L'Immortelle (1963) - full transcript

Excuse me,

is it far to Beykböy?

By car?

I’m on foot.

And you’re going to Beykböy?

I’m trying.

You came from Istanbul?

Yes.

Then you passed Beykböy

a long way back.

It’s that way.

Did you walk the whole way?

I took the steamer as far as Emirgan.

I must’ve taken a wrong turn.

I’m heading back to town.

I can drop you off, if you like.

Thank you,

that’d be more prudent.

You’re not from here.

I just arrived.

You’re French?

No. Why?

You’re a foreigner

and you’re lost.

You've just arrived

in the Turkey of legends:

mosques, fortresses,

walled gardens, harems.

Just like in books.

And today you’re going to Visit

the White Palace of Beyköy.

No, Beyköy is where I live.

An empty house on the water

with trees overhanging it.

You’ll be staying for a while?

One year, two years.

One never knows.

I’m a professor.

Now you’re on vacation?

Yes. I have a month to get settled.

Do you like it here?

I haven’t seen much.

I need a car.

I haven’t found what I’m looking for.

What sort of car?

What sort? I’d like ...

Would you like to come in?

One room is almost fit to be seen.

There.

I can’t.

I must be getting back.

Then come on Sunday,

around 5:00.

I’ll be entertaining some colleagues

and their friends,

people I hardly know, or not at all.

In short, people like me.

Exactly.

Will you come?

Why not?

This is Mr. Yaffe.

Mrs. Marche.

I don’t even know your name.

It doesn’t matter.

Call me Leila.

Catherine, I believe.

Catherine Carayon.

But —

We’ve already met.

How are you?

Istanbul is a small town.

Everyone has met everyone somewhere.

Here you go.

Thanks.

May I offer you a drink?

What’s going on?

I don’t know.

What are they saying?

I don’t know.

I don’t understand

a word of Turkish.

May I offer you a drink?

If you like.

What do you think

of the women here?

I’m still new.

I haven’t had time to find out.

Didn’t you offer to show me

the seraglios, mosques, and bazaars?

Did I say that?

Tea, please.

Hello.

We’ll have to hurry to catch the ferry.

Want a drink?

No time.

Leave 50 piastres

and let’s go.

There’s the mosque

of your dreams.

You speak Turkish today?

No, just Turkish for tourists,

like all the rest.

This is all a product

of your imagination.

You’re sailing along

the Asian side of the Bosporus.

Below the minarets, you glimpse

wooden houses, tightly shuttered,

where the women are cloistered.

They’re no longer cloistered.

What does that matter?

Obviously, the boats are fake.

They carry female prisoners

from Sicily and Portugal

to serve for the Sultan ’s pleasure.

Do you know the poems

of Sultan Selim?

They are full of flowers and perfumes,

greenery, cool fountains

and slim jets of water.

Which Sultan Selim?

I don ’t know. Whichever.

They are all named Selim

and they all wrote the same poems

with the same clichéd imagery

that recurs like fetishes.

Or passwords you utter

to pass through the garden gate

and enter the palace

of your sleepless nights.

Fragile constructions

by the water’s edge,

the mythical East of postcards,

plaster facades,

trompe l’oeil decorations

painted on stretched canvas

all around your room.

Do you recognize them?

The columns and the porticos?

You see the pool in the garden?

I see a hand, an arm,

a bare shoulder with a silver chain.

It’s not silver.

This isn’t a real chain.

Leila isn’t your real name, either.

My name is Lale.

It means “tulip.”

It’s a lovely name

and it suits you.

It’s like that building.

You’d assume it’s a mosque.

It’s not. It’s the Maritime Museum.

What is it?

Are you cold?

It’s nothing.

I must’ve been dreaming.

It’s time to go.

Do you understand French?

Did you see a woman

waiting here before I arrived?

Madame? Here? Wait?

No madame here today.

Very beautiful.

Very beautiful mosque.

Old Turkish ceramics.

Very beautiful.

Were you praying?

No.

I was playing.

Besides, women

aren’t allowed to pray here.

Why not?

Because they’re impure.

Didn’t you know?

They are inferior beings

and devils.

All they’re good for

is making love.

Very beautiful mosque.

Very old.

Very old.

Very old ceramics. Very old.

Very old. Very old.

It’s all false, Of course.

What?

What he said.

It’s not old at all.

It was rebuilt after the war.

But it’s in all the guidebooks.

Guidebooks, of course!

What else did he say in Turkish?

I have no idea.

Yet you listened so attentively.

Only out of politeness.

Yes. It was probably

words of welcome for foreigners.

You also gave him money.

Yes.

For looking after your shoes.

Was I supposed to meet you

outside or inside the mosque?

Inside.

I waited for you outside. The old man

said no woman had entered.

In what language?

He probably had no idea what you asked.

For madame, only 60 lira.

It’s very old.

Naturally.

It is, madame.

I guarantee it.

Take it anyway,

if you like it.

Could you wrap it?

Right away, sir.

Did madame find the piece of jewelry

she was looking for the other day?

Jewelry?

No, but it wasn’t important.

That’s also for tourists,

obviously.

But there aren’t any tourists.

There’s you and me.

Neither me nor you.

I wonder what you’re doing in Istanbul.

I walk around with you

and so forth.

And the rest of the time?

I await you, my lord.

What else is there to do here?

It’s obviously not a real town.

It’s just a stage set

for a love story.

Not here. There are too many windows

all around us.

What does it matter,

if they’re fake houses?

Who’s that?

My maid.

She’s pretty.

Fairly pretty.

Who’s the fat man?

I don’t really know.

He’s always around.

He might be her father.

Or husband.

He must beat her.

She lives with you?

I think so. Somewhere upstairs.

It’s such a big house.

Does she serve you well?

I suppose.

But when I need her,

I never know where she’s at.

No one is out there.

Okay.

Would you like

to go out in the boat?

It’s too hot.

Before, you wanted to go.

I don’t want to anymore.

Lale.

In Turkish, it means “tulip”?

Yes.

Why do you have a Turkish name?

Yours is André. That’s Greek.

Let’s go out on the boat now.

First, tell me what you’re doing here.

Here I am,

kneeling before you on the grass.

With my left hand,

I lean against the ground.

In life, I mean.

Ah! In life.

And also, where you live.

What for?

To know where to find you.

At my home?

That’s impossible.

| always know where to find you,

so why bother?

| live in —

Happy now?

I’ll write it down.

Give me some paper.

You already know everything about me.

Don’t bother looking.

It’s a fake address.

I’ll have to beat you.

Oh, yes!

What did she say?

How should I know?

You know her?

Yes and no.

I run into her sometimes.

My house is that way.

Obviously, it’s all fake.

Byzantium.

They’re building it now.

It’s called “restoration.”

Call it what you like.

It doesn’t change anything.

More “tourist” Turkish?

It’s not Turkish. It’s Greek.

To show us

the underground passages.

Didn’t you want to see them?

Why bother? They were dug last year.

You didn’t say you spoke Greek.

Do you speak Greek?

Of course not.

Then why should I have told you?

It’s of no use to us.

I have to go.

Don’t come with me.

Tomorrow, at my place?

No, not before Friday.

I’ve explained where to meet.

Kiss me.

Not here.

Oh, it’s you.

Yes, sir.

Just getting back now?

It’s late.

I was here, sir.

And this afternoon —

Yes, sir?

or this evening, before I got back,

did anyone come to call?

No, sir. No one.

Are you sure?

Yes, sir.

I was here the whole time.

The woman who comes here —

You know who I mean.

You must have

seen her a few times.

Did she stop by

while I was out?

No one came today, sir.

Tell me —

Yes, sir?

What’s your name?

Lale, sir.

It means “tulip.”

Two letters, sir.

From where?

From France, sir.

Both of them?

Yes, sir.

You know what I’m waiting for.

No other messages?

No, sir.

I don’t know, sir.

Hello. How are you?

Hello.

Remember me?

You came to my house with a friend.

Of course I remember.

I need to talk to you.

About what?

Do you remember the young woman?

No.

Not here.

Let’s go somewhere quieter.

She might be traveling.

If she went away or is too busy,

she’d have sent me a note.

Maybe she’s too closely watched.

Some women here

live very strange lives.

She seemed free enough.

That might have changed.

Have you known her long?

I don’t remember.

You see each other often?

Rarely.

From time to time,

at friends’ houses,

women’s gatherings.

What did she talk about?

What did she talk about?

I can’t remember.

That day, it seemed like

you two had a lotto discuss.

No. I don't remember.

I’m not even sure we spoke

that day.

You never knew who she was,

her name, or where she lived?

Her first name, perhaps.

One day someone called her Eliane,

or Liane.

Something like that.

Who? At whose house?

Who knew her?

I don’t know.

I do know where I saw her,

but you mustn’t mention me,

ever.

I’ll give you their name

and address.

Give me something to write on.

You understand French.

You know who I’m looking for.

Yes. A blond woman.

I don’t think she’s French.

She’s French. I know her.

Her name is not Lale.

It’s not Eliane, either.

It’s Lucille.

I don’t know her last name.

But I’ll tell you how to find her.

Remember Socrates Nikosakis.

He’ll take care of it.

You’ll find him

at the address I gave you.

Nikosakis.

From morning till noon.

Tell him Cornelius sent you.

That’s not me, it’s my associate.

Cornelius.

Take my advice: Be careful.

You don’t know this country.

Well, well. You’re a nice fellow.

I’ll help you.

Cornelius, you say?

Which one?

It doesn’t matter.

You’re alone in Istanbul?

I understand.

I know what you need:

a beautiful girl, right?

Not too fat.

No?

Now, don’t be angry.

You’re a nice fellow.

Since she means so much to you,

I know your Lucille well.

She’s not as tall as you say,

and much younger.

But you’re wasting your time.

A big car?

No, that’s not likely.

And this place can

sometimes be dangerous.

That’s your business.

In any case, he’s not French.

No. The guy with the dogs

has nothing to do with it,

but still, be careful.

It’s best to contact her

through one of her relatives,

a friend of mine.

No.

I don’t know who you mean.

Nikosakis must be mistaken.

That woman has dark hair,

very dark.

And her name is Lale,

not Lucille.

Anyway, it’s not her.

Is she tall?

No, she’s short.

You’re wasting your time,

my dear fellow.

Thank you.

It must’ve been a mistake.

As for the white convertible,

there are dozens in town,

all women’s.

| just saw one on my way home

not ten minutes ago.

Could you tell me where?

If you like.

In front of the Selim Mosque.

But you’re wasting your time.

Did you understand me?

Outside the door, there.

A white car.

Automobile.

No white automobile.

Only black automobile.

Do you know the lady

that was here the other day?

Madame. Here. You know?

There is none.

There is none.

|t greatly resembles the other one,

doesn’t it?

What other one, sir?

The one I bought here

a while ago.

A while ago? Here?

Perhaps it was a similar piece.

It looks like the same one.

How could it be,

if you bought it?

Yes, of course.

But someone could have returned it.

You must be joking.

Madame was too pleased with it.

Is that statuette really an antique?

Very old, sir, and very rare.

I guarantee it.

Tell me, about that lady —

I have jewelry, if you wish.

Intimate adornments.

Oriental. Very lovely.

No, that’s not it.

I hope madame is well?

Yes, very well.

Thank you.

A woman. Here.

Came with me.

She lives in the neighborhood.

Do you know where her house is?

Madame? House?

You know the lady?

Her house?

In this street?

Further up?

Excuse me,

do you speak French?

Please, not here.

I’ll explain later.

Where are you going?

Home. Leave me alone.

I beg you, be careful.

We mustn’t be seen together.

I couldn’t contact you.

It was impossible. I’ll explain.

You’re mistaken.

No one was with me.

I must go home.

But not here.

Not until we’re in my car.

I waited for you.

I looked for you.

I questioned strangers

who might know you.

Did you discover anything?

No. Nothing.

I learned nothing.

Now talk. Explain yourself.

Say something.

A bit further first.

I’ll explain. But not here.

What are you afraid of?

Who are you afraid of?

I’m not afraid.

I’m not afraid.

He hurts me.

At night

I am free.

I’m not afraid.

Faster.

My body.

It’s too difficult.

There’s my house.

If you like, we can stop.

Where are we going?

Further on.

You saw him.

We must keep going.

You had no idea where you were headed

when the accident occurred?

No, I don’t.

I think she was just driving aimlessly.

That’s fine. Everything is in order.

You can go home.

Could you tell me something

about her?

What?

You said you hardly knew her.

What good would it do,

now that she’s dead?

This is all a product

of your imagination.

There ’s the mosque

of your dreams.

It’s crumbling.

And there’s the ship

of your dreams,

but it wasn't seaworthy.

Now everything

must start over again.

Let’s start again together.

You think you’re that strong?

Don’t be so sure of yourself.

Don’t be so sure of me.

It’s nothing.

I must’ve been dreaming.

Did the barking scare you?

I wasn’t scared. What barking?

There was no barking.

Who was the man in dark glasses

that was with you the first time we met?

Why do you ask?

I’ve often wondered about it.

I don’t know who you mean.

I was alone that day.

She must have been lying.

Did you ever meet that man?

Never.

You should have told the police.

I tried. They just smiled.

As if they knew exactly

who he was.

Or as if I were obsessed

with absurd details.

They didn’t answer any

of my questions.

I’m not surprised.

It’s like the man

whose address I gave you.

They’re probably in league together.

Strange things happen here, you know.

What son of things?

Kidnappings, secret prisons,

girls being sold.

All kinds of bizarre trafficking

on behalf of foreign countries.

Hello.

We’ll have to hurry to catch the ferry.

I meant to ask you,

there, outside the house —

Yes, sir?

Have you ever noticed

a fisherman sitting on a chair?

He’s not a fisherman, sir.

What’s he doing, then?

Nothing, sir.

Do you mean him?

No, another man.

With a fishing line.

Then he’s probably a fisherman.

You’ve seen him?

Do you know him?

No, sir.

I didn’t see anything.

Because they’re impure.

Didn’t you know?

Why didn’t you wait

by the fountain as planned?

It wasn’t possible.

Someone was there.

Are you afraid you’re being watched?

I’m not afraid.

I’m free.

Very beautiful mosque.

Magnificent.

Foreigners always come back here.

Very beautiful.

Very old.

Wounded, sir?

Hand wounded?

Accident?

Battle?

Turkish husband very jealous.

Ladies locked up in harem.

Old, very old.

Ladies not behave,

he makes them die.

You know something...

perhaps.

Excuse me, for the ferry,

where’s the nearest stop?

But ... aren’t you —

Heading for Istanbul?

No, Beykb‘y.

Then, it’s that —

Recognize me?

We have a mutual friend:

Catherine Carayon.

We all have mutual friends.

I wanted to ask,

did you also know the young woman

killed in the car accident?

It wasn’t an accident.

She was with a man

who crashed into a tree on purpose.

That’s impossible.

She was the one driving.

So I heard. He was next to her

and grabbed the steering wheel.

Why would he do that?

I don’t know. Jealousy.

I don’t know.

I’m not allowed to speak to you.

And the man,

what became of him?

I don’t know.

I think he’s dead too.

Has this fender been repaired?

Never!

It’s new, brand new.

Goes very fast.

It was in an accident.

Never, sir!

No accident. None at all.

The gentleman went away for long trip.

Yes.

I’ll think about it.

Do you speak Greek or Turkish?

Greek, right?

Remember the lady

with the white car?

There you have it.

A cemetery.

Or what they call

a cemetery here:

an abandoned lot

with grazing goats

and children playing marbles

on the paths.

There are also graves here.

They aren’t real graves.

They never bury anyone here.

They used to.

This one might be closed.

Then they’re all closed.

They’re all the same,

hundreds of them,

all over the city.

Sometimes

they stretch for miles.

You believe this one is old

because the stones are crooked.

They place them that way on purpose,

to make it look better.

When they finally crumb/e,

they are used as paving stones

or sidewalks

and you walk over them

Without giving it a thought.

The ramparts of Byzantium.

They’ll have to be rebuilt yet again.

From the Marmara Sea

to the Golden Horn,

you pass a line of crumbling towers,

as far as the eye can see,

to the Fortress of the Seven Towers.

But you stroll aimless/y.

You’re a foreigner.

You’re in the Turkey of your dreams.

Fake prisons, fake ramparts,

fake stories.

You can't turn back,

and to escape,

the boats are fake too,

obviously.

A bit further first.

I’ll explain.

Further on.

You saw him.

We must keep going.

Faster, faster.

It’s too difficult.

You ’re mistaken.

No one was with me.

Go faster. Faster!