Guys, are we going to the Lido tonight?
Screw the Lido.
It's for losers and faggots,
little faggots like you guys!
Let's go to the Paradis Latin, it's nicer. Trust me, I know Paris.
Do you want to go out tonight?
Of course I fucking do.
You don't come to Paris to stay in the hotel
and knit sweaters.
I'm tired, Enzo. We go out every night.
Am I making you tired?
You drink too much and you get into fights.
So? Where's the problem in that?
-Do whatever you want. -Whatever I want?
Do I need your permission?
Are you my wife or my mother?
Sometimes, I'm not sure.
You're not my mother.
You're not half the woman she was.
She was a saint who didn't complain all the time.
You knew her, Luigi. Tell her.
She was an angel.
May she rest in peace.
I'm tired.
I just want to go to bed.
Then go to bed, bitch.
Drop me at the club and take her to the hotel.
Here we are, guys. Let's go.
Here.
Thank you.
Want some music?
Do you like jazz?
I don't know it very well.
It's very mellow music. I listen to it when I'm feeling down.
Lovely, isn't it?
It depends on how much you want.
We want a lot, but as quickly as possible.
What do you mean by "a lot"?
Two grams, 10 grams, 100, 200?
-How much money do you have? -We have enough.
-Which means? -Which means a lot.
Mister Love, hello.
Hello? Hello?
Hello?
"In the book My Father's Glory,
"we learn that..."
Shut up! Who is he?
It won't end well. We need to do something, ma'am.
-What is it for? -Personal use.
I don't know what you do with her dough,
but I'm gonna fucking waste you.
-Answer A. -Well, Gaston?
Is that your final answer?
You didn't know the answer?
Sorry, I was miles away.
It's okay.
-It's been a tough day. -Yes, it has.
By all means.
Get some rest.
Do you know what we're going to do?
No. What?
What do we do when we are down in the dumps?
We order pizza.
A nice pizza. What kind?
Double cheese.
And we watch The Young Girls of Rochefort.
-Hello. -Hello.
Just like caviar.
I love it.
It costs the same as caviar, 4,000.
Here you are, young man.
How do I know it's genuine?
-Are you okay? -Yes.
-Good night. -Don't you want to stay?
No. Bye.
Fine... Good night.
Your envelope is on the kitchen table.
No, this time, it's on me.
I had a great night.
Good night.
-Laura! -How are you?
-Welcome to Paris, darling. -It's funny seeing you here.
-You're finally here. -Yes, I am.
-It's been a while. -Come on. Let's go get dinner.
During the lockdown, I thought I was going to kill myself.
For single women like us, it was a nightmare.
Nothing changed in the countryside.
I drank the whole cellar.
It worked wonders. You look fantastic!
Another one? Excuse me?
I have something to tell you.
Don't ever tell anyone.
-Like who? -It's a secret.
Come on, spit it out.
This is it.
-What is it? -Show me.
-Look. -Guess what it is.
-"Mister Love." -What is it? Show me.
I get it.
Yes.
Very good.
Very nice.
Wait.
-Stop. -No! Shit! It was great.
You're completely high.
So what?
Who's gonna blame me?
Am I going to lose my job?
Is my husband going to leave me? Will I scare my kids?
-Am I setting a bad example? -Where did you hide it?
-I don't know. -Where is it?
Where is it?
In the drawer.
We didn't buy it for you.
I'm taking risks to get us out of this mess.
-It's my money! -Your money, but my life.
I don't really feel like dying.
Why do you all have a death wish?
-One more line? -No.
I love how it makes me feel inside.
-One more. -No!
Look in the mirror. It's not pretty.
-You won't sleep until next week. -I can sleep in the great beyond.
Do you have sleeping pills?
-I think so. -Take one tonight.
-Before you go to bed. -Why would I go to bed?
Because we have a plan tomorrow.
I need you.
You need me?
That was fun, but now you need to sleep.
Best to go to bed the same day you got up.
Okay, good night.
Lucien?
Yes?
Aren't you forgetting something?
-Again. -No.
That's enough.
-I want more. -You're high!
Why do you have his keys?
Because it's my place.
I never set foot in the place.
I'd had enough of him pestering me, so I bought him that hovel.
You have money, that's not nice.
It's actually very nice.
It's 17 rue Paul Bourget. The building, the floor, everything.
That dumbass thinks he's a tough guy, but he was born in a rich area.
Spoiled rotten until he was 26. He's completely idle, squanders money.
Now he's happy.
Living in a place that might explain his malaise.
Maybe he's sick.
I'm sick, too.
Old age is like cancer.
Sofiane, guess how much he got?
Nothing, as usual. His dad came home.
-How did it go? -Very well.
In this nice weather, it'd be good for you to go to a fancy suburb.
I'm not against the idea.
So... Her name is Anne-Marie de Montenay
and she's waiting for you in a mansion in posh Rueil-Malmaison.
-It reeks of Catholicism even from here. -How old is she?
-Young, 65. -How much?
One thousand, and a nice advance.
I'm in.
When you get there, park your car by the front steps.
Go inside. You'll see a piano.
On the piano, there's a vase.
And in the vase, there's a scarf.
-She wants you to blindfold yourself. -I can't see her?
Apparently not. Hypocrisy, religion, that kind of thing.
No peeking. If you do, she won't pay.
And then?
Take a few steps
and then follow her instructions.
-Hello. -Nice to meet you.
Give me your hand. Follow me.
There's a couch behind you.
You can sit down.
Take off your jacket and your shirt, please.
Take down your pants.
Do you like your job?
It depends.
If I use my normal voice, do you recognize me?
Come on, have a look.
If you could see yourself...
I think it's time we talked.
Yes.
This is Johanna.
It is Johanna, right?
It's whatever you want.
Who is she?
A part of me that I've always kept from you.
He and I exchanged a few words.
What did you talk about?
Things we'd never said.
Come on.
In the end, life isn't too bad.
If I hadn't found out who he really was,
I would have never realized what I truly desire.
Did you tell him about me?
In a way, yes.
Come.
Lie down.
Come on.
Hello, you.
How did he react?
He didn't say anything.
He didn't even flinch?
Not really.
How are you feeling?
It felt really nice.
I'm proud of you.
This is turning over a new leaf.
Come with me.
-What is that? -All your stuff.
I don't want to see you again.
Are you okay?
Are you crying?
I just said goodbye to half of my life.
I'm starving, give me the Mickey D's.
Coming. Hold on. It's hot.
Here. I got fries.
-Thanks. -Fries?
-Guys, did you see that? -What is it?
-I'll try it. -Wait, it's not mine.
I don't give a shit.
Seriously?
Galaxy Estates,
17 rue Paul Bourget, second floor,
apartment 12.
Can I get your description, please?
So?
It's for real!
-Fucking awesome. -There.
It's so good.
So? Is it the real deal?
Dad?
Hello.
We don't have an appointment, but...
Come in.
Do you want me to...
-No, it's okay. -Are you sure?
I'll heat up the leftover soup.
Sorry for being late, I don't know this area.
My God, you're so beautiful.
Perfectly appropriate for what I'm about to ask you.
I'm happy to see you again.
Me, too.
Do you like it?
I love it.
-Someone at the door. I'll go. -Go.
-Shit! -Police!
-What are you doing? -Sit down.
What's this?
-Guys! -Who does it belong to?
Who? It's not mine!
I swear to God! Don't touch me!
What is it? It's not mine!
It's not mine, okay?
Get your flashlight out of my face!
This is Adèle Mouginot's voice mail.
Please leave a message after the beep.
And like the poet said,
"Brevity is the sister of talent."
Adèle, it's Alphonse.
I have good news.
I think your troubles are over for a while.
Call me.
In this light, you look a lot like your mother.
Did you know her?
We'd occasionally meet in the hall.
You lived here when she was around?
We moved in two months before she left.
Did you ever speak to her?
Small talk.
My husband knew her better.
He was an amateur photographer, he asked her to pose for him.
That made me incredibly jealous.
Your parents loved each other very much.
The day before, she seemed very happy.
Have a nice day.
You, too. Where are you going?
It's none of my business.
-I'll see you around. -Bye.
Alphonse.
I like you a lot.
Me, too.
That's right, old man.
Up yours!
-It's not mine, bro! -Stop calling me "bro."
-It's not mine. -Then what is it?
Santa left 150 grams of coke in your stocking?
I don't know.
Stop messing with us.
We busted you twice for dealing.
I was dealing weed.
I know. You wanted to be a smartass, a big shot.
You're so stupid that someone ratted you out.
-Who? -It doesn't matter.
You can't even keep your gang together.
I don't deal coke, bro!
-Stop. -Is it for personal use?
-A hundred and fifty grams? -You are sick.
We're wasting our time.
This is pretty serious, Louis.
Tell us who you got it from.
I don't fucking know.
Sure, you don't know.
I don't fucking know!
-I don't want to go to jail. -Calm down.
Don't come any closer! Don't touch me!
Please! Don't do this to me!
-What? -Sorry.
-What's wrong? -Sorry.
Yes?
Yes.
What's going on?
Okay. I'm on my way.
I have to go.
-Not now! I was really into it! -I'll be back later.
Untie me!
Her cancer got worse.
She had cancer.
You didn't know?
I did, but she's a very private person.
She rarely talks about it.
She's refusing treatment. It's a miracle she survived this long.
Sit down.
Ladies,
during Mrs. Villemaire's maternity leave,
Mr. Moreira will be your literature teacher.
I'll leave you to it.
Thank you, sir.
-Ladies, good morning. -Good morning.
So...
Let's start with a game.
You're probably not used to playing in class.
Who can say something about what I just wrote?
-Miss... -Clément.
Is that your first name?
-My last name. -Quiet.
-Adèle Clément. -Go ahead.
They are all works by Flaubert, except for Hernani.
Which is a play by...
Victor Hugo.
Well done.
You had a delicious smile,
the gait of a man, but the eyes of a boy.
I had never felt that before.
You seem lost.
Yes, I'm looking for Rue Poincaré.
-It's on the other side. -I don't know the town yet.
It's a small place. You'll soon complain you've seen everything.
Follow me.
-Wait for me. -Faster, Lucien.
Don't call me Lucien. I'm your teacher.
Okay, Lucien!
Make yourself at home.
Don't mind if I do.
I used to dream that we would leave that town together,
that tiny boring town devastated by the war.
Come on, get up.
-Stop pretending you're old. -You shouldn't be here.
I'm your teacher.
You're my teacher when we're at school.
You're a very boring man who can't dance.
I have papers to grade.
And I can dance. Very well, in fact.
Dance with me or I'll rip my blouse and scream.
-You would do that? -I'm dying to do it.
-One dance and you leave. -Promise.
It was you. That's how it was.
I was in love.
For the first time.
Probably the last.
When we're like this,
do you still love your wife?
Of course.
I will always love my wife.
But she's far away.
She's here in my mind.
Adèle, stop!
Leave me alone.
I've never stopped blaming myself.
I was young, full of pride.
I'm sorry, Lucien.
I forgive you.
Eventually, I admitted that it wasn't true.
I wrote you a hundred times.
But it was too late, you never replied.
Get some rest now.
This is for you.
You can open it later.
Read the poem to me.
Which one?
The one you read in class.
Don't you know it by heart?
I don't.
-Sorry. -Too bad.
Read it anyway.
"You who do not know how beautiful childhood is,
Child! Do not envy the pain of age,
When the heart is alternately slave and rebel,
When laughter is often sadder than your tears."
"Your carefree age is so sweet that it's forgotten!
It passes, like a breath through a vast field of air,
Like a joyful voice fading away,
Like an halcyon over the seas.
Oh, don't be in a hurry to mature your thoughts!
Enjoy the morning, enjoy the spring.
Your hours are like flowers intertwined with each other,
Do not pluck them faster than time."
She's gone.
Thank you.
Hello.
I was just leaving.
-Have a nice day. -You, too.
-What's going on? -I'm back to work.
-Is that a problem? -No.
Are you so upset by that?
That's not it.
Do you have any whiskey?
Now is not the time. You have a client in 45 minutes.
I'm not going.
Not today.
What's wrong with you?
My wife just left me.
She's a lesbian.
I just stashed
150 grams of cocaine in a nutjob's apartment.
Someone I loved just died before my eyes.
Who died?
Adèle.
Adèle?
-Our Adèle? -Yes.
Shit.
She was our best client.
-Kidding. -I know.
One hell of a woman.
And good in bed.
These things happen.
In this business, you have to be tough.
I lost four last year.
Four?
Four.
I can't. I can't do this.
Of course you can.
That's when you matter the most.
If you need time to pull yourself together,
I can book you a few young ones.
What's with the briefcase?
It's nothing.
Sorry.
Hello?
Can you hear me? It's Louis. I have good news. Are you ready?
The old lady's dead.
-Who? -My grandmother is dead.
-And? -You have to go to her place.
-I know the code. -What code?
You're driving me mad. For the safe, moron.
You have the code?
Come on. Okay, tell me everything.
Hello.
I can't make it tonight, I have a...
Great timing, we were just talking about you.
-Come in. -Me?
Kids, just as planned, this is Alphonse.
Sit down.
-Hello. -Sit down.
Seriously?
-What's with the long faces? -What did you expect?
It's nothing personal. Put yourself in our shoes.
This is really weird for us.
-I don't understand. -We don't either.
I know it's hard to understand that I've started a new life at my age.
Excuse me?
Let me finish.
In your minds, I'll always be your father's wife.
He's been gone for five years.
Five years I've lived alone.
You only visit every few months, when I insist.
There's always an excuse to postpone or cancel lunches.
Five years
contemplating the worst.
But it so happens that,
five years later, it seems like fate
is on my side again.
I met you when I was at my worst.
He taught me how to love again.
We have a problem here...
Don't say a thing. You don't deserve this.
No, exactly.
The kids will accept you.
This is all very nice, but it's a big misunderstanding.
Your mother is a wonderful woman.
Your father's death was very hard on her.
-Our dad? -Yes, and...
What are you saying?
Your dad's death was hard for her.
Wait, Dad is not dead.
Mom, did you tell this guy that Dad was dead?
He's as good as dead.
Just because he cheated on you with the neighbor from Beaulieu...
Don't mention that whore!
He didn't care. She was a nympho.
Why did he fuck her?
I mean, these things happen.
-Yes. -Well, he is dead to me.
Damn your pride.
You're ruining your life and Dad's, too.
-By the way, where is Gaston? -It's none of your business.
It is. He knew my mother.
Who's your mother?
I don't know. But I'd like to find out.
-Are you there? -Yeah.
We have a problem.
What is it?
Shut up. I'm sleeping!
What?
-It's open. -And?
It's empty, there's nothing in it. Fuck.
Fuck! Damn it! Son of a bitch!
What the fuck do I do now? I don't have any money.
-What the... -Shut up. I'm sleeping.
Stop! You're hurting me!
And? Is that a problem?
Let me go.
Wanna say something?
Sleep tight.
Dear sir, if you're reading this letter,
it's because I'm already on my way out.
Ultimately, the day must face the night.
As a thank you for providing me
with my final bursts of pleasure,
here are some facts
for someone who loves clocks so much.
Look at the minute hand on my three clocks.
One to the east,
one to the south,
and the third to the west in the apartment.
These are my favorite times.
Dawn in winter,
dusk in summer,
and the dead of night.
Put it to good use.
Adèle.
You dirty dog.