Tu te souviendras de moi (2020) - full transcript

You Will Remember Me

Based on the play by

François Archambault

I have an excellent memory.

Especially for dates.

I've a phenomenal memory for dates.

Wars, mostly.

I can recite Homer's finest passages,

or how Cortés deceived Montezuma

so he could pillage Mexico City.

Like I said, war.

Or recount in detail my first day

as a university professor.

He remembers it

because he's told it so often.

I was 29.

A kid, naive...

Idealistic.

It was a university,

but my lectures

would not be impersonal.

So I decided I would memorize

the names of my 45 students

from day one.

- He couldn't do that now.

Alain Dubois.

Snub nose.

George Grenier.

Disheveled hair.

Julie Berthiaume.

Glorious bosom.

My husband can't resist a glorious bosom.

So I jotted down the names,

the classroom filled up,

and just as I was about

to begin lecturing...

What are you doing?

I'm giving my class.

No, you're not.

I was in the wrong classroom.

It wasn't history, but mathematics.

Now believe it or not,

I never saw those students again

but I still remember their names and faces.

Snub nose: Alain Dubois.

Disheveled hair: Georges Grenier.

Glorious bosom:

Julie Berthiaume.

He says that, but how can we know?

We weren't there!

I swear, those are their names.

My memory's great.

His memory's great,

but he can't say what he did yesterday,

or even today.

What did you have for breakfast?

Cereal, no doubt, like every morning.

What kind?

- Madeleine!

Who gives a shit about my cereal?

He can't answer.

I don't have to answer.

It's always the same.

I bring in the morning paper, have a pee...

Fascinating, right?

Not today.

- My god!

You forgot to eat your cereal

this morning.

I forgot to eat my cereal.

Stop the presses!

How is it I'm still standing?

I hope my underwear is clean.

Want to go into all that?

- Yes!

OK! Fine.

We'll go into it.

Like I said, I read the paper.

It's all a blank now.

To be honest, it's no huge loss.

This era is an intellectual wasteland.

People think only of their feelings.

I love, I adore, I buzz, I tweet.

If you don't have a website or blog,

if you're not on Facebook or YouTube,

you don't exist!

The virtual world

is usurping the material world.

I don't say this lightly.

We are witnessing the disintegration

of the world. Truly!

And to come back to my illness...

I don't know.

Maybe my brain, in response to human

stupidity, has chosen to shut down.

And so I forget things.

Mr Beauchemin?

- Yes?

Would you sign it?

- Certainly!

Ah, My History, Your History.

Did you read it?

No, it's for my father.

Robert Thériault. You worked together.

Oh right. Sure, Robert. Of course.

Thank you, Ms Beauchemin.

We didn't have time to discuss

how it affects daily life.

No, no. It was very good.

Honestly, we got all we need.

Excuse me?

Will we be starting soon?

Mom?

He's yours. I can't take it.

But Mom!

It's enough.

Hello, Mrs Beauchemin.

Isabelle?

What are you doing here?

Give me the weekend.

I need a break.

You could've warned me!

Well, if you ever called.

It might not be such a surprise.

Isabelle does all she can.

I know!

- It's impossible.

I'm about to leave

to go cover the flooding.

Now. I can't take it.

That started long before my illness.

You're fed up with me too!

And if I were sick,

would you be looking after me?

You'd nestle into a glorious bosom!

If I'd accepted all the advances I got,

I'd have a harem

looking after me.

Go for it! Call your little co-eds,

see if they want a senile old fart.

Mom!

- We're done!

Afraid I'll kill you?

I should've done it long ago.

Dad's right here.

In five minutes,

he won't remember a thing.

Mom!

I'm not staying alone with her.

I'll ask my boss for time off.

I'll take Dad next week, OK?

I can't wait.

I may not be here then.

What do you mean?

I'll look after him.

I'll look after him.

Good idea.

You'd do that?

Why not?

Who is he, again?

A change of clothes, pajamas...

This is the schedule for his meds.

It'll be fine.

- Don't leave him alone!

That's OK, I won't have to go out.

Isabelle, where's that book I gave you,

Laurentian Flora?

I don't know.

- I'll look.

What flora?

- Laurentian.

A classic. You should read it.

He's nice.

Hold on to him.

You liked Michel too, remember?

Here it is!

A seminal work in the history of Québec.

- Really?

Do you like botany, Michel?

- It's Patrick.

We've met a few times.

Michel's her ex.

I love it when you do that.

I didn't mean the things I said.

That's alright.

I'm sorry.

I'm just tired.

It's fine.

What was it you said?

Nothing.

Just that I won't forget you.

Call if you need me.

Bye, Dad.

Oh, right.

You're dating.

Is it just me or is it chilly?

It is getting colder.

Look over there.

Plants of the same species

tend to group together.

Ecosystems aren't my specialty, but...

when I see that, I think of humankind.

When I take the plane, I'm always...

How to put it?

Gobsmacked!

You're at the window,

you see city lights...

how cities are laid out, the suburbs,

roads, cars on highways...

I'm gobsmacked!

From the sky,

humanity seems to be a success.

No!

But look inside and you're struck

by our ugliness and stupidity.

What're they called again?

- What?

Those tall reeds.

They're all along highways.

Jeez!

What're they...

Phragmites communis.

Right, Phragmites communis.

You wrote that down?

It's a veritable epidemic.

They're destroying the diversity

of our wildflowers.

Just like mass culture. The US, China...

A bulldozer crushing everything in its path.

It's awful.

What's your line of work...

C'mon!

Patrick?

I'm a cosmonaut.

You're pulling my leg.

You've asked me ten times,

so I vary my answers.

A cosmonaut. That's funny, I admit.

What was Isabelle like as a girl?

She's secretive about her childhood.

Even her ex, Michel...

She never talks about him.

Was she a happy child?

What year is this?

What year?

Yeah.

How old is Isabelle?

43.

43?

My god!

You OK?

Yeah, I'm just a bit tired.

I'd like to see Madeleine.

Well, it's just...

You see, Madeleine's gone.

Gone? Gone for good?

No, don't worry. She'll be back.

Not tomorrow, but the day after.

Yes? OK, the day after.

Are you OK?

- Where are we?

How about we go warm up inside?

Local residents look on helplessly

at the destruction wreaked by nature.

Torrential rain and violent gales

have damaged buildings

and washed away sections of Highway

132. - You see?

Because of global warming,

glaciers melt,

and atmospheric moisture rises.

Which, strangely, results in colder air.

We must have about

four feet of water in the basement.

The worst part is, rain is forecast

for the next three days.

There's no end in sight!

All their tears leave me cold.

I feel like saying, ‟Go on, cry!

Cry your eyes out.

As if there's not enough water!”

You should cover politics,

not natural disasters.

Did Mom call to ask how he is?

Don't worry, he's fine.

Mr Beauchemin?

Here.

- I miss you.

I have to take these?

- Yes.

Do you miss me?

With all your dad's stories,

there's no time.

You dummy.

Go to bed. You sound beat.

I love you.

Me too.

Bye.

Tell her to warn people

to protect their photo albums.

Same thing for notebooks.

They need to put them high on shelves.

One day people will want

to see those pictures.

What do you mean, you can't come?

It's complicated.

I'll explain some time.

We have box seats.

Trépanier's coming.

Trépanier?

The CEO of...

Yeah, and he's hiring reps.

It's a perfect chance

for you to meet him.

So? What do I do?

OK, hold on.

I'll try to arrange something.

Ever had this cereal, Michel?

Delicious.

Don't move.

I'll be back in 5 minutes.

Here, read this.

Laurentian Flora! A great book.

Been to the Botanical Gardens?

Great book.

Bérénice!

Bérénice, please. Open up.

I'm not interested!

- Bérénice, Christ!

OK, look.

I'd prefer you did it for free.

You could do me a favor.

But I'll pay you, if you insist.

I'll get dressed.

Your roomie's not here?

- No, she took off.

Final Notice

How come?

We had a fight.

She's an asswipe.

I've been too busy to shop.

Shall we go?

You can't screw up. The guy's famous.

He's like a child.

It's simple. Don't leave him alone.

Got that?

Yeah, yeah.

Bye, sir. I'm leaving you

with my daughter, OK?

Sure, no problem.

A few hours, tops.

What's going on? He left?

I'll stay here.

Everything will be fine, OK?

...the dematerialization of the world!

Do I know you?

You've asked me that ten times.

Are you one of my students?

Did we sleep together?

You're fixated on that.

Check your notebook.

The pretty girl with a tattoo on her

left thigh and too shy to smile at me

is Patrick's daughter.

And Patrick is...

Your daughter's boyfriend.

My dad.

He got bored caring for you

so he asked me.

Do you know who I am?

People would pay to spend time with me.

Guess Dad couldn't find any,

`cause here I am.

You have before you

a living encyclopedia.

Take advantage!

I could tell you about

the Library of Alexandria,

the Trojan War...

How Muhammad based his religion

on Christ's teachings,

which is somewhat ironic.

You've taught your entire life.

Why not take a break?

You're not curious!

You're no more curious than me.

You're only interested in dead people.

- Think so?

Isn't that history?

Muhammad, Jesus, Napoleon...

that crap's over.

There's more to life than that.

- Like what?

I know where this is going.

I saw you on TV about

how much time we waste on cell phones.

You saw the interview?

People care only

about your illness.

I didn't seem too confused, did I?

You were more pompous than confused.

Pompous?

Pompous!

Welcome to Québec!

Where if you speak well

using the correct vocabulary,

you're considered pompous!

It's not how you speak.

But you dis the Net

as if it were the end of civilization!

If you tried Facebook or YouTube,

you'd know they're for exchanging ideas.

Sure, everyone has the right

to express themselves!

Every ignoramus!

It's the democratization of stupidity!

Really?

- Yes!

I saw your dumb interview on YouTube.

Do I know you?

Jesus Christ!

- No, it's...

the way you talk to me, Christ,

I must know you.

Check your notebook.

The pretty young lady with a tattoo

on her left thigh

who treats me as if I'm slightly gaga,

is Patrick's daughter.

Who's Patrick?

See? You're not interested in others.

You haven't asked my name.

Right, it's true.

I apologize. What's your name?

Bérénice.

Bérénice?

My dad wanted to find

an original name for me.

Nathalie?

I didn't say Nathalie, I said Bérénice.

Madeleine.

Where's Madeleine?

I want to see her. Where is she?

Who's Madeleine? Your wife?

Mr Beauchemin!

Mr Beauchemin, come back!

Come sit.

- Who are you?

I want to see Madeleine right now!

Tell me where she is!

Madeleine's not here.

Mr Beauchemin!

Madeleine?

Mr Beauchemin!

Come inside.

I have to find the old oak tree!

What tree?

- Madeleine's.

She must be there.

I've no idea where it is.

Why am I panting?

You were running like a madman.

Is someone chasing us?

No, we're looking for your wife.

I'm not well, am I?

Not really, no.

My meds.

What?

- I bet she forgot to give them to me.

Meds? What meds?

You take medication?

- Sure!

Holy shit!

Who are you, anyway?

You're not my nurse.

- Fucking hell!

Not that way. Over here.

Careful!

- Yeah.

For a nurse, you swear a streak.

Guess I'm not a very good nurse.

- Yeah.

Hello!

Bérénice?

- Shh!

Everything OK?

- No! You didn't mention his meds.

Shit, the list!

- I found it.

After I chased him through the woods.

He went out?

Calm down.

He took his meds, he's sleeping.

Here.

- Thank you.

Thanks.

Pay me a taxi?

Nathalie?

Dad?

What are you doing?

Where is she?

She'll be back tomorrow, OK?

She will?

Tomorrow...

- Come to bed, it's late.

I hope I didn't scare her.

I overreacted.

- What are you talking about?

Your sister.

If she's coming back tomorrow...

I was talking about Mom.

No, Nathalie, your sister!

She visited me today.

Hello? I didn't hear you come in.

What's wrong with Dad?

- I dunno.

Nothing.

He got up three times.

- He says my sister was here.

You don't have one.

Exactly. What happened?

A girl who looks like your sister.

Maybe he's confused.

- I'm not crazy!

She stayed with me, a young girl.

What's going on?

- Bedtime, sir.

Really!

- You were dreaming.

Did he get his meds?

- Don't you trust me?

I only looked after your dad

to help you out.

I'm sorry. I'm exhausted.

- No worries.

Everything's fine.

We're here.

Right now, everything's fine.

Here! I know who that girl is.

The pretty young lady with a tattoo

on her left thigh

who treats me as if I'm gaga

is Patrick's daughter.

I take it he's Patrick?

Thought I wouldn't find out?

He'll forget by tomorrow.

Don't blame it on his confusion.

You lied to me and my mom.

You promised her.

You said you'd be here

and you took off.

Mathieu introduced me to a guy for a job.

At a hockey game?

- Yeah, it was for business.

So you have a new job?

- Isabelle...

Do you?

- It's not that simple.

Of course not,

with you everything's complicated.

Nothing serious happened.

It's no big deal.

I didn't leave him alone.

Even you say

your daughter's unreliable.

She managed pretty well.

He thinks she's a daughter

he never had.

Isabelle, you have to face the facts.

He's not going to get better.

Aren't we way early?

Half an hour, so what?

She'll think we're dumping him.

I don't get it. Her car's here.

Keep him busy.

Mr Beauchemin?

Did you plant all these?

What's going on?

You tell me.

Madeleine!

Look who's paying us a visit!

Can you fix us something for dinner?

Sure.

Come on in!

Don't pretend to be surprised.

You know our marriage

has been rocky for years.

And you met on Facebook?

I'm too old to cruise the discos.

You'd leave Dad

for a hookup on Facebook?

He'll be better off.

I can't do it anymore.

If I stay, I'll get sick.

What'll he do without you?

You can't just leave.

I'm not forcing you.

You don't have to take him.

What do you mean?

Who'll look after him?

You want us to place him?

I understand.

You're very busy, it's normal.

I wasn't very present

when my mom had cancer, either.

Wait. He's my responsibility now?

It's my decision to place him?

He's your father. It's your business, too.

He's your husband.

You decided to marry him.

So if you want to place him,

it's your decision.

If you planned to leave him,

you should've done it before.

What will become of him?

Wait till he's further gone,

at least.

I'm at my wits' end,

don't you see?

I want him to die!

Look how beautiful these are!

Do you have a vase, dear?

And your girlfriend agrees?

- Sure.

You must be desperate.

You'll be earning a salary.

Think it over.

You'll be paid.

No cash worries.

Yeah, until he croaks.

I'm so tired of that attitude.

Do something with your life.

It'd do you good to get out more.

See people, take responsibility.

It's my life.

I'm an adult, I do what I want.

Fine, do what you want.

But don't count on me

to pay your rent.

I don't know how to explain, but...

I need to leave.

- That's fine.

You need a break, it's normal.

No, I'm leaving for longer.

How long?

I don't know yet.

I'm sorry.

You're leaving.

You're right.

I mean...

To leave.

I don't know if I'm right.

In your shoes I'd do the same.

I'd probably already have left...

for one of my little co-eds.

Cut it out, macho man!

I'll come see you.

Madeleine?

If you have the courage to go,

it's maybe best you never come back.

After spring's showers

When the crocuses flower

You'll remember me

When the sun slowly sets

And you're feeling regrets

You'll remember me

Summer days so bright

Will not say you were right

To abandon me

On their perches every bird

Will call, ‟Cruel girl”

You'll remember me

Isabelle, leave your sister alone.

She started it!

- No, you did!

You're a liar!

When there's frost in the air

And you wish I were there

You'll remember me

If a winter storm brews

Or if you're feeling blue

You'll remember me

Go dream under the old oak tree

Where I wrote, ‟Madeleine,

I love only you!”

And if your heart hears my plea

When you see that tree,

You'll remember me

How sad life is

When you're not here

This is so old school.

You OK?

Yeah, yeah.

Who are you?

The young lady with a tattoo on her thigh

who treats you as if you're gaga...

Ring a bell?

Why are you here?

Isabelle said you have a job interview.

I figure you need one

so you can keep paying my rent.

Hi.

How'd you convince her?

Where there's a will,

there's a way.

I want Dad to stay here

as long as possible.

I can't always be here, nor can you.

So we need someone.

You said she's unreliable.

- No, you said that.

Gotta run.

I'll be thinking of you.

I know it.

- Harvest, by Neil Young.

He had back pain when he recorded it.

So he'd play lying down.

I'm serious.

Thanks.

Say, what's your name?

- Bérénice.

How funny.

That's my daughter's name.

No, Mr Beauchemin, she's Isabelle.

I know Isabelle's Isabelle, but I have

another whose name is Nathalie.

Aren't you mixing things up?

My name is Bérénice.

Her mom found Bérénice old-fashioned,

so we called her Nathalie.

But when she was baptized,

I insisted on Bérénice as her middle name.

Is that your line for hitting on co-eds?

Not at all. In fact...

when we were alone together,

I'd call her that...

Bérénice.

I always liked it.

Why doesn't Bérénice come to visit?

That's complicated.

But you'd like her to come.

She was born in 1977.

That's not important.

But her date of conception is.

She was conceived on

November 15, 1976,

the night René Lévesque

won the election.

When we got home from

the Paul Sauvé arena,

we were completely euphoric.

I think everyone who was at the rally

made love when they got home.

You have to understand.

We felt we were at a crossroad.

We were witnessing

history being written.

It was incredible.

You know who René Lévesque was,

I hope.

Vaguely.

He was the Québec

prime minister.

He smoked a lot - all the time, in fact.

He was short

and practically bald.

But he had a comb-over to make it

look like he had hair.

That's all you remember

about René Lévesque?

Frightening!

Not my fault

I had bad teachers.

Learning is the job of students,

not of teachers.

Have you heard of the 1980 referendum,

at least?

I know the No side won.

And the question was complicated.

I know that from your interview.

You must've heard

his famous line from that night...

My dear...

My dear friends...

My dear friends...

If...

If I...

If I understand you right...

If I understand you correctly,

you're telling me,

"Until next time."

He knew we'd missed

a historic opportunity.

At least, he'd missed it.

He must've thought

he'd never see it again.

So before the ecstatic crowd,

he thought he had no choice.

He had to leave us with hope.

Independence for Québec!

But if you listen closely

to what he said,

you hear doubt.

He starts with,

‟If I understand you correctly.”

An uncertainty.

Like he was telling us,

‟I'm not sure I understand what you said.”

My dear René, it's your turn now

to let us express our love for you

We saw the pain on his face and...

we felt ashamed

for disappointing him.

And by applauding him, we weren't saying,

‟We'll win next time.”

We were apologizing for having failed.

But...

do you think

we'll ever be independent?

To be honest, I don't feel

the need for it anymore.

My Bérénice committed suicide

on her 19th birthday.

That's why she doesn't visit.

I'm sorry.

It's something I've spent lots of time

and energy trying to forget.

You remind me of her.

She was idealistic, like you.

You barely know me.

Anyone who finds reality disappointing

is an idealist.

I may be an idealist,

but not like you.

Nathalie?

Yeah.

Yeah, it's me.

Do you remember the time we went to PEI

and there was a hurricane?

You bet I remember!

We went with the Leducs.

It was their idea to go camping.

We were huddled in a tent

that was about to fly away

and you kept saying,

‟Don't panic, there's no danger.”

You made us sing songs

to keep up our courage.

Songs? What kind of songs?

They were so corny!

Go on! Go on!

Don't cry, Jeannette

Don't cry, Jeannette,

we'll marry you off!

Another bottle!

- Did you order that?

No, I think you did.

I did?

Then it must be good!

It's very good, Dad.

It's our third bottle.

That's why I feel tipsy.

That's my problem.

I forget I've had a glass.

I have two, then three.

I think I'm on my first.

How perfect!

I love drinking with you,

my beloved daddy!

It helps me to be in the moment.

You know, the goddamn moment!

People get their panties in a knot

about the goddamn moment!

But I'm so there.

I feel good, I'm in the moment,

because I'm with you,

my darling handsome daddy whom I love!

So what if I'm drunk? I'm happy!

So, to the present moment!

- To the present moment!

To the moment!

It was lovely, Dad.

I had a lovely evening.

I haven't felt this close in a long time.

Dad?

You're here?

It's me, Dad. Isabelle.

Isabelle?

Your daughter.

Oh yeah. Sorry.

I thought you were your mom.

Where is she?

That one?

No, I don't think so.

Maybe in this one.

Or that one here.

I know what's going on.

I'm not crazy.

Madeleine wants to hide me.

She thinks I'm too incoherent to teach.

I know my courses by heart.

I have an excellent memory for dates.

I think that's the one.

Her sweater.

Her darned sweater.

You're here?

You're not supposed to be.

You wanted to see me.

So I came.

It can't be that simple.

You know, Dad, when you dream...

Sometimes you know it's a dream,

that you'll wake up -

but you want to stay in it.

Because it's amazing.

Because you're happy.

Think of me like that.

Like a dream.

What do I have to do?

Just enjoy it.

I can't. You're going to leave me.

I'm here. Now, with you.

I don't know what to say.

I'm sorry I tried to forget you.

It was the worst mistake

of my life.

I tried so hard to stop thinking of you.

I remember that sweater.

You wore nothing else.

Drove me crazy.

‟People will think

we can't afford new clothes.”

Remember?

That evening?

Your mother and sister had gone out.

I bought a chicken pie from Chez Paul.

You weren't wild about chicken pie.

But I kept going on about,

‟Chez Paul's chicken pie is really good!”

As if by repeating it,

Chez Paul's chicken pie

would become your favorite meal.

I was such an idiot.

I hated myself for that.

Your last meal was a chicken pie

you must've found so boring.

Tell me why you left.

Write this down.

Yeah.

It wasn't your fault. Or Mom's.

I was just... so miserable.

I didn't like myself.

I was convinced I was worthless,

that I had no purpose.

I hadn't met anyone I could help,

who'd have given me a reason to live,

and be useful.

Wait, I forgot to write it down.

I don't remember.

I don't remember, goddamn fucking shit!

Calm down!

I remember.

I remember.

I'll write it down.

I'll write it for you.

I remember.

Here.

What's that?

Memantine hydrochloride.

Sounds like the title of a poem

by Claude Gauvreau.

Nathalie, do you remember

how we'd invent poems in Explorean?

Aglagachi

Ouglousouzum

Spounta fragala

Babachi minosus

Here, this'll help.

- Sure!

What is this?

Isabelle, you're here!

Where's this from?

We found it.

There. Even your sister

can't stand to see it.

Have you gone insane?

Come with me!

- What's wrong?

Damn you!

What did I do?

Don't play dumb!

Here...

It's not your fault I'm dead.

I was just so miserable. Blablabla.

Your loving daughter, Nathalie.

You wrote that!

- I just wanted...

You can't fuck with his head like that.

He's mixed up enough.

Want him to go completely crazy?

It may seem weird,

but it makes him happy.

I'm trying to help.

- Stop it! Go home!

What?

- Go home, now!

What is going on?

Everything's fine, Dad.

- He needs me.

Isabelle!

- Come sit down.

Why do you attack your sister?

Please, Dad.

- Constantly!

You're confused, let me explain.

- No!

Beat it!

I'm sorry.

Nathalie? Did you tell her to go?

Dad.

Nathalie's not dead.

You saw her. She was here.

Hey!

- Hello.

Bérénice? What's going on?

That wasn't Nathalie.

It was Bérénice.

My boyfriend's daughter.

She looks after you.

Bérénice?

- Yes.

Answer me.

- Get off me!

What happened?

Your girlfriend fired me.

Christ, what did you do now?

It's not my fault

he thinks I'm his dead daughter.

What?

Her sweater. You saw it.

That damned maroon sweater

she always wore before...

Before what?

Before what, Dad?

You know as well as I do.

Nathalie's gone.

For good.

Yes.

- Yes.

Have you gone nuts?

- Sorry?

You can't do that!

What?

- You can't do that. It'll mess him up!

Nuts?

I've gone nuts?

- Bérénice!

Screw you!

- It's not about that!

Bérénice!

Nathalie?

You had a sister

who killed herself?

What?

Bérénice says your sister

killed herself.

Is that true?

Why didn't you tell me?

This isn't the time.

- You shut me out.

I thought we were a couple.

Isn't that how it works?

We share, we talk,

otherwise we're each alone.

Patrick, please.

Couldn't you talk to me a bit,

so I understand you better?

What's there to understand?

I'm not the burn-out case here.

Keep your family history to yourself.

I won't interfere.

It's all yours.

Patrick!

He left, too.

This is Madeleine Gagnon.

I'm not available.

Please leave a message.

Christ!

Madeleine, she's called

three or four times.

Was I a good father?

Why do you ask?

Well...

I don't think I was very present.

It's true that you worked a lot.

But when you were there,

you were there.

Glad to hear it.

Lie down.

Too bad you don't have kids.

You'd have been a good mother.

Get some sleep, Dad.

I'm sorry.

I'm feeling overwhelmed.

Call me back, OK?

I love you.

It's called that for a reason.

What is history?

A story we tell ourselves, collectively.

That explains who we are.

And we can't opt out.

We are born into a story

that's underway.

To understand our role in it,

we have no choice.

We must know what happened before.

Bérénice?

Open up, please. I know you're there.

I want to talk.

I know you meant well. It's just...

It's complicated.

Some things you can't do.

I'm leaving what we owe you.

For caretaking.

Call me, OK?

I haven't found anyone to look after him.

In his state,

I can't leave him with just anyone.

Yes, I understand.

I know I said I'd be away

only a few days, but...

Yeah, I understand.

No, I don't want you to think...

Alright, fine.

I'll find a solution. I'll...

I'll be there this afternoon for sure.

Perfect.

How'd you sleep?

- Very well.

Well, I think I did.

It's cloudy,

but the light is magnificent.

Yeah.

Stay here, I'll be right back.

OK, I'll stay here.

- Good.

I brought you a book.

Laurentian Flora, good.

You won't leave?

- No.

Is my mother here?

Didn't feel like answering?

- Honestly? No.

Hi. I'm James. I imagine you're Isabelle.

Hello.

Keep him here? With James?

- You left him with me.

No way. Forget it.

That would really mess him up.

Just come home.

It won't kill you

to leave Romeo for 2 days.

I don't think it's a good idea.

Temporarily, while I work things out.

Your mother has done her share.

- Butt out!

It's OK.

Oh yes.

A lovely arrangement.

- Thank you.

Beautiful!

What are those flowers called again?

Roses, Champlain roses.

Champlain roses.

- Yup.

You're in denial.

What? I'm in denial?

I'll come visit homes with you.

- We're not placing him!

You think only of yourself.

- Yes, for the first time, and I like it.

I'm with a man who desires me.

And the sex is fantastic!

You're the selfish one.

Can you see what this means to me?

Sir? Sir?

Ever think of me?

You don't ask.

You don't care.

All you care about is your career

and what people think of you.

Anything else, you don't give a damn.

Exactly like your dad.

Madeleine?

I told him it's private property, but...

No, that's OK. He's a friend.

Oh yeah? Do I know you?

Édouard?

What are you doing here?

What are you doing here?

Where are we?

Your wife's boyfriend's.

What?

That's right.

They met on Facebook!

Is that modern enough for you?

I hear the sex is fantastic.

What do you mean,

the sex is fantastic?

Who is that guy?

Have you been gone long?

I'm sorry.

I don't know what to do.

That's alright.

Some caregiver I am.

Your mom should've left me with Nathalie.

You're right.

She'd be better than me.

Yeah.

Don't ever leave me again.

And your boss?

He came round.

I knew you two would get back together.

I'll let you have some privacy.

Take your time. I'll see you later.

Come on.

Let's go in.

Isabelle!

Wake up!

- What is it, Dad?

Where's Nathalie?

- What?

Hurry, we have to find Nathalie!

Patrick, wake up.

- What now?

Jesus Christ!

She was here!

I have to find her!

- Calm down.

I need to talk to her, understand?

Your daughter is dead, Mr Beauchemin.

I forbid you to say that!

Nathalie's not dead. She visited me.

I'm sure.

Let me.

Mr Beauchemin, wait!

Hello?

What?

He's calmer now, but you never know.

Your dad's coming. He'll be there in...

20.

- What?

20.

- 20 minutes, OK?

You didn't want me to see him.

I changed my mind.

- Some cop out.

You're in shit,

so you call.

Not true.

This isn't easy for me to do.

You handle it.

Come on, please.

Please.

- Are you talking to Nathalie?

Yes.

Pass her over.

Pass her over.

Nathalie?

Yes, it's me.

Where are you?

I'm at my place.

Why did you leave?

Come home, OK.

Please.

Here.

Bérénice?

Dad?

What?

You won't have to pay me.

I don't want you to pay me, OK?

OK.

Thank you.

Wait.

Here.

I told him you were coming,

but he's still quite agitated.

Dad?

Bérénice?

It's alright, Dad. I'm here.

Where were you, Nathalie?

I worried something happened.

- Nothing happened. I'm here.

I'm with you.

I'm with you.

Be careful.

- I'm not going to poison him.

He's still sleeping.

If he's not up soon, wake him,

or he'll be in a fog.

No worries.

Good luck. You'll ace this one.

Thanks.

See you later. My cell's on.

Thanks, it'll be alright... Dad?

Me, I'd hire you.

I'm sure you'll get it.

Nathalie! Do you have a car?

- No way.

Fine, we'll get a taxi.

Wait, to go where?

I need to see the news desk.

There's an anchor named...

Robert...

What is it?

Can't remember.

I'm sure if he sees my notes,

he'll want to do an interview.

An interview?

Yes. Here, take a look.

If I had my radio show,

I wouldn't need him.

They're worried I'm going senile

and that I'll lose my track on air.

I need Robert.

- Forgive me.

They won't put you on just because

you have something to say.

Why, am I not making sense?

No, but...

- You have to help me, Nathalie!

Your mom and sister

will never let me go on TV.

They wish I'd shut up or disappear.

Fine! Fine!

I know what we'll do.

- What?

Come, I know.

There...

We'll film you and stream it.

There...

My notebook! I need my notebook.

Like this.

We're on in

3, 2, 1...

Rolling.

Is it filming?

- We're good.

Hello.

This message is for future generations.

My name is Édouard Beauchemin

and I have an illness

that is obliterating who I am.

It's eating me up:

my mind, my ideas, my very self.

Soon my body will go on living,

but I will have disappeared.

Before I disappear,

I want to address this message to you.

OK?

Yeah, keep going.

I'd like to warn you to be careful.

You're exposed to a monstrous

quantity of information.

You're swamped by it.

All this data, images, sounds, words

plunge you into total confusion.

Each new idea expels the last one

before you have time to consider it.

You hear the worst horrors

or the most stimulating ideas,

but those ideas survive only minutes,

before being flushed away by new

information you'll forget within an hour.

You are prisoners

of the eternal present.

That's the illness.

It kills you, stops you from living.

You forget everything.

Nothing leaves a mark.

You are exiled from reality,

unable to act,

too well informed

about every problem,

buried by all that we should be doing,

unable to choose and to interact

with what's real.

It's the end,

the final throes of civilization.

We are witnessing

the dematerialization of the world.

Everything is abstract, conceptual,

relative - worthless.

You are prisoners

of the eternal present.

Like me.

Did I sleep long?

I don't know, I didn't check the time.

What happened, Madeleine?

What do you mean?

What happened?

You know full well what happened.

Anyway, I'm happy you're here now.

Me too, I'm happy.

It's not fair.

I won't be able to look after you

when you're ill.

You're leaving me here?

You'll be able to rest.

Will Madeleine come here, too?

I think she also needs a rest.

I'll visit often.

You're off to cover your floods?

You remember that?

I can't forget everything.

You're right.

And...

Promise me

you'll stop fighting with your sister.

I promise.

No casket.

No gravestone.

I've a foot in the abyss.

Soon all of me.

Mr Beauchemin!

You mustn't go out like that.

You'll catch a cold.

Come inside.

Let's go.

You're shivering.

Attention.

I'm disappearing.

I'm disappearing.

What's that?

Édouard?

What did you say?

Here.

Take it.

Soon I won't need it, anyway.

I'd like you to read it.

Are you afraid of dying?

The problem with dying

is the suffering that comes with it.

I'd like to go like that,

without knowing it.

But if it were to go on too long,

or became unbearable

I'd find a way to put an end to it,

and fast.

Hello, daughter.

I hear you're having a good day.

- Why?

Was yesterday bad?

No, but your nurse said that.

I was glad to hear it.

Then why do they keep me here?

- Dad...

What's the problem?

I have an excellent memory!

I could analyze

Pharaoh Akhenaten's reforms...

And recite Homer's finest passages.

I know, you already have.

Really?

- Last week.

Maybe my memory isn't that great.

I'm glad you're here.

Why do you have that?

You gave it to me to read.

I did?

Don't you remember?

You said I should read it.

I'll read you parts.

The memoirs of a man who forgets...

Not very promising.

It's important.

From a few weeks ago.

Regarding Madeleine.

Remember not to be angry.

Remember when we fell in love.

Remember what made me

want to love her.

Remember her expression, intimidated,

her smile, red with pleasure,

just from looking at me.

If people remembered,

they'd never leave each other.

It's a little sappy.

It sounds like a Harlequin novel.

I like it.

Fine.

When I'm dead,

put my body in a garbage bag

and leave it on the roadside.

That's better!

I want no ceremony.

No casket,

no gravestone,

no commemorative plaque.

Every day, animals die.

Trees, plants, insects.

No one mourns their disappearance,

no one thinks twice.

It's how things go.

It's like Québec.

As a people, we are a curiosity

in North America.

Our disappearance, while regrettable,

won't be a huge loss

to the history of humanity.

Our language will be silenced.

So what?

Who remembers the people

sacrificed to history?

Who laments the fate that befell

our First Nations?

In the 16th century

Spain smashed a brilliant civilization

to plunder its treasures and gold.

Destroy to possess the gold of others.

Like a preview of the unbridled capitalism

that arose centuries later,

sacking everything in its path.

As does, today, the Phragmites communis.

YouTube has lots of videos

on those reeds.

Shots of birds perched on reeds,

birds eating reeds,

Phragmites communis

is a YouTube celebrity!

Well, I never!

Bérénice?

Nathalie...

For now,

I have but one foot in the abyss.

Soon I'll slip into it completely.

The worst awaits.

It's almost here. I can feel it.

Soon I'll be shrouded in a permanent fog.

I'll have only the present,

which I'll spend,

if I'm lucky,

and not completely abandoned,

talking to loved ones from whom I'm so far

gone that I can't recognize them.

So the question is:

What's the point?

Why live in the present when, five minutes

later, nothing is left of it?

This disappearance

is definitely too slow.

One should leave swiftly,

plunge into death, for good.

But who can help me?

And give me the shove I need

to cease to exist?

Perhaps you, Bérénice?

Would you have the courage?

Did I write that?

What do you think,

today, right now?

Well...

All I know is that,

for the moment, right now,

you're with me.

And...

I admit I'm not sure who you are.

I wish you were my daughter, but no.

But what I feel is,

I don't want it to stop.

So what you're saying is that

what you wrote in your notebook...

the marks you left...

don't mean anything now?

Good question.

Very good question.

It's the question, I imagine.

Who are you?

Tell me about yourself.

You'll forget, anyway.

Who cares?

I want to hear you talk.

Warmest thanks to Guy Nadon,

who inspired our every step.

Subtitles: Robert Gray, Kinograph