep.
Well?
Why are we here?
Since... I lost our father's ashes,
we have no ashes for the ceremony.
The ashes we dropped in your BMW?
No. No, Mathéo, we cleaned up
all those ashes.
The ashes we dropped in your apartment?
No!
- No, we didn't drop his ashes in my apartment.
- I did.
I didn't understand it was Papy,
so I swept them under the couch.
Well, there may be a bit of Papy left
at my house.
I think the cat ate them; he kept going
under the couch...
...and he was purring--
- Okay. There's a bit of Papy in Mr. Krackpot?
There might be some in his litter because--
Okay, that's enough, Mathéo, thanks.
I gathered you here because...
I lost our father's ashes.
It's entirely my fault.
I'm sorry I've ruined everything.
Again.
But I want to make a suggestion:
I'm asking everyone to bring something
that, in their eyes, represents Dad.
- William?
- Coming!
Thanks.
What for?
Thank you.
The employees and I would like to
go with you to scatter Philippe's ashes.
- Out of the qu--
- Yes.
Of course.
You're more than welcome.
I'm looking at porn.
What will your brothers say?
I don't know.
But suddenly, I'm inspired.
Thomas?
I'm ready.
- I forgot the urn.
- Good job.
- You forgot it too.
- Seriously?
Good job.
- You forgot it too!
Goodbye, Dad.
Go and be with Mom.
Rest in peace.
Rest in peace.
On behalf of the employees,
I'd like to extend the entire Lambert family...
our most heartfelt condolences.
When I was a little girl, every time
Philippe came to the Islands,
he spent his last night here
chatting with my dad.
I was too young to understand
what these very different men could be talking
about, but...
to this day, I remember the respect
I could see for my dad in Philippe's eyes.
You? You're scared?
Later, I realized that before he took
a big decision,
Philippe came to the Islands.
Before making an important decision,
your father came here to think
and clear his mind.
He wasn't an Islander, but...
we were always proud to think that
he felt at home here.
Thank you, Liliane.
Go! Be free!
What the hell, Mathéo?
Jesus Christ, Mathéo! He'll get eaten!
Hey.
At the height of his career,
my dad had 250 employees.
I have 2,000...
across the world.
None of them would insist on
attending my funeral.
Come on. We're going home.
PORTRAIT OF THOMAS LAMBERT
Look at him.
Look at how happy he is.
He's working them.
He's marvellous.
Thank you.
Three.
I got three million.
I refused it.
The bed and breakfast has my vote.
I hope you'll prove me right.
We will.
Absolutely.
It's a "true opportunity".
Hurry up. Let's do this quickly.
Closer together!
I've got your suitcase.
I've got your suitcase!
Oops.
- Guten Morgen!
- Where were you?
- I'm here now!
- We're so late!
- Guten Morgen!
- Guten Morgen.
Guten Morgen.
Did anyone read the script?
No.
He's insisting on our presence...
at the opening performance.
I certainly won't be there.
There's no way.
I won't be there!
Time to go.
That night, my play was bad.
No, really, it was appalling.
And grossly inaccurate.
That may be so...
What do you mean "grossly inaccurate"?
I'm not bipolar!
But Dad believed in it.
And as you know,
the play became a big hit.
But that night, Dad was the only one
who believed in it.
Charles?
What about those dishes I prepared tonight?
Didn't I bring the life to the party?
That's what our bed and breakfast
would be like.
I don't trust that you can be ruthless
when it's necessary.
- Dad wanted--
- No...
Go on!
- Yeah...
- What's that?
Yes, I'm with you.
GOODBYE HAPPINESS
Thanks. That's very nice of you.
- Very nice.
- Congratulations. That was wonderful.
Thank you so much.
Well... thanks for coming.
Congratulations.
- Thanks.
- Yes, congrats.
I took notes; I'll send them along.
Oh, okay.
It was a caricature.
Exactly.
Nicolas's right. It was a caricature.
Do you have to exaggerate everything?
- You really insist on specific things.
- It would've been nice to read it.
It's a misrepresentation.
And what's this thing with Carole?
I think about her, but not that much.
- Can I talk to the actor who portrays me?
- Being a professor is decent.
- It's really good.
- Really great.
A wonderful career.
Nicolas...
you were right.
Family is our greatest asset.
It's true.
But only if we take our rightful place
within it.
And this...
this is where I belong.
It was really fucking great.
- Let's get a drink.
- Yes!
A drink to the author!
Oh, check it out.
The reviews are coming in.
- Wow.
- What?
- Wow!
- What?! Show me!
The Daily loved it.
Oh, The Tribune!
"The Lambert family's triumphant return!"
- Who wrote it?
- Hélène Castonguay.
- Meh...
- She says she loved the bipolar character.
Jesus Christ!
Oh, come on!
- This is bullshit, William.
- It's clear he's not bipolar!
- She's looking forward to a sequel!
- No way! No sequel!
For fuck's sake,
time to move on.
No, it would be great.
A trilogy!
No. No, no! William,
anything but a trilogy!