Regarder Oana (2009) - full transcript
Oana is working. I am watching her. Tonight the very last file will be closed. She does not want to translate words of others anymore. She thinks tomorrow she will start writing her own words. But she don't. I know that...
"Les Films du Nord",
"La Boîte... productions"
and "Suivez mon regard"
present:
with funding from
Centre Images - Centre Region,
CRRAV Nord-Pas de Calais
and the Nord-Pas de Calais Region,
Procirep - Angoa-Agicoa
and the CNC
(support program),
a film to read and listen to:
"Watching Oana".
you pull the words into shape
like an old pair of panties
no longer even reading them
just knocking them out
your fingers move
from keyboard
to coffee
from keyboard to coffee
and here I stand
watching you
the dictionary always by your side
you never open it
tonight it will be closed
your very last file
dispatched
I remember the days
when you used to translate
poetry
Well?
I didn't understand a word.
- Not even the odd word?
- Not even.
But did you like the music of it?
- You're translating that?
- Yes. I only read you the end.
- It's called "Elegy for the Egg".
- "Elegy for the Egg".
- What's it about?
- Well, I'll read you the bit
I've just translated:
"The self tries to get out of the self,
"the eye from the eye
and still one's self
"settles upon itself heavy,
like black snow.
"From one egg to another, larger,
you are forever being born,
"wing that has never flown.
"Only from sleep can we awaken
"from the skin of life,
no-one, ever."
Not bad!
What a nice smell.
- What are you making?
- White wine jelly with
aniseed, cinnamon and cardamon.
To go with the cheese tomorrow.
Smells good.
Not as good as you do,
just here.
I love it when you tell me I smell good.
What do I smell of?
Coffee, of course,
with the amount you drink.
Your poem
has made me hungry.
Shall we make an omelette?
If you like.
The era of poetry
did not last
since then only instruction leaflets
user manuals
reports
"international epidemiological
"survey into the use of ambulatory
"blood pressure monitoring"
always the words of others
you say it's the last time
that you want to write your own words
but you'll never write
I know that
it's too late now
it is not words
that will
come out of you
Will you give me a quick massage?
Ok. But you have to go and get the oil.
I've got to get up anyway.
I'm applying at the restaurant
"Ramequin Délicieux" tomorrow.
They need a pastry chef.
What?
I hope you get the job!
There's no reason why I shouldn't.
I got the sweet almond oil, ok?
Mustard oil would've been better.
It suits you better.
But sweet almond will do.
No!
Stop! No,
not there I've just had a pee!
Exactly, that's when I like it best.
Why have you stopped?
- Didn't you want a massage?
- Yes, but...
Go on, roll over on your front
and I'll knead you a bit.
But you can't just stop now.
Don't worry.
You'll see, it'll be really good.
Afterwards,
we'll get back to your little treat.
You sigh
this file is endless
the very last file
you think
your fingers fly
over the keys
without a thought
and I see those fingers
and I know the rest
all that is hidden under
your old jumper
all of it!
your hand so smooth
your wrist
unadorned
your arm
always white
the sharp shoulders
I've explored every nook of your body
I have
breathed it
kneaded it
licked it
this body
never revealed
to anyone
other than
me
What?
D'you fancy eating razor clams tonight?
I don't know. What are they?
These things here.
I can't see, you're too far away.
These things.
Look, they're everywhere.
Can you eat them?
These are empty.
But we can try the market.
How do you prepare them?
First, you have to
leave them to soak,
then you fry them
in a bit of butter,
garlic, shallots and parsley.
This one's really beautiful.
Yes.
But look, it's really sharp!
What's wrong with you!
Sorry, sorry.
- That hurts!
- I'm really sorry.
- Look, I'm bleeding.
- Wait, let's see your finger.
- No.
- Go on, show me your finger.
No. I know you're going
to put it in your mouth!
It'll make it better.
Put it in your own mouth, then.
- I don't like the taste of blood.
- Well...
let me do it.
That's soooo good.
- What?
- Nothing.
- What did you say?
- You'll just have to learn.
I don't have time.
- I should have when I was out of work.
- Why didn't you?
Look. It's better now.
Shall we go eat
those razor clams?
Yes
and I know too that the child
that will come from you
will be as I see him
as I know him to be
when I
beat together
sugar
flour
eggs
I know
what will
come out of
the oven
last night you told me
"I want to write"
that's what you think
you imagine
You'll see, the food's really good here.
I've been a few times before,
it's excellent.
And it's a beautiful place, isn't it?
Are you ok?
- I was lost in my thoughts.
- Care to share?
I'm going to give up translating,
I think.
It was interesting at first,
but for 3 years now
it's just paid the bills.
Now that we're better off,
I could do something else.
What would you like to do?
Write.
Really?
In the past
it's never turned out right.
I feel ready now.
Well... that's great!
When do you want to start?
I'll finish the medical report tomorrow
and then I'll move on.
Your Sancerre.
Perfect.
To us!
Happy anniversary.
It's good, isn't it?
Four years.
And everything's all right?
Apart from the writing thing, I mean.
Yes, of course!
You know...
I don't know about you,
but I really want us to have a baby.
Don't you?
- Straight away?
- Well, you are thirty-two.
- Charming.
- Don't get upset, sweetie.
- But I'm still young.
- I know. I never said you weren't.
Having children late in life
isn't too good.
Especially for the child.
I'm not ready.
I haven't done anything yet.
You'll get used to the idea.
Soon it'll seem
like the natural thing to do.
You'll be able to take the time
to write while you're pregnant.
That'll be good, won't it?
It was yesterday
your fingers stop
the words have been made to fit
standing in front of your computer
you do not look at me
you take off your sweater
your mottled breasts
act as if I weren't there
you slip off your pants
naked
you look your body up and down
you grab the skin of your crotch
tearing it off
the skin comes away
exposing your flesh
your blood your organs
the network of your veins
no skin left on your belly
or your legs
or your arms
or your face
nowhere
save on the floor
you observe the hide
lying on the ground
at last
you raise your eyes
your blood is pumping
through your veins
red and blue
the rhythms of your heart
I see it beating beneath your ribs
in the juddering
of your lungs
and I see
the air moving
the muscles
of your arms
glisten
the fat of your breasts
the vibrations of your intestines
the chattering of your jaw
the rolling of your eyeballs
the creaking of your bones
so much blood
you pick up the skin
you come closer to me
this is not the you I knew
you hold out the skin to me
you say
here
it's yours
and you leave
Subtitling Titra Film Paris
NAO!
"La Boîte... productions"
and "Suivez mon regard"
present:
with funding from
Centre Images - Centre Region,
CRRAV Nord-Pas de Calais
and the Nord-Pas de Calais Region,
Procirep - Angoa-Agicoa
and the CNC
(support program),
a film to read and listen to:
"Watching Oana".
you pull the words into shape
like an old pair of panties
no longer even reading them
just knocking them out
your fingers move
from keyboard
to coffee
from keyboard to coffee
and here I stand
watching you
the dictionary always by your side
you never open it
tonight it will be closed
your very last file
dispatched
I remember the days
when you used to translate
poetry
Well?
I didn't understand a word.
- Not even the odd word?
- Not even.
But did you like the music of it?
- You're translating that?
- Yes. I only read you the end.
- It's called "Elegy for the Egg".
- "Elegy for the Egg".
- What's it about?
- Well, I'll read you the bit
I've just translated:
"The self tries to get out of the self,
"the eye from the eye
and still one's self
"settles upon itself heavy,
like black snow.
"From one egg to another, larger,
you are forever being born,
"wing that has never flown.
"Only from sleep can we awaken
"from the skin of life,
no-one, ever."
Not bad!
What a nice smell.
- What are you making?
- White wine jelly with
aniseed, cinnamon and cardamon.
To go with the cheese tomorrow.
Smells good.
Not as good as you do,
just here.
I love it when you tell me I smell good.
What do I smell of?
Coffee, of course,
with the amount you drink.
Your poem
has made me hungry.
Shall we make an omelette?
If you like.
The era of poetry
did not last
since then only instruction leaflets
user manuals
reports
"international epidemiological
"survey into the use of ambulatory
"blood pressure monitoring"
always the words of others
you say it's the last time
that you want to write your own words
but you'll never write
I know that
it's too late now
it is not words
that will
come out of you
Will you give me a quick massage?
Ok. But you have to go and get the oil.
I've got to get up anyway.
I'm applying at the restaurant
"Ramequin Délicieux" tomorrow.
They need a pastry chef.
What?
I hope you get the job!
There's no reason why I shouldn't.
I got the sweet almond oil, ok?
Mustard oil would've been better.
It suits you better.
But sweet almond will do.
No!
Stop! No,
not there I've just had a pee!
Exactly, that's when I like it best.
Why have you stopped?
- Didn't you want a massage?
- Yes, but...
Go on, roll over on your front
and I'll knead you a bit.
But you can't just stop now.
Don't worry.
You'll see, it'll be really good.
Afterwards,
we'll get back to your little treat.
You sigh
this file is endless
the very last file
you think
your fingers fly
over the keys
without a thought
and I see those fingers
and I know the rest
all that is hidden under
your old jumper
all of it!
your hand so smooth
your wrist
unadorned
your arm
always white
the sharp shoulders
I've explored every nook of your body
I have
breathed it
kneaded it
licked it
this body
never revealed
to anyone
other than
me
What?
D'you fancy eating razor clams tonight?
I don't know. What are they?
These things here.
I can't see, you're too far away.
These things.
Look, they're everywhere.
Can you eat them?
These are empty.
But we can try the market.
How do you prepare them?
First, you have to
leave them to soak,
then you fry them
in a bit of butter,
garlic, shallots and parsley.
This one's really beautiful.
Yes.
But look, it's really sharp!
What's wrong with you!
Sorry, sorry.
- That hurts!
- I'm really sorry.
- Look, I'm bleeding.
- Wait, let's see your finger.
- No.
- Go on, show me your finger.
No. I know you're going
to put it in your mouth!
It'll make it better.
Put it in your own mouth, then.
- I don't like the taste of blood.
- Well...
let me do it.
That's soooo good.
- What?
- Nothing.
- What did you say?
- You'll just have to learn.
I don't have time.
- I should have when I was out of work.
- Why didn't you?
Look. It's better now.
Shall we go eat
those razor clams?
Yes
and I know too that the child
that will come from you
will be as I see him
as I know him to be
when I
beat together
sugar
flour
eggs
I know
what will
come out of
the oven
last night you told me
"I want to write"
that's what you think
you imagine
You'll see, the food's really good here.
I've been a few times before,
it's excellent.
And it's a beautiful place, isn't it?
Are you ok?
- I was lost in my thoughts.
- Care to share?
I'm going to give up translating,
I think.
It was interesting at first,
but for 3 years now
it's just paid the bills.
Now that we're better off,
I could do something else.
What would you like to do?
Write.
Really?
In the past
it's never turned out right.
I feel ready now.
Well... that's great!
When do you want to start?
I'll finish the medical report tomorrow
and then I'll move on.
Your Sancerre.
Perfect.
To us!
Happy anniversary.
It's good, isn't it?
Four years.
And everything's all right?
Apart from the writing thing, I mean.
Yes, of course!
You know...
I don't know about you,
but I really want us to have a baby.
Don't you?
- Straight away?
- Well, you are thirty-two.
- Charming.
- Don't get upset, sweetie.
- But I'm still young.
- I know. I never said you weren't.
Having children late in life
isn't too good.
Especially for the child.
I'm not ready.
I haven't done anything yet.
You'll get used to the idea.
Soon it'll seem
like the natural thing to do.
You'll be able to take the time
to write while you're pregnant.
That'll be good, won't it?
It was yesterday
your fingers stop
the words have been made to fit
standing in front of your computer
you do not look at me
you take off your sweater
your mottled breasts
act as if I weren't there
you slip off your pants
naked
you look your body up and down
you grab the skin of your crotch
tearing it off
the skin comes away
exposing your flesh
your blood your organs
the network of your veins
no skin left on your belly
or your legs
or your arms
or your face
nowhere
save on the floor
you observe the hide
lying on the ground
at last
you raise your eyes
your blood is pumping
through your veins
red and blue
the rhythms of your heart
I see it beating beneath your ribs
in the juddering
of your lungs
and I see
the air moving
the muscles
of your arms
glisten
the fat of your breasts
the vibrations of your intestines
the chattering of your jaw
the rolling of your eyeballs
the creaking of your bones
so much blood
you pick up the skin
you come closer to me
this is not the you I knew
you hold out the skin to me
you say
here
it's yours
and you leave
Subtitling Titra Film Paris
NAO!