La Face cachée du baklava AKA the Sticky Side of Baklava (2020) - full transcript

Tuesday
5 days before departure

Hello?

Done! I have our tickets for Montpellier!

Great! Have you told your sister?

Not yet. I’ll tell her Sunday at brunch.

It’ll just be our two families.

Perfect for talking, no?

I’d have wanted to get it over with, but...

Where are you?
- I was at the agent’s. I’m on my way home.

Could you get some cucumbers
at the Lebanese grocer's?

But Pierre, I’m nearly home.



And rose water, for France.

A guy almost hit me.

I can’t believe people in Québec
still drive like that!

And the cucumbers?

Another one pretending
she doesn’t speak Arabic.

You're so cute!

Shit!

That shirt looks great on you!

The Sticky Side of Baklava

It’s like that in the department.
- Absolutely, François.

Happens every time!

You’re irreplaceable!

Hi, everybody!
- Émilie!

Sorry I’m late. Tax problems.



Did you invite Émilie?

No, I barely know her.
No idea who told her.

Look.

Look at that. It must’ve been him!

He’s fawning over her.

He’d do anything to get my class.

Go on, François. Your cue to laugh.

You see?

How about some wine?

The bastard knows how to sweet talk.

Just like you. The way you talk
to your new chairperson.

I’d like to raise a toast...

to our dear Pierre and Houwayda,
who will be greatly missed!

That wasn’t as good.

Sounded forced.

Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday, dear Houwayda,

Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday, dear Houwayda!

Funny how life works.

I have a job that
would be perfect for you.

Well paid.

Great benefits. A 5-year contract.
A fantastic opportunity!

What is it?

A course. Super interesting.

Made for you. Made to measure, even.

But don’t mention it to Pierre!

You’ve piqued my curiosity.

Let’s find a moment to talk about it.

What are you doing Thursday at 11?

There’s a contemporary art show
I hear is fabulous.

Contemporary isn’t really...

The critics gave it rave reviews.

They say it’s the show of the year.

Come!

You rented a furnished flat?

I guess.

Houwayda booked it.

Near the university?

That’s how we do things.

I mean, that’s how we do things now.

One day it’ll be different.

Émilie, you’re in the way.

Sorry.

I’ll be off.

So, you’ll come?

OK.
- Great!

She didn’t invite me.
She doesn’t like me.

Everyone likes you!

Don’t exaggerate.

Sis?

What’s going on?

It’s over. I left him.

Tell her.

A pleasure to see you, sister-in-law.

What happened this time?

Nothing. Nothing ever happens!

He gets home, grabs his bottle of arak,

and talks about Lebanon non-stop.
The same stories for 18 years!

Then he collapses in bed
and snores all night.

I made an ultimatum:
I work at the restaurant or I leave.

Work at the restaurant?

He pays that imbecile Edward a fortune
to sit there playing solitaire.

He should pay me, I’m his wife!

Edward, Edward?
- Yes, Edward!

He’s an imbecile now?

Yes. An imbecile and a limpdick,
for your information.

Goodnight, girls.

I won’t stay long.
- Stay the night.

You must have lots of secrets to share.

Thanks, Pierre!

Sis,

I know your party’s Saturday,
but I can’t let today go by...

Happy birthday, Houwayda!

Books aren’t my thing,
but you love to read.

I’m not really into pudding.

If it were about consumer culture...

Or a philosophical reflection on...

Philosophy? At least cookbooks
aren’t a waste of time!

Thank you, Joëlle. I’m very touched.

You shouldn’t have. Really!

It’s only normal that I spoil you, Sis.

Why all the rose water?

Are you opening a store?

It’s for us.

There’s enough for an army!

I put it in everything.

Desserts, meals, cereal,
tea, coffee... everything.

Absolutely everything!

What will you live on if you leave him?

I don’t know. We’ll see.

I never liked cognac.
Got anything else?

A drop of rose water?

Jean’s not a bad person.
He’s kind, generous...

You can have him!

What about the kids?
What happens to them?

Between Jean, you, and me, they’ll be fine.

“You?” Do you mean me?

Where do I fit in?

You’re their aunt. It’s normal.

Yes, but...

No! It won’t work, no.

I’m going to France for a year.

You’re going to France?

I’m leaving Sunday.

Sunday, Sunday...

This Sunday?

But...

Montpellier’s been inviting Pierre
to teach there for years.

So finally,

after all that time,

he decided to take a sabbatical.

And so, of course, I’m...

I’m going with him.

I was going to tell you Saturday
at brunch, Joëlle.

That’s amazing!

I’m so happy for you!

It’s amazing. Really amazing!

I hope there’s a Lebanese community.
A year’s a long time.

Wednesday
4 days before departure

How’d she take it?

Very well.
- You see?

She wants to leave Jean.
- She won’t if you’re gone.

She’s in the next room.

Good luck, my love!

Wakey, wakey!

The police could’ve arrested you.

Jean and I made up.

Great. I’m glad it’s working out.

Jean’s a good guy,
and it’s better for the kids.

Were you going to tell me?

Of course, I was going to at brunch.

Speaking of which,
shall we say around noon?

Yes. Wait, I have a call.

Good, so I’ll see you Saturday. Ciao.

Hit and Run Offenses

$200 to $600.

9 demerit points.

Shit!

Director, Human Resources

Hi.

Hi.

He’s not here.

No, no gun. But he went home.

I’ll send him the form
after he signs.

How can he sign it if he doesn’t have it?

I didn’t think of that.

I’ll send it so he can sign it first.

Smart thinking!

Fire her.

The union would jump on me.
- Seriously?

That’s how it works, Pierre.

Do you need me to sign anything?

No, not at all.

I wanted to show you this and to mention...

Your position is still open for the year.

You haven’t found a replacement?

No, it’s not that, but...

if you change your mind...
- We leave Sunday.

I know.

But sometimes life... Right?

Your French counterpart would object.

It’d only take a phone call.
Just say the word.

You’re very insistent.

Me? I’m not insisting.

I’m just checking you thought it through.

But I’m not insisting.

OK, then.

I was glad to see Houwayda yesterday.

You’re going to an art show.

Nothing special.

She has a PhD in literature, right?

Has she taught in Québec?

She’s Lebanese, you know.

It’s in their culture.

Not all Lebanese women have jobs.

Many stay home to look after
their husband and kids. It’s cultural.

And you don’t mind?

If she’s happy, I’m happy.

Keep reading, I can manage.

It’s nothing important.
- Really, I have this.

You’re sure?
- Absolutely!

Listen to this.

“A terrible weariness
fills the soul of my heart.

He who I never was saddens me

and I don’t know with what kind
of nostalgia I miss him.

I fell with every sunset,

against my hopes and uncertainties."
Fernando Pessoa.

Remember my thesis? I used that quote
to refer to multiple selves.

I’d hesitated between that
and metempsychosis.

Incredible.

Yes, I know!

I still regret not exploring immortality
from the angle

of lasting literature

rather than immortal man.

Unbelievable!

I’m glad you still find it engaging.

Pessoa’s work and life are so thrilling
that the theme of immortality seems...

How can I put it?

Sorry?

Are we expecting anyone?

Every five years
they require two references!

The passport people should know me.
It’s the fifth time I apply! Really!

Are they morons? Or is it because I’m Lebanese?
It’s one or the other!

You don’t know any Quebeckers?

We’re not close.

Pierre’s different.

You’re nice.

Yes, none of the other
8 million Quebeckers are nice.

He’s unique.

Did you interview them all
for your scientific analysis?

Don’t start up, please!

I didn’t tell you,
but Jean’s parents are in town.

Perfect timing to leave him!

It’s not that. But they’re coming Saturday.

Joëlle...

For my birthday I said I wanted
just our two families.

Something quiet.

It’s no big deal, Sis.

Najla dropped by this morning.
She remembers you fondly.

Remember her? From Maya’s baptism?

She has no kids, poor thing.
I guess she can’t.

Anyway, she’d love to see you.

She’s bringing her husband, Roger.

A sweetheart. You’ll love him!

He helps with the housework, runs errands.
Can you imagine?

The opposite of Jean!

Where was I? Oh yeah!

Anyway, the point is...

Liliane and Najla are neighbors.

I worried she’d feel left out.

I don’t want trouble.

So I invited her with her husband and two kids.

But Joëlle! Where will I put them all?

We were going to be seven.

And the next day we’re leaving for a year.

But I didn’t know that, obviously.

I have to go. Jean’s waiting. We’ll talk.

Sister-in-law...

So, then... Bye!

What do I do?

Cancel.

I can’t! What will I tell them?

Tell them

you have H1N, ebola...

You had an infarct, or a stroke...
- Not funny.

For her, appearances and family...

It’ll be a disaster!
- I hear you.

We’re going to be late.

We’ll take your car, OK?

Maybe I owe it to her.

Besides, I don’t want to feel guilty.

I’d prefer to get it over with.

Maybe it’s a good thing.

The only Lebanese I’ve met are your family.

Why do I always give in to others?

You’re very gracious.

That’s why we love you.

They’re here! They’re here!

What a beauty!
- My lovely Ouyada! Elegance personified.

You lucky bastard!

How sweet. Look!

How are you? Here!

Ouratya! Our beauty queen!

Let me give you a big hug!

Beauty! Sorry, I’m wobbly
because the lawn’s uneven.

Oudaya!

Hey, Oudada!

Hey, how are you?
- Uganda!

As elegant as ever.

Give me the flowers, Mom.

Get a vase. Why are you wearing that?

I’m going to get a beer.

Joëlle, I can’t talk.
I’m at my in-laws.

Guess who called.

Remember Maryse and her sister?
Kamal’s girls? You were all Brownies.

They cared for Dad after his operation.

Remember?

Well, she met Liliane,
who told her about your brunch.

Two seconds later, Maryse calls me up.
You should have heard her voice.

“You invite Liliane, and me, you ignore.

Growing up, Houwayda and I were like sisters.
We were in the Brownies together.

And it’s Liliane you invite!”

Can you imagine, Sis?

What’ll you do for a year in Montpellier?

I’m not sure yet.
- A year’s a long time.

Can you do anything with your PhD?

What’s a PhD get you?

You can teach, like Pierre.
- But that’s about it.

Years of study and no job?

You can rewrite your thesis as an essay

and get it published.

Beats working, say?

I’m sure Pierre will keep me busy.

Christ!

I don’t have a PhD, but my boyfriend

doesn’t make decisions for me.

OK?

Right, Pierre?
- What?

Inside joke!
- Turning her against me?

No!
- Why, are you worried?

Just butt out.

I can try, it’s a free country.

Ask your boyfriend.

We’re just talking.

No fighting.

We’re not fighting.

Hey, is somebody fighting?

In my humble opinion,
nobody here is fighting.

You can discuss, but not cuss,
or I’ll hit the bottle.

We’re discussing, not fighting.
Dis-cuss-ing!

All hell’s broken loose!

All hell’s broken loose!

All hell’s broken loose!

Help shuck the corn so we can eat!

Butt out. You’re sober!

We've never been to Montpellier.

I’d love to go to France!

Pierre would love a visit.

Really, Pierre?
- Yeah, you bet!

He already has a French cell.

Yeah?
- Give them your number.

Sure!

It’s 09 73

56 73 12.

12?
- 12.

We’ll write it down.
- Good idea.

A beer, hon?
- Alright!

Here.

Is that your fourth?

Who’s counting?

Maybe you should.

Want me to stop?

Nah, it’s open.

But we’ll stay in a hotel.

No way.
- Absolutely.

What’ll you do there, Dada?

Dada?

Oudaya!

It’s Dada...

Ouda, Oudaya.

Houwayda’s always busy.

Looking after you is a full-time job!

He’s just jealous
‘cause nobody looks after him.

He wishes someone looked after him.

We’ll keep in touch.
- What was the last number?

What was it? 12?
- That’s it, 12.

Cournoyer's jersey.

Great, over and done.

In Montpellier, while you’re teaching,

I can adapt my thesis into an essay.

If I had some room,

some time for myself.

It’d be fantastic, right?
- Definitely.

No, really.

If I’m going to write, I’ll need your help

with chores, you know?

Of course, my love. No problem.

I feel you’re not taking me seriously.

I’m serious.

I’ll seal that promise with my spit.

Thursday
3 days before departure

Shit!

Did she see anything?

It’s an annual program.

I understand, Joëlle.
But screening starts at 50, not 45.

Will you come?
- What time?

11, downtown.

OK.

I’ll meet you there.
But text me the address.

Well?
- I have to wait for the results.

Can’t be the results.

She wants to make sure
the images are clear.

So when will I hear?
- No idea.

I’m lots of things, but not an MD yet.

You can go. I’ll call you later.

My meeting’s only at 11.
I have time.

It’s OK, I’m not worried. Go.
- I came to see you!

Get going. Bye!

Alright.

Mrs Waked? You can go.

Have a good day.

Thank you, sweetie! You take care!

That uniform looks great on you!
You’ll come for a coffee next time, OK?

I’d be a replacement?
- No.

No, no, it’s a new course.

You see, the idea is...

for us to open up to others,
and for others to open up to us.

You could call it an opening course.

I don’t quite grasp the concept.

Don’t worry, you shouldn’t!

A concept’s abstract.
This course is totally concrete.

Right.

Here you can see how Keith
reproduces passing time.

But if you get closer, you notice...

that the bottle’s nozzle is partly blocked.

Showing that time passes

slowly, drop by drop.

But why dishwashing detergent?
- Excellent question.

In Keith’s universe,
there is the time that passes,

and also the time that cleans all wounds.

Fabulous!
- Yes, Keith’s work is exceptional.

It was shown at the Bouros in Berlin,
the Venice Biennale... and around the world.

Now we’ll visit the last...

I don’t get it.
What’s he trying to wash?

I understand,
a year in France and everything.

But an opportunity like this
doesn’t come up often.

I know, but time goes by so fast.

Between shopping, cooking,
cleaning the house,

my sister, entertaining Pierre’s colleagues...

$90,000 and every benefit you can imagine.

Wow! I’ve never had an offer like that.

You should consider it.

Do you notice anything?

It doesn’t touch the floor.
- Excellent. And?

The last sheet has a splotch.

That’s nothing.

What’s unusual about this piece is,

no matter where you stand,
you always see the same thing:

a roll of toilet paper.

Try it.

Extraordinary!

There’s more.

When Anna Piroja premiered the work
in New York, it caused a scandal.

I hope so!

The shit hit the fan!

I’ll check my messages.
- Of course.

I have a confession.

I hit a car and drove off.

Seriously?
- I’m terrified.

I don’t know if I should turn myself in,
but I feel so guilty.

But, was anyone hurt?

No, of course not.

It was a fender bender.

Will they put me in jail?

They’ll never find you.

And for the job... you’re not concerned?

If you want, you can report it
to the police or something.

Madame?

Xie xie.

That’s Chinese.

And that’s English.

I know.

I just love ethnicity!

Thanks.

So you can speak Chinese?
- No way.

Hello?
- They found a lump!

Wait, slow down.

A lump!

What?
- Between my breasts!

Between your breasts?

They’re doing an ultrasound and a biopsy.

An ultrasound and a biopsy?
But did she seem worried?

I’m worried! And you’re leaving for France!

No, of course I’ll go with you.

What about Pierre?

Don’t worry about that.

Pierre will leave Sunday
and I’ll fly later. No problem.

Thank you, Sis!

I’ll cancel the brunch Sunday, OK?

No, you can’t.

Really?

Alright then.

I have to tell you something.
- I wanted to tell you, my love...

After you.

I went with Joëlle for her mammogram.

Nothing’s certain.

But they want to do
an ultrasound and a biopsy.

The results of the biopsy
take two to three weeks.

Is there anything to be worried about?

I don’t know.

You know how it is: 50-50.

We wait and see.

She’s extremely anxious.

And I have to admit, I’m worried too.

So I’m thinking that

it’s best you leave Sunday,
and that I come a bit later.

No, I’ll stay with you.

You have your classes, your students.

Not a problem. It can be arranged.

No, Pierre. I want you to leave.
I’ll look after her.

No, I insist.
I’ll wait with you. I’ll stay.

Pierre, honestly. I think...

it’ll do us good for you
to leave for a few weeks.

Come on, Houwayda!

It’ll be good for us.

In 24 years, we were never apart 24 hours.
Is that normal?

Yes, we’re in love.

Yes, but it’ll give you time
to settle in.

Settle in? If you’re not there...

I teach Wednesday.

I have to move in, get Internet,
groceries, buy wine...

You said you’d help with chores.

Help? What chores?

Help me so I can work on my essay.

You don’t take it seriously.

No, no. Yes, of course, I do.

We made a pact.

I promise.

But if your sister...

is sick, will you stay with her?

Of course, I’m her only family!

But she has a husband, two kids.

Borage tea.

It regulates the hormones secreted by

the adrenal glands in periods of stress.

Very effective.

Friday
2 days before departure

Pierre! Can I use your car, please?

Take mine. The keys are in my purse.

OK, my love.

Hit and run, Lebanese grocery store

In half an hour?

Hi, Pierre!
- Hi.

You OK?

Could be better.

What’s wrong?

Bad news?

Kind of.

What is it?

The trip.

Are you in a rush?

Let’s take a walk,
you’ll tell me.

A walk now?
- Why not, it’s lovely out.

OK. I have time.

Houwayda wants to stay.

She told you?
Are you going to leave anyway?

I’d like to stay too.

Your course is still available.

What about François?

No, it’s the least I can do for you.

Are you mad at me?

For what?

Well, I did push her a bit.

Wait, are you pushing her to stay?

Look, y’know, me...

It’s her decision.

I didn’t say anything, or try to force her.

She’s a big girl and...

The last time she wasn’t sure.

And, you know, Pierre...

life can be full of surprises.

When it closes a door,
it opens a window somewhere.

Anyway, we're not sure.
We’ll see tomorrow.

Tomorrow?
- Yeah.

Her family’s coming to brunch.

You have to consult her family?

Well, actually, yes.

You’re having them over?
- Yeah.

Tomorrow? At noon?
- Yeah.

So, what’s on the menu?

Beef Wellington
- Meaning?

Filet mignon, foie gras and a duxelles...

Ducks?
- A duxelle!

Mushrooms sautéed in...

And what else?

Asparagus, cheese and a salad.

And what else?

That’s all.

Do you think that’ll fill twenty mouths?

I hereby officially declare you

a lost cause for Lebanon!

You won’t denigrate Lebanon, but instead

the entire country
will repudiate you entirely!

Fortunately I’m here,

because otherwise, my God...

the disgrace! May God forgive you!

You so remind me of Mom.

Mom was a phenomenon.
- No, you do.

Mom would’ve bought this for us four.

Yes, you’re far more reasonable.

We forgot dessert.
- Someone will bring it.

What if no one does? Please, buy one.

You do it!

Please, you know what to do.

A plate of baklavas?

Two plates, lots of guests.

Careful with these!

They look big, but they’re small.

I don’t know how many you’ll be,
but we were eight last week

and with six of these we ran short.
Disgraceful!

You see!

I complained.

But it was like
wailing in the desert.

You’re not asleep?

Sure, sound asleep.

I spoke to François.

He said to stay. Not leave you alone
in difficult times.

No, Pierre.

You’re capable, resourceful, intelligent...
You’ll manage fine, I promise.

But I’ll be all alone.

Without you I’m completely lost.

Do I look like someone who’s ethnic?

I don't think so.
Why, did someone say something?

If you saw me in the street, would you think,
She’s an ethnic?

I don’t think so, no.
Did someone make a comment?

No, but, between you and me...

Is there a difference?
A visible difference, I mean.

No, why?

It’d be strange. Like I walked around

with a sign that said, Careful! Beep!

Ethnic! Beep!

I don’t think you beep
when you walk in the street.

How much did you earn your first year?

Saturday
1 day before departure

How long will they stay?

They usually stay till late.

Do we have to stay till the end?

Very funny.

Change the bulb. It’s too dark.

The ladder’s too short.

These people went through a war.

Dim light reminds them
of night-time air raids.

Put this in the fridge straight away.

It’s my chocolate pudding

with real chocolate!

Nobody knows about my biopsy.

We’re all here. This is aunt Josephine,

aamo Georges, my in-laws

who are finally visiting Montréal.

Auntie, give the baklavas to Houwayda.

Aamo, give her the plate of nammoura.

Auntie, take the plate.

Hand her the plate.

Take the plate.

Good!

Let's go, inside, please. Inside!

Put it here, like this!

No, next to it. Good!

There! Now you can hold your head high.

This will be regal!

They’re here!

Sometimes I wonder how you can
live in this world?

Beef Wellington?

Come on!

You shouldn’t have!

Maryse, and her neighbors Paul and Mireille,
who are brother and sister.

Anyway,

you haven’t changed!

That’s kind, thanks.

How long has it been?
- Hmmm...

When did you go to study in France?

In 1988.

I remember your poor sister.

You always made up stories.

Once, Houwayda was going to marry
a prince in Monaco. Another time,

she was dating George Michael.

Another time, Boy George.

The versions and stories we heard!

How old were you, Joëlle? 11?

I don’t remember. Let’s go in.

It’s not easy to get here.

How did you come?
- We followed Miss GPS!

“Turn right on St Denis.”

Left!
- Right!

Left!
- Right!

Left!
- Right!

Enough!

Not another word!

Go inside.

Is this the east end?
- It's Outremont.

God save the suburbs!

In the suburbs you don’t get tickets?

He was doing 45 on a 30-mph street.

The policewoman was a hardass.
- He mistook her for a man!

He turned to me and said,

He wants the registration, dear.

She didn’t hear.

She heard it perfectly.

I can’t accept the idea

of a woman cop. Impossible!

And then

he talked to her like back home.

“Why am I getting a ticket?

What’s the problem?
The street’s empty.”

Still, it’s $169.

They take themselves so seriously!

To the left!

So agile! How much do you weigh?

You’re lucky, he lost 9 lbs.

Concentrate, dammit!

I figure a good body lift
and you’re set once and for all.

Don’t make that mistake.

Botox and silicon work wonders.

I go once

every six months, two visits,
and it costs nothing.

Is the doctor Lebanese?

Of course!

But this time he completely botched it. Look!

I look like a boxer after a fight.

Not at all, darling.

You’re very sexy. Really!

What do you want?
- A glass of arak,

please.

There you are! Joëlle wants to know
where you keep the arak.

The arak?

I don’t have any.

You don’t have any?

She has no arak!

No arak?

You’ve no arak?

It’s unheard of! Someone who has no arak!
Unheard of!

Calm down!

We’re not at war, there’s no rationing.

Sarah? Where’s Sarah?

What?
- Come here!

I’d get mine but we’re so far.

That’s alright.

Najla can get my bottles at home.

What’s with her? Living so far away!

There’s a store close by.

Show them where it is.

I’ll pay.
- No way, I’ll pay!

I can’t accept!

I’ll pay!

Out of the question!

On my father’s grave!

Don’t insist!

Enough!

You’re in my home, and I’ll pay.

Go on, sweetie.

Let’s go to the liquor store.

Let's get lost again.

He's gonna get a ticket.

Do you have anything else for now?

Of course, the wine’s here.

These ones are chilled.

That’s a wine fridge, Joëlle!

I know that, Sis.

We have to wait for them to age.

Don’t worry.

They don’t know wine.
They won’t even notice.

Paul? Paul!

We have to find you a wife!

Thanks, aamo!

A good Québécoise!

Did you have to shame me in public?

Darling, what did I say?

“What did I say?” Really?

I could blab about
you smashing your rear light.

But I wouldn’t, not here.

No, just in private.

Anyway, I told you,
the car wasn’t my fault!

The cops say it’s a hit and run.

Nothing they can do.

God knows how you'd parked!

Hey!

Émilie?

My god, what a surprise!

Pierre didn’t tell you?

He must’ve forgotten.
It’s fine, come in!

It was expensive.

We’re celebrating today.

Celebrating what?

The reason you’re staying in Montréal.

You want to celebrate that my sister
may have cancer?

Why, no.

My god, I’m so sorry!

You look well, anyway.

Here, ask people to come eat.

Here, in the center of the table.

This on the other side.

Come on, slice the bread!

Go wash your hands.

Her Lebanese side’s coming out.

She’s efficient, but scary.

Why’s that?

Reminds me of her sister.

Her?

I think I’ll open myself to diversity.

Émilie.

Mireille.

A friend of Houwayda?

No, of Maryse.

My father’s youngest cousin.

How do you like Montréal?

It’s fine, I guess.

I’ve been here two years.

My brother Paul came first.

I’m not married,
so I was sent to look after him.

What’s wrong with him?

Pardon me?
- Is he sick?

No, why?

Why’s he need looking after?

Because he works.

In real estate.

I tidy the house, cook for him,
water the plants...

until he finds a lady.

A cleaning lady?

No! Until he finds a lady to marry!

Thank you!

What will you do when Paul finds a wife?

Go back to Lebanon.

And look after my mother.

And then?

I’ll look after Paul’s kids.

Of course. Sure.

But who’ll look after you when you’re old?

Paul’s kids!

Makes sense.

Care to taste Émilie’s wine? It’s good.

Good, huh?

Ready for tomorrow?

Pierre, are you ready to leave?

Wouldn’t you prefer I stayed?

We’ll leave later.

No, Pierre!

They’re expecting you
at the airport.

I’ll take a taxi!

It’s three short weeks.

It’ll do you good.

You said two. Now it’s three.

I won’t answer that.

Your jacket is magnificent.

Where’s it from?
- Ogilvy’s.

How much?
- $900.

That’s a steal!

You always find bargains!
Did you buy it on sale?

On sale, my dear? Never!
Think I’m a beggar?

That’s very pretty.

Value Village.

25 bucks.

There you are!

Having fun, Émilie?

Oh yes! Everyone’s super nice!

I was wondering if you’d thought about
our conversation.

A little, but mostly
I’ve been thinking of Pierre.

Nothing happens by chance.

That offer may be the perfect solution
so you can stay with your sister.

Yeah. In my culture
we always think of others first.

That’s wonderful.

No!

It’s not wonderful. What about my sanity?

I’m not Mother Teresa.

We have only one life.

We all do our best.

If I’m in trouble, I don’t tell everybody.

I take care of it by myself. Period!

If there’s an emergency, I don’t scream

and make others do exactly what I want!

I can wait.

I don’t need an answer now.

I’m sorry, Émilie. Forgive me.

But between Pierre and Joëlle,
I’m at the end of my rope.

Houwayda!

I was telling them how, in Brownies,
with your lovely voice,

you’d sing for us.

C’mon, Houwayda, sing!

It’s very sweet, but...

Sing! Sing a song for us!

Come on!

Sing I Left My Country by Enrico Macias.

You have such a lovely voice!

Sing!

Go on!

Go on! Go on!

I swear! For years she sang in the choir!

Houwayda!

Where are you sweetie?
- We’re waiting!

Fire!

Where are the kids?

What did you do? Are you crazy?

I want everyone out, right now!

You’re kicking us out? You can’t!

Joëlle!

I’ve had it.

If you don’t do it, I will.

Please! We’ll continue brunch at our place.
We’ll take the desserts

and drive in single file the way to Laval.

Let’s go!

Sorry! Maybe we were too many people!

I smell a cat!

You mean, rat!

A rat? I don’t believe you, Renée!

Since moving to Québec,
you can’t speak French anymore!

The old alarm system must’ve gone haywire.

Not haywire, but reached its limit.

No, haywire, I guess.

I think haywire’s the right word, Pierre,
in circumstances like this.

What time’s your flight, Pierre?

What are you doing?

Looking for Pessoa.
- He’s in Montpellier.

No.

Joëlle said he’s here.
- Easy to say.

I don’t want to feel guilty.
You have to go in single file!

What’s this?
- I’ve no idea.

It won’t come off.

It’s glued on!

What should I do?

What should I do?

It won’t come off!

It won’t come off.

What should I do?

What should I do?

Sunday
Day of departure

You’ll be fine.

I feel as alone as when my mother died.

I know. But you were three years old.

Now you’re over 50.

Come with me!

Really, Pierre.

Please.

I can’t. And besides,
all my things are at home.

We’ll ask someone to send them.

And my sister? Are you serious?

Please.

What’s this all about?

I worry you won’t come.

This isn’t helping!

You see! I knew it. I felt it from the start.

Stop it. Please, stop it!

So you’re not coming then?

You’re egotistical. Self-centered! Selfish!

Aside from you, no one else matters.

I, me,

mine, myself, my own...

I’ve mothered you for 24 years.

Enough’s enough!

You’re not coming?

I’m done feeding and coddling my man!

From now on, Pierre,
you’ll live with a real Quebecker!

I never forced you! Never!

You also tell me what to do!

Like right now. I don’t want to go.

But you’re forcing me!

I want to make a statement.

A statement?

I hit a car and drove off.

I can’t bear the guilt.
I want to turn myself in.

Lebanese?

Yes.

Did anyone see you?

You’re sure?

Sure.

Then what’s the point?

No! No, no!

Hold it!

Don’t unpack. You’re leaving.

You’d turn your sister away?

Look, Joëlle. If ever you get sick,
I’ll look after you.

But I have my life, you have yours.
I’m not on call 24 hours a day.

For once Jean lets me visit,

and you’d send me away?

Open a bottle of wine. I’m starving!

We haven’t cooked together
in 30 years.

I can’t remember ever having done it.

Because as soon as you boarded the plane,
you forgot all about us.

We no longer existed. We were gone.

How can you?

Because it’s the truth.

I don’t understand.

You were just a teenager.
What could I do?

Encourage me to join you in France
so I could study too.

Your mind was on boys and beach parties.

What do you expect?

When the bombing stopped, we’d go dancing!

Not me. I’d read or study
for my admission exams.

Anyway, why didn’t you ask me?

Why didn’t you suggest it to me?

I couldn’t tell you how to live your life.

Before you left, I didn’t wear makeup.

I wore sneakers and jeans, like you.
Remember?

Vaguely.

Now I’m a married woman.

With that guy, you could’ve fooled me.

Jean and I are like brother and sister.
What else?

He doesn’t want to divorce.

Sure it’s him who doesn’t want it?

I’ve a confession.

When I heard you moved to Montréal,

I searched for a husband
who wanted to emigrate.

Don’t exaggerate. Now it’s my fault
that you married Jean?

Why not?

You’ll be forced to take me in
and look after me.

Joëlle! Open the door before I break it down!

C’mon, open up!

Houwayda, your sister’s crazy!

She’s out of her mind!

Damn her father!

I’ll break the door down, dammit!

I’ll break it down!

Let’s go.

I’ll call Pierre and tell him everything!

We’ll buy you jeans and sneakers!

Let’s do it!

It must be nice out if you’re in PJs.

Wrong!

It’s horrible! It’s rainy, windy, grey!

You’re better off in here.

What’s her name?

Émilie. Look under E, not her last name.

Tell her to come.
- It’s a red light!

Say it’s urgent!

OK, but don’t get us killed!

I have a plan.

He’ll see!

It’s me. She wants me to pull over.
What do I do?

Pull over... It’s her voice mail.

But we’ll lose Pierre!

No, look!

The taxi’s stopping.

Émilie!

Hi, it’s Joëlle, Houwayda’s sister.
We met at brunch Saturday.

I had on a burgundy dress

embroidered with sequins

with a plunging neckline and six-inch heels.

My back was killing me,
but God, did I look sexy!

I made a splash.

Come on!
- Anyway,

Houwayda says to come meet us urgently
at 360 St-Clovis St.

Hurry.

Shit!

She’s going to give you a ticket.

I get six a month.

Open the window, idiot!

Your papers.

Take me in!

Where are you going?
- She’s going home.

Is home far?

10 minutes!

I mean, where you’re from,

your home.

It’s really not far.
It’s 10 minutes away, I swear!

Your license and registration.

You’re not leaving him over me?

Those tests of mine are nothing.

I’ll wait for the results by myself.

Please don’t leave him.

Pierre’s a good man.

What’s going on?

Know who’s staying at this hotel?

Pierre?

We see you.

I can explain everything.

Don’t bother.

I’m not going with you.

Émilie?

I’ll teach that course. I’m staying here.

Really?

Congratulations!

What course?

It has to be given by an immigrant
to get your grant.

An immigrant?

Who told you about it?

François. We went for a drink Friday.

Why does it have to be
given by an immigrant?

The government created
a new program.

Universities must hire immigrants,

and create a course just for them
to maintain their annual tax credits.

Token immigrants, presumably.

She promised the moon, I bet.

There aren’t many immigrants

with a PhD in literature, you know.

No, it’s true.

There are only a million immigrants
in Québec,

but they’re all illiterate.

There aren’t any! None at all!

You look, but can’t find any. And why?

There aren't any.

You're right.

You’re absolutely right.

I swear it’s not out of bad faith.

Laziness, maybe. But you’re right.

Can you forgive me? We did share
an unforgettable exhibition, after all.

Come here.

This changes nothing for me.
I’m still staying with Joëlle.

Jean called me.

Joëlle’s fine.

Just fine.

She had an ultrasound,
but she’s in perfect health.

I would’ve had the biopsy one day.

Do you realize what you did?

What?

It’s because I love you.

You can’t blame me for that.

You’ll have to learn
to respect our differences.

I’m at the end of my rope.

“I swear, I wonder how you can live
in this world.”

Well, I wonder how you
can live in this world.

But I don’t give you a hard time about it.
I don’t try to change you.

I like you the way you are.
Different from me.

We don’t have the same definition of things.

Neither in family nor in life.

And you have to respect that, period.

And don’t give me any more books!

There, it’s off my chest.

Why aren’t you in Montpellier?
What are you doing in this hotel?

I came here to respect your wishes.

I may be selfish,

unable to do anything on my own, but...

I never lied to you. I love you!

You’re right, it can’t go on like this.
I want it to change.

I spoke about your book
to your old thesis advisor.

He loves the idea!

He has a friend who’s a publisher.

He thinks they’d publish it.

I’ll do all I can to help you.

It’s my priority.

Tell me, did you go to university?

Do you have a degree?

1 year later

Disquiet and the Fragmented Self

What's the name?
- Daniel.

Thank you.

Hello.

Hello.
- You shed light on the mysteries of Pessoa.

Even those Parisians say so.

So it’s serious.

Thank you. What’s your name?

Vincent.

We must lay the groundwork for

a speculative philosophy, because otherwise...

the imponderable cannot mirror itself
without engendering a cosmic fiasco.

I don’t share your view, my dear Albéric.

The ether does not require propagation

by vulgar bipeds

to erect an ultimate theorem.

But my dear Daphné, you eclipse the
potentiality of an elephantine temptation.

By that, I mean the calling into question
of the author’s subconscious.

What does her husband say?

Me? Well, I...

You’ll find it somewhat bizarrely bizarre,

perhaps even the apogee of oddness, but...

I agree with your duo.

I feel entirely comfortable countenancing it.

So countenance it, I will,
with density and ardor and

I’d even add impetuosity and supremacy.

And I thank you for your fortitude.

Shall I get a pizza or lasagna?

Something light.

I’ll put the champagne on ice.

Hi, Houwayda!
- Hi, Alice!

Have a good evening!
- Have fun!

No way!

It can’t be.

There you are, finally!

I was panicking. Where were you?

I’ve been depressed since you left.

Jean said, Spend a week with your sister.
Bring her back here.

Who is it?

It’s telemarketing.

I brought you a case of rose water
and orange blossom water.

Do they have Lebanese products
in Montpellier?

I have friends in France, and since I’m here,

I thought we could organize a simple brunch.

But can I find baklava here?
I don’t know how to make it.

You always find baklava.
Even when you’re not looking.

Especially when you’re not looking!

Pardon?

Nothing, Sis.

It’s a metaphor.

You met for what?

No, it’s a metaphor.

A sticky metaphor, if I may say.

Baklava?

No, the sticky side of baklava.

Come on, move it!

1 week later

There she is!