BEING HAPPY
Pascal?
Who's there?
It's me, Christine.
What is it?
I'm leaving. I have class at eight-thirty.
Have a good class.
Aren't you getting up?
I don't have class.
But you must work.
Why?
To finish your master's thesis.
Why?
Don't you want to begin living?
I'm already alive.
I'm just trying to enjoy it.
Do you think I enjoy what I do?
What do you do?
You know very well, my agrégation in philosophy.
Oh, that.
I hope you enjoy it, considering the time you spend.
I'm thinking of the future.
Personally, I think I can live without a master's
on André Breton's materialist transcendentalism.
Live with your choice.
I made no choice.
The professor imposed it.
I don't even know what it means.
After two years, you don't what it means?
No.
And I never will.
So there's no point in waking me.
You're quite a strange lad.
I'm going to warm up my voice.
So early?
We're rehearsing at ten.
The Unnamable schedules rehearsals early, to make us suffer.
The "Unnamable"?
Our conductor.
That's what you call him?
I'm not the only one.
Can we go out tonight?
Yes.
Have a good day, Manuel.
See you tonight, Sarah.
I love you.
I wasn't expecting you tonight.
I'm happy you're here.
Why didn't you tell me you were coming?
I thought you'd be here.
Why?
You have work to do.
I do what I enjoy.
Like what?
I take walks, I read.
Texts related to your master's?
No.
You haven't thoroughly explored your body of work.
I haven't thoroughly explored my body.
I love you, Christine.
Don't be frivolous, Pascal.
What are you reading?
Heidegger.
Is it good?
Don't be vulgar.
I don't think I'm vulgar.
I love you.
Go to bed.
I need to finish my chapter.
That was a nice evening.
- Tired? - A little.
- Are you working tomorrow? - Yes, at ten.
Isn't it hard for the Unnamable to rehearse so early?
No. He's a wholesome man who rises and sets with the sun.
You work early also, and you never complain.
For a computer scientist, it's normal.
You're not a normal computer scientist.
But I am.
I am.
Perhaps we should get to bed.
I'm going to study my music a bit more.
What are you working on at the moment?
Monteverdi.
Is it good?
Nothing is more beautiful, but it's difficult.
No one sings like you.
The Unnamable constantly says the opposite.
He's an idiot.
Worse. He's a profoundly mean person.
But you should go to bed.
Yes, perhaps I should.
Good night.
FRENCH CENTRE FOR SURREALIST RESEARCH
Jacques Vaché was the most sublime surrealist.
Perhaps even, I dare say,
the most sublime writer of our century.
His unique voice was a cataract of silence,
a detonation of silence
that shook the world.
How can I speak of this great silence?
How can I pay homage to it,
other than by being silent?
I dare confront Jacques Vaché's colossal silence
with the only appropriate language.
They exist to make someone happy.
You think so?
Look, Michel.
I just discovered this. The artist Michelangelo wrote poetry.
Yes, everybody knows that.
In France they don't approve of it.
Intellectuals criticise him for being an artist,
feminists for loving a man,
and homos for being chaste.
So he still has the approval of the majority.
Not in France.
Listen. This is just the translation.
"With you in my heart I love myself
"Far more than I love me, and I am more worthy,
"As the block disfigured by a chisel
"Is a far more precious thing than the raw stone.
"The written or printed page more rivets the eye
"Than a crumpled or torn sheet of paper.
"I receive everything with no suffering,
"Since your visage chose me as its target.
"Your features engraved on me, I go forth
"Without fear, like he who is endowed with magic spells or weapons
"Rendering all dangers vain.
"You have armed me against water and fire,
"Your mark on me makes me visible to the blind,
"My saliva is an antidote to all poisons."
Everyday neo-Platonism.
For me it's brand new.
What are you looking for?
I've got an alarm clock in my purse.
I must rise at six-thirty tomorrow morning.
But why?
To study for my practice exam.
Don't blow out the candle.
Why not?
I want to look at you.
I need to sleep.
A candle won't keep you from sleeping.
What are you doing there?
Looking.
At what?
Outside.
What is it, Sarah?
I couldn't sleep.
You've been sad lately.
I have so many questions.
What kind of questions?
Questions about music, about me.
Don't you want to be happy?
What is being happy?
Being together.
Loving each other.
Succeeding in our careers.
Having enough money so we can forget about money.
Loving each other.
Living together in a nice place of our own.
Living together with our children.
Don't you want to have children?
Yes.
REVOLUTIONARY THOUGHT
What is it, Cédric?
Your minister has arrived.
Shall I show him in?
In one minute.
Cédric?
Make us some tea.
The kettle's already on.
You're an angel, my dear.
My dear Juju! How delightful to see you again.
Let's go outside, darling. It's nicer.
Support from sensitive, cultivated people like you, Juju,
is priceless to me.
Little Cédric calls you my minister.
I am but a humble servant of our minister.
Cédric? Is he the young man who showed me in?
Exactly.
Who is he?
My steward.
Your steward?
What a delicious expression.
Here is our young hero.
Your tea.
- Sugar? - Not for me.
You appear to be a gifted young man.
Go get yourself a cup.
I don't want tea.
You will stay with us anyway.
Do you know the theatre director Jean-Astolphe Méréville?
Never heard of him.
He is the baroque genius, everyone agrees.
At the Ministry we want him to try his hand at opera.
We've got a project for him involving Monteverdi's short dramatic works.
The Combat of Tancredi and Clorinda, etcetera.
The project doesn't as yet have a musical director.
If you're interested,
I can see to it you're offered the job.
You know me, Juju, I'm always ready for an adventure.
Very well then. I'll do the necessary.
Our ensemble owes its existence to people like you, Juju.
Intelligent, sensitive and refined.
Typically French.
France owes a great debt to you, Guigui.
To thank her, I want to begin with you, Juju.
France could use a bit of stewarding in her life.
Stewarding?
I can loan you an excellent steward.
Right, Cédric?
Would you like to get together this evening to discuss it?
I'm looking for work in the arts.
We'll see what we can do about that.
I'll pick you up tonight at the Café de Flore at seven-thirty.
All right?
All right.
I must leave you now, Guigui.
I have another meeting at the Ministry.
Thank you, Juju, it's been a great pleasure.
The pleasure was all mine.
And it will soon be even greater.
Cédric, please show Juju out.
Cédric!
Thank you.
I knew two such delicious beings would get along famously.
Indeed, we seem to be cut from the same cloth.
Quite so, although I have more of it.
I'm convinced this new collaboration
will have a major impact on today's culture.
If I weren't afraid of being misunderstood,
I'd venture to say this show will be revolutionary!
A Trojan horse unleashing thought on theatre and music.
For without thought, there can be no true art.
I quite agree, Jean-Astolphe.
We shall be great friends.
I can feel it.
And as gifts deepen friendships,
I should like to introduce you to someone who can help us deepen ours.
Who might that be?
One of my young stewards.
Don't worry Juju, it's not Cédric.
Guigui has impeccable taste in stewards.
I'm interested.
I have many assistants, but no stewards.
I sense our collaboration will be satisfying in more ways than one.
Wait, someone's coming.
There's no room for three.
Good evening.
There isn't enough room.
Of course there is. Do come in.
I'm the first one out.
Monsieur is my downstairs neighbour.
Louis is a young actor I met recently.
I think he's very talented, I want to audition him.
You audition many talented young men at home, Mr. Méréville.
Discovering young talent is one of my profession's perks.
Many of my colleagues lack curiosity.
A flaw you do not share with them.
This is my floor.
Have a nice evening, Mr. Méréville. And a nice audition.
Thank you. Good evening to you.
My name's not Louis.
I'm coming, I'm coming!
Here I am.
I could immediately tell you are an artist.
Allow me to demonstrate how I bring a classical character to life.
You know, I am a great director of actors.
The key to interpretation
is understanding the subtext.
Take Phaedra, for example.
She is tormented by an unresolved incestuous desire for the sun.
What is an incestuous desire?
The desire to fuck someone in your family.
Why the sun?
The sun is Phaedra's grandfather.
- She wants to fuck her grandfather? - Yes.
It becomes clear in the fourth act,
when she discovers that Hippolytus, a tanned solar figure, loves Aricia.
Phaedra's fury is triggered by the memory of her unquenched passion.
For the sun?
Exactly, for the sun,
who had a feminine element
and conceived Pasiphae, Phaedra's mother,
by parthenogenesis.
By what?
Parthenogenesis.
It means making love without fucking.
Like slugs.
Slugs don't fuck?
Only with themselves.
And you? Can you do that?
I'm not a slug. But I have other qualities.
Look what I can do thanks to my analysis of the subtext.
"Their love will last forever.
"Even while I speak...
"Ah! Fatal thought!
"They mock the fury of a mistress gone mad.
"Despite the exile that will part them,
"With a thousand oaths they seal their union.
"No, I cannot suffer a happiness which offends me.
"Oenone, have pity on my jealous rage.
"Aricia must be destroyed!
"My husband's wrath
"Against hateful blood must be revived.
"And the punishment must not be light.
"The sister's crime surpasses the brothers'.
"In my jealous rage I will entreat him...
"What am I doing?
"Have I taken leave of my senses?
"Me, jealous! And imploring Theseus for help!
"My husband lives,
"And still I burn.
"For whom?"
"Where can I hide?
"Let us flee into the infernal night!"
Is that the end?
Yes.
Wasn't it moving?
Very moving.
I can tell by the way your gaze caressed my body
you have a natural eye for the theatre.
- What is your name? - Olivier.
- Olivier what? - Jeanmin.
Jeanmin is good. Olivier is too common.
It's the name of a tree.
A tree is not good for an artist.
Art is the negation of nature.
Oliver is better. In English it doesn't mean anything.
Oliver Jeanmin, you will be a great actor and a great director.
Thanks to you?
Yes, thanks to me.
You will begin as my assistant.
I'm fine with anything.
But sex is still 500 francs.
Bourgeois art is the art of the lie.
A profoundly immoral art.
Baroque art, despite appearances,
is always an expression of the truth.
If we manage to penetrate the Baroques,
we discover they fathered the Enlightenment,
to which we owe our own true birth.
Monteverdi gave birth to Rameau
and is Pierre Boulez' ancestor.
Corneille is Voltaire's father and Sartre's forefather.
If we make the effort to surprise baroque,
we are the ones who will be surprised.
If we take the necessary steps toward the truth of baroque,
our own truth will be revealed.
If we strive to liberate baroque,
we will at last achieve our own liberty.
Thank you, Jean-Astolphe. Your words are fascinating.
How lucky we are to be working with you.
Cédric, give this to Sarah please.
It's the Lamento della Ninfa.
You will sing the role of the nymph.
Thank you.
THE MASK
That was pretty.
You're home early.
Keep working.
I was just finishing.
What were you singing?
A new piece, for the record and the show.
What is it about?
A girl abandoned by her lover sings at dawn.
She may be insane, she may be dead.
And it's baroque?
Yes.
What is baroque, exactly?
A historical period.
That's what I thought.
But what was special about baroque people?
They always said two contradictory things,
both of which were true.
I don't understand.
It's like saying you're two people at once,
one who is alive because the other is dead.
It seems to me nothing is more mutually exclusive than life and death.
What is it?
Nothing.
Your words are beautiful, but they're beyond me.
This is beautiful too, isn't it?
Yes.
But all that is beautiful is beyond us.
It's me.
Can I come and see you?
Where are you?
In the neighbourhood.
I'm with a friend, we're studying.
I could come after.
I have to get up early.
We'll go to bed early.
Come by in an hour, if you want.
Ok.
What is that bestial noise?
You're supposed to be a singer.
I refuse to hire any more French brayers,
not even to make the Ministry happy.
Where I'm from the cows sing better than that!
I don't understand this violence.
It stinks so bad I want to vomit.
You sound like a strangled kangaroo,
and you have no sense whatsoever of baroque style.
I'm here to learn.
Let's start over, Guigui.
There's no hope.
She should start looking for a job as a cashier.
You mustn't take it to heart.
He does it to everyone.
Come.
Go get yourself a cup of coffee.
I'll calm him down.
Later he'll be pleased with you, you'll forget all about it.
Have a cup of coffee downstairs.
Nothing's open in the neighbourhood.
Yes there is, a sinister café.
Take two rights when you leave the building.
All right.
A cup of coffee, please.
Not too bloody bad, my darlings, not too bloody bad.
It's a shame we can't spend Christmas together.
We each have our own families.
Mine always celebrates Christmas in the country.
Soon we'll have a family of our own.
Since I shan't see you tomorrow, here is your gift.
I sent yours to your parents.
Michelangelo's poetry.
It's more or less baroque, right?
More or less.
A learned German said Michelangelo is the father of baroque.
Do you know his poetry?
A little.
Do you like it?
Yes.
What's this?
The album I made with the Unnamable. It was released last week.
That's wonderful.
Why didn't you say anything?
I forgot.
Why were you waiting for me?
I wasn't waiting for you.
I wanted to cross.
Cross?
I was looking for the bridge.
There is no bridge.
I was looking for my girlfriend. She's on the other side.
There is nothing on the other side.
There is another bank.
There is only water.
I hear her voice.
It's my voice you hear.
I hear music.
I am music.
This is where you want to go.
No, I want to cross the bridge.
There is no bridge.
It's nice spending Christmas Eve together, the two of us.
Yes.
I care about you very much.
I'm not unhappy to hear it.
But I worry about you.
Why?
A man needs self-respect.
The best way to achieve it is by respecting others.
That is not enough.
What else is necessary?
A place in society.
Why?
It's the mirror we look in.
If we see nothing, we cannot love ourselves.
Is it a good thing to love oneself?
Yes. Otherwise we self-destruct.
Now that it is well past midnight, I can give you your gift.
Why not at midnight?
It's a secular gift.
I have something for you, too.
I don't know if it's secular.
You go first.
Giordano Bruno, The Heroic Frenzies.
It's philosophy, I believe.
A friend told me about the author's life.
He was a nice fellow.
It's not philosophy, and it's not at all secular.
It's actually quite obscurantist.
But it will be amusing to read after my exams.
Thank you, Pascal.
My turn.
What is this record?
It just came out.
It's by a new French ensemble, Les Delices Triomphantes.
They're the best in the world, according to the Nouvel Obs.
Monteverdi...
Never heard of him.
He's an Italian composer from the same period as Giordano Bruno.
That's great. Thank you.
It'll be a new discovery for me.
Don't you want to dance to ring in the New Year?
No.
- What is it? - Nothing.
You didn't have a good time tonight.
I did.
I know you didn't.
In that case I didn't.
Why won't you talk to me about it?
There's nothing to say.
There's always something to say.
I felt bad.
Why?
Because of the violence.
Where?
In people's eyes, in their voices.
I don't understand.
They tore off my mask.
Why wear a mask?
To exist.
Isn't the truth preferable?
The mask was the truth.
Behind it there is you.
No. Behind it there is nothing.
You hold a phantom in your arms.
You're as real as I am. I'm real, and I love you.
You don't know where I am.
You are here, in my arms.
My body is already gone.
No.
My soul was the mask.
No.
And now my soul is gone, too.
Your soul is in your body which stands before me.
My hands touch you, my eyes see you.
The part of me you can touch and see is someone else.
Come in.
Good afternoon.
You're late.
Be seated.
Show me the outline for your thesis.
What is the meaning of this?
I wanted to imitate Jacques Vaché's silence.
I don't find that funny.
You know that if you fail again this year
you won't get another chance.
Yes.
Doesn't that worry you?
No.
I'm not going to get angry.
Keep your paper.
Make an appointment to come back in two weeks.
With your outline.
With regard to the subject you gave me,
I think Jacques Vaché provides a perfect model.
You are fortunate to have such a fascinating subject.
Breton is a very great writer.
He would have been greater if he hadn't written a line.
Would you dare repeat what you just said?
What I think doesn't merit repeating.
You don't merit the effort it would take to get up and slap you.
I agree with you.
Get out.
You've abandoned yourself to darkness?
The very source of obscurantism.
I'm taking advantage of the natural light.
It does me good.
I thought perhaps something had happened to you.
Nothing ever happens to me.
That perhaps you weren't well.
You can see I'm very well.
You no longer answer your phone.
I don't feel like talking.
Why?
I have nothing to say.
Someone may want to talk to you.
There's nothing I feel like hearing.
There's nothing I feel like doing.
Don't wallow in your depression.
Try to find a job at least.
Why?
To keep your dignity.
You could also try to get back into school.
I already have.
I registered for a new master's degree.
I'm happy to hear it.
I shall analyse, from a transcendent materialist viewpoint,
Jacques Vaché's entire works.
That's why I'm no longer talking or answering the phone.
I'm preparing myself.
What are you doing?
- Going away. - Where?
None of your business.
- You're leaving me? - Yes.
That's not nice.
I'm not trying to be nice. I'm no demagogue.
It's not polite either.
I'm not polite. I'm a philosopher.
You always have been, so why leave me now?
Silence revolts me.
I'm trying to attain the sublime.
In silence philosophy dies and fascism is born.
- Then it is your duty to leave me. - Yes.
Do you want me to turn it on before I go?
A philosopher who turns a lad on just before leaving him is a sadist.
So, my darlings,
I hope your holidays were wonderful.
As you know, Les Delices Triomphantes is a triumph.
You truly deserve this success.
I'm so very happy with you.
Tonight we will work on some new pieces
for our show with Jean-Astolphe.
Sarah,
you will sing the Lamento d'Arianna for us.
I've never worked on it.
You will work on it now, darling.
Here.
You call that singing?
I was sightreading.
When you don't know how to sing,
when you have no sense of style,
it is evident from the very first note.
Don't you know what morbidezza means?
I don't see anything suave in "Let me die".
You sang it like a castrated ram!
Are you a woman, Sarah, or a baby seal?
Even a virginal boy
would sing with more sexuality in his voice.
Shall we start over, Guigui?
Sandrine,
you will sing the Lamento d'Arianna.
But I'm here to sing in the choir.
In our ensemble, merit is the determining factor. Sing.
Magnificent, Sandrine, magnificent. Now that's music.
I'm not ready to sing this piece.
I could never sing it like Sarah.
Sarah could never sing it like you.
For the show, you will sing all the pieces Sarah recorded.
Go ahead, Sandrine. Pretend she's no longer here.
You're right. I'm no longer here.
Pity you're taking it so hard.
I'd have offered you Sandrine's place in the choir.
I'll have no trouble finding soloists like you.
The girl at the bakery says she loves to sing in the shower.
Come on, my darlings, let's get to work.
Let's set aside Arianna for the moment.
Sandrine, I want you to read through the Lamento della ninfa.
Sarah, wait.
Leave your things here.
Go get a drink downstairs.
When you return, he'll have changed his mind.
I don't care.
No one sings this music like you.
She who was meant to sing it did so.
You're the one who sang it. And you're still here.
I'll be waiting for you.
I'll leave the door open.
The downstairs door will be locked. Adieu.
Mademoiselle?
A whiskey, please.
JB or Glenfiddish?
Either one.
- Good day, Monsieur. - Good day, Madame.
What would you like?
I'd like to ask you a favour, Madame.
Yes?
Do you know where I live?
On the ground floor.
I have to go away now.
Unexpectedly.
Yes.
Could you come by in thirty minutes and turn off my oven?
I'll leave the door open.
I'm used to turning off ovens.
But if I have a customer, I may be late.
That is of no importance.
No problem, then.
You are kind.
It's only normal.
Nothing is normal.
Adieu, Madame.
Good bye, Monsieur.
Sarah Dacruon...
Sarah Dacruon.
Would you like another spot of armagnac?
I'm working tomorrow.
Come on, one for the road.
It'll help you sleep.
We're so happy to see you again, Manuel.
Likewise.
It must still be unbearable for you.
Work keeps me occupied.
Are you going to keep the flat?
Yes.
Isn't it hard on you?
It would be harder elsewhere.
It would be difficult for us.
That's why I haven't invited you over.
We're seeking.
So am I.
But what I seek is there.
When one seeks something,
one doesn't stay at home.
Do you know what you're seeking?
Not exactly.
Nor do I.
So I must wait.
Where you wait, there is only the past.
There is also the present.
What about your future?
It will come and find me.
I'm up early tomorrow.
Pascal?
I recognised you.
I've changed from the front, but not from the back.
Are you well?
Very well, thank you.
It shows.
You were right to leave me.
I don't know.
Yes.
You seem much more radiant.
You think so?
I think you've met someone.
Yes.
I'm happy for you.
Is he a student?
Preparing his agrégation in history.
Neat.
He's writing a thesis, too.
On what?
12th century dietary considerations in Normandy.
Fascinating.
He's brilliant.
I'm sure he is.
I hope you love each other.
We don't ask ourselves that question.
It's very important.
How about you?
Me?
Do you love someone?
Yes.
Do I know her?
She's a singer from Les Délices Triomphantes.
Remember?
The record you gave me for Christmas.
I'm glad.
Are you two going on holiday this summer?
Yes.
To Italy.
Mantua and Venice.
And you?
If we both pass our agrégation,
we may go on a study trip to Germany, or Normandy.
Humbert wants to analyse minerals in the soil.
To find out what was in medieval milk?
Exactly.
Do you have time for a drink?
No, I must go now. I'm studying for my orals.
It was nice seeing you again.
You too. It's bizarre.
What's bizarre?
We had to separate to be happy together.
Perhaps people must always separate to be happy together.
- Pascal. - Michel.
Have time for coffee?
I have something important to do. Another time.
I have a spare ticket to a Nô performance tomorrow.
What's that?
A type of old Japanese theatre.
Tomorrow evening?
Why not?
Meet me at eight at the Café des Arts.
All right. See you tomorrow.
In China, a woman is possessed in a dream
by a drum that falls from the sky:
With it she conceives a son, Tenko.
The Sky offers the boy a drum
and he makes a magical sound on it.
The Emperor wants this marvel for himself.
Tenko hides with his instrument.
I feel like I understand Japanese.
But no one can escape the Son of the Sky's sharp eye...
Tenko is arrested, and the Emperor seizes the drum.
For having resisted, the young man is drowned in the Rosui.
At the Palace, no one can play the drum.
So His Majesty sends for Tenko's father,
who gets heavenly sounds out of it.
Moved, the Emperor holds a service on the banks of the Rosui
and offers the drum to the drowned boy.
A spectre arrives on the bridge.
The spectre plays the celestial drum
and dances in the autumn night.
Appeased, Tenko's soul crosses the bridge again.
It's a whole row of linden trees.
Yes.
It's the perfect time of year to enjoy them.
Before there were elms here, but they all died.
We can feel their souls in the lindens.
Your thought is becoming audacious.
I find connexions between things.
That is the goal of thought.
A drum in a dream that turns into a child
surely resembles the smell of linden trees.
It's the same music.
Music has become a reference for you.
My new girlfriend is a singer.
We could've gotten her a ticket tonight.
She's on tour.
When is she back?
Tomorrow, Saturday.
I'll see her in the afternoon.
I hope to meet her one of these days.
Of course.
You seem to be doing much better.
Yes, I'm doing very well.
Yes?
I'm looking for someone.
Who?
I came on Saturday because...
Who are you looking for?
Sarah Dacruon.
Who are you?
She doesn't know me.
She's not here.
When can I see her?
I must speak to her.
You can't speak to her.
Why not?
She's dead.
Who are you?
A friend.
You told me she didn't know you.
Yes.
But I'm a friend.
Come in.
Apparently from the Pont des Arts.
That's where they found her belongings.
Facing downstream.
Near the Right Bank.
Next to the second street light.
There were no witnesses.
Did she leave you a note?
No, nothing.
Nothing.
I'm told it was after a rehearsal that turned sour.
With the Unnamable.
Her conductor.
The chap from the record?
Yes.
She called him the Unnamable.
But you don't kill yourself over a rehearsal.
You can kill yourself over almost nothing.
And it's always a very important thing.
When she sang, we heard the sadness inside her.
We hear the life inside her.
Heard.
Life is always in the present.
Yes.
Would you like to see her photograph?
No, I'd rather not.
Come, I'll show you something else.
These are her musical scores.
The ones they found on the bridge.
Music on its own is silent.
It needs to be channelled through a human life.
When life ends,
silence takes over again.
No.
The music remains.
Where is Sarah's music?
In us.
Yes.
Her music is in us.
I must go.
It was good to talk to you.
The light is on the right.
Good bye.
The first day of summer
The last year before the inauguration of the Fête de la Musique
You're too kind. Don't go to any trouble.
I'll seat myself.
Good afternoon.
Do you like Frescobaldi?
Is that what you were playing?
Yes.
I don't know it.
And us?
Do we know each other?
No.
I was curious to see you.
I'm blushing.
I'm a friend of Sarah's.
Poor Sarah. What a loss for her friends.
Have you any friends?
Naturally.
That's good.
For a start, all those who love music.
And yet, I don't think you know much about music.
Do you know who I am?
I have one of your records.
Everyone has my records.
The one with Sarah.
So?
You don't play the way she sings.
What do you know about it?
Your music has no meaning.
Music never has any meaning, Ducky.
I believe it does.
You're not used to listening to it.
Yes I am.
I listen to roque music.
What I was playing, Bunny, was ba-roque music.
I go to the Bar Rock, they've got a great percussionist.
I don't bang on any drums, Bambi.
If you banged on a drum, no sound would come out.
Why is that?
Because you cannot be named.
You're delirious.
I'm a musician, and music is always crystal clear.
Before you can be a musician, you must be a man. Or a woman.
Are you implying I'm both at once?
Maybe you are neither.
You want to see my cock?
I'm sure it's perfectly adequate.
If it wasn't, you'd replace it with a plastic one.
But you will always be missing something.
What, my love?
I thought they called you the Unnamable because you're mean.
But it's because you have no name.
Did you stop because of me?
Perhaps I began because of you.
What language were you singing in?
Kurdish.
Where does it come from?
Nowhere.
- But you speak it. - Yes.
And tonight I sing it.
Why?
Perhaps so that someone will hear it.
You are the one who heard it.
It's a coincidence.
You think so?
Why did you come here?
I'm seeking.
What?
I don't know.
Yes you do.
I'm seeking someone.
Who?
A woman who sings.
Her name is Sarah.
I'm not the one you're seeking.
But I was singing in my language, so someone might hear it,
and you're the one who heard it.
That must have a meaning.
I'm going to go now.
Yes, go on.
Tonight is the shortest night.
Yes.
I didn't think you'd come.
And yet you were waiting for me.
I wasn't waiting for you.
I was seeking you.
Seeking is waiting.
I sought you everywhere.
You found me here.
Why here?
You're the one who knows.
Why are we separated?
Here we are together.
Sarah.
Through you, I am Sarah.
You heard the laughter in my voice.
I love you, Sarah.
I love you too, Pascal.
Is there no place for love?
Yes, here.
Is there no place for love in the world?
We're in it now.
We loved each other in another time.
No, it was now.
We loved each other in another place.
No, it was here.
Then my memory
is nothing real.
Yes it is. It's what we heard.
Music.
Yes.
Nothing real.
Yes it is.
What is music?
You taught me what it is.
It is born in silence.
It dies in silence.
Between those two silences, we met. We loved each other.
That is our reality.
Reality says I'm alive and you're dead,
I'm here and you're elsewhere.
Reality says there's a river between us.
No, not reality.
Human intelligence says all that.
Isn't intelligence the highest reality?
You know it isn't. Human intelligence is deaf.
I want to touch you.
I want to hold you close.
Nothing separates us.
I want to kiss you.
Here you touched me, you held me close.
You kissed me.
I want to know reality.
It is here.
I want to know your reality.
Nothing separates us anymore.
I want to be one body with you.
We are one body in the light.
English version: Sionann O'Neill
Subtitling TVS - TITRA FILM Paris