The Story of My Life (2004) - full transcript

This girl is telling me her life story

I stopped listening twenty minutes ago.

I don?t think she's noticed. I hope not.

Now and then I say,

Wow! That's incredible.

She hasn't noticed.
Actually, I'm trying to follow the conversation behind me.

After three dates, she still doesn't get it?

It's my fault.

I'm not sending the right signals.

A man over thirty wonders if he is,
and I quote,

"sending the right signals."



How did we get from this...
to this?

Did you kiss her?

She's not ready.

I'll expose my theory on this later,

the girl might notice.

I went to Milan for the Prada show.

Then it was off to the Caribbean
with Helmut Newton.

We'll finish this interview later.

I already know what I'm going to write.

I went to Paris

I had a meeting with Karl Lagerfeld.

Theoretically, a journalist mustn't embellish reality

In my case, embellishing reality is a necessity.

I'm not a journalist.



I'm a ghostwriter.

I write autobiographies for current celebrities.

People who don't always have much to say,
and can?t write.

They talk and I take a few notes.
Then I start embellishing.

They tell me this...

I turn it into this.

They confide this...

I concoct this.

They give me this...

I give them this.

It all started in my teens.

My friends had one-track minds.

Asses.

Breasts.

I was distinctly different,
and didn't mind saying so.

When it came to girls, what I loved were:

Their eyes.

I like a pretty smile too.

My parents found this strange.

Especially my dad, proud of his womanizing past.

He hoped I'd carry on the tradition.

At his age I was no virgin!

Jean-Pierre!

What?

Let's be clear, we don't want him to be a fag!

Jean-Pierre, really!

I was indeed interested in girls.
But my comrades' frontal approach

was ineffective.

I suspected there were other ways.

I figured if I exposed my soul,

the girls would be inspired to expose...
something else.

This approach led to a fulfilling adolescence.

In a certain way, throughout my life,
writing and women have always been linked.

It's wonderful. Thank you.

You captured my essence, my whole story...

Now she'll put her name on the book,

promote it on television

and autograph it for fans who say it changed their life.

My name is nowhere. Which suits me fine.

It's the best story I've ever read.
And it's mine.

I think it sucks.

Thanks a lot.

You're wasting your time, Raphael.
Don't start.

I know: "Anonymity provides artistic integrity."

Very clever.

But I want to know what's behind it.

There's nothing behind it.

This is Muriel.

When she latches on to something, she won't let go.

It started the first time we met.

At first, I wanted this girl.

I spotted her the moment I arrived.

She was tall, beautiful, elegant, mysterious, sexy...

So I did what anyone else would have done...

Nothing.

Good evening.

Like a drink?

I've been watching you for awhile.

Standing there like a wallflower,
waiting for who knows what!

Like a drink?

Well, actually...

Alright.

Usually, I meet them in hotels or bars.

I ask questions, doze off while they answer,

then go home and transcribe everything.

What do you do?

Take a guess.

Are you in a rock band or something?

A punk rock band?

Architect.

Really!

Anything I might have seen?

The Besancon freeway interchange.

I did that.

Oh yeah?

I've never been there, sorry.

What a shame.

What are you doing?

I... thought...

thought...

I liked you?

I do, but so what?

Yeah, so what?

Give me your hand.

I'm swamped until Thursday.
Call me this weekend. Ok?

Ok.

They're merciless these days.

The last one I brought home left right after we did it.

The last one I brought home left right after we did it.

"Sorry to fuck and run, but I've got work to do."

Never saw her again.

So how's work for you?

I've decided to go back to photojournalism.

No more advertising?

I'm not getting anywhere. People treat you like shit.

That's all behind me now.

I'm going to the Ivory Coast.
The photos I'm going to take will open a few eyes.

You gotta move your ass to change the world.

There he is.

Why do you see that asshole?

He's a nice guy.

He'll brag about how much he makes.

You exaggerate.

Oh yeah? We'll see.

Sorry I'm late.

You're a busy man.

Traffic was heavy.

You should take the metro.

Menu, please.

So... How's business?

Not bad, thanks.

I'll have the veal.

Just not bad?

It's going great guns. Can we smoke here?

"Great guns'?

Yeah, great guns.

"Great guns", meaning?

"Great guns" meaning...

Go on,

say it!

Just say it!

What did you make this month?

Go on, you're dying to tell us!

I'm not.

You are.

I'm not!

You are! I'm out of here.

I can't stand dishonesty.

Jeff, don't be a jerk.

Why do you see that psycho?

Meaning?

He's a pain in the ass!

Nah, he's a good guy.

He left without paying.

I was going to treat him.

I'll get it.
I just got a 10,000 euro bonus.

Hello.

I'm hereto see Mr. Storena.

He is still waiting for you.

This is where everything started to go wrong.

In this chic hotel where I naively thought
I was meeting a client like any other.

Thank you.

Hello.

I'm Raphael.

Have a seat.

You're gonna help me write the book?

Right. Let's just say I'm here
to help you find the right words.

Cool.
I've already got a title.

I thought we?d call it: "How to Score"

It's a play on words. Get it?

Because I always score high, both on the field and off! "How to Score"!

You don't seem too enthusiastic.

Sure, fine.

So, how does it usually work?

Who does the first craft?

The first what?

I mean who starts?

Who starts what?

The writing!
Do I write first and you go over it,
or vice-versa?

Didn?t the publisher explain?

I gotta tell you, there's a poet I love.
Baudelaire.

"The Albatross". I totally relate.

I wondered...
Tell me if this is dumb...

I wondered if we could write the book...

How can I put it?
In a style resembling... Baudelaire.

Example:

"My youth was but a tenebrous storm,

"occasionally interrupted by...
...bright suns."

That's it.

Yes.

I thought we'd open like that.

I've been working on it.

"My youth, was like a low, heavy sky

in which there were occasional sunny spells."

Get the idea?

It's not plagiarism.

But when I read...

Baudelaire!

I feel I could've written the same thing.

Except with different words!

Doesn't everyone feel that way?

What?

Sorry.

My mind was elsewhere.

I'll think about it...
We'll be in touch.

Perfect.

You'll need this.

I have it.

I highlighted the best parts.

It'll save you time.

Thank you.

We're gonna be a great team.

Come on, it'll be fine.

It won?t be fine. It feels wrong.

You said that about the boxer.

This is different. It feels really wrong.

Listen Raphael, this is Kevin Storena. Captain of France?s football team!

We'll make a killing. So please, make an effort.

You know what I always say: "Think of the check."

Hello?

I can't hear you.

Hello?

Hang on.

Two seconds.

Hello...

It's Raphael.

I hope I'm not bothering you.

I was wondering if you?d like to have dinner.

Tonight.
With me.

Yeah, sure.

I hate first dates.

You're supposed to get to know each other.

Except we present idealized versions of ourselves,

with no basis in reality.

There's only one way to instantly know
who you're dealing with.

The supermarket test.

Take this woman.

Her appearance reveals nothing.

Her groceries are another story.
We find out she's married...

Not very happy...
And contemplating an affair.

It's the simplest way to find out

this apparently well-adjusted woman

is in fact a terminally single neat freak.

Or this dapper young man is a serial killer.

I dread this date.

It's going to be an exercise in hypocrisy.

Hi.

Want to go straight to your place?

Yeah.

I'm hungry.

I'd like to go eat now.

Raphael?

Yes?

Let's make a pact, ok?

Ok.

If you get sick of me one day,
don't waste time.

Just say "Muriel, it's over."

I promise I won't ask questions,
I won't freak out, I won't cry.

Ok?

Ok.

What's the matter?

I'm guessing you've never been in love.

I have.

Did it end so clean?

No

He left and I tried to kill myself.

I got to know Muriel, and appreciate her numerous qualities. Like her
honesty...

That's a stupid joke.

Yeah,

she's right.

And her rare faults, like...
her honesty.

What do you expect, Corinne?

You bitch and moan constantly

and you're overweight.

No wonder he left.

Then there's the sex, which is fabulous.

I have to admit,

Muriel truly inspires me.

I have no theories on love.

But I have a strong theory
on the origin of love.

Or how we got from purely reproductive,
sexual relations

to our current neurosis over love.

I'm listening.

Ok.

I'm convinced love is a joke

that got out of hand.

A monstrous hoax
that escaped from its creator.

It probably started

in the late 11th century,
at the height of the Middle Ages.

Night, fog...
Crows stalk their prey.

King Claudius seizes a hatchet
and begins hacking the enemy.

An arm spurts blood...

The public got sick of hearing

the same old war stories.

So the king said to the troubadour,

"Make up something new. Surprise us."

The poor sod thought hard.
He tried stories about witches,
monsters, fairies...

The king always had the same response.

I want stories

about men and women.

Normal people
who get into extraordinary situations.

Normal people?

So the troubadour did what writers do
when they're blocked.

He improvised.

He started telling wild stories

about a strange, mysterious malady
that changed people's behavior.

He called this phenomenon "love".

As dawn turned to day he saw her,

scampering through the fresh blue watercress.

And lo!
The sight of such unfettered beauty

filled him with a ripe desire
to offer her flowers.

The entire moonlit night he spent

reciting poems to her.

Poems, my good King!
These stories left the court
deeply perplexed.

Poems?

One night,
while seeking slumber
in the arms of a mistress,

the king asked himself
the crucial question:

Could it be true?

Everyone began to believe in love

and imagine...

that they too could find it.

That's how we got where we are today.

It's strange.

What's strange?

You've never considered writing
your own book?

Actually I wrote one.

Really?

Yeah.

I'd like to read it.

That's impossible.

Why?

It wasn't published.

It's pretentious, complacent and narcissistic.
I spared the public. That's why.

I'd still like to read it.

No.

Let me read it.

Give it back.

Just one page.

The title is promising.

Why do you want to read it so bad?

Because you won't let me.

Let go!

You're being ridiculous.

Get back!

No.

But I follow you.

Shit! You damaged it!

Why can't I read it?
What are you afraid of?

Answer me!

This is no good.

"Your manuscript did not
generate enthusiasm..." I need more.

I worked hard.

I think I deserve
a more detailed response.

Ok,

I'll tell you what I think.

Sit down.

Your style is plodding, clumsy.

The subject matter is superficial,

complacent and incredibly narcissistic.

It's totally devoid of profundity, maturity,

or audacity. Utterly unoriginal.

It's like the bulk
of what I've read lately,

but worse.

That?s it.

But...

Aside from those minor points,
did you like it?

Players are either show-offs

or hard workers.

Show-offs have innate... talent.

talent.

Even as kids, you can tell they'll be stars.

The problem is, they're lazy.

They rest on their laurels.
One day, they come crashing down.

Their self-confidence is shot to hell.

Hard workers climb the ladder rung by rung.

We earn it, no one can take it away.

Our foundations are solid.

It's the same with writing, right?

Probably.

I'm glad you can admit to that.

I read your book about the top model.

I found the style pretentious.

Like Ginola!

Just kidding.

Know what your problem is?
Your sentences are too long.

In well-written books,
the sentences are short.

I want short sentences in mine.

Isn't that contradictory?

How so?

Baudelaire didn?t write short sentences.

Fuck Baudelaire. I want short sentences.

I can't do it, it's ruining my health.

I'm allergic to him. So please,

So please, relieve me of this job
and hire someone else!

Shall I get down on my knees?

I'm on my knees before you.

I kiss your hands, I kiss your feet,

I kiss your feet,

please hire someone else.

I'm impressed.

No one's ever gone this far
for more money.

I'm...

very impressed.

No...

need to insist.
I'll give you 5,000 more,

but you?d better make the deadline.

I'm 32. I'm a human resources director.

I've got a spacious apartment with a balcony and I drive an Audi A3.

I love the opera and weekends abroad.

I hate hairy chests and dirty nails,

and I don't do blowjobs.

Ok.

I'm 37. I'm a stock broker,
but I have a wide variety of interests.

I love the theater, and...

Are the blowjobs negotiable?

Hello!

I'm 31. I market pharmaceuticals.

I'm a non-practicing catholic,
Scorpio, Aries rising.

I play tennis, skate, and target shoot.

I don't drink or smoke. I tolerate children
but hate animals.

How many do you meet each time?

Seven.

That's why it's called speed dating.

How awful.

It's practical. Saves time.
No bullshit.

Have you scored yet?

That's not the point.

Really? Then what is the point?

To form the richest possible couple?

Is living with Mom and Dad
more attractive?

Call me corny,

but I still consider cynicism a flaw.

Stop playing the moralist.

You're living in a dream.

It'll hurt when you wake up.

I'd rather die than be like you.

So die!

Asshole.

Loser.

Schmuck.

Ok, fuck off.

You fuck off.

Shut up.

Check, please!

Has Kevin found love?

The woman in the photo is Claire.

I met her at college.

I knew instantly

she was the woman of my life.

I could no longer rely on
well-turned phrases.

So I summoned up my courage
and invited her

to a wedding in Fontainebleau.

And she said:

What kind of car do you drive?

A Renault 25.

Turbo!

After three hours of begging,
my dad finally loaned me...

his brand new Renault25.

It was tonight or never.

I had carefully planned my approach.

Unfortunately,

we never got there.

Oh shit!

Are you alright?

My dad'll kill me,

what am I gonna do?

What am...

I gonna do?

Stop it!

What did we hit?

This is a not a good idea, Raphael.

Not a good idea.

Not a good idea.

Stop saying that!

We have no choice.

If I don't bring it back,
he won't believe I hit a boar.

He'll think I was drunk and hit a tree.

Are you okay?

Sorry to put you through this.

I'm fine.

Are you sure?

I'm fine!

What the hell are you doing?

Sorry.

I'd have reacted the same way

if I were you.

I think the fact that we nearly died

caused some kind of chemical reaction in me.

My survival instinct
propelled me toward you.

I hope we're still friends.

If it happens again,
perhaps we'll react differently.

What's that noise?

What noise?

There's a weird noise.

Got any more brilliant ideas?

After this incident,
Claire was somewhat more distant.

Actually, I never saw her again.

I wasn't happy to see her
in this guy's arms,

but I really wanted to see her again.

We've completely neglected

your private life.
Your relationships with women.

I thought the subject was my career.

Right, but it's a shame.

The public will want to know
the man behind the athlete.

Good point.

When it comes to women,
I'm a pretty private guy.

Just tell me what you want.

I'll begin at the beginning.

I boned my first girl at summer camp.

During a game of hide-and-seek.
The deal was,

The deal was, the girl who
looked for me obviously liked me.

She found me!

While I was with Katia,
I was also dating,

I mean sleeping with...

I enter the locker room and bam!

Three total knockouts!

She had an odor.

I don't like redheads.

Kevin, Kevin, Kevin!

I'm not made of marble.
I had no option.

I was a bit rough.

I think that was the only time
I had three at once...

Wait! No, that was it.
The only time.

Barely two minutes in my Porsche

and she's unzipping my pants
and sucking away!

At first I was into it, naturally,

but then I remembered Sasha Distel
and pulled over.

Ever been to Bangkok?

No

The girls there have numbers!

I figured I'd take number 16,
since that's my number.

But then it hit me:

"lf I take numbers 1 and 6
I get two ladies!"

Wild! That's Bangkok for you.

That pretty much sums it up.

Anyone special in your life now?

Yeah.
I'd rather not talk about it.

Why not? Nothing serious?

Quite the contrary.

I even did a magazine cover with her.

No.

That upset her,
so I promised to stop talking about us.

Ok, I understand.

All I can say is, I'm totally in love.

She's classy, intellectual and all.

But not uptight.
In the sack she's one hot mama.

I think she gets off on my animal side.

Know what turns her on the most?

No.

My ass.

She loves my ass.

Football gives you a great ass.

Its not the same.

What about the Ivory Coast?

Forget it.

The plane tickets are too expensive.

What?

Why do we keep lying to ourselves?

Lying to ourselves?

What do you mean?

You know damn well
you'll never be a photojournalist,

and I'll never write under my own name.

I'm a loser,

so are you. And that's ok.

I don't know what you mean.

You don't?

No.

This is ridiculous, Raphael.

Completely...

ridiculous.

Abidjan, please.

We'll never make it.

Take your bag. Here's your ticket.

You've got your camera.
The plane leaves in 10 minutes.

What's wrong?

It's the rainy season there right now.

It is like...

Not that it matters.

I'm off.

I mean...

Okay, I off.

Time to go.

Are there five minutes left?

I'll send you a postcard.

I hope I have a good seat,
it's a long flight.

I'd better run.

I'm the last one.

Ok,

We will see us.

I'm going.

Bye.

Go on, wise guy.

I give you five minutes.

What you did is wonderful.

Think so?

Yes.

It was the best thing
you could do for him.

I just made him face his contradictions.

Don't minimize it.

He couldn't take the bull by the horns,

so you helped him.
You were there for him.

I guess you could say that.

Like I want to be there for you.

What's the connection?

Can't I read your book?

Unbelievable!

I've never met anyone so stubborn.

I need to understand.

Understand what?

Why you write for others.

Why you're squandering your talent.

I'm sorry,

but your job isn't making you happy.

I want you to be happy.

I'm extremely happy, ok?

I love you as you are,

I don?t want to change you.

Bullshit!

You want me to be like you.

I may be a pain in the ass
with a million faults,

but I am what I am
and I will not change!

As if things
weren't bad enough already...

they got worse.

It happened in the stupidest way.

At the Abidjan airport,
Jeff took a beat-up taxi.

The brakes failed,

and 200 meters later
it slammed into a truck.

He'd spent less than an hour
in the Ivory Coast,

half of it waiting for his luggage.

I don't get it.

I don't get it.

Why the hell did he go there?

What got into him?

You don't just fly off
to a country like that.

Unless you're nuts!

Something compelled him to go.

What compelled him?

I did.

What?

I don't believe it.

Tell me it's not true.

It seemed like the right thing to do.

He was vegetating here.

Sorry.

I told you not to encourage
his silly dreams!

No.

Not having dreams is a terrible thing.

Being dead is a terrible thing.

Stop pretending to be an artist.

Accept what you are.

You're just like me.

I'm not a cool guy, I'm an asshole.

I love making money,

fuck anyone who doesn't like it.

Take what they give you and be grateful.

It's your fault he's dead.

Do you hear me?

Shut up now.

Is everything ok?

We're fine.

Thanks for being there for him.

I know you were great friends.

Hello?

Did I wake you?

No.

Ok.

What is it?

I was just thinking

if you still wanted
to read my novel,

it's in my office somewhere.

Right hand drawer,

a black folder.

Ok.

Can I read it right away?

Sure,

if you want.

Ok.

Love you.

Are you ok?

Raphael.

Claire?

You've got a real problem with cars.

Here you go.

There's really no need.

My car's fine.

Well, just in case.

Did you include your number?

I've got to be going.

Kevin's waiting?

How did you know?

You saw the pictures!

They're everywhere.

It was Kevin's idea.

Pretty dorky, huh?

No, they're not dorky,

they're...

Do they pay you for that?

50,000 euros.

Okay.

But Kevin gets the money.

People don't buy the magazine for me.

I did.

I see.

I've got to be going.

The article said he's writing a book.

I know what you're thinking:
"A ball player's memoir, how lame."

That's what I thought too.

But I read the first pages,

and it's great.

He's no dummy.
No dummy.

I'm off.

See you around.

See you.

Bye.

Don't look at me like that.

I need you to explain it to me.

If you were in the wrong,

why did the other car leave?

How do I know?

They were probably wanted by the cops
or something.

They got scared and took off.

Seriously!

No, not.

Come on, let's enjoy our coffee,

I'm sorry about your car,
I'll pay you back.

The whole thing is...

just so bizarre.

I know, it's bizarre.
Lots of things are bizarre.

Aren't you wondering
if I liked your novel?

You read it?

Yes.

Don't try to tell me it's good.

I know it's bad.

For once we agree.

It's awful.

Well, not awful. But not good.

What do you mean?

Don't get upset.

I'm not upset...

Check, please!

Let me tell you why it's no good.

It lacks sincerity.

You write beautifully,

but you hide behind your technique.

I want to know what you really think.

And I don?t just mean the book.

We've been together ten months.

You never tell me anything personal.

I don't know...

who you are.

Nobody does.

You tell other people's stories.

But if I add up what I know about you,
it doesn't amount to much.

Write another one.

So you can tell me it's no good?

Isn't it a bit pretentious
to stop writing

because your first book
isn't a masterpiece?

Write another one.

Know what? You piss me off.

Still working?

Will you stop spying on me?

I'm not spying on you.

Just wondering why you're up so late.

Is it the ball player?

Get off my back!

You're so touchy these days.

I'm not touchy, I'm working!

Damn it!

I was sure, it is him.

I said "Michel?"

and he turned around,

but it was someone else.

I was so embarrassed.

You know when you think you recognize
someone,

but it's not them?

I think he's a doctor now.

And you're a financial analyst?

Not a journalist after all?

No.

Not even a little bit?

You can tell me if you are.

Are you a journalist on the sly?

What do you want?

You didn't ask me here
to go over my resume.

No. Actually, l...

I won't beat around the bush.

And?

I need a favor.

A favor?

A few years ago I wrote a novel.

You want me to read it.

No!

It's awful.

I mean, it's no good.

It lacks sincerity.

And?

I don't want you to read that one.
I want you to read this one.

I thought it was a bit pretentious

to quit because the first one
wasn't a masterpiece.

How mature of you.

Why me?

You're the only person I know

who is critical and sincere enough
to give me an honest opinion.

That's a relief.

Why?

I thought you wanted...

To hit on you?

Yeah.

You thought l... Right!

Like some kind of obsessed wacko!

Exactly.

How funny!

Talking to your girlfriend reassured me.

My girlfriend?

Yeah.

Muriel, right?
She called about the insurance.

Right, the insurance.

She seems nice.

She is.

She's great.

Hello.

Hello.

What?

Can you sew?

No, but...

Then shut up.

I'm...

going to work.

Ok, I lied to you.

Jeff's death upset me,

I was drunk,
I ran into an old friend's car,

and she just happens
to be dating my client.

I don't know why I couldn't tell you.
I know it's not complicated.

I don't want you to get the wrong idea.

She's just a vague acquaintance
from school.

I forgot she even existed. Ok?

Okay.

Good.

I regret to inform you
that my feelings have changed.

My heart is elsewhere.

May I ask...

No.

Allow me to remind you of our agreement,
which I trust you will honor.

But of course.

Another cup of tea?

I'm talking to you!

Want some tea?

Want some tea?

No thanks.

Got something to tell me?

No.

I read the latest version. Not bad.

I changed a few things.

Like what?

There were a lot of spelling errors,

but never mind.

The problem is you always use
the same style.

I want each chapter to be different.

To make the book richer, more...

Don't you think that would be weird?

Know what? There are no rules.

But it has to be coherent.

I say there are no rules.

But there are.

No.

Alright.

That's the spirit!

I'm 33, I work in petrochemicals
and I'm a vegetarian.

I like all music except rap, zouk, salsa,
techno, jazz, funk and reggae.

I'll live with a man if I don't have to cook
and I can have my own bathroom.

I have a million euros in the bank.

Tell him I'll call him in two minutes.

Fax it to him in the meantime.

I'll be right there.

See you later.

Hi.

You've got two minutes, 30 seconds.

Did you read it?

Yeah.

And?

It's pretty good.

Ok, thanks, pretty good...And?

And?

I don't know what else to add.

It's pretty good.

That sums up what I think.

In college you?d spend hours
dissecting a book!

You only gave me the beginning.

It's a hundred pages!

How does it compare
to your boyfriend's book?

That's totally different.

You two are diametrically opposed.

Kevin is humble,
his style is somewhat clumsy,

his style is somewhat clumsy,

but he tells fascinating stories.

You, on the other hand,
are an experienced writer,

but ultimately your story is just...

pretty good.

Maybe you haven't lived enough.

Bye!

I hope that helps.

Tell Muriel we're on for dinner.

Dinner?

She was nice on the phone
so I invited her to dinner.

You said she was a good friend.

No, I said a vague acquaintance.

Is she pretty?

I guess one could say that.

I hope you didn't invite her boyfriend?

Sure I did. It'll be funny

to have Kevin Storena over.

Use your brain!

She doesn't know I'm writing his book!

I've been sworn to confidentiality.

He could sue me over this.

I'll be careful.

So you're the cool writer friend?

Yeah.
Sorry about this.

Couldn't you cancel or something?

No, no, no...

This dinner is a lifesaver.

It gets me out of a boring art opening.

But I don't know you, ok?

Of course. You can count on me.

What about your broad?

She knows it's confidential.

She'd better.
If Claire finds out, you're dead.

Bye.

Can we get started now?

Yeah, cool your jets.

Let's go!

Where's one of those cards?

Right here.

To your positions!

Great.

MasterCard,

take one.

Action!

Some things can't be bought.

For everything else, MasterCard.

Football's great, but ultimately,

you want to leave something behind.

Books are ideal for that, right?

As you well know.

The books I write aren't very...

What?

Personal.

I told you, Kevin.
Raphael writes for others.

Really? Your name isn't on the books?

No.

So nothing proves you wrote them.

When I play, nobody can replace me.

I really want Raphael to write a novel
under his own name.

Yeah, you should do that.

Take the plunge, man.
We learn by doing. You have to make it happen.

Thanks for the advice.

Listen to what he's telling you.

When Kevin gets an idea,
there's no stopping him.

There is some luck involved.

Raphael's problem is
he's afraid to expose himself.

He obsesses about everything,
he's afraid of failure.

Right, right.

It's a mystery how he meets anyone.

A real mystery.

How did you two meet?

Yeah, good question.

Didn?t you tell her?

No,

he was pretty evasive.

How do you mean that?

There's nothing to tell,
we were friends at college.

You forget the boar.

The boar?

Didn't I ever tell you
about the boar?

No.

Let me tell it.

Raphael invited motto a marriage.
In Fontainebleau, right?

I didn't know him,

but I thought it was nice, so I accepted.

After an hour we were almost there,

we were in the forest.

It was dark, we were alone.

All of a sudden...
-A boar!

A boar?

We ran into a boar!

Weren't you watching the road?

I guess not.

You must've been terrified.

I was fine,
but Raphael really started to...

Anyway, the thing is,
we put the boar in the trunk,

but it wasn?t dead.
It destroyed the car.

That's it.

That's not all!

You're embarrassed?

Not at all.

Why would I be?

You are!
Here's what really happened,

in between, before the boar woke up.
Raphael tried to kiss me.

I see.

No, it was really sweet!
At first I was shocked,
the timing was so unusual.

Unusual is not the word I'd use.

But then he launched
into this endless explanation.

His awkwardness was touching.

He was already like that?

I thought I was the first.

If the boar hadn't woken up just then,

I would have succumbed.

Shit!

You'd never think it,
to look at his little mug.

Kevin!

Never mind.

Enough about me.

Let's talk about you.

What's your book called?

"How to Score", why?

"How to Score"?

Good title.

It's a play on words, isn't it?

A play on words!

"How to Score", good one!

I like it.
It's clear, direct, frank, honest.

Not insidious, sneaky...

We get it.

And it's catchy!

Are you sure?

You'll finally make some money.

What's so funny?

You're not exactly hurting financially.

Are you referring to the photos?

Not at all, it's just a remark.

I told you I'd give you half!

Must you always bring it up?

Please Kevin, stop it.

Help yourself!

Stop being ridiculous.

Stop nagging me about it!

You seem vaguely unfamiliar
with the word vague.

For a vague acquaintance,
you seem quite close.

I get the vague impression
I've been lied to.

Careful, Raphael. Cowardice is the most common flaw in men, after
mediocrity.

Having both at once is pretty dire.

How are you, big fella?

Find it ok?

No problem.

Are you feeling better?

Find it ok?

A week after our argument, Max lost it.

Shut up!

Now he's on tranquilizers 24/7.

Find it ok?

Ole... Ole-ole...

Thanks for coming.

Your message sounded urgent.

Problem with the book?

This isn't about the book.

It's about Claire.

We need to talk. In private.

Man to man.

Get in.

Open it.

Go on, open it!

Hang on...

There must be another way to settle this.

No, not that.

So, what do you think?

If you think a little generosity can erase bad behavior, you're sadly mistaken.

Excuse me?

You were vile the other night.

If I were Claire, I wouldn?t forgive you.

Are you kidding?

She was so turned on, we fucked like rabbits!

The kitchen, the bedroom, back to the kitchen...

Wake up, pal!

A girl like her needs a real man.

Sometimes brutal,
sometimes romantic, get it?

Anyhow, back to the point.

Listen, at the moment,
Claire's in Deauville for a seminar.

I'm gonna show up in a 4-wheel drive,

blindfold her and whisk her away.

When the blindfold comes off,
we're on a deserted beach.

I've got a fancy picnic
with a tablecloth and cutlery.

I take out some good champagne
and declare my love, like in the movies.

Then...

I ask her to be my wife.

What I want to tell her is,

I know my lame jokes bore her.

I flirt with other girls
in front of her.

I'm rude, I never listen, but...

I love her like crazy.

Why are you telling me this?

I need you to write it.

You know, like Serano de Montignac.

Can?t you see the traffic pattern?

Yes.

Then what's this mess?

Excuse me.

It's over. That's it.

Ok.

Hello?

It's your lunch break now, right?

Yes. Who is this?

Meet me outside.

What are you doing?

Whisking you away.

Away? Where?

Surprise.

If I'm not back by two,
all hell will break loose.

Not to worry.
Everything's under control.

Not bad, huh?

I have something important to tell you.

It isn't easy for me, but I must.

I'm the one who's writing Kevin's book.
I'm sorry.

I know that.

He told me the other night.

What do you want?

He can't help it, he's an honest guy.

I consider you a friend,

and you don't seem very happy.
I'm sorry, but it's obvious.

The way he treats you...

It's not that bad.

He bores you with his lame jokes,

flirts with other girls, never listens...

Is that the way

a man in love would behave?

I'm sorry.

Everything's coming out wrong.
This is awkward because...

I feel so close to you.

I just want you to be happy.

I'm soaked!

What the hell...

Maybe we?d better go.

No kidding.

Hang on...

I think I lost the keys.

You're joking?

No.

My computer's in this car.

What do we do now?

Hello!

Hello! Hello!

We're stranded!

Help!

Help!

Help!

Please help us!

Get a load of those idiots!

Room 311, please.

Claire...

Get lost!

Thanks a lot.

Claire...

Claire...

Thanks.
Couldn't we laugh about this?

It'll never work between us, ok?

Why not?

I'm not into little boys.
Or teenagers for that matter.

Real men are what turn me on.

You don't have the stuff.

I know it hurts, but too bad.

Now be a good boy, and leave me alone.

Come on!

Fuck you.

Fuck you, Kevin!

I'm not your property.

Do you understand?

Listen Kevin, it's simple.

I spent the day with someone
more subtle than you.

I wanted him. That's all.

I will not tell you who it is.

No.

Ok, it's Raphael. Happy now?

Sure, come kick his ass.

Of course, if it makes you happy.

He's waiting for you.

Kevin, stop it, you're being pathetic.

Good.

I'm going for a walk.

Ever considered surgery?

Your snoring...

No one ever told you?

Strange.

This is Claire.
Leave a message.

This is Claire.
Leave a message.

Claire, it's Raphael.

You were right,
it'll never work between us.

Let's just leave it at that.

We'll keep in touch.

I feel better. Were you leaving?

No.

Excuse me.

Claire, it's Raphael.

You were right,
it'll never work between us.

Let's just leave it at that.

We'll keep in touch.

What'd you think?
We'd spend our lives together?

You're not too bright.

Jeff was right.

Making money for money's sake
is absurd.

It should serve a purpose.

Look at this.

I'm getting married, pal.

This woman needs me.

These children need me.
I want people to need me.

Next week I'm off to Hanoi to meet...
Li.

If we get along,
I'll marry her and adopt the kids.

You don't look so good.

Yes?

Muriel, it's me. Can I talk to you?

I'm listening.

Not on the intercom, it's absurd.

I'm listening.

Alright.

When I was little I had trouble sleeping.

I was convinced that while I was asleep,
an ogre would devour me.

The one thing that made it easier to sleep
was having a friend stay the night.

Not because I thought he'd protect me,

but because I secretly hoped

that the ogre would eat my friend first,

Leaving me time to get away.

There you have it.
I wanted to tell you something personal

that I'd never told anyone before.

That's all I came up with.

It's too late, Raphael.

I know.

"How to Score"... Remember?

I seriously considered firing you.

When a client like Kevin
breaks contract because the author
slept with his girl, it's bad.

Anyway.
I guess after ten years of loyal service,

you're allowed

to lose your mind once.
But just once.

Next week you're meeting a rap singer.

No.

Excuse me?

No.

No more autobiographies.

Did Michaud make you an offer?

I'll raise it.

No, I've quit being a ghostwriter.
I'm going to write my own novel.

Who'll publish it?

You.

A philosopher said, "Taking action is easy,
deciding to take action is hard."

Guess he never tried to write a book.

All those years as a ghostwriter
had turned me into a machine.

A well-oiled, soulless machine.

That's when I realized
how much I needed her.

Her mischievous eyes, knowing smile,
impassioned tirades...

All those treasures
I hadn't properly appreciated.

This is Muriel. Leave a message.
I called her. In vain.

I wrote her. She never wrote back.

All my attempts failed.
Even the most extreme.

Forgive me, Muriel.
I'd thrown it all away.

Once she hated me enough,
she'd forget me, then replace me.

And just like with my job,
someone else would get the spoils.

So I thought about her high standards,
her intelligence

and the ambition she tried to
communicate to me, then got to work.

It stinks.

I had to learn to write again, forget
the technique I used like a crutch.

I had to do it over and over again.

Even in the worst moments,
I was spared nothing.

Ease and facility were gone, replaced
by effort, fatigue and exhaustion...

What crap!

Pain and rage, vertigo and agony.
I persevered.

I fought to the last letter
of the last word in the last sentence.

And one day, finally...

Give me a hug.

If we don't win the Goncourt,
they're idiots.

We didn't win.

And despite enthusiastic reviews,
my book release was overshadowed

by another literary event.
HOW TO SCORE - 500,000 copies sold.

It's great,
you're finally doing what you love.

Pop the champagne!

I don?t feel like it.

What's on your mind?

Jeff. I wish he were here.
If Jeff were here, he'd be annoying us.

If Jeff were here, he'd be annoying us.

He's fine where he is.
Let's toast!

I don't feel like it, thanks.

How about you?
How's everything going?

I couldn't be happier.

Now you can relax.

What do you mean?

You can slow down now.

Hardly!

Do you know what it costs
to raise six kids?

I need to earn a maximum.

Those kids are smart,

and Harvard's expensive.

Right, my little geniuses?
I'm not done toiling yet.

Shit!

What?

Don't turn around.

What?

What is it?

Who is it?

Shit.

Hi there.

Oh, hello.

Congratulations on the book.

Congratulations to you.

No, to you.

We both read it. It's very good.

Very good, really.

It's sincere, simple,

touching, funny...

I was so moved by the way
the hero throws his entire life away

in pursuit of a fantasy.

Yeah, right.

Thank you.

We're off. Congratulations again.

Let's go.

Call me!

I think...

I'll have some champagne

after all.

Yes?

Muriel, I want to have your baby.

I think my water just broke.

You could've told me sooner!

I didn't know how you'd react.

How I'd react? I'm reacting, look!

I can raise this child on my own.

Watch out for that car!
Sorry.

Go on, push!

No, wait!

This is all so sudden,
can't we discuss it?

Push, Madam!

Take your time, think about it.

Push, push!

Stay out of this!
Stop making her push!

Is this the right time?
Shouldn?t we wait awhile?

We're almost there!

I don?t feel well.
I need to lie down.

What's the matter?

Let's figure this out.
We'll take a walk,

get some coffee, talk it over.

I don?t feel well at all!

He's coming, one last effort.

If it's a girl we'll take it,
but if it's a boy...

It's a boy.

Got a name?

You decide.

Jean-Claude.

Jean-Claude is nice.

Come see Daddy.

I'll let you two get to know each other.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Afraid I'll take off and abandon you?
Afraid I'll flake out again?

I don?t want you to worry.

I'm not perfect,
but I'll always be there for you.

I'll teach you the stuff dads
teach their kids.

How to juggle, how to walk and dance,

how to act silly, tell jokes, read books
with one hand and telephone with the other.

Plus I'll teach you serious stuff.

Like speaking your mind,

making choices, keeping promises,

earning a living...

What do you want to be?

Have you thought about it?
Not sure yet? Take your time.

Know what Daddy does?

He's a writer.