Ma première brasse (1981) - full transcript

My first breaststroke

My name is Luc Moullet.

I'm a filmmaker.

I'm 43 years old.

In Roman times, you could

be a senator at this age.

But we're not Romans,

and I have absolutely no desire

to become a senator anyway.

Instead, to celebrate

my 43th birthday,

I was thinking of doing

my first movie camera move...

But I feel it's too early,

I'm not ready yet.

I'd rather wait to be 50,

or wait for my tenth movie.

So, instead of doing a tracking shot,

I'd like to learn to swim.

For us intellectuals,

making a new movie,

writing a new book

has become routine.

Whereas engaging in

a new physical activity,

this is original,

fascinating.

It fills a lack in our lives.

The day I can swim will really

be a big day for me.

And, rather than spending dough

taking a swimming class,

I'd prefer to earn 40 grand

making a movie about this.

You may wonder why

I can't swim yet.

It's a long story.

The 18th of September 1943,

in the late afternoon...

Anyway, in a nutshell...

Let's say I'm from

the Southern Alps,

where there is not much water.

Here, a torrent in spate, downstream

my grandmother's native village.

Of which this is the spring.

Consequence of this lack of water,

grandma washed only the top of

her nose and the center of her cheeks.

Washing wears the skin, she said.

My grandfather,

1888-1965,

had to put a bathtub

in the home he had built,

in order to get a state loan.

Of course, the bathtub was used

to store vegetables.

Granddad used his bathtub

for the first time at the age of 77.

He died twenty days later,

while sailing.

In this book, a doctor forces

an 80 years old shepherd

to take his first bath.

He dies the day after.

For myself, I'm more developed.

I love drinking at fountains,

being thirsty so

I'm allowed to drink more.

I can recognize the waters

of two different villages,

or two different mineral waters,

as well as a taster

of fine wines.

Affected by

Judeo-Christian dialectics,

I always considered solid

food as duty,

and liquid nourishment

as a reward.

I love to bathe.

I call my small tub boat Bresson.

I'm no quite sure why.

It may because I've always thought

that the filmmaker Bresson

would wear Petit bateau underpants.

Which is untrue,

according to a friend of mine.

When are you done with our bath ?

I was very sensitive to the movie Laura,

where the hero

doesn't leave his bathtub.

I'd like to do the same.

- Mister Grisse

- Let him come in.

I had issues

with my grandparents.

I wanted to take a bath,

but grandma thought that

it damaged the vegetables to move them,

and damaged the water-eater,

not used to such workload.

What is the place of water

in my movies ?

In Brigitte et Brigitte, the tub,

copy of the familial tub where

I had my first bath,

before I rented a one-bedroom

apartment with a bathtub

when I was 31 years and 7 months old,

and owner of a tub

at 38.

In Les Contrebandiers,

and in Billy Le Kid,

the protagonists

follow a wild torrent

in the wrong way,

which both shows

an attraction for water,

and the will to fight against it.

These movies were shot

in the mountains, whereas

Gen?se d'un repas, was entirely

shot on the seaside,

and even at sea,

probably because I'm masochistic.

Citizen of a capitalist country,

I felt guilty

of the third world's exploitation,

and punished myself

by shooting a film at see.

I even almost directed a movie

that was set in Deauville,

Saint-Tropez, and Tahiti.

But I gave up this torture.

I like water.

But in a glass, in a tub,

or in a torrent.

Where there is not too much water.

Where I'm in my depth.

You can't reach perfect

harmony with water

in a matter of

one or two generations.

I computed that my

potential descendants

could reach this perfect harmony

around the years 2042 to 2055.

My fear grows even bigger

whenever I see the terrifying

interstice, liquid and dark,

between boat and port.

If I were to fall there,

nobody would notice.

And even if someone did notice,

what could they do?

Suffocating, crushed, the nails bloodied

against this unbearably smooth wall.

When I walk over a bridge,

I'd rather not see a thing.

How dreadful this boat it!

On my first hovercraft trip,

I thought we were sinking

when we went from the hovering

to the boat position.

I ran to the life-belts.

Only 150 meters left.

If it sinks now, I'm done for!

100 meters ! I can be fished out !

Mouth-to-mouth !

60 meters ! I can make it,

come on Luluc, home straight !

30 meters !

I'm in my depth here !

20 meters, not in my depth

anymore ! 10 meters !

Five !

Phew ! I'm alive,

I won, well done!

That was a close one.

Never again !

I'm fine with rocks. But

I'm afraid of n?v?s.

You see, in any kind of snow,

there is water sleeping.

To learn to swim, they recommend

the so-called salad bowl test.

I did it !

So it was possible after all !

I can't believe it !

Tomorrow, I'm going to the sea

near Marseille.

Help! Help!

I didn't try to get

back to sleep.

If I slept, time

would go by too quickly.

If I don't sleep, it lasts longer.

I have a more intense perception

of the flow of time.

I fully enjoy

my last minutes to live,

before the shooting

before I go in the water.

Wait a second !

I didn't tell you my first

swimming experience.

It was in 1945,

on the Riviera,

not far from here.

It was quite dangerous.

The 50 meters between

the railway and the coast,

were not yet cleared of mines.

I think it is now.

It was a failure.

I don't quite know why.

My son Luc succeeds only

when he's passionate about something.

But when it's the case,

he succeeds extremely well.

He needs to get excited

about swimming.

I don't believe

that his clumsiness with water

has to do with heredity.

First of all, my family

is from Saint-Malo.

We have sailors, fishermen,

corsairs in our ancestry.

Moreover, his own father

was an excellent swimmer.

I saw him cross the Seine both ways,

or swim for five kilom...

Let's stop

I can see you're feeling tired.

Sit down !

Why do we go up, when the sea

obviously is at the bottom ?

It's a shortcut.

And I forgot to tell you my

second try to swim.

It was in May of 1958.

1336 in the year of the Hijra.

Samuel Fuller just shot "Verboten !".

In Rwanda, Hutus had

slaughtered 60 000 Tutsis.

Ercole Baldini and Charles de Gaulle

had respectively

won the Tour of Italy

and seized power in France.

For myself, I tried to learn

to swim in a swimming pool.

I was very much in love

with an extremely pretty girl.

She had asked me to meet her

on the beach.

She didn't come, but I thought

that if she had,

I would have looked stupid

not to be able to swim.

Obviously, I had thought of

bandaging my ankle,

to pretend I had a sprain.

A very good alibi.

But it couldn't work for that long.

So I decided, in order

to avoid this kind of situations,

to subscribe to twenty swimming

sessions in a swimming pool.

Paid in advance, at a time when

I was a student and not very rich.

During the first

swimming session,

I drank so much water,

and was so afraid by

the transparency of water...

This inhuman, abstract, harsh, vertical,

smooth aspect of the swimming pool.

The emptiness always visible below you,

no way to grab at something.

And the frightening echo,

the mess...

Hell is other people,

said general Bigeard

Well, that's just not true.

Hell is the swimming pool!

Anyway, I was so frightened,

that even though

the girl was very pretty,

and even though I had paid

in advance for 19 classes,

I never mustered the courage

to come back to this swimming pool.

Even nowadays, when I walk

in its street,

20 years later,

I take the other sidewalk.

There isn't enough light yet

to shoot in the bay.

Let's wait.

I still haven't told you

my third try.

It was in May 1968.

Tutsis had slaughtered

200 000 Hutus, in Burundi.

Carl Theodor Dreyer just died

following a fall in his tub.

My grandmother had died in February,

I told you about her...

Cultural revolution caused

2 millions of death in China.

And there were barricades in Paris.

Everything was fine.

I was renting

an apartment with a tub,

as I said earlier.

And I went to the beach

with topless women.

The sea was two meters deep

right away,

I couldn't do a thing.

I watched them, while

they were bathing.

I felt like a voyeur,

which bothered me,

and I felt that they were bothered,

which bothered me even more.

And I felt they were bothered

by feeling that I felt

that I bothered them.

But Luc, how do you want

me to remember this time,

ten years ago,

when we all very naturally

entered the water,

the weather was nice,

we were thinking of...

We were topless

and only thought of

enjoying ...

the Mediterranean sea,

and you were on the side,

I remember that you were there,

I didn't notice your...

little game...

I didn't... It didn't come

to my mind that you couldn't swim,

being older than I was.

I mean, for us...

You see...

This wasn't an issue.

So, how do you want me

to discuss...

No, I didn't notice anything.

And that's how I tried to learn

to swim once more, in order to...

Listen, the light is very good !

Let's hurry, otherwise,

it'll get cloudy,

and we won't be able to shoot a thing!

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!

It's too cold!

Aim all the spotlights

where I'm going to try to swim.

This will heat up the water.

Listen, we don't have any spotlights.

Nor do we have a generator! And even

if we did, we can't warm up the sea!

It's not the Atlantic,

it's not an ocean...

Just the Mediterranean sea...

A budget of 300 millions should be

enough to warm up the sea!

No!

You'll get used to it! Move on!

Toes!

Feet.

Ankles.

Calves.

I feel like James Mason

in A Star Is Born.

I think of [?]

Calm down! Calm down!

Sit down! Sit down!

Knees!

My knees are in the water.

Thighguard.

Thighs.

This is the main difficulty!

Cold is going

to seize my stomach.

The right ball!

The left ball!

Water submerged

my underwear at 10:47.

The spleen!

Silly me, I don't have one anymore.

Fifth rib.

Decisive passage.

More of my body is under the water

than outside of the water.

Third rib.

Breasts!

Collar bone.

Neck.

Stop it, stop it!

Let someone come and fetch my glasses!

Faster!

No, with their case!

I'm cold.

I'm waiting.

My watch.

I'll try again to put

my head under the water.

First impressions ?

It's wet.

I think I'm hearing someone

trying to break open a lock.

What I did, no beast

in the world...

Go up !

Hurry up !

Go up, assholes !

The wave is coming !

The wave is coming !

We need to postpone

the shooting.

There is too much wind,

the sound is going to be bad.

And the sun is very hard.

This will produce to

harsh of an image.

and your [?] won't be good.

You don't know a thing about this,

that's not your job!

The light is very good!

Eleven.

Come back down!

Right now!

One second!

This is dangerous,

the sea is right below!

June 6, 1980.

For the first time in three

years, I entered the water.

First contact was harsh.

What's going to happen?

I do not know.

What do you know, I'm floating !

I should breathe out while spreading

my arms, according to Boisseau's theory,

and while bringing them back,

according to Gr?nberg's theory.

But as to when

I'm allowed to inhale,

no one cares!

And the legs?

I forgot the legs!

Don't worry about the legs,

they're useless.

Come on, don't start!

One more theory! This is already

intricate enough!

I can spread arms and legs

at the same time, all right.

At a pinch, I can spread

my arms without spreading my legs.

At a pinch, I say.

But don't expect me to spread

my legs while bringing my arms closer.

This is too contradictory.

It gives me a headache!

I need some aspirin.

Asking this of me is an attempt

to the unity of my personality.

This is a human rights infringement

that went unnoticed!

I already tried once,

I remember!

I read Joyce and Machiavelli

in original language,

but this is really above

what I can do.

I feel like Ravaillac.

I feel like Poland between

1772 and 1919.

Quartered between Prussians

and Russians!

It's as if I was asked to

move forward while moving backward,

or to shoot a good movie

starring Romy Schneider.

But, on this morning

newspaper,

they said a shark was sighted

around here!

Not at all! You're the one frightening

the fish by moving around like this!

A rock!

My balls!

The only ones I have!

Why don't you swim

where it's deeper!

I'm fine.

What's the use of swimming

where you can walk?

Had I tried to swim

where I can't walk,

I wouldn't have swum any more.

When starting, better try to swim

where one can walk.

Because if you can swim in a place

where you can touch the bottom,

well, it means that you can swim as well

in a place where you couldn't touch it.

A bird in hand is worth two in a bush,

as Lacan would say.

The brightest thing he ever said,

by the way.

What kind of manners is that?

Pig! Numbskull!

Asshole! Plutocrat!

Son of a bitch!

Jerk!

You're as clumsy swimming

than dancing!

I dance very well!

You're mocking me.

But I dance as I feel like!

I don't need your set of rules

to dance, to swim,

to swim, or

to do anything else!

I'm tired to go to school

or to the barracks

to learn things.

And your smartasses

that dance

according your rules

and that follow

swimming textbooks...

They only like the sea,

because it's always the same.

The sea, always start again,

would say Giscard.

They love monotony,

conformism,

sea is a stew,

the force of habit, the easy way!

No need for initiative,

just wait for retirement at 65.

Not again! You!

We're fed up! With seeing you!

You! You! You!

Enough! Enough waiting!

Your breaststroke!

Our skin! Is drying! Under the sun!

You! You! You!

Always! With your words!

The mouth full! Everything!

You! You! You!

Never! Never will you swim!

Your head is too heavy!

Your reason makes you drown!

You! You! You!

Shut up!

I've an idea!

This is it.

It doesn't hold.

It's not salted enough!

I need salt

to be fetched right away!

Not here, it's already

been done! Closer!

Let us now wait a couple of minutes

so that salt

can spread evenly everywhere!

Crap, I swallowed some.

I need to wait an hour

to digest it.

A chewing-gum is of

no importance.

You can go bathe right now!

I'm weary of hypothermia!

My cousin died of

hypothermia when she was 86,

when doing her laundry

in a stream.

I need to inquire about this.

Hello?

All right! Victory!

I did it! I swam!

The movie is done!

We can leave!

Are you kidding us?

I swear, it lasted for

three or four seconds,

and if I swam for three

or four seconds,

I can as well swim for five

minutes, or a whole life!

Hurry up, or we'll miss the train!

I can see that happening.

We have to spend one more night

on the seafront...

Let's get back to Paris!

Let's wait for the development

of the underwater shot,

and we'll know if you swam.

I can smell gas...

There is an open tap somewhere.

Why are you still there, asshole,

you almost knocked me over!

This is polluted!

Was there the sea

at Auschwitz?

I had thought that,

by the end of the movie,

either I would know how to swim,

or I wouldn't know.

I had considered these two options.

But I hadn't thought

that I could not know

whether I knew how to swim.

I was caught off-guard.

I'm hungry!

No way! You can't, you need

to get back to the water!

Eat your condensed food.

The film is coming!

Crap, I have to try again.

When I was a fetus,

I was in water.

I'll get reaccustomed to water

by taking the fetal position.

Wait a minute!

I was probably fed up with water,

since I left early.

I was born at eight months.

Plus, if I start swimming,

I'll have remorse.

Because if I do swim,

it means I can swim.

It would then be my fault

if I haven't swum before,

if I deprived myself

of this pleasure for 40 years.

Maybe, unconsciously,

I'd rather not be able to swim,

so that it's not my fault.

This would mean my failure

was absolutely unavoidable.

You bought cheap salt,

didn't you?

Someone is looking

at me over there!

Get rid of him!

I don't want to be seen

trying to swim, it disturbs me!

I was trying to analyze

the reasons behind my failures.

What am I afraid of?

I can't drown here.

I'm afraid of not feeling the ground

anymore, of something coming from behind.

My survival instinct makes me

put my feet back on the ground.

I should suppress this instinct

in order to swim.

But it is thanks

to this survival instinct

that I'm still alive

today.

I need to get used to water

by spending more time in it.

Perhaps was I not bathing

often enough.

Every year, I bathe once,

and only once, in the sea.

Not for long, just to remember

what it is like.

My rejection of the sea is thus

based on its practice,

not on ignorance.

[?]

However, these last two years,

I completely forgot to

carry out this task.

What a pleasure there is

in despising the sea, in taunting it

by being close to it,

yet not bathing in it,

not looking at it, not being its slave.

I even managed to go the Bahamas,

without bathing.

It had the same blast as,

when in New-York,

I refused to go up

the Empire State Building.

When I'm in Istanbul,

I won't visit Hagia Sophia.

When in Panama,

I won't go and see the canal.

When in Moscow,

I'll avoid the Red Square.

When I'm in Th?us,

I won't see the hoodoos.

One needs to go from

the reality principle :

"I'm not able to swim",

to the pleasure principle,

"I want to rip through the water".

Water send us back to the initial

trauma he hasn't dealt with yet.

The body rejects ripping

through the water,

because it's aware of the taboo

surrounding the mother.

It unconsciously rejects the amniotic.

And do you know why?

Because the body is offended

to have left it.

Say, who's this Italian director

who died during a shooting?

Pietrangeli, drowned.

And this French director

that died in the Caribbean ?

De Roubaix, drowned.

And there is this

Cahiers du Cin?ma critic, Biesse

Where did he die?

Drowned, but where?

Oh, yeah, in the Loire.

I'm sure Shakespeare

couldn't swim.

But Maurice Druon can,

I'm sure of it!

Edgar Poe was

a very good swimmer...

And [Fuller ?] was too.

[Quithis ?]... Jodorowsky...

And [Iancho ?]

[Aux ?]...

Oshima.

Matarazzo.

Rossellini!

And Viviane [Bertomille?], of course.

Damn, I'm out of control,

swimming as I feel like!

You made it a couple meters!

Take advantage of it!

We could use a colored

rubber ring,

do some special effects in the lab!

No way!

What a purist!

A rubber ring is no different

from shingles on the chest.

You don't have shingles!

- And sadly so.

I need to be able to go on.

I need to be deflated!

But without my knowing,

otherwise, I'll be afraid.

Quick!

Quick!

I'm waiting!

Everything is up to me!

Technicians, good for nothing!

I think I'm swimming.

Fucking the sea.

- Stop, we're almost out of film.

No, I won't know

how to start again.

Come on, you're not going to

spend your life swimming.

You're in your depth.

One second!

I have a snail's pace.

I'm barely moving forward.

I can see nothing.

Lots of water, little land!

This is the least touristic and the

slowest of all means of transportation.

I understand why

Madame de S?vign?

wrote to Paul [Leothod ?]

["Paul, slow and steady

wins the swimming race".]

= ["Paul, swimming is useless, why are you doing it".]

I want to be refunded!

You can be sure

this was my last breaststroke.