One for the Road (2009) - full transcript

ONE FOR THE ROAD

based on the novel by HERVÉ CHABALIER

Fuck you!

You drank today?

Two glasses of white wine.

Two large glasses.

- And last night?
- I went out with a bang.

Stand there, let's take your picture.

Must we?

You'll get it at the end.

Five weeks from now.
Before... and after.



Coat and jacket, please.

Want my shoes, too?

Yes, thanks.

Call me Martin.
We use first names here.

You're lucky, Pierre's your roommate.

He's been here two weeks.
He'll help you.

He's weaned.

That's your group.

Finish unpacking and join us.

Recess is over, time to go, Marquis.

So, it's these...

these dreams I have.

Mostly I dream about the guy who fired me.

It's lodged in my brain, you know...



spinning around like a broken record.

I dream about people who let me down,

who didn't loan me money...
when I was in need, you know.

- How's that tie in to bridges?
- Hang on,

Hang, on, I'm getting there.

Anyhow, now I've lost confidence.

I don't trust anyone,
and I've lost confidence.

It's all over. Finished.

So as for me and bridges...

- What about walls?
- Walls are...

- Sorry!
- Go ahead.

Walls make me think
of climbing over, escaping.

I'm on top, and I feel dizzy.

I also think about
invisible walls between people.

For example, talking to you now,

I see your thoughts.

I go into your head.

It feels strange.

It's scary.

But when I drink, I feel normal.

When you drink the fear subsides, right?
The fear...

- Speak for yourself.
- Excuse me, could you stop interrupting?

It's annoying.

When I drink I feel normal, and...

- I can make a phone call!
- Yeah.

Thank you.

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change the things I can,

and the wisdom to know the difference.

- Happy 24 hours.
- Happy 24 hours.

How do you feel?

If the word God bothers you,
you can call it something else.

Or not say it at all.

Is this some kind of sect or something?

It's a prayer written by a philosopher.

It's not about religion,
it's about spirituality.

Sounds complicated.

God is a higher power helping you.
It can be whatever you like:

Nature, the group,

someone you love...

or loved.

The rest is what matters.

Knowing what you can't change,

what you can,

and how to tell them apart.

I left my glasses in Paris.

I really can't make a call?

See those guys?
They're in psychiatric.

When you're down, look at them.

You'll realize you don't have it so bad.

They probably say the same thing about us!

I don't want my dessert, I'm too fat.

You eat chips all day, then skip dessert!

- I'll take it, Kris.
- I'm bloated.

That's what happens
when you switch to water!

I'm hungry, I need fuel.

- You'll be huge.
- Thanks, Hélène, you're sweet.

I drink decaf like it's going out of style.

Look, here come the super models.

Lucky guy.

- Pervert!
- Ten girls, all for him?

- Shut up!
- I'm sorry.

- They're not bloated!
- I gotta go.

Sorry, Marquis.
We stick together.

We're like glue.

What're you reading?

Did you find it here?

You know...

I'm not an alkie like the others.

I suffer from a rare premenstrual syndrome.

I only drink after ovulation.

Two weeks before my period.

The closer I get to my period,

the more vodka I drink.

- Vodka's your drink?
- Yeah,

I only drink vodka.

My father was a Viking.

Everything else makes me sick.

So, you're a part-time drunk?

Yeah! That's exactly it.

It's a weird part of my femininity.

Anyone got a phone card?
This is driving me mad.

- Obviously you don't!
- Sorry.

Did she give you her PMS story?

Watch out, Marquis.
She's a nut job.

Bi-polar, big time.

It's for Sandra.

- Sandra, telephone!
- She's not here.

- Where is she?
- Outside.

Good evening.

I need to go to bed.

Not until ten, with the others.

I need my meds, and I need to go to bed.

I'll give you your meds...

But no more Médoc.

Only because it's your first night.

Thanks.

Goodnight.

MY HUSBAND

I can't leave my agency in the lurch!
I didn't know. I've gotta talk to them,

they need me.
I gotta go back to Paris.

We'll discuss it after the meeting.
Everyone's waiting. Come on.

How do you feel now?

Confused.

How was your first night?

Fine, I'm perfectly fine.

Frankly I don't know what I'm doing here.

That brings us
to today's subject: Denial.

What is denial?

Refusing to acknowledge your alcoholism.

Minimizing it.

All addicts do it.

No one wants to admit
to being an alcoholic.

So we say, "I've got a drinking problem".

We've all got extenuating circumstances,

providing us with convenient excuses
to keep drinking.

Mine was my wife.
It was her fault,

she was the reason I drank.

She left, and the problem stayed.

I'd like to invite you to take a test.

I'll give you five criteria.

Five criteria determining dependency.

I want you to answer
as sincerely as possible.

Remember, you only need three
to have the disease of alcoholism.

Number one:
"Alcohol is a preoccupation,

I think about it regularly,
even at work."

Two: "As time goes on,

I'm drinking more
for the same result."

Three: "I keep drinking,
despite having lost control."

Meaning when something bad happens
as a result of excessive drinking.

You lose your license for drunk driving
but keep drinking...

Suffer a black-out or memory loss...

"What happened last night?"

"Where'd I park my car?"

"Why am I in the gutter?"

Four:

"I use alcohol for something
other than gustatory pleasure.

To overcome my shyness, calm my anxiety...

help me live."

Five:

"I can't control the amount I drink.
One is never enough.

I drink compulsively."

Hélène, you want to share?

What's the matter?

I want to leave.
I don't know why I'm here.

I've got the blues.

I don't feel well.
I need to go home.

You miss home?

It's not comfortable here.

I don't understand why
they brought me here.

Did you drink regularly?

Never before 5 pm.

What about lunch?
During meals?

Like my husband.

Alone?

I'm always alone.

My husband's disabled,
but he's very active.

- Do you take sleeping pills?
- Yes.

Tranquilizers?

Yes.

Stimulants?

Have you taken them long?

Several years now.

- Every day?
- Yes.

The doctor prescribed them.

But my glass of whiskey, honestly...

never before 5 pm!

I know that for sure, because

I check my watch.

Can I leave?

For chrissakes, Hélène,
you've been here three days.

You gotta stay with us.

Seriously.

It might be worth it.

He's right, Hélène.

I'll get bored without my roomie.

Who'll I talk to if you leave?

I wanted out of here at first too,
it's only normal.

But here I am.

And what a shame!

Seriously, I understand.
You feel like...

you're at camp or something.
Dredging up all this shit.

All the shit I've been running from
my whole life.

But for me, it's either that,

or I'm dead.

Like Jean-Marie says, it might be worth it.

What've you got to lose, right?

I mean, it can't hurt you.

Five weeks away from your husband...

Nice vacation, no?

You miss him?

That's not it.

What do you miss, really?

So you'll stay?

I'll try.

- They're not back yet?
- They said 10 pm.

Have you ever been to an AA meeting?

No, you?

I've seen stuff about it on TV.

I think we're going next week,
after quarantine.

Doing your questionnaire?

Got lots of yeses?

I don't know, I forgot my glasses.

Do you put drinking
before other important things?

Yes.

Do you keep drinking
despite promising to quit?

Yes.

Do you lose your cool when you drink?

Do I lose my cool?

No.

There, you've got a "no"!

Do you drink to overcome shyness?

Yes.

Really?

You don't seem shy.

At home, work or elsewhere,
do you have a secret stash?

Yes, I admit it.

Do you worry about how
you'll drink when you travel?

Yes.

Catch me if you can!

Jean-Marie, where are you going?
It's this way!

I don't have the energy.

- Goodnight, Hélène.
- Goodnight Hervé.

Thanks.

Sorry,

- quarantine.
- It's from my wife.

You'll get it in four days.

Coming, dammit!

I'm Dr. Marcus,
physician here at La Roselière.

I'm a recovering alcoholic and drug addict.

We all share the same disease,
the disease of alcoholism.

I'd drink anything:
Rubbing alcohol, cologne...

I was way beyond pleasure.

In 1956, the Americans were the first

to declare alcohol addiction a disease.

A chronic condition for which
there exists no known cure.

No known cure.

So what are we doing here?

"Chronic" means the patient
remains addicted

and vulnerable to psychotropic substances.

If he consumes them,
they will control his life.

Though not cured, we can avoid
irreversible damage caused by the disease

by abstaining from alcohol

and all psychotropic substances for life.

For life.

Chronic alcohol intoxication causes
lesions in the digestive tract:

Esophagitis, gastritis,
duodenitis, colitis...

Cardio-vascular disease
linked to vitamin B deficiency,

arterial hypertension...

And nervous system ailments
such as epilepsy,

paranoia, delirium tremens
and Korsakov's syndrome.

- What's that?
- Dementia.

Alzheimer's for alcoholics.

As for the liver...

Reversible damage:
Alcoholic hepatitis,

small holes in the organ.
The liver can regenerate.

Irreversible damage:
Cirrhosis.

The liver necroses, shrinks,
can no longer eliminate.

Varicose veins develop in the esophagus.
If they burst,

you have massive hemorrhaging,
you vomit blood

and death comes quickly.

See you next week.

Those of you who are still here.

Need a little pick-me-up, Marquis?

I'm the Marquis of "Khara".

"Noble among nobles
in the Kingdom of Shit."

- You speak Arabic?
- And Persian, Drusian and Chaldean.

I wanted to join Champollion.
Wrong century.

So instead I work at the UN,
researching emerging countries,

writing reports nobody reads.

My only expeditions are to the bar.
The UN's got one on every floor.

- What do you do?
- Journalist.

- I run a press agency.
- Now that's a real job.

I haven't gotten my Gamma GT results.
Why's it taking so long?

Worried, Marquis?

Look me in the eyes.
Go on.

You're fine, trust me.

You're awfully quiet.

I don't blame you.
For me, the die is cast.

- Don't say that.
- No worries, I'm a clown.

Clowns never die.
It's a law of nature.

Hey girls, wait up!

Let's raise a glass to Dr. Marcus!

He's throwing a big bash tomorrow night!

Only the finest Bordeaux will do!

So that's where his bread goes.

- Don't make fun of him.
- I'm not.

Gunther!

Gut job!

Come see.

Look, a squirrel.

Pierre!

Got a light?

Yes...

- What's up?
- A squirrel.

Terror last night in Bali,

as bombs exploded
in a nightclub and restaurant.

Damage is extensive
and there are at least 150 dead.

We don't yet know if French tourists
are among the victims.

The explosions caused fires
in nearby buildings.

Cyril Payen is our Asian correspondent.

Rescue teams searched through the night...

- Put it back on, Sandra.
- It's upsetting.

But I'm interested!

Hervé, change it, please.

- What?
- Change it.

What for?

It upsets her.
Have some respect.

We know you're a journalist,
but screw the news.

You live in a bubble.
Sure, terrorism

is worlds away!
And we've got our squirrel!

But I wanna hear the news.

Sorry Hervé, but I disagree.

It's so beautiful out,

I want to feel good.

I can't save the world,
but maybe I can save myself.

Alcohol's not your problem.

All you want is comfort!

A little money and comfort,
that's what life's about!

How dare you? My bistro's in debt
and I have 3 kids to feed.

Jean-Marie'd be broke without his sister.
Don't judge.

- He says he's from Arles...
- It's from...

Then he says Collioure...
He's so full of it.

I think you know just about everybody.

See you later.

Hi, Magali.

- Sit down...
- Thanks.

Good evening, Magali.

Are you good?

It was the tree outside my window.

It's too high.

I've seen you before.

At the entrance.

I was coming and you were going.

Were those your parents?

You've tried before, right?

- What's your poison?
- I'm an alcoholic.

Like you.

How much can you drink, at your age?

How long have you been drinking,
five years?

Is that good?

You like to read.

Are you studying?

Is he a cop?

Worse, a journalist.

I'll leave you alone.

Luckily it was your left arm.

Unless you're left-handed?

Are you?
Or don't you like salad?

I like to read.

And drink, and get into trouble.
That's all I like.

So leave me the fuck alone.

Today's exercise is about hitting bottom.

The worst thing we can remember,

or that someone told us.

Our lowest moment,
something we're extremely ashamed of.

Magali, alcoholic.

No eating during the meeting.
Hi, Magali.

The idea is to remember your lowest moment,

jot it down in a few words
and slip it into your wallet

so you can access it
when you doubt your disease.

You think a few words can stop us drinking?

It's a tool.

I often used it when I craved a drink.

I still can't believe you're an alkie.

Because you see me today.

Most of the people working here
are in recovery.

When did you quit?

Nine years ago.

Nine years...
That's too long, isn't it?

My bottom was handed to me by my wife.

She'd been to a meeting
for co-dependants or something.

They told her to stop picking me up.

Leave me where I fell,
so I'd wake up and realize.

He accepted the idea.

She took a photo of me on the landing,
dead drunk.

She put the photo next to me...

and left.

She was right.

- To leave?
- No, to take the photo.

Yes.

It's true.

I propose we split into pairs.

Tell your partner your bottom,
and he or she will tell the group.

Any questions?

Choose your partners, like at a dance.

You've got about 15 minutes.

You can go outside if you like.

Are you listening?

- You go to...
- Lyon.

Right.
You go to Lyon for a meeting.

Yeah, a debate.

Right, a public debate.

And then...

You make an excuse

and duck out because you're drunk.

You get paranoid,
go to your hotel room and drink.

Finish the night in a bar.

Try to take a taxi but you're broke...

You really think this'll help?

Then I catch the train, still wasted.

Not wanting to go home.
Still drinking.

I drive off in my car...

Start to make a phone call,
and run into cops.

Watch your driving!
Put down your phone.

One leans in and smells my breath.

"Get out of the vehicle, sir."

Are you tired?
Get out now, please.

- Have you been drinking, sir?
- No... Well, I have...

They handcuff me.

Haul me in.

And?

I was near home.

Someone saw me.

Wow.

Who?

Your turn.

What if I don't want to?

Your turn.

What do you wanna hear?

Something really trashy?
To blow them away?

Young doesn't have to mean stupid.

I'll make up a story for you.

A real trashy one.

She's home one night.

She wants to party with her friends
but her mom says no.

So she sneaks a beer.

Gets an SMS:
"We're waiting for you".

She downs another beer.
Another SMS: "Where the hell are you?"

She decides to go.
Her mother tries to stop her.

"You can't stop me, bitch!"

Her mother cries, but blocks the door.

Magali grabs her by the throat.

Her mother chokes and falls down.

Magali doesn't care.
She slams the door behind her.

No mistakes so far?

- No.
- That's not all.

She meets her friends at a disco.
She's got no cash

so she hits them up, one by one.
They get pissed off. She leaves.

Finds another bar.

Lets an old guy pick her up.

An old guy like me.

She sucks him off in the toilets,
for 20 euros.

For 20 euros.

She drinks to chase it away.
Fails.

Drinks some more.

Passes out.
End of story.

Black-out.
She wakes up at the police station.

But...

Did you really have to be with that guy?

Weren't there other choices?

Yeah, maybe.

Was your mom ok?

Yeah.

What do your parents do, Mag?

They're both dermatologists.

The question is for Hervé.
Why'd you tell it like that?

- Like what?
- Like you don't care.

Come on, guys...

- Her story is bullshit.
- How do you know?

You don't know me, asshole.

- Coming with us, Hélène?
- Yes. Guide me through it,

- stay close.
- You'll be fine.

And you can have a real espresso.

A hard drug compared to our decaf!

- Who's our chaperon?
- Martin.

He's a bore.
Always playing the shrink.

Be nice, he went through hell.

Yeah, honey.
Pass me Mom, please.

Hi, how are you?

No, I lost my wallet.

I don't know. In a bar, I guess.

I can't ask Michel.
We had an argument.

Because I ditched the debate.

I need you to do me a favor.
Please.

Call the hotel and give them
your credit card number.

Right away, ok?

Hervé?

Look.

I think he's hungry.

I found him in the bushes.
All alone.

If his mom left him, he's a reject.

You're the reject.

Hey, handsome!
You're so handsome.

Why'd your mom leave you?

I'll take care of you.

Want me to rub your tummy?

You'll see.

It's not mommy's tongue
but it feels almost as nice.

You women are strange.

Life with you is like a Disney movie.

You don't like animals?

I'm more concerned about human beings.

He's not long for this world.

Personally, I'm less concerned with humans.

Really?

We have nothing to be proud of.

Here. He might be thirsty.

You're right.

We've nothing to be proud of.

I know, I've traveled the world
for 40 years.

- You've got a mission?
- More of an obsession.

- Is that better?
- I can't help it. Injustice pisses me off.

I'm obsessed, enraged...
a neurotic perfectionist.

- You can't turn it off?
- No, never.

It's with me when I drive,
eat, shower, fuck...

It was your first drug.

Hold him for a second.

See?

The kid's right,
she's not as dumb as she acts.

The kid's got something to say
about journalists.

- Something I know and you don't.
- Oh yeah?

You're lousy in bed.

You're too impatient.

A whole profession
of premature ejaculators.

You've got some nerve.

It's a shame.

I like the way you talk about it.

Your eyes light up.

It's nice and warm here.

Hervé...

As of today, mail is allowed.

Phone calls too, between 7 and 8 pm.
And you have access to the park.

Have a nice walk.

Hey, Pierre!
Where are you headed?

A little restaurant in Ivoire.

Sautéed perch and white wine.
The waitress has a crush on me.

The waitress likes me.
Coming?

- You never stop.
- Never.

Is all that candy for you?

No, for my son.
He's coming tomorrow.

- Isn't he a teenager?
- Yeah.

But that's all they've got.

- Is it stupid?
- Yeah, kind of.

It won't help him grow up.

See you.

Let's say life is a bike ride.

Sometimes it's flat,

sometimes it's a downhill slide.

We alcoholics are given a bike
with no brakes.

Let me explain.

If someone pricks your toe, what happens?

The pain rises to the brain. How?

- Anyone know?
- Electricity?

Yes, an electrical current.
A message from one neuron to another.

Neurons have arms, reaching out

to their neighboring neurons.
But between their arms, there's a gap.

So how do they fill the gap?

- Could you stand up, miss?
- Me?

Yes, you. What's your name?

Magali, why?

Put down your pencil and extend your arm
toward your neighbor,

who will rise and do the same.

Magali is a neuron with information
for her neighboring neuron.

Their outstretched arms don't quite touch.

How will the information be relayed?

Like this?

Tiny water droplets transmit the current.

Neurotransmitters.

Most of you have heard of them.
There's...

Adrenalin?

Adrenalin. Dopamine, serotonin,
endorphins... and GABA.

Sorry.

GABA is the one we're interested in,
as alcoholics.

What happens when we have a drink?

- It's good.
- Right. Be more precise.

A great sensation of pleasure.

- What else?
- A feeling of calm.

That's right.

Initially, alcohol releases GABA,

a natural sedative.

But soon the process begins to reverse.

The brain uses alcohol
as a neurotransmitter instead of GABA.

The body is not stupid.

It starts making less GABA,
because it doesn't need it.

Do you follow me?

However, it now needs alcohol
in order to function.

Your bike has lost its brakes.

And it hits a wall.

Wait for me!

I'm coming with you.

You're going to get Pierre?

What'll happen to him now?

First we get him back, then we'll see.

He may not be able to stay.

A death sentence, in sum?

We can't force him to stay.

Know why dogs lick their dicks?

- Because they can!
- Hello.

- He paid with his watch.
- Thanks. How much?

18 euros, please.

"What d'ya want from Santa?"
"30 euros, like any john!"

Let's go, Pierre.

Back off, you ballbreaker.

- That's enough.
- Keep your hands off me!

I'm ok.

Jo, can I get a drink for my pal here?

- What'll we have?
- Enough.

Yeah... enough.

- Sorry about your watch.
- Don't worry, it doesn't matter.

What got into you?

The fear of a man sitting in chair
and realizing it's empty.

That's what I felt.

I was sitting with the group,
but my chair was empty.

Not a trace of me on it,
not even the heat of my ass.

So I figured if I'm gonna disappear,
I might as well go out happy.

Not deprive myself.

That's one way to look at it.

Except it's not happy.
I'd forgotten.

There's another way.

I spoke to Carol.

Your liver's damaged,

but it's not irreversible.

You can start fresh.
You'll be ok.

You'll be ok.

I won't be able to resist out there!

Jesus Christ!

You're my pal.
You'll be ok.

Come on.

I'm sorry... I'm sorry.

You're beautiful.
You look well.

- I am well.
- You came alone?

Hervé!

They're keeping me! They're keeping me!

- This is my wife, Agnès.
- Excuse me. Lovely to meet you.

You're not mean, you're not violent...

You're not anything.

And you're always tired.

After dinner, in bed...
You wake up tired.

Outings postponed, invitations cancelled.
You take no interest in our home.

Except for choosing the wine.

You're responsible financially,
I'll give you that.

But you're sad, and boring.

You're elsewhere.

Can you describe the most difficult times
you've experienced,

with regards to his drinking?

I'd rather not.

It's important for Hervé to hear.

To know the damage he's caused at home,
to his family.

Wasn't your son coming?

He had to stay home to study.

She's protecting me.
He didn't want to.

Thomas hasn't spoken to me in a year.

- I didn't know.
- I don't like to talk about it.

When I come home,
he goes straight to his room.

He refuses to be in the same room with me.

It must be easier with me gone.

It is easier, yes.
For him and for me.

I no longer wonder
where you are, if you're ok.

I sleep at night.

I'm not afraid anymore.
Except of the day you come home.

I don't know if I'm strong enough.

We've made love twice in a year.
Once he fell asleep during it.

Hey, Carol's not a marriage counselor.

You don't get it, this is ruining my life!

Your absence is good for me.

I was at the end of my rope.

Are you ok?

Turn it off.

Agnès...

Turn off the light, please.

I'm ok.

I'm ok.

I don't touch my wife anymore,
I go to whores.

But it doesn't work so well.

So... I try to spice it up.
I get two at a time.

A threesome is more exciting.

Well, more exciting...
in my head, anyway.

Because in real life... it's expensive.

I'm faithful.
Twenty years with the same woman.

We don't do it much anymore.
But I don't mind.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

So what'll you do when you get out?

I'll give up sex.

- Give up sex?
- Yes.

I think I already have.

Drinking was like a disguise.
I let them do anything.

I'd get...
I don't know, dirtier.

She's right.

We lose our dignity.

I know a lot about losing my dignity.

And when you do, you become a hole.

Nothing but a fucking hole.

Jean-Marie?

After my divorce, I tried, but I couldn't.

It's so embarrassing.

Embarrassing...

Now when a woman comes on to me,
I take off.

I run away.

I freak out.

I'd rather drink.

Hervé, you're awfully quiet.

I'd rather not talk.

I don't think this applies to me,
I'm too old.

- Why do you say that?
- I don't know.

One night you performed fellatio
for a drink...

I slept with a man my whole life
for a fitted kitchen.

With gold faucets.

So I don't think it's so bad.

What you did is not so bad.

Come on, get up!
Come on, guys!

Whiskey, please!
Give me a whiskey and I'll go.

You're all wimps.

Hervé!

I knew you I could count on you.

No big deal!

It's ok.

How old are you?

Twenty-three.

Want one?

I still don't get it.

You're a baby.
How can you be an alcoholic?

Fuck you.

It can happen. I'm living proof.

Got a boyfriend?

Yeah.

- Are you in love?
- No.

Got a boyfriend, but is not in love.
So that's why you drink.

I suppose you still love your wife?

Very much.

You men talk about love
but only want to fuck.

I don't care.

I don't believe you.

Fine.

If it's any comfort,
I don't want to fuck you.

I don't believe you.

I don't believe you, and it's no comfort.

Shall we?

Coming?

Don't fuck around.
Get rid of that.

- I don't want to.
- Stop...

- I don't want to be good.
- Stop fucking around.

Get rid of it.

It's not wine, it's vinegar.
It's been here for centuries.

It won't get you high.

Stop acting like this.

Get lost.

Get lost.

Get lost, I said.

Today, Hervé will tell us his story.

Hervé, you've got about 45 minutes.
Take your time.

I was up most of the night
thinking about what to say.

I could tell you I was born
in a small town in 1958.

I could tell you about my job,

my wife, my kid...
But that wouldn't tell you much.

I'll tell you about
my maternal grandfather, Ferdinand.

He used to take me with him in his Citroen,

when he delivered bread to villages.

"What're you drinking, Ferdinand?

"How 'bout the kid?"

"Give him some red wine
cut with water and sugar."

I don't like to talk about myself,
I'm more a man of action.

I traveled the world spouting off about
peace and justice. Meanwhile...

I went downhill.

I wasn't about to stop and think
about my trivial concerns.

I may act tough,
but let me tell you about Africa.

And my little sister.

This is really about her.

My parents were volunteers.

When I was 13,
they went to Bouaké, Ivory Coast.

The middle of nowhere.

And... when I was 15,

I was in school there and I wanted a dog.

You know, a buddy.

We found a mutt and called her Sarah.

Sarah was my dog.

I had to beg my dad to let me keep her.

One day, she died.

The vet told us it was rabies.

Everyone in contact with the dog
had to get rabies vaccinations.

That meant my older sister Claire,

my little sister Ariane, and me.

One night,
Ariane said she didn't feel well.

Meningitis was mentioned.
I didn't understand.

A medical plane rushed her
and my parents to Abidjan.

By the time Claire and I
got to the hospital,

she was dead.

She got a bad vaccination,
and it caused rabies.

Why my sister?

Why her?

Why not me?

On the trip back,

that's all I could think about.

Maybe I was going to die too.

Yeah...

I moved my fingers, craned my neck,
checked for pains...

My sister had just died,
and I was focusing on myself.

I was a monster,

a bastard, a piece of shit.

At that moment, I realized.

Ariane died because I had imposed
a dog on the family.

I didn't drink to forget, I was fifteen.

But I became sad.
Then guilty.

Anyway...

Later, alcohol helped me
find joy again, laughter.

It gave me the guts to live.

I became a reporter.

I saw many wars.

I never missed a massacre.
But I missed vacations with my son.

I covered those wars for me.

Alcohol and the thrill of adventure...
I needed both.

In luxury hotels or shantytowns,
I needed my pick-me-up.

I was a death-defying barfly.

I lived with booze, but I was sure
I could live without it.

As it got worse,
I just figured I was a bon vivant!

I was proud to be the biggest daredevil.

On the job, in bars, in bed.
Always far from home.

My dad taught my son tennis.
Where was I?

In meetings or on a plane.

Then I became head
of a burgeoning TV agency.

I was hooked on my job, head honcho,
a real workaholic.

I lost track of all the alcohol I drank.
By now I was self-medicating.

You know the rest.
We've all been there.

Depression, black-outs,

memory loss,
mental confusion, aggressive behavior.

Then my father died.

Nathalie? It's Hervé.

I can't make the meeting with Fabre!

Time to put the body in the coffin.

I'll call you back.

After the burial, I went to the cellar.

I found a dozen bottles
lined up in a row. Cheap wine.

I drank every bottle, one after the other.

I was secretly drinking my father.

And then...

If Thomas hadn't come...

But he came, and I ran away.

Hervé!

I told myself for the 350th time
that I'd quit.

Only this time I knew I really had to.

I really fucking need you guys.

Thank you, Hervé.

I'm off.
Have a good weekend.

- Say hi to the wife.
- Ok.

She bought a BMW without telling me.
She had my credit card.

Uh oh!

Last time I did rehab, she bought a Rover.

I gotta check my accounts.
I don't trust her.

- You do that, Gunther.
- You gotta leave her, man. End of story.

If she bugs me, I'll come back early.

- We're with you.
- Stay sober.

- Don't forget to come back!
- Goodbye.

- Poor guy.
- He's scared shitless.

- So am I.
- Where are you going?

Geneva, my sister's place.

I'll watch TV and eat pastry.

She's got a bakery.

I won't leave the house.
If I do, I'll drink.

I'm too weak.

What about you?

I'm gonna help Hélène
finish her puzzle. If she doesn't mind.

Sure.

- And I've got a date with Patrick.
- Who's Patrick?

The hairdresser.

Hervé? You have a visitor.

This is my pad.

I sleep here. Pierre sleeps there.

You saw him downstairs.
Nice guy. Real nice guy.

I've made friends here, Thomas.

That's the serenity prayer.

We say it every morning,
huddling together. In a circle.

I know what you're thinking,
but you're wrong.

Life moves slower here.
I'm seeing things I never saw.

Little things, without importance.

The way the light comes into my room.
It's silly, but...

Even walking.
Walking is amazing, I feel my legs.

Seriously, it makes me feel good.

You don't know me like this, do you?
Surprised?

There was a room, locked in my head.
And thanks to the others,

I've found the key and can go inside.

Carol, the therapist...
what an amazing woman.

The nurses, too.
All former alcoholics.

We're all on a first-name basis.
It really makes a difference.

There's no hierarchy in this community.

We all suffer from the same disease,
but together,

we want to beat it.

I thought this was prison and real life
was outside, but it's the opposite.

Real life is right here.

Real life?

Seriously?

I'm sick, Thomas.
They've taught me that.

I'm sick. It's like heart disease,
or tuberculosis, or asthma.

I'm not a monster, I have a disease.
It's not a choice.

I'll stop drinking, but I won't be cured.

My dependency on alcohol
will always be with me.

- Will you quit smoking too?
- No.

- Why not?
- I don't feel like it.

- It stinks at home.
- Cut me a break!

Hi.

Hi, sweetie.

Pretty cool here, huh?

She's 23 and hooked on booze.

- What's it like to be hooked?
- Horrible.

- Why?
- Because you know.

You know you're harming yourself
and others and you can't stop.

- What's it like to want it?
- It's a need.

A need you can't escape.

- And when you drink?
- It's a relief.

Then you want to drink more.
It's never enough.

Why couldn't you stop yourself?

- I don't know. I tried but couldn't.
- But why?

I don't know. I really don't know.

So you're sick and that's that?

You think it's hereditary?

Don't worry, it can skip a generation.

You're washing your hands of it.

I don't believe all that.
I think...

when you have a drink in front of you,
you make a choice.

With each drink you were killing Mom,
yourself, us. You made a choice.

You're a fool if you think otherwise.

Anyway.

What's for dessert?

Catch, dummy!

- Have you seen Magali?
- No, Hervé.

Like my new haircut?

Gorgeous!

I knew you'd piss me off eventually.

Have you been drinking?

Have you?

Don't fuck with me.
What'd you drink?

Vodka.

New packaging.

Awesome, huh?

No, it's not awesome, it's stupid.

It's for bimbos like you,
who think it's "awesome".

No need to insult me.

I'm just telling you the truth.

Of all the girls I've known,
you're the biggest loser. By far!

How dare you?
Who do you think you are?

Listen to me, before it's too late.

You're not my father or my lover,
so fuck off!

Magali, you're 23, don't fuck up your life.

- You old wino.
- Don't fuck up your life!

I'm not, I'm living it!
Can't you tell?

Can't you see
how great it is? How happy I am?

Go back to your alkie friends
and leave me alone!

You're staying here.

You're staying here and getting help.
You hear me?

- You hear me?
- Let me go.

You're going to get better.

Help!
Hervé's trying to rape me!

I hope you croak.

And soon.

Happy birthday You're well on your way

To recovery Our dear friend Jean-Marie

We're here to say
We're with you all the way

Happy birthday

I miss the kid.

It's sad, but she brought it on herself.

I'm glad she's gone.
She spoiled the atmosphere.

Screw the atmosphere!
She's a kid!

I'm not on vacation.
I'm here to save my skin.

So to hell with everyone else?

Hey, it's my birthday!

Can't you try to get her back here?

- I don't think she wants that.
- She needs it.

We can't save her
if she doesn't want to be saved.

It's your fault, you let her dealer in.

- I'm sorry, but he was searched.
- Did you know where the vodka was?

The vodka was in a tube of toothpaste!
It's your fault she's gone.

Dammit!

Now I wanna get drunk!

- Calm down. Have some cake.
- Fuck off!

Shit!

Hervé?

You got a thing going on with the kid?

You were with her the other night.

Where'd you hear that?

Who told you that?

Kris.

Magali's roommate.
Girls tell each other everything.

We just talked.

Believe me.

- You like her?
- She's 23 years old.

I'm going for a smoke.

You like her because she's lost.

Get off my back.

You're not going to like
what I'm about to say.

That girl is a drama queen.

You thrive on drama.

So her problems are like a drug to you.

You're addicted to that, too.

You have 2 more weeks here,
then the hard part starts.

Forget her fast, think of yourself.

She makes me feel good.

I don't want to explain it.
I can't, anyway.

- So take your lecture and shove it.
- Ok.

Sorry, but I'm a loyal guy,
and real friends are rare.

I'll miss you too, Pierre.

Know what?

I'm gonna call you when you get out.

- Keep an eye on you.
- Spy on me!

We'll go to that restaurant in Ivoire.

Sit by the lake

and have filet of perch and Diet Coke.
What do you say?

It's a deal.

- Want a joke?
- No.

Too bad, it was a good one.

Pierre?

Help!

Martin?

Martin?

Hurry!

Pierre?

Pierre, can you hear me?

Hang in there.

Yes, it's me.

Thanks.

Upper digestive hemorrhage followed
by heart failure.

He died in the ambulance.

MY HUSBAND

Shall we get a platter for two?
Their seafood is great.

What shall we drink?

Chablis?

Bubbly for me.

Champagne?
Great idea.

No, bubbly water.

What?
Not even a glass?

Go on, it's harmless.

- I've got work.
- Who'll I toast with?

Loosen up, a little buzz won't hurt you.

- Waiter.
- You don't understand.

I'm through. No more wine.
I drank my quota.

Oh, sorry.

- Mind if I drink?
- Do what you like.

Alcohol is fine small quantities.

Now that you're cured,
you can learn to use moderation.

But it's up to you.

And now...

Thanks Hervé, thanks José.

You showed no mercy, José!

It's all real.
A friend of mine said that stuff.

Hervé, you're about to do your 24 hours.

If offered a drink, what do you do?

Say you're allergic, say what you like.

But don't count on others to protect you.

When you get out, you'll have a new life.

And a new enemy.
A serious enemy.

Your memory.

Reminding you of "the good old days"
when you drank.

Avoid places that are linked
to your drinking past.

Avoid walking past your favorite bar.

Keep away from the dealer's street.

Change as much as you can.
Take a different road to work.

I even changed toothpaste.

Too many bad memories!

You'll find yourself in risky situations.

Dinner parties, celebrations...

Remember you're free to leave.

You have the right to leave.

I forget which rock star said,

"Run as fast as you can
And don't look back".

Hello.

- Diet Coke, please. And filet of perch.
- Coming right up.

- Here you go.
- Thank you.

- Is there a room available?
- Of course.

Hi, it's Hervé.

I was wondering how you've been.

I'm at a hotel, doing my 24 hours.

So how are you?

Where?

I'd better not.

Where did you say?

This is Hervé.

Joana, Julot...

and Erwan.

Good evening.

Diet Coke, please.

Where's your boyfriend?

We broke up.

I'm so lucky I met you!

Usually it never works out
between me and older men.

It's always been like that.

Something goes wrong, and when it does...

You drink. I can relate.

But there's no other way.

Sure there is.

- No.
- There is.

I'm telling you there isn't!

There's no other way.

Let's do the car game!

- It'll be fun!
- I'll wait.

- Please!
- I'll wait for you.

- You'll wait for me?
- Yes.

You'll wait for me?

Double scotch.

I'll be out in just two weeks.
It won't be easy.

I admit I'm scared.
I'm writing to tell you,

Thomas, I'm going to need you.

At night, when you see me up

with insomnia,

don't walk away, come sit with me.

I'll probably smoke.
But I'll open the window, I promise.

I love you, son.

Take care of yourself.

"Our greatest achievement is not never
falling down, but always getting up."

Sophie chose those words.

Jean-Marie relapsed
several weeks after he got out.

He called me twice,
saying he'd come to Paris and quit.

But he never came.
And now I can't reach him.

Gunther made it three months.

Went back to rehab, now he's clean.

As for lovely Sandra, her depression
keeps pushing her to drink.

Soledad is hanging in there.

At her bistro,
she avoids socializing with customers.

Kris went back to Norway.

She still loves men, but she's off vodka.

Hélène's good.

She left her husband
and lives with her daughter.

Magali left home.

I don't hear from her anymore.
She's disappeared.

And...

I'm still sober.