- Everything you asked for is in here. - Thank you.
Only two things can turn a shitty day into a wonderful one.
The first is love. And the truth is, that wasn't the case that day.
My third wife had just left me.
The second is loot worth more than 10 million euros.
But that also wasn't the case.
We were going to steal the link to a much bigger heist.
Today's job was simple.
But if you're having a bad day,
you might end up putting a poor bastard on his knees
and pointing a gun at his head.
This is my crew.
One of the three I've robbed with in my life.
But this one's special. We go back to my golden age.
Back when I had no clue I was sick,
when I wasn't locked up in the Royal Mint, my life hanging by a thread.
This is Keila. Electronic engineer. Graduated cum laude.
An electronic engineering genius.
There's only one thing bigger than her brain.
Her pathological shyness.
Roi.
He's great at opening locks and getting locked up.
He hated his life and now thinks of me as the father he never had.
I think of him as my loyal dog that I take for walks every day.
It was love at first sight for us both.
Damián.
A moonlighter.
Professor by day and criminal mastermind in his free time.
Like all geniuses, he's pretty scatterbrained.
Bruce, our jack-of-all-trades.
He can handle anything. Weapons, mobile cranes, and thermal lances.
You might guess there's not ten microns of gray matter in his brain…
but you'd be wrong.
Thank you.
Let's see. Mr. Antonio Vals, please?
Yes, that's me.
This is a warrant. Come with me, please.
What are the charges exactly?
Expropriation of historical heritage, antique smuggling,
concealment of assets.
Charges that'll land you more than nine years in prison.
They aren't the police.
Something's up.
Open that door.
Open that glass cabinet.
Excuse me. Yes, you. You're not a police officer, are you?
Neither are you.
What's going on here?
Come on. What is going on here?
Picture yourself in the prison showers, telling your cellmates about Etruscan art,
holding a bar of soap in your hand…
Today's your lucky day. I'm not a police officer.
I won't report you to the police. In exchange, I'll be taking this cup.
Consider it our little secret.
I demand to speak with your superior.
- Take a seat. - Don't touch me.
Show me your badge and badge number. Who's in charge?
Who's raising their voice?
Hey! Me.
What are you doing here? You have no right to come in here.
I know Superintendent Morán. I'm going to talk to him.
Fine. Get your phone out, please. Let's talk with him on speakerphone.
Of course.
Put it on the table.
I'll unlock it.
Too bad. No signal.
You wanted to see my badge, right?
Here you go. The Beretta M9.
Here's my other badge.
Parabellum, eight projectiles.
Would you like to see another badge?
No. That won't be necessary, sir.
Graveyards are full of idiots who chose the wrong day to play the hero.
Just in case someone feels the urge to report this exciting soirée,
please show us your IDs so we can take note of where you live.
Come on.
And you're coming with us.
- This is when your head starts to spin. - No!
Can you feel it? The knot in your stomach.
Your mouth is all dry.
Yes.
You should've thought twice
before treating me like shit to play the hero in front of who?
- Your wife? - No.
No, in front of…
your girlfriend?
I didn't mean to raise my voice. I got nervous.
- I swear. - How long have you known her?
A couple of months.
Do you realize what you've done?
No.
The best part about love is that it brings out the best in us.
Even for scum like you, begging on your knees.
Just moments ago, you were a hero yelling at me.
But love doesn't last, you idiot.
Love doesn't last.
It's not worth losing your life over it.
There's a new girl in the gang.
You said there'd be five of us. What can she do?
She's just here to watch and keep quiet. Think of it as an internship for thieves.
She's… Sorry. What name did you choose again?
Cameron.
She lives and drives to the max. She is pure adrenaline.
But she's not here because of any of that.
She's here because of something much more painful.
Could you take a seat with your new colleagues, please?
You're probably wondering what we're doing in this Parisian hotel.
What are we doing in this remarkable place other than enjoy…?
Well, we're at this hotel to study a heist that will put all of Europe in check.
It all began ten days ago in Madrid, when we stole this.
A fourth-century chalice.
A masterpiece of French sacred art.
It's worth 40,000 euros just as it is.
But now, we're going to make it worth 44 million.
Damián?
It is merely a stepping stone to stealing 44 million in jewels.
This will be our big magic trick.
How to turn this chalice into 63 European royal-family jewels,
scattered around the world in 34 cities.
Zurich, Vienna, Milan, Saint Petersburg…
Well, it's gonna take some time to steal from 34 cities.
Actually, we have one evening.
But first, we have to age this bronze relic
with ammonium chloride.
Father Toureaux,
I'm Professor Santana
from the Polytechnic University of Salamanca.
Professor Vázquez, expert in French sacred art.
The rest are in charge of GPR and excavations.
Nice to meet you.
- You speak Spanish? - My mother is Spanish.
- Wonderful. - I know who you are.
I looked you up online.
He'll probably find over 650 different pages of content
I put online about our archeological work.
Excavations, out-of-print books, scientific magazines, discoveries, awards…
Come with me, please.
With pleasure.
Good morning, guys. You're doing a fantastic job.
Could you please leave us alone for a moment?
We're helping ex-convicts reintegrate. These men are on work release.
We offer them a job here to make their second chance
in society easier.
Wonderful work.
Yes. And very pious too, Father.
In the archives of the Cathedral of Santiago,
we found documents that reference an old church
located in this very spot.
This reference made by pilgrims appears again in a Benedictine codex.
We'll overwhelm him with documents and Latin so he won't have time to think.
And in the Saint-Martin-des-Champs codex.
Here, where it says, "Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi."
I don't understand.
This codex is from the fifth century, but my church was erected in 1240.
If our findings are correct, the oldest church in Paris
wouldn't be the St-Germain-des-Prés abbey…
but the one under your feet.
What happens when a priest, who is in love with his church, is told
he may have a priceless treasure under his feet?
He gets as horny as hell.
Since you brought the GPR with you, why don't we go down to the crypt with it?
What do you think?
Wait.
The GPR has detected foundations.
The thing is, no matter how hard people try,
no one can make heads or tails of the GPR screen.
At about 16 feet underground.
So Father Toureaux will watch us,
looking for clues to understand what's going on.
He'll see our eyes glistening. Our restrained emotion.
He'll feel like he's witnessing a historical moment.
Those look like ashlars.
That could be a semicircular arch.
And right when he starts to taste victory…
we burst his bubble.
It's not clear.
What's not clear?
Just because the GPR detected remains doesn't mean there's something there.
We need more evidence to set up an excavation.
We need him to have unwavering faith in us.
We can't set up a fake archaeological excavation based solely on his excitement.
We need something tangible for that.
And why do we want to set up a fake excavation in a crypt?
Because this crypt has a hidden entrance…
…to the catacombs of Paris.
186 miles of tunnels, 66 feet underground,
that give us access to the entire city.
We… want to reach this exact spot…
right here.
150 feet from the crypt.
Where every aristocratic family in Europe will have sent their jewels
for Uncle Berlin to take home.
And what's there? A bank vault?
- No. - A museum?
No.
One of the top auction houses in all of Paris.
There's only one problem.
What's that?
The jewels won't be sent all at once.
They'll arrive little by little from those 34 cities.
Wait. Then how can we steal them in one single evening?
By finding the last shipment date. That's why we're here.
In this hotel.
Auction house director Monsieur Polignac lives across the street.
He's the only one who knows the exact time and date.
- Want to try a new hairstyle? - I'm fine. Thanks.
- You sure? - Yes.
Do we really need to get this dressed up?
Keila, many robbers have the silly habit of dressing
like robbers or in comfy clothes.
Like people who wear sweatpants to the airport.
But if you plan to open a door lock in a fancy Parisian neighborhood,
you have to look the part.
Don't you agree?
And with this cake, who'd ever think you're robbers?
Are you wearing a bow?
Roi, what I'm about to say may surprise you.
There are lines you can't cross, even in love.
I saw you and your puppy eyes looking at Cameron.
No, not at all.
She looked at me. I looked away.
Great. If she looks at you and you look away, then you've got it.
That girl's had a laundry list of dramas. Now's not the time to talk about it.
One of them being her admission to a psychiatric ward.
As I'm no father figure, you're going to be one for her.
I want you to look after her.
But don't look at her tattoos
and keep a sensible and respectful distance.
Do you understand what I'm saying?
Yes, sir.
Great.
Listen up. They're leaving their house.
We need to hurry.
Bruce, follow them in case they decide to come back.
You two look very tense.
You're a couple going to a party,
not a funeral home.
You're leaning on me. I can't reach it.
I'm covering you. Two people are coming.
I can't reach.
I'm trying to get a skeleton key into an 11-millimeter hole.
- What are you doing? - Let's see if you can reach it now.
Door open.
Keila, it's your turn.
Check the stairs, Roi.
There are three locks.
Look out. A neighbor's out front.
Hurry!
Here.
Done.
First.
Second.
Cameron.
6, 5, 7, 8.
Open.
Are you getting a signal?
Got you.
Okay. Got me?
Got you.
All 12 are live. Everyone out.
We're ready.
Hide.
Fuck. Someone's coming.
The alarm, Keila.
Let's go, Milo.
Let's go find Quentin. Quentin! Where are you?
Calm down.
There you are. Want to play, naughty boy?
Come on. Let's go, Milo.
Out.
Come here. Come on. Let's go.
Come.
Come here.
Come here. Come on, Milo.
Let's go.
He's gone.
What kind of boots are those, musketeer?
Okay. The guy is outside. You can leave.
- Can we talk? - Sure. Come in.
No. I'd rather stay here.
I'm all ears.
I wanted to say this earlier, but we were miked.
When I was picking the lock and you grabbed my butt,
you crossed the line.
Don't take it personally. I don't have a problem with you.
I'd just prefer that we keep our relationship… professional.
It was professional. I was helping you open a lock.
But no worries. Message received. Au revoir.
I saw you in the mirror too. You watched me while I changed.
That was weird, wasn't it?
I was taking a suggestive mental image.
Sometimes I wake up at night
and finger myself
to get back to sleep.
There are pills for that.
Oh, really?
For insomnia, I mean.
Great. Noted.
Anything else?
I don't want there to be any misunderstanding.
"Misunderstanding"?
Like a relationship or an attempt at one. Or the assumption that we could have one.
Right.
My last relationship was…
my first one.
Since then, all I see in a guy
when I hook up with him is his expiration date.
Here, right on his forehead.
October 25th.
So, don't worry. There will be no misunderstandings.
- So we're clear, then. - Crystal clear.
Why don't you head down to the lobby for a milkshake?
You look so sophisticated in these Harry Potter glasses.
They're fake.
They make me look cool.
- Berlin gave them to me. - Oh, Berlin.
We've been friends for a while. I'm his lieutenant.
Do you do everything he wants?
Did he tell you to clear things up with me?
You're so obedient.
He asked me to do one more thing. He asked me to be your babysitter.
Because it seems you have a screw loose.
So, behave yourself. Okay?
Or no milkshake for you.
Good night, Mister Lieutenant.
Any news?
They're asleep. What are you doing up?
I can't sleep.
Have you heard from her?
Well, I have her lawyer's address and her bank account number.
A third divorce is harder than the first, but you've got to stay positive.
Maybe it had to end for a reason.
I've been with my wife for 24 years.
I had to go through two shitty relationships before I met her.
- The love of your life makes you wait. - Please don't say that.
"The love of your life" is just some fairy tale.
I hate to be the one to break it to you, but…
love fades away.
It only makes sense at the beginning
when everything is marvelous.
When every song reminds you of her.
When you tell her absolutely everything over dinner
and you can't stop smiling.
No. Love is what comes after that.
When the spell is over.
When you can sit in silence during dinner because you're at peace.
You can read each other's thoughts with one look.
How can you love someone if you don't know them?
I didn't know my third wife that well.
But, Damián, my third marriage was hell.
That's not what hurts.
I brought us to Paris so I could enjoy the peace of being single.
But then…
But then it's just so sad to sleep alone in such a big bed.
With no plans and…
not having anyone…
to think about…
to obsess over.
The energy of love.
That's what I miss.
Go get some sleep. I'll stay here.
I'll just take a quick nap in your bed.
- Why in my bed? - What's wrong with that?
What's wrong is that humans never stop excreting toxins.
Earwax, skin, odor, sweat.
- Hair! - I didn't know you were squeamish.
You want to set up hot beds in a five-star hotel?
Screw you. I'll sleep for a few hours and be back later.
POETIC ANTHOLOGY VINÍCIUS
And now I'd like you all to hear my friend sing.
Camille.
Pass her the guitar.
That's my dog.
And at that moment,
after many sleepless nights…
I fell asleep.
Let's press it down.
Okay. Pass me the rubber mallet.
- What are you doing? - Nothing.
I saw you.
Don't you like it when people look at your butt?
No. Not really. It grosses me out.
I like to be looked at when I take my clothes off at the beach.
That's not gross.
Know what's gross?
When you take your shirt off and your hairy belly hangs over your belt.
I'll let you in on a little secret.
I cover my body in oil every time I leave the house.
So when I take my shirt off at the beach, I give off a little shine.
Wow. I bet you score when you do that.
What? You don't like fucking either?
Are you really asking me that like it's some type of hobby?
Like fishing or tennis?
I mean, either you like those things or you don't.
I personally love fucking.
Especially the first few times, which is when you, well,
discover all the little things.
What do you mean by "little things"?
You imagine things when you meet a girl. It's inevitable.
That's when you discover the color she paints her toenails,
the type of underwear she wears, whether she shaves…
Guys like you are an endangered species.
Haven't you noticed nobody tells jokes or catcalls anyone anymore?
Or says, "That's one nice, tight ass."
Okay. Not another word from me. I'll shut up.
We're done.
Have you ever thought of me like that?
Like I said, every time you meet a woman, you imagine things.
And what did you imagine about me?
White cotton underwear that's a bit sporty. And unshaven.
That's enough. Drop it.
What? Did I say something wrong?
It doesn't matter if you have a bush. I like that too.
You always talk about that stuff.
Sex things about hair and lingerie.
We'll never get each other. You're just shallow. Helmet on.
- Did you bury it? - Yes.
Good. Roi, Cameron, we're going to mark this area as if we already dug here.
Good morning, everyone! Damián.
It's noon. Where have you been?
I overslept.
I met a woman last night.
In a smoky bar where the people didn't want to go home.
She got on stage with a dog and sang.
I just wanted to stay there forever. I wanted to be that dog.
Do me a favor. You have to come with me.
- Come with you? - Yes. To talk to her.
You know that moment when you become so fascinated with someone
that you have to know everything? Who she is, how she talks…
Her laugh.
You should have seen her laugh.
So full of light!
I went back to the room last night, but you were gone.
Mrs. Polignac wasn't home either, on any of the 12 cameras.
I can't help but wonder… I know it may sound crazy,
but might that fascinating woman happen to be Polignac's wife?
Yes. But what does that have to do with anything?
We've got a huge mess here.
We set up a freaking archeological excavation.
We're going to come at that guy with shoring posts, jackhammers, bulldozers.
And you're asking me to go out for coffee with you
and the wife of the guy we're stealing from?
You're right.
I'm so desperate to meet someone that I put our plan in danger and…
I put you all in danger.
Andrés, there are four billion women in the world.
Don't complicate things
with the wife of the guy we're stealing from.
The priest is coming.
Doctor, there's something here.
The signal is strong.
It looks like a bronze object.
It's a chalice!
It looks Byzantine, right?
We need more time for the excavation.
At least three weeks. We'll need to bring in some machinery too.
I'll go apply for a street permit so you can park the vans.
What exactly are we waiting for?
Have you ever seen a woman on the subway or on a train
and felt like you wanted to know more about her?
Yeah, of course.
Well, that happened to me last night, right in that bar.
I'm waiting for her to come back to strike up a conversation.
Two minutes. Two minutes, no more.
Two minutes? An hour would be better. Have some coffee. Get to know each other.
Precisely two minutes is the key.
When you're fascinated by a woman, you get obsessed.
When you get obsessed, you're screwed. You're vulnerable.
You become just another man in a line of creepy imbeciles
who approach her, try to make her laugh, and beg for a date.
That's not how it's done.
How's it done, then?
By following a military strategy. Patrol, strike, escape.
Approach her, make small talk,
and leave.
Impress her by being the first man in years
who's thinking of something other than making love to her.
I see. That's a smart strategy.
Oh! There she is.
Come in and say hi as if I'm an old friend you haven't seen in years.
Exactly two minutes, Roi. Not one more.
The book! Give me the book.
Thank you, Bastian.
Would you like a croissant and orange juice?
- Yes, please. - You got it.
Thank you.
Good morning.
- What would you like? - Café au lait, please.
- Right away. - Thanks.
Excuse me. Are you Camille?
Yes. Have we met?
No.
- Merci. - I'm in Paris on vacation.
My name is Simón.
Last night, I had the pleasure of hearing you sing.
I was impressed.
I speak Spanish.
Actually, I'm Mexican. Camila.
But the French call me Camille. I've been living in Paris for eight years.
Thanks for your kind words, but I'm not a singer or anything of the sort.
ABOUT PARADISE, CHARLES DUPOND
Do you like Dupond?
Don't tell me you like him too. Merci.
I'm finding him slightly hard going.
He's a bit of a bore.
Right?
I'm trying to finish it. But if I'm lucky, I'll lose it first.
- You should've said hi yesterday. - I didn't want to bother you.
While you were singing, I couldn't stop pondering…
I couldn't stop wondering what's on your playlist.
I came up with 20 or 30 songs you might have added to it.
I don't have Spotify, but I have a few records.
Give it a shot. Tell me one.
I'll give you two.
If I guess right, you have to take me somewhere you consider exceptional.
I'll start with "V."
Vanessa Paradis.
And Vinícius de Moraes.
Good job! You got both right.
I'm going to give you some good news.
You don't have to take me anywhere. I'm meeting a good friend I haven't…
Look. There he is.
It's been so long. How are you?
It's been so long!
- How are you? - Great.
I'll try to come by another day.
I hope I get to hear you sing again.
Sounds good. Enchantée.
- Enchanté. - Enjoy Paris.
Thank you. I love Paris.
Stay cool. Over here. Great. Here.
We're going to sit here now, okay?
Near the door
so we can see if the seed of interest has been sown.
How will we know?
It's easy.
If she looks or smiles at us on her way out,
our job is done.
Dude. Don't look at her.
- Talk to me, Roi. How's your grandma? - My grandma?
Here she comes. Come on. Talk to me.
She's doing well at home now. She hasn't changed much.
Every time we visit, she gets…
Fuck, but…
What happened? She didn't even look at us.
I'm sure you know this, but that woman is Mr. Polignac's wife.
Maybe that's what happened. She's married.
No. Maybe I didn't pay enough attention to her.
I didn't fall madly in love with her like every other man does.
Maybe she's so self-centered she thinks we're a homosexual couple.
She saw you singing and dancing at the door.
You looked like you saw Madonna.
You told me to act like we hadn't seen each other in a while.
And what was with the three kisses?
That's how they do it here.
Are you French? Am I French? Two Spaniards kissing is fucking weird!
- Yeah. - We just sowed plutonium.
We blew this relationship.
Sir, you left your book at the bar.
Do I look like I like Dupond?
Cameron, mark the tunnels. Some people never made it out of here.
REMAINS FROM THE HOLY INNOCENTS' CEMETERY DEPOSITED IN APRIL 1786
That way.
That way?
No.
That way.
It's…
right here.
We'll dig a 45-foot tunnel with a 27-degree gradient
to access the retaining wall in the basement of the auction house.
We need to dig in the direction of the laser at all times.
Hello?
I'm going to be late, honey.
Grab my clothes and bring them downstairs, or we'll be late for the concert.
What concert?
At the Opéra. I told you about it three days ago.
I'm sorry, Camille.
I forgot. I have dinner at the Italian embassy in 30 minutes.
This is important to me. My friends are playing.
Trouble in French paradise, sir.
He forgot they were going to the Opéra. She's mad.
I never ask you for anything.
I go to all your things.
I can't change their protocol now, honey.
You should have reminded me this morning.
So now I have to remind you of the plans you make with me?
Forget it. I'll go to the concert alone.
He expects her to remind him of his plans? Imbecile!
My tuxedo. I need my tuxedo.
Where are you going?
To the opera.
Make sure my shoes are polished. Let's go.
Professor Vázquez?
Yes, Father?
I've brought you some refreshments and something to eat.
You didn't have to do that.
Well… I also have a favor to ask.
Could you lend me the chalice?
The chalice?
What for?
I'm traveling to Spain and was hoping to stop by your university
to show it to the dean.
We don't share news about excavations until the job is further on.
We have our reasons, but it's mainly for security.
But the dean has to know.
It's only fair.
How can he not know we've found a fourth-century chalice
and possibly the oldest church in Paris here?
It's not the right time, Father.
I understand you want to break the news to him,
but it's my church and I'll be the one to break it to him.
Where is the chalice? Oh!
Why can't he take the chalice with him?
It's his church.
It's his chalice.
He's taking it.
Thank you, Professor.
I'm going to pack my suitcase. My flight leaves at 8:30.
Goodbye!
- Damián? - The priest took the chalice.
He's going to take it on a stroll through customs and show it to the dean.
In 12 hours, we'll be found out, and the police will be here.
Our months of hard work, insomnia, and euphoria planning this heist
would amount to nothing thanks to a priest's vanity.
I'd have to be the one to remind him that pride is a capital sin
and the price you pay for forgetting that is hell.
But she was across the street, unaware she was waiting for me.
And that, together, we could write the world's best love story.
The planets had aligned to give us the chance
to go to the opera together.
That was my dilemma.
Choosing between two things that make the world go round,
money or love.
Listen up, Roi.
We need to intercept the chalice.
Do whatever it takes to get it back.
I don't care if you have to hang him in the airport bathroom.
Do not come back without it.
Who cares if love fades or doesn't last?
It's the only reason to live.
Camille!
Subtitle translation by: Molly Yurick