Walking a Tightrope (1991) - full transcript
Paris in the early sixties.
The Algerian War...
During the first half,
you have enjoyed...
WALKING A TIGHTROPE
the exceptional juggler Rastello.
The Crooks of the Desert,
presented by El Madji.
Fantastic acrobats, the Zorecs.
Grenetti's Carnival of the Animals.
The extraordinary trapezist,
Daniel Gepellec.
The wonderful Indian elephants
brilliantly trained by Anton Pakar.
That's him.
He's handsome.
Children of all ages,
ladies and gentlemen,
a 15-minute intermission.
Ladies and gentlemen,
a 15-minute intermission.
During the intermission, be sure
to visit the circus menagerie,
and see a fabulous collection
of animals
from all four corners of the world.
I'll be right back.
Isn't that Marcel Spadice
in that box?
That's him.
He's with some slut.
- She must be bait.
- A cock-catcher.
It's Hélène Lagache.
Divorcee.
Sister of Éliane Perron,
banker Émile Perron's wife.
She's an ex-ballerina.
She fell while dancing
the master's ballet.
I think he's this century's
finest poet.
He no longer writes after Cisaire
tore him apart in his book.
Park there.
So that he sees you first
when he comes out.
There he is. Pull forward.
Good night.
Stop.
What shall we do?
Go to the Gare de I'Est.
Soldiers are coming back on leave.
Drive on.
I recognize one of the girls.
She's an usherette.
He's taking them to the bistro.
One day you'll be attacked
by someone
who'll feel insulted
being approached by a pederast.
Not a bit.
I know how to go about it.
It's sad, at my age.
Running these risks
is the price of my failings.
You'd be surprised how few men
refuse to sleep with a queer.
- There are places for that.
I don't like queens.
They make me sick.
And I don't like
prostitutes either,
whether virile or effeminate.
You won't need me
at the Gare de I'Est.
You're right.
It's a spot for a quick fling.
If it doesn't work tonight,
it'll work another time.
I'm boring you with this circus boy.
You're not boring me.
I see why you're keen
Should we go back tomorrow?
I'll call you.
I forgot my Nembutal.
I've none left.
I sleep badly.
Ask your pharmacist.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Do you have a light?
- Were you on the Mulhouse train?
- Yes.
Why?
I took you for a friend of mine.
You look like him.
Oh?
Not as good looking as you,
but almost.
Silly. I had some money for him.
- Waiting for someone?
- My cousin.
Doesn't look like he's coming.
Are you in a hurry?
If not we could go for a drink.
Come on.
Leave this in left luggage.
Morning. Are you Franz-Ali's mother?
I am Mrs Christa Paeffgen Aoussine.
You're his mother?
He's our son.
So I'm his mother.
I hurried over here.
I work with him at the Imira Circus.
He was picked up
in a round-up last night.
A round-up?
Yes. He asked me to tell you.
- What is this?
- The police.
They took him
because he looks Algerian.
They'll let him go.
Where is he now?
At the police station.
I wrote all the details here.
I have to go.
You were hard to find.
Goodbye.
Goodbye. Thank you.
The police will no doubt call on you
to check on what your son told them.
It's best that you know.
Thank you, miss.
Franz-Ali Aoussine.
Hurry along.
Move it.
So your name's
Franz-Ali Aoussine?
Yes, sir.
What resources do you have?
Money. Do you work?
Not now.
I'm a war widow.
Before, I wrestled.
- What?
- A wrestler.
Wrestler.
Answer when I speak to you,
goat-fucker.
My father was in the French army,
a prisoner in Germany.
Look, sir.
Abdallah Aoussine is dead.
I saw a bombing.
American bombing.
My husband...
He died.
Now I can't bear to hear planes.
I don't like it.
Who were you meeting at the bistro?
Nobody.
What were you doing,
far from home at 1am?
I went for a drink after work.
I work at the circus next door.
As what? A clown?
I pick up droppings
after the performing animals number.
Well, you smell of shit anyway
like all Arabs.
- Yes, sir.
Franz-Ali is training
on the high wire.
He wants to become a great artiste.
Sir,
I am a very nice woman.
Very alone.
You are a nice man.
Stop! That's enough!
Written on here
are all the details
for your spotty A-rab.
I don't like the Jerries.
They wiped out the Jews.
But I can't stand their Gretschens
who marry Arabs
and sully their race.
You can't insult me twice,
Mr Policeman.
Because I'm racist and I killed Jews
or because I'm not racist
and I married a dirty Arab!
Can you call Mrs Lagache for me?
This is the number...
During the first half, you enjoyed...
He's not here tonight.
Riding master
Werner Schumann.
- I'll see what's happened.
- Go on.
Magician Karim Khan.
5 francs.
Thank you.
Excuse me, you're friends
with the ring boy.
Which one?
You were with him last night.
Oh yes. What do you want with him?
It's rather tricky.
I'm with a very well-known man.
He wants to speak to him.
Which man?
He writes plays and films.
He loves the circus.
What's his name?
Keep it to yourself.
His name's Marcel Spadice.
Marcel Spadice?
Yes, he often comes here.
He was here last night.
I saw him tonight.
We came together.
Franz-Ali was caught in a round-up
in the local bar.
Do you know where he is?
He's in the 18th precinct
police cells.
He looks Algerian.
Say his name again.
Franz-Ali Aoussine.
Strange name.
He's half-German.
Thank you very much.
He was picked up in a round-up.
They raided the local bar.
They could keep him for ages.
Don't worry, I'll see to it.
Tomorrow morning, or even tonight.
Your husband's a friend
of the prefect
so I thought you could
fix it for him.
Did you tell him
you were coming to me?
Of course, Éliane.
Yes?
I did it, Marcel. They'll release him
tomorrow at noon.
Terrific.
They didn't want to let him go.
There was a bad report on his mother.
She burdened her son.
I'll go to the circus,
and ask his friend to wait
for him at the station
and bring him to the nearest bistro.
- Goodbye, Marcel.
- Goodbye, Hélène.
And thank you.
You're welcome.
I'm glad they released you.
You don't look too well.
It was hard.
Well, you've been really lucky.
You call that luck?
- How did you know I was getting out?
- People looked after you.
But for them,
you'd still be with the cops.
Some have stayed there for months.
But I've done nothing wrong.
Neither had they.
You're telling me stories.
They're waiting for you.
Who is?
You'll see.
There they are.
Go and fetch him.
Go on, Franz-Ali.
That's Marcel Spadice.
He's waiting at that table, there.
Who is he?
A very important man,
well known.
Come and join us.
Sorry, I didn't introduce myself...
You're in the way!
He's a writer.
He got you out of jail.
He intervened with the government.
The cops gave your mother
a bad report.
They went to question her.
Sit down, Franz-Ali.
My name is Marcel.
Since I was told your name,
I looked into you. You're famous.
I didn't know how much...
I'm late, I must be going.
Me too.
I'll give you a lift.
Goodbye, Marcel.
Goodbye, Franz-Ali.
Goodbye, Mr Genius.
Bye, Franzi.
Did the police knock you about?
Yes, a bit.
You'll forget quickly.
You were in there 3 days?
Yes, 3 or 4.
I've spent 3 years in jail, in all.
I just escaped banishment.
You know what that means?
You're worn out. Go and rest.
Yes, I am tired.
You want a rope dancer's routine,
right?
That's right.
I might be able to help you.
When you're rested
come for dinner with me.
We'll talk.
When? Tonight?
Or tomorrow. As you wish.
No. Tonight.
- There's no more hot water.
- Pour some cold on.
More.
That's four times you've soaped.
What did you tell them?
They beat me.
They made me clean the toilets.
I carted their shit.
They stripped me naked
and searched my holes.
They pissed, spat and vomited on me.
What did you tell them?
Were you drunk?
You were plastered?
Raving?
No, Franzi.
I behaved properly.
I made myself smart.
You know, your father used to say,
"Christa, the best form of defence
"is attack."
So I attacked.
Mud-wrestling is my bag.
Why defend yourself?
We've done nothing wrong.
You're an Arab's son.
That's wrong.
This land is at war
against the Arabs.
And that's wrong.
I'm European.
I married an Algerian
and had a child with him.
And that's wrong.
The policeman who came
said he preferred the Nazis
to Christians like me
who marry A-rabs.
And that's wrong too.
There was no point doing all that.
You just got their goat,
in fact.
At least now you know.
I know what?
I can't explain.
You'll just know.
I know at any rate
that the Algerians there
didn't trust me.
I wasn't like them.
I was always alone.
While some tortured me,
the others turned their backs.
You see.
You already know a little.
Maybe you're right.
If they hadn't kept me,
I wouldn't have met the people I met.
What people?
They got me out of
where you put me.
Who are they?
Circus customers.
Very important people.
Especially the gentleman.
The gentleman?
He asked his friends to intervene.
The cops wanted to keep me longer
because of you.
I'll sleep a little, Mutti.
Wake me at 7 o'clock.
Stay in bed, Franzi.
You're tired.
Don't go to work tonight.
It's not for work.
Good evening, gentlemen.
I'll show you through.
- Allow me.
- Thank you.
Have a nice evening.
How long have you been interested
in tightrope walking?
From the age of 14.
You frequented the circus?
My uncle was a stable boy.
I'd go often.
Have you already tried?
Of course. That's all I've done.
What?
- Tried.
- Why?
Before my uncle died,
I went to school till I was 16.
Then I was hired by the Imira Circus.
My uncle asked them.
They sent me on tour.
For more than 2 years,
I couldn't walk the high wire.
We came back a month ago.
But now I'll build my own routine.
Why tightrope walker
and not something else?
Of all the acts I've seen,
it's the one I like best.
I want to do it.
You didn't choose the easiest.
That's why.
I'd sooner starve
than do something that anyone can do.
Born in Solingen?
I've never been.
It's a factory town. Sad.
It's funny.
I never speak to people.
I only answer questions
if I'm forced to.
It's funny to feel I can trust you.
And I can trust you too, Franz.
You'll be the finest tightrope walker
in the world.
I'll help you.
You start tomorrow.
From now on, that's all you'll do.
I've got some savings,
but not much.
You'll pay me back later,
when you're famous,
which you will be.
But there is one thing.
From now on...
nothing matters more than your work.
No family or similar concerns
must distract you.
It's the only way you'll make it.
By cutting yourself off
from the world.
Are you ready?
Yes.
I've organized a very busy week.
Bring your legs underneath.
Stretch, bend, that's it.
Another...
There.
That's good.
You didn't leave the mat.
Now, extension jump.
I'll show you.
Roll, back up and extend.
Go on.
Stop.
Keep your stomach tight
or you'll hurt your back.
Climb high
and clench your stomach muscles.
Go on.
There.
It'll take a lot of effort
to read all these works.
But beyond understanding
each author intellectually,
try to feel his pain.
Make it yours.
As deep as you can bear.
Give me your hand.
Somersault jump.
A little far. Tuck in more.
There.
Balance on my knees.
It'll calm you down.
Take a breather.
Today, a full somersault jump.
Salto mortale.
Magnificent.
Right. That's enough for today.
- Goodbye.
- Thank you.
Come.
You've made encouraging progress.
But you still have a way to go.
The hardest part is ahead.
On your left,
bathrooms and kitchen.
There are still things.
It'll all be over in a week.
I like it.
I am very happy.
Yes?
It's my agent, Diekmann.
- Hello, Mr Diekmann.
- Hello, Marcel.
Élisabeth Haas
has received your manuscript.
She loves the translation!
She's made an offer
of 50,000 dollars for the rights.
- Payable...?
- In 3 tranches: at the signature,
day 1 of rehearsals
and the dress rehearsal.
She guarantees a US tour
if the play's a hit in New York.
The amount's OK,
not the timetable.
Everything up front.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye, Marcel.
It's for the apartment.
I'll make the Yank pay up.
One more time.
Look for it. Catch it.
Come back up.
Look down.
Look for it. Back up.
Here. Look, look.
Back up.
And the splits.
Chest up and stand up again.
About turn on the wire.
And splits with the other leg.
Hold your chest up
and stand up.
Head up and stand.
Back to the platform.
Run along the wire
to the other platform.
It's your life insurance.
About turn. And away.
Keep it up.
Stop, stop.
Start from the end.
Off you go and stop in the middle.
Start from the end. Go on!
Look for it.
And away.
Off you go.
That's enough for today.
I'm happy, Franzi.
Really happy.
You can do the tightrope act
and nothing but that.
Very well.
You've wanted to do this
from being 14.
Very well.
But there's always a price.
I hope it's not too dear.
No dearer than picking up shit
from the ring
instead of tightrope walking.
You're right, Franzi.
But please, don't tightrope walk
with your life.
Don't worry.
I may not balance my life
like you do yours, but I can try.
I know.
My life isn't great. I know.
But I had a son until now.
I hope that I shan't lose him.
You had a shit-shoveller son.
You'll have a tightrope walker.
The greatest, thanks to
the world's greatest genius.
Come and see me sometimes.
I'll come as often as I can.
I'll bring you money.
I don't want any.
Keep the tour money
in your piggybox.
You can spend it.
Buy some beer or some schnapps.
I'm keeping it.
Maybe you'll need it one day.
Come.
That won't do.
It's waste.
Pure technique with no imagination.
Heavy.
It has weighed you down
instead of liberating you.
There's no sensuality in that.
You're a tank
instead of a flying machine.
Like the architecture
of this grotesque edifice
compared to Amiens Cathedral.
You have a choice to make.
Reach for the heights
and take a risk
or stay close to the ground.
But I'll disintegrate.
From now on, I'll be the one
who makes you work.
Time to don your dancing shoes.
You'll dance the tricky steps.
Classical dance.
I've devised a choreography
that's sensual, horny and enchanting.
"Grace falls on its face"
will be the image of your routine.
Thanks.
Don't thank me yet.
It won't be easy.
You can work on your pointes
at the barre.
Go ahead.
Both feet.
Both feet!
Forward.
Go on.
Until the end.
Go on, then.
Now go again.
Forward.
Go on.
Both feet. Move forward.
You know that, in fact,
writing has allowed me to age
from an endless youth
that won't grow old.
I doubt I can sum up
being a writer any better.
Stop.
Marcel...
In your early books,
you glorify gays,
traitors and criminals.
Then you began to sing
of Negroes and Arabs.
How did those
that aren't in this world
appreciate your books?
I don't know and I don't care.
Only my books can answer.
Maybe they shat on them.
Go on, about turn.
About turn.
Go on!
I can't.
- Why?
- Because...
Don't argue. Try.
Go on.
About turn.
Shit!
Fuck it!
Bullshit!
I have to review everything.
My whole conception
of highwire ballet.
I'll have you train
in tightrope slippers.
- On pointes.
- On demi-pointes.
Don't argue, I'll decide.
Go and change shoes.
Change your shoes.
The beauty of this architecture,
is its great severity.
Its breathing is painful,
tumultuous, even.
Yet smiling at the same time.
Look.
This virgin is beautiful.
She looks like an adolescent.
Maybe Our Saviour's mother
was a transvestite.
Only a queer would be capable
of immaculate conception,
of parthenogenesis.
You've never mentioned your mother.
There's nothing to say.
She never existed.
If she'd abandoned me at the altar,
I'd have forgiven her.
But she left me at the hospice door.
She was a prostitute.
At 12, my adoptive parents
left me too.
It was the law. But still.
I was pointed at
and known as the little bastard.
Since then,
they've not stopped pointing
and I did what it took.
I wallowed in abjection,
delinquency,
treason.
And I shouted it out.
I know you don't like my mother.
I can't love son and mother
at the same time.
Do I have to explain why?
No, don't bother.
Deploy from the knee.
Two steps: one, two.
Two steps.
Battement ciseaux.
Face straight ahead.
Battement de cloche.
Demi-tour sur demi-pointe.
Stabilized arabesque.
Okay, go again.
Go on!
Right.
Two steps.
One, two, battement ciseaux.
Careful. Battement de cloche.
Demi-tour sur demi-pointe.
Stabilize.
Arabesque.
Christ, be careful!
Work!
Grace.
Look at me!
Think about what you're doing.
Look at yourself.
Try to be better.
Are you imagining? Imagine!
Don't look at me.
Look at your rope. The wire.
I'm going.
Stop. I didn't say begin.
Franz-Ali?
Come here.
Yes, Marcel.
I noted all these figures
and all these drawings
so you could do them in the darkness
of your room.
As if each of these elements was you.
Don't bother about their meaning
or the figures.
You have to assimilate and then
reproduce the outline of each
without thinking about it.
Without even having to remember.
First, copy it out dozens of times.
Very well, Marcel.
Don't talk. Stay there.
Yes.
Yes!
Start again.
Yes!
I have created the work conditions
for you to be the tightrope walker
I dream of.
I've installed 7 mirrors
around the ring
at specific heights.
I'll explain why later.
Your wire is 4 metres
above this safety net.
Should you fall,
the protection it offers
is entirely relative.
Wait. One thing before you go up.
Imagine that you're blind,
like in your room a few days ago.
Your wire will be your guide.
And your image in the mirrors,
for the fraction of a second
that you catch it.
I'll try.
I should sleepwalk on the wire?
Franz-Ali, why...
Just before you succeed,
you upset everything.
You destroy it all.
And destroy me while you're about it.
OK, don't get angry.
I didn't hear.
I'm repeating what I read
in your books.
What? Come on, out with it.
You wrote that mirrors
sometimes betray us.
You're getting up my nose!
Do as I asked!
I must look at myself,
knowing that if lose sight
of the wire, I'll fall.
That's hard.
Still that unbearable shift
from dream to reality.
Wait...
My leotard is too tight.
Get used to it.
A leotard like that
magnifies your gestures
and conveys your art
and your sensuality.
- You see yourself in the mirrors?
- I'll look.
I can make myself out.
I'll follow you with a spot...
to make the sequins
on your costume shine.
Setting you ablaze.
See yourself better?
I can't see the wire.
Now can you pick out the wire
and your image?
Yes, Marcel.
But not at the same time.
Don't start, Franz-Ali!
Seriously, I can see that perfectly.
Go on, call him.
Marcel!
Marcel!
Stop messing around.
Get up and go back to it.
Get back on your wire.
Hello.
Are you Marcel Spadice?
That's me.
You know him?
He says he's family by adoption.
Freddy?
Hélène told me where you were.
Riding a stolen bike recklessly.
A big one this time.
He knocked down a policeman.
He's a dangerous repeat offender.
He led us to you.
Just dropping in.
They'd never have caught me
otherwise.
He's under arrest.
For further details,
contact the police station
in Bobigny.
Franz-Ali?
Shit.
It's hazy when I try to remember.
Something always comes first.
It's someone calling you...
from far away.
And the voice pierces my ears.
Wait, yes... I...
I felt like something
was letting me go.
Like I was vanishing.
You wanted me to fall apart.
So I did.
You mocked my writing
on objects that can betray you.
I remember.
What I think is that your shoes,
your leotard, the wire,
the projector,
the safety net
all let you down, literally.
You chose all those accessories.
They came from your Nembutal dreams.
They let me down and they fooled you.
So you betrayed me too.
You're the protagonist of my dreams.
Of my insomnia.
- My waking moments.
- Only partly.
I hadn't yet become
the machine you wanted.
Your creature
was still being finished.
As a tightrope walker,
it would have dropped you.
That would have humiliated you.
The family Messiah
can't allow betrayal
from his disciples.
Only those who have nothing,
or nothing to lose,
can accept treachery.
You own invaluable assets:
genius, fame, fortune.
And an image of yourself
as a fanatical monomaniac.
Woe betide anyone
who tries to reach you.
Freddy is still in jail.
- What happened to him?
- He stole a motorbike.
Knocked down a cop.
It'll be difficult to get him out.
You continue to amaze me.
You want them to release a thief
who's 19 years old?
- He's Boléro's son.
Exactly. Put your proclamations
into practice.
"Abolish social institutions,
"the instruments of redemption.
"Be relentlessly hard,
extremely strict
"towards young delinquents.
"Make fine criminals out of them."
And you want to snatch him
from the jailers' hands?
Freddy steals bikes
from a passion for speed.
A passion for reading
saw you steal books,
even if you sold them.
Only the cruelty of
the prison environment inspired you.
That's what I read.
Freddy would miss a race track
in prison.
Will you get back on the wire?
The doctor will decide.
So you'll never do it.
Not at all, Marcel.
I decided upon a one-legged
tightrope walker routine.
I'll be going.
My trust in you isn't shaken.
Far from it.
Nor is mine.
It'll be all right.
What about the equipment?
It's all tidied away.
Nothing of the leotard must remain:
not its silkiness nor its colour.
Only the dried blood and sweat.
Like the shroud
of a certain crucifix.
How lyrical.
You'll have the tiles flying.
I'm trying, Marcel.
I'm trying as hard as I can
to remain close.
- Hello, Hélène?
- Hello, Marcel.
Remember we talked about
meeting your sister?
I'll take you for lunch with her.
You want to be alone?
- No. I want you there.
- As you wish.
- She won't mind?
- No. She's my big sister.
A friend of the Prime Minister?
Yes.
Her place or a restaurant for lunch?
A restaurant.
Right. I'll arrange that.
Goodbye, Marcel.
Jacques is a very cultured man.
He had a brilliant university career.
He's an eminent sinologist.
An authority on the subject.
And I believe, without boosting
your hopes too much,
that, Prime Minister or not,
he'd be flattered to have
a conversation with you.
Allow me to doubt that.
But if he agreed,
I'd be eternally grateful to him.
Without being indiscreet,
could you tell me what it's about?
If you don't want to...
Once again, it's about helping
one of my young friends.
He was very naughty,
and he was caught.
Say no more.
It's better I know nothing.
I'll arrange that.
Dine with me and Jacques,
and you can bring it up casually.
I must be on my way.
My sister will keep you abreast.
Thank you for this lunch.
Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye, Hélène.
Thank you.
Will she do it?
It would be her supreme achievement.
How is Franz-Ali?
Still in the clinic.
It's going to take a while.
Will he manage to do his routine?
Depends on him.
He's pretty messed up.
But it depends on you.
That's not true.
Franz-Ali is far from stupid.
He's rather like you.
Minus the bourgeois education
and the accent.
He's widely read
and incredibly bright.
What he says often surprises me
as does what he does.
He doesn't just replicate.
He wouldn't have fallen otherwise.
As you wouldn't have damaged your hip
doing as you did,
practising the art of dance
so frenziedly.
What did he say?
How's it going?
OK.
Better.
You seem more reflective
since your fall.
As a good Mediterranean,
you're becoming complacent.
Three months' rehabilitation
is a lot.
I feel better, Marcel.
I'll get over this.
Tomorrow I'll be on the wire.
My ordeal goes on.
In 6 weeks we leave
with a touring circus.
I'll sign you up.
I hope you can stand on a wire.
You're not very encouraging,
Marcel.
He's nothing extraordinary.
I promise he'll get better
with every show.
You'll have a fine high-wire act.
Well, as a favour to you.
Come to my office.
The aim of this tour
is to get you back
to your pre-accident level.
You're lucky to have an audience
for that.
I hope you'll manage.
Do you doubt I will?
I don't have doubts. Just fears.
Ladies and gentlemen,
after a triumph in Canada,
for the first time in the big top
of the Circus Americana,
the fantastic tightrope walker
Franz-Ali Aoussine.
Franz-Ali Aoussine!
Come in.
Sit down.
I've made a decision, Franz.
From now on,
I want your act to be comedy.
- Downright comedy.
- But I don't know...
You've a week to prepare it.
One week.
He's insisting that I do
a comic acrobatics routine.
To amuse the public.
They'll be rolling in the aisles.
By trying to make them laugh,
you'll make them cry
and die of boredom.
Limit yourself to our goal
for this tour.
Eh?
Surpass yourself.
You're a clown.
That's your true nature.
It's your choice:
either you do burlesque
or I fire you.
You clear out without notice.
Tomorrow.
You're a clown.
Coco the Clown.
I raised the wire to 4 metres,
without a safety net.
Tonight I surpass myself.
And I'll make people laugh.
I hope you'll be there to see it.
Franz-Ali Aoussine.
Franz-Ali Aoussine.
Paris?
Hello? Hello?
Hello, Hélène!
Yes, Marcel.
About time you called me.
Why's that?
Your friend Freddy
will be released early.
- When?
- The 14th.
It's the 12th.
Shall I meet him?
No. I'll be there.
Thank you.
I'll run and book a flight.
No, not by plane!
I can't!
Franz-Ali...
you know...
And you know too.
He does it on purpose.
No need to steal,
I'll sign you up for drivers' school,
in England.
- Are you joking?
- Not at all.
You're wonderful.
I couldn't bear it in there.
I know what it's like.
The Prime Minister
arranged your release.
Not many can say that.
Hello?
Hello, Hélène? It's Franz-Ali.
Good evening.
I'm calling from Athens.
I'm in hospital.
I couldn't reach Marcel.
What happened?
I had another fall.
This time they operated.
I'm in plaster.
Immobilized.
Marcel promised 3 weeks ago
to send someone for me.
His agent doesn't know where he is.
I don't know either.
I'm sorry.
Where are you
exactly?
Can you give me your address?
St Sophia Hospital,
the number's 337208.
- I'll see what I can do.
- Thank you.
Yes?
- Hello, Diekmann.
- Hello.
Do you know where Marcel is?
Franz-Ali's looking for him.
In England.
He doesn't want to be disturbed.
Not even for Franz-Ali?
Not even.
You're sure?
Certain.
OK, thanks.
Goodbye, Hélène.
Can you get a cab to the airport?
- I think so.
- I'll send you a ticket.
I'll request someone to help.
You can pay me back in Paris.
I'll meet you at the airport.
Thank you.
Thank you, Hélène.
You're welcome.
"Marcel asked me
to sell the apartment.
"I thought that you'd come back
from Athens,
"your mother would take you in
and you'd move out.
"The days go by..."
Can you take me to the hotel?
Of course.
Might I make a small suggestion?
Go ahead.
What you need isn't a hotel,
it's a clinic.
You shouldn't tire yourself out.
Your ligaments need
to reset in peace.
Or you'll limp
for the rest of your life.
You need someone to look after you
day and night,
someone close.
Hélène, you are kind.
I don't want to go to my mother's
for lots of reasons.
It's silly but I want another chance
with Marcel.
I don't mean that.
I'm not talking about your mother.
I mean come and live with me.
- With you?
- I don't mean...
I just happen to have a guest room.
I know it's not luxury.
You can stay till they take off
the plaster.
It's risky.
Marcel will never forgive you.
Franz-Ali, that hurts.
I know what I'm doing.
Never mind.
He can take it as betrayal,
I don't care.
What's your decision?
Let's go. Let's get out of here.
- Hello, Hélène?
- Yes, Diekmann?
Marcel will call you about Franz-Ali.
When?
He's flying back soon.
He'll call before he does.
He's already tried.
Thank you, Diekmann.
Come.
Come.
Lean on me. Try it.
No, not like that.
Put your arm around my neck.
That's it.
You see? I didn't lie.
Your room has its own entrance.
I'll give you the key.
Your mirror is there.
Come, you must be tired.
Let me help you settle in.
Stretch out.
This plaster must be a burden.
You've been very kind.
Remember the first night
you came to the circus?
When I saw you and you watched me.
It felt like love at first sight.
Shovelling dung in front of you
upset me.
I was naive enough to think
you'd come for me.
Then when I understood
what Marcel made you do,
when I saw you were there
as bait for him,
to solicit guys
and leave them to him,
I was more humiliated
than as a dung shoveller.
But I couldn't stop thinking
about you.
On the contrary.
I had never had a fling with a man.
Now there are two men in me.
Or rather there's him.
There's not much left of what I was.
Nor the one you totally bowled over.
Because that's what it was.
Franz-Ali, please don't take away
the happiness I feel
at helping you,
putting you back on your feet.
What happened to my knee
is less serious than it looks.
- You really want to help?
- You know I do.
I'll do anything I can.
You used to have a manservant.
Isidro?
He left me when my husband did.
When they take the plaster off
and I begin physiotherapy,
until I find a job in the circus,
you can hire me.
I'll do the cleaning, the shopping,
I'll drive you.
I'll move into the maid's room
when I can walk.
Till then, I'd like to be alone,
mostly.
You can't ask for
any greater proof of love.
How could I bear ordering you about
all day in front of my friends?
It would be dreadfully masochistic.
You made me feel terrible.
Maybe you'll revive me.
Let me think about it.
No.
Answer me right now.
OK, Mr Manservant.
That must be Marcel.
What if it's him?
- Tell him I'm at my mother's!
- You're so direct...
You...
Hello? Yes?
Is that Marcel?
You wanted to reach me
for Franz-Ali?
Yes, Marcel.
He's back from his mother's.
He called looking for you.
Stay out of this
if you want to be my friend.
- Let him manage.
- Maybe he needs help.
Don't mess me about!
Forget it.
Very well, Marcel.
Very well.
Will you do a favour for me?
You know I'm your servant.
Would you mind working
for my sister instead of me?
Whatever Madam says.
But I should go and see my mother.
I wonder what state she's in.
Can't you phone her?
She has no phone.
You want me to drive you?
Yes.
That would be nice.
Mutti?
You must have hurt yourself.
We can't leave her like that.
We must do something.
She's had an attack.
I'll take her to the clinic.
Where can we phone?
We passed a café on the right.
I'll go.
I called for an ambulance.
It'll be here in 30 minutes.
In the meantime, I'll tidy up a bit.
Thank you.
Good night.
Here.
Get some rest.
You rest too.
I kept my promise.
You have to make one then keep it
and we're quits.
Which one?
Promise me that,
as soon as you can,
you'll start the project
you have in mind.
I promise.
That's the aim of my physiotherapy.
It's hard to devise
an act that makes you laugh.
My experience of comedy
was usually involuntary.
But it was funny.
Talking of promises...
Could you do me a favour?
What?
I'll iron my uniform,
we'll go downstairs,
and you rehearse me
for my role as chauffeur.
I'll drive you in your Jaguar.
- You really want to humiliate me?
- It's a game.
Don't take me for a fool.
I was fed at the same breast as you.
OK, it's a childish,
Spadice-like scenario.
But it's a game.
I love you, Franz-Ali.
Madam, let us celebrate
- as would the poet -
this victory over him.
Your gloves.
Franzi,
it's funny, mein Kind...
All the time you were in the circus
you never bought anything
for your Mutti.
Now you play the servant.
Finally you can...
I'm not a servant, I'm a chauffeur.
Look at this uniform.
Isn't it smarter than the one
I wore in the ring?
At the circus, you were a bird
that hadn't yet flown.
Now you're a bird
whose wings have been cut.
I've started rehearsals.
I'm doing a clown acrobat act.
I'll grow back my wings.
I'm glad, Franzi,
I'm glad you're with a girl who's...
very nice,
a very good nurse.
I'm glad you're not
with that criminal any more.
But you're like me, Franzi:
alcoholic.
A big alcoholic.
You must be careful,
very careful,
you don't start again.
I don't drink,
but I think of drink all the time.
That's why I brought you
that television.
So you don't think.
Thank you.
The all-powerful
racing car federation
has refused his driver's licence.
You know why?
Freddy has a record.
It's about me.
They hate the prospect
of a queer and a thief
at the track.
What will you do?
- That's where you come in.
- Again.
Don't snivel.
Your team must include
right-wing writers?
- Not at all.
- Come now.
Don't defend yourself.
It's quite normal.
Freddy's father was a former LVF,
Legion of French Volunteers
in the Nazi army.
I brought you photos.
Look.
They're all in SS uniform.
They're the federation leaders.
If they don't want that in the press,
they'd better give him his licence.
I'll be off. Give these
to one of your fascist writers.
Tell him I've lots of copies.
Let's go, Freddy.
Any news of Franz-Ali?
Hélène looked after him.
She found him a job as a chauffeur.
Chauffeur?
The twit!
Chauffeur, you say?
I think so.
For her brother-in-law.
Well done.
Hello, Diekmann? It's Franz-Ali.
Hello, Franz.
I meant to call.
Marcel wants you to go and see him.
- Where?
- At the theatre.
He's there every afternoon.
OK. I know where they rehearse.
I'll drop in.
You were fooled by the fools.
Worse, by bourgeois fools.
- I had to make a living.
- You're as stupid as your bosses.
- Your friend found me the job.
- No friend of mine.
An idiot. Filth!
Never mention her again.
- Don't get angry.
- I'm not angry.
I'll try to drag you out of the mire.
You might earn less,
but you won't be
surrounded by fools.
You'll look after Freddy
with me.
We'll share the work.
He's going to race in Formula 2.
You'll just do what you've been doing
but without your routine.
You'll drive the equipment
from track to track.
I'll explain in detail.
Come and give me
your answer tomorrow.
If you accept,
you leave in two days. Bye.
Franz-Ali?
What did he want?
He offered me a job with him.
- Did you accept?
- He asked me to consider it.
Very well.
I've done some digging.
Before deciding, you should know
what he's hidden from you.
- For example?
- To start with...
Did he say how much the racer
for his darling cost?
- No.
- Did he explain
that he wanted your loyal
- free - service
because he couldn't afford
to pay anyone?
Did he warn you that,
whatever the result
of Freddy's racing career,
you'd be out in 6 months
and no one would want you?
- Who said?
- It doesn't matter.
What matters is,
he wants to dump you
back in the manure,
only this time so you suffocate.
Just when you were getting by.
What will you do, Franz?
I don't want to anger you.
You're the person I love best,
along with my mother.
Marcel was just as angry as you
this afternoon.
He also told me
I was lying in the mud
and he'd get me out.
My choice comes down
to two types of shit.
Which would you choose?
If by shit you mean
the chance you have
to take control of your life,
to do a job you like...
You're no freer than I am.
You know my act was doomed.
No, you're lying, Franz-Ali.
What you lack is courage.
Anyway, just so you know:
if you decide to go,
the day you find yourself
alone, unemployed,
undone once and for all,
Hélène won't be there
to pick up the pieces.
That's so you never want
to go back on your decision.
Because I'll be going
so you don't have to
pick up the pieces again.
You're the only woman I love.
Or will love.
But there it is...
the one who torments me day and night
is Marcel.
You'll draw a bend
on each piece of paper.
This one, that one,
the third, the fourth
and the fifth.
You draw the bend.
Stay angry and surpass yourself.
That's the only way to make it.
Off they go for 48 laps.
Front row:
Babichev, Olivier Lebon...
A tight group
will brake for the first time.
And it looks like Babichev...
Babichev takes the front,
after a trip through the grass.
25 laps.
Three men have pulled away.
Babichev is leading, ahead of Lebon.
The rest are trying to catch
this group of three men who, so far,
have remained in the front.
And a fresh attempt by Babichev
on Olivier Lebon.
But Babichev can't manage
to take first place.
Change of leader.
Babichev is now in front.
He wrested control
from Olivier Lebon.
There are only 5 laps left.
Babichev has a good lead,
whereas behind him,
Lebon must have taken advantage
of a mistake...
New change at the front.
Lebon leads.
Only 2 laps to go.
Overtaking is the key.
"Freddy Babichev
between life and death.
"Favourite badly burned
during Grand Prix."
Now the chips are down, Franz.
Remember our victory over him?
It was only a vain pretence.
There was no exorcism.
For the minimum still to be possible,
fate would have to
take a back seat.
As if it would!
What's wrong?
It's odd.
I felt someone was calling me.
I found us a pretty apartment, Mutti.
You'll be better off there
than anywhere.
We'll move in tomorrow
before they throw us out.
Here.
The sleeping pills you asked for.
Take a big dose and sleep well.
Don't worry about anything.
Rest.
I'll be back
after the intermission.
It's the last.
The circus is no more.
They're building offices.
Don't worry.
We're going to a paradise.
Franzi, forgive your Mutti.
She gave you such a bad life,
a miserable life.
I want to go out as a wrestler:
with mud on me.
As you wish.
"Invitation from Mrs Hélène Lagache.
"Grand gala evening
"to mark the closing
of the Imira Circus.
"Invitation valid...
"for two people."
Look at me.
Like that first night, just once.
Please look at me.
Try.
Film me when I'm picking up the dung.
In close-up.
It's for my mother.
I want her to see.
It'll be etched in her memory.
What better image in a circus?
That's right.
You wouldn't be gay,
would you, sir?
No. You can tell.
That's a shame.
You could have had me
on your team.
As TV's replacing circus,
there's probably some shit
to pick up at home.
With all those trained animals.
Goodbye, sir.
Now for the Borettes
acrobatic troupe.
Good evening.
You remember me?
I don't know.
I remember.
You're Hélène Lagache.
I don't see Franz-Ali.
He went after the intermission.
I'm worried,
he asked for sleeping pills.
Thank you, miss.
Marcel?
You robbed me, Hélène...
Love.
Pain.
The song of my life.
Wanting to live without you
sapped my power.
I didn't manage.
It wasn't your presence
I desperately needed.
I ended up disgusted by it.
It was your absence,
your estrangement.
I wanted you to leave me.
I didn't want you doing,
thinking, living for me.
Within my very being.
I don't want to carry
this corpse around within me.
I've collected so much suffering,
accumulated so much hate for you,
that if I didn't kill you,
I'd have this open wound,
open to all your ferocity,
all your whims.
So I have to kill you...
Me.
As for you, Christa,
you had the courage for your Arab.
You married him
despite your family,
your race, your country.
You didn't abandon your son
as the whore did,
Spadice's mother.
I won't abandon you at my death.
I won't leave you alone
in this world that shunned you.
Subtitles - Eclair Group
The Algerian War...
During the first half,
you have enjoyed...
WALKING A TIGHTROPE
the exceptional juggler Rastello.
The Crooks of the Desert,
presented by El Madji.
Fantastic acrobats, the Zorecs.
Grenetti's Carnival of the Animals.
The extraordinary trapezist,
Daniel Gepellec.
The wonderful Indian elephants
brilliantly trained by Anton Pakar.
That's him.
He's handsome.
Children of all ages,
ladies and gentlemen,
a 15-minute intermission.
Ladies and gentlemen,
a 15-minute intermission.
During the intermission, be sure
to visit the circus menagerie,
and see a fabulous collection
of animals
from all four corners of the world.
I'll be right back.
Isn't that Marcel Spadice
in that box?
That's him.
He's with some slut.
- She must be bait.
- A cock-catcher.
It's Hélène Lagache.
Divorcee.
Sister of Éliane Perron,
banker Émile Perron's wife.
She's an ex-ballerina.
She fell while dancing
the master's ballet.
I think he's this century's
finest poet.
He no longer writes after Cisaire
tore him apart in his book.
Park there.
So that he sees you first
when he comes out.
There he is. Pull forward.
Good night.
Stop.
What shall we do?
Go to the Gare de I'Est.
Soldiers are coming back on leave.
Drive on.
I recognize one of the girls.
She's an usherette.
He's taking them to the bistro.
One day you'll be attacked
by someone
who'll feel insulted
being approached by a pederast.
Not a bit.
I know how to go about it.
It's sad, at my age.
Running these risks
is the price of my failings.
You'd be surprised how few men
refuse to sleep with a queer.
- There are places for that.
I don't like queens.
They make me sick.
And I don't like
prostitutes either,
whether virile or effeminate.
You won't need me
at the Gare de I'Est.
You're right.
It's a spot for a quick fling.
If it doesn't work tonight,
it'll work another time.
I'm boring you with this circus boy.
You're not boring me.
I see why you're keen
Should we go back tomorrow?
I'll call you.
I forgot my Nembutal.
I've none left.
I sleep badly.
Ask your pharmacist.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Do you have a light?
- Were you on the Mulhouse train?
- Yes.
Why?
I took you for a friend of mine.
You look like him.
Oh?
Not as good looking as you,
but almost.
Silly. I had some money for him.
- Waiting for someone?
- My cousin.
Doesn't look like he's coming.
Are you in a hurry?
If not we could go for a drink.
Come on.
Leave this in left luggage.
Morning. Are you Franz-Ali's mother?
I am Mrs Christa Paeffgen Aoussine.
You're his mother?
He's our son.
So I'm his mother.
I hurried over here.
I work with him at the Imira Circus.
He was picked up
in a round-up last night.
A round-up?
Yes. He asked me to tell you.
- What is this?
- The police.
They took him
because he looks Algerian.
They'll let him go.
Where is he now?
At the police station.
I wrote all the details here.
I have to go.
You were hard to find.
Goodbye.
Goodbye. Thank you.
The police will no doubt call on you
to check on what your son told them.
It's best that you know.
Thank you, miss.
Franz-Ali Aoussine.
Hurry along.
Move it.
So your name's
Franz-Ali Aoussine?
Yes, sir.
What resources do you have?
Money. Do you work?
Not now.
I'm a war widow.
Before, I wrestled.
- What?
- A wrestler.
Wrestler.
Answer when I speak to you,
goat-fucker.
My father was in the French army,
a prisoner in Germany.
Look, sir.
Abdallah Aoussine is dead.
I saw a bombing.
American bombing.
My husband...
He died.
Now I can't bear to hear planes.
I don't like it.
Who were you meeting at the bistro?
Nobody.
What were you doing,
far from home at 1am?
I went for a drink after work.
I work at the circus next door.
As what? A clown?
I pick up droppings
after the performing animals number.
Well, you smell of shit anyway
like all Arabs.
- Yes, sir.
Franz-Ali is training
on the high wire.
He wants to become a great artiste.
Sir,
I am a very nice woman.
Very alone.
You are a nice man.
Stop! That's enough!
Written on here
are all the details
for your spotty A-rab.
I don't like the Jerries.
They wiped out the Jews.
But I can't stand their Gretschens
who marry Arabs
and sully their race.
You can't insult me twice,
Mr Policeman.
Because I'm racist and I killed Jews
or because I'm not racist
and I married a dirty Arab!
Can you call Mrs Lagache for me?
This is the number...
During the first half, you enjoyed...
He's not here tonight.
Riding master
Werner Schumann.
- I'll see what's happened.
- Go on.
Magician Karim Khan.
5 francs.
Thank you.
Excuse me, you're friends
with the ring boy.
Which one?
You were with him last night.
Oh yes. What do you want with him?
It's rather tricky.
I'm with a very well-known man.
He wants to speak to him.
Which man?
He writes plays and films.
He loves the circus.
What's his name?
Keep it to yourself.
His name's Marcel Spadice.
Marcel Spadice?
Yes, he often comes here.
He was here last night.
I saw him tonight.
We came together.
Franz-Ali was caught in a round-up
in the local bar.
Do you know where he is?
He's in the 18th precinct
police cells.
He looks Algerian.
Say his name again.
Franz-Ali Aoussine.
Strange name.
He's half-German.
Thank you very much.
He was picked up in a round-up.
They raided the local bar.
They could keep him for ages.
Don't worry, I'll see to it.
Tomorrow morning, or even tonight.
Your husband's a friend
of the prefect
so I thought you could
fix it for him.
Did you tell him
you were coming to me?
Of course, Éliane.
Yes?
I did it, Marcel. They'll release him
tomorrow at noon.
Terrific.
They didn't want to let him go.
There was a bad report on his mother.
She burdened her son.
I'll go to the circus,
and ask his friend to wait
for him at the station
and bring him to the nearest bistro.
- Goodbye, Marcel.
- Goodbye, Hélène.
And thank you.
You're welcome.
I'm glad they released you.
You don't look too well.
It was hard.
Well, you've been really lucky.
You call that luck?
- How did you know I was getting out?
- People looked after you.
But for them,
you'd still be with the cops.
Some have stayed there for months.
But I've done nothing wrong.
Neither had they.
You're telling me stories.
They're waiting for you.
Who is?
You'll see.
There they are.
Go and fetch him.
Go on, Franz-Ali.
That's Marcel Spadice.
He's waiting at that table, there.
Who is he?
A very important man,
well known.
Come and join us.
Sorry, I didn't introduce myself...
You're in the way!
He's a writer.
He got you out of jail.
He intervened with the government.
The cops gave your mother
a bad report.
They went to question her.
Sit down, Franz-Ali.
My name is Marcel.
Since I was told your name,
I looked into you. You're famous.
I didn't know how much...
I'm late, I must be going.
Me too.
I'll give you a lift.
Goodbye, Marcel.
Goodbye, Franz-Ali.
Goodbye, Mr Genius.
Bye, Franzi.
Did the police knock you about?
Yes, a bit.
You'll forget quickly.
You were in there 3 days?
Yes, 3 or 4.
I've spent 3 years in jail, in all.
I just escaped banishment.
You know what that means?
You're worn out. Go and rest.
Yes, I am tired.
You want a rope dancer's routine,
right?
That's right.
I might be able to help you.
When you're rested
come for dinner with me.
We'll talk.
When? Tonight?
Or tomorrow. As you wish.
No. Tonight.
- There's no more hot water.
- Pour some cold on.
More.
That's four times you've soaped.
What did you tell them?
They beat me.
They made me clean the toilets.
I carted their shit.
They stripped me naked
and searched my holes.
They pissed, spat and vomited on me.
What did you tell them?
Were you drunk?
You were plastered?
Raving?
No, Franzi.
I behaved properly.
I made myself smart.
You know, your father used to say,
"Christa, the best form of defence
"is attack."
So I attacked.
Mud-wrestling is my bag.
Why defend yourself?
We've done nothing wrong.
You're an Arab's son.
That's wrong.
This land is at war
against the Arabs.
And that's wrong.
I'm European.
I married an Algerian
and had a child with him.
And that's wrong.
The policeman who came
said he preferred the Nazis
to Christians like me
who marry A-rabs.
And that's wrong too.
There was no point doing all that.
You just got their goat,
in fact.
At least now you know.
I know what?
I can't explain.
You'll just know.
I know at any rate
that the Algerians there
didn't trust me.
I wasn't like them.
I was always alone.
While some tortured me,
the others turned their backs.
You see.
You already know a little.
Maybe you're right.
If they hadn't kept me,
I wouldn't have met the people I met.
What people?
They got me out of
where you put me.
Who are they?
Circus customers.
Very important people.
Especially the gentleman.
The gentleman?
He asked his friends to intervene.
The cops wanted to keep me longer
because of you.
I'll sleep a little, Mutti.
Wake me at 7 o'clock.
Stay in bed, Franzi.
You're tired.
Don't go to work tonight.
It's not for work.
Good evening, gentlemen.
I'll show you through.
- Allow me.
- Thank you.
Have a nice evening.
How long have you been interested
in tightrope walking?
From the age of 14.
You frequented the circus?
My uncle was a stable boy.
I'd go often.
Have you already tried?
Of course. That's all I've done.
What?
- Tried.
- Why?
Before my uncle died,
I went to school till I was 16.
Then I was hired by the Imira Circus.
My uncle asked them.
They sent me on tour.
For more than 2 years,
I couldn't walk the high wire.
We came back a month ago.
But now I'll build my own routine.
Why tightrope walker
and not something else?
Of all the acts I've seen,
it's the one I like best.
I want to do it.
You didn't choose the easiest.
That's why.
I'd sooner starve
than do something that anyone can do.
Born in Solingen?
I've never been.
It's a factory town. Sad.
It's funny.
I never speak to people.
I only answer questions
if I'm forced to.
It's funny to feel I can trust you.
And I can trust you too, Franz.
You'll be the finest tightrope walker
in the world.
I'll help you.
You start tomorrow.
From now on, that's all you'll do.
I've got some savings,
but not much.
You'll pay me back later,
when you're famous,
which you will be.
But there is one thing.
From now on...
nothing matters more than your work.
No family or similar concerns
must distract you.
It's the only way you'll make it.
By cutting yourself off
from the world.
Are you ready?
Yes.
I've organized a very busy week.
Bring your legs underneath.
Stretch, bend, that's it.
Another...
There.
That's good.
You didn't leave the mat.
Now, extension jump.
I'll show you.
Roll, back up and extend.
Go on.
Stop.
Keep your stomach tight
or you'll hurt your back.
Climb high
and clench your stomach muscles.
Go on.
There.
It'll take a lot of effort
to read all these works.
But beyond understanding
each author intellectually,
try to feel his pain.
Make it yours.
As deep as you can bear.
Give me your hand.
Somersault jump.
A little far. Tuck in more.
There.
Balance on my knees.
It'll calm you down.
Take a breather.
Today, a full somersault jump.
Salto mortale.
Magnificent.
Right. That's enough for today.
- Goodbye.
- Thank you.
Come.
You've made encouraging progress.
But you still have a way to go.
The hardest part is ahead.
On your left,
bathrooms and kitchen.
There are still things.
It'll all be over in a week.
I like it.
I am very happy.
Yes?
It's my agent, Diekmann.
- Hello, Mr Diekmann.
- Hello, Marcel.
Élisabeth Haas
has received your manuscript.
She loves the translation!
She's made an offer
of 50,000 dollars for the rights.
- Payable...?
- In 3 tranches: at the signature,
day 1 of rehearsals
and the dress rehearsal.
She guarantees a US tour
if the play's a hit in New York.
The amount's OK,
not the timetable.
Everything up front.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye, Marcel.
It's for the apartment.
I'll make the Yank pay up.
One more time.
Look for it. Catch it.
Come back up.
Look down.
Look for it. Back up.
Here. Look, look.
Back up.
And the splits.
Chest up and stand up again.
About turn on the wire.
And splits with the other leg.
Hold your chest up
and stand up.
Head up and stand.
Back to the platform.
Run along the wire
to the other platform.
It's your life insurance.
About turn. And away.
Keep it up.
Stop, stop.
Start from the end.
Off you go and stop in the middle.
Start from the end. Go on!
Look for it.
And away.
Off you go.
That's enough for today.
I'm happy, Franzi.
Really happy.
You can do the tightrope act
and nothing but that.
Very well.
You've wanted to do this
from being 14.
Very well.
But there's always a price.
I hope it's not too dear.
No dearer than picking up shit
from the ring
instead of tightrope walking.
You're right, Franzi.
But please, don't tightrope walk
with your life.
Don't worry.
I may not balance my life
like you do yours, but I can try.
I know.
My life isn't great. I know.
But I had a son until now.
I hope that I shan't lose him.
You had a shit-shoveller son.
You'll have a tightrope walker.
The greatest, thanks to
the world's greatest genius.
Come and see me sometimes.
I'll come as often as I can.
I'll bring you money.
I don't want any.
Keep the tour money
in your piggybox.
You can spend it.
Buy some beer or some schnapps.
I'm keeping it.
Maybe you'll need it one day.
Come.
That won't do.
It's waste.
Pure technique with no imagination.
Heavy.
It has weighed you down
instead of liberating you.
There's no sensuality in that.
You're a tank
instead of a flying machine.
Like the architecture
of this grotesque edifice
compared to Amiens Cathedral.
You have a choice to make.
Reach for the heights
and take a risk
or stay close to the ground.
But I'll disintegrate.
From now on, I'll be the one
who makes you work.
Time to don your dancing shoes.
You'll dance the tricky steps.
Classical dance.
I've devised a choreography
that's sensual, horny and enchanting.
"Grace falls on its face"
will be the image of your routine.
Thanks.
Don't thank me yet.
It won't be easy.
You can work on your pointes
at the barre.
Go ahead.
Both feet.
Both feet!
Forward.
Go on.
Until the end.
Go on, then.
Now go again.
Forward.
Go on.
Both feet. Move forward.
You know that, in fact,
writing has allowed me to age
from an endless youth
that won't grow old.
I doubt I can sum up
being a writer any better.
Stop.
Marcel...
In your early books,
you glorify gays,
traitors and criminals.
Then you began to sing
of Negroes and Arabs.
How did those
that aren't in this world
appreciate your books?
I don't know and I don't care.
Only my books can answer.
Maybe they shat on them.
Go on, about turn.
About turn.
Go on!
I can't.
- Why?
- Because...
Don't argue. Try.
Go on.
About turn.
Shit!
Fuck it!
Bullshit!
I have to review everything.
My whole conception
of highwire ballet.
I'll have you train
in tightrope slippers.
- On pointes.
- On demi-pointes.
Don't argue, I'll decide.
Go and change shoes.
Change your shoes.
The beauty of this architecture,
is its great severity.
Its breathing is painful,
tumultuous, even.
Yet smiling at the same time.
Look.
This virgin is beautiful.
She looks like an adolescent.
Maybe Our Saviour's mother
was a transvestite.
Only a queer would be capable
of immaculate conception,
of parthenogenesis.
You've never mentioned your mother.
There's nothing to say.
She never existed.
If she'd abandoned me at the altar,
I'd have forgiven her.
But she left me at the hospice door.
She was a prostitute.
At 12, my adoptive parents
left me too.
It was the law. But still.
I was pointed at
and known as the little bastard.
Since then,
they've not stopped pointing
and I did what it took.
I wallowed in abjection,
delinquency,
treason.
And I shouted it out.
I know you don't like my mother.
I can't love son and mother
at the same time.
Do I have to explain why?
No, don't bother.
Deploy from the knee.
Two steps: one, two.
Two steps.
Battement ciseaux.
Face straight ahead.
Battement de cloche.
Demi-tour sur demi-pointe.
Stabilized arabesque.
Okay, go again.
Go on!
Right.
Two steps.
One, two, battement ciseaux.
Careful. Battement de cloche.
Demi-tour sur demi-pointe.
Stabilize.
Arabesque.
Christ, be careful!
Work!
Grace.
Look at me!
Think about what you're doing.
Look at yourself.
Try to be better.
Are you imagining? Imagine!
Don't look at me.
Look at your rope. The wire.
I'm going.
Stop. I didn't say begin.
Franz-Ali?
Come here.
Yes, Marcel.
I noted all these figures
and all these drawings
so you could do them in the darkness
of your room.
As if each of these elements was you.
Don't bother about their meaning
or the figures.
You have to assimilate and then
reproduce the outline of each
without thinking about it.
Without even having to remember.
First, copy it out dozens of times.
Very well, Marcel.
Don't talk. Stay there.
Yes.
Yes!
Start again.
Yes!
I have created the work conditions
for you to be the tightrope walker
I dream of.
I've installed 7 mirrors
around the ring
at specific heights.
I'll explain why later.
Your wire is 4 metres
above this safety net.
Should you fall,
the protection it offers
is entirely relative.
Wait. One thing before you go up.
Imagine that you're blind,
like in your room a few days ago.
Your wire will be your guide.
And your image in the mirrors,
for the fraction of a second
that you catch it.
I'll try.
I should sleepwalk on the wire?
Franz-Ali, why...
Just before you succeed,
you upset everything.
You destroy it all.
And destroy me while you're about it.
OK, don't get angry.
I didn't hear.
I'm repeating what I read
in your books.
What? Come on, out with it.
You wrote that mirrors
sometimes betray us.
You're getting up my nose!
Do as I asked!
I must look at myself,
knowing that if lose sight
of the wire, I'll fall.
That's hard.
Still that unbearable shift
from dream to reality.
Wait...
My leotard is too tight.
Get used to it.
A leotard like that
magnifies your gestures
and conveys your art
and your sensuality.
- You see yourself in the mirrors?
- I'll look.
I can make myself out.
I'll follow you with a spot...
to make the sequins
on your costume shine.
Setting you ablaze.
See yourself better?
I can't see the wire.
Now can you pick out the wire
and your image?
Yes, Marcel.
But not at the same time.
Don't start, Franz-Ali!
Seriously, I can see that perfectly.
Go on, call him.
Marcel!
Marcel!
Stop messing around.
Get up and go back to it.
Get back on your wire.
Hello.
Are you Marcel Spadice?
That's me.
You know him?
He says he's family by adoption.
Freddy?
Hélène told me where you were.
Riding a stolen bike recklessly.
A big one this time.
He knocked down a policeman.
He's a dangerous repeat offender.
He led us to you.
Just dropping in.
They'd never have caught me
otherwise.
He's under arrest.
For further details,
contact the police station
in Bobigny.
Franz-Ali?
Shit.
It's hazy when I try to remember.
Something always comes first.
It's someone calling you...
from far away.
And the voice pierces my ears.
Wait, yes... I...
I felt like something
was letting me go.
Like I was vanishing.
You wanted me to fall apart.
So I did.
You mocked my writing
on objects that can betray you.
I remember.
What I think is that your shoes,
your leotard, the wire,
the projector,
the safety net
all let you down, literally.
You chose all those accessories.
They came from your Nembutal dreams.
They let me down and they fooled you.
So you betrayed me too.
You're the protagonist of my dreams.
Of my insomnia.
- My waking moments.
- Only partly.
I hadn't yet become
the machine you wanted.
Your creature
was still being finished.
As a tightrope walker,
it would have dropped you.
That would have humiliated you.
The family Messiah
can't allow betrayal
from his disciples.
Only those who have nothing,
or nothing to lose,
can accept treachery.
You own invaluable assets:
genius, fame, fortune.
And an image of yourself
as a fanatical monomaniac.
Woe betide anyone
who tries to reach you.
Freddy is still in jail.
- What happened to him?
- He stole a motorbike.
Knocked down a cop.
It'll be difficult to get him out.
You continue to amaze me.
You want them to release a thief
who's 19 years old?
- He's Boléro's son.
Exactly. Put your proclamations
into practice.
"Abolish social institutions,
"the instruments of redemption.
"Be relentlessly hard,
extremely strict
"towards young delinquents.
"Make fine criminals out of them."
And you want to snatch him
from the jailers' hands?
Freddy steals bikes
from a passion for speed.
A passion for reading
saw you steal books,
even if you sold them.
Only the cruelty of
the prison environment inspired you.
That's what I read.
Freddy would miss a race track
in prison.
Will you get back on the wire?
The doctor will decide.
So you'll never do it.
Not at all, Marcel.
I decided upon a one-legged
tightrope walker routine.
I'll be going.
My trust in you isn't shaken.
Far from it.
Nor is mine.
It'll be all right.
What about the equipment?
It's all tidied away.
Nothing of the leotard must remain:
not its silkiness nor its colour.
Only the dried blood and sweat.
Like the shroud
of a certain crucifix.
How lyrical.
You'll have the tiles flying.
I'm trying, Marcel.
I'm trying as hard as I can
to remain close.
- Hello, Hélène?
- Hello, Marcel.
Remember we talked about
meeting your sister?
I'll take you for lunch with her.
You want to be alone?
- No. I want you there.
- As you wish.
- She won't mind?
- No. She's my big sister.
A friend of the Prime Minister?
Yes.
Her place or a restaurant for lunch?
A restaurant.
Right. I'll arrange that.
Goodbye, Marcel.
Jacques is a very cultured man.
He had a brilliant university career.
He's an eminent sinologist.
An authority on the subject.
And I believe, without boosting
your hopes too much,
that, Prime Minister or not,
he'd be flattered to have
a conversation with you.
Allow me to doubt that.
But if he agreed,
I'd be eternally grateful to him.
Without being indiscreet,
could you tell me what it's about?
If you don't want to...
Once again, it's about helping
one of my young friends.
He was very naughty,
and he was caught.
Say no more.
It's better I know nothing.
I'll arrange that.
Dine with me and Jacques,
and you can bring it up casually.
I must be on my way.
My sister will keep you abreast.
Thank you for this lunch.
Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye, Hélène.
Thank you.
Will she do it?
It would be her supreme achievement.
How is Franz-Ali?
Still in the clinic.
It's going to take a while.
Will he manage to do his routine?
Depends on him.
He's pretty messed up.
But it depends on you.
That's not true.
Franz-Ali is far from stupid.
He's rather like you.
Minus the bourgeois education
and the accent.
He's widely read
and incredibly bright.
What he says often surprises me
as does what he does.
He doesn't just replicate.
He wouldn't have fallen otherwise.
As you wouldn't have damaged your hip
doing as you did,
practising the art of dance
so frenziedly.
What did he say?
How's it going?
OK.
Better.
You seem more reflective
since your fall.
As a good Mediterranean,
you're becoming complacent.
Three months' rehabilitation
is a lot.
I feel better, Marcel.
I'll get over this.
Tomorrow I'll be on the wire.
My ordeal goes on.
In 6 weeks we leave
with a touring circus.
I'll sign you up.
I hope you can stand on a wire.
You're not very encouraging,
Marcel.
He's nothing extraordinary.
I promise he'll get better
with every show.
You'll have a fine high-wire act.
Well, as a favour to you.
Come to my office.
The aim of this tour
is to get you back
to your pre-accident level.
You're lucky to have an audience
for that.
I hope you'll manage.
Do you doubt I will?
I don't have doubts. Just fears.
Ladies and gentlemen,
after a triumph in Canada,
for the first time in the big top
of the Circus Americana,
the fantastic tightrope walker
Franz-Ali Aoussine.
Franz-Ali Aoussine!
Come in.
Sit down.
I've made a decision, Franz.
From now on,
I want your act to be comedy.
- Downright comedy.
- But I don't know...
You've a week to prepare it.
One week.
He's insisting that I do
a comic acrobatics routine.
To amuse the public.
They'll be rolling in the aisles.
By trying to make them laugh,
you'll make them cry
and die of boredom.
Limit yourself to our goal
for this tour.
Eh?
Surpass yourself.
You're a clown.
That's your true nature.
It's your choice:
either you do burlesque
or I fire you.
You clear out without notice.
Tomorrow.
You're a clown.
Coco the Clown.
I raised the wire to 4 metres,
without a safety net.
Tonight I surpass myself.
And I'll make people laugh.
I hope you'll be there to see it.
Franz-Ali Aoussine.
Franz-Ali Aoussine.
Paris?
Hello? Hello?
Hello, Hélène!
Yes, Marcel.
About time you called me.
Why's that?
Your friend Freddy
will be released early.
- When?
- The 14th.
It's the 12th.
Shall I meet him?
No. I'll be there.
Thank you.
I'll run and book a flight.
No, not by plane!
I can't!
Franz-Ali...
you know...
And you know too.
He does it on purpose.
No need to steal,
I'll sign you up for drivers' school,
in England.
- Are you joking?
- Not at all.
You're wonderful.
I couldn't bear it in there.
I know what it's like.
The Prime Minister
arranged your release.
Not many can say that.
Hello?
Hello, Hélène? It's Franz-Ali.
Good evening.
I'm calling from Athens.
I'm in hospital.
I couldn't reach Marcel.
What happened?
I had another fall.
This time they operated.
I'm in plaster.
Immobilized.
Marcel promised 3 weeks ago
to send someone for me.
His agent doesn't know where he is.
I don't know either.
I'm sorry.
Where are you
exactly?
Can you give me your address?
St Sophia Hospital,
the number's 337208.
- I'll see what I can do.
- Thank you.
Yes?
- Hello, Diekmann.
- Hello.
Do you know where Marcel is?
Franz-Ali's looking for him.
In England.
He doesn't want to be disturbed.
Not even for Franz-Ali?
Not even.
You're sure?
Certain.
OK, thanks.
Goodbye, Hélène.
Can you get a cab to the airport?
- I think so.
- I'll send you a ticket.
I'll request someone to help.
You can pay me back in Paris.
I'll meet you at the airport.
Thank you.
Thank you, Hélène.
You're welcome.
"Marcel asked me
to sell the apartment.
"I thought that you'd come back
from Athens,
"your mother would take you in
and you'd move out.
"The days go by..."
Can you take me to the hotel?
Of course.
Might I make a small suggestion?
Go ahead.
What you need isn't a hotel,
it's a clinic.
You shouldn't tire yourself out.
Your ligaments need
to reset in peace.
Or you'll limp
for the rest of your life.
You need someone to look after you
day and night,
someone close.
Hélène, you are kind.
I don't want to go to my mother's
for lots of reasons.
It's silly but I want another chance
with Marcel.
I don't mean that.
I'm not talking about your mother.
I mean come and live with me.
- With you?
- I don't mean...
I just happen to have a guest room.
I know it's not luxury.
You can stay till they take off
the plaster.
It's risky.
Marcel will never forgive you.
Franz-Ali, that hurts.
I know what I'm doing.
Never mind.
He can take it as betrayal,
I don't care.
What's your decision?
Let's go. Let's get out of here.
- Hello, Hélène?
- Yes, Diekmann?
Marcel will call you about Franz-Ali.
When?
He's flying back soon.
He'll call before he does.
He's already tried.
Thank you, Diekmann.
Come.
Come.
Lean on me. Try it.
No, not like that.
Put your arm around my neck.
That's it.
You see? I didn't lie.
Your room has its own entrance.
I'll give you the key.
Your mirror is there.
Come, you must be tired.
Let me help you settle in.
Stretch out.
This plaster must be a burden.
You've been very kind.
Remember the first night
you came to the circus?
When I saw you and you watched me.
It felt like love at first sight.
Shovelling dung in front of you
upset me.
I was naive enough to think
you'd come for me.
Then when I understood
what Marcel made you do,
when I saw you were there
as bait for him,
to solicit guys
and leave them to him,
I was more humiliated
than as a dung shoveller.
But I couldn't stop thinking
about you.
On the contrary.
I had never had a fling with a man.
Now there are two men in me.
Or rather there's him.
There's not much left of what I was.
Nor the one you totally bowled over.
Because that's what it was.
Franz-Ali, please don't take away
the happiness I feel
at helping you,
putting you back on your feet.
What happened to my knee
is less serious than it looks.
- You really want to help?
- You know I do.
I'll do anything I can.
You used to have a manservant.
Isidro?
He left me when my husband did.
When they take the plaster off
and I begin physiotherapy,
until I find a job in the circus,
you can hire me.
I'll do the cleaning, the shopping,
I'll drive you.
I'll move into the maid's room
when I can walk.
Till then, I'd like to be alone,
mostly.
You can't ask for
any greater proof of love.
How could I bear ordering you about
all day in front of my friends?
It would be dreadfully masochistic.
You made me feel terrible.
Maybe you'll revive me.
Let me think about it.
No.
Answer me right now.
OK, Mr Manservant.
That must be Marcel.
What if it's him?
- Tell him I'm at my mother's!
- You're so direct...
You...
Hello? Yes?
Is that Marcel?
You wanted to reach me
for Franz-Ali?
Yes, Marcel.
He's back from his mother's.
He called looking for you.
Stay out of this
if you want to be my friend.
- Let him manage.
- Maybe he needs help.
Don't mess me about!
Forget it.
Very well, Marcel.
Very well.
Will you do a favour for me?
You know I'm your servant.
Would you mind working
for my sister instead of me?
Whatever Madam says.
But I should go and see my mother.
I wonder what state she's in.
Can't you phone her?
She has no phone.
You want me to drive you?
Yes.
That would be nice.
Mutti?
You must have hurt yourself.
We can't leave her like that.
We must do something.
She's had an attack.
I'll take her to the clinic.
Where can we phone?
We passed a café on the right.
I'll go.
I called for an ambulance.
It'll be here in 30 minutes.
In the meantime, I'll tidy up a bit.
Thank you.
Good night.
Here.
Get some rest.
You rest too.
I kept my promise.
You have to make one then keep it
and we're quits.
Which one?
Promise me that,
as soon as you can,
you'll start the project
you have in mind.
I promise.
That's the aim of my physiotherapy.
It's hard to devise
an act that makes you laugh.
My experience of comedy
was usually involuntary.
But it was funny.
Talking of promises...
Could you do me a favour?
What?
I'll iron my uniform,
we'll go downstairs,
and you rehearse me
for my role as chauffeur.
I'll drive you in your Jaguar.
- You really want to humiliate me?
- It's a game.
Don't take me for a fool.
I was fed at the same breast as you.
OK, it's a childish,
Spadice-like scenario.
But it's a game.
I love you, Franz-Ali.
Madam, let us celebrate
- as would the poet -
this victory over him.
Your gloves.
Franzi,
it's funny, mein Kind...
All the time you were in the circus
you never bought anything
for your Mutti.
Now you play the servant.
Finally you can...
I'm not a servant, I'm a chauffeur.
Look at this uniform.
Isn't it smarter than the one
I wore in the ring?
At the circus, you were a bird
that hadn't yet flown.
Now you're a bird
whose wings have been cut.
I've started rehearsals.
I'm doing a clown acrobat act.
I'll grow back my wings.
I'm glad, Franzi,
I'm glad you're with a girl who's...
very nice,
a very good nurse.
I'm glad you're not
with that criminal any more.
But you're like me, Franzi:
alcoholic.
A big alcoholic.
You must be careful,
very careful,
you don't start again.
I don't drink,
but I think of drink all the time.
That's why I brought you
that television.
So you don't think.
Thank you.
The all-powerful
racing car federation
has refused his driver's licence.
You know why?
Freddy has a record.
It's about me.
They hate the prospect
of a queer and a thief
at the track.
What will you do?
- That's where you come in.
- Again.
Don't snivel.
Your team must include
right-wing writers?
- Not at all.
- Come now.
Don't defend yourself.
It's quite normal.
Freddy's father was a former LVF,
Legion of French Volunteers
in the Nazi army.
I brought you photos.
Look.
They're all in SS uniform.
They're the federation leaders.
If they don't want that in the press,
they'd better give him his licence.
I'll be off. Give these
to one of your fascist writers.
Tell him I've lots of copies.
Let's go, Freddy.
Any news of Franz-Ali?
Hélène looked after him.
She found him a job as a chauffeur.
Chauffeur?
The twit!
Chauffeur, you say?
I think so.
For her brother-in-law.
Well done.
Hello, Diekmann? It's Franz-Ali.
Hello, Franz.
I meant to call.
Marcel wants you to go and see him.
- Where?
- At the theatre.
He's there every afternoon.
OK. I know where they rehearse.
I'll drop in.
You were fooled by the fools.
Worse, by bourgeois fools.
- I had to make a living.
- You're as stupid as your bosses.
- Your friend found me the job.
- No friend of mine.
An idiot. Filth!
Never mention her again.
- Don't get angry.
- I'm not angry.
I'll try to drag you out of the mire.
You might earn less,
but you won't be
surrounded by fools.
You'll look after Freddy
with me.
We'll share the work.
He's going to race in Formula 2.
You'll just do what you've been doing
but without your routine.
You'll drive the equipment
from track to track.
I'll explain in detail.
Come and give me
your answer tomorrow.
If you accept,
you leave in two days. Bye.
Franz-Ali?
What did he want?
He offered me a job with him.
- Did you accept?
- He asked me to consider it.
Very well.
I've done some digging.
Before deciding, you should know
what he's hidden from you.
- For example?
- To start with...
Did he say how much the racer
for his darling cost?
- No.
- Did he explain
that he wanted your loyal
- free - service
because he couldn't afford
to pay anyone?
Did he warn you that,
whatever the result
of Freddy's racing career,
you'd be out in 6 months
and no one would want you?
- Who said?
- It doesn't matter.
What matters is,
he wants to dump you
back in the manure,
only this time so you suffocate.
Just when you were getting by.
What will you do, Franz?
I don't want to anger you.
You're the person I love best,
along with my mother.
Marcel was just as angry as you
this afternoon.
He also told me
I was lying in the mud
and he'd get me out.
My choice comes down
to two types of shit.
Which would you choose?
If by shit you mean
the chance you have
to take control of your life,
to do a job you like...
You're no freer than I am.
You know my act was doomed.
No, you're lying, Franz-Ali.
What you lack is courage.
Anyway, just so you know:
if you decide to go,
the day you find yourself
alone, unemployed,
undone once and for all,
Hélène won't be there
to pick up the pieces.
That's so you never want
to go back on your decision.
Because I'll be going
so you don't have to
pick up the pieces again.
You're the only woman I love.
Or will love.
But there it is...
the one who torments me day and night
is Marcel.
You'll draw a bend
on each piece of paper.
This one, that one,
the third, the fourth
and the fifth.
You draw the bend.
Stay angry and surpass yourself.
That's the only way to make it.
Off they go for 48 laps.
Front row:
Babichev, Olivier Lebon...
A tight group
will brake for the first time.
And it looks like Babichev...
Babichev takes the front,
after a trip through the grass.
25 laps.
Three men have pulled away.
Babichev is leading, ahead of Lebon.
The rest are trying to catch
this group of three men who, so far,
have remained in the front.
And a fresh attempt by Babichev
on Olivier Lebon.
But Babichev can't manage
to take first place.
Change of leader.
Babichev is now in front.
He wrested control
from Olivier Lebon.
There are only 5 laps left.
Babichev has a good lead,
whereas behind him,
Lebon must have taken advantage
of a mistake...
New change at the front.
Lebon leads.
Only 2 laps to go.
Overtaking is the key.
"Freddy Babichev
between life and death.
"Favourite badly burned
during Grand Prix."
Now the chips are down, Franz.
Remember our victory over him?
It was only a vain pretence.
There was no exorcism.
For the minimum still to be possible,
fate would have to
take a back seat.
As if it would!
What's wrong?
It's odd.
I felt someone was calling me.
I found us a pretty apartment, Mutti.
You'll be better off there
than anywhere.
We'll move in tomorrow
before they throw us out.
Here.
The sleeping pills you asked for.
Take a big dose and sleep well.
Don't worry about anything.
Rest.
I'll be back
after the intermission.
It's the last.
The circus is no more.
They're building offices.
Don't worry.
We're going to a paradise.
Franzi, forgive your Mutti.
She gave you such a bad life,
a miserable life.
I want to go out as a wrestler:
with mud on me.
As you wish.
"Invitation from Mrs Hélène Lagache.
"Grand gala evening
"to mark the closing
of the Imira Circus.
"Invitation valid...
"for two people."
Look at me.
Like that first night, just once.
Please look at me.
Try.
Film me when I'm picking up the dung.
In close-up.
It's for my mother.
I want her to see.
It'll be etched in her memory.
What better image in a circus?
That's right.
You wouldn't be gay,
would you, sir?
No. You can tell.
That's a shame.
You could have had me
on your team.
As TV's replacing circus,
there's probably some shit
to pick up at home.
With all those trained animals.
Goodbye, sir.
Now for the Borettes
acrobatic troupe.
Good evening.
You remember me?
I don't know.
I remember.
You're Hélène Lagache.
I don't see Franz-Ali.
He went after the intermission.
I'm worried,
he asked for sleeping pills.
Thank you, miss.
Marcel?
You robbed me, Hélène...
Love.
Pain.
The song of my life.
Wanting to live without you
sapped my power.
I didn't manage.
It wasn't your presence
I desperately needed.
I ended up disgusted by it.
It was your absence,
your estrangement.
I wanted you to leave me.
I didn't want you doing,
thinking, living for me.
Within my very being.
I don't want to carry
this corpse around within me.
I've collected so much suffering,
accumulated so much hate for you,
that if I didn't kill you,
I'd have this open wound,
open to all your ferocity,
all your whims.
So I have to kill you...
Me.
As for you, Christa,
you had the courage for your Arab.
You married him
despite your family,
your race, your country.
You didn't abandon your son
as the whore did,
Spadice's mother.
I won't abandon you at my death.
I won't leave you alone
in this world that shunned you.
Subtitles - Eclair Group